‘A wise man?’ I said haughtily. Who was it making diagnoses of royal ailments – indeed possessions – before I? ‘Are you sure his appraisal of the situation is sound? There are old legends concerning possession by demons, but now our more enlightened understanding is that, in most cases, when people were said to be hag-ridden, they were in fact afflicted by a malady of the mind. You must tell me, your mightiness, of your son’s symptoms.’
‘This I will do,’ said the king. ‘Then you may see him and reach your own conclusion. But first, I must inform you of the events that led to it.’
Eight days before, I was told, news had come to the court of a master magician who was creating something of a stir in the tea rooms of the more affluent corners of the city. His illusions, it seemed, were so convincing they could inspire terror, obsessional devotion and dark hatred. He claimed he could drive people mad with his magic, mad for love or envy, mad for despair. The illusions themselves were so astounding, so beautiful, that many were moved to tears. One man said he was transported back into the most golden day of his childhood, when he had become aware in his heart of the spirit of the sky – a moment he had never recaptured. Another man spoke of how his long-broken heart was healed of hurt as the woman who’d sundered it came to him and asked for his forgiveness. There were many stories such as these. It was all illusion, of course, but it touched people, and word of it came to the king. ‘Send for this man,’ he’d said. ‘Let him show the court his expert trickery.’ And so the magician was sent for.
As I was told this story, I could picture the man’s charlatan’s garb, all flouncing colourful robes and extreme hand gestures. I listened patiently while the king described the wonders this paragon of tricksters performed for the court. ‘It was all the usual fare and more,’ he said. ‘Not only could he make serpents dance to the music of a flute, but they would come out of their baskets and choose dancing partners from among the ladies. Then they would turn somersaults, before tying themselves into a complicated knot and flinging themselves back in their baskets.’
I nodded. ‘Mmm.’
‘Then, he filled the air with flowers that turned to bubbles when you touched them. He made a servant boy climb up a rope he flung into the air, and which stayed there taut. The boy came down again and told us all of a magical land he’d found at the top, where the sky was red and the trees were bright yellow. The magician then took the hand of my old mother and turned her back into the girl she’d once been. The effect lasted for over an hour, and my mother has not stopped weeping since.’ The king raised his arms. ‘I have never beheld such wondrous magic. He is a powerful man indeed.’
‘Indeed. Does he have a name, this man?’
‘He calls himself Arcaran.’
‘I see. How is his arrival connected with your son’s illness?’
The king tapped his lips with restless fingers. ‘Ah well, the two events go together but not in any way you’d imagine. On the morning I sent for the magician, Reevan seemed out of sorts on awaking. He felt tired, listless. He could barely move. When my physician examined him, Reevan spoke of bad dreams, a night during which he had been hunted by demons through a strange and terrifying landscape. The experience had exhausted him. The physician proclaimed Reevan had a slight fever, which had caused hallucinations in the night. The prince was given a posset to soothe him.
‘But the illness only became worse. It was as if his life was draining away, and it happened so quickly. In the space of a day. I decided Reevan must be sent to the temple, but Arcaran intervened at this point. He came into the sick-room, unbidden, and there made a terrible hissing noise, all the while drawing symbols in the air around him. I was naturally aghast and affronted and about to order him out, but he said to me, “Great king, you are familiar with the stinging salamander?”
‘I can’t remember how I answered this bizarre and inappropriate question, but Arcaran raised his hands against my bluster and said, “There is a stinging salamander on your son’s back. It is feeding upon him.”
‘I could see no such thing and said as much, although I remember my flesh went cold.
“Oh, it is there,” said the magician, “it is an elemental being, the cause of the prince’s torpor. It must be removed, and quickly, for it is already laying eggs.”
‘When I heard these words, I went utterly cold. It was as if I could smell something foul in the room, something evil.’
The king shook his head, and would have continued, but I decided it was time to interrupt this preposterous narrative. ‘Eggs? Salamanders? Perhaps it is time I saw the phenomenon for myself.’ I paused. ‘I trust no action has yet been taken to remove this alleged elemental?’
