Table of Contents
Title
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
About the Author
Black Kath’s Daughter
A Novel
Richard Parks
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Portions of this book have appeared in revised form as:
“What Power Holds” - Dragon Magazine #209, 1994
“The Third Law of Power” - Dragon Magazine #224, 1995
“The First Law of Power” - Realms of Fantasy, June, 2001
© 2011 Richard Parks
Canemill Publishing
An Imprint of Canemill Wordcrafts, LLC.
CHAPTER 1
"There are Seven Laws of Power and, so far as we know, seven immortal Powers ruled by those Laws. Do not confuse the two, for the first is an insight into the nature of power, and the second is power itself. The first cares for nothing, and so is perfectly fair to all. The second cares about something very much, and that something is not you."
—Black Kath's Tally Book
The witch called “Black Kath” stopped to rest along the snowy mountain path. Again.
I don't remember it being quite so steep the last time.
She thought for a moment, remembering to her chagrin that the “last time” was five years before. Not surprising that she'd been in no hurry to return, considering what happened that last time. Yet here she was again, wondering what the new tragedy would be, and whether she was really as old and sick as she felt. Perhaps that was the tragedy. If so, Kath was sure she could deal with it; she'd been dealing with her advancing age and retreating health for years. She didn't think matters would be that simple.
It's Marta you should be worrying about.
Marta, her daughter, was why she was out in the blustery cold instead of warming her old bones by the fire where she belonged. Down at the bottom of the trail her servant Treedle would be tending a nice fire, making their camp ready for Kath's return. He might even have a kettle on for tea. Kath sighed. She could do with a cup of hot tea just then, or hot brandy wine, or hot anything. She pulled her cloak tighter, took a firmer grip on her staff, and kept climbing.
A raven sat waiting on a bit of dead wood clinging to the side of the mountain. "It's not much farther," he said, in a voice as harsh and rasping as one would expect from a raven.
Kath glared at him. "Bone Tapper, 'not much farther' is a different measure for one who can fly and one who cannot."
The wind ruffled the raven's feathers. "About seventy paces, then, before the steps leading to the gate." He rose into the air and flapped off into the crags. "Mind you stay away from the edge of the trail; this wind could blow you over," he shouted back just before it disappeared.
Kath didn't need the reminder. To her right was Mount Karsanmon. To her left was a drop of several hundred feet to the various piles of rubble on the outskirts of the town of Karsan. Separating the two was a stone path barely four feet wide at its best. As she wondered if she would ever feel her toes again, Kath also silently cursed whichever ancient cleric had picked such a dramatic location for the Shrine. She knew that they'd had little choice in the matter, tradition being what it was, but she could still find it in her heart to blame them just the same. Black Kath worked her way along where the path curved around a bend and finally reached the steps. She looked up the stone stairway and into the gateway to the Karsanmon Shrine of Amaet. For a moment she forgot her complaints.
The shrine building itself was just visible through the gate and relatively new, having been built no more than a generation before Kath's time, but the gate was infinitely older. No one living knew if it belonged to the original shrine or who made it. It was a simple thing, two rectangular pillars of granite supporting a carved crosspiece, all perfectly smooth with joints so tight you had to be really close before they were even visible. The ends of the crosspiece swept up on either side like the beginning of an upside down arch; both pillars and crosspiece had each in turn been quarried from a single piece of stone and worked so smooth there was no sign of hammer or chisel on any of them. Snow clung to the top of the gate and covered the steps leading up to them.
Kath put aside her admiration and concentrated on getting up the steps, bracing herself at every step up with her staff. Bone Tapper returned, and landed softly on her shoulder. "Your friend is still following you."
Kath nodded. "I suspected as much. Did you tell him to go away?"
"I did. He didn't."
"Funny. Usually when people get a warning delivered by a talking raven they tend to pay attention."
"He's a desperate fool," Bone Tapper replied. "You know the sort."
Black Kath nodded. She did indeed. Unfortunately. "Well, no sense fretting about it now. Please tell the Priestess I'm coming."
