by Julia Gray
'Where are we going?'
'To the elders.'
'In your village?' he guessed.
'In the village,' she replied. 'Inside the day-stones.'
'Is it far?'
Imana shook her head, but did not elaborate.
Their path curved round so that - as far as Terrel could judge - they were heading roughly northwards again. He could only see a short distance in any direction, but he did make out the still surface of a lake to their left.
'I'm on my way to Talazoria,' he ventured. 'Do you know the way there from here?'
Imana looked confused, and a little frightened, by this idea.
'Is that in the burning lands?' The city's name obviously meant nothing to her.
'It's beyond the clouds, yes,' Terrel replied. 'On the far side of the valley from where I came in.'
'I know nothing of the burning lands,' she said, sounding worried.
'Is something wrong?'
'The jasper . . .' she began, then faltered. 'You must talk to the elders.'
After that she increased her pace and, recognizing her unease, Terrel saved his breath for the task of keeping up with her. The light was growing even dimmer now, and he guessed that - far above — the sun was sinking towards the western mountains. His eyes were adjusting slowly, but the change didn't seem to affect Imana at all. He presumed that having spent her entire life beneath the cloud — incredible though that notion was — her eyes would be enormously sensitive to even the lowest levels of illumination.
After a while, a small flapping shape appeared in the distance ahead of them.
It soon resolved itself into the figure of a little boy, running towards them along the path, his footsteps thudding softly in the gathering gloom. When he was close enough to see them clearly he came to a sudden, skidding halt, and stared. His skin was just as pallid as Imana's, and his eyes looked even bigger in his small face. His expression was a mixture of awe and horror.
'Are you burnt?'
Terrel smiled.
'No. I am quite well.'
'This is the Messenger, Brin,' Imana said impatiently. 'What are you doing beyond the day-stones so late?'
'I can run fast,' the boy retorted defiantly.
'Then run back and tell Tavia that we're coming.'
The child hesitated for a moment, apparently considering what to say next, then turned around without a word and ran back the way he had come. Imana sighed.
'My brother is hopeless,' she said apologetically. 'It's because he's the youngest.'
'How many of you are there?'
'Three hundred and seven.'
Terrel laughed.
'I meant how many brothers and sisters do you have?'
'Oh. Just me and Brin.'
Terrel thought about this.
'Did you mean Brin is the youngest of all of you, of everyone in the village?'
The boy had looked to be about four years old, and it seemed unlikely that there was nobody younger than that in such a large community.
'That's right,' Imana confirmed. 'All the others . . .
Well, you must know about that.'
Terrel was about to deny any such knowledge when he was distracted by the sight of two large stones, one on either side of the path. Their shape and position gave the impression that it was not a natural formation, and he half expected to see their surfaces carved with more patterns. However, as they passed through the monolithic gateway, he saw that the rocks were unmarked.
'Are these the day-stones?'
'Yes,' Imana told him. 'We're safe from the darkness now.'
Terrel was bursting with unspoken questions, but he didn't want to burden his companion with endless queries, so decided to wait until he met the elders.
After walking for perhaps another half mile, he saw the first signs of the village. From a distance, the single-storey houses were just dark shadows in the mist. No light shone from any lamp or window, and it was so quiet that Terrel wondered if the place was deserted. However, as they drew closer he was able to make out more details, and he eventually realized that groups of people were standing quite still and in perfect silence outside each building.
They all watched intently as Imana and Terrel went past, heading towards the centre of the settlement, but no one spoke or waved in greeting. It was one of the oddest, most intimidating experiences of Terrel's life.
Imana led him to a small wood-built hut, which was entered via a porch. The room inside had a door but no windows, and it was so dark that Terrel only saw the single occupant when she moved. The old woman rose stiffly to her feet and looked at the newcomer.
'Tavia-lan,' Imana said in a respectful tone. 'This is Terrel, the Messenger.'
The girl had stayed on the porch, and was now hovering in the doorway.
'I am honoured to meet you, Terrel,' Tavia said. 'This will be your home.'
'My home?'
'Where you will sleep,' she explained, 'until the jasper oracles are fulfilled.'
Terrel did not like the sound of that, but he was given no chance to protest.
'You have the healing in you,' Tavia went on. 'I can feel it. But for now we must rest. The darkness is almost upon us. There is food here,' she added, pointing to a half-seen table. 'And your bed is prepared. We will consult you in the morning.'
With that Tavia left him, touching Imana on the forearm as she went out. The girl nodded, but said nothing. Terrel put down his pack and investigated his surroundings. The food turned out to be bowls of various nuts and vegetables, none of which were familiar to him. He ate a little, finding the tastes bland, but did not have much of an appetite. The darkness outside was now almost complete, and it would clearly be absurd to think of trying to continue his journey in such conditions. He thus had little choice but to take up Tavia's offer of a night's rest. Taking out his blanket, he wrapped himself in it as he lay on the pallet, and tried to calm his thoughts enough to go to sleep.
It was only when she moved slightly that he realized that Imana had not left, but was curled up in the doorway like a guard dog.
