by Samit Basu
‘He said his presence gives us a certain degree of protection; while he’s with us, the gods will not notice Maya and me, and will find you and Spikes uninteresting.’ said Kirin. ‘We could invent a really complicated code of whistles and hand gestures if you want, but if the gods are really watching us, I don’t think that would help much.’
‘That will do,’ said Asvin. ‘Well, I hate saying this, but Spikes was right. I accept that the order I set out to obey – telling everyone of the world’s end – was clearly not one the Scorpion Man meant us to take literally. And I would like to visit the gods – they owe me many answers. Explaining this would be a start.’ He ran his hand across the open gash that ran across his throat. ‘When does your lizard wake up and tell us what to do?’
‘I don’t think he intends to,’ said Kirin. ‘He said he wouldn’t send us on quests; he would just give us information we needed at the right time. We will probably have to make our plans ourselves. Which brings us to an interesting question. How are we supposed to go meet gods? Does anyone know?’
‘Well, depending on what you believe in, the gods are either sitting on top of a high mountain, or underground, or under the sea, or in the heavens, above the sky,’ said Maya, ‘but in general, they’re in places that have been inaccessible at the times the legends were written. Mortals who reached them usually did so after dying, and in any case, stories about gods and mortals are always meant to be interpreted, not used to make travel plans. When civilization expands, gods probably move further away to avoid the traffic.’
‘The unwaba said the gods sit around the world, using it as a board to play their game,’ said Kirin. ‘I don’t think we can reach them physically; in any case, we can’t just turn up there, we would be seen. We need to speak to Zivran alone and in secret; how can we threaten him, otherwise?’
‘There must be a path, even if it’s not a material one,’ said Maya. ‘Some form of trance or dream-state that lets people see gods and speak to them, or a secret portal somewhere. That must be why we need someone who truly believes in the gods; maybe only a true believer can find this path and reach them through his prayers. Asvin?’
‘Yes?’
‘Pray,’ said Maya, smiling at Asvin. ‘Very hard.’
‘I have,’ he replied. ‘All my life. I don’t think that works.’
‘All right, then,’ said Kirin, ‘trances, then. Shamans do that when they speak to the gods, right?’
‘Yes, but most shamans speak to elemental spirits and so on; there are just so many powers that roam the earth; we don’t want to end up at the wrong house. We’d end up smoking something that would knock us out for days, and we’d see a lot of things, fun, but would they be gods? I don’t know,’ said Maya.
‘A lot of the undead masquerade as gods as well,’ said Asvin. ‘I’ve seen them, in the Great Pyramid, wearing fancy head-dresses and wooden masks, making fools of shamans.’
‘The unwaba will have to tell us what works, and how to do it,’ said Kirin firmly. ‘We can’t wander around the world trying out every culture’s most exotic drug. It would be fun, but no.’
Maya frowned. ‘But that would be setting us a quest, wouldn’t it?’
‘Not if it were the wrong quest,’ said Spikes.
He looked around, observing their blank faces without comment.
‘Is that it?’ asked Kirin.
‘No,’ said Spikes. ‘What I mean is, if the gods think Asvin is on a quest to meet them and ask them why he died, and then Asvin pretends to fail that quest, but in the process gets what you need to speak to the gods, then it should work. The unwaba could tell Asvin what he needs to do.’
‘That’s either really brilliant, or really silly,’ said Kirin. ‘I’ve reached the stage where I can’t tell the difference.’
‘In other words,’ said the unwaba, sticking his head out of his pouch, ‘you have reached the stage where you must seek the infinite wisdom of a higher power.’
His head flicked from side to side, and when he spoke again, his whisper was saturated with smugness. Even former gods are entitled to derive satisfaction from a well-timed entrance.
‘First of all, let me welcome Asvin to this little conspiracy. Asvin, looking at you brings me happiness, because it shows me yet again how far the gods have strayed. Allowing a hero like you to die before he achieved anything significant? A terrible, callous crime. Zivran must pay. I must also encourage you on your self-control even in your current state. Killing Maya would have made things very inconvenient for everyone.’
‘What?’ gasped Maya. Kirin reached for his Shadowknife, and felt silly, because it was, of course, with Spikes.
