He nodded. ‘Yes, lass. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. I’m worried for you. I want things to work out for the best. I don’t want you hurt.’
She smiled again, relieved. ‘I see. Thank you.’
Movement in the sky snagged Murk’s eye and he looked up to catch a glimpse of their hunter gliding overhead. Would she never go away? He reflected that spite itself was unrelenting. That it fed on its own sustained sense of resentment and animus. He supposed that given that, she’d be up there for a long time yet.
He lowered his gaze to see Celeste watching him with something like puzzlement. He frowned. ‘What is it, lass?’
‘You do not approve of my choice yet you refrain from dissuading me. Why?’
‘Because it’s your choice. Not mine.’
‘Ah. I see, I believe. In that case, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘This may be goodbye then.’
The way she said that made Murk wish he were up there in the treetops in truth so that he could hold her and comfort her. ‘I’ll be fine, lass. You’ll see. Good luck.’
‘Thank you.’ Her deep jade image began to fade.
‘Don’t say thank you. It was a privilege and a pleasure. Don’t you worry now.’
The image dissolved into nothing. Murk sensed himself alone once more. Far below in the flesh he allowed himself a long slow exhalation. He felt that no matter what he should ever face in the future it in no way could ever approach the agonizing gamut of emotions he’d just traced. It was like attempting to disarm a Moranth munition while blindfolded without the first idea of how to proceed. What a responsibility! He’d never have children. That was for damned sure!
He raised his gaze to the sky. The moon was shining high behind the passing cloud cover. He’d prefer facing Spite to having to grope through another talk like that again. Hostility was so much simpler. So much more straightforward. The pain from bruisings and broken bones passed so much more quickly than bruising to the spirit. He focused upon calming his heart rate and breathing: the night was only half over.
And yet thinking about it all, he really ought not complain. He wasn’t the one attempting to cut the sword-arm off a Seguleh.
* * *
As the time passed, it became Shimmer’s habit to wander the sprawling dispersed grounds of Jakal Viharn. And every day, just when she thought she’d tracked down all the satellite temples and altars, she’d always stumble across a new structure: a leaning, crumbling stupa, or a hollowed-out tree stump huge enough to serve as a shrine, cluttered with candles, prayer-scarves, smoking incense and bowls of offerings.
What structures she found amid the jungle were all severely tumbled and fallen down. Mere foundations remained, or a single standing wall, canted, supported only by the roots of the trees that had brought the building low. She walked hills and cut channels before grasping the truth that Jakal Viharn consisted more of earthworks than of any stone buildings. She began to study the immense courses of humps and ditches and came to realize that many of them represented titanic forms that would only be comprehensible from above: an inward curving spiral as broad across as she could walk in one morning; a snake as large and long as any natural hill; and mounds. Many mounds. And most of these severely subsided, eroded and undercut by all the marshlands surrounding the site.
She was walking the border of one such mound, now hardly more than a rain- and jungle-eroded hump, when she came across another of the few adherents, monks and nuns, who lived in these grounds and spent their days in constant devotional meditation tending the shrines, lighting the incense sticks and refreshing the offerings. This one struck her as different from the rest, however. The nuns she had met so far had all worn their hair hacked short; this one’s black mane hung like a curtain of ink. She sat on a log, a long plain wrap of white silk drawn up tightly about her. At her feet sat a very young girl, an orphan perhaps, similarly wrapped in bunched white robes.
‘Greetings,’ Shimmer called.
The woman did not react; her dark eyes stared dreamily straight through Shimmer as if she did not see her. After a moment, the girl reached up and tugged on the woman’s robes. Blinking, she glanced down, and smiled. ‘Yes, child?’
The girl pointed to Shimmer.
The woman looked up, her gaze searching, then she raised her brows, nodding. ‘Ah, Shimmer. You have wandered far indeed. I am encouraged. I had forgotten that all you Avowed possess an intuition of what resides here.’
‘And that is?’
‘Why, everything that was, is, or ever will be, of course.’