'Imana?' Terrel called softly.
There was no reply, and he assumed that she was already asleep. As he lay there, lost in speculation, Terrel's apprehension grew. For all his hosts'
benevolent and even reverent behaviour towards him, he could not escape the feeling that he was in fact their prisoner.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Terrel dreamt that he was on an island. It seemed comforting at first, but then he realized that it was a cold place, formed within a circle of giant standing stones and surrounded by a sea of darkness. Then he saw that the darkness itself was an island, encircled by a dazzling white ocean which moved slowly in tides that held no reason.
He awoke shivering, in a darkness so complete that he feared he had gone blind. As his panic subsided, he told himself that the night down here —
without moon- or starlight - would be pitch black. He had only to wait for dawn — or what passed for dawn in this valley.
Before he fell asleep again, he reflected that this place was indeed like an island in a way, cut off from the mainland by a sea of cloud.
When Terrel next awoke, a feeble grey light was filtering in through the open doorway. It was barely bright enough
for him to see the far side of the room, but outside there was noise and movement. For the people of the village, the day had evidently begun in earnest.
Imana came in, carrying two bowls which she set on the table.
'Good morning, Mess— Terrel,' she said with a shy smile. 'I've brought your breakfast.'
Terrel went to look at the bowls, but could not identify their contents. The food appeared pale and insipid, and his expression must have betrayed his distaste.
'You must eat,' she told him. 'Food is strength.'
'What is it?'
'Tymar paste and nepp roots,' she said proudly. 'The finest.'
Reluctantly, Terrel tried a little of each. The paste was
like watery porridge, and the sliced roots were crisp but equally tasteless.
'I like them best together,' she said.
'Sit down and share it with me,' he suggested.
Imana smiled, glanced round to see if anyone was watching, then sat on the stool next to Terrel's. At his urging she took a piece of root and dipped it in the paste before popping it into her mouth and chewing with apparent relish. Terrel followed suit and found that the combination did indeed make it slightly more palatable.
'Does the cloud never lift?' he asked after a while. 'You've never seen the sky? Or the sun?'
'No!' Imana appeared quite horrified by the idea. After a few moments, she asked, 'Have you really looked at the sun?'
'Well, I haven't looked directly at it,' he replied. 'That would hurt my eyes.
But I've seen it many times.'
'It would kill any of us,' she whispered. 'Burn and kill us without mercy.'
Terrel found that he believed her. The people of the valley had obviously adapted to their home, and in that world of ever-present shadow it was easy to see how the sun might become a terrifying, almost mythical being. Too much exposure to its heat and light were harmful even to those in the upper realms.
For the men and women here it might well prove deadly. And yet it was not the absence of the sun that Terrel found most difficult to comprehend. A world where the sky was permanently screened also meant that no one down here had ever seen the moons.
The phases of the four moons had influenced almost every aspect of life on the Floating Islands and, until now, the same had been true of everywhere Terrel had visited in Macul. Although their methods of observation, their rituals and laws, varied in their details, the people of Macul also obeyed the dictates of the sky.
Their country was bigger than Terrel could ever have imagined. He had travelled almost the entire length of Vadanis, which was the largest of the islands by far, and yet it could have been lost many times over in any one of Macul's provinces. Cutter's estimate of the distances involved in his proposed journey had been wildly inaccurate, and Terrel had found making his way to Talazoria an extremely difficult task. The only straightforward part had been the very first - the long walk from Fenduca to Aratuego. After that, he had sought and received a good deal of advice along the way - much of it contradictory. At Aratuego he had been told of three main trading routes to the capital city, all of them sounding very complicated, with different people advising him that their choice was clearly the best. Thereafter, each decision he had made only seemed to make his progress even more complex, and he'd begun to despair of ever reaching his elusive goal.
During his travels, Terrel had encountered many wonders: a sacred waterfall where lunar rainbows turned the night into an enchanted realm; an entire mountain which had been carved into a single colossal sculpture by an unknown race who were long gone; a forest so vast and deep it had threatened to swallow him whole, and which had contained the remnants of a lost city, abandoned and overgrown - now only a magnificent relic of a vanished civilization; hot springs surrounded by white stone deposits that looked like frozen waterfalls; a plateau that was criss-crossed with deep fissures, each of which had to be traversed on swaying rope bridges. He had seen pools where gases bubbled up from the rock, fires that burned brighter than anywhere else, and lakes that were studded with stone towers of improbable shapes. He had visited a town that made even Fenduca look solid and prosperous, for the simple reason that each spring the meltwaters from the nearby mountains would rise and the floods would carry the entire settlement away. These same waters brought the chance of wealth, so people returned year after year in spite of the obvious perils. 'Some always stay too long,' one prospector had told Terrel with a shrug.
All these things and more had amazed and fascinated him, but he'd never lost sight of his original intent, always moving on, drawing slowly closer to the jewelled city.
Somewhere along the road - he had no idea where — he had spent his fifteenth birthday. It had passed unnoticed and uncelebrated, and he'd only realized that he was a year older when midsummer's day had come and he had still not reached Talazoria.
