Broken World Book Four - The Staff of Law

by Southwell, T C

  “How will we get in?”

  “With me.” He smiled. “I’ll open a doorway for the chosen. I’m not sure, but it’s possible that the gods will see fit to reward the chosen with a key to the lakes, since those who survive the testing will be no threat to their creatures. I think this will happen, for the gods are trying to make you their own, and therefore no part of this world will be forbidden or hidden to you.”

  “But I’m not to be tested again?”

  “No, you’ll see the Lake of Dreams as it really is. The others will see visions.”

  “And what will happen to those who fail?”

  He shrugged. “They’ll stay there.”

  Talsy shivered again and wound her arms around his neck. “Even Kieran?”

  “Kieran will pass, of that I’m certain.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s as good as you.” He scrutinised her teasingly. “Maybe even a little better.”

  She smacked him playfully, and he pretended to be mortally injured by it, making her giggle. He heaved her off his lap and stood up, leading her into the corridor.

  “All this talk has made me hungry, let’s eat.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Chanter tended Travain each day, allowing no one else entry. He kept the window open, for the stench of rotting flesh hung heavy in the air, making even him a little queasy. Dancer had accompanied him once and retreated quickly, refusing to enter the room again. Each day, Chanter stripped away the rotting flesh that covered Travain and cleaned the suppurating holes that opened to eject unwanted Trueman organs. Foul ichor ran from his ears and nose, and his brown hair fell out in a matted mass. He remained apparently lifeless, his tallana softened to allow the Mujar to tend him. Chanter removed buckets of decaying flesh, drawing many curious glances from people as he passed with his stinking loads. He buried it behind the castle, aware that he was burying Talsy’s flesh, her Trueman blood that could no longer mingle with Mujar under the laws.

  Most nights he spent with her, using his magic to carry her into the realm of dreams and forget her worries for a few hours. They lay together in a misty forest glade, upon a river of frozen starlight, and amid the soft shimmering hues of a rainbow while rain fell from a sunny sky. They laughed and played together in a private magical world of Chanter’s creation, walked across the silver moon path on a calm black sea and lay in its languid swells.

  The more he showed Talsy of his secret memories, the more they fascinated her, and a growing realisation dawned within her. They were not his memories, but came from a different time, different incarnations of his long and many-faceted existence. It came to her on the night he transported her to a realm of moonlit sea and they lay together on water that streamed like silk beneath them, and a sweet musky scent filled the air. It was the memory of a sea creature, content in its watery element, augmented by Chanter’s fire, which burnt in the water and heated it to a warm, undulating bed.

  Chanter shared her delight in his memories of past lives glimpsed through the portal of his power, which held the key to recollections long forgotten. All that came to him were settings, sensations and scents, but the joy of being at one with this world was new to Talsy, and she loved it. As she sampled the feast of sensations he set before her, so he shared the strange rush of emotions each evoked in her, and the pleasure she gained from his touch. The sharing of minds taught him much about Truemen, some of which he marvelled at, while other parts confused him.

  Chanter enjoyed her pleasure at the new vistas he showed her, but could not understand her fascination with his form. To a Mujar, his body was merely a vessel for his soul, a link between the spiritual and physical worlds, and a fleshy receptacle in which to live for a hundred years. To Talsy, his physical appearance was a source of great allure, and she seemed to find his proximity most enjoyable. He, on the other hand, only wished to give her happiness, for his own preference, as Travain had once pointed out, ran more to large smelly flowers than Trueman females.

  By sharing her bed, he gained much unnecessary sleep, yet Talsy seemed happier when he stayed the night. Her happiness was his only concern, for he wanted to give her something in exchange for the death of her son. Every day she asked about Travain, and he replied honestly that the boy still slept, not telling her the gory details of his transformation.

