The Second God

by Pauline M. Ross

  8: Lakeside

  Spring eased into summer. Word came that the Blood Ceremony had been held, leaving us a moon until the Challenge. I stopped taking Ly’s magic from him, to allow it to build up, and Lathran disappeared to head north and find a way to mingle with the Clanfolk. I worried about him, and I knew Ly was anxious, too, although we never spoke of it. The Blood Clans were a secretive people, and outsiders were definitely not welcome. They were our immediate neighbours to the northwest, so Bennamore had always had dealings with them, but until recently it had been confined to invitations to important ceremonies – the Exaltation of a byan shar, or the installation of a new Drashon or Drashona. In recent years, there had been the black-bark trade, too. But beyond that, few had ventured far into the interior, and even fewer had returned to speak of it.

  A few suns before the Challenge, Ly and I prepared to fly north. Ly’s magic had built up beautifully, and it suited him. He had a spring in his step, he seemed taller and even his voice sounded stronger, to my ears. He couldn’t wait to show off his power to his people. That ebullience worried me a little. When I’d first known him, he’d been grateful to me for taking his magic. He’d said he felt more like himself without it, more normal. But what if he got used to this much power, and decided he liked it?

  Well, there was not much I could do about it. I’d agreed to let him have his magic for a while, and I would be right there beside him at the ceremony, so I could take some of his magic from him at any time if things got out of hand.

  There was nothing I could do about Arran, either. He became gloomier and gloomier as the time for us to leave drew nearer.

  “It will only be for a few suns,” I whispered, curled up in bed beside him on our last night together. “Then we will be back at Kingswell, and everything will be fine again.”

  “I wish I could come with you,” he said for the thousandth time. “If only I could fly an eagle. The mages can do it. If I just had a little bit of magic…”

  “Shhh. You can’t have magic, you know that. Not unless you want to train for five years to become a law scribe first. Besides, it’s not as easy to control an eagle as you might think, not without blood magic to create a mental bond. Quite a few mages have tried, but can’t get the hang of it.”

  “I know,” he said forlornly, kissing the top of my head. “But even without an eagle, I could have ridden ahead of you. Then we would have been together at Lakeside.”

  I laughed, and hugged him. “All that way, just for a sun or two together? And then all the way back here? Crazy! We will be back before you know it, you’ll see.”

  The flight north was uneventful, the weather perfect and the country in its best summer greenery. If I’d been less weighed down with niggling worries about my two men, and the safety of Lathran, it would have been a pleasant journey. Late in the afternoon, we passed the High Citadel, the abandoned city of the Three Princes, the first rulers of Bennamore so many generations ago. Until recently, it would have been deserted, but now there were wooden huts within the walls and wagons coming and going, as the stone was removed to build the new settlement on the border.

  Not long after, we reached the ditch and earthen bank marking the old border, still guarded by a fortress. I was glad we didn’t have to stay there, with all its bad memories of the war. We flew low over the fortress, and spiralled down towards the new town of Lakeside. Beyond it, the waters of the lake glowed in the light of the setting sun, its pink rays touching with flame the trees of the island sitting serenely in the lake. The sacred island, as it was to the Blood Clans, where their secret blood-sharing ceremony took place. And now it was special to Bennamore, too, for it held a newly-discovered scribery, a source of magical power for our mages.

  When we’d first taken over the island, we’d rowed across in little boats, as the Clanfolk did. But our boats seemed to suffer an unusual number of misfortunes, and were found adrift or sunk or burned out so many times that the Kellon had ordered a bridge to be built. It was still mostly of wood, and guarded constantly, but eventually it would be stone-clad and impervious to the hostility of the Clanfolk.

  One of the higher Lakeside buildings had been given a flat roof for the convenience of the eagles. We landed there in a great swirl of dust and beating wings, not just our own birds, but three others who had followed us from Kingswell. Ever since Sunshine’s injury, her kin had been very protective, and she was accompanied everywhere she went. A couple more eagles, who lived at Lakeside and had been quietly snoozing in the sun, woke up and flapped and screeched in greeting.