In all that time, he had not seen Alyssa and the ghosts once. During his more optimistic moods, he took this to mean that his progress along the unknown road was satisfactory, and that he therefore had no need of their guidance. At other times their absence depressed him, and made him wonder if they had abandoned him - or if they were simply unable to find him. Neither possibility was comforting.
At least what he had to do was clear in his mind, and he was able to concentrate all his efforts on getting to Talazoria. What would happen when he eventually succeeded was a different matter, and one he didn't want to consider until the time came. However, as his journey dragged on, he began to long for his friends, for some companionship.
By the time Terrel reached the valley, he knew that if there were to be any more delays, he would have little or no chance of returning to the coast within the allotted time span. If that happened, his return home would have to wait another year, and this was something he could hardly bring himself to contemplate.
Terrel's promised meeting with the elders took place almost as soon as he'd finished eating. There were eight of them and, to his surprise, they were all women - and at least two of them did not look very old. It was another sign of how this place was set apart from the rest of Macul.
The gathering took place in the open air. After Tavia had completed the introductions, they all sat on benches round a circular table, in what Terrel assumed was the central square of the village. No one interrupted their discussion, but many people - men, women and children - watched from a distance even as they went about their normal business. Terrel noticed that some people looked horrified - presumably by the sight of his dark skin - but he had little attention to spare for the onlookers. He was anxious to learn what the elders expected of him - and to determine when he'd be allowed to go on his way. With the coming of the muted daylight, he had considered simply walking out, heading in the direction he hoped would lead him to the northern pass. His best guess was that the village was more or less at the centre of the oval-shaped valley and, if he was lucky, he might have emerged into the sunlight in an hour or two. But he had rejected this idea. It would have seemed ill-mannered, and he was still hoping that his hosts would help him to find the correct route. In any case, he had not yet heard what they had to say
- and he wasn't even sure that they would have allowed him to leave.
'This is a joyous day,' Tavia began. 'One we have been awaiting for many years. The Messenger has come, and the oracles will be fulfilled at last.'
'Are we to accept him as our leader without even testing him?' one of the younger women asked. Terrel recalled that her name was Amie, and that she hadn't smiled when they were introduced, but had simply nodded her head in greeting.
'Do you doubt his identity?' Tavia asked, looking surprised.
'No. He is the Messenger.'
'Then—'
'How can any man, especially one so young, understand our problem?' Amie cut in. 'Let alone solve it?'
'It is my belief that Terrel is a healer,' Tavia said. 'The rest does not matter.'
''Are you a healer?' a grey-haired elder called Zelgren asked, looking at the boy.
'Yes.' Terrel had been following the exchange intently, bewildered yet again by the reference to himself as their putative 'leader'. He had been waiting for a chance to speak, and took the opportunity they'd offered him. 'But many illnesses are beyond my powers. I don't know whether I'm the Messenger or not, but I have to tell you that I cannot stay here long. I have sworn to travel to Talazoria as soon as I can. If I fail in that, the consequences for all of Macul will be disastrous.' He glanced around at the faces ranged about the table, and saw both shock and uncertainty in their expressions.
'Is this the voice of the oracle?' Amie asked sharply.
'The jasper cannot lie!' someone else retorted.
'It was not meant to be this way,' Tavia commented, in a tone that betrayed her disappointment.
Terrel was not yet sure which way he wanted this debate about his identity to go, but having made his position clear, he felt he ought to offer some sign of cooperation. It was possible that he might be able to do what they wanted and still meet the extended terms of his bargain with the elemental.
'I will help you all I can,' he said. 'But, as I told you, my time is limited
- and I can't understand your problem unless you tell me what it is.'
Tavia looked around at her companions and received nods of agreement from all except Amie, who merely shrugged, her white face impassive.
'For the last four long cycles, our women have been afflicted by a mysterious illness,' Tavia began. 'During that time, all the children born here have either been dead at birth, or have been so sickly that they died in infancy.'
Terrel's heart sank. Such a terrible disease would surely be beyond his skill.
'So Brin really is the youngest here,' he said quietly.
'He's the last one to survive,' Tavia confirmed. 'None of our efforts to counteract this plague — or even to discover its cause — have met with any success. And now it seems that some women of childbearing years have become barren. If things go on like this, our community will simply grow old and die.'
For a few moments Terrel was too horrified to speak, but he knew they were expecting him to say something.
'Are any women still becoming pregnant?' he asked eventually, desperately trying to hide the embarrassment he felt at having to ask such a question.
'There are only six at present,' Tavia replied. 'Most of them in the later stages. We'll take you to see them when you're ready.'
'Do they seem well?'
'Outwardly, yes. That's the most mystifying aspect of this epidemic. The mothers have all seemed to come to term in perfect health, and yet their babies have still been afflicted. If there was any obvious problem, we might have been able to treat it. There are those among us who are skilled with herbs and essences, but the women show no sign of needing such treatment, and we