His off hand, the arm jagged with barbs, rested on Osgan’s shoulder. I shall give you more, at least, than these your kin. There was a moment of understanding, dying man to dead one, and the spectral blade speared down just once, precise and final.
Sulvec saw something seep out of Osgan’s tortured frame, saw the racked and twisted man relax at last, muscle by muscle. The long release of breath he heard was without pain, was at peace. It was Osgan’s last. He swayed and pitched on to his side, and Sulvec knew for sure he was dead.
The Mantis looked up and his eyes, one lit and one shrouded in shadow, found Sulvec.
‘Now,’ he said, as the lamps went out.
Che sagged back into Thalric’s arms, mind still full of the swollen river, even though the images had now left her. Looking up at the assembled Masters, she saw not one of them was looking at her. They did not even mean to show me, she thought numbly. I just got carried along, when they looked. What have I seen? I cannot take it in.
‘What?’ Thalric was demanding. ‘They haven’t done anything. What’s happening, Che? What’s wrong?’
She stepped away from him, feeling a tug of resistance and then release. ‘Do not ask me,’ she said. ‘I cannot say. I don’t have words for what I’ve seen. Oh, Thalric, I can’t hope to make you understand.’
There was a great sigh from the Masters, and she knew that they had finished. A great burden of sorrow was upon them, their faces disfigured by the dregs of effort. Some simply walked away. Many lingered as though, having awoken, they were unsure what it had been for. Only one was missing: armoured Garmoth Atennar had absented himself, perhaps to take his huge sword to the Scorpions in person.
‘Such waste of our resources,’ said Jeherian bitterly. ‘We should be angry with our servants for putting us to this, but I cannot find the will to care.’
‘But what happened?’ Che asked them. ‘How did you do it? Such a ritual, brought to bear so swiftly!’ Words of Achaeos recurred to her. ‘I know the Moths would never have attempted it.’
‘No,’ replied Elysiath, ‘but they, like most kinden, are brief and impatient. What you saw was not the making of a ritual, but the breaking of one. It is very simple.’
‘Not to me, it’s not,’ Che insisted. ‘Please, you must tell me what you did.’
Elysiath sighed, her shoulders slumping as though the very act of having to explain herself to Che required more effort than she could countenance. ‘Little child,’ she said, ‘we have told you.’
‘Yet it is important she understands,’ Jeherian put in, surprising Che. ‘We have told you how, when we foresaw the changes these lands would suffer, we came to the decision to absent ourselves from the harsh surface above, and to work our great ritual from these our halls. Our ritual is for the restoration of the land, the balance that was broken by that great earthquake and cataclysm so long ago. For nine hundred years we have maintained it, and so we shall for millennia to come, if need be, however long our work may take. For we foresaw that the only way to break the drought was to hurry it to its ultimate ends, spur it on to its worst excesses. Of a dry land we have made a desert, watered only by the deep wells, and by the faithful Jamail.’
‘You made the desert?’ Che asked, astonished.
‘By our will it has not rained in these lands for centuries past. It rains over the Forest Alim, where the clouds break on the mountains, and thus the Jamail does not run dry, but from over our city and dominion, we take the rain and hide it from the world, for year after year.’
‘That’s monstrous,’ Che protested in a small voice. She could not conceive of it.
‘Who may presume to judge our actions? We who live longer, see further. Without us, the land would dry and dry, over the ages. Instead we have brought that drought before its time, and hold it while the rain gathers, forcing it to burn too bright, to consume itself in its own heat. We have broken our ritual just to save our idiot servants. We have set ourselves back two hundred and seventy-five years of rain.’
Che could not speak. The man smiled, arrogant beyond the dreams of emperors.
‘When we shall unleash that hoarded rain, when we have finally gathered sufficient of it, we shall transform the entire world. We shall strike a blow whereby we shall reverse the cataclysm. The land shall be green again, and we shall rule it directly once more.’