Shimmer blinked. ‘I’m sorry …?’
The woman raised a hand to the mound behind her. ‘Are the colours not beautiful? They are powders, you know. They refresh them almost daily. The designs are wonderful. From the top you can see the Inner Circle of the Yan. It is set out in a mosaic of fired coloured bricks.’
The small hairs on Shimmer’s neck and arms stirred to stand on end. ‘I’m sorry. I saw no brick walkway. The jungle has consumed it.’
The woman nodded readily. ‘Of course. It will and has. The waters come to inundate the lowlands. Or is it the land sinking? I do not know for certain. What of the people crowding the way for market? You do not see them?’
‘No. I am sorry …’
‘Ah. They too shall pass away as well, of course. Yet they remain, for I see them even now as I see you. Why should you possess any more reality than they who also walk these same streets?’
Shimmer studied the woman more closely; her utter self-possession raised all kinds of alarms in her instincts. She decided to follow this intuition. ‘Am I to understand,’ she began respectfully, ‘that I am addressing Ardata herself?’
Smiling, the woman inclined her head. ‘Of course. I am further encouraged.’
Shimmer bowed – not so much out of respect as out of the knowledge that here was a power that every Ascendant, in every written account she knew, spoke of with great care indeed. ‘We have been waiting. K’azz is here. Shall I bring you to him?’
The goddess shook her head. ‘No, Shimmer. There is time for that. We are speaking now, you and I alone, because I wish it.’
Shimmer remembered the extreme caution counselled by K’azz regarding any face to face encounter with the Queen of Witches. She also remembered how it was universally claimed that this creature possessed the power to grant any wish one may desire. That thought alone almost completely choked her throat closed. She inclined her head and spoke, her voice rather hoarse: ‘How may I be of service?’
Ardata gestured to the fallen trunk at her side. ‘Sit with me, Shimmer. We must talk, you and I.’
‘And I?’ the girl asked, demonstrating a delicacy far beyond her years.
‘You may remain, Lek. If you wish.’
The girl stood awkwardly. ‘I will leave you to speak alone.’ She walked off with a shuffling slow gait and Shimmer realized that she was another of the lame and cast-out to whom Ardata perhaps offered a special sanctuary.
‘She is wise beyond her years,’ Shimmer observed.
‘Yes, she is.’ Ardata once more invited her to sit and she did so, rather quickly. The goddess turned to her and set her hands together upon her lap, regarding her closely. ‘You wonder what it is I desire of your commander,’ she said.
Shimmer was quite startled by the woman’s directness. She stammered, almost blushing, ‘Yes. I – yes. Even though I understand it is not my concern.’
‘Not your concern? Well, we shall see. I confess it started with Skinner. When he arrived commanding his company of the Avowed I was quite taken. I had given up the hope of ever finding anyone to stand by my side yet here was one who possibly could.’
Her gaze narrowed while she examined Shimmer and a thin smile crooked up her lips. ‘Ah … I see that I am not alone in having looked to him in such a manner. You, too, desired him for a time. But you have since given your loyalty and regard … elsewhere.’
She paused there,
her expression darkening, her mouth clenched. Sensing the force of this being’s disapproval, Shimmer wondered then how anyone could withstand it. Even Skinner.
‘I gave of myself,’ Ardata continued. ‘But he did not. I chose poorly.’ She plucked at her robes to adjust them. ‘Such has always been my curse.’ She was quiet again for a time, peering aside as if listening to another voice. ‘I understand now that he is not the one. That it had been K’azz, really, all along that I detected in him.’ She shifted to face Shimmer more directly. ‘So this brings us to my question. I am going to make the same offer to your commander. And my question is – what will you do?’
Shimmer was quite taken aback. If this being truly could plumb the depths of her mind or heart then surely she had no need for any such questioning. She was also quite offended. What business was it of Ardata’s? Anything between her and K’azz was their concern, not hers. Just as what might transpire between K’azz and Ardata was not for her to approve or disapprove.
