The land is ill,
I make it well.
Words that twisted
And cursed the draw,
Now be removed,
Be free of this flaw.
Be returned to the Presence
From this moment hence,
Be returned to your primal state
Of pristine innocence."
Akindo's mouth slowly closed and disappeared in its smooth face. It raised its hands, its claws tearing at the sky. Then it fell to its knees in the snow.
It let loose a mournful cry. Again it raised its hands at the sky. It seemed to be desperately trying to open something. Zendrak watched with interest.
Was this some directive of Hennin or some unexpected emotion from Akindo? Zendrak didn't know. Again Akindo howled. The sound of it shook the foundations of the city. An earthquake started. Zendrak snapped at the air. Did Greatkin Mattermat intend to destroy the city if he couldn't have his way? Was he having a temper tantrum in Eranossa at this very moment? Zendrak didn't know this, either. But he suspected Akindo might well be drawing power from Mattermat.
Okay, thought Zendrak. Okay, big boy—you want to play rough? Fine.
Zendrak rose in the air higher. Then, diving like a bird of prey, he screamed at Akindo, all seven sets of his vocal cords splitting the air. Thunder and lightning crashed around him. Calling on the power of Trickster and Themyth both, Zendrak fought Mattermat on the earth plane with the power of the spell of Once Upon. He began telling the creation story of the Greatkin that the Mythrrim had recently told Rimble in Soaringsea. With each word, he reminded Mattermat and all of creation that everything answered to Great Being. Nothing acted in opposition to that great will.
Anything that attempted to do so would fail in the end. And that end was now, he told Mattermat. Lightning struck the ground. Snow exploded as if it had just been knocked free by a blast of dynamite. Again and again, the lightning struck. Thunder pummeled the air. Buildings shook and crumbled.
People screamed. Some ran out into the streets. Others ran into the archways of stone buildings. Animals bolted. Pandemonium increased as the battle raged.
Akindo clawed the air more urgently now. A bolt of lightning hit the monster in the face, boring into the middle of its forehead. Akindo screamed in agony. Suddenly a whirlwind started in a wide circle around Akindo. Zendrak smiled.
Kelandris was turning at Revel Rock.
No sooner had Kelandris started to spin in the center qf the monoliths that circled the sacred area known as Revel Rock than Elder Hennin realized she was in Suxonli. Like an ancient fury, the renegade Mayanabi ran out of her house. She grabbed the first saddled horse she found and galloped up the path called the Long Revel Trail. It was steep, the mountains that bordered it sheer and treacherous with snow. Hennin beat her horse mercilessly, forcing it to climb faster and faster. Just as she turned the corner that opened into the large standing-stone circle, she was confronted by an enormous blue-black horse.
This was the beginning of Elder Hennin's nightmare—so to speak.
Further, for it was Further, commanded Hennin's gelding to stop. Glad to do so, the gelding stopped cold. Hennin was so surprised by the sudden cessation of motion that she lost her balance and fell off. The gelding moved away, leaving Further to deal with the woman's cruelty. The mare snorted, her glass eyes wild. Power surged and crackled around Further.
Summoning the forces of Neath, the mare stood her ground. Hennin tried to gauge the extent of Further's power. Sensing suddenly that Further drew from Neath and not Eranossa, Hennin began to laugh quietly. Neath was the underworld where all things nefarious were born—so she thought. This was home territory. Feeling more confident, Hennin prepared to do battle with the Fertile Dark.
Without warning, Further charged the Tammirring woman. Striking out with her hooves, she reared and attacked. Hennin concentrated her attention on the emotion of fear. She grabbed at the mare's heart with doubt and horror.
The mare whinnied fiercely, still attacking. Hennin jumped out of the way.
Then she saw who was riding Further.
It was the Greatkin of Death, Troth. Staring in shock at Troth—she had always thought he was on her side—Elder Hennin was momentarily caught off guard. Further connected with her skull. And pulverized it with her hooves. Bones caved in, making a sickening sound. Blood and brains spilled into the snow. As this occurred Kelandris spun to the right.
Raising the old bull-roarer she had long ago left in this place, Kelandris sent it sailing in a wide circle above her head. It whined and droned.
Calling on Zendrak to steady the power from the land, she brought down the power of the heavens. Kelandris was immediately hit by lightning.