His words washed over her, and she swayed under their impact. They were madness and yet, revealed to her by the Masters of Khanaphes, she knew that they must be the truth. Here was a magic a thousand years in the making, and accumulating still, and of such power that the Moth-kinden themselves could not have dreamt of it.
‘The rain has washed the Scorpions away?’ Thalric’s voice broke in on them, an outsider intruding. ‘I understand nothing of this.’ The Masters’ expressions clearly told him: Of course you don’t.’ Tell me one thing,’ he went on, and they looked at him without interest as he asked, ‘What will you and your people do when the Empire gets here?’
‘Your Empire does not interest us,’ said Lirielle. ‘Mere children and their toys.’
‘But you seem to have realized now what those toys can do,’ Thalric insisted. ‘A pack of barbarians with a little artillery has nearly destroyed your city. The Empire—’
‘We can see your Empire in your mind,’ Elysiath silenced him at once, ‘like a child’s chalk drawing of power. They will come, you assume, and seek to command Khanaphes, to make it part of your dominion.’ She stretched expansively. ‘It would be tiresome to have to destroy your Empire, and distracting. I imagine, therefore, that we will allow you to bring your governors and your soldiers, and thus pretend that Khanaphes is yours.’ She smiled at that, at last a real expression, sharp-edged and aimed directly at him. ‘But how long do you believe your Empire will last?’
He stared at her blankly and she continued, ‘I am nine times older than your Empire, O savage, and I shall still be young when your kinden have become the playthings of some other children. Your Empire will decay and die in due course. Only we are eternal.’
Thalric opened his mouth, but no words came out.
‘But enough of such trifles,’ Elysiath said. ‘Let us instead talk of you.’ She was looking at Che. In fact they were all looking at her.
‘Me?’ Che stared.
‘You who have answered our summons,’ the woman said. ‘You who have been gifted, by chance, with such an open power. You have been separated from the tawdry heritage of your own people. You have been made special.’
‘I …’
‘Why did you come here, really?’ Elysiath asked her.
‘I was sent …’ She stuttered into silence, feeling the lie burn on her tongue. ‘I was not happy in Collegium. I wanted to discover what has happened to me.’
‘And so you heard our call,’ the Master told her. ‘And you followed your destiny all the way to Khanaphes.’
‘But what do you want? Why would you call me?’
‘You can see how remiss our servants have been here, and yet you ask that?’ Elysiath smiled. ‘The old blood that rules our city has grown thin and weak. We should have anticipated that. They hear our commands but faintly. They are only a shadow of their ancestors. We would appoint you as our priestess, instruct you in the ways of our power. We would set you above our other servants, as one who can hear us clearly, and is therefore most dear to us.’ The expression she turned on Che was almost maternal. ‘You shall become First Minister of our city.’
‘Che …’ she heard Thalric’s warning tone, but she shrugged him off.
‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why would I?’ She expected them to recoil from the insolence of the question, to inform her that serving them was reward enough in itself. She was ready for that.
‘Because you are a true scholar,’ said Elysiath, ‘one who seeks knowledge always. And nowhere will you find such understanding as we have, we who have lived out, in person, the ages that are your kind’s ancient history. We can give you knowledge that even the M
oths have forgotten, and that, even if they possessed it, they would not share. We can tell you the names of all the kinden in the world. We can reveal to you why it is that the Mantids of the Lowlands hate the Spiders so, though even they have let themselves forget it. We can teach you where the Art came from, and how to truly master it.’ Her fond look deepened. ‘But more than that, little child, where else have you to go? You are in a world that has no place for you, save here. You are no longer one of your people, no longer a creature of your home. You are adrift in a land that cannot understand you. You cannot even understand yourself. We shall explain everything. We shall give you a place here. You shall be honoured, become the messenger of the Masters to their servants.’
Che tried to refuse them, but the words came reluctantly to her mind and she could not force them out. It was their sympathy that struck her to the heart, the understanding that they had promised. They knew what she had gone through, and she felt tears in her eyes. Where else but here would she ever find real acceptance? Better a servant of the Masters than a lonely outcast forever moving on.