  We had barely settled the birds and turned towards the stairs before a small figure came hurtling across the roof to meet us. Mother, hugging us both, firing excited questions faster than we could answer. Behind her, Cal, blond hair flying, beaming at us.

  “Can we at least get inside before we tell you all the news?” I pleaded.

  “Let me just check you first,” Mother said, laying one cool hand on my cheek. “Ah, that’s good. You’re in perfect health. Now you, Ly – ouch!” She jumped backwards, snatching her hand away from him. “So much magic! And not the usual kind.”

  “I am so sorry,” Ly said in concern. “Are you hurt? I did not realise—”

  “No, no. I’m not hurt. It was just a shock, that’s all. I’ve never been aware of your magic before.”

  “Really?” I said. “Can’t you see it in him? To me, he shines in my mind like the sun.”

  “Does he?” She turned curious eyes on me. “But you attract magic to yourself, and you have his blood in you. I daresay that makes a difference.”

  Cal said, “Doesn’t he have an aura, Kyra? I can’t detect anything, but you would be able to see an aura, wouldn’t you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t see anything. But the aura is our kind of magic. Ly’s is very different.” She eyed him speculatively, but our official escort arrived at that moment, so nothing more was said.

  Lakeside smelled of newly cut wood, fresh paint and worked stone. Most of the buildings were still wooden, but the mages’ house was of stone, and construction of the Kellon’s hall was underway, already partially stone-clad. That made me smile. When I’d been growing up in Zendronia, the Kellona had complained bitterly at the slow pace of cladding her hall and building the essential bridge across the river, while the arrival of mages to her town had resulted in a sudden influx of masons and stone to construct their house. Mages were treated like gods in Bennamore, and only the Drashona commanded greater respect.

  The Lakeside Kellon was not likely to complain about anything. He had been very minor nobility, with no possibility of improvement, until the unexpected discovery of a scribery in his region, necessitating the immediate creation of a new Kell. Now he had several powerful mages on hand, and the traffic in extracted black-bark passed through him, a very profitable enterprise. If his town was a little makeshift for a few years, he could put up with the minor inconvenience.

  Once we had bathed and changed out of our dusty flying gear, we went to pay our respects. We found the Kellon relaxing in his private apartments surrounded by squealing small children.

  “Ah, Most Powerful Axandrina! And Most Powerful Ly-haam. Will you enter? Please excuse our informality, but this hour before evening board is our special time with the children. Will you take a little wine? Something to eat? Oh, do forgive me, I must introduce you to my wife, Meladora. She was not here the last time you honoured us with a visit.”

  “Gracious Lady,” I murmured politely, as a dumpy woman with prominent teeth simpered and bowed. She wore a plain gown, and was visibly pregnant – was that her fifth? Or possibly sixth. It was hard to count them all when they were racing round the room.

  “You will remember my drusse, I expect,” the Kellon said optimistically.

  “Gracious Lord.” I nodded to the drusse as he bowed, but I had only the vaguest memory of meeting him before.

  Ly’s memory was better than mine, however. “Ah, the archery champion,” he sa
id softly. “You did well at the autumn tournament, I recall.”

  The drusse smiled, and the Kellon said, “Indeed he did! Third in his class— No, Petterant, you must not hit your brother. My dear, can you calm them a little, do you think?”

  His wife signalled to the nurses waiting in the shadows, and within moments the children were swept off to another room, and silence descended.

  “Oh, no need to take them away,” the Kellon said plaintively, as the door closed behind his brood. “Ah well, perhaps I may visit the nursery wing later. They have only recently joined me here, Most Powerful, and I am greatly enjoying their company again. They are such a delight to me.”

  I found them more delightful when they were in a different room, but I could hardly say so. “Does it not concern you, having your family here, so close to the border?” I said. “After all, it is only five years since…” I couldn’t quite bring myself to call it by its true name, not when we were talking of children. “Since the troubles,” I finished lamely.

