by Sarah Zettel
She saw herself beside a golden cage, her arms lifted to the sky. She saw Father looking out of her eyes and calling the Phoenix down. She saw the Land of Death and Spirit open up around her. She saw a woman and a man holding hands in a little boat on a wide sea.
What is this? Anna, what are you doing?
“Nothing, Father. I swear.” Before her, the old man only swayed back and forth, lost in his visions or his madness, she couldn’t tell which.
Stop this at once!
“I can’t,” Anna cried. I can’t help seeing.
These are shadows and fables. Your power is confused by the presence of the Holy Father.
But she didn’t believe him and she felt his realization that she knew he lied and Anna bit her lip. She did not want this. She wanted to obey, to believe, to be dutiful and good. She did not want to see by the power of a madman. She closed her eyes, but she knew it would do no good. While the Holy Man called the visions, Anna must see.
She saw Mae Shan holding a demon at spear’s length, a real one this time, not a ghost of ash.
Then, the Holy Father shook himself, laughing and crying all at once at whatever he had seen.
In the next heartbeat he frowned hard at Anna. “No, no, no,” he spat. “It will not do. You are too much for her. Come, come, Daughter. Learn now the craft and power you are heir to.”
The old man got himself to his feet and scuttled like some huge crab toward the back of the cave, beyond the reach of the firelight. Something lay there in the dark on the stony floor. Anna did not want to move toward it. She didn’t want to see anything more this madman had to show her. Father’s anger washed through her, and tears began to trickle from her eyes. He didn’t wait, he didn’t even ask, he just took her body and moved it forward until she stood beside the Holy Father, and looked down at what he had to show.
It was a man of glass, laid out straight on the bed of stone. It was perfect in every detail, down to the lines on its knuckles and the shape of its nails. It was dressed simply, in a loose brown tunic and trousers. Its eyes were shut, but the artisan had even given it eyelashes.
“It was made many centuries ago, when we were great.” Spittle flecked the Holy Father’s lips. “See it now? See the fire, the earth, and water that went into its making. See the blood and the metals that painted it and made it whole.”
And Anna did see. She saw the fire in the great crucible, she saw the sorcerers crowded around with their buckets and their knives.
Stop, please. I don’t want this.
Father paid no attention.
“Strike it, hear it ring.” The old man knocked his knuckles against the statue’s torso, and it rang like a bell. “Does it not call beautifully to you?”
Yes, said Father in the back of her mind. Yes.
“Lay your hands here, Daughter.” He indicated the statue’s heart. Anna obeyed. What else was she to do? The glass was smoothly contoured underneath her palms. It felt exactly like a man’s chest, only cold and hard as death and ice.
The seer picked up a knife. It too was made of glass, but this glass was as black as coal. The edge was so keen, Anna could barely see it in the dim and flickering light. He lifted his left hand just long enough for Anna to see it was thick and twisted, not only with age and calluses, but with scars. His face was almost peaceful as he drove the tip of his knife into the tip of his first finger, setting the blood free to run in scarlet threads down his hand.
Anna felt the magic this place held twist and shiver. She felt the blood call it and it obeyed, eagerly. The old man murmured his charm, as lightly as a woman would hum a lullaby. The magic here was so rich and so ready, he needed no more force than that. He leaned across the statue and began smearing its face with his blood. Slowly, Anna saw that he was painting eyes on it.
Anna’s heart tore open and she screamed, falling to her knees. Father rushed out of her with all the breath in her lungs.
The statue’s eyes opened, and they were Father’s eyes. Its hand moved, and it was Father’s hand. He sat up and pulled his knees up under him, slowly, stiffly, like someone waking from a long sleep. Anna felt her eyes bulge in their sockets. It was Father. Truly. He was perfect in every way, just as she had seen him in the Land of Death and Spirit. For all her staring, she could see nothing false about him, except the tiniest glimmer in the light, that might have been a sheen of perspiration on his light brown skin.