The king shook his head. ‘Indeed not. Arcaran was most insistent that your aid should be sought first.’
‘How polite of him,’ I said. Quietly, I wondered why the charlatan showed such consideration.
Accompanied only by his vizier, King Jaiver led Meni and I to the prince’s bed-chamber. Here, dark drapes were drawn against the heat of the day, so that the light was brownish. I saw the boy lying on golden pillows, covered by a thin tasselled blanket. His body gleamed with sweat, but I sensed that should I touch him, his flesh would be cold. I could tell at once that this was more than a fever, but I could not credit the idea of unseen parasites.
I walked around the bed for a few moments, sniffing the air. The strange thing was that I could not smell sickness. The air was dry and faintly redolent of smoke. They had been burning an acrid incense in there. I forcibly repressed a shudder. ‘I really think he should be moved to the temple,’ I said. ‘He needs light and air.’
‘But the demon creature,’ said the king. ‘You should not carry one across the threshold of the Sektaeon. Surely that would be dangerous?’
I made my voice cold and harsh to indicate my patience was fraying. ‘I and my priesthood are quite capable of dealing with any eventuality.’
The king bowed. ‘Great lady, we have no choice but to obey your word, but I have to say that your decision distresses me greatly. In the temple of fire, the elemental could acquire great strength and take what is left of my son’s life.’
‘You must trust me,’ I said.
Then, a faint hiss and a dry rattle emanated from one of the dark corners of the room and a man emerged from the shadows. He had, of course, been present the entire time, but for whatever reason had concealed his presence until now.
He bowed slightly and extended his arms in an expansive gesture. Such theatre! ‘Great lady, you must not take the boy into your temple.’
I put as much sneer into my voice as I could muster. ‘Ah, you must be the physician who diagnosed the case. Your presence is no longer required. I am here now.’
The magician stole forward. He was not garbed in the flamboyant robes I’d expected, but in dark, close-fitting garments, such as those worn by nomad warriors of the wilderness. ‘You are sceptical,’ he said mildly, ‘and that I understand, but perhaps if you and I could be alone with the prince for a short time, I could show you the nature of the affliction.’
‘Now is not the time for illusions,’ I said briskly. ‘We can all see the prince is gravely ill. Now, if you will step aside, my priest will carry his highness to my litter.’
‘No,’ said the magician, and for brief moment his strange dark eyes burned with an amber spark. He held my eye for a while, almost as if he could see through my mask, and during that time it was as if he and I were the only people in the room. I had never encountered such an intensity of gaze. Within it, I saw passion, fire and knowledge, but also a fierce kind of tragedy. It shocked me.
‘I am an illusionist, yes,’ said the magician softly, ‘but not just that. There are times for illusions and there are not. I am aware of the distinction, lady.’
I hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Leave us. Everybody.’
There were murmured assents from the king and his vizier, but forthright protests from my high priest. ‘Your reverence,’ Me
ni said in a strained voice. ‘Is this wise?’
I turned my head to him. ‘There is nothing to fear. Please, leave. I will call you shortly.’
Alone, Arcaran and I faced each other across the bed, where the prince moved feebly, uttering sighs.
‘I appreciate this,’ said the magician, ‘You will…’
I interrupted him coldly. ‘Do you know who I am?’
He frowned briefly, then bowed again, smiling. ‘You are the avatar of Sekt, the goddess on earth.’
‘Yet you speak to me with little respect. It’s clear to me that the king dances to your tune. Who and what are you? Why are you here? What is your aim in this?’
He continued to smile, apparently unflappable. ‘I appreciate your curiosity and concern. Here are the answers you seek. I am what you perceive me to be. I am here because I was summoned. My aim in this is to heal the prince.’
It was clear he sought to charm me, yet there was something – something – utterly compelling about this man. Merely being in his presence seemed to inform me he had seen many wonders of the world, that he possessed great knowledge. Perhaps he too wore a mask. However, I would not let him win me over that easily. ‘You prey upon the rich,’ I said. ‘You dupe them of their riches with your illusions.’
