She felt weak, and an evil kwea hit her, a feeling of grief so profound, she could not voice it. She fell to the ground and wished only for her own destruction.
“You could not have saved him,” Chaa whispered. “The beast saw him, knew what Tull was, and I was not there to protect him. The beast knows its enemies. None of us could have done anything.”
Fava lay on the ground. The words were no comfort for the empty place in her heart. She shouted, hoping to voice her pain, and Tull opened the front door, stepped out, his face a pale mask.
“It let you live?” Chaa hissed, and Tull nodded. He staggered to Fava, knelt, and put his arms around her. Chaa asked in wonder, “The beast tasted your soul, and it let you live?”
Tull nodded dumbly. “I—I don’t know what happened. I walked the Land of Shapes, found the mayor, and then it came. The beast swallowed me. But then it spit me out.”
Chaa reached for Tull’s hand, but then would not touch it. He looked deep into Tull’s eyes, as if viewing a stranger, and Chaa seemed more grieved to see Tull alive than dead.
He stood for a long moment, just holding Tull’s shoulders. “The Beast knows its enemies—as well as its allies,” Chaa said at last, turning away, his voice husky with revulsion. “I do not think that I should train you anymore.”
***
Chapter 16: Rejection
A crowd grew outside the house, and Tull turned away from Chaa, as if so shocked by Chaa’s rejection that Tull didn’t know what else to do.
Fava held Tull, worried for him, her hands brushing against him, as if to reassure herself that Tull was alive. Yet no one else would come near them.
Little Wayan huddled against Zhopila’s legs, and the street began to fill with Pwi who had heard the screaming. Some people went to the back of the house, stood staring at the massive redwoods that lay snapped, sprawling across the barren field where old Vi kept her cows and pigs.
Others looked with dismay at the back of Chaa’s house, where the wattle roof to the Spirit Room hung close to the ground like the mouth of a cave, yet they would not approach the opening, as if they feared that something else still inhabited the room.
Tull stood, panting, and when the crowd grew thick, he told some younger Pwi, “I know where Garamon is hiding. Who will come with me?”
Fava’s mouth fell open in wonder. My husband took a Spirit Walk? No one tried to do that alone. She felt surprised that he had survived.
Several boys shifted nervously then stepped forward. Tull took six Pwi boys into town, and Fava followed at a safe distance. They went behind the mayor’s old cloth shop, and Tull knelt beside a stump on the ground.
He pulled up on it, swinging it up, to reveal a small room—a cubbyhole.
Mayor Garamon Goodman lay asleep inside, huddling in the cold, a loaded pistol in his hand. His skin looked pale and sickly, his clothing grimy and ragged.
Tull grabbed the pistol before the mayor could awake, ripped it away, and then jerked the major from his sleep, lifting him with both hands and yanking him into the air.
The mayor came awake then and screamed like a girl.
Some boys set to beating the mayor mercilessly, but Tull ordered, “Leave him alone. Let’s take him to Phylomon for questioning. We don’t want just one slaver, he wanted to clean out the whole nest of them!”
Yet Fava worried that it would do no good. If the mayor kept his mouth shut, it would be impossible to find his cohorts.
So she followed the triumphant hunters to the inn. The mayor tried to walk, but every few steps the young men would kick his legs out from behind him, so that he fell to the ground. If he lay there too long, they’d kick him again until he crawled to his feet.
When they reached the end, Fava hung in the doorway outside the Starfarer’s room. He seemed pleased to see Garamon again.
He said quite simply, “So, we are going to talk about your accomplices. When you give me their names, the pain will stop, but not before.”
The Starfarer had learned many tortures in his thousand years, and he asked Tull to go to the blacksmith’s shop and get some tongs, and knives, and pokers and various other tools. Then he had another boy go down to the cooking hearth at the inn and bring up a bucket of hot coals.
When everything was ready, he set to work.
Fava fled the inn, went outside to wait. There are some things that a woman should not see, that no person should ever witness.
She feared that the mayor would remain silent, that he would not be able to root out the slavers. She sat in the sun, and could not ignore the mayor’s screams from the room at the top of the inn.