  Five years since the Blood Clans had flooded across this strip of land, past the fortress and into the heart of Bennamore. Five years since the war that we had barely survived. Five years of building our little town and pretending everything was fine. Yet the Clanfolk were still there, just on the other side of the lake, and in the black-bark forest beyond.

  The Kellon laughed. “Oh, I think we are safe enough, Most Powerful. After all, we have the enemy’s god right here, on our side, do we not?”

  I looked at Ly, who was studiously gazing at the rug. He was here, that much was true enough, but was he on our side? Who could say with certainty?

  ~~~~~

  We left the Kellon to the noisy delights of his family, and settled in at the newly-opened guest hall, still cluttered with ladders and furniture wrapped in sacking and a group of women walking about with measuring sticks. But the kitchen was operational, and we had a private suite which was fully furnished, and my own family on hand for company at evening board. Mother and Cal were there, and also my sister Sallorna and her drusse-holder, Krant. Sallorna was a scribe, with just one year left before she reached the highest level. Krant had adopted Sallorna as his personal pupil, just as Cal had once played that role for my mother when she was a scribe.

  It pleased me that both my sister and brother had grown up to become useful members of society. They had irritated me intensely when I was a child, but that was partly because I was ill for much of my early years, craving the magic I was addicted to, and my weakness made me cross all the time. Worse, they’d made me feel like an outsider in my own family, for they both had Cal’s blond hair and skinny frame, and I was dark like my Icthari father. But they’d grown up well, and perhaps I’d grown up a little too, for I liked them very much, now. Markell was a swordsmith at Kingswell, and quiet little Sallorna had proved to be the studious one, with Cal’s quick intelligence.

  It felt so good to be surrounded by my kin, with no formality, no restraint. My Kingswell life was filled with rigid protocol, meals eaten in jewel-encrusted splendour, making polite conversation to people I cared nothing about, my face aching from so much smiling. Here, I could be myself, and it was wonderful. I had a supply of jade vessels on hand to keep my need for magic assuaged, and if I could have had Arran beside me, too, it would have been perfect.

  The first talk around the table was always of the children – how they had grown, and what little adventures they’d had. Mother wanted all the details, and Ly was delighted to oblige, so several dishes came and went while we talked of new teeth, and grazed knees, and Callon’s first over-ambitious attempt to fly an eagle.

  But we soon turned to more serious matters.

  “Has any more been heard from Greenstone Ford?” Cal said. “We have trading links, don’t we? So surely some news has filtered back by now about the whirlwind.”

  “No, nothing,” I said. “After the wind, the arrangements were changed, and our traders are not allowed to stay overnight in the town. They go in, sell their goods and leave again, watched constantly by armoured soldiers. No talking to the dealers, no relaxing in taverns, no strolling round the streets. They report that the dealers are wary of the soldiers, but not terrified of them.”

  “Can the residents come and go as they please? Could they leave Greenstone Ford altogether if they wished?”

  I shook my head. “No one leaves, except work parties for the new bridge.” And that included our spies, trapped inside the town. No word had been heard from them in moons, and we had no idea whether they were alive or dead. But that was still a great secret, and I couldn’t mention it, even to my own family. “Yannassia has made several approaches to the authorities there, but messages are unanswered and even an official envoy was turned away. They don’t want to have any dealings with us. It makes it impossible to find out any more about this whirlwind.”

  “Kyra has been trying to generate whirlwinds – well, all the mages have been trying it – but without much success,” Cal said.

  “It’s not hard to make air move about,” Mother said. “I can make a little whirlwind, but it would barely ruffle an eagle’s feathers, let alone knock one out of the sky.”

  “It was this big,” Cal said, smiling, holding a hand about half a man’s height from the floor. “Pretty, but not terribly useful. I couldn’t even manage that. Krant got something going, higher than Kyra’s but not as powerful.”