He grimaced, head tilted to one side. ‘That is a sour depiction of my profession, but not without some basis of truth. Still, I am a creature of many facets. Not all of them are based upon deception.’
I made myself totally still. ‘Show me this parasite, then. No tricks. The truth.’
Without further words, he leaned over the prince and gently turned him onto his stomach. He drew down the blanket. Reevan’s flesh appeared sallow in the dim light, the sharp ladder of his spine too close to the surface of his skin. The magician lifted the prince’s hair from his neck. ‘Look closely,’ he said. ‘To see it, focus beyond the prince’s skin. Try to look inside him.’
‘I am not easily suggestible.’
‘This is no illusion. Do as I say. You are Sekt. You must be able to see this creature.’
For some moments, I concentrated as he suggested, blurring my sight until my eyes watered. Then, it came. I saw nothing with my physical sight, yet, in my mind, I sensed pulsing movement, many legs and a presence of malevolence. If it had a form at all, it was a filthy smoky suggestion of a shape. I drew back, uttering an instinctive gasp. Even then, I was aware of the power of suggestion. This did not have to be real, simply because I’d perceived it, yet there was no doubt an evil odour of malice oozed upwards from the bed. It was like being in the presence of a crowd of people, who all hated me utterly. I made no comment, confused in my own thoughts.
‘You see?’ said the magician.
‘I see nothing,’ I replied carefully. ‘But I sense something. This may, of course, be an illusion emanating from you.’
‘It is not,’ said the magician softly. ‘Come now, great lady. You are Sekt, a goddess. The goddess perceives all, does she not?’
It came to me swiftly then how wrapped up I was in the trivia of mundane life. I lived fully in the corporeal senses, lolling around in the sun, uttering the first words that came into my head. And yet I was supposed to be divine, to see and sense all. Perhaps I had been too much the lazy lioness. ‘There are ancient rituals in the temple library,’ I said slowly, ‘which are designed to deal with possession by bodiless entities. It would perhaps do no harm to perform them.’ I stood up straight. ‘I must summon my priest.’
‘No, said the magician.
‘It is not your decision.’
‘I have another suggestion. Will you hear it?’
‘Very well.’
‘I have travelled in many lands and have seen many strange things. My knowledge has been gathered from every corner of the world. I have seen cases such as this before, and once a fire witch taught me how to treat the condition. The prince is afflicted by a spirit of the wilderness, a creature of fire. The people of this city have mostly abandoned the old ways, and while, in some respects, this ignorance has weakened the ancient spirits, in other ways it has made the people vulnerable to them. They have forgotten how to protect themselves, how to fight back.’
I remembered the dreams I had had, the smell of burned meat around the temple. ‘I have always believed that new gods drive out the old. Sekt is mistress here now.’
‘Yes, a goddess of fire. She is not that different. Like calls to like. What reason would she have to drive out her own denizens, only because they are known by a different name? This is why you can remove this parasite. In a way, it is your servant.’
I stared down at the prince. If this was true, I felt no kinship to the thing on the boy’s back. I could barely sense it. I realised then that the priesthood of Sekt had lost a lot of their magic. We were fat and domesticated lions, dozing by pools, licking our paws. Where was the lioness of the wilderness, breathing fire? Did she still exist within me? I had no doubt the magician had also thought these things. Perhaps he despised me for what I was; a mask with nothing behind it. ‘What was the suggestion you had to make?’ I said.
‘That you and I take the prince out into the wilderness, where I will teach you what the fire witch taught me.’
‘Why to the wilderness? Why not here?’
‘We need the elements around us. We need to tap their power. Too long have you hidden behind stone, my lady. I am offering you a great gift. If you are wise, you will take it.’
‘You are importunate!’ I snapped. ‘I am Sekt.’
‘Are you? Then banish this creature of fire now. Take it by the tail and toss it from the window.’ He stood back with folded arms, appraising me.
