The Book of the Ler

by M. A. Foster

  “I am not a demon, although doubtless many would think me so. Come with me, then. There will be many of the helmeted ones to break through.”

  “These others must go also.”

  “There is need for haste. We cannot guide such a large party, especially those not willing to fight, or unable.”

  She shook her head, with great effort. “No. They must go. I have sworn a bond on their safety. I am responsible.”

  “Then I will speak of secret things, that the wisewoman of the Haydar see in the firelight by the bones of their mother’s left hand: I am Cretus and I have returned to reclaim my world. I see that you still obey that custom from the deeps of time; I read it in your face. Four accompanied this body to the chamber below, who were to capture me or kill me. They failed, but I did not succeed, either. One escaped me, and is now spreading the tale, recruiting his armsmen. There is no way out of this chamber but up, and we must assume they hold it now. Can these fight?”

  “I do not know. They are offworlders and Firstfolk from beyond the stars. The one with the gray hair is an embasse, and he may not be attacked.”

  “Not good. It will be hard, this way.”

  “You invoke a force I cannot disobey; yet I will not leave these. It is honorable to die in such circumstances.”

  That was that. No point in forcing her further. Haydar who survived the trials of adolescence would no longer have a fear of death. It was just another option.

  “Demon or Cretus, I respect your obligations. But know that I am a Hierarch of the Ludi, that I have seen Sara Damassou with my own eyes, and walked along the Falaise.”

  “If you are Cretus, of whom it is spoken, you are not of this world but of the past. Who was your master in the trial of truth?”

  “Tarso Emi Koussi.”

  She had tested him, and he had given an answer that rang of the far past, and men who stood mighty in the legends of the People. And Sara Damassou, the only city the Haydars had ever lived in, the Forbidden One, the Holy Place, was no more and none knew where it had been.

  “E-eyeh! Let it be so! Let us awaken these strangers and depart this place. It has come as was told to me, and I would have you speak of these things with my people. It is said of old that the Haydar were high in the councils of Cretus, and would that it be so again.”

  “Indeed.”

  Together, they set to the task of awakening the others, then, some easily, others with more difficulty, but after a time, all were conscious again, and Tenguft had explained the situation to them all. And not once had Cretus felt anything from his unwilling host. He tensed himself slightly, hoping that he would not until they could get out of this castle. Then there would have to be some arrangement made, without doubt, although there was no precedent for it anywhere in Cretus’ memory.

  8

  “Unless we live in the present, we do not live at all.”

  —A.C.

  WHEN THEY WERE all awake, Cretus explained briefly, borrowing the words and speech from Meure’s memories; he spoke with wry authority and a fine sense of irony which left no doubt in any of their imaginations what he might do. And the situation was clearly as he described it; no one could argue against the necessity of escaping the castle immediately.

  Clellendol regained his thief’s ways, and assessed the situation they found themselves in. He observed, to Cretus-Meure, “We are far down in the rock. Then we shall have to go back up the narrow way, which they can challenge, no doubt.”

  Cretus thought a moment before answering. At last, he said, “They can. And I know no secret adyts, at least not near this level, such as we might use. And I assume that the inhabitants have delved more since my days. More, certain passages I remember may be blocked up, or be useless. No, the way out is not in stealth. But the narrow ways can work for us, too. And it also may be that they will not risk a direct confrontation; they do not know what I can do—or can’t.”

  “You have lost the ability to read the future, that is true.”

  “I used it seldom, even in the first. My power was in decision and persuasion, in risktaking, and in minimizing losses. My opponents were dogmatists and safety-firsters. When I had the power to do so, I crushed them; when I did not, I manipulated their weaknesses until I could neutralize them, and deal with them at leisure. And besides, reading the future is uncomfortable; we do not have the reference for it, to understand what we see, so it is deadly; that is why I stopped early. And because also . . . that I saw that the act itself was just another system to build surety, as was theirs; so I returned to the ways I knew best. And what I have seen here so far gives me hope that we can get out of here without too much trouble.”