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice choking.
Elysiath’s approval warmed her. ‘You know what you must do,’ she said, ‘to be ours, and to enter into our grace.’ At her side Jeherian held out something small, and Che stepped forward, reached up and took it. In her hand rested a curved blade of sharpened copper: a razor.
Kneeling down, she took a fistful of her hair, bringing the razor up to it. Of course she knew what she must do, what the Khanaphir had done since time immemorial in order to demonstrate their servitude.
‘Che!’ Thalric spoke urgently. ‘Don’t do this.’ She could sense the attention of the Masters focused on her like a pressure guiding her hand. The blade, keener than copper should rightly be, severed the first few strands.
‘Che, you heard them,’ Thalric persisted. ‘They don’t care about you. They don’t care about anyone in Khanaphes, or anyone in the world. Listen to me, Che, this is insane. You can’t want to stay down here in the slime and the dark.’
She just gazed at him, and already felt him as a memory, receding into her past. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not sure who she was sorry for, or why.
‘They killed your man Kadro, and that woman his assistant,’ Thalric went on. He was fighting to get out the words as though the air itself was smothering him. ‘And they don’t care. People like us, the Apt kinden, we’re just beasts to them, nothing but insects.’
‘I know,’ she replied sadly, ‘but what are we, if not that?’ She moved the razor more decisively, severing a handful of her locks, took hold of some more.
‘Che, I like your hair. Don’t cut it off,’ Thalric implored her.
She looked for him again, finding that he was hard to focus on. Even his name seemed strange in her mind.
‘Che, please,’ he went on, ‘listen to me. You know that I care for you. Ever since we first met, there was something about you.’ He laughed desperately. ‘I’ll admit we got off to a poor start, but you can’t say I don’t have some claim on you. Please, Che, stay with me.’
She shook her head, astonished by his temerity. ‘With you?’ she said incredulously, the memories drawn back to the surface of her mind whether she wanted them or not. ‘Thalric, when the Masters tested me, do you know what they made me live through? What they chose as the most terrible memory I must relive? It was the interrogation room in Myna. That was the worst moment in my life, and they made me watch you torturing me, over and over.’
‘What do you think,’ he replied through gritted teeth, ‘they made me see?’
‘…What?’ She felt as though something deep within her had exploded, yet so far away that she had only heard the hollow knock of it, that the main force of it was still travelling towards her.
‘What do you think was the moment in my life they took me back to, if not that? The one moment of them all that I would take back if I could. Not your bastard sister and her father destroying me in Helleron. Not killing my own mentor for some Rekef General’s whim. Not my own kind turning on me outside Collegium. Not that bitch Felise Mienn with her blade held at my throat, or being strung up in Armour Square, ready for execution. Not my pain at all, but yours. They used their Art, or whatever, to make me hurt you, in my head, and I could not endure it. It would have destroyed me if you had not broken their hold.’
The breath whooshed out of her, and she felt the razor slip from her hand. It left a shallow cut on her thigh as it bounced from her leg, and then clacked onto the oily floor.
‘Help me,’ she whispered, and Thalric took her hand, pulled her up towards him and held her tightly. She sensed Accius moving forward, until he stood beside Thalric, and belatedly she realized that this was because the Masters were now frowning at them.
She hugged Thalric briefly and then turned to them, and their glowering expressions. The awesome disappointment and disapproval she saw there nearly dried up the words in her mouth. She finally got out, ‘I thank you for your offer, your generous offer, but I am not the person you take me for. I am not fit to serve you, surely. We must return to the city. I have friends there.’
Elysiath regarded her sourly, almost petulantly, and Che wondered whether she was the first person to ever refuse the Masters something they wanted. ‘Return?’ the woman said drily. ‘Return to Khanaphes Above?’
‘We must, all three of us,’ Che said, with more strength. ‘I’m sorry.’
