Circle of Nine: Circle of Nine Trilogy 1

by Josephine Pennicott

  The Janusite considered this while both his heads gazed into the past and future.

  ‘I feel that Eom is not dormant. Instead it is resting, waiting and gauging what direction to take next. There must be something that keeps it here. Indeed, there was something that drew it here.’

  Mary sighed, stood and stretched, then crossed to the rear wall to sit on the window seat and gaze out at the heavens from the star room where they were working. Ano watched her with concern as he began to tidy the room. Her thought patterns were clearly visible on the walls of the room. He watched the tired scenes unfold in her mind with a worried frown. There were no secrets between the two, apart from the potential futures that he foresaw as a Janusite; these were concealed from all.

  The Janusite had been the High Priestess’s closest confidant ever since her first legendary crossing as a little girl. The young Mary had been appointed Faiaite nursemaids to care for her, but to the Faiaites’ bemusement, she had chosen to adopt Ano, a Janusite who had made a meagre living telling fortunes in the marketplace. Originally taken aback by the little Bluite’s devotion to him, Ano had come to understand that she was merely close to the memories of other lives they had shared together.

  Over the years the bond between the two had strengthened. Mary relied on Ano daily for his insights into Eronth culture, his knowledge of Faery lore and his skill at deciphering the Tremite Book of Life, not to mention his unswerving friendship, honesty and loyalty to the High Priestess. He had lost count of the number of times Mary had begged him to take a wife, not only for company but to help restore the rapidly diminishing numbers of Janusites in Eronth. But he had always insisted he was too young, too busy and too ugly. Of course the truth was that his heart and soul belonged to the High Priestess. Although he had long ago painfully accepted that there could never be a match between them, he preferred to conserve his energy for her protection and friendship. Both would have trusted the other with their life. Now Ano looked upon Mary with concern on his faces. The Belthane celebrations had taken their toll upon her this season, as the elaborate preparations that this very special Belthane had entailed had demanded Mary undergo a strenuous routine of fasting and rituals. Persephone was still refusing to rise and the Faiaites were beginning to transfer their fear of famine into outright resentment that Mary didn’t have more control over the Goddess. The giants, as always, were whingeing that they didn’t have enough territory, they were placed in a forest outside of the Glade of the Almost Were, and now they were threatening to relocate into the Wastelands.

  Ano was also aware from his sources that the village was filled with gossip that the Faery tribes, including the notorious Imomm tribe, were joining together in magical league with each other in an attempt to reclaim Faery as the main power in Faia.

  And there had been whispers reaching even the High Priestess’s ears that the Sea Hags had been spotted walking across the land, and that they too wished the Bluite to be expelled from her position. The Sea Hags were a group of sisters who lived under the ocean with the ancient Warrior Queen Sea Hag Shambzhla. It was no secret in Eronth that the ocean hags hated the land dwellers, believing that the land that they lived on was their natural territory, as it had once been under water. They also resented the burgeoning fishing and sailing trade of New Baffin, wanting the two-legs to keep out of the oceans. The Scribes had long been predicting that the Sea Hags would refine their magic to the point that they could walk and breathe on land.

  As his left head looked to the past Ano reflected with deep admiration on the almost miraculous changes that the Bluite, whom he served, had brought about in Faia. There was no doubt in his mind that Mary had only been the catalyst for positive change in the village. It was widely, and conveniently, forgotten that prior to her arrival the full-blood Faery tribes had run amok in Faia. The number of changelings they had stolen and the petty thieving from all the known worlds had continually invoked the wrath of the Dreamers, resulting in many natural disasters in Faia. The Great Wet Season, when many Faiaites, Faeries and Janusites had drowned, was but one example. Now, eager for a scapegoat for their scanty crops, there were some traitors engaged in insinuating there would be dire consequences in having a Bluite in power. As he reflected thus his right head looked to the future and he twitched his lip with the pain of the vision that he never failed to see there. Being a Janusite was both a blessing and a curse.

  ‘Master Ano?’

