Second Sight: Second Tale of the Lifesong

by Greg Hamerton

  They topped a rise and the wizard stiffened beside them.

  “There’s what we’ve been looking for, all this time,” Black Saladon announced.

  Prince Bevn and Gabrielle followed his gaze. Reed huts spiralled outward around a great red obelisk, a carved stone that looked like a split tooth. Many were just wooden frameworks, lattice structures of saplings or planks, unfinished, but even from this distance, Bevn could make out the figures swarming over the constructions, and pilgrims, staggering through the activity with their fluttering red pennants, driven ever onward to find the promise.

  “That’s Kragha?” asked Bevn. “I thought it was a town.”

  “Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t, but it’s always at the final gate to Turmodin.”

  “How can it only sometimes be a town?” Bevn protested.

  “It depends how long it has had to grow,” answered Saladon. “I’d say it has been on that slope for all of three or four days, but it’s been Kragha for many many years. Things pass both ways through Kragha. A lot of interesting things come to Kragha through that gate, and the closer you can build to the marker stone, the more risk you’ll run, but the greater your reward. Sometimes they send raiding parties into Turmodin. It’s very exciting to live in such a town, especially when it’s on the move.”

  “The town moves?”

  “The big guy moves the discontinuity. The people move quickly thereafter.”

  “Kragha wasn’t here a few days ago?” Bevn asked.

  Saladon shook his head. “The old site would have been wherever the gate rested previously. It’ll be a ghost town now, whatever’s left of it after the building strippers.”

  “But that’s crazy!” Bevn objected. “Why break down a whole town and move it?”

  “Change can be good,” said Saladon. “The Kraghans get a chance to build again, exactly as they would like, so it’s always very new, improved with each generation, or so they think, and it’s not just the buildings that are broken apart and rebuilt. All the families, all the couples and brothers and sisters, all ties are broken when the town is moved. There’s a lot of excitement going on up there. They have a culture of exchange and regeneration. Right now it must be at its peak.”

  “Beyond this gate we get to Turmodin? I get to meet the Sorcerer?”

  “Yes indeed, unless we run into trouble.”

  Bevn felt his guts tighten. The Sorcerer’s Pillar. They would be there at last.

  THE FOURTH MOVEMENT

  THE TWIST OF CHAOS

  Where are we now, with all our deeds

  behind us like the planted seeds?

  How long can we reap this crop

  before our life comes to a stop?

  —Bard Melic

  40. THE BREAKING OF THE WORLD

  “They built themselves a golden cage

  and threw away the key.

  Who is left within the wilds,

  to come and set them free?”—Zarost

  There came a time in Oldenworld when even the winter was driven away. Every street had flax-domes, every town was contained within a weather-ward, every city was shielded, sheltered and regulated, provided it paid its triple taxes to the Three Kingdoms. No more the snows driving hard out of the Winterblades, no more the rain slapping against the powdered and painted faces. Rain was controlled, diverted, guided into channels that spread like veins over the lands. Sometimes the rain was allowed to wash the streets at night, when the good folk were abed. Sometimes the winter chill was allowed to refresh the stale and smoke-filled air; for the most part it was thrown back upon the Winterblades, to maintain the temperature equilibrium. As the cities became hazy and pleasant, the mountains and outlands became harsher. In summer the store of ice and snow was tapped to send cooling breezes upon the sweltering Moral streets. These services were charged for as well, and so the wizards grew wealthier and more powerful upon the shoulders of the kings.