A sudden panic made her dizzy as the suspicion dawned that this being before her possessed no grasp whatsoever of the human heart. She might see what lay within, but as to how the heart worked, and why … she was completely at sea. Utterly alien and utterly inhuman. K’azz’s earlier warnings regarding her sounded again and she understood. No common points of reference whatsoever. How we must frustrate her. Our actions and choices must be completely inexplicable to her. Even if she could read our thoughts – if she could – she must have no understanding of what drives those thoughts or actions.
Shimmer almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She cleared her constricted throat as she suddenly found it very difficult to speak. ‘That would be his choice, of course. I would have no say in the matter and would abide by his decision.’
‘Really?’ Ardata peered at her as if she were some sort of curious insect. Which, it occurred to Shimmer, humans may very well be to her.
The Queen of Witches was nodding to herself, gazing off as if distracted. ‘We shall see,’ she said. ‘I must think on this for a time.’ She waved to the girl where she sat among the trees nearby. ‘In the meantime Lek here will show you back to your companions.’
Shimmer bowed. ‘Until then.’
But Ardata appeared to have already dismissed her, or shifted her attention entirely away. Her deep night-black eyes were looking through her again as if she did not exist. Shimmer was quite startled when the child took her hand. ‘This way.’
‘Thank you, Lek.’
Shimmer adjusted her pace to the girl’s slow shuffle. She examined her composed expression, the shaved scalp and single long braid falling to one shoulder. ‘You are from a village nearby?’ she asked.
‘There are no villages nearby. Once there were many, but a great sickness came and almost no one was left. There was no one to mind the canals or reservoirs, to harvest the crops, or to repair the structures. Everyone went their own way. And the jungle came.’
‘I see. I’m sorry, Lek.’
‘Why? It is natural. It has happened before and shall happen again. Or ought to.’ She peered up at her, very serious. ‘You cannot hold back time for ever. Can you?’
Shimmer frowned. What an odd sentiment. Yet another oblique message for her? ‘I suppose not,’ she agreed.
The child beamed. ‘I am glad you agree.’ She peered up again, shyly. ‘You are a soldier. You must be very brave.’
Shimmer took in the outline of the girl’s twisted legs beneath her robes, her covered oddly shaped feet. Yet here she is leading me, a stranger, unselfconscious. ‘As are you, Lek.’
The girl blushed furiously and lowered her gaze as if embarrassed. She stopped then, pointing. ‘Your friends are over there.’
But Shimmer hardly heard her for she was staring at the girl’s naked arm where the robes had fallen away. It was misshapen, swollen, the flesh grey and pebbled. Lek caught her gaze, whipped her arm away, turned, and ran as fast as she could in her clumsy walk.
‘Lek! Wait! Please don’t—’
But she would not stop and disappeared among the trees.
Damn! Gods, what a fool I am! Oh, Lek. I am so sorry … Gods, I pray I will meet you again. Then I’ll hold you and not let you run away again.
She walked on, thinking perilous indeed is Jakal Viharn and conversing with Ardata. Perilous in so many ways …
* * *
For several days Hanu carried her. He assured her it was not trying for him at all. She tested the leg by walking longer and longer distances. It was healing; that Thaumaturg, Pon-lor, certainly did know his trade. This day they came to a rise, a hillock or mound. Giant tualangs crowned it and a river curled round three of its sides. Saeng wondered whether it was the same river they’d crossed days ago. Her spirits sank as she came to suspect that perhaps it was. One particular tree offered excellent purchase for climbing and she had Hanu lift her up so that she could try to have a look about. She ascended the mostly naked trunk to quite a height until she had a vista over the surrounding canopy. Here a sight almost made her cry. It was not the league after league of undifferentiated verdant emerald jungle that surrounded them on all sides. No, it was to the west. There, still within sight, rose the dark steep teeth of the Gangrek Mounts.