The Masters exchanged looks from the corners of their eyes. ‘Perhaps you are right,’ Elysiath said. ‘You are not fit to serve us, if that is what you believe.’
‘You have heard entirely too much of our secret histories,’ added Lirielle, but Elysiath actually interrupted and spoke over her: ‘These two with you, the savages, were doomed from the moment they stepped into our resting place, but you, you had a chance to become something greater than you are. Yet you have turned your back on that chance. You were born amongst the slave races, and now you shall die amongst them. Think only how you could have been more.’
Thalric tensed, hand poised to sting, and she saw Accius bring his sword up. Elysiath laughed, as the Jamail might have laughed when it destroyed the Scorpions. ‘Your weapons are nothing here,’ she told them patiently. ‘Though our dominion may have shrunk from the height of its greatness, you are within it now, for we still rule these halls.’ The great pressure of their collective minds hung over the three intruders. Che saw Thalric’s hand shake, his Art trapped within it. Accius’s face was shiny with sweat, his sword motionless.
‘You are not the first to come and steal our secrets,’ Elysiath said, raising a hand. ‘Nor shall you be the last to pay the price for it.’
‘Secrets?’
Che started at the voice, for it belonged to the Vekken beside them.
‘Our knowledge is our treasure, and no thieves shall take it outside these halls.’ Jeherian told him.
‘You have kept no secrets here.’ Accius’s expression suggested that the worst had befallen him, and he was meeting it joyously. ‘Slay me and you set your seal on nothing. You cannot keep us from knowing.’
‘What nonsense,’ Elysiath said scornfully, but Accius grinned, teeth gleaming brightly in his dark face.
‘My brother is at large in the city already. Not you nor all your servants shall catch him. And what I know, he knows.’
A dead silence fell between them, the great Masters regarding the defiant Ant-kinden with what Che realized was dawning puzzlement. At last it was Jeherian’s expression that changed, sagging with bitter weariness.
‘The old Art,’ he acknowledged. ‘The old Art of the savages. It has been far too long and we have forgotten too much, how they were in each other’s minds, the folk of the Alim and the Aleth.’ Che saw realization ripple through them all, stripping away their majesty and leaving a sad bewilderment behind. She found that, despite their malevolence and their vast power, she still felt sorry for them in some strange way – atavisms that remembered only
ruling a world that had long passed them by.
‘What could we say?’ she said. ‘Who would believe us anyway? We will return to the sun, and say nothing. There would be no profit for us in being dubbed liars or madmen. We leave you to your rest. Do not think ill of us.’
The Masters of Khanaphes regarded them stonily for a long moment, until Jeherian nodded minutely and said, ‘Go.’
Che would remember for ever the sight of them as she glanced back one last time: beautiful by an alien aesthetic, huge and commanding and gleaming in that bluish light. The immortal Slug-kinden, the Masters of Khanaphes.
She led the way back. Thalric tried to at first, but he went off course over and over, leading them in circles through the maze of halls by the light of Accius’s quisitor’s lamp. The true path to the light was clear only to Che and, once they had finally accepted that, she led them confidently until they found the corpses.
There were four of them there, three close by and one at a distance. Che had not quite identified them when Thalric knelt down beside the middle one of the three. She heard him take a long breath, and only then recognized the corpse as Osgan’s.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, Thalric. Really I am.’
‘I left him behind,’ Thalric said. ‘He was in pain, but I left him behind.’
‘We should go,’ Accius said shortly, still very anxious. Thalric looked up at him balefully and Che recalled how it was only because Accius had been abducting her that Thalric had abandoned Osgan to his fate.
‘No fighting, no disagreement,’ she ordered them flatly. ‘We leave here at once, or the Masters may change their minds. Thalric, I’m sorry, but we should spend no more time here than necessary.’
‘You’re right, of course,’ he said, standing up. She took his hand and led them on, past the final corpse, that was twisted, both face and body, into an attitude of unbearable horror.
The Scarab Path Page 65
