The gathered courtiers went obligingly silent, and the light from the globe-lanterns dimmed except for the two directly over the center stage; they glowed more brightly as Erianthee stepped behind her screen and sat down. “This is the Story of Rachnoraj, and how he defended Jinoarthcaz in the time of the Recovery. This is the story that the Emperor Riast II has asked to see performed.” She waited until the audience was almost silent, then she went on, “More than any city facing the Drowned World, Jinoarthcaz had prospered in the long, hard centuries, and had emerged glorious and admired everywhere.” On the platform, mists gathered and became the towered city of Jinoarthcaz, set on the point of the promontory at the mouth of a curving bay above a long arc of a break-water. The harbor was crowded, rumbustious with masts on ships from all ports on the Great World, and the city was glossy with prosperity. “In this city lived a builder, the famed Rachnoraj, the Master of the Fortress and Palace of Zaroga-Jin, whose talent allowed him to build stronger and finer castles than any other builder in three Worlds. Unlike most of the occupants of Jinoarthcaz, he was not native to the place. It was said that he came from Haverartbow, but that might have been because his hair was dark-red, as is many of the Haverartbins’ hair, or it may be that he had August Ancestors from the Lost Time whose hair was red. Wherever he came from and whatever his lineage, he had become essential to Jinoarthcaz and Bangli Minnaeto, the Aycar of the city.”
Two filmy figures gathered in and took apparently solid shape before the rising walls of Zaroga-Jin, both in garments of long ago, both with strength about them. “These two men had long been loyal to one another, more dependable than brothers, and more comfortable than servant and master. They shared a love of the city and of Zaroga-Jin that superceded all other loves in their lives.” The two figures moved, extending their arms to the wonderful port and its splendid defenses. “In those days builders were not allowed to use spells to reinforce buildings, the talent for such things being of limited effectiveness, and the talents they were allowed to employ were those of the Brotherhood of Roadmakers and Bridgebuilders, the talents of calculation and safe construction.”
The men strolled past the elaborate break-water at the mouth of the harbor, and the Aycar motioned to his red-haired builder, and pointed toward the break-water, then to the Palace of Zaroga-Jin. “Bangli Minnaeto understood that one of the burdens of prosperity was the envy of those less fortunate, and he longed to secure all of Jinoarthcaz from every sort of danger, from those of conjure-storms to the assaults of enemies. Diun Beidohr, Firnij of Otsinmohr was one of those who begrudged Jinoarthcaz its good fortune, and enlisted the help of others to turn against the grand city. He called other warlords of the region – the Firnij Ambuprikoj Sanmuveth of Udugan, and the Mirkal of Zaralk, Encantheon Uwarnaz, answered his summons, willing to undertake an assault on Jinoarthcaz.” At the edge of the light cast by the globe-lamps, three more figures took shape, all of them leaning together, their hands held at the wrists to swear their oaths.
“Before Womotomaj, the Fabricator, and Garinekoree, they pledged to fight together until Jinoarthcaz was theirs or the port was in ruins.” The figures held up oil and salt and wine to the god and goddess, each showing their determination by slicing a finger as token of the lands they held. “They called the most powerful weather-witches in all of Theninzalk and the Drowned World to aid them. Four great weather witches answered the summons and joined the endeavor.” Four figures in various kinds of early gaihups gathered behind the three noble schemers, each in the stance to summon bad weather. The seven figures drifted closer to the city of Jinoarthcaz and rose into the air, to show they were working at a distance. They commenced their rites and rituals to summon up storms and great waves which they launched at the Fortress and Palace of Zaroga-Jin.
“So great was the skill of Rachnoraj that the city of Jinoarthcaz and the Fortress and Palace of Zaroga-Jin withstood all the storms that the weather-witches could conjure. Gradually their efforts grew less effective, and the four weather-witches departed in disgrace.” The four figures drifted off and dissolved into nothing, and the three treacherous nobles once again came together to plot.
“It was Encantheon Uwarnaz who thought to try pestilence next, and although the other two were less willing to have such a disaster befall Jinoarthcaz, they were persuaded by the promise of riches they could claim when the worst was over.” The three figures drifted to the side, where they waited together until a sinister figure appeared. “To bring the pestilence, they summoned one of the Night Priests of Ayon-Tur, who accepted their challenge to blight Jinoarthcaz with sickness and suffering such as the city had never seen.” The figure in the dark gaihups of the Night Priests began a writhing dance marked by sudden sparks and howls from unseen voices. The three nobles stepped farther back from the baleful magician, apprehensive of the power his talents commanded.
