Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar

by Louise Cooper - Indigo 06

  There was no doubt that Yima had gone. Her clothes and most treasured personal possessions had vanished from the cave she occupied on the same level as her mother’s accommodation, and though she had left no parting message of any kind, Uluye didn’t need to order a search of the citadel to convince herself of the truth. Final confirmation had come when she had ascertained that Inuss was not to be found. She had already learned from Grimya that Shalune was involved in the plot, and from there it took only one simple step to establish the identity of the candidate who had taken Yima’s place.

  Uluye’s wrath was like a volcano on the brink of eruption. She burned for revenge. Revenge on her daughter, revenge on Shalune and Inuss—and revenge, too, on Indigo. She didn’t believe for one moment that the oracle hadn’t been a part of this conspiracy. Despite what the mutant animal had tried to tell her, Indigo must have known, and Uluye cursed herself bitterly for a fool. She’d sensed a flaw in Indigo, but she hadn’t had the wit to realize where it lay. Indigo was a false oracle; she had been false from the day she came to the citadel. Shalune had been the one to find her and bring her back; Shalune had been glibly ready to become her friend. Doubtless the two of them had been in league all along, and now the poisonous seeds they had sown were bearing fruit. Well, Uluye told herself as the rage seared through her, they hadn’t bested her yet. This affair wasn’t over by a long way. She would have vengeance.

  Now, with the priestesses gathered before her on the arena, she had made her intention utterly clear. The fiery torchlight glinted on spears, machetes and knives; it seemed that every one of the citadel’s inhabitants, from youngest to eldest, was armed in some way, and the sight gave Uluye a sense of hot satisfaction.

  “Remember,” she exhorted them, “they must be brought to me alive. Don’t dare to forget that for one instant! If they are maimed, if they are so much as harmed, I will flay the culprit and give her living remains to the hushu. Use any means necessary to gain information from the villages, but my blaspheming daughter and her seducer must return unscathed!”

  She prowled on, then stopped and turned on her heel to face the entire crowd. “They must be found! They will be found! For if they are not, I shall call the full power of the Ancestral Lady’s wrath upon you all. Do I make myself utterly clear?”

  Voices were raised in acknowledgment; Uluye nodded grimly. “Then waste no more time. Do your work—and be sure that you succeed.”:

  The crowd divided as the women set off. Most of them headed toward the forest, in the direction that Yima had taken, while a handful went in the opposite direction, along the path that led around the far side of the lake. They would comb the nearer reaches of the forest and then, if that proved fruitless, move on to the villages, search them and persuade or intimidate the inhabitants to yield any information they might have.

  At last the arena was empty but for Uluye. The High Priestess stood for some minutes staring at the torches guttering on their poles and at the chaos of scuffed footmarks in the sand; then she turned and strode back toward the ziggurat.

  As she neared the first staircase, a gray shadow detached itself from the darkness and ran toward her. Grimya had stayed back from the arena, unnerved by the frenzy of activity, but now she could keep silent no longer.

  “U-luye!” Her cry came out as a bark of desperation. “Wh … at of In-digo? What are we to d-do?”

  Uluye stopped and stared down at her. She still couldn’t quite bring herself to accept the truth about Grimya. The idea that an animal could have human intelligence and powers of speech gave her a shudder of revulsion each time she thought of it; it was alien to her, and because it was alien, she resented it deeply. With Grimya she felt out of her depth, and that was a condition Uluye found hard to tolerate.

  She said curtly, “I have more important matters to concern me than your precious friend. Move out of my way.”

  She would have stalked on, but Grimya barred her path and refused to move. “But we must f … ind her!” the wolf protested. “She is in dan-ger. We must open the Well again, follow her—”

  “Certainly not!” Uluye’s eyes blazed contemptuously. “No one may enter the Well except at the Ancestral Lady’s invitation. Now, must I tell you again to move?”

  “But Indigo is—”

  Uluye erupted. “A curse on Indigo, and a curse on you, you presumptuous mutant! Do you think I care what becomes of her? The Ancestral Lady has been insulted, and Indigo is responsible. The Lady will punish your precious Indigo as she sees fit, and neither I nor you nor anyone else will interfere! Do you understand me?”