“Father,” she whispered, reaching out to touch him. To her relief, his skin felt warm beneath her fingertips, not cold like the glass.
The seer was grinning. Anna tried not to look at him.
Father moved his lips experimentally a few times, then he spoke. “This is not life.”
“No.” The seer shook his head. “That is beyond what even the greatest of us could give. But you need no longer exhaust your daughter with your presence.” He turned the smile to her, and she saw all his black gums. “She needs to be nurtured and cared for, not used up.”
“No.” Father looked at her, but there was nothing kind in his gaze. Anna told herself it was his new eyes. He was not used to them yet.
He had a body of his own now. Now he would be able to be with her as she had always dreamed. They would have a house, and he would teach her all the things Master Liaozhai hadn’t yet, and they would live together for a hundred years if they wanted to. It would be all right. She would be a good daughter, and he would never have to hit her anymore. He was only angry with her because she did not understand the things that were important to him. That must be it. She would learn, though. She would.
“Now.” The seer sank back onto his haunches. “We must talk, your father and I, of such things as are not fit for the ears of one not yet bound by her apprenticeship oaths.”
Father gestured to her. The motion was fluid, but the smile that accompanied it was brittle. “Go outside, Anna. Play for a bit. Stay in sight of the cave.”
“Yes, Father.” She was glad enough to obey. She wanted to be near him, but she also wanted to be away from the seer. She did not like his greedy, greasy looks, and she did not like his casual use of blood. Father did not truly mean to apprentice her to him. He would explain that when he was finished.
She remembered to bow, and hurried out into the sunshine.
Anna breathed the fresh air and stretched her shoulders with a feeling of relief. The cave was an unwholesome place, she was sure. She was not surprised that the Holy Father’s mind wandered swimming constantly in so much power that was unformed and unused. Master Liaozhai would never have done such a thing. Perhaps, if he seemed in a good mood, she could talk to Father about it. Perhaps if the seer moved, he would get better, and not be so crooked and … so frightening.
Anna shivered and set out to explore to get away from the feeling. Father’s release had been painful, but now she felt much better, as if she had put down something heavy she’d been carrying for too long.
She found she didn’t want to think about that either.
It looked like there was a small plateau above the cave mouth. She could probably see out to the ocean from up there. Picking her way carefully on her bare feet, Anna climbed the slope. It was good to just be alone for a while under the trees, to see the mosses and the mushrooms, to collect the leaves of some of the trees, to see how the rivers of ancient rock, all speckled black and grey ran between the trunks of trees that were as crooked as the seer’s arms.
Father had once told her that in ancient times the gods had cracked the mountain open so that it poured living fire down its slopes and melted the stone and sand it touched, and in this way showed the people of Tuukos the properties of glass and the secrets of its making.
She reached the plateau and stood up straight on the shelf of ancient stone. Her skin became gooseflesh in the cold wind that blew down from the mountaintop, but she didn’t head back to the shelter of the trees. She had been right. From here she could see the long green and grey slope of the mountain like a quilted skirt, with the ocean spr
ead below it as clear and blue as the sky above. She could even see a little boat with a snow-white sail bobbing on the waves, and just make out the three people moving about on its deck.
Anna froze. She had seen this boat in just this way before, in the split second before the Silent Lands had shifted for her sight and shown her that the boat was occupied by Mae Shan.
Mae Shan had followed them out of the Land of Death and Spirit. Mae Shan had found them, after she’d … after what had happened. Anna remembered the warmth of the blood on her hands. The breeze from the ocean smelled like the blood had. She wanted to run down to Mae Shan, to explain to her that it had been an accident, really, that Father had been afraid and needed to escape. He hadn’t meant it, not really.
Father will want to know she’s here. The thought sent a jolt through Anna. He didn’t like Mae Shan and would not be glad she was here. She hadn’t found a way yet to explain to him her bodyguard was just doing her duty, that they were friends, that Mae Shan was just worried about her, like Father himself worried.