Bone Tapper started to fly, hesitated. "Should I ask her to send someone out to help you?"
"Not unless you want to regrow every feather on your body after I pluck them out. It's rather cold here at night."
"Daytime too. Very well, but I had to ask." Bone Tapper flapped away up through the gate.
By the time she reached the top of the steps, Kath was beginning to regret her pride just a bit. She leaned against the left lintel post of the gate, looking up a the massive sweep of stone above her as she rested. It occurred to her that, if she really wanted to know who had made the Gate, the stones themselves might speak. If she asked them the right way, of course. She decided against it. Some mysteries were not to be tolerated; some were not to be disturbed. Knowing the difference was as close to wisdom as Kath was willing to claim.
The design of the Karsanmon Shrine to Amaet was something like wisdom, too. At least, Kath would have liked to give the builders this much credit: they knew they couldn't match the simple elegance of the Gate, and so hadn't tried. The rest was not wisdom of any sort: the Shrine itself was gaudy, ostentatious, and had a bad tendency to attract fools.
It's bad enough I have to talk to Amaet. Should I have to talk to her daffy priestess, too?
It wasn't that there weren't other shrines, but it was a whim of the Power called Amaet that, if Black Kath wanted to speak to her, the old witch had to do it here. If Amaet wanted to speak to Kath, on the other hand, Amaet would do so wherever she damn well pleased. Life was unfair, and so were the Powers. Kath knew that, but she didn't have to like it. She waited until Bone Tapper returned to report. She sent him back to scouting and then, reluctantly, she entered the Shrine.
Aleeta came to greet her in person. She was a tall, elegant woman just approaching middle years. The Priestess's blue robe of office was arranged so carefully that Black Kath had to wonder how long it had taken her in front of the mirror to manage it.
It must be nice, Kath thought ruefully, to have so much time.
"Greetings, Honored of Amaet," she said.
"And to you, Black Kath of Lythos. This is a rare pleasure."
Not rare enough, to Kath's way of thinking. Still, the witch knew that anything she wanted or needed was going to cost, one way or another. Aleeta would have her due; she was no different from a Power in that regard.
"You must be half frozen, poor dear. I've a new recipe for mulled wine I was just trying out. Would you care to join me?"
&nb
sp; Kath shuddered inwardly at the “poor dear” comment, but there was no getting around Aleeta and they both knew it. Besides, hot mulled wine sounded very good just then. Kath followed Aleeta through the portal. Just beyond was the huge, echoing Sanctuary, graced at the far end with a gilt statue of Amaet no less than twenty feet tall.
Much larger than the old one. Kath smiled to herself. She remembered the previous statue very well.
"This is new, isn't it?"
Aleeta glanced back, smiled. "New? Hardly. When was the last time you visited us? Your daughter's Presentation ceremony wasn't it? Seven years ago?"
"Five," Kath said. The “Presentation Ceremony” hadn't been the real reason for that visit either. Kath most emphatically did not worship Amaet; their relationship was much more businesslike than that. Aleeta, knowing Kath's relatively frequent pilgrimages to the Shrine and being otherwise blissfully ignorant of just what it meant to be an Arrow Path magician, assumed otherwise. Kath was more than happy to allow Aleeta to keep that misapprehension, since it made Kath's occasional communing with Amaet seem only right and proper. Still, Kath still wasn't sure which excuse she'd use this time.
Aleeta smiled. "Well, there you are. A rare pleasure indeed. No, our old statue suffered a mishap and had to be replaced. The workmen had a jolly time bringing the new one up the pass, let me tell you. Worth it, though. Isn't it splendid?"
"It's very...impressive," Kath said. "Doesn't look anything like her, though."
Aleeta stopped, then turn back to Black Kath with a puzzled look on her face. "What did you say?"
Kath could have kicked herself, if she had been younger and far more flexible. She had forgotten the ironic truth: the High Priestess of Amaet had never actually seen Amaet. "Nothing, nothing at all. Merely a poor joke for which I crave your pardon, Honored One. It was a long trip and I'm very tired."