Asvin stared at the unwaba, his mouth open. His features arranged themselves slowly until they expressed the amazement he felt.
‘Calm yourselves. You are no longer in danger. Asvin had toyed with the idea of killing Maya to turn her undead with the Scorpion Man’s aid, and thereby resume their great romance. However, displaying the propensity towards sacrifice and self-denial that the gods have always enjoyed in the finest Avrantic heroes, he decided not to. In doing so, he proved he was still Asvin, and not Pralay, the Cold Prince. Furthermore -’
Maya closed the unwaba’s mouth swiftly.
‘You can’t tell us what’s happening inside our heads,’ she said. ‘It’s wrong. We’ve talked about this before.’
‘I thought those restrictions applied only to yourself and Kirin,’ said the unwaba when she let go.
‘Any of us,’ said Maya, gritting her teeth. ‘Is that clear?’
‘All right,’ said the unwaba. ‘Let us, then, talk about what must be done.’
He gave them a few seconds to finish shaking their heads and shooting furious glances at him, and then spoke again.
‘The rest of you are unaware that Kirin, in blatant defiance of my clearly expressed orders, summoned all the dragons in the world to rescue Kol and defeat the ravian airships. They succeeded, at no small cost. And you almost lost me, your only chance of survival. I was angry, and the anger of the unwaba, oldest and wisest of chameleons, is a terrible thing. However, seeing how dismal you were, how hopeless, how lost, I decided to forgive you and carry on. Kirin has learned not to defy me again. You have been fortunate; the gods did not observe his little rebellion, choosing to believe, instead, that it was Aciram, who rules the Dark Tower wearing Kirin’s face, who sent his dragons to Kol’s aid.’
‘Thank you,’ said Maya, grasping Kirin’s arm. ‘I wish you’d told me.’
‘Pay attention,’ said the unwaba. ‘Kirin’s foolishness has, however, placed us all in great danger. If the dragons had not destroyed the airships, they would have swept over the Free States, destroying every human city in their path, and then moved on to Artaxerxia. There would have been prolonged battles; the vamans would have responded to the threat from the skies, jinns and rakshases would have joined the battle, and the dragons, too, would have responded in time, giving the gods enough entertainment to satisfy them for months, and giving us enough time to save the world at leisure. However, Kirin’s misplaced loyalty to Kol has ended this battle prematurely.
‘Now you have an additional responsibility. The gods need more to keep them satisfied; you cut short one enjoyable segment of the game, and you, therefore, must arrange something else to ensure they stay entertained. If you do not, they will look at the rest of the world even more closely, and they will find you and destroy you.’
‘Are you saying I ended the war?’ asked Kirin.
The unwaba laughed, or perhaps he coughed. The sound, whatever it was, was dry. ‘You ended nothing,’ he said. ‘A great ravian army still approaches Imokoi. The dragons still fight nameless beasts under the surface of the earth. The undead army still chafes restlessly, waiting to sweep across the world in a tide of destruction. Besides all this, there are innumerable suitably touching personal stories all over the world for the more sentimental gods to take an interest in. But even all this is not enough. You must
make sure the gods have something to observe that is so intriguing that they will be sufficiently distracted to not notice your dark, secret deeds. You cannot, of course, provide this distraction yourself – that would be seen as a great quest - but you must, while staying unobserved, make sure the gods are looking elsewhere.’
‘How?’ asked Kirin.
‘If I could allow myself to tell you,’ said the unwaba, ‘I would have. I will now take a short nap, and wake up when you have thought of something.’
His eyes closed, and his head nodded slowly as he snuggled into Maya’s shoulder. She looked at the others, aghast, and found no comfort in their faces, which were as helpless as her own.
* * *
‘Well?’ said the unwaba.
‘Muwi-vision,’ said Kirin. ‘Where is Mantric?’