“The pestilence the Night Priest summoned was a wasting one, that paled and shrank flesh, then peeled it from the bones.” A figure formed, showing the progress of the White Fever. The audience gasped as the sufferer went through all the phases of the disease. “This was let loose on Jinoarthcaz. But Bangli Minnaeto was no fool, and he had engaged two Priests of Dallan-Noj, who strengthened the people and the city against the White Fever, so that it passed over the city and struck the lands of Encantheon Uwarnaz so that all Zaralk was sickened, and the Mirkal himself died of it.” One of the three nobles fell away, leaving only two to act against Jinoarthcaz.
“With their resolve strengthened by desperation, Firnij Ambuprikoj Sanmuveth of Udugan and Firnij Diun Beidohr of Otsinmohr decided to approach the matter another way, and after a somber discussion, they agreed on what they had to do – they ordered the strongest magician in Theninzalk to summon up Ondirpikeon, the Cyclical, with an offering that would hold the god to any task they demanded. They told Ondirpikeon to make a wave as high as the promontory on which Zaroga-Jin stood to wash away the Palace and Fortress as well as the harbor below.” The two Firnijes approached the suddenly looming figure of the god of eclipses, tides, earthquakes, volcanos, astronomy, geomancy, and inquiry. The god was less clearly shaped than the men, and more awe-inspiring because of it. His shoulders were vast as a mountain range, and his square-sleeved doga shimmered as if it were made of oceans. The audience hummed their approval of this glorious manifestation that reached almost to the globe-lanterns above the performance platform.
“Because he had been bound, Ondirpikeon had to agree to do this thing, but he visited Rachnoraj in dream and warned him of the wave that was coming. Upon waking, he informed Bangli Minnaeto of what had been revealed. He said there wasn’t time to build up the walls or raised the breakwater, but he offered to send out a summons to the Priests of Mirvex-Doz on the Drowned World, asking for whatever aid they could provide.” A flock of winged creatures went out from the Fortress and Palace of Zaroga-Jin toward the Drowned World, far to the west in the Linthrovee Sea. As the Spirits of the Outer Air soared over the audience, the approving hum grew louder. This was a more remarkable Shadowshow than anything Erinanthee had done in the past, and the most dramatic part of the story had not yet been reached.
“Two days passed, and then there came three Kuyumai from the Drowned World.” The half-human, half-seal creatures entered the breakwater, each carrying a message-case in its jaws. Bangli Minnaeto appeared on the main wharf to greet the Kuyumai, Rachnoraj beside him. “The Priests of Mirvex-Doz could not stop the wave that Ondirpikeon had vowed to provide, but they could summon an earthquake that would lessen it. Jinoarthcaz would be damaged but not ruined. It was less than Bangli Minnaeto had hoped for, but more than he had expected, and he sent his gratitude back with the Kuyumais in the form of a binding treaty. The Kuyumais departed, and Rachnoraj set about emptying the harbor and the city as quickly as possible.” On the platform, the city roiled with activity, and in the harbor, ships jostled to get out through the opening in the breakwater without ramming one another in their haste to leave. At the same tim
e, Rachnoraj had openings made in the breakwater so that the wave would not be trapped in the harbor, but would drain away as quickly as it came.” The frenzied escape continued as men worked on the long curve of the breakwater. Bangli Minnaeto returned to the Fortress and Palace of Zaroga-Jin, determined to remain, no matter what might come. Two small earthquakes shook the city, and a few of the paltry number of inhabitants remaining decided to depart. “All that could be done was done while Rachnoraj continued to work on the breakwater.” Everyone watching all but held their breaths, waiting for the next part of the story.
Then, at the rear of the Performance Hall, a tall wave rose up, as wide as the Performance Hall, and nearly as high as the ceiling. It rushed forward and struck the city of Jinoarthcaz and the Fortress and Palace of Zaroga-Jin, damaging many parts of the city and harbor, but falling away as rapidly as it came. The impact of this manifestation was overwhelming. A small number of the Court went so far as to cry out their approval while drumming on their chairs with their fists.
“Jinoarthcaz was not destroyed, and in rebuilding it became more glorious than it had been before. Even now, with most of the promontory fallen into the harbor and the old breakwater long-gone, the wisdom of Rachnoraj is not forgotten: give the unwelcome guest every opportunity to depart as soon as possible, and if danger is coming, prepare for it on its terms, not those of your wishes.”
The Performance Hall came brilliantly alight as the assembled courtiers hummed and hummed, and Riast himself went beaming to the platform to congratulate Erianthee on her extraordinary accomplishment.
5. Cross-purposes
In two nights the moon would be full and her three nights of Change would be upon her. Ninianee sat in the shelter of a herder’s hut doing her best to keep the small fire burning while outside the walls the wind crooned a ominous lullaby, stroking the hut with searching, gelid hands. When she left Vildecaz, she was convinced she had prepared adequately for the Change. But now she could not decide what would be best to do. She had planned try to confine whatever she became to a small area, such as a hut like this one, so she could keep from running amok by tying herself to a boulder or a tree, but