Aleeta waved it away, magnanimously. "Of course. Now that you mention it yourself, I have to say you aren't looking well at all."
Kath's smile was all teeth. Lovely of you to point out the obvious. Yet you've given me a notion. They arrived at the Priestess's private chambers, if anything more gilt and opulent than all the rest of the shrine, and that was saying something indeed. Out of respect for her guest Aleeta poured the wine herself, dismissing her servants.
Black Kath sipped her portion with honest enjoyment. Aleeta's failures as a priestess and a wit were legion, but Kath did have to admit the woman knew her wine.
"Your observation about my health was, I'm afraid, fairly accurate. Yes, this has been a trying year for many reasons. That's why I've come to the Shrine, to make an offering and, perhaps, take some brief time to contemplate."
Aleeta nodded. "Ah. I thought it might be something of the sort. Many do come here seeking the healing of the Goddess."
Kath wondered how many had actually received it. More than a few would say so, probably. Desperate people could convince themselves of anything, just like Kath's human shadow that Bone Tapper had been following. Kath had learned to avoid desperation when possible, both in others and in herself. She wouldn't be able to avoid this one; he'd made that clear enough.
Kath sighed. One fool at a time.
"You'll be wanting the Sanctuary, of course," Aleeta said.
"Actually, I was thinking of the Grotto," Kath said.
Aleeta frowned. "That damp hole in the rock? What for?"
"Call it an old woman's whim. My mother brought me to the Grotto before the new Shrine was completed. It reminds me of her."
"That's rather sweet," Aleeta said, then leaned forward and whispered like one sharing a conspiracy. "Don't worry-- as Priestess of Amaet, I wouldn't dream of telling anyone."
"Too kind," Kath said. "It wouldn't do to let the world know that Black Kath of Lythos is a human being after all."
If Aleeta sensed anything in Black Kath's tone she didn't show it. Kath finished her wine as quickly as good manners allowed and let Aleeta lead her through the sanctuary. They passed by the big gaudy statue of Amaet and through the rear chambers of the Shrine, finally arriving at a plain stout wooden door, braced with black iron. It could have been the door to a storage cellar by appearance. Aleeta unlocked it with a large iron key hanging from her belt.
"Go with Amaet," Aleeta said.
As if I have a choice, Kath thought, but she said nothing more than “thank you” and waited for Aleeta to leave. When she was finally alone, Kath gathered her cloak about her once more, pulled the door open and entered the Grotto.
Someone seeing the Grotto for the first time would naturally think they had left the Shrine entirely and stepped out some unused service entrance by mistake. Kath knew better; this was the real Shrine. The gilt pile behind her, for all its pretensions, was nothing more than a glorified inn. The Grotto was open to the sky, little more than a crack in the stone but, if one thought of the Gate, it quickly became clear that this was why the Gate had been built, why it pointed the way to the path leading here. This was the sacred space that the Gate's presence marked. It was, in short, the place that mattered.
There was a large stone bowl near the end of the crack, placed before a weathered stone statue of Amaet in Judgment, her crossed arms bearing both the ax and the apple blossom.
"You'd think, after so much time, just once I might get the apple instead of the ax?"
No answer, but of course she hadn't expected one. Yet. Kath reached in her purse and produced one coin of gold for the offering bowl. The coin wasn’t an offering, it was payment in advance, assuming she wanted to ask a question. She was already in Amaet's debt far more than her ability—or time—to pay. She tossed the coin into the bowl, listening to it clink and rattle around the smooth curved stone before settling silently in the bottom.
"I have come, Amaet."
No sooner had Kath spoken the name than Amaet was there. That is, first she wasn't, and then she was. There was no flash of fire or lightning or rolling thunder to announce her presence. Now the Power—or the Goddess, depending—called Amaet stood with her right hand on the edge of the bowl, radiantly beautiful as only she could be when she chose. Her hair was blacker than Calyt ink, her robe whiter even than the snow that rimmed her offering bowl, and she glowed as if her insides were on fire.
