Chanter shook his head with a smile. “Lowman emotions. He’s quite capable of figuring that out for himself, once he takes a look around, and you could explain it to him as easily as I, but I’ll tell him if you wish.”
Talsy held her breath, not knowing what to expect from this first meeting of two Mujar that she had ever witnessed. Chanter turned to the youngster, who bowed his head.
“Father.”
“Be assured, you’re safe here. This is reality. You have been saved and brought to a good place, where I have kept the land in order.” Chanter spoke in a brisk, offhand manner.
The youth relaxed visibly. “Then I owe a great gratitude to the ones who did this thing.”
“To her.” Chanter indicated Talsy, who flushed.
The youngster bowed his head in her direction, and made a slow graceful gesture with one hand. “Gratitude.”
Talsy shot Chanter a nervous glance, and he raised a brow, smiling encouragement. The young Mujar waited for the expected reply, and she completed the formal ritual with the traditional answer.
“Wish.”
“Wish.”
“Questions.”
The youth smiled, a flash of white teeth that lighted his countenance. “A small wish for such a great favour. Ask.”
“What’s your name?”
Chanter scowled at her, but she ignored him. She knew that Mujar considered asking for a name rude, but she wanted to know. Chanter’s brows rose when the youngster answered, “Law.”
“That’s not your true name,” Chanter said. “You’ve granted a wish, you must answer the questions.”
“It’s the only name I have,” Law replied, shrugging.
“It’s not a Mujar name.”
Talsy interrupted the brewing argument. “Law, how old are you?”
“By the turning of the world, seven Trueman years.”
“Why don’t you open your eyes?”
Law hesitated. “I cannot.”
“Are you truly blind?”
“By the eyes, yes.”
Talsy glanced enquiringly at Chanter, confused by this odd reply, which hinted at other means of sight.
He explained, “He can see the visible Powers, so he’s not completely blind. Of course, if he opened his eyes, he could see a lot more. No Mujar is born imperfect, nor can we be blinded.”
“Oh.” Her gaze darted between the two, who stood several feet apart and showed no inclination to close the gap. Her curiosity about Law’s blindness was overtaken by a far greater one, and her eyes settled on Chanter. “You promised to show me why Mujar don’t touch.”
He looked baffled by her sudden change of topic; perhaps curious himself about Law’s refusal to open his eyes, but nodded and turned to the youth. “Law, Talsy wishes to see a demonstration of tallana.”
Law tilted his head and smiled. “Very well.”
Chanter stepped forward. Instantly a wall of brilliant blue light sprang up between the two Mujar, a scintillating barrier that edged a radiant nimbus around each of them. The rainbow corona clothed them from head to foot, and blue sparkles fenced the area where the two auras touched. Talsy reached for the faint nimbus of pearly light that surrounded Chanter, her hand passing through it without sensation. Chanter stepped back, and the halos vanished.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Tallana. All Mujar are surrounded by it, but Lowmen can’t see it unless the proximity of another Mujar activates it.”
“But you can see it?”
“Yes.”
“But what is it? Does it burn you? Can’t you ever touch each other?”
Law smiled again. “She has many questions, Father.”
“All her questions will be answered,” Chanter said. “She is the First Chosen, blessed of the gods.”
Law bowed to Talsy, his grin vanishing. “Forgive me, chosen one, I did not see the mark.”
“Open your eyes,” Chanter suggested.
“I wish I could.”
“Chanter!” Talsy hopped with impatience. “Tell me about tallana!”
He scowled at Law, apparently annoyed with the youth. “It surrounds every living thing, but to a much lesser extent. I don’t know what Lowmen call it, if anything, for they never see it, except when two Mujar come too close to each other, but this only happens by accident. It burns if we get very close, almost touching, but we can touch.”
“How? Show me.”
Chanter turned to Law and made a simple gesture. The young Mujar mirrored the cryptic signal, and Chanter closed the gap between them, lifted his hands and held them out, crossed at the wrists. Law mirrored his movements, and the two clasped hands, a faint flash of blue fire igniting as their palms touched briefly.
