The Revenants

by Tepper, Sheri S

‘I am Taniel,’ she said.

  ‘Taniel is dead,’ Leona mumbled, stupidly.

  ‘No,’ the woman said, offering the cup once more. ‘No. I am Taniel. I live still. As do these of my kindred, the Remnant, whom you have seen.’ Presently she added, ‘I have sometimes wished to be dead, but it is necessary to live.’

  ‘Who are they?’ Leona drew her body up stiffly. The woman before her was of a familiar kind, a person, only a person and not an agonized flame.

  ‘They? The Remnant – the Remnant of those who were in Tharliezalor. The Remnant of Thiene. The Remnant who were left after they presumed to do what should not be done. Some call them the Remnant in Orena, the Undying Ones. You may call them what you will.’

  ‘I will not call them anything. I will go away now.’

  ‘No. Not you. Not I. Time is spun to this point, and we are upon it. We may not go away, for there is no place to hold our going. Where may we go? What place is there to receive us?’

  Tears fled down Leona’s cheeks to fall unregarded upon her hands. ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘Ah, but you are one of ours, Leona. One of those in whom Urlasthes found the Great Beast and set it free. One he created, freed, like Hazliah. Oh, what wonders he wrought. Leona! What wonders. It is failed, gone. Now there is only the silence, the endless wounds, the maiming without cease.’ The woman fell silent, only to look up with an expression of childish naivete. ‘Can you help us?’

  ‘Help you?’ Leona cried in her hawk’s voice, drawing in the thin air like a draught of acid. ‘Help you} What are you doing? Planning? Readying yourself for battle? How will you help us?’

  The woman who called herself Taniel was mildly astonished. ‘Help you? We can do nothing. The Remnant have done all they can do, all that could be done. They are too maimed to do more. Urlasthes says that if we had the Crown of Wisdom, given, so it is said, by the Spirit of Air in past ages. … Or, if we had the Vessel of Healing given by Earthsoul in the time long gone … well, then we might do something. Heal them, somehow. Grow wise enough to answer. Without such, our hope is gone.’

  Leona laughed, shockingly, hysterically. ‘So this is the source of all your calm, Hazliah? This bland cowardice? This furtive acceptance! Oh, you want so little, woman! You are no more the Taniel of whom the Sisters tell than your Remnant are like the giants of old. You want so little! A crown? Well, I have no crown but this maiden circlet I have worn since childhood, and you are welcome to it. The Vessel of Healing? Why not? Why should I not be merely a messenger to bring it to you for your need? I know nothing of the worth of your Remnant. If your Urlasthes did indeed create me, then I owe him nothing, but let him have the Vessel. A gift. For which you may bless the name of Fabla for whose sake it was sought, and of Jasmine who gave it.’

  Flinging the flask and her circlet at the woman, Leona laughed until she wept and was drawn into Hazliah’s arms to rest against him as he murmured. ‘Naa, naa, naa, shh, shh,’ as though she had been some horse or dog he quieted in its fear.

  When she had sobbed herself quiet, he sat with her still as she blurted bitter apologies and recriminations through a throat grown tight with weeping. ‘I am suddenly weak as a child, weeping, which I have never done…. No. Bombaroba is a child, and he would have behaved better.’

  He said, ‘I know none who have first looked upon the Remnant without weeping, Lady … Leona. When we see them first, we go sleepless and in anguish. Few in Orena can bear to come here at all. Only Taniel has been strong enough to survive this close contact throughout the centuries. You have not disgraced yourself, Leona. You have done well. You do well still.’

  She wiped tears into her hair, loosened from its knots when she had ripped the circlet away. The circlet was gone, the Vessel was gone, the woman had taken them. ‘Who are they? What are they?’ She leaned against him, not yet able to sit upright.

  ‘I will tell you what I know. After the Thiene left the world, long, long ago, they lived in Tharliezalor – “High Silver House” that was – beside the eastern sea. They were few, very wise, but some were of one mind and some were of another concerning the goodness of Earthsoul and the ways of wisdom.