  Then he indicated that they should begin, and set out, up the stairs and passageways of Dzoz Cucany. Cretus-Meure led the way, and Tenguft covered the rear at his direction. Close behind Cretus came Clellendol and Flerdistar. At first, the Vfzyekhr walked with Tenguft, but as they entered the maze of tunnels, it unobtrusively moved forward to stay close to Cretus. It remained silent, and made no gestures or noticeable motions, yet it fell in behind Cretus quickly.

  For a time, they followed a route that was the exact reverse of the way they had come; Clellendol could verify this: the memory matched the present exactly. But soon, Cretus turned off into a darkened section, which began to change level rapidly. This passage seemed abandoned, judging from rubble and debris scattered along the floor. Their only light was a lantern carried by Flerdistar.

  Clellendol ventured, “This air is live; flowing. There is a draught. Therefore the passage is open, even though it seems closed-off, disused.”

  Cretus-Meure answered, half to himself, “I searched his mind and found that the way you came to the Durance Level had not intersected the Grand Corridor. This way is the ancient Guards way, and through it we should emerge at the main door. They will be looking for us higher up.”

  “Why? If I were them, I would strive to contain a party such as ours as far down as possible.”

  “They will think that I wish to hunt them down, and take possession of Cucany. They have built the higher structures, and so they will wish to meet me on their ground. It does not occur to mem that I only wish to get out of Cucany, and indeed all Incana, as fast as possible. By the time that falls into their minds, we will be at the door . . . this structure was made to keep invaders out, not escapees in, once they get to the door.”

  “Why didn’t you just leave, before?”

  “I had become more than a leader; I was a talisman for their continued survival. So they kept me busy, filled my hours with issues, loaded me down with hangers-on, sycophants, toadies, counsellors of the Reach of Incana, and the like. It is that way with all power; you set forces in motion which later come to direct you, begin controlling your actions . . . I saw that they would not move beyond Kepture, once they had it consolidated. That was all they wanted; the rest could come later, if their successors thought it worthwhile. They kept to the fine line, and by that I gradually became a prisoner . . . so I found this way, which is the trying of another time. Perhaps the situation now will be a matrix more readily bent to the original goal.”

  From the back of the line came a sibilant sound, from the Haydar girl. They fell silent, immediately.

  Tenguft came forward to join Cretus-Meure and Clellendol, her hawk profile casting predatory shadows on the ancient stone walls. Now that the loyalty problem was temporarily solved and there was no contest between her will and Cretus’, she had entered totally into the web of action. Now she whispered, but it was the oddest whisper Cretus had ever heard, for it had almost no volume, but it carried perfectly and none of the words were distorted. She said, “Above us, in the stone, men running, all together, in step. From behind, then overhead, and no longer do I hear them.”

  Cretus looked upward at the low ceiling, as if trying to see through it, remembering, trying to recover the layout of Dzoz Cucany. He said, after a moment, “It seems too early for them to reinforce the gate, but it could
be possible . . . I wouldn’t have given the old one enough credit to think that fast.”

  Clellendol ventured, “Perhaps he could have turned over matters to an underling with more initiative.”

  “Perhaps. In any event, the way we will come should lead us to the entry-corridor; and there will be only a few steps to the door.”

  “If things have not changed there, too, in a thousand years or more,” added Morgin. To this Cretus did not respond.

  There was more of the passage, much more going up and down, more of the narrow ways favored by the castledwellers of Incana, in many places partially blocked by rubble. In one place they had difficulty getting through, and they had to move some blocks fallen from the ceiling. Instead of leaving them lie, however, Tenguft carefully placed the moved blocks back on the pile of rubble, balancing them so they would fall at the slightest disturbance.

  The passage now ascended abruptly through a series of short, debris-filled stairwells set at odd angles, and terminated at a small landing fronting on a panel which appeared to slide in a set of grooves in the lintel, and the sill. There was no handle on this side, and the dust on the floor gave no evidence of ever having been disturbed.