  There was a tugging on his sleeve. He looked down to see the two chambermaids who had joined them from service in Barlem looking up at him. Native Faiaites, their young faces had that appealing mixture of features which suggested part-Faerie blood. They looked exotic and sensuous, but their facial features had more symmetry and proportion than the full-bloods. Also, the wild, unearthly destructive energies that could surge so strongly through the full-bloods’ veins were inevitably diluted and more harmonious.

  ‘Master Ano? Is it to your liking that we prepare the Priestess’s bedchamber for the night?’

  It was Bambi who spoke, her voice betraying distinct Barlem nuances. Ano glanced at Mary who sat unheeding, staring in reverie at the black sky dotted with galaxies, lost in her contemplation of the glittering universes.

  ‘Yes, good girls, but no wasting time in Her Lady’s rooms!’ Ano reprimanded.

  He knew what time wasters these two could be, spending way too long on the simplest of chores. Foolish girls, he thought, already forgetting them as they sped quickly away with an admiring backward glance at Mary and their usual fit of girlish giggles.

  *

  Inside Mary’s bedchamber the two young maids quickly turned down the quilted bedspread and arranged the crystals in the formation around the bedhead as they had been instructed. Shaking out the Priestess’s white silk nightgown, Kryssti held it against herself, striking elaborate poses while Bambi dissolved into helpless giggles. Side by side they watched each other in the full-length wall mirror, stifling their helpless laughter and attempting to be serious. For a second their eyes met and they gave in to the temptation. To impress the other and to reassure themselves.

  They glimmered, moved, shape-shifted. Large, slightly elongate Faiaite eyes stretched into luminous black, cold, tranquil eyes. Poisonous spines began to push and merge from the flesh in their backs and along their arms. Their brain split — the right side collapsing to under their chin, the left pushing up to the top of their head. Elegant Faiaite hands transformed into crusher claws. Then their stomachs opened — revealing row upon row of deadly teeth. On each of their bodies fluttered twenty pairs of gills. Faiaite hair previously tethered into tidy chignons fluttered wildly now in green and black seaweed to their knees.

  No sign of the giggling maids remained as they stood, each admiring the other’s reflection. They had achieved what people had claimed was impossible. They were the first of their kind to move out of their natural environment for an extended period of time and they had dared to penetrate the High Priestess’s quarters and live in close proximity to the Bluite with no suspicion being roused against them. Even the sharp-eyed Janusite that trotted beside her like a panting meerwog had failed to penetrate their Glamour! Oh, it was risky . . . but they had everything to gain. The sisters had plotted and schemed for hundreds of years while the tides ebbed and flowed and the waters merged from the Great Shell and back again. Now they stood, the first of the sisters that would follow in the High Priestess’s private chambers, holding the nightgown that she wore against their own scales. Even their remaining sisters had been openly sceptical that their Glamour would not be penetrated by the land dwellers. But they had achieved the impossible . . . gills fluttering, they joined claws, combining strength, drawing on the power that had carried them this far.

  *

  The nightly routine at the High Priestess’s residence carried on as usual. Ano and Mary pored over the Book of Life in the hope of deciphering some clue that would help them. In the kitchen the maids shared a jug of esteo, their chores over, whil
e they bathed their feet and relived all the details of Belthane. Upstairs, the house enclosed that mocking embodiment of scales, spikes and claws that was feared throughout the known worlds: the Sea Hags.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  In the underground, Persephone listened anxiously for the tormented sound of Demeter’s cries. She dreaded the wail that could be mistaken for wind but was instead the call of a broken heart. Relaxing, she released her breath slowly. All that could be heard from the overground was silence. Relief flooded through her, for Hades could fly into swift, terrible rages if he witnessed Demeter’s tormented grief. For the moment it was safe; he was engaged in the inner chambers of the underground entertaining the angel Ishran.