  ‘One group was led by a man named Omburan – for the Thiene were men, whatever else they may be. His was the way of long silences, of joining with the earth in understanding, of walking the earthways. The other group was led by Urlasthes. It was he who found a way to create life in new forms, changing and combining it. One of the followers of Urlasthes went away into the west where he created a whole people and was destroyed by them. I have seen these people, people of rock, worshippers of horses. But Urlasthes meant to do more – more than that.

  ‘He decided to change himself, himself and those other Thiene who followed him, to make them perfect.

  ‘There were seven: Urlasthes, and with him Talurion, Audilla, Lucimbra, Lendhwelt, Telasper, and Vincepthos. Seven. They thought that they would do a kind of surgery upon themselves – oh, not anything so crude as with a knife, no–and cut away all evil, for they said that mankind had in himself all goodness and all evil, and if the evil were cut away, only the good would remain.

  ‘So, they did whatever it was they did. They prepared a vessel into which the dark forces should be drained away and held. She who names herself Taniel told me that. And when the thing was done, they awoke to find the vessel full, alive, and they had no power to kill it or join with it again, for it would not.

  ‘It is there. Now. Beyond the Concealment.

  ‘And from it comes all this–Gahlians, ghosts, monsters, horror and despair.’

  ‘What have they done about it?’ asked Leona. ‘All this time, these centuries. What have they done?’

  ‘Tried to undo, so says Taniel. Tried to rejoin, but could not. That will not be bound to them again. Unless the Girdle of Binding itself were to be found, that will live and thrive, unchecked.

  ‘When they had lost all hope and could do nothing more, they came here to Orena. There were others once, but I do not know what became of them. Perhaps they all died, one by one, except Taniel. Except for the Remnant. They, it seems, cannot die.

  ‘And now, as Taniel says, the world spins to a point, and we are upon it. Had you truly the Vessel in your keeping? And the Crown? Truly? Or was that only mockery?’

  ‘Only half mockery,’ she murmured, falling into a comforting drowse of exhaustion upon his shoulder. ‘It is the Vessel, the very Vessel, but the Crown is only my maiden circlet, my cast away, given me because it was not worth giving. But the Vessel, yes, it is the one from which healing was poured for Jaer….’ She drifted into half consciousness, wearied by some trial she had only half perceived. Through a mist of dream she heard the woman return and speak to Hazliah.

  ‘The Remnant sleep, who have not slept this thousand years. On the brow of Urlasthes, the Crown of Wisdom broods over its lesson. Comfort her, Hazliah, for she has given much.’

  And Hazliah, answering, ‘Then it was truly the Crown as well?’

  ‘Did she not know she bore it? How could she not know?’

  Leona did not hear his answer. When she woke, she was alone upon the high pave and the sky darkened toward evening. Struggling with a sense of shame and confusion, she rose to see Hazliah coming toward her, the circlet and the Vessel in his hands.

  ‘The Remnant is gone, Lady.’

  ‘Gone?’ The word was without meaning. Was there anywhere to go?

  ‘To the Concealment. They slept, gained wisdom, gained courage, perhaps were healed. Some of our kindred, yours and mine, bear them eastward. And I am bid return these great gifts to you and tell you to guard them well and be joyous, for you carry the wealth of ten kingdoms and the marvel of the world.’

  ‘The circlet is only …’ she began.

  ‘Is the Crown of Wisdom, given to the Kingdoms of the South in the ages gone, Gift of the Spirit. Oh, Lady, have you never wondered how it was that you have come scatheless through all this world’s dangers, how it was that Murgin fell be
fore you and that you have done what no other has ever done?’

  She turned the circlet in her hands, rubbing her thumbs over the smooth stones, simple and dark, like birds’ eggs, shining with quiet light. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I only wore it out of anger because it was not new-made for me.’

  He took it from her and placed it firmly on her head as though dressing a recalcitrant child. ‘Lady, we have need of you and of this Crown, new-made or no.’

  She thought suddenly of Bombaroba, of the grey-haired scouts and the young Sisters who had sung their days away crossing the plain, all in that instant dear to her as no others had ever been dear. ‘I will go see my boy, Hazliah, and my dogs, and have them about me for a time. Then you may make what use of me you will. If this is a Crown of Wisdom, then it is a Crown which does not tell all it knows. It gives me no answers.’