Chanter stepped back. “Mujar can soften their tallana at will, allowing another to touch them, but mostly we like to keep our distance.”
“Do you soften your tallana every time Truemen come close to you?”
“No, Truemen don’t feel it at all, otherwise we would use it to defend ourselves. Only another Mujar can see and feel tallana.”
Talsy gazed at the two, so alike, yet so different. Law was slightly smaller than Chanter, his skin a fraction paler, his features more feminine. Remembering the reason for asking about tallana, Talsy asked, “So why can’t you soften your tallana around Travain?”
“I can, but he doesn’t seem able to. He certainly never has. When he was a child he could not control it. Even a pure Mujar doesn’t learn to control his tallana until he has his mark. When I touched Travain after he got his mark, his tallana burnt me, causing the red marks you saw on my arms. It’s unpleasant to be burnt like that.”
“You should have told him,” she said.
“He should know.”
“I don’t think he does, otherwise he wouldn’t blame you for staying away from him. Unlike a true Mujar, he has to learn about these things. You can’t just expect him to know them.”
“Perhaps not,” Chanter agreed, inclining his head. “But just as you don’t know everything about Mujar, I was not aware that he needed guidance.”
“Nor would you have given it to him without a Wish,” she pointed out.
“His Mujar heritage does entitle him to some small gifts from his elders, had he asked.”
“That’s not what you said before. You said he had no Wish.”
“That’s true; he didn’t have a Wish to grant him large favours, which you claimed he needed.” Chanter made an irritated gesture, glancing at Law, who stood blandly listening, his face expressionless. “It’s difficult to decide what he’s entitled to, for a Trueman must earn a Wish, yet a Mujar has only to ask, though it’s seldom they have questions. What is he, Mujar or Trueman?”
“Both.” Talsy frowned, seeing Chanter’s dilemma. “I don’t know. Perhaps he’s Trueman with Mujar powers.”
“Yet he has tallana, which is Mujar, and he can kill, which is forbidden to us. Face it, he’s neither, and therefore the way I should treat him is a mystery to all of us.”
Law touched Chanter’s arm and spoke in a language that resembled deep-toned bird calls and melodic lilting poetry. Talsy gaped at the youngster, and Chanter snapped, “Speak Trueman.”
“You have your own language!” she exclaimed.
“Of course we do.” Chanter looked distinctly put out, scowling at Law. “Do you think we’re born speaking Lowman?”
“What did he say?”
“He asked who Travain is. He was rude to speak so in front of you.”
“Oh.” She gazed at Law with renewed fascination, stunned by the depth of her ignorance. “I’d like to learn to speak Mujar.”
“You can’t. Your vocal abilities will not allow it.” Chanter continued to scowl at Law, who bowed his head under his elder’s disapproval. “This one is too young to be with people, he has not yet remembered the ways of our race.”
Law made a graceful gesture. “Guidance, Father.”
Chanter nodded. “You need it.”
“Why does he keep calling you ‘Father’, is he your son?” Talsy asked.
“No, it’s a term of respect. I’m more than twenty years older than him, so he calls me Father. If I was more than forty years older, he would call me Great Father, and more than sixty years, he would call me Wise Father. A Mujar eighty years his senior would be Venerable Father. All elders are accorded this, since we have no way of knowing our own offspring.”
Silence fell as Talsy ran out of questions, her mind whirling as she tried to assimilate this glut of new information, and Law shuffled his feet in the hush. Chanter folded his arms and waited, watching the expressions chase each other over her face. She was sure he knew the reason for her silence, while Law, unable to see her fascination, clearly found the quiet confusing. Realising that the youngster must be hungry, she shook herself from her musings and offered him comforts. The youth accepted, and she led him towards the castle, taking Chanter’s hand to ensure he could not slip away. Law walked slowly, his head bent, and she was forced to wait for him, her initial eager march becoming a leisurely stroll.