  A bat flew past squeaking and Persephone jumped. Ishran and his hag wife Sati had recently been spending a lot of time visiting Hades. Their meetings were always held in the inner chambers and Persephone was never invited. A sure sign, she thought wryly, that the overthrow of the goddesses was on their agenda. Although Persephone was relieved not to have to endure Hades’ volatile mood changes, she had to admit when he was away from her the time passed so slowly. She had spent the morning playing with the new toy that he had brought for her amusement, a dead Crossa. But Persephone was becoming weary of such trifles. She had begun to long for life.

  She wanted to feel the light of the Triple Moons, her hair lift in a cool breeze, watch life sprout from seeds. She had listened to the Belthane rites of the Faiaites with dismay; it was obvious life was proceeding without her in the Overland. Even Demeter had ceased to mourn and sob and plead.

  Persephone’s acute senses, honed by many moon seasons in the dark caverns of the underground, meant she was skilled in perceiving the slightest difference in the overhead vibrations. A strange, discernible echo was evident through the thick layers of soil. Faia was undergoing changes; transformation was spiralling headlong, but what exactly was happening?

  Persephone strained to hear but all that her ears detected was the muffled whispers of change. Bored, she played with the dead Crossa, waiting and willing Hades to complete his meeting and come to her. She had been weary and depressed more frequently and her head had begun to ache for lack of fresh air. Perhaps she should just leave, she thought, brushing the Crossa’s hair. Now is the time to steal away, while Hades is occupied with his precious angels. It’s time to flout his commands and return to the overground. Or should she stay? Stay to rule as Queen of the Dead and sit in the eternal silence listening to her heart beat and her cells change. Tears fell from her eyes at her loneliness.

  ‘What should I do?’

  Persephone appealed aloud to the Crossa, the remains of a young, dark-haired woman. The Crossa made no reply but stared blankly at Persephone with eyes that were empty of life but not at peace. Persephone began to sob at the futility of having conversations with the dead.

  The meeting with Ishran and Sati was not progressing as smoothly as Hades had envisaged. Ishran and Sati had appeared full of good cheer when they first arrived, bearing a Crossa as a gift for Persephone. (As if she didn’t have enough toys, Hades thought, but he accepted it with a pretence of forced delight.) Sati, he decided, looked particularly beautiful on this visit. She had obviously used Glamour, but with subtlety. Hades found himself engrossed in every word she said, laughing heartily at every witticism she uttered. He admitted privately to himself that he had always been a little in love with Sati. He would love to pull her to the underground and keep her locked away in one of his caverns! he thought bawdily. Well, what man wouldn’t be in love with Sati, he reasoned.

  Today, for Hades’ appreciation, she had woven hundreds of minute bones of the dead through her waist-length black hair. The bones were arranged in complex patterns amid the patchouli musk scent of her hair. He allowed himself a moment’s fantasy of that beautiful hair covering the deadly white skin of her voluptuous body until he became aware that Ishran’s reptile eyes were fastened coldly on him, and Hades pulled himself together in time to register Sati’s next words.

  ‘We want Persephone to remain underground. Permanently. Yet even as we talk she is thinking of rising, preparing herself to rise. So far you have managed to delay her, but it is not enough. Remember, Persephone is like a child that must be kept constantly amused to pass the time. You have not been honouring your contract to us, Hades. You leave the Goddess alone for long periods of time. You rut with other women within hearing distance of her. She is unstimulated.’

  Ishran leaned forward, his hand possessively on Sati’s leg. From one ear swung several bones that he had arranged in a design. His hair was as long and as dark as Sati’s. His breath was frost-black ice. An attractive man. Hades decided, but not deserving of such a witch goddess as Sati!

  ‘Seeing that you are incapable of keeping Persephone entertained, we will help you out,’ Ishran said smoothly. ‘We will deliver to her a new toy. Something that will stimulate her and keep her amused. Instead of another dead Crossa we will bring you a live Crossa.’

  ‘It won’t survive down here!’ Hades interrupted, displeased at Ishran’s inference that he didn’t know how to treat Persephone. ‘I’ve tried live ones before and they all died on her, which, Zeus knows, turned her against me for nights!’