  After two weeks, the sloughing of dead flesh ceased, leaving a skeletal body wasted by the death of half its substance. He had a gaunt, hollow-eyed face with fleshless cheeks and a shrivelled neck, but what was left was pure Mujar. Travain’s fleshy face and broad features were gone with his Trueman part, leaving a frail, delicately featured youth of Dancer’s age whose scalp bore a fuzz of pitch-black hair. Chanter washed away the last vestiges of rot that clung to his darkening golden skin. When he turned him over to scrub his back, Chanter noted that the Mujar mark on the back of his scalp was complete now. Once Travain was clean and swathed in fresh sheets, Chanter finally invited Talsy to see her new son. She detoured to inspect the Staff of Law, whose first line of writing had dimmed. Satisfied, she followed him to the room, where he unlocked the door and stood aside.

  Talsy approached the bed hesitantly, her eyes locked on the skeletal youth who occupied it, finding no resemblance to her son. She sat beside him and gathered up a fragile, bony hand, clasping it to her cheek as tears escaped her brimming eyes.

  “Travain,” she sighed, her voice catching. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He can’t hear you.”

  “I know.”

  Talsy ran her hands over his face, tracing the contours of his features that were alien to her now. He had lobe-less Mujar ears, a high bridged, narrow nose, thin lips and a cleft chin. Nothing remained of her crossbreed son, his coarse features replaced by classical Mujar beauty. She smiled, apparently entranced by his flawless features, slightly more masculine than Dancer’s, more like his father, but younger.

  “He’s still my son,” she whispered. “He’ll always be my son, whether he knows it or not. He’s the child I dreamt of, the one I knew I would bear, perfect in every way. He owes me the ultimate Wish, for I gave him life, and my Wish will hold him to me, keep him at my side as I could never bear to keep you, Chanter. He’ll outlive me by many years, and when I’m dead, he’ll be free.”

  Chanter was surprised by her possessive tone and air of satisfaction. “You’re happy?”

  “Yes, he’s everything I dreamt of, all I ever wanted.”

  “He’s not Travain anymore. He’s Drummer now.”

  “I know, a gentle Mujar like his father. My son, a pure Mujar.” She looked up at him and smiled. “This is what I wanted. I was afraid for him, but now I see that he’s changed for the better.”

  “Do you think so little of your own people?”

  “They can’t compare to Mujar. As you told me long ago, your gods took our form and perfected it to create you, and that’s what he is, perfect. Who could want for more than a perfect child?”

  He was uncertain, but nodded. “I’m glad.”

  “But he’s so thin. How will he regain his weight when he’s still asleep?”

  “He eats. I’ve been feeding him a broth.”

  She rose. “Then I’ll care for him from now on. You’ve done your part, now it’s my turn.”

  Talsy hurried down to the kitchens to begin her chore of feeding the sleeping youngster. Chanter was puzzled by her acceptance of Drummer, but then, he mused, he still did not understand Truemen emotions. From then on, Talsy fed Drummer each day, spooning rich nourishing broth into him, and slowly he gained weight.

  Talsy was in the kitchen cooking Drummer’s lunch when Danya came to the castle. She had hardly seen the girl since the day Travain had collapsed, and welcomed her with a smile. Danya had been understandably upset, and Sheera kept her up to date on her ex-fiancé’s progress. Talsy felt sorry for the girl, whose marriage was now impossible, and invited her to sit as she stirred the broth. Danya settled at the kitchen table and watched the
First Chosen work. Talsy noticed her pale, drawn look and set aside her spoon to sit beside her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Danya looked down at her twisting hands. “Please don’t be cross,” she burst out. “Mother’s already furious with me, and told me to come and tell you. She says I’ve disgraced the family, and you, and Travain...”

  “Why? What have you done?”

  “I… We... You said we should wait until after the laws came back, to get married.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well we... we couldn’t wait... we love each other, and Travain... He said it would be all right...” the girl stammered into a painful silence, and Talsy sat back, understanding.

  “You lay with him.”