  They devised a system of ownership in the Three Kingdoms, a boon of freedom for everyone, or so it seemed when it was introduced. Land, something that previously belonged to no one, was awarded to every citizen, a portion according to their station, with a small annual tithe attached to it. The people were ecstatic, and in their joy they did not conceive how such a system could come to rule them. Borders were defined, limits pegged into the ground with static-staves, and citizens took ownership of the earth. Stands were defined on maps. Larger titles were awarded to those of noble birth, or those who were deemed noble enough by their associations or appearance or cunning. A feverish time of politics ensued, with lies, schemes and the transferral of favours occupying the courts of Kingsmeet and spilling out to every borough and county in the Three Kingdoms. Once land was defined as something one could own, everyone wanted more of it. It seemed a person’s worth could be measured by how much of the earth one could call one’s own, regardless of the fact that when one died one would take none of it with one. Strange land-crimes began. People who lied about their origins, disowning their own fathers and mothers; documents that were forged; even wizards who were bribed to move static-staves from their defined positions. And murders, strange disappearances and accidents, impersonations, all centred on the new land documents, until the wizards devised the blood-deeds, an infallible proof of lineage. Only direct descendants of land-owners could inherit the land. Those who died without blood relatives forfeited their lands to the state, to be bought again by other nobles.

  And so Order was enhanced; the kings and nobles became wealthier, and the wizards more powerful.

  As the wealth flowed, it defined the classes more clearly between the deepening divides; the nobility who owned the land, the traders who had the savvy to pay rents and organise labour and still turn a profit; and the workers, who had ever less hope of escaping from their lowering position, as the price of property and food and travel rose, with the price of the annual tithe on their lands. In the end they were forced to sell their land to survive. The system of freedom slowly enslaved more and more of those who supported it—the foundation, the working class.

  Then came the laws, written by the nobles, to restrict what the other classes might do, and where, and when, and how they would live, what education they were entitled to, whom they would marry, and where they may travel. Even the colours and fabrics they would wear in public were identified, to better declare their status. Ever more their lives were defined, and those who dissented were dealt with harshly. The enforcer class grew and grew, as more rules required enforcing. With their slotted blackvision visors the enforcers inspected every corner of Oldenworld. They became a latent presence much supported by the wealthy, much feared by the poor, for it seemed there was always some new law they had broken and some fine or tax to be paid.

  Within each class, subclasses formed, as the citizens of Oldenworld became ever more stratified. One was defined by one’s rank, and so were one’s descendants. Life was ruled by Order.

  And so it was in Oldenworld, until a man defied the system, a man who owned nothing, who could claim no royal blood, who demanded no reward for his efforts. He had no title to land; he did not wish to earn it. He had no allies, and no friends. He had nothing to lose.

  Ametheus—he would be blamed by the wizards, cursed by the nobles and accused over many graves, but some of the poorest could understand. They knew his rage. They would become his army, swarming after the wildfire strikes and the searching spells, running through the cities to ransack and rape, to take back what had been taken from them. Once they saw that they could steal wealth instead of have it stolen from them, there was no going back, because upon their shoulders rested the ordered society of Oldenworld. Those who had risen up high plunged the furthest.

  But Chaos was impermanent, and the rewards were short-lived, for without Order there was no system of wealth, there was no industry and trade, there was no system of reward, no privileges of class to steal, no value in the ownership of fallow land. The poor became poor and desperate again, but their bell
igerence born of Order remained. They would never go back to the old ways. Order was enslavement; they would rather be free. Free to be changed by the wildfire, free to forget the rules they had been taught, free to fight. And so Chaos reigned in the age of Ametheus, and Oldenworld was ruined.

  _____

  The images swirled in the roof of the chamber: rivers that ran red; forests that were on fire; storms of insects that flew in a plague, stripping the vegetation wherever they touched down. A monster passed through a swamp, parting the green scum as it moved by, eyeing Tabitha with a hungry stare. It felt to Tabitha as if the scenes might fall down upon her at any moment and immerse her in their horror.

  “The nodes of Chaos, they are at the heart of everything,” said Ethan, following her gaze. “See how restless they are in their containment? They search on their own when brother Seus is not using them. They reflect places where change is most active. They are the pulse of this time.”

  “Why must you change everything?” asked Tabitha. “Why can’t you just leave the world as it is?”