‘A truly excellent suggestion, and I was happy knowing you would make it. Mantric is in Kol, and more specific directions are pointless, as he will have moved by the time you reach the city. Remember, though, that no one else must see you – no one at all. What you do in Kol must remain hidden from all eyes. In fact, it is better if Mantric meets only Asvin; he cares too deeply about Maya, and will tell the Civilian if you or Spikes ask him for anything. Think carefully before you decide what to say to him; he is eccentric, and will not follow instructions. Do not reveal my presence to him. Asvin, you must remember that the gods might be watching you, and listening to anything you tell Mantric. They will be slow to suspect you of deceit; already, the judges of the Game feel nothing but guilt when they see you. Use this opportunity well; you will not have much time, and you will need to be very convincing. Is that understood?’
‘Yes,’ said Asvin, reaching new levels of confusion every second.
‘Good. What else do you want to know? Oh yes, you want to know how to reach the gods, and you have already realized this must be done using a combination of some trance-inducing magical object, and Asvin’s faith. Well done; if I had had to tell you, the significance of the quest would have rendered us visible. Remember to ask Mantric what, in known chemistry or unverified myth, causes the most powerful visions; once you know this, I will be able to give you the more mundane but necessary instructions you will require to catch the bird.’
‘The bird?’ asked Kirin, now convinced they were all mad.
‘The bird,’ said the unwaba, and fell asleep.
* * *
That night, Kirin awoke with a start as something cold and wet touched his ear.
‘Thanks to this timely warning, you will not make a noise indicating how startled you are and wake up the others,’ said the unwaba. ‘I have some things to say that are for your ears alone.’
Kirin rubbed his eyes and yawned.
‘About the bird?’ he asked.
‘About the bird? Listen to yourself. You sound ridiculous. No, I will now tell you something that you, and only you, need to know. From our previous conversation, you might have guessed that I am displeased with you,’ said the unwaba.
‘You know, I thought you weren’t being as loving as usual,’ said Kirin. ‘But it’s all right. A lot of people aren’t very happy with me at the moment. We can cuddle and make up, if you like.’
‘There is something you should know before you go any further, young Kirin,’ said the unwaba. ‘As your recent encounter with Qianzai taught you, decisions of a certain magnitude inevitably invite consequences. And now you journey to Kol, to learn how to face the gods. And though you are disguised as a servant, in the gods’ eyes, if you are found out, you will be regarded as the leader of this little enterprise. Tales from this world’s past have demonstrated time and time again that when the earthborn and the gods meet, there is always a price to pay.’
‘I thought we were going to seek a favour.’
‘There is always a price.’
‘Which is why we’re resorting to blackmail, right? Make us another world, Zivran, or we tell the other gods you’re cheating, and if we die, we take you with us. Sounds like a fun plan.’
The unwaba blinked solemnly. ‘Even if your plan is successful, you will have made an enemy in the heavens. Mortals have tricked the gods before, but they have never escaped vengeance. And gods can wait a very, very long time.’
‘So even if we save the world, we’re all going to die?’
‘Not all of us.’ The unwaba looked away.
Kirin smiled in the darkness. ‘Just me?’
‘There is a price to pay for defeating the gods. It is the way things are. If this mad scheme succeeds, you may save the world – but you will not live to enjoy the fruits of your victory. This is the sacrifice you must make. I did not think it fair that you should be unaware of this. On the bright side, you will be undertaking a glorious task, and the gods will honour you as they take your life.’
‘That’s nice to know,’ said Kirin. He stood up swiftly.
‘What are you doing?’ asked the unwaba, clinging on to Kirin’s hair.
‘I’m waking the others, and then we’re getting out of here,’ said Kirin, ‘I’ve really had enough of you. You’re clearly mad, and we don’t know what we’re doing, and we could be spending our time far better fighting for the things we care about. There’s a war going on, and I could have made a significant difference already instead of listening to you and your idiotic prophecies.’
‘Maya is committed to carrying out this task,’ said the unwaba with a certain degree of malice, ‘and you will find the others are too. You were the only one who doubted me – which is why I took it upon myself to tell you of your impending death, so you could leave if you wanted to. I am trying to give you the illusion of choice. You should be grateful.’
‘Tell me, then, all-knowing one,’ said Kirin, ‘what happens if I leave? Do the others succeed? Does the world survive?’