  Danya nodded, bowing her head in shame.

  “And now you’re with child.”

  Danya burst into tears, clutching a damp hanky to her face, and Talsy stared into space, stunned.

  “How could it survive the laws?” she asked, deep in thought. “You’re sure?”

  The girl nodded miserably. “A month gone.”

  Talsy went to the kitchen door and bellowed Chanter’s name into the empty passage. She knew he was somewhere in the castle, he had been here since Travain had fallen sick. By the time she returned to the table to comfort the distraught girl, the Mujar appeared. His brows rose at the sight that greeted him, sniffing the burning broth. Talsy took it off the fire, and he cocked his head.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Danya’s with child,” she replied baldly. “Travain’s child.”

  “Ah.” He studied the weeping girl. “And you want to know what it will be like.”

  “Do you know?”

  “Well, since the laws are in place, it can’t be a crossbreed.”

  “So? What will it be?” Talsy demanded.

  “Trueman, of course. I’ve told you that Mujar can die before they’re born, before they become undying. Danya’s child will have no Mujar in it, just as Travain no longer has Trueman blood.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He shrugged. “Travain was only half Mujar, so the child would only be a quarter. No, it will be Trueman, I’m sure.”

  Talsy slumped with relief, patting Danya’s hands. “There, it’ll be all right. You’ll be fine.”

  Danya’s gaze darted between them, her expression becoming perplexed. “That wasn’t what I was worried about!”

  “Oh?” Talsy shot Chanter a glare as he wandered over to the pot and sampled her broth. “What’s the problem then?”

  “How will I live? Mother and father won’t support me. They can’t afford to raise another child. Will Travain get better?”

  “Well of course Travain will...” Talsy trailed off as Chanter caught her eye and shook his head over the steaming spoonful of broth. “He won’t?” she asked.

  “Drummer is Mujar.”

  “Oh. Of course.” She frowned at him as he tasted the broth and pulled a face. “Well.” She turned back to Danya. “Don’t you know any other boys?”

  “Who would wed a girl carrying another man’s child?”

  “Ah.” Talsy racked her brains for available men who might do just that, and came up blank. “You don’t have to get married.”

  “Who will support me and the baby?” Danya wailed.

  “Granny,” Chanter muttered, then ducked and ran as Talsy leapt to her feet. She glared after him, and sank back into her chair. He poked his head around the corner again, licked the spoon and grinned. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, and she fought it and lost, bursting into giggles. Chanter, seeing that the storm was over, sidled back into the kitchen and helped himself to more broth.

  “How can I be a grandmother at the ripe old age of twenty-three?” She giggled.

  “Well, you are,” he said. “Another burden for poor old Kieran.”

  Talsy sighed, a little guilty about Kieran. With the barter system in the valley, trade was a simple matter. Work for food, or grow your own. She and Kieran had dug a vegetable garden in the castle grounds, and what it produced went to feed them and buy meat. In addition, Kieran cut wood and dug other people’s fields in order to buy clothes and furnishings for the castle. Many people gave freely to the Prince out of respect or fealty, but Kieran had supported Talsy through her pregnancy and raising Travain. To now expect him to raise her grandchild seemed a bit harsh, and she glowered at Chanter.

  “Perhaps it’s time granddad helped out.”

  The Mujar straightened. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You can earn a living more easily than any of us, with your powers.”

  He held up his hands. “You know I can’t ask for goods in return for favours.”

  “Breaking Mujar law, is it? It’s time you learnt to be more Trueman, Chanter. Things have changed. The chosen don’t need to be tested by your Mujar perversity anymore. That was designed to make them hate you, to single out the really bad ones who would hurt you out of envy and hate. There’s no reason for it now.”

  He pondered this, then came and sat opposite. “You’re right, of course, but I don’t know if I can change. I can’t imagine going into the village and setting up a stall, yelling, ‘Mujar powers for sale, get them while they’re hot!’ then healing some old lady’s carbuncles for three chickens, can you?”