  “Because Seus has the power to change it.”

  “But you are ruining the world!”

  “Some things are beyond saving,” Ethan replied. “What’s the point, anyway? We’re all going to die down here. I may have a body that ages at a strange pace, but Seus has seen our end, he knows we are all dead in the end. We are dead! Nothing we do will have any consequence, everything will be gone. We will all end in dust when my father brings the Apocalypse. If that’s how we end, then let it come sooner than later, because everything we do is a waste of time.”

  “How do you know it is true?”

  “Oh, my father has told me, over and over and over, and brother Seus has told me. You can ask Seus yourself, if you don’t believe me. So we must spread Chaos. The more we can free, the weaker the bonds in the Order of the universe and the closer it is to the day of the Apocalypse. We are very, very close now. My father will come, and then at last we can all burn.”

  “But you could stop it! You could stop breaking things, and maybe the Apocalypse won’t come.”

  “What, allow Order to return? That will just bring slavery and injustice. They will find ways to prolong, protect and cosset their lives, and that will just prolong this stupid existence. No, Seus brings freedom to the world. I won’t stop him doing that.”

  Tabitha was incredulous. “Freedom? You call this freedom? Your wildfire has destroyed everything. How is being altered into a freak a way of finding freedom?”

  “You’re-you’re seeing things from the wrong side! When you see those changes, it is people’s spirit breaking through. Brother Seus says it carries the genetics of whatever it strikes. It recycles, recombines. A man, who is really more like a dog, will become a dog. A woman who is poisonous liar will become a snake. A man who thinks himself a monster will become one, but a man who dreams of flying will take to the skies, and a person like you who sings will probably become a songbird. Don’t you think that is a special thing? To live out your last years in the form you dream of, instead of wishing it and never finding it before you die?”

  “But most people die from the wildfire!”

  “Some of them can’t handle the change,” he said sadly. “I don’t think you see what brother Seus is trying to do.”

  “Just because people have yearnings doesn’t mean they want to change.”

  “Exactly! That’s why he helps them. Why should things stay the same? The wildfire encourages change, invention, alteration. You must know. You have been touched by it.”

  “We don’t have wildfire in my homeland. I was never touched by chaos.”

  “Yes you were. You must have been altered. No ordinary person has your powers.”

  “I became a wizard in my homeland,” Tabitha asserted. “I was sheltered before. I was never touched ... ”

  “Are you sure?” Ethan eyed her critically.

  Touched by the silver dust, the dream, that afternoon, under the spreading tree at Phantom Acres. There had been a starburst, and a trickling of the dust had touched her.

  “I—”

  That was the moment when she had begun to hear the Lifesong; the moment when her power had been awakened. Then the wizard’s ring had been drawn to her, and she had begun to learn at an accelerating rate.

  Chaos.

  It was within her.

  She was the way she was because of Ametheus.

  “You were begun with Chaos,” Ethan asserted.

  Tabitha had never considered the possibility. She might have a dual nature, and she was not the only one, she realised. If the book she read was true.

  “And you were begun with Order,” said Tabitha.

  Ethan looked immediately distressed, and his eye began to wobble. “I have no Order in me!” he shouted. “They t-t-tortured me with it, but I f-fought them off! I d-ddon’t have Order in me. I don’t!”

  “They say you were divided by an Ordered spell, in your mother’s womb. The wizards showed the book to me.”

  “Hah! Wizards t-t-trust too much in their books. Even if what was w-written is a lie, they b-b-believe it. Which of the idiots th-th-thought they knew enough about me to w-w-write a book? Fools! Nobody knows m-mme!”

  “She was called Annah Nerine Good.”

  Ethan froze. “Annah?” His eye grew moist. “Annah?” He wrung his hands. “Do you have it? Do you have the book?”

  “It was in the Gyre Temple.”

