by Craig Spence
“Why do you say this now!” Charlie demanded, worried at Josh’s tone.
“Because I have not finished speaking yet, and what remains to be said will certainly cause some . . . er . . . discussion.”
“What are you going to say,” Charlie yelled over the din.
Without answering Josh turned back to the assembly and raised his arms. A hush fell over the celebration. “Comrades!” he shouted, “for now I can call you that.” A cheer went up again, interrupting him. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. But now I have a proposal to make, which will further test your trust.”
Silence descended upon the assembly once more, the rebels looking from one to another as if someone in the crowd might be able to interpret this new turn of events and foretell what Josh would say.
“I am the newest member of your ranks, so I cannot issue advice, let alone commands. I wouldn’t dare. But I am also a free man, allowed to do what I will so long as I do not betray your trust. I have been taught from The Book of Syde and explored the Emerald Palace. I have talked at length to Vortigen and his highest counsellors. I know their strengths . . . and their one great weakness.”
He waited until they had assessed his words and silence prevailed then continued. “There is a chance — but only a chance, I must warn you — that if we show courage this day, if we seize the moment, we may win our freedom. To do this, we must take a bold stroke. We must march on the Emerald Palace . . . ”
Voices rang out in the amphitheater again. Angry voices, denouncing him. “You’re crazy!” they said. “Are you trying to get us slaughtered?”
“Silence!” Charlie boomed. “Hear him out.”
“There is a passage in The Book which you should all know about. It is called the Song of Emancipation. If you take my advice and march on Ormor, you must learn every note and every word of this song. You must know it in your hearts as well as your minds, and learn to sing it in the true spirit of supplicants — that is with conviction and humility. If you do that, your right to freedom can prevail . . . ”
“Sing?” several voices cried out in disbelief.
“The Ancient Law states that Vortigen must give audience to anyone who sings the Song of Emancipation, and he must listen for as long as they wish to sing. He does not have to grant what they ask — freedom to leave Syde — but he cannot banish them for their impudence or molest them in any way until the last note of their singing has ceased.”
“What good will that do us if he doesn’t have to grant our demands?” somebody shouted.
“The song is hateful to Vortigen. He cannot bear the sound of it. It is on account of this song that he has banished music in any form from Syde.”
“Then he will punish us all the more savagely when we stop singing.”
“Why would we stop singing?” Josh asked.
The rebels looked from one to the other, puzzled, not quite comprehending what they had just heard.
“Alone, I could sing the song for perhaps a day or two before I succumbed to exhaustion, and that is what I will do if no one else joins me. Then I will be at the Tyrant’s mercy. Vortigen knows this, as does everyone else who has ever considered appealing his stern rule by this means. So the song is never sung. But an army of freedom fighters could sing indefinitely, could they not?” Josh continued slyly. “They could forge themselves into a mighty choir, that could sing the Song of Emancipation for days and days, or until the tyrant submitted by granting their wish. They could lay siege to Ormor with the power of their voices.”
Stunned by this suggestion, the assembly stood silent. All eyes turned on Charlie, who remained deep in thought. Finally, he stepped up to the podium beside Josh. “The rebellion started with me,” he began, “and as your leader I have never let you down, have I?”
His supporters answered with silence.
“For almost a century now, we have fought for our freedom,” he continued, “and that makes us free in spirit, even though we are imprisoned in this place. We willingly suffer the consequences of war. We are hunted, cast in dungeons, tortured, and banished to Desolation Isle — all because we refuse to submit to the tyrant’s rule. But what have we accomplished with all our efforts? Are we a single step closer to the portal that will take us away from here?”
He paused, glancing at every face. “You all know the answer to that question. Warfare has not won us an inch of ground. The danger is, comrades, that warfare has become a way of life for us. All our energy has been devoted to plotting against Vortigen and his soldiers. We earn grim satisfaction from our occasional victories, but that is all. We celebrate the hollow victory of having bested an enemy, but not the true victory of having advanced our cause.
“On this day, I think the possibility of real freedom is within our grasp. Don’t ask me why, but I believe in this boy whom Vortigen has proclaimed heir. He may well prove to be the tyrant’s downfall. I, for one, am eager for open combat and for the war to be decided one way or the other. I would rather take a chance on something new than continue fighting eternally without hope. I grow weary with plotting, and ambushing, and running. I long for peace. You have heard him and each of you can make up your own mind, but I am going to cast my vote in his favour.
“Comrades!” Charlie shouted in conclusion, looking to Josh. “We are at a historic moment — a moment of truth. This boy is our friend — that much is clear. He has volunteered to go to the Emerald Palace alone, to sue for freedom on our behalf. I, for one, will not let him face that fate alone. I say we hear this song. If it seems to be a thing of magic, then let us learn it and march on the Emerald Palace.”
A murmur of protest rippled through the assembly, mixed with some grunts of assent.
“This is not the type of uprising I had planned. The day will not be won by the clash of arms and the spilling of blood, but by an assault of prayer and music. I am going to take that risk, and if I am defeated, at least it will be a glorious defeat. Those who are with me, come; those who are opposed, stay, but the time for debate is over. Even if I have to march alone with the boy, I will go and sing at the palace gate for though I have known him but an hour, I am in awe of this boy. He is the one Vortigen thought him to be, but not at all what Vortigen expected.”