  He smiled at her, reaching out as though to stroke her hair. ‘That you are here, Lady, may be answer enough.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ORENA ARMED

  Days 11-15,

  Month of Sowing

  ‘The count of the defenders of Orena is this,’ intoned Systrys in the armouries below the Temple. ‘Of the Sisterhood of Taniel, fifteen full Choirs and the young women of Gerenhodh. Of the kindred of Hazliah, thirteen who remain in the City, for seven carried the Remnant eastward and have not returned. Of the people of Orena schooled in battle, fifty regiments of two battalions. Of those able to fight as reserves, perhaps two hundred reserve battalions. Of weapons, there are ancient ones upon the heights, yet none are of use against the mists which come to the cliff edges south and west.’

  Leona heard. They had offered to set the command of all this into her hands, like a ball into the hands of a child. She had refused, only advising now and then as an idea came to her, always uncertain whether it was her own thought or some message which reached her from the Crown. Most times she disbelieved that it was the Crown of Wisdom. All of the time she disbelieved that she was able to use it to advantage. So she went about with Bombaroba tagging at her heels, with Mimo and Werem tagging at his, hearing what the Choirs could do and what the weapons could or could not accomplish, wondering why it was that the hosts gathered against Orena but made no move.

  ‘They are waiting for something,’ one of the Gerenhodh Sisters said. ‘We can hear them, see them, sense their apprehension of someone or something coming – something we cannot see.’

  ‘How much warning will we have?’

  ‘The things which live and breathe will not move any faster than their feet can bring them. The Gahlians with their Tharnel worms and their other monsters – well, we may have a few hours, at best, before they reach the ramparts.’ This was Hazliah, conferring with others as he spoke. ‘The mists can come over the cliffs in an instant. It is useless to oppose them. They can flow into the valley and across the valley to the city. The Sisters want to know what they are to do, try to hold the valley or merely the city? Are they to try and sing quiet upon every mountain, or upon some, or upon none?’

  They agreed to defend the city only, since it seemed useless to try and hold the valley with all its little fortresses. Once the mists had surrounded them, then the defenders would be lost, so all might as well be brought into the city. They set up a rotation of the Choirs so that some were awake and available at all times.

  ‘Where are we to sing?’ demanded one of the Choir Sisters. ‘There is no place large enough for more than one or two of the Choirs. Orena is not much given to public assembly.’

  For this question an answer was in Leona’s mind even as she spoke. ‘Have Hazliah take you into the Temple,’ she said. ‘In the very centre is a high hall beneath that place where the Remnant were. Set up dormitories in the armouries beneath so that none of you need leave the vicinity. Have the Temple entry and the ways below doubly closed and guarded. This will be our final fastness, our last redoubt.’

  This was set into motion while Leona wandered about the city and onto the cliffs again and again. The hordes gathered but did not attack. On the northern cliffs they were building something, but what it was, what its purpose was, no one could tell. From there she went into the Temple and up the shining core of it to the high place where the Remnant had been. Each time she saw Taniel, pale and silent, sitting motionless beside the parapet and peering into the northeast as though desire could overcome distance to show her what transpired there. Leona spoke to her, a few words. Taniel seemed to find it increasingly difficult to answer. On the fifth day after the departure, Leona touched the woman’s shoulder to find it cold, the face cold, the eyes unwinkingly directed to the north, the animating spirit fled away. She fetched Hazliah to query him as they stood beside the still body which seemed to shrink even as they watched.

  ‘How could she live so long, so very long, and go all at once? It is as though the life flowed out of her.’

  ‘It is said, Leona, that this Taniel was created–made by Urlasthes, called into being for his comfort, a symbol of his lost tie to all that lived.’

  ‘Not born? Made?’

  ‘Perhaps both born and made, perhaps neither. Perhaps dreamed into being. See. She fades to dust.’

  It was true. There before them on the spire the body crumbled and was gone, dust whirling away on the little wind. Leona found her eyes wet. ‘So long,’ she murmured. ‘To live so very long and to fade like a flower.’