When they arrived, Sheera was only too delighted to dish up a bowl of hot stew for Law, thrusting one under Chanter’s nose as well. Law consumed two plates of food at high speed, then slowed on the third, while Chanter made do with one. While they ate, Kieran entered and stopped in surprise. Law raised his head and turned it in the Prince’s direction, then returned to his food. Talsy drew Kieran aside and explained the events at the lake, and Chanter disappeared while she was distracted, to her annoyance.
Law stayed in the castle for a week, wandered its halls and ran his hands over walls and furniture, curtains and people. Many of the chosen who came to the castle were startled and uncomfortable when they encountered the young Mujar and had to submit to his fingers’ scrutiny, although none complained. Talsy was not immune to his curiosity, and underwent the feather-light touch of his mapping, as did Kieran. Law discovered the Starsword hanging on the wall in Kieran’s room and took it down to finger with delighted murmurs, much to the Prince’s surprise. The youngster reverently returned the sword to its place when he was finished, and accorded Kieran a bow. When a cook burnt herself with hot oil in the kitchen, Law granted Talsy’s Wish and healed it, but she had the feeling that he kept tally of how many questions she had asked and how many favours he had granted, and she wondered how large her credit was.
Once he finished his exploration of the castle, he spent his days sunbathing in the garden, apparently content, as all Mujar were, to simply do nothing at all. When Talsy questioned him further about his blindness, his constant assertion that he could not open his eyes proved a dead end street that she was unable to steer around. Life in the valley returned to its peaceful state, the flurry of excitement at Law’s arrival giving way to normality again. No one, least of all Talsy, had any inkling of the tremendous upheavals soon to come.
Events unfolded at an alarming rate on the day Travain came to visit. Law perched in a young peach tree, humming a tuneless dirge, while Talsy sewed a new blouse on the stone bench beneath it. Law’s silence warned Talsy that something was amiss, and the beat of heavy wings brought a daltar eagle sailing into the garden. He stopped his flight with a backstroke and dropped onto the grass.
A rush of wind transformed Travain, and he approached his mother. Talsy greeted him, and he flopped down on the grass beside her bench, plucked a blade and chewed it. As soon as she was able, she broached the subject of tallana, explaining what Chanter had told her of the mysterious force that surrounded Mujar. While she talked, she became aware of the pregnant silence emanating from the peach tree, where Law had not resumed his irritating song. Travain listened to her explanation, frowning.
“So how can I control something I don’t even know I have?” he asked.
“Perhaps Chanter can teach you.”
“But I can’t see it like he can, and he can’t change that.”
“No, perhaps not,” she admitted, “but there must be a way to learn how to control it anyway. After all, you can’t see Ashmar. It’s an invisible Power, but you can control it.”
“Yes, but I can sense Ashmar; I don’t sense this tallana.”
“Still...” Talsy broke off at a soft thud beside her, looking around. Law stood on the other side of the bench, beneath the peach tree he had just descended. His fine black brows almost met over his closed eyes, and he faced Travain with a distinctly hostile air.
Travain glared at the young Mujar. “This must be the one you rescued.”
“Yes, this is Law.”
“Why doesn’t he open his eyes?”
She shrugged. “No one knows. Law, this is my son, Travain.”
Law stepped closer and pointed at Travain. “You are wrong.”
“Wrong?” Talsy asked, puzzled. “Wrong about what?”
“Wrong,” Law repeated. “Against the laws. A creature of the chaos; a man who is not Lowman; a Mujar who is not Mujar.”
Talsy slumped. “Oh, that kind of wrong.”
Travain jumped up. “I don’t like being called names!”
“Don’t be angry, Travain, he’s young and inexperienced, and he didn’t call you a bad name.” Talsy watched her son with deep concern. Travain looked furious, and she feared a violent retaliation.
“You are a forbidden breed,” Law continued, apparently oblivious to the anger in Travain’s voice and the hostility that bristled the air. “You are the worst of the abominations, the creatures that should not be.”
