Children of Another God tbw-1

by T C Southwell

  She looked up and sighed. "I noticed. But you don't have to owe a person something to help them if they're in trouble. If you gave your help freely, people would like you far better."

  "Finish your chores, and I'll tell you a little about Mujar."

  When the tent was pitched and a pot of stew bubbled on the fire, she turned to him. "Well?"

  He glanced at her with a slight smile. "It's not as interesting as you seem to think. Quite simply, it's forbidden for Mujar to help any who haven't earned it."

  Recalling her father's explanation, she asked, "Why?"

  "I can't tell you that. Mujar obey the laws and accept the consequences, which are sometimes unpleasant. Our ways have made Low – Truemen hate us, but they never really liked us in the first place. We're different, and your people dislike those who are not the same as them. When we first came amongst you, your people tried to enslave us. That's how they learnt of our powers, when they put iron chains on us. They thought us inferior, because we were not Truemen. Yet we don't hate them for throwing us into the Pits, or for reviling us."

  "Then it's true, you don't have any emotions."

  Chanter shook his head with a rueful smile. "We do, but hatred is not common for us, nor does it consume us as it does you. Truemen expect us to hate them for what they've done to us, and sometimes we do feel it, but it's a fleeting thing. You're mortal, so death may take you at any time. Mujar have the gift of life for a hundred years. Thus, we're different, and our ways are different too."

  "I don't understand. My father forced you to help me by sticking that arrow in you, just as I did. Why help someone for pulling out the arrow they hurt you with in the first place?"

  "We forgive the harm that's done to us, and are grateful for the end of the pain inflicted. By removing the arrow, you helped me, even though you were responsible for shooting me with it. You didn't have to pull it out, and had you not, I would have continued to suffer. More than that, I can't tell you. It's not always like that."

  "Has someone helped you who didn't hurt you first?"

  "Yes, when my clan was killed, a spear pinned me to the ground. I would have remained there for the rest of my life without help. If Dolana pierces a Mujar, we're unable to command it. I was too weak to pull it out, so I sent a raven with a message, and a Trueman saved me. I gave gratitude and granted a Wish, just as I did for you."

  Talsy snorted. "So you'll accept help, but you won't give it."

  "Not true. I'm helping you, and the Trueman who saved me."

  "Because we earned it."

  "Yes." He paused. "And now you despise me too."

  She glanced at him. "No. I could never despise you. You're different, and I don't understand you, that's all."

  Chanter smiled. "There are many things I don't understand about my kind. Why are Mujar different? Where do we come from? Why do we long for comforts we don't need? I don't know."

  Talsy served the stew, her mind abuzz with questions now that he seemed willing to answer them. "Will you tell me about the Powers?"

  "They are the four elements. Dolana, the Earthpower, is the reason I can't lie on the ground for too long. It's a cold Power, and it fills me up, pushing out Crayash, the Power of Fire. Truemen use it to trap Mujar. When filled with Dolana, Mujar can't wield another Power, and it makes us weak if we have too much in us. Dolana's an unfriendly Power. Crayash is the best and easiest to use. It keeps us warm. Ashmar is the Power of Air, and Shissar is the Power of Water."

  "You use Shissar to heal."

  "Yes, but it has many uses. Too many to tell you all of them."

  "So you can control anything you want?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "The weather?"

  Chanter nodded. "Ashmar."

  "The trees?"

  "Dolana."

  "The animals?"

  Chanter set aside his empty bowl. "Everything. Animals are controlled by the Power in which they dwell, Dolana for beasts, Ashmar for birds and Shissar for fish."

  "What about Crayash?"

  "No animal dwells in fire."

  "You could do anything then?" Talsy asked. "Make the mountains explode, the oceans run over, the earth open and swallow cities."

  Chanter nodded, his eyes twinkling. "If I wanted to."

  "That makes you… a god."

  The Mujar threw back his head and laughed so hard he fell off the rock and sprawled in the snow. Talsy grinned, infected by his mirth, which he made no attempt to control. He said, "I knew that was coming."