  Before Grimya could protest again, before she could even react, Uluye thrust her aside and strode toward the staircase. Grimya made to follow, meaning to plead with her, or even to threaten and bite her if all else failed, but abruptly she realized that both pleas and threats would be futile. Nothing would sway Uluye. The High Priestess was glad to see Indigo in peril; she wanted vengeance on those she thought had betrayed her and her evil goddess, and she steadfastly refused to believe that Indigo, too, had been tricked. By Uluye’s twisted logic, Indigo could only be as guilty as Shalune and Yima, and Uluye would relish whatever punishment was meted out to her.

  But there was more to it than that. Watching Uluye as she began to climb the stairs, Grimya bitterly regretted the desperate impulse that had made her throw caution aside and reveal her own secret and the truth about Yima’s deception. She should have known that the coldhearted priestess would oiler her no sympathy and no aid, for Uluye had disliked and mistrusted Indigo from the beginning, and with Grimya’s telling of her story, that mistrust had flowered into blind hatred. The wolf had gained nothing; indeed, she’d only made matters far worse, for now Yima, too, was imperiled. Grimya hadn’t wanted to betray Yima, but Indigo’s safety was paramount in her mind and she’d known that her only hope of gaining Uluye’s help was to tell the whole truth. Now her hopes were smashed, and there was nothing she could do.

  Uluye was already a distant figure on the stairs, climbing toward the temple, from where she would watch for the searchers’ return. For a few moments more, Grimya continued to stare up at her; then, with death in her heart, she turned and slunk away into the shadows.

  Descending the staircase was like moving through a dream. The light from the strange trap door had long ago faded behind them, and though they still had the taper, its illumination was too dim to show anything beyond the next step. The silence was so intense that even the padding of their bare feet on the stone sounded loud and intrusive; Indigo listened hard for other telltale sounds, anything that might give some small clue about their surroundings, but there was nothing—until, without warning, the flight of steps came to an end.

  They stopped, gazing uncertainly at the last stair. Beyond it, the taper’s glimmer reflected on what looked like a smooth rock floor, but no one could tell, or liked to guess, what might lie beyond.

  At a cautious nod from Shalune, they moved forward and stepped down onto the floor, then stood huddled together, waiting. The rank, moist smell was stronger here, and the heavy air touched them with warm, damp, shapeless fingers. Inuss shivered; Indigo reached out to take her hand reassuringly. Then, abruptly, Inuss’s grip tightened as they realized that the darkness was lifting a little.

  The transition was gradual, but within a few seconds the utter blackness had given way to a deep, oppressive gloom, like the twilight before a storm. Shadows began to take dim form, sharpened into relief … and then the change was complete, and in the pewter-gray gloaming, Indigo and her companions could see their surroundings for the first time.

  The soft, awed breath that Shalune exhaled was answered by a hundred whispering echoes. Behind her, Inuss uttered a little cry, and Indigo could only stare mutely at the scene before them. They stood at the edge of a huge, still lake, its far shore lost in impenetrable darkness. Above and around them curved the walls and roof of a vast cavern, and under the cavern’s dome, the lake’s surface gleamed like a black mirror. I
ndigo thought suddenly that it might almost be a mirror, reflecting an image of that other lake far above them beside the citadel, but the fancy fled as she realized that no sun, moon or star had ever cast its light down into this bleak place. No fish had ever swum in these waters, and no blade of grass had ever taken root among the barren rocks surrounding them. This was truly a region of the dead.

  Then, as they stood in silence, not knowing what to think and still less what to do, a faint sound impinged on the quiet. At first there was no pattern to it, but after a few moments, Indigo began to recognize a distinct and familiar rhythm. It was the sound of a single oar, a sculling oar, cutting through the lake’s surface in long, steady strokes, and with it came the unmistakable splashing ripple of a boat making its slow way across the water toward them.