I was breathing hard. My veil fluttered before my face. Meni would never allow me to venture out into the wilderness alone with this man. He would not let me be so foolish and, if necessary, would physically restrain me. Yet there was a wild desire for me to take what the magician offered me. I sensed he spoke the truth. I wanted to be alone with him, buffeted by hot winds beneath an ardent canopy of stars. I wanted to conjure fire spirits, be the lioness of the desert. ‘It would be regarded as unseemly for me to venture out with you alone,’ I said.
‘Do they watch you so stringently?’
‘Are you suggesting deception? How will you spirit the prince from his bed without detection?
He smiled and I realised he was beautiful, like the sky is beautiful, or the raging of a storm. I had met no one like him before. ‘Remember what I am,’ he said.
‘When? How?’ I asked, breathless.
‘Tonight,’ he said simply. ‘Why delay? Will you be able to get away?’
I thought about the sleeping temple, the dozing guards, the great air of torpor that hung over its colonnaded halls from dusk until dawn. I could slip like a wraith from shadow to shadow, leap the wall like a lioness, land without making a sound.
‘I know what you are,’ he said. ‘You are a goddess, yes, but are you not also a woman? Are you not also a lioness? You crave adventure, even the hunt. You crave the ecstasy that freedom brings. Indulge yourself, my lady. Who will ever know?’
He was a friend to me. I had known him many lifetimes. In the night, in the wilderness, he would be a black lion, gliding at my side.
Once the king and Meni returned to the prince’s bedroom, I told them that I would perform the ancient rituals the following evening. I would need a day to prepare. Meni seemed a little bemused by my decision, and I knew that later he would quiz me about it, but he was loyal and did not voice his concern in public.
Outside the palace, back in my litter, I felt dizzy, almost sick. What was I doing? How had I become so infected with these alien feelings? The magician had conjured illusions for me, but I knew they could be real, because they did not involve magical ropes, phantom flowers, or even bittersweet memories. They were possibilities, a revelation of what could be. I had never craved freedom, yet now it seemed the most heady thing on earth. I had never felt the stirrings of desire for
a man, nor even curiosity, yet here it was, hot and burning in my belly. I should have known then, sent word to the king, had the magician drowned or beheaded. Yet, instead, I lay back among my cushions, swooning like a lovesick girl.
I could not wait to dismiss my servants from my presence this evening. The air was full of a tension only I could feel. Candle flames bent into a wind that was not there. Incense smoke curled to the side. Even now, I entertain a dangerous hope. I think of Aan, the husband I have never met, he whose face is beautiful. Has he found some way to escape his temple? Has he come to me wearing the face of a man? How can I think such things? And yet, I do not find myself thinking about the fate of Prince Reevan, or even what the magician will show me tonight. I think only of his face, of being near him, of the vast expanse of wilderness around us, the infinite sky above. I run my fingers over the mask that shrouds me. The gold feels hot like fevered skin. I feel it might crack like the skin of a serpent and then I will slither out of it, reborn. If he does not wither before me, he is the one, but dare I take that chance?
At each hour, boy priests sing litanies to the goddess and her heavenly entourage. At the hour after midnight, when only the young priests are awake, I slipped from my bed, took up the mask and placed it over my head. I dressed with speed and covered myself with a dark hooded cloak that I wear to walk through the gardens in the rainy season. As an afterthought, I clasped around my neck a golden chain, from which hung a lion’s eye stone, striped dark crimson and gold. Perhaps instinctively, I sought to provide myself with some kind of protection.
The temple was so quiet, and yet I thought I heard in the distance a rumble of thunder. For a moment, I wondered whether I would ever return there and such was my excitement that at the time I did not care.
It was as if I were invisible. I hurried past the open doors, beyond which lay sleeping servants. I undulated like smoke past guards who lounged at their posts, their eyes wet slivers that looked only upon dreams. The gardens were held in a humid caul of air. Lionesses sprawled beneath the trees, some upon their backs with their paws curled over their chests. I ran among them and none stirred. Lightning scratched across the night, but there would be no rain. The sky was a robe of stars.
Thorn Boy and Other Dreams of Dark Desire Page 27