  Cretus now whispered, “This appears to have been rebuilt since my day.”

  Morgin observed, “And not designed for exit, either.”

  Clellendol said, “Hst! Let me study this! Once we start to open it, it will have to be fast. That slab will make a lot of noise.”

  They would have continued to discuss the problem, save for the fact that at that moment a dull rumbling sounded up the stairwell behind them. Tenguft turned sharply, her mouth open, teeth gleaming. She drew a knife from beneath the folds of her robe. For a time there were some indistinct noises from below, but they soon faded.

  Cretus asked, “Accident?”

  Tenguft shook her head. “No. Something comes. Not soldiers. They rattle, and tread heavily. There was no metal-sound, but something live was moving after the blocks fell, I fear.”

  Cretus said, “Tenguft, you said you heard footfalls behind us and above us, but not ahead, yes?”

  “It ended above us, and a little ahead. Then there was a sliding sound, like stone grating on stone, like a great millwheel. Be still!”

  They all stood rigidly, not daring to breathe. Tenguft leaned out over the stairwell, ear turned down. Then she turned back, her pupils dilated to empty black pits and the muscles of her face working with fear.

  Cretus shook her roughly, and whispered sharply, “What do you hear, hunts-woman?”

  “In the darkness, something moving, making a shuffling sound, I hear the pad of its feet, the brushing of its fur on the stones, O bi leberim, ao Dehir sherda!” Her agitation was so great she lapsed at the end into the secret hunt-language of the Haydars.

  Cretus turned to Morgin. “Speak, Embasse. What does this mad-woman say!”

  Morgin drew his own knife. “She says a Korsor comes. If you have weapons, prepare to use them now, for we must kill it, or be killed by it.”

  Cretus exclaimed, “Ai! Now I know; somewhere they opened a cage, to let a night-devil track us. That is why these pits have no exit from this side. Prepare for madness and fight for your lives!”

  At the bottom of the stairs the darkness moved, and something immense and heavy and densely black solidified into form, a thing so large that when it turned the last curve of the stairs, the front seemed halfway up while the rear was still in darkness. It neither waited nor threatened, but climbed the stairs like a destroying demon, and in an instant was among them. They all shrank back to the edges of the landing, seeing only blurred impressions of parts of the creature: something heavy and strong, black-furred. There were eyes, and stabbing teeth, and claws. Cretus it sought, and Cretus it found immediately, following its nose. Cretus raised the blade, although he knew it to be futile; his blade would only prick it. And the Vfzyekhr stepped within the circle of the monster’s embrace and laid its hand on the throat of the Korsor, and the beast stopped.

  Now they could see it: the tiny Vfzyekhr standing before the Korsor, a mountain of darkness. Bearlike it was in general shape, but there were many differences. It was in build as supple as a panther, and there was no fat on it whatsoever. The fur was a dull, flat black with no shine at all, and the muzzle had none of the doglike heaviness of the true bear, but was smooth and tapered. The skull was low, spreading out behind the brow ridges, but it was large and spacious. The eyes were set deep under shelved ridges of bone, and were seemingly covered by an iridescent film which showed shifting colors in the lamplight like oil on a wet roadway. Its presence and scent filled the landing: a pungent, musky odor from its body, and a raw-meat odor from its jaws.

  The Vfzyekhr slowly turned, still touching the Korsor, and moved to the sliding panel. Allowing its touch to slide down the throat to the belly, still keeping contact, the Vfzyekhr caused somehow the Korsor to stand on its hind legs, and catch the edges of the panel in its claws. Then the panel began to slide open, enough to admit one human at a time. Then the small, white-furred creature slowly led the Korsor back to the stairs.

  Cretus recovered first. “Through the door, you idiots! It will turn the Korsor loose!”