‘I am not a teller of alternate futures,’ said the unwaba. ‘So I will not lie to you. I will merely point out that in the event of your departure, Maya’s chances of surviving this venture diminish considerably. There are still gods to deceive, and there is still a price for such an endeavour. If the gods could actually be defeated, beyond all question, by their creations, without any appropriate retribution, the universe itself might collapse. That cannot be allowed.’
‘If we win, for now at least, and I die, does Maya survive?’
‘I cannot promise that.’
‘I thought you knew everything. Answer my question, or I will do something that ensures the gods see us – and you. If we succeed, and the world is saved, and the gods discover they have been deceived – does Maya survive if I stay and take the blame?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you know I’m going to stay.’
‘Yes. But I could pretend I had expected you to leave, since going ahead meant not only death, but spending several of your remaining days watching the poignant, touching romance involving the woman you love and the heroic zombie.’
‘But did you really expect me to leave without seeing how it all ended?’
‘No.’
‘So it was all for the sheer enjoyment of telling me terrible news, and thus punishing me for my disobedience.’
‘Not at all. I do sympathize, you know. Hearing all this so soon after you lost the dragons cannot have been pleasant. You must have lost any semblance of self-belief.’
‘Why wake me up just to tell me I’m going to die, then?’
‘I was awake,’ said the unwaba, curling up in Kirin’s hand. ‘Revelations of great importance were inevitable.’
Chapter Thirteen
King Amrit’s Park, named after the first king of Kol, had always been a place of great historical relevance. Down the centuries, its shady green avenues had seen many of the world’s most important people quarrel, conspire, gossip, make love or simply sit and think; even today, with much of Kol reduced to rubble, its trees offered calm and solitude. King Amrit’s Park had not survived the ravian onslaught unscathed; large sections of what had been beautiful green gard
ens were now charred wastelands.
Even Streaker’s Corner, where Kolis who found the weight of the world oppressive could take off their clothes and rail about their sorrows to large and encouraging audiences, was empty and denuded. Streaker’s Corner had been the only place in the city at ground level where, if one turned around in circles (as was frequently the case), one could see all of Kol’s greatest towers silhouetted against the horizon. Now, sadly, all one could see from Streaker’s Corner was skeletal, incredibly tall vaman scaffolding that cast long striped shadows across the scattered remains of the Big Mango.
The vamans had been reconstructing central Kol for two weeks now, and while work had progressed at a phenomenal rate, it would be a long time before Kol’s spires, arches and domes would stand proudly again in the sunshine. Not that anyone was present at Streaker’s Corner to mourn the demise of Kol’s towers; King Amrit’s Park was closed to the public for the day. The sky above the park was full of vroomsticks, Red Phoenix guards spiraling above the trees in lazy circles, and on the ground shadows flitted from tree to tree; the Silver Phalanx was in charge of making sure no concealed assassin disturbed the gathering that was taking place in a secluded grove in the park.
The Chief Civilian of Kol was meeting ambassadors from all over the world, assuring them that Kol still stood; that Kol was still strong despite its broken heart. The armies of the Free States, reorganized and strengthened by Artaxerxian forces loyal to the Sultan, now held the lands to the south of the Great Forest. The ravian army that had been marching westwards on the southern fringes of Vrihataranya had retreated and disappeared into the forest; Kol claimed this as a victory, though the new ambassador from Imokoi, a jackal-headed shabtic demon named Duamu whose very presence was causing most of the humans present to break into cold sweats, said the ravian army had moved inwards to ward off an attack from the rakshases of Vrihataranya. Either way, the Free States and the lands to the west appeared to be safe for the moment. Imokoi, Duamu said, was more than ready for the ravians; it was licking its fangs in anticipation. Dark Lord Kirin had asked the Civilian to send a force of humans and vamans to Danh-Gem’s Wasteland, south of Imokoi, not because he needed help but to share in that glorious bloodbath; that scarred plain would echo once again to the sound of war-drums and death-screams. But the Civilian could not agree to this; though she would be eternally grateful, she said, for Imokoi’s help at a time when Kol was in dire need (Duamu might have looked a little confused at this, but being jackal-headed helped him conceal his surprise), Kol would have to keep its forces nearby, since Avranti was still cut off from the world, and danger could issue forth from the east at any time.