Unlike last time, sixteen years ago in Suxonli, Kelandris did not lose control of the draw. Himayat and Po grounded her. As Zendrak pulled the power through Kelandris and used it to finish Akindo, Hennin died, her psyche shattered by the innate goodness of the Fertile Dark. In Speakinghast, Akindo lost its form. Like a ceramic dish suddenly hurled against the floor, Akindo solidified then cracked into a thousand pieces. The diabolic consciousness of Akindo rose in the air to meet Zendrak. Zendrak took a deep breath and blew out the word, "whoooooo" at Akindo. This was the sound Great Being had made when It first released its dreams. The divine sound penetrated and reconstituted Akindo's will with Its own. Forming Akindo into a new pattern, the sound dispersed Hennin's intentions that drove the monster. Suddenly directionless, it hesitated. During that moment of hesitation, Zendrak ate Akindo's consciousness. Greatkin that he was, he absorbed his mistake into himself. Freed of the evil of Hennin's desires, Akindo did not harm him. Now Zendrak spoke to the land, healing it. He sent that healing back to Kelandris. She spun it into the earth at Revel Rock. The door that Hennin had opened sixteen years ago lost its edges and was reabsorbed into the whole of the draw of all Mnemlith.
There was no scar.
Hennin was defeated.
Troth jumped off Further. He slung the body of the Tammirring woman over Further's withers. Jumping back on the mare, Troth returned to Neath.
Hennin would find herself in unpardoned service to him for a long time. Her first task would be to treat Cobeth like the son she pretended he was to her. This time, however, she'd have to muster up the genuine feelings. If she couldn't do it, Troth decided Hennin could clean the stables of Neath for a while until her temper improved. If her temper didn't improve, Troth would make her write the following until it did improve.
"All things begin in the name of Presence."
If this took eons, so much the better, thought Troth. The stables of Neath were quite dirty. He'd be glad of a drudge in his service.
24
As soon as Zendrak dispatched Akindo, everyone in Speakinghast who had been affected by the steady drain of despair was freed. Through Akindo's death, Hennin's foul desires were thwarted forever. Those who had been stung by the holovespa and lived, now died—with the single exception of Yafatah, who had been saved from Hennin's intentions by the roving univer'silsila breed of wasp.
So Rhu passed away quietly in her home. She joined Cobeth in Neath and was surprised by the change Kelandris had wrought in him. It took much longer for Rhu to forgive Kelandris for making Cobeth unrecognizable to her than it had for Kelandris to jump in the River of Memory and save Cobeth's soul. Rimble-Rimble.
In the city street, all that remained of Akindo was its long gray robe. Faces peered out of the windows of the Kaleidicopia. When Rowenaster and Janusin saw that Akindo was dead, they told the others hiding under various archways and desks in the house. A ragged cheer resounded. People climbed out of their earthquake fortresses and assembled in the living room. Barlimo immediately started checking the walls for cracks. Finding several, she swore. Guildmaster Gadorian laughed at her continued concern over the Kaleidicopia.
"You don't live here. Remember? You just signed the papers."
The rest of the Kaleidicopians, all of whom had been terr
ified by the earthquake and the sound of Zendrak's Mythrrim screech, just stared at the Saambolin official, everyone too dumbfounded by his lack of compassion to even reprimand him. Finally Mab broke the silence. Glancing about herself, she asked, "Where's Tree?" No one knew. Looking worried, Barlimo went off in search of the twiggy Jinnjirri fellow. Janusin followed her in silence. Both Jinnjirri knew that all of Tree's family had been killed by an earthquake while on a picnic in Jinnjirri one summer. They hoped Tree would come out of hiding when they called him. Barlimo and Janusin investigated every cubby and crawl space they could think of on every floor of the house. They found no trace of Tree. They returned to the larger group, their expressions and their hair color dour.
Mab said, "You didn't find him."
"Nope," said Janusin.
"Try outside," said Himayat. "I can feel him nearby. I just can't place him.
Seems he's elevated on something—"
"A tree?" said Yafatah suddenly. "There do be one you can reach outside my window."