“Law!” Talsy frowned. “Stop it!”
The golden fire filled Law’s mind, whipped into a wild tempest by the proximity of this, the most forbidden crossbreed of all, a creature of the corruption whose very existence insulted the world. The whizzing words hammered at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, raising his hands to cover them. One line of burning writing settled in his mind, then whizzed away, then settled again, allowing him an instant to read it.
“Abomination!” Law said, and Travain leapt at him, his fists raised.
Talsy cried, “Travain! Drummer, no!”
Travain halted with a snarl, his eyes glittering with rage and humiliation. Law’s pained expression, and the way he covered his eyes, pressing against them as if to hold something inside his head, alarmed Talsy. His mouth worked, and a string of harsh, guttural words fell from his lips like stones, making her skin prickle and Travain howl in pain. She grabbed her son, who rubbed his skin as if a million biting ants attacked him, his face twisted with confusion and anguish.
“Law, stop!” Talsy yelled. “You do harm!”
The young Mujar stepped back and turned away. “No harm,” he muttered in a strained voice.
“What the hell is going on here?” Talsy cried, holding her moaning, frantic son as he scrubbed his arms. “Chanter! Kieran!”
Law walked away and sat under a tree, his back to them.
Travain had calmed a little, his arms and neck red from rubbing, by the time Chanter arrived on a whisper of black wings and transformed in a rush of wind. He glanced at Law, who sat with his head bowed, then took in Travain’s state with a scowl.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Law. He’s done something to Travain, but I don’t know what. He spoke a weird language.”
“Mujar?”
“No, it was ugly.”
Chanter eyed the young Mujar. “God words?”
“Could be. Yes, I think so.”
Travain glared at Law, still rubbing his reddened skin. “What’s his problem?”
Chanter shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well find out!” he said, and his father’s eyes frosted.
Talsy warned, “Travain, remember what I told you.”
The crossbreed gritted his teeth and swallowed his rage with an effort, his breathing slowing as he brought himself under control. He drew himself up, bowed his head towards his father and made a clumsy Mujar gesture.
“Guidance, Father.”
Chanter’s brows rose, but he nodded. “Granted. Come and sit, we will talk.” He went over to join Law, who sat cross-legged under the peach tree.
Travain hesitated, wary of Law, but Chanter seated himself diagonally a few feet from the young Mujar and pointed to a spot an equal distance from both, completing the triangle. Travain allowed Talsy to urge him to his appointed place, and she settled beside him on the grass. Law cringed at Travain’s proximity, clasping his eyes.
“Law,” Chanter said, “why did you use god words against Travain?”
“Abomination,” the young Mujar muttered. “He is wrong.”
“We know this.”
“He belongs in the chaos, not here.”
Chanter shook his head. “This is his home. He was born here; he is the son of the First Chosen.”
“And yours.”
“Yes.” Chanter bowed his head. “My shame.”
Talsy gasped, opening her mouth to protest, but Travain gripped her arm, stopping her. His eyes were fixed upon his father, intent on his words.
Law leant forward. “He should leave.” Removing one hand from his eyes, he wrote glowing blue words on the grass in angular writing that looked oddly familiar.
Chanter reached out, and a flash of tallana leapt between them, making Law recoil. Chanter wiped away the words with a sweep of his hand. “No. You will not drive him out.”
Kieran arrived and joined Talsy on the grass, and she whispered a brief explanation to him before Law spoke again.
“He causes me pain.”
“Why?” Chanter asked. “And how do you know god words, even write them?”
“I have them... in my head.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Law rocked miserably. “They’ve always been there, tormenting me, and I learnt to understand them.”
Chanter glanced at Talsy. “The staff was broken about seven and a half years ago. Law would have been in his flower, an embryo.” He turned back to the youth. “Law, what do the words look like?”
“They swirl, when he’s near,” Law groaned. “Always when there’s corruption near, they flash and whiz around, making me dizzy. If I open my eyes, they’ll escape.”
Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law Page 17