  She went down into the city once more, sought out Bombaroba in order to touch the living and familiar.

  ‘They are going to let us become people of Orena, did you know that?’ die boy asked her. ‘They are going to give us parent-beads and all. Each of us must have five, Lady. Five who will be our parents for all our years of growing, to teach us and keep us safe and let us learn all of the old things. We are to find our parents, Lady, each of us.’ He did not say anything more but looked at her with such anxious inquiry that she could not refuse him.

  ‘Will you have me for a parent, Bomba? I would think it a great honour, a great gift. All the years in which I should have had children, you see, were used up in finding and guarding the wild places of the world. If you will not be my child, it is not likely I will have a child in this life.’

  He said little after that, but his smile was one of enormous satisfaction when he confessed that Leona was first and he must find four more. Gravely, Leona nominated Hazliah and Systrys and the loyal scout of the southern journey, Eriden. ‘If they seem good to you, Bomba. And perhaps one of the Sifters you know well?’

  ‘I would like it to be Teraspelion,’ he said. ‘Because she is the one I know best. But she did not come with us.’

  ‘Why?’ Leona asked him. ‘Why did they not come? At the time I did not question it, but now – now it makes me wonder.’

  ‘Doesn’t the Crown tell you, Lady?’

  ‘Oh, Bomba.’ She laughed. ‘The. Crown tells me nothing. When I know all that is to be known, then the Crown tells me what is wise to do. It seems that wisdom is only in knowing what to do about circumstances. Or maybe I do not know how to use it correctly. Which has nothing to do with picking parents for you. You must find someone else who pleases you.’ Then after a moment she said curiously, ‘Do the children of Orena always pick their parents?’

  The boy skipped a little as though he were a much younger child. ‘They must have their parents when they are born. The woman who has birthed the child, she picks them, Lady. It is a very great honour to be asked. No one parents more than two children at once for being a parent takes much time and attention. So they say. Of course, I am mostly grown,’ he interjected with a worried glance. ‘It will not take much time for you.’

  As indeed it could not. The ceremony of parenting was brief, and Leona’s gift to her son was one which would please him in time. She begged Systrys, if there was time, to find out all that was known about Leona’s people, and Hazliah’s and make this knowledge into a book for Bombaroba. ‘If we survive, he will find it interesting. If we do not, he will kn
ow that I intended it and cared that he know of his parent and her people.’

  But it seemed there would not be time for this work. On the day on which Bombaroba and some thousands others were made citizens of Orena, the Gahlians upon the cliffs finished the monstrous structure they had been building which had been hidden behind scaffoldings and screens. It bulked huge upon the cliffs, only a short way from the ramparts and towers yet separated from them by an intervening ridge of stone. The devices in the towers could see it easily, could see the individual black-robed Gahlians staggering away under heavy burdens of wood and rope, see the clot of red-robed ones gathered on a high platform to one side.

  Two of these, especially, caught Leona’s eye. They stood to one side, speaking together, and the listening devices picked up the tone and rhythm of their speech. Leona could not see beneath the hoods, but something in the way they moved seemed horribly familiar to her. She had heard those voices before. She had seen those creatures before. She struggled for a moment, then relaxed, letting her mind tell her what it was she already knew.

  ‘The cold-voiced one who came to the room in Byssa,’ she murmured to herself. ‘That one, the pursuer. And the other – I have seen that one more recently, seen as she sneered at our need in the Council of the Hill: Sybil, traitor singer. These two, here, together.’

  Beneath the Crown her mind felt chill.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  THE TWO CITIES

  Day 15, Month of Sowing

  ‘What day is it?’ Medlo had lost track of time during the long ride to Tharliezalor. He had felt as though he deamed of travelling with creatures who could not exist. He had listened to a naiad singing, accompanying her on the jangle, he had discussed the virtues of moss with an elderly being made of twigs and leaves; he had strolled between two unicorns, his arms across their backs while his horse followed patiendy. Days had passed in these encounters, and nights had gone under strange shadows moving between their fire and the stars. Time had vanished in this place where no men lived. ‘What day?’