  Suddenly Inuss clutched her arm, choking back a squeal of fear. Out on the lake a silhouette was emerging from the darkness. First the high, narrow prow became visible, like some sea creature cautiously moving from its lair. Then the boat itself appeared. It was far smaller than Indigo had expected, broad and shallow, and bizarrely reminiscent of the dinghies carried by Davakotian hunter-escort ships; and it loomed slowly out of the murk, rocking gently as it glided over the lake’s surface.

  And from the stern, gaunt hands guiding the long oar, hair swinging dark and heavy about high, narrow shoulders, the boat’s solitary occupant gazed at them through the twilight gloom with eyes that glared like cold, cold stars.

  So slowly that she seemed to be in a trance, Shalune fell to her knees. Inuss sank down beside her, and they bowed their heads until Shalune’s brow and Inuss’s mask touched the cavern floor. Only Indigo stood motionless, watching the boat as it drew nearer; watching the chill, alien eyes that looked back at her with calm but dreadful intensity. She hadn’t anticipated this; she had expected some servant, some lower denizen of this world, sent to meet them and to conduct them on the final stage of their journey to the heart of the realm. But this was no mere servant. She sensed the being’s power, saw it glittering from the ice-cold eyes, felt an answering shudder in her own marrow. This was the demon. This was the Ancestral Lady herself.

  She was, in a terrible sense, beautiful. Her face, though bloodless and deathly white with an eerie, slatelike cast, nonetheless had a translucent loveliness that highlighted her gaunt, proud features and gave her an air almost of sadness. Her lips were black, full and sensual, her hair a darkly shimmering cascade that seemed to merge with her black robe, in which tiny flecks of silver shone like reflected water.

  198 ‘LOUISE-COOPER’

  Silver… Indigo’s heart contracted. Silver, the color of Nemesis, the clue that couldn’t be disguised. But no; surely there could be no connection. She knew Nemesis all too well, and however dark its nature might be, it didn’t wield power of this order….

  The boat stopped. There was no flurry of water, not even a ripple; it simply halted, floating motionless on the lake while Indigo and the Ancestral Lady continued to gaze at each other. With a second painful skip of her heart, Indigo saw now that the Lady’s eyes were as black as her lips and her hair, but around the irises was a fringe of silver brilliance, like the eerie corona that glowed about an eclipsed sun.

  Then, with a graceful, yet somehow faintly reptilian movement, the Lady turned her head. She looked first at Shalune, then at Inuss, and her black lips parted.

  “Rise,” she said. Her voice was rich, yet cold and strangely lifeless. Slowly, quaking, the two women rose to their knees. Inuss’s face was hidden, but through the priestess’s veil Indigo could just make out Shalune’s transfixed expression, which combined an extraordinary blend of terror and helpless love. The Lady looked steadily at them.

  “You have traveled a long way to find me. What do you bring to my realm?”

  Shalune had rehearsed the ritual speech a hundred times under Uluye’s fierce direction, but now that the moment had come, her courage deserted her. She struggled to find her voice, faltered, clasped her hands together, faltered again, knelt shivering like a terrified animal, and couldn’t utter a word.

  “Answer.” The Ancestral Lady’s tone became a shade impatient.

  “Great Lady.” Indigo spoke suddenly as she realized that Shalune was beyond help. She knew the prescribed words, or at least their gist; if Shalune couldn’t say them, then she must. “We bring to you our chosen candidate to take, in due time, the mantle of your High Priestess. We sponsor her and we sanction her, and we have walked the way between your world and ours to conduct her into youi presence, in hope that you will accept her as your own.”

  The silver-fringed eyes turned to her again. “Ah,” the Lady said distantly. “My oracle speaks of her own volition. Lift your veil, oracle. I wish to see your face more clearly.”

  Aware that Shalune was watching her intently, Indigo raised her hands to the veil and lifted it back. The Lady’s lips moved in the thinnest of smiles, though her eyes didn’t reflect it. “They have disguised you with charcoal and ashes, but I see through to what lies beneath,” she said. “Do you have a name, oracle?”

  “My name, madam, is Indigo.” Indigo paused for a moment, then added: “As I believe you know very well.”