Within an hour, several young Pwi raced out of the room, gathered Pwi from the crowd that had formed, and said excitedly, “Come with me!”
They raced through town in clubs, a gang of Neanderthals armed with clubs and swords.
Tull came walking down to the front of the inn, his face pale. There was a kwea of sadness about him, a weariness, that she had never seen before.
“He gave us the names?” she asked. “So soon?”
Tull nodded. “He did not want it to last long. I think in the end, he was already exhausted from hiding, from going hungry. He only wanted the pain to come to an end.”
She listened, and realized that the screaming in the inn had stopped. She could not even hear the mayor sobbing.
“Then, he’s dead?” Fava asked.
Tull just nodded.
From the inn here on the hill, she could see nearly every house in town. She watched the Pwi march through town, stop at certain houses, and break through the doors.
Within moments they brought the slavers out into the streets, both the men and their families, and then opened the homes for looting.
When the slavers had been rounded up, Phylomon came down from the inn, walking with cool precision, a longsword in hand.
He went to each man, to each little family, spoke a few words. Then he beheaded each man’s wife and children, in front of him, and then executed the slaver and left the bodies lying there to bleed out on the cobblestones along Merchant Street.
It was horrible to see, and yet, Fava realized that it was just. The men had taken children from their families, terrorized the Pwi for years. She suspected that they had been complicit in numerous murders.
Killing just the slavers was not enough. Phylomon was sending a message to them: You will lose everything.
Fava found that retribution left a terrible taste in her mouth.
Even Tull stood shaking, and before the executions were completed, Fava helped him home to his bedroom, then set a fire in order to get rid of a chill that had descended over them both.
For a long time Tull lay across the room from the fire, gazing into the flames. Outside, the day seemed quiet. No sparrows peeped among the rhododendrons outside the cabin. No squirrels barked. The only sound seemed to be the sigh of wind in the trees, and the sound of waves against the shore outside.
“I hear a serpent’s voice,” Tull said dreamily after a time. “A big one, he swimming over from Hotland. He’s very sick. And tired.”
That surprised Fava. Tull did not talk of the slavers, of the horror of the day, only of the serpent.
“Are you sure?” Fava asked, realizing that whatever he’d witnessed, Tull did not want to talk about it.
“Yes,” Tull said. “Can you hear him? Listen …”
Fava listened for several moments. A gust of wind buffeted the house, and waves whispered down in the bay. Other than that, nothing. “I’ll be back soon,” she said. “I need to go get Wayan. Will you be all right alone?” She worried that the “Beast” would return, or that Tull would not be able to hold in the horrors of what he’d witnessed with the mayor.
“I’ll be … just let me be alone,” Tull answered.
Fava went out, walked down the darkening trail to her parents’ house. Three dozen Pwi stood outside it. Fava walked back down the long hallway toward her father’s Spirit Room, thinking to spea
k to her father some more, ask questions.
She heard Phylomon talking loudly, and Fava stopped to listen, peeked around the corner.
Phylomon asked “Where is Tull now?”
Chaa said, “He went home, to rest, and to think. We all must think. I must consider carefully what to do.” He fell silent a moment, and then said softly. “I do not know if I should keep him as a pupil any longer.”
Phylomon grabbed her father’s shoulders, turned the Spirit Walker around, so that he peered into Chaa’s face, and asked, “Tull is more than just a Spirit Walker, isn’t he? He’s a Talent Warrior.”
Chaa nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “A very powerful one.”
“A warrior like Terrazin?” The Starfarer’s voice betrayed genuine fear, as if it were an accusation. His tone confused Fava. She knew the names of some ancient Talent Warriors—Thunatra Dream Woman, who battled men in their dreams; Kwitcha the healer, who raised men from the dead; Uth, who had called poisonous snakes from their holes to protect him. But Fava had never heard of Terrazin.
“Much like the Dragontamer,” Chaa said. “Perhaps too much. I thought I could control him, bend him to my will. But tonight the Beast beheld Tull, and it approved of him!”