“You will not be alone, my friend,” Quiggle vowed. “I will be with you.”
“And me!” a voice piped up. It was the woman who had spoken up for Josh earlier.
“And me!” another cried. It was the white-haired gentleman Ian had approached the day he and Millie entered the Habitations.
“And me!” “And me!” “And me!” others volunteered, until very few were left, who had not cast their fate into the balance.
“Let us go!” Charlie ordered. “To The Circuit and through The Habitations, even though that is the longer way. Let us be heard throughout the land, so that any who wish to join us can. And Josh, you teach us to sing as we go.”
“Hurrah!” the rebel army cheered, surging out of Traitor’s Grove.
67
THE SONG OF EMANCIPATION
I dream of my homeland above the hard ground,
for whither my heart does roam.
Through forest and meadow and bustling town,
the places that I’ve always known.
And the light is green or blazing with flowers,
and it shines on the faces I love.
It glitters on spires and glistening towers
as it beams on the world far above.
There’s a breeze a blowin’ above the hard ground.
Hear it sighing in field and tree.
The grass, it bends, and the flowers, they bow,
and a thousand tongues whisper to me.
They’re calling me home to my native land,
to the music of windrow and stream.
They sing in a language my soul understands —
it’s the song of an exile’s dreams.
So set me free! Let my spirit go!
For I long to be light an
d air.
To brighten the faces of them that I know
and tousle my true love’s hair.
Oh, set me free! Let my spirit soar!
For my name’s called in crevice and cave.
Loosen these chains, and open that door,
let me fly from this stony grave.
The rebels marched in a mass down the High Road, and with every step they sang a deeper more resonant version of the song they believed would set them free. Charlie, Josh and Quiggle took up the lead, followed by the assembly. Soon their ranks grew. As they wound through the Gallian Forest woodcutters stumbled out of the bush, adding their voices; then farm folk trudged off their pastures and fields in Tilth; as they entered the outskirts of The Habitations, the column numbered in the thousands and people poured out of their homes to join in the Song of Emancipation.
“I don’t believe it,” Charlie exulted. “How can they know what we are up to? Why would they add their voices to the chorus, when they hear what we are singing and the direction we are headed? Surely they fear Vortigen and his rage.”
“For years you have been preparing the way, Charlie. All these people have been sustained in their yearning for freedom by you and your brave rebels — they were ready to hear the freedom song and join the van the moment this sweet music reached their ears.”
“What about Vortigen’s army?” Quiggle asked nervously. “Why haven’t they intervened?”
“There is nothing they can do to stop us. Vortigen himself cannot gainsay the Ancient Law. He is the Ancient Law and must uphold it to the letter. He may not even be aware of the nature of the uprising yet.”
“Then why would he withhold his troops?”
“Because of me,” Josh said simply. “He will want to parlay first to see if he can win me over to his side. He has waited for his heir for thousands of years; he will not commit troops against me until he has tried every conceivable trick to gain my loyalty back.”
“Can he have any tricks left?” Charlie asked angrily.
“We have not even begun to fathom the power ofVortigen,” Josh warned. “But his tactics can be thwarted by devout hearts, confirmed in love.”
“And when his emissaries come, what will you do?”
“I will go with them,” Josh said firmly.
“Not if I can prevent it!” Charlie said, gripping his sword.
“There will be no blood letting over this,” Josh shot back. “I must offer him every opportunity to understand. I have to try to persuade him to let us go freely.”
“But that will be suicide!” the rebel argued. “You cannot do it.”
“I think you might want to listen to reason, Your Most Obstinate Highness,” Quiggle advised. “I don’t think it at all wise to step back into Vortigen’s lair.”
They walked on in silence, striding now between the tall buildings that lined the main plaza of the Habitations — the very spot where Josh had encountered Millie and Ian in the Carriage of State. Suddenly their was a clatter of horse’s hooves at the far end of the square and a squadron ofVortigen’s guards galloped to the head of the column, pulling up just short of Josh and the others.
“Lord Vortigen demands to know the cause of this disturbance in his realm!” the captain snarled. “Who represents you?”
“I do,” Josh piped up.
“No, it is I,” Charlie countered.
“Lord Vortigen will speak to your representative in due course, but first he demands the attendance of Prince
Dempster at the Emerald Palace. Will you come willingly, Sire, or do we need to use force to bring you to him?”
“I will come willingly,” Josh answered.
“No!” Charlie yelled, stepping between Josh and the guards.
“Yes, Charlie!” Josh roared in a voice that echoed up and down the street, a voice charged with power.
Shocked, Charlie stared at him, then bowed, stepping aside.
“Soldier,” the captain growled to one of his minions, “dismount and offer the Crown Prince your horse.
“Yes sir,” the soldier obeyed, giving Josh the reins.
“Are you ready, sir?” the captain asked.
Josh nodded, and his horse bucked forward as the column clattered toward the far end of the plaza, heading for the steep road up to Ormor. “Farewell Josh,” Charlie called after him. “We shall join you soon.”