  Sati placed a hand on his arm and her touch was forbidden velvet. Later, her glance promised him, when Ishran is occupied, I will return here and you can take your pleasure of me in one of your underground caverns. Her promise lulled and bewitched him.

  ‘Bring the Crossa, then, but I did make a sacred promise to Demeter! Even now her rage is renting Eronth. There have been earth tremors and whales and dolphins stranding in all the worlds in response to her fury! If Zeus decided to intervene . . .’

  ‘He won’t,’ Sati cut in smoothly. ‘The day of the goddesses is dying. Zeus and the harpies that he surrounds himself with are losing more and more power.’

  Hades glanced fearfully around him at her blasphemy but undaunted she pressed on.

  ‘The new religion will have Ishran and I at its forefront. The goddesses and their pathetic nature worship will be erased and forgotten. Both the Eronthites and the inhabitants of all known worlds will worship accumulation of wealth and material possessions in the new age!’

  Her eyes glinted with her passion. ‘We will create a world of illusion and Glamour so thick no-one will be able to break free of it!’

  Hades hesitated. In his heart he doubted Sati and Ishran had enough power between them to overthrow the old goddesses, but the idea of pushing himself between her long, thin, white legs and taking his pleasure from her was temptation enough to make him believe.

  ‘Who is the Crossa you will bring?’ he queried. ‘Is it anyone important?’

  He hoped it was a girl, an attractive girl. Then both he and Persephone would benefit. Sati smiled and he admired her back teeth filed to sharp points.

  ‘No-one of any importance, Hades. My sister.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  All things change.

  As the corn is sown and reaped,

  The day moves into night.

  Everchanging is the light.

  And like dust we move through light and life.

  All things change.

  — From the Faian song ‘All Things Change’

  Time passed slowly as we rode our ilkamas through the Wastelands toward the Azephim castle. Although the tall dark spires of Ishran’s ancestral home were easily glimpsed in the misty blue horizon of the Wastelands, we never seemed to get any closer to it. After the sun had set twice upon us and the castle appeared still further in the distance, Khartyn let out a soft whistle.

  ‘Sati, my little black bird, is playing games with us! Let’s try travelling back toward Faia!’

  Infuriated, I wheeled Jabi in the direction of Faia. My lower back ached from the constant travelling. Khartyn appeared to have only one goal in mind: to reach the castle in the shortest time possible. She had allocated a minimum time for breaks and was pushing the ilkam
as and us as much as she dared. When I finally summoned the courage to question the gruelling pace she curtly admonished me, stating that the Wastelands was not a healthy place and not one to linger in. Now she was demanding that we return to our original starting point!

  I sat wearily upon Jabi’s back as we began to travel in the opposite direction. To my amazement, the castle appeared instantly on the horizon and immediately became slightly larger as we moved toward it.

  Khartyn chuckled. ‘Sati loves her tricks!’

  Rosedark was subdued and I sensed that she was not happy with being back in the Wastelands. A promising, gifted apprentice she might be, but she was still Faiaite-born and all Faiaites feared the Wastelands and the creatures who inhabited them. I longed to discuss the events of Belthane, but as with everything else in Eronth anything that occurred out of the eternal ‘now’ was no longer considered important or even polite conversation. The words and the questions would rise up in me but dissipated before I could speak them.

  I soon found myself preoccupied with the panoramic desolation around me, and the sound the leaves made as they blew gently with the wind elementals. In the ‘now’ the sensations that resulted from direct clear observation were so vivid and hallucinatory that it became almost impossible to think or discuss anything that did not co-exist with ‘now’.

  The countryside had begun to dramatically change since leaving Faia. Gone were the sprawling and once-prosperous crop fields much laboured over by the Faiaites for their daily survival. Foliage did not grow easily in Wastelands soil. Very little appeared to flourish here. The exception was a large silver shrub, the only vegetation that grew in profusion over the hills and dales of the bleak landscape. Khartyn informed me the shrub, was known as an endi shrub and warned me against consuming the plump berries that dangled so invitingly, so I assumed the endi was poisonous and yet another trap for the unwary or ignorant traveller.