  “It was not much,” Krant said. He was an odd-looking man, with yellowed skin which made him look sickly, and a high forehead on which his mage mark looked tiny. He seemed pleasant enough, though, and fond of Sallorna. “Personally, I would much rather find a way to make the eagles carry a non-mage passenger. Now that would really be a helpful trick. But a whirlwind has limited application.”

  “So whatever created the whirlwind, it was not another natural mage like you, Mother?”

  “No. I can’t imagine anyone with so much power over the wind.”

  “Well, someone has,” I said.

  “Not necessarily,” Cal said. “It could be some automated arrangement left behind by the pre-Catastrophe mages. The Imperial City is full of oddities like that, which are invisible until something sets them off. Or that plant – what is it called?”

  “Oh, the one with the exploding seedhead?” I said.

  “Yes. You trip over the roots, the seedpods all burst and you get hit by all these tiny stinging seeds. Not lethal to us, but a lot of rodents fall foul of the things.”

  “And then it wraps the carcase up in some kind of web. I remember reading about it, but I’ve never seen one.”

  “We call it the poisonous star plant,” Ly said quietly. “The seeds are white, so they look like little stars.”

  “Ah! Starfall,” Cal said triumphantly. “That’s what it’s called.”

  “Nasty!” Sallorna said. “Plants should sit quietly, and not hunt down prey like that.”

  Ly was the only one who didn’t laugh. “It is very useful,” he said, his face serious. “The seeds can be cooked to make a cleansing drink, and the webs, stems and leaves all have healing properties. All plants are a gift from the gods.”

  “Of course they are, dear,” Mother said, reaching across to pat his hand, then, remembering Ly’s magic, drawing back again. “Would someone pass the pie? I should like a little more.”

  “What I should like,” Krant said, “is to learn something of this ceremony you are to attend.”

  “It’s all very secret,” I said. “I’m not sure how much outsiders are allowed to know.”

  “Nothing at all,” Ly said. “I am so sorry, but it is forbidden to speak of the ceremony itself. The candidates try to open the door, that is all I can say about it.”

  “We know that much,” Cal said. “There are books that mention it. Although I don’t quite see the point. Why try to find a byan shar, when there’s one already?”

  Ly smiled. “There is a little more to it than that. No one will be able to open the door, but the Chal
lenge also identifies those with the strongest power. I cannot say any more about it.”

  “It’s a pity,” Cal said. “It would be helpful to know more of our nearest neighbours. And I suppose Drina won’t be able to tell us anything, even though she’ll see it all.”

  Ly’s face was as open as a book, and the dismay in his expression told me everything.

  “Oh, so that’s it, is it?” I said with icy displeasure. “You’ve dragged me all the way up here for this Challenge, and I’m not even allowed to be there with you?”

  “I am very sorry, Princess,” Ly whispered.

  9: Challenge

  For a moment, I was tempted to get back on Sunshine first thing tomorrow and go home to Arran. Why was I even here if I couldn’t go to the ceremony? And why was I forbidden?

  “But I’m your wife,” I hissed. “Surely I’m allowed to be there with you? And it’s not as if it’s a sacred ritual, like the Blood Ceremony – it’s a celebration, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is, but… you are not quite my wife.”

  “Not quite! What under the moon is that supposed to mean? We had the hand-fasting ceremony, and you took me to your Clan. Doesn’t that make me a wife?”

  “Not exactly. It is hard to explain.”

  “Of course it is!” I spat. “Everything about your people is hard to explain, seemingly. But I think you’re going to have to try.”

  He sighed. “It is complicated. For marriage between two Clanfolk, hand-bonding is sufficient. For the unblooded – outsiders – something more is needed. Blood-bonding. An exchange of blood.”

  That actually made sense, for a change. Exchanging blood would make the outsider part of the Clans, and therefore acceptable. I leaned back in my chair, a little mollified. “Well, that is not so bad, because I already have your blood in me, don’t I? So are we already blood-bonded?”

  But his face gave me my answer.

  “Oh, for—! Don’t tell me, I know what you’re going to say – it’s hard to explain.”