She threw herself down from hold to hold in a recklessness of despair. She almost fell the last short distance but Hanu steadied her foot. She climbed down a few more knots and depressions in the bark until he took her weight and lowered her. She kicked the tree with her bad leg then danced, cursing and fuming.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
She pointed mutely to the west, almost spluttering her disbelief. ‘We’ve come hardly any distance at all! We’ve just been meandering – directionless! Lost!’ Pon-lor’s warnings came to her then and she bit her lip. Damn the man. Yet he would have had her turn round!
She felt tears stinging in her eyes and she turned away. What were they to do? They were out of food, lost, and she was still without any hope of finding this ‘Great Temple’. She was a complete failure! Her throat burned as bile rose again – she’d been heaving of late, and suffering from the runs. She could keep little down and what she did manage to choke down went right through her. She knew it was their bizarre diet – the few odd things she knew to be safe to consume – but she wouldn’t risk poisoning herself with anything strange.
That was the worst of her maladies, of course. It was hardly worth dwelling upon the huge patches of angry itching rash, the swellings, the weeping infected cuts, and the countless bites from being eaten alive every night. Among all this, the infestation of maggots in a sore on her foot barely even registered.
She was weakening. They both knew it. She hadn’t the strength to fend off any new illness that might take her at any time. A raging infection, the chills, water fever – the list was endless. Then it would be the end. There was nothing Hanu could do.
Perhaps it would have been better if she had remained …
No! She struck a fist to the tree. I have my mission! I must succeed.
The faces of the drowned girls wavered in her blurring vision: you must help us, they had pleaded of her. Pleaded!
‘Which way?’ Hanu asked, ever practical.
Saeng started down the hillock. ‘It doesn’t matter any more.’
She walked among the brush for a time until she stumbled through hanging lianas, leaving a shower of fallen blossoms carpeting the dead leaves. They would disappear quickly, she knew, as the many insects would converge to consume them. As they shall me soon.
A rigid grip righted her. ‘You are delirious,’ a voice spoke in her thoughts. Arms lifted her then cradled her. She smelled something then: a scent of home. Woodsmoke. She reached for it. Rice steaming on the fire. Fish over the open flames. The arched branches of the high canopy passed her vision as she seemed to float effortlessly. She closed her eyes.
The scent of food woke her. A palm frond roof above. Reed walls. Movement, and an old woman appeared. She held out her hand; something was
smeared there. Saeng opened her mouth and the woman pressed her fingers within. Saeng swallowed. She did this many times until sleep took her once more.
She awoke once again and this time she could raise herself on her elbows. She was in a village. A village of Himatan yet not a ghost one. Living and breathing. She was alone in the hut; the old woman was gone. People crossed the open commons the hut faced: they were mostly naked, in loin wraps only. Some were painted in smears of coloured mud, male and female; others not. One woman noticed that she was awake and ran off. Moments later an old man thrust his face into the hut. He was painted, but garishly so, with feathers and necklaces of objects she took to be talismans: teeth, bits of metal, chipped stones, talons and a dried paw.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘Awake for certain,’ he remarked. ‘Have you the strength to converse?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Even better.’
‘What happened?’
He shrugged in a rattle of bones and claws. ‘You were ill with fever. Close to death. Your stone servant delivered you to us.’
Saeng sat up straighter. ‘Where is he – the stone servant?’
The old man gestured to the grounds. ‘He stands in the village, unmoving. No doubt he awaits your command.’
Of course. ‘Hanu? Can you hear me?’
‘Saeng! Shall I come?’
‘No. I’m all right – thanks to you. How are you?’
‘Sufficient.’
‘You’ve eaten?’
‘Yes. These villagers set out offerings and I ate some. This amused them no end.’
‘All right. Well … I’m tired still.’
‘Rest.’
‘Thank you, Hanu. Thank you for everything.’
‘It was nothing.’
Saeng sat back, relaxing. The old man had watched her throughout. ‘You communicated with your servant?’ he asked.
Saeng saw no reason to explain things; she just nodded.
‘Good. I know these things, you see. I am a great magus.’ He rattled the fetishes about his neck. ‘I command the shades of the dead. I am beloved of Ardata herself.’
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