For a moment Phylomon held silent, then ventured, “For these past months, I’ve trusted your judgment. You said that Tull could destroy the Slave Lords, even though it may cost my life. What are you thinking now?”
“Last spring,” Chaa said, “when I took my Spirit Walk, I viewed a possible future. I saw Tull return with the eggs of the sea serpents from Craal, and everything has happened nearly as I foresaw—until today. Tull tried to look into the spirit world contrary to my orders, something I had not foreseen. He did more than he should have. He tried to take a short Spirit Walk. And he attracted the Beast. Until today, Tull was convinced that Adjonai was but an illusion. Now, they have met. I had not foreseen that Adjonai would approve of him. I had hoped that Tull would go to Bashevgo, throw it down, and reign as king. I had seen a future where Craal toppled within a few years. Now, I wonder.…”
Phylomon laughed with a note of worry in his voice. “Sometimes it rains even on Spirit Walkers. You were able to see six months into the future—that is better than many Spirit Walkers could do. If you have misjudged, now we must ask, what harm have you done?” He tried to sound calm, casual, but fear still carried in his voice.
“Who knows?” Chaa said. “Everything has changed. Perhaps nothing will happen as I saw it—your death, Tull’s reign. Now Tull’s spirit eyes are opening. If nothing else, I’ve wakened him. That makes him very dangerous. Terrazin woke to his power when he first stared into the pit of death, as you well know. It may be foolhardy to try to kill Tull now.”
“It could be foolhardy to wait,” Phylomon said. “If Tull wakens to his power, we may not be able to kill him.”
Chaa stood, looking down at the barren ground, where furs had been this morning, as if lost in vision. “Tull is not awake to his power. He is only trying to learn the art of Spirit Walking. He has not even guessed his potential.”
Phylomon shook his head in confusion, crossed his long blue arms and stood, head leaned back, eyes closed in concentration. “You think that Tull may be the Okansharai. Yet have you considered the prophecies of Pwichutwi? He said the Okansharai would be born to the mother of Evil. I would say that if you look for someone to free the Pwi, then look for him in the city of Bashevgo.”
“I know the prophecy,” Chaa sighed, “and I have no faith in it. I can see six months into the future, perhaps a year or two. My great grandfather—one of the best—could look only four years into the future. I do not believe Pwichutwi could have seen five hundred years. He only dreamed. Still, I hope for an Okansharai. The very fact that people dream that one may someday come, only increases the odds that someone will try to step into the role. I’d hoped that Tull would be the one.”
Phylomon still stood with his head leaning back, eyes closed. “What if Tull disobeys you again? What if he tries to continue practicing as a Spirit Walker?”
Chaa took a breath, voice ragged. “If he succeeded in taking a long Spirit Walk, he would see into his own future, discover his own potential. I have not given Tull enough training to do that. He has not made any allies in the Land of Shapes. I think that path would be closed to him.”
“Terrazin trained himself to Spirit Walk,” Phylomon said. “If he could do it, then perhaps Tull can do it. But you have allies in the Land of Shapes,” Phylomon hinted dangerously. “You could warn them, make sure Tull does not learn how to Spirit Walk.”
“You are asking me to murder Tull because you do not want his blood on your own hands,” Chaa said. “But he is still just an innocent. He has not committed any crime yet.”
“Do you have any doubts that he will?” Phylomon asked. “If Tull learns how to kill a man with a thought, how long will the armies of Craal last?”
“For less than the length of a heartbeat,” Chaa answered. “Tull would wipe them out, down to the last man.” He hesitated. “And he would kill you, if he suspected that you would try to stop him. Still, he is not Terrazin. He has not been so corrupted.”
“Are you so sure? Adjonai touched Tull’s mind, and then let him live! The Beast approved of him.…”
Fava shuddered. Even now as Phylomon spoke the name of the dark god, Fava could feel Adjonai’s evil kwea, as if he were listening, drawing close to hear what others said of him.
“Then there is only one thing to do,” Chaa said. “Now I must take another Spirit Walk. My last.”
“Your Last?”