“Goodbye my most Sublime Sire,” Quiggle added.
68
“Well, well,” Vortigen mocked from his throne in the war room. He looked bored and dangerous. “The prodigal prince returns. I hear you have been consorting with my enemies. I hope we will be able to dissuade you from such lunatic actions and that in future we will be able to count you as a friend.”
“You cannot,” Josh answered curtly. “I oppose you Vortigen. I renounce you and your dominion.”
The Lord of Syde put on an astounded look, then smiled indulgently. “Why so fickle, My Lord? You have set your two friends free. I will not pursue them. I did not realize the strength of your affections — an oversight on my part for which I am prepared to apologize.”
“You cannot understand the power of love, Vortigen. Yours is a nation built on might and hatred. An apology from you could never be anything other than a shift of strategy — a fallback position.”
“Ouch!” Vortigen teased. “If your words were daggers, I should be pinned to the wall, I’m sure. But they are only words, and contrary to the silly sayings current in Outworld, words can be taken back.”
“I won’t take them back.”
A flame flickered in Vortigen’s eyes. He licked his lips then said, “Perhaps I shall have to make you, as any father would correct a willful child.”
“I am not a child, and certainly not your child, Vortigen!”
The demon winced. “Do not push beyond the point of all endurance, boy!” he glowered, causing his retainers to cringe. “You may think the weakling emotion I have allowed inside my breast for your sake gives you power over me, but I warn you, desist. I will rip my heart out and throw it away before I let it become captive to your treachery.”
Josh stood firm, but refrained from saying any more. He wanted to shout at Vortigen, call him a vile and evil monster to his face. Instead, he swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “I have wounded him,” he thought, sadly. “Anger is to be expected.”
“There,” Vortigen was saying. “We understand each other now.”
He paused to study Josh, then added, “I do not want to be angry with you. I want you to be happy here. Syde is your home. So let’s put aside our petty differences and begin preparations for your coronation. You will share all of this with me, Josh Dempster,” he gestured round the room. “All of this and more. No one in Syde’s history has ever been made such an offer. No one has been worthy of the double throne. Look!”
Vortigen inclined his head toward the Seer’s Pool. The image that appeared there now was not Syde, but a magnificent, ancient city. Gardens spilled over the terraced walls of a gigantic ziggurat; waterfalls splashed and tumbled from tiled pools; nobles strolled the broad patios, talking and laughing — at ease in their realm of luxury.
“Babylon,” Vortigen said. “In your history the place is considered ancient. In truth it was a fairly recent civilization and of only middling size compared to others that existed, even in its day. We can visit them if you like.”
The scene faded, Babylon sinking into the depths of the pool. In its place a colossal spaceship loomed — a vessel as big as a planet. Josh gasped, astounded at the size of the thing. “Your species cannot even imagine the wonders that have been achieved elsewhere in the galaxies,” Vortigen said.
“Do you suppose feats such as this are accomplished without sacrifice?” he observed. “Do you seriously believe that a society of equals — where every person must be accorded the same dignity as every other — could build even the simplest of machines, let alone this glory? Don’t be a fool, boy! It’s not possible.”
F
easts, celebrations and wonders of all kinds emerged from the incandescent waters. Josh tried to look away but couldn’t. He craved what was to come — did not want the parade of marvels to ever end. He felt his resolve weaken. The light in which these images were cast had a corrosive effect upon him. He was drifting into a trance.
“No!” Josh mumbled. “No!”
But he could not break free. He had become a passive receiver of the translucent imagery Vortigen called up in the Seer’s Pool, “Puddifant!” Josh moaned into the numbed circuitry of his brain. “Millie! Ian! Mother! Father!”
At first these names sank without effect into the pool’s depths. They did not disturb the smooth surface of Vortigen’s lies. But Josh repeated them, holding fast to the empty sounds even as he searched for their significance through the befuddled regions of his soul — searched until he saw first the shadow of their meaning, then the substance. Suddenly, Vortigen’s spell broke. To Josh it felt as if the very molecules of his being had snapped back into their proper alignment. He was not the old Josh, to be sure, but he was no longer thrall to Vortigen’s dreams. Vortigen’s worlds sank into the depths of the Seer’s Pool. In their place, Millie’s face appeared — radiant and alive with intelligence.
“Be gone!” Vortigen commanded.
But Millie was joined next by Puddifant, his dark lambent eyes peering out of the water.
“No!” Vortigen howled.
“Yes!” Josh insisted.
Ian, Mrs. Dempster, Mr. Dempster, Tenth Avenue — the people and places of Josh’s world crowded the Seer’s Pool. Enraged, Vortigen reared up from his throne, drew his sword, and struck at the water. But the stroke did not cause so much as a ripple in Josh’s vision. Again Vortigen slashed at the water, again it healed itself instantly. Vortigen could not obliterate the truth.
“Out!” he bellowed. “Everybody out!”
“But Sire, should we leave you alone with this boy?” one of his captains said.
“Will no one listen to a simple order anymore?” Vortigen raved. “Or must I teach you all again what it is to provoke my fury?”