  "But it does!" she asserted. "You could rule the world!"

  Chanter laughed even harder. "I don't want to rule the world!"

  "Why not?"

  "Why would I?"

  She shook her head. "For power, for glory! To right all the wrongs and make it a better place."

  "That's impossible."

  "Why?"

  "No one can eradicate all wrong doings, nor bend every person to his will, except a god, which I'm not."

  Talsy thumped the snow. "You could! If they didn't obey you, you just make the earth swallow them."

  "Oh yes, that would make me very popular." He chuckled. "And soon there'd be no one left." His gaiety died, and he sat up. "How can a sweet girl like you be so bloodthirsty?"

  "I'm not," she protested, then frowned. "It would be for their own good, to stop all the silly wars and crime. Like the Black Riders. You could wipe them out."

  The Mujar sighed. "It wouldn't work."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm not a god, and I can't kill."

  "Can't or won't?" she demanded.

  "Both. Death is the province of Marrana, Lady of Death, and I don't control it. You see, she really is a goddess, as is Antanar, Lord of Life."

  Talsy snorted. "They don't exist. There's only one god."

  "That's your god, who dwells wherever you come from," he said. "But these are mine. I've seen Marrana."

  "How can you see a god?"

  He smiled. "If you believe your deductions, you're sitting next to one."

  She ignored his teasing. "When did you see her?"

  "On my clan's killing fields."

  "What did she look like?"

  "A mist, a face… Three faces, actually."

  Talsy considered that, struck by the strangeness of the Mujar's earlier statement. "Why did you say, 'wherever I come from'?"

  Chanter's brows rose. "You don't come from this world. Don't you know that?"

  "Then where do we come from?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Then how do you know we don't belong here?"

  "Because you're different."

  "How?"

  "You don't fit in." He looked pensive. "How can I explain? Every living thing of this world relates to it, see? Every creature feels the Powers and can use them, but you don't, and nor do your animals. Your people don't belong here."

  She stared at him. "How long have we been here?"

  "I don't know."

  "How did we get here?"

  "You came in a wingless silver bird that fell from the sky, and my gods remade you and your beasts."

  Talsy shook her head in confusion. "But you saw your Goddess of Death on your clan's killing fields. What was she doing?"

  "Gathering souls."

  "The souls of my people, who don't belong here."

  He nodded. "What choice does she have?"

  "She could leave them here."

  "That would probably cause problems."

  "What does she do with them?"

  "They go to the Lake of Dreams." He paused, eyeing her, then added, "The silver bird brought five hundred and thirty-seven Trueman souls here, as well as several less evolved souls. The gods could have destroyed them, but they decided to give them a chance and recreated the forms in which they lived, putting many of them into animals, which they learnt about from the souls' memories. Souls multiply when they leave their corporeal bodies, sloughing off sparks that then start new lives as simple animals. They
rest in the Lake of Dreams until they're reborn."

  "A paradise?"

  "Something like that."

  Talsy stared into space for several minutes while she pondered this.

  Chanter waited, studying her, then broke into her reverie. "Have I answered all your questions?"

  She shook her head. "You don't have all the answers."

  "That's because I'm not a god."

  "You're a demigod then. Certainly to me you are."

  He smiled. "Well, just don't expect me to tear down the mountains or part the seas, and certainly not solve all the problems of the world."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I can't. I mean, I could tear down the mountains, but I wouldn't want to, but I can't solve the problems of the world."

  "Because you won't kill?"

  "Yes, if killing is the answer."

  "It seems to me that Mujar are very gentle people," she said. "To have so much power, and yet refuse to use it violently, even when you're tortured and thrown into the Pits, must be hard. My father told me that you'll never harm a person, and he hates your kind."

  "Your father's wrong. Mujar can do great harm, very easily. Too easily, in fact. The mere manifestation of our power can frighten Truemen, as it did you. But we try not to do harm."