Too bad Aleeta is missing this, Black Kath thought. She'd soil that lovely blue robe. Black Kath considered it worth at least one piece of gold to see that.
WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE?
Kath blinked. "I don't understand."
IMMINENT MORTALITY. DYING. DEATH. I ASSUMED YOU KNEW.
Kath took a long slow breath, let it go. "I thought as much. I didn't know for certain."
THEN YOU WEREN'T PAYING ATTENTION.
"I didn't come here to talk about me, Amaet."
WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE?
Black Kath would long ago have asked some friendly deity for patience if there was a single one she considered friendly. The time for patience, however, was long past. She wondered, too, if there was something about immortality that made one tend to be cryptic in every conversation; perhaps the Powers' patience was so immense because they tried everyone else's. Try as she might, Black Kath couldn't remember any Power that would ever willingly get to the point, or at least to the point that she wanted them to get to.
"I concede that the reason I came here and why I am here may be two different things, Amaet. I only know the one. I won't deepen my debt by asking, but you can tell me the other if you wish."
YOU DIDN'T BRING THE LITTLE ONE. I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT.
"Her name is Marta, and she's not so little now. She's almost seventeen. She's what I wanted to talk to you about."
Amaet sat down on the edge of the offering bowl. That is, she crossed her legs in front of her and seemed to perch there. Except she wasn't really touching it, Black Kath could plainly see; she hovered a few inches above the snow. Black Kath wasn't surprised to see that the snow there was melting.
INDEED? WHAT DO YOU WIS
H TO SAY?
"I want Marta's freedom."
YOU KNOW MY PRICE.
Black Kath shuddered, slightly, but when she spoke to Amaet again her voice was clear and strong. "I accepted the Debt as my mother did before me. As a follower of the Arrow Path I owe you, and so I must serve on your command. Yet even that is not absolute; you may not compel me in matters not related to that service. Marta is one of those matters."
THE NATURE OF THE DEBT IS THAT WHAT REMAINS OF IT WILL FALL ON HER WHEN YOU DIE, AS IT DID WHEN YOUR MOTHER PASSED. MARTA WILL CHOOSE AS YOU DID LONG AGO. PERHAPS YOU HOPED SHE WOULD TURN OUT OTHERWISE?
Kath had indeed hoped for that, and acted accordingly. She had been wrong, and remained wrong even when she had to deny the evidence of her own eyes. Kath wasn't sure she'd ever forgive herself for that, but she hoped Marta would forgive her, once she understood the enormity of her mother's mistake. And she knew Marta would understand, some day. Kath didn't need Amaet to tell her that. Marta's curiosity was already leading her into dangerous ways. Black Kath had done what she could, but her time and Marta's freedom were fast ending.
"You could refuse her," Kath said, barely above a whisper. "You could forgive the Debt."
ALL THINGS HAVE THEIR PRICE. EVEN MERCY. BOW TO ME, BLACK KATH OF LYTHOS.
"You would own me," Kath said.
I OWN YOU NOW.
Kath shook her head. "I am in your debt. That is not the same thing."
TRUE. BOW TO ME AND SHE WOULD BE FREE. SHE COULD MARRY, AND RAISE GENERATIONS UNCONCERNED WITH THE LAWS OF POWER AND THE WAYS OF THE POWERS. SHE MIGHT EVEN BE HAPPY.
"You ask for what I cannot give," Kath said. Her eyes were glistening but her gaze was steady. “Not even for Marta.”
Amaet's sigh could have made a rock despair. NO ROOM FOR PRETTY LIES. OUR WORLDS ARE POORER FOR IT. I KNEW YOU WOULD REFUSE, FOR WHAT LITTLE THAT IS WORTH. YOUR MOTHER DID, THOUGH IT TORE HER HEART NO LESS THAN IT TEARS YOUR OWN.
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