  Ethan put his hand to his mouth. “Oh Annah! That is d-destroyed then, there are only the sh-sh-shards left.” He looked immensely sad. “They killed her for her wisdom. She was too brave. Oh, I wish… I wish I’d seen that book! I had no idea… a whole book, about me?”

  Tabitha didn’t know what to say.

  “Let me show you how Chaos works,” offered Ethan, “maybe then you will understand.” He shuffled away from Tabitha a few steps. “I will need to wake Seus to do this. Be careful now, he can be tricky.”

  “No, Ethan, don’t—” It was too late. Before Tabitha could stop him, Ethan stiffened then his head swung around, and Seus became visible, cold eyes alert. The prescient aspect of Ametheus cocked his head like a startled raven.

  “Who is this?”

  “Our n-new ap-p-prentice,” answered Ethan from the side, his face only partly visible to Tabitha. “D-don’t you remember? Here, I’ll rem-m-member for you. See? She is learning h-how to spread C-c-chaos.”

  “Apprentice! What need do we have of an apprentice?”

  Ethan didn’t answer.

  “Never mind, I will indulge you, brother, since you have wakened me. Don’t be stupid enough to give Amyar our blood. I can do without his ranting.”

  “Show her h-h-how it is d-done,” said Ethan in a thick voice. “Show her how we b-b-bring freedom t-to them.”

  Ametheus took a position beneath a low bulge in the transparent surface.

  “We will begin with a settlement then,” said Seus, “somewhere in the upper lands, a place that clings to its Order.” He reached for the glass-like dome. An image of dry and rumpled grasslands hung above him. Seus rolled his palms and the landscape moved away, as if they were travelling over the hills. They flicked over the high ground and encountered a partially tilled landscape beside a lake.

  Tabitha felt swept up in the current of the Sorcerer’s fugue. She was still reeling from the rapid shift of attention—one moment speaking to the mixed-up Ethan, the next in his arrogant brother’s domain. She was incapable of resisting his raw coercive force. He rolled his palms and Tabitha was swept along in his wake. In the image of the world, a paling sunset touched loosely woven fences. They slowed over a settlement of grass-roofed huts ringed with sharpened wooden stakes.

  “Ah, a good place to begin, a border-town. See how few Lakelanders they are, how empty the dwellings. They must have suffered a battle. There, see the mourning rites?” Seus pointed to a cluster of dark-skinned women milling around a smoking pyre. The women wore sleeveless shifts, their
arms and faces smeared with ash. A few men stood with bowed heads around the blaze, their hands clenched on the shafts of tall spears, silent and unmoving. The women wove an intricate procession around them.

  “If we stay in the smoke of the fire, they’ll not see us,” said Seus. “Look at their pallor, the gloom upon these people. They are so caught up in their loss, so trapped in their personalities.”

  The bodies swayed within the smoke. One woman stared at Tabitha suddenly, her eyes wide with fright. She threw up her hands and gave a soundless wail. Others beside her turned inward. A man lofted his spear.

  Tabitha tried to shy away, but the Sorcerer’s hand was firm against her back.

  “Now they know they are watched,” he said.

  The man threw his long-spear. The tip of bone was jagged and sharp. Tabitha jerked out of Seus’s steadying hand but the spear reached the edge of the sphere. The vision rippled, the spear vanished. There had been no need to avoid it.

  “We are still in the Pillar, apprentice, nothing can come through unless I intend it,” explained Seus. “Nothing can avoid the pull if I decide it must come. See how they tear grass from their roofs? They fear what they see in the smoke. Ignorant Lakelanders. Fear only drives Chaos faster.”

  The villagers threw bundles of grass at the fire. The flames grew higher.

  “They stand around their dead because they tried to fight to hold onto their land, to defend it from the Lûk, most likely. They must learn to let it go, to be free of the need for wealth and possessions. Chaos will lead them to the truth.”

  “Why should they abandon their possessions?” Tabitha objected, struggling to follow Seus’s twisted logic. “Things have value! Possessions will always have value!”