"Well, that explains a lot," said Barlimo drily. During Fasilla's absence, Barlimo had been left in charge of the young Tammirring girl. On several occasions, she had found Yafatah's door locked and the girl strangely silent inside her room. Yafatah hadn't been sleeping; she had been out exploring the city streets. Barlimo rolled her eyes, but said nothing more.
Yafatah gave Barlimo a quick hug. "Sorry. Anyway, come on. I bet that be his hideaway." It was true.
When everyone had piled into Yafatah's small room on the second floor, the sixteen-year-old ran to the open window. Yafatah poked her head out.
There on the inner-most branch, huddled next to the trunk of the maple that grew beside the Kaleidicopia, sat Tree. His hair was ashen, his eyes shut. He was trembling. Yafatah told the others. Janusin opened the window wider and climbed out. He called Tree's name. Tree said nothing.
Swinging carefully to a strong branch, the master sculptor inched toward Tree. Hearing twigs break, Tree looked up. His eyes were wild with fear. He began screaming at Janusin to get away from him. Janusin licked his lips.
"Tree, I mean you no harm. You know that."
"I don't want your help, Janusin. Stay the fuck away!" Janusin looked helplessly at Barlimo, who now had her head outside the window. Barlimo called softly to Tree, putting all the mothering she could muster into her voice. Janusin felt cheered by her words himself. He turned back to Tree, expecting the younger Jinnjirri to respond in kind.
"Go away! Go away, all of you!"
Zendrak, who was still in Mythrrim form, heard Tree's yells. Circling overhead, Zendrak squawked. Tree was so startled that he lost his grip on the trunk. Janusin grabbed his arm as Tree nearly fell off his perch. Feeling the strength in Janusin's hand and seeing the genuine concern in Janusin's eyes, Tree started crying. Janusin, whose arms and back were hard with muscles made powerful through hours of sculpting, pulled Tree toward him roughly. Mov-ing back toward Yafatah's bedroom, Janusin pushed Tree into Barlimo's waiting hands. Once Tree and Janusin were inside, Yafatah shut the window. Tree collapsed in a small, skinny heap on the floor, his face buried in his arms. He made no noise. Now his hair turned stricken blue-black. It frosted with gray. Barlimo sat down next to Tree. She spoke quietly to him.
"Hey, you in there."
"What?" came the muffled reply.
"Life goes on."
"Shut up, Barl."
Barlimo remained undeterred. "Hey."
"What?"
"I'm making cocoa. You want some?"
Tree raised his head. "You're not making cocoa. You're in here talking to me, stupid."
Barlimo nodded. "Well, I'd like to be making cocoa—"
"So go away. I told you to go away before. So go away."
Barlimo shrugged. "You going to stay inside?"
"Who cares?"
"I do," said Barlimo. A round of voices echoed her words. Barlimo smiled.
"Well, will you listen to that? They all care. Must be sick, huh, Tree?"
"Yeah," said Tree, his hair starting to lighten impercep-tibly.
Barlimo got up. "I'm going to make cocoa. Anybody who wants any should follow me into the kitchen."
Everybody left the room. Seeing that he was alone—finally—Tree let out a sigh of relief. He glanced at the closed window. He considered going back out on a limb—literally. As the thought crossed his mind, Zendrak pressed his ugly Mythrrim head—teeth, protruding eyes and horns—against the closed window and screeched. Startled, Tree got to his feet hastily and tore down the stairs after his housemates.
Outside the house, Zendrak lifted into the air and flew toward Suxonli.
In the kitchen of the Kaleidicopia, conversation was merry. This surprised Gadorian. After all, he had just served everyone their eviction notice a scant hour ago. The Saambolin official watched Barlimo throw the eviction papers aside as she readied mugs for cocoa.
Uncomfortable with the good humor in the room, Gadorian said, "Well, I'll be leaving now."
"Why do that, Gad?" asked Rowenaster. "We'll be having lunch soon. You might as well stay."
"' Why are you being so hospitable to me?"
Rowenaster shrugged. "We're alive, aren't we? Seems like a good moment to act friendly. Even to you. After all, we want the same thing as you. We want the city to survive the Jinnaeon."
Gadorian scowled. "I was going to ask you about those prophesies the other day at the university. Sirrey said I should."
Rowenaster grinned unexpectedly. "So, sit."