But if Mae Shan found them before she had a chance to talk to Father, or if Father found out she was here and then realized Anna hadn’t told him … anything could happen. Anna bit her lip. It would be best to tell him. He’d want to see the boat and she could bring him up here where the seer couldn’t hear them and then she could explain things properly to him.
Anna jumped back down onto the slope and ran to the cave mouth. She stopped herself just before the line of shadow inside. She would not run in like a barbarian. She would walk in, humble and composed, and speak in a polite manner. She would show Father that she did know how to behave properly.
Anna smoothed her rumpled coat and folded her hands neatly. Then, taking small, tidy steps, she walked into the cave, following the sound of men’s voices. The unused, omnipresent power was as stifling as the heat, but she gritted her teeth against it. She would not complain. She was not a baby.
Anna stopped while she was still in shadow. She would wait for a pause in their conversation, as was polite, and then she would excuse herself and ask to talk to Father. That was the right way to do things.
Their voices echoed oddly off the stone walls making it difficult to hear the individual words at first, which was fine with Anna, she did not want to be accused of eavesdropping, but gradually they cleared, and she could understand that they were talking about Father’s new body and the nature of the spell that held his spirit confined. Before she could decide whether or not to move back a few steps so as not to overhear anything she wasn’t supposed to, Father said, “You should not have taken me from her. I cannot control her so well now.”
No. That was not what she heard. She had misunderstood that.
“It was necessary,” the seer replied. “You would have killed her shortly, or driven her mad.”
“I would not.” I love her! She’s my daughter! “I need her.”
“You are dead. Your needs are greater than can be met by the living.”
“I was very close to life with her.”
“And that is why you came very close to draining it away. You are of more use as you are now, and she is in less danger. There has not been one such as she born in a thousand years. She will bring us to greatness once we have achieved our freedom.”
She should leave now. She should go back outside. She should run down the mountainside and back up again until she exhausted herself and forgot what she heard.
“I failed you, Holy Father, and I’m sorry.”
“You did not fail. You died before the completion of your work. That is why I have brought you back here.”
“How may I serve?”
“By finishing what you have begun. You will cage the Firebird.”
“Holy Father, if I had that knowledge, I do not have the means. Mortal breath is needed.”
“It will be supplied.”
“Not Anna …”
“Oh, no, no, my son. Her mother.”
“Bridget? Bridget is here?”
“She comes. You will call the Firebird and shape the cage and she will seal it with her life, as her father did before her.”
“Holy Father, the danger is severe.”
“There is no danger too great for this. We will be free! I will be free!”
“Without question.”
“The woman will give her life gladly, because if she does not, her child will die.”
“Yes, Holy Father.”
Moving as carefully and quietly as she knew how, Anna slipped out of the cave. She wanted to be sick. She couldn’t even think, or see straight. She didn’t know what to do besides run down the mountainside, crying as she ran.
Kalami sat cross-legged in front of the holy seer of Tuukos listening with both delight and trepidation as the ancient man gave his prophecy.
“The old ways will emerge from darkness. The new light will be ours. I see it even now.” The seer’s eyes grew bright and distant. His reed-thin body rocked back and forth and his lips drew back over his naked gums. Kalami waited until he could wait no more. Stillness came hard to him in this new way of being. He would have thought it would be easier, but with the stillness came fear from deep within. Fear of the darkness and the change, the teeth and the eyes. He felt hollow, a shell within a shell. He needed motion to supply what heart and lungs and blood had once given him.
When he could stand it no longer, Kalami said, “It will be as you say. But forgive me, Holy Father, how will we know how to create the cage?”
“When the dowager was gone, they thought to seal up the chamber where she had done her work, but a servant of the True Blood was there first. She placed in it a poppet and a witch’s eye, and I was able to see and to understand. You will receive my instruction.”