“I must walk the future of the Slave Lords,” Chaa said. “They play too important a part in the affairs of men for me to ignore them in such a matter. And the Creators are making weapons—the gray worms, perhaps others. I have never hinted at this before, but I may be able to connect with them and learn what the Creators plan for us. But this thing is forbidden. If I look into the minds of those evil things, my allies in the Land of Shapes will renounce me. I won’t be able to go back—ever.”
“And if you erred in waking Tull?”
Chaa said bitterly, “Then we must dispose of him in his sleep, before it is too late.”
“I’m going to have to leave for Sanctum in the morning,” Phylomon said. “I have business there that can no longer wait. I won’t be able to return for a few weeks. If you learn that Tull needs to die, I expect you to take care of it.”
“Ayaah,” Chaa said reluctantly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Fava turned and fled blindly down the hall.
***
Chapter 17: A Serpent in the Bay
The following day, Tull went to see Phylomon off at dawn. The blue man was preparing to leave Smilodon Bay without fanfare.
Phylomon seemed preoccupied. He spoke to Tull, wished him well, but there was no warmth in the man’s eyes, only probing looks in order to assuage his distrust.
He’s weighing me, Tull thought, just as Chaa is weighing me, trying to decide whether I am worthy of their time, of their training.
That was a question that even Tull had no answers to. He couldn’t be sure of his own future. If Adjonai spared me, if the Dark God of Terror approves of me, then what did he see in me?
The question weighed upon Tull, so that he did not even trust himself any longer.
He bade the Starfarer well, bid him goodbye with few words.
Tull spent the morning playing with Wayan. He envied the child, so innocent and easy to please. Tull gave Wayan pig-a-back rides around the floor, then threw him down and tickled him, then taught him how to count to five. Tull put the boy down for an afternoon nap, and after a while Tull looked into the back room. Wayan was lying in bed the covers pulled tight against his chin, obviously frightened.
“What are you afraid of?” Fava asked.
“Bad dreams,” Wayan answered.
“Then you’re in luck,” Tull said. “When I built this house, I made sure that no bad
dreams could get in.”
“I know,” Wayan said. “The ghosts keep scaring them all away.” Tull laughed, and lay down beside Wayan.
When the boy finally fell asleep, Tull went to his workbench in the back room and, using tools he’d stolen from Craal, took apart a small golden watch shaped like a daisy, then reassembled it for perhaps the seventh time.
It seemed to him that his studies were bearing fruit. He not only knew how to put it together and take it apart, but he had considered every single gear and spring, and this time he felt that he understood the device. He knew how it worked, what it could and could not do.
But he could not say the same about himself.
Tull kept getting up, walking around. He went and found Fava in the kitchen, washing some dishes. He spoke to her of planting a larger garden, digging up the soil outside, and of other inconsequential things.
“The worm of fear gnaws you,” Fava said. “That is why you cannot stop moving.”
“I suppose,” Tull admitted, and he leaned close to Fava, then took her hand.
She knew something of what he had summoned from the Land of Shapes. “My father does not trust you,” she said at last. “Phylomon doesn’t trust you, either. They think that you are a danger. If you think we should,” she suggested, “we can sail to Hotland.”
“No,” Tull said. “We can’t hide in Hotland. It’s not a place to raise a child like Wayan, or for you to bear your own children. The Creators would come there someday. And even if they didn’t find us, if we stay away for any length of time, what would we hope to come back to?
“I’ve told you what is about to happen,” Tull said forcefully. “Once the Creators begin to cleanse the land, who knows what ill happen. We can’t let it happen. Think of the Thralls in Craal: millions of innocent children will die. It is bad enough that they are slaves! We can’t let them die in horror simply because we are afraid to act. Don’t you see? I must fight—whether your father wants me to or not, whether Phylomon fears me or not!”
Fava watched his face. She could see anger in his eyes in the way his nose flared in fear, as if he were a trapped bobcat. “I was not thinking about the Creators—or the slavers. I was thinking about this other thing. Oh, why can’t you have simple problems—like bears pawing through your garbage, or a leaky roof?”
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