  "How do you know so much about the silver bird and everything? Who told you?"

  He looked puzzled. "No one."

  "Then how do you know about it?"

  He shrugged. "I just do."

  "You mean you were born with it?"

  "I suppose so." He rose and added more wood to the fire, apparently losing interest in the conversation. Darkness surrounded them, and Talsy yawned behind her hand.

  Chanter turned to her. "Better let me fix that ankle."

  She had almost forgotten the painful joint, but as soon as he reminded her, it ached. She cocked her head and smiled. "Do I deserve a Wish?"

  "No, this is part of the clan bond. Within a clan, small favours are earned with comforts. There's no need for a Wish. As I recall, you asked for help and transportation as the clan bargain, and this is help. Protection was your Wish."

  "What's the difference?"

  He sighed. "Not a lot, except I can break clan bond at any time, but not until your Wish of protection has been fulfilled."

  "So if I never need your protection…"

  He shot her a smile. "That's unlikely, or I wouldn't have granted it."

  Chanter healed her ankle, and she wondered afresh at this strange man who would not lift a finger to save a person in trouble. Afterwards, she crawled into the tent, where he joined her for a while to share his warmth, propped up on one elbow as before, and she fell asleep snuggled close to him. She woke later alone, and waited for his return. Each time he was there when she fell asleep, and in the morning she woke to find him lying beside her. He did not stay long, and it seemed that her longing for greater intimacy was doomed, since he could only spend a short while lying on the ground.

  Chapter Six

  Two days later, they entered the lowlands' warmer climes. Broad belts of woodland dissected rolling meadows that herds of grazing beasts populated. An occasional herder's hut stood at the edge of a forest, smoke curling from its chimney, but for the most part the land was wild. Wagons and horsemen traversed the roads, so Chanter avoided them.

  In the middle of the third day, a sprawling city came into sight ahead, on the banks of a mighty brown river. A chequerboard of cultivated fields surrounded it, divided by low stone walls and tended by brown-clad peasant farmers. Chanter stopped, and Talsy slid from his back, pulling off the bag. A surge of Earthpower transformed him back into a man, and he gazed at the city.

  "I'm not going in there," he said.

  "We need a bridge to get to the other side," she pointed out. "And besides, I have to buy provisions. I can hunt for meat, but we need flour, salt, sugar and tea."

  He shook his head. "I don't need a bridge, nor do I need to be beaten and spat on, then thrown into a Pit."

  "But I may need your protection."

  Chanter eyed her. "Why would you need protection in a city?"

  "There are thieves and… bad men. It isn't safe for a woman to travel alone in a city."

  He glanced at the sky, reminding her of his wild inclinations, and her father's words returned to haunt her.

  "You could become the stallion. Who would know?"

  "Everyone. The woman in the woods wasn't fooled, was she?"

  "You can't change your eyes, can you?"

  He shook his head.

  "Surely they can't harm you? You can simply fly away if they try."

  "I might not see them coming."

  Talsy sighed and gazed at the greatest obstacle they had yet encountered. Her people, a dire threat. An idea came to her. "What about if you came as a bird and watched over me from the sky? Then you'd be safe."

  He looked uneasy. "Not from arrows."

  "Don't leave me," she pleaded.

  "If they catch me, they'll throw me in a Pit."

  "I won't let them. I'd rescue you somehow."

  The Mujar did not appear to hear her. "The Pits are living death. We can't escape them, nor can we die."

  Tears stung her eyes. "Even if I had to come down there after you, I wouldn't let you stay in a Pit."

  He looked startled. "You'd do that?"

  She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

  Chanter said, "I've granted you the Wish of protection, so I'll come as a bird."

  Talsy wanted to hug him. He had not intended to leave her, only voiced his doubts. He picked up the bag and set off towards the city, keeping his eyes down. When the people they encountered on the road gave him hard looks, he stopped and dumped the bag.

  "I shouldn't go any closer. There was a time when Mujar could live in the cities, but not anymore."