Kalami bowed his head. “Yes, Holy Father.” Finally, finally, I will do this thing. I will save my people after all. I will set all to rights, and then I will have payment for my death. Yes. I will have that too.
The seer looked at him as if he could read his thoughts. Perhaps he could. Kalami had no true notion of the magics that could be called up from this place. He tried to move his mind back to more pious thoughts.
The seer just cackled. “Call the child back now. It is time she hear the role she is to play.”
“Holy Father …” Kalami did not want to speak of this, but there was little choice. “There may be difficulties. There is much my daughter has not been told.”
“That was your mistake then. If you had prepared her, there would not be this trouble now.”
Again, Kalami bowed his head, accepting the rebuke. “As you say, Holy Father. I will make sure she is ready to hear her future.”
Kalami rose, and walked to the mouth of the cave. He wore this new body lightly. He had thought it would be heavier than flesh and bone, but to his surprise, he found he had to force himself to move slowly. His senses were dull, colors dim, scents vague, and of touch there was almost nothing at all. This was not life.
What’s more, it was vulnerable. Every spell that could be cast, could be broken, especially by the one who shaped the original spell, and in this poppet, as ancient and powerful as its shaping was, he did not have the sword and shield of Anna’s power instantly available to him. At any time, the seer, the Holy Father, could cast him out and leave him with nowhere to go but back into the Land of Death and Spirit, where Baba Yaga waited for him, and the Vixen’s sons ran freely.
No. He would not stay as he was. He would cage the Firebird, and he would use Bridget to do it with pleasure. After that, he would look into Bridget’s eyes as she died and after that … well, life could not be granted, true, but life could be claimed.
He would not have long to remain like his. The seer had seen that Anna was the future of Tuukos, but had he seen clearly whose soul was within Anna’s body and wielding her power?
Outside, the sun shone, but his eyes did not need to blink. The mossy clearing before the cave mouth was as dim as twilight to him, although the sun
was still a full handspan above the horizon.
“Anna!” he called. His voice sounded too smooth, too light to his new ears. “Anna!”
There was no answer. He looked about him with his weak eyes and called again with his weak voice. “Anna! Come here!”
But there was still no answer.
Damn the girl, this was not the time for carelessness, or for mischief. With the other understanding he had to impart, he would make sure she knew better than to disobey his instructions in future. He had thought her instructors in Hung-Tse had taught her better.
Kalami began a search of the woods nearby, but he did not find Anna anywhere. He called and called with a voice that did not grow weak or hoarse, but there was no answer.
Damn the girl! But worry overrode the anger and Kalami returned to the cave and the seer’s chamber.
“Holy Father …” he began, dropping to one knee.
The seer was bent over his gazing bowl. Fresh blood dripped from his brow and his thumbs.
“She has fled you.”
“Yes, Holy Father. Where …”
The seer’s cackling laughter echoed all around the cave. “Down to the shore, down to meet the ones who she believes will save her from her father’s wickedness.” The seer looked up, grinning to show all his diseased gums as if that were the greatest of all jokes. “Her mother comes on the tide, with the bodyguard Mae Shan and the sorcerer Sakra. You should go down with her to meet them and escort them here.”
Kalami got to his feet once more. He felt warmer than he had since he returned to the living world. “Yes, Holy Father.”
“You will need this.” The seer held up his obsidian knife.
Kalami closed his fingers around it and for a moment felt the power that filled the cave reshape itself around the blade. This knife had known the greatest sacrifice before. He placed it reverently in his pocket.
Kalami left the cave. He stood poised for a moment on the mountainside. Then, he began to run. He ran fast as a mountain sheep, fast as a horse. He flew down the slope, without weight, without impediment. He ran like thought, like the first flash of sunlight in morning. He laughed as he ran, until the ground leveled out, and he saw Anna wading through a thick patch of fern. She must have been very tired, for she did not run. She trudged.