  Shalune hissed, horrified by such recklessness. Again there was a long silence while Indigo and the Lady regarded each other, and Indigo realized with the first stirrings of disquiet that her initial assessment of this being had been wrong. She’d sensed from the first that the Ancestral Lady had power, but believing that she knew what she truly was, Indigo had assumed that her strength was built on false foundations. She had good reason for her belief: in the past, when dealing with the demons of the Charchad and of Simhara, and later in tangling with the shadowy life-devourer of Bruhome and the monstrous but intangible curse of Earl Bray of the Redoubt, she had learned that demons were never quite what they seemed. Their power was real enough, but at each encounter their limitations had proved to be far greater than she had been led to believe. Tapestries of deceit, spiderwebs of illusion and intrigue … yet they had had no more substance than a spiderweb, for their fabric had crumbled when the truth behind their trickeries was revealed.

  This demon, though, was different. Why she sensed it and why she believed it, Indigo couldn’t tell, but she was growing momently more certain that the power the Ancestral Lady wielded was no mere shade. This creature had substance. She was as real, every bit as real, as Indigo herself—and suddenly Indigo began to feel out of her depth.

  At last the Ancestral Lady’s dark lips parted once more. “I think that you are beginning to understand, Indigo,” she said. “You still have a long way to go, but a beginning is better than nothing. Do you fear me?”

  Heat stifled Indigo’s throat; she opened her mouth to deny the question but found suddenly that the words she wanted weren’t there. The Lady’s cold, quirkish smile flickered briefly once more.

  “Of course you fear me,” she said, answering her own question before Indigo could marshal her thoughts. “Who does not? I have never yet encountered a human soul that has no fear of what awaits it beyond death.”

  “You are not death …”

  “No. But death and I are cohorts of long standing, and what death begins, I see through to its conclusion. There are many possible conclusions, oracle. The very few who truly please me in life earn peace in my realm, and the sleep that knows no dreams. Others may be granted another kind of life as one among many of my servants, and that, too, can be a boon. But there are always some who, by their deeds or by their words, blaspheme against me and refuse to accept me as their suzeraine. For them there is only the mindless, ceaseless hunger of the hushu, for I devour their souls and I give no sanctuary to their bodies, and thus they can neither live nor die, but may only exist.” She paused, her eyes like coals within their pale aura. “Which fate would you choose, oracle?”

  Indigo’s pulse was hard, rapid and painful, but she forced herself not to flinch. “I would choose none of these, Lady.” she said. “My
loyalties—and my beliefs—lie elsewhere.”

  “Do they?” The Ancestral Lady inclined her head, an odd, birdlike movement. “We shall see, oracle. We shall see.”

  Then her head turned, and the silver-black gaze fastened on Shalune and Inuss. They shrank back; Inuss was shaking uncontrollably, and Shalune seemed little better. Their courage had crumbled to dust.

  “Why do you weep, candidate?” Suddenly the Lady’s voice took on a new, cruel edge. “What hides in your heart that your tears betray? Is it love? Or is it fear?” She paused, then: “Take off your mask.”

  Inuss made a terrible sound, midway between a moan and a cry of pain. Convulsively she wrenched at the wooden mask, breaking the catches in her clumsy haste; several of the bone ornaments fell to the stone floor, and then the thing was off and her stricken face—slick with perspiration and ugly with strain—stared at her goddess.

  The Ancestral Lady said: “Bring the mask to me, my child. Place it in my hands.”

  Inuss didn’t want to approach her, but nor did she dare disobey. She rose unsteadily to her feet, shuffled to the lake’s edge. The boat was too far out for her to reach; implacably the Lady waited, and at last Inuss stepped down into the water. Indigo heard her suck in a harsh breath as the water swirled about her knees, her thighs, her hips. She waded out, then held up the mask with a despairing, imploring gesture, bowing her head.

  The goddess stretched out one hand, and her long, black-nailed fingers touched the mask. Her nostrils flared; then slowly, slowly, she drew her hand back. An awful light, cold as the aura in her eyes, flared about her frame and hurled her momentarily into black silhouette, and she spoke in a voice that sent a shock wave through Indigo’s blood.

  “You are not the one who was chosen to serve me. You have come in the place of another!”