  "Okay."

  "I'll see you on the other side. I'll be watching."

  Again she fought the urge to hug him. He took a few light steps and leapt into the air. The rush of wind raised a dust cloud, and the sound of beating wings filled air, then a raven winged away into the blue sky. Talsy watched until he was a dot against the heavens, picked up the bag and trudged towards the city.

  Passing through the gates, she entered a bustling, dirty place charged with vile smells and raucous noise. After the sweet, clean freedom of the quiet forest, Talsy resented the pushing people who thronged the streets and the cries of hawkers who waved their wares at her and pushed their leering faces close. She shuddered away from the unsavoury goodies they offered, swept along by the rude crowd. Puddles of filth made the footing treacherous. Animal dung and urine mixed with slops thrown from the houses. Beggars clutched her sleeve and whined, well-dressed people pushed her aside.

  Stopping at a marketplace set in a garbage dump of rotting unsold wares, she bought what she needed with a few of her meagre collection of coins. Her stomach rumbled as she hurried past inns whence the savoury smells of stew and roasting meat emanated, eager to be free of the city and reach the far side of the river. For a girl born and raised in the country, the town was a nightmare of overcrowding and squalor, a dirty maze of twisted streets lined with dilapidated houses, skinny children playing in the gutters.

  Arriving at a broad bridge built from mighty timbers, she started across, then stepped back in confusion when two spear-toting guards blocked her path. One leered at her and thrust his unshaven face close.

  "This is a toll bridge, woman. You got the money?"

  She shook her head. "How do I cross?"

  He gestured with his rusty weapon. "Use one of the others. Some are free."

  The narrow alley he indicated ran upstream beside the river. Her good sense told her to stay in the busy thoroughfare, however.

  The guard winked at her. "You could make payment in kind."

  Talsy recoiled from his revolting invitation and hurried down the alley. Sagging shanties bordered it, and the stench of urine and huma
n manure made her queasy. Skinny dogs foraged in the rubbish, and rats squeaked and scurried along the edges. Crippled, filthy beggars, no more than bundles of stinking rags with outstretched claw-like hands, clutched at her as she passed. Feral children watched her with empty eyes, their ragged clothes revealing swollen bellies and twisted limbs. She wondered why the city folk, who reviled Mujar for refusing to help them, did not care if their own people starved and suffered in this terrible place. Why should Mujar help those who would not even help each other?

  Reaching a dilapidated bridge, she headed for it, but a gang of beggars blocked her way, hands outstretched.

  "Toll! Pay toll!" they cried, jumping into her path when she tried to sidestep them.

  Ignoring her protests, they persisted until she gave up and carried on along the alley in search of a bridge that neither soldiers nor beggars claimed. Further on, she came to a rude barricade that forced her to turn into a side street leading away from the river. At the next junction, she entered a narrow road running parallel to the spate, and searched for a way back to the bank. The alleys twisted and turned in a fiendish maze, and she soon realised that she was lost. She looked up at the rows of crows that lined the rooftops, preening and calling harshly. If only she had wings.

  The afternoon dwindled as the sun sank towards the mountains, out of sight in this endless warren of foul streets. Dusk would soon fall, and she still had to pass through the second half of the city, on the other side of the river, before she was free of its squalor. By now, she had no idea which direction to take. Tumbledown huts blocked her view on every side. An old blind beggar squatted beside the road, rattling a tin cup in which a few stones resided, and she approached him.

  "Can you tell me how to get to the river, old man?" she asked.

  He rattled his cup. "Coin for aid, missy."

  Talsy fished out a copper and dropped it into the cup. The old beggar pulled the cup into his ragged robes and cackled. "Foolish woman. How do I know where the river is? I'm blind!"

  "Surely you know where you are?"

  "Somewhere in the accursed slums."

  Talsy groaned. "But is it east or west?"

  "No idea." The beggar cackled again, revealing shrunken, toothless gums.