  On shaking legs they filed from the landing through the slit, into an anteroom, and from there into the great hall, which stood empty. The guard room was immediately to their right, and beyond it, a simple wooden door with a bar across it. They ran to the empty room and slipped the bar from the door. Cretus hurried them out, through the narrow door, into the night. One by one they ran out into the darkness, down the stairs to the ground. There was wind, and a chill in the air.

  Tenguft came last to the door, and stood by Cretus. “The furry one is still within with the Korsor.”

  “What is that little one, that it can stop a Korsor with the touch of the hand?”

  “I know it not. The Spsom brought it with them from beyond the stars; it is their pet, or their slave, or perhaps something else we do not understand.”

  “What are Spsom?”

  “A spaceship came. It was theirs. Star-folk they are. And they hunt. They remained behind, in Ombur. My charge was that the little one was to be ‘as if people.’ It speaks not.”

  “Shall we leave it? I fear a Korsor, just as you, but I fear more that-which-stops-a-Korsor.”

  “I cannot. And, I do not know if it can be left.” The Vfzyekhr emerged from the guardroom, looked down the grand hall, and then joined them at the entrance. It came to Cretus-Meure and grasped his hand like a small child. Cretus lifted the creature effortlessly, and set it on his hip, cradling it under his arm. He looked down at it and said, “Little one, we are in great debt to you.” The Vfzyekhr said nothing, but it held on tightly. Cretus closed the door.

  Cretus mused, “I wonder what it did with the Korsor?”

  Tenguft answered, “We heard no noise, no cries of pain. Perhaps the Korsor now seeks other prey, for once it tracks, the hunt must culminate. How they pent it up is beyond my scope, but I . . .” She let the sentence trail off, looking sharply at Cretus. Something was wrong.

  Cretus-Meure staggered on the last step, and was now looking about in the darkness crazily. The Vfzyekhr squirmed, freed itself, and dropped to the ground, where it took no further notice of what was now obviously Meure Schasny, not Cretus the Scribe.

  The others continued walking into the darkness beyond the dim lighting of the porch of Dzoz Cucany. Tenguft took Meure by the elbow, bent and looked closely at his eyes, which were staring blankly into nothing. She said, softly, “Who are you . . . ?”

  “Meure . . . I think,” he began uncertainly. “I have been asleep, or not here, or something. I don’t know. Why are we outside?”

  She began, “There was something in the food, that made us dulled. I slept, but when I woke, I could not move of my own will. Then you came back, but it was not you. Another looked out of your eyes, and he named himself Cretus, the one they were trying to bring back. He spoke of
things which I know you do not know, so that I knew it was not you ... The others we awakened, and he led us through the stone to the door and we escaped. Now we must leave this place, before they recover and set the Korsor on us again.”

  “What is a Korsor?”

  “You do not remember it, or the slave of the Spsom stopping it?”

  “No. It’s . . . there is something there, but I can’t reach it. Like a dream you know you had, but you can’t remember.”

  “You must remember. You must try; Cretus could remember things from your memory. True, it seemed he had to work at it, but he could recall from your memory how we came through the castle to the place where we were.”

  “I feel something there, but it’s quiet now. I . . . talked with him, once, I remember that. He forced me to . . . then nothing. But now I can’t feel him like then. It’s like . . . something’s wrong with him. There is a presence there, but it’s veiled in layers I can’t see through.”

  Tenguft was still carrying her knife openly. Now she grasped the blade and handed it to Meure. “Here. You must take this.”

  “Why?”

  “I consulted the oracle when we were with my people. The vision was strong, not to be denied, one that foreshadowed my footsteps, my every act. I saw it, and could not but live it out.”

  “Can you not turn aside from a vision?”

  “You are an offworlder and not one of the people, therefore I take no offense at your question. I cannot even frame such a question in my mind. To turn from such a revealed course. . . . I dare not force those-who-see to become manifest, to clothe themselves in flesh; they change. But see: I saw my way, and I walked in that path, and now I am free of it, this minute. I did not know it before, but I knew it would come. Now I am free. Now you must go your way.”

  “What is my way?”