Timmer grumbled as she poured milk into a large saucepan. "This isn't going to be boring, is it? I mean, this isn't going to be one of your religious lectures, is it?"
Yafatah grinned happily and interrupted before Rowenaster could reply.
"They be Tammi prophesies, doon't they?"
"Yes, child. Now, pay attention, all of you. You, too, Timmer. These prophesies affect everyone in this room, this city, indeed, in the whole world. You can close your ears if you dare. Some people like surprises, of course."
Properly chastised, Timmer swore and sat down at the round kitchen table.
Tree, Janusin, Barlimo, Fasilla, Yafatah, and Mab soon joined her.
Rowenaster stayed on his feet. He was about to give one of his favorite lectures. For this he would pace in his best professorial style. Clasping his hands behind his back, the seventy-year-old man began.
"The Jinnaeon is named for Jinndaven, the Greatkin of Imagination.
Jinnaeon is a transition period of creative, imaginative turmoil when doomsday stories proliferate and everyone's worst fears will be realized—
At Eranossa, Jinndaven started protesting vigorously.
Panthe'kinarok Interlogue
"I am the patron of good ideas!" yelled the Greatkin of Imagination at the top of his lungs. All conversation at the table stopped. Raising his fist in the air and glaring mightily at Rimble, Jinndaven added, "You see what they're saying about me? You see what you did—"
Mattermat roared with laughter as Rimble turned scarlet.
Jinndaven continued his tirade. "I told you they'd blame all your chaos on me. The Jinnaeon. Just because you wanted to cause a mutation in a rose gives you no right to bastardize my name, Rimble!" Jinndaven's body trembled with frustration.
"Well, well, Rimble," said Mattermat silkily. "You just lost one of your main supporters here. Feeling a little vulnerable, are we?"
Trickster had just materialized a blanket. He was currently hiding under it.
What Mattermat didn't realize was that the blanket was one made by a Native American tribe in a Distant Place. While Rimble hid, he thought.
After a few moments—during which Mattermat continued to deride him—Rimble threw off the blanket. Dressed in furs and feathers and mud, Trickster announced, "Fine. You guys don't like me? I don't care. I don't like you, either—
Themyth tried to interrupt but was unsuccessful.
"Furthermore," said Trickster, standing on his chair, "I don't have t
o stay here at this blasted dinner. I can leave. I can go live elsewhere."
Rimble paused, delighting at the stunned expressions on the faces of his twenty-six brothers and sisters.
"No one would have you," snapped Mattermat.
"Hoo-hoo, brother dear. You're so wrong. I've been marketing. And it's paid off. A new name has been born in a Distant Place. Mine. They've added it to their list. I'm not just Coyote. I'm Rimble. I'm Ubiquitous. I'm National. I'm Dancing in the Streets." Trickster laughed like a Mythrrim.
Hearing the familiar sound, Themyth steepled her fingers on the table.
Trickster was up to something, that was certain. Or he had already been up to something and the Greatkin were about to find out what it was. She decided the latter was probably the case; Rimble was looking too smug to be bluffing.
Themyth cleared her throat. "What streets are you dancing in, dear?"
"Milwaukee. And D. C. And Pittsfield. And New York. And Boston. And San Francisco. Hey—I'm even dancing in Kenya. I'm not just national, folks. I'm international. Ta-da! My name means Transformer."
"No, it doesn't," said Sathmadd. "It means The-One-Who-Knows-Something-of-Himself. I know. I have it cat-alogued right here," she added, pointing at her head.
"It also means Transformer," said Rimble.
"Since when?" asked the Greatkin of Organization, her voice skeptical.
Sathmadd knew all the names of everything in the known universe. As it turned out, however, the Distant Place was in a universe unknown to the Greatkin. Until recently.
Greatkin Mattermat frowned, his burly eyebrows resembling a ridge of briars across his broad forehead. "If you leave this universe, Rimble, you'll cease to 'matter' here. I'll see to it personally."
"I'm sure you will, Mattie," replied Rimble, his voice pleasant.
"You don't sound very concerned," said Themyth. She, on the other hand, felt quite concerned.
"Why matter to people who don't appreciate my impr ooo vements? Even I get tired of hitting my head against mountains," Trickster added, looking directly at Mattermat.
Trickster's Touch Page 17