  Talsy threw back her head and roared with laughter. She had forgotten how joyful and mischievous Chanter could be. He had lost it all when the Staff of Law had been broken, becoming quiet, solemn and sorrowful. With the restoration of the laws, his humour had returned, along with his boundless, infectious joy. He seemed to reflect the moods of the world, and now that it was healed, he was himself again, the teasing, childlike demigod she had first met.

  Wiping away tears of laughter, she said, “Maybe you should be a comedian.”

  Snatching up a napkin, he draped it over his head and bounced around the kitchen, pulling faces and keeping Talsy and Danya in stitches. Leaping past the door, he collided with Dancer, who stepped accidentally into his path. A flash of blue fire sprang up between them and they recoiled, Chanter tripping and falling backwards. He burst out laughing, and Dancer joined in, reaching down to help him to his feet.

  “Getting some exercise, Father?” the youngster enquired.

  Chanter waved the napkin. “Becoming a comedian.”

  Talsy giggled. “I’m sure everyone would pay well to see you make an ass of yourself.”

  In a flash of icy Dolana, Chanter became a grey donkey and let out an ear-splitting bray. Dancer doubled over with mirth, and Talsy’s gut ached as she choked, “I didn’t mean literally, Chanter.”

  Kieran walked in, looking confused at the mirthful ruckus. “What on earth is going on?”

  Everyone collapsed in fresh peals of laughter, the donkey braying loudest of all. When at last she could speak again, Talsy said, “We were just discussing how we’re going to support my grandchild, and granddad, over there, thinks he should become a comedian.”

  Kieran stared at the donkey. “Chanter? Grandchild?” He glanced at Danya. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh yes,” Talsy giggled, “I’m afraid so.”

  Kieran sank into a chair and Chanter turned back into a man, making Talsy shiver and rub her arms. Dancer helped himself to a bowl of broth and joined in the merry gathering around the table, discussing ways of putting Chanter’s talents to work. The young Mujar looked surprised and confused when he was roped in as uncle. Mujar had no concept of family, so this took a lot of explaining, which only seemed to confuse the youngster even more.

  Eventually Sheera chased them out so she could cook supper, and they went their separate ways, Danya content that she would be looked after. After Talsy fed Drummer his broth, she wandered down to the chamber where the Staff of Law hung in the air above the cracked depression. Drifts of blood-red sand now covered the floor, piling up against the walls, lurid in the torchlight. Talsy gazed at the seamed grey staff, watching the tiny flaring of the lower lines of law.

 
; “I must send it back,” Chanter said, emerging from the shadows and making her jump, “before it fills this valley with sand.”

  “Where will it go?”

  “Back to where it came from, on the shores of the inland sea.”

  “One pebble amongst millions.” She sighed. “It’s so reassuring to see it here, whole again.”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t belong here. Besides, as soon as Drummer wakes, he and Dancer must find more chosen and we must set out for the Plains of Redemption.”

  “Why the rush?” she enquired.

  “The Hashon Jahar are on the move again, passing through this land to that same destination. We have to stay ahead of them if we want to save all our chosen.”

  She suppressed a shiver at the mention of the Black Riders. “Once you send it back, it’ll be lost again for all time, won’t it?”

  He nodded. “Unless summoned, but only a Mujar can summon the Staff of Law, unlike the lesser staffs. Yet that’s how it should be. It was never meant to be found, and its discovery brought tragedy.”

  Talsy walked up to the staff and ran her fingers along its lines of law, caressing the gnarled stone. As Chanter had once told her, the Staff of Law bestowed no sensation, unlike the Staff of Life. Its surface was chilly to the touch, but otherwise inert. She stepped back and turned to Chanter.

  “Will you do it now?”

  “Perhaps some should bear witness; otherwise they may become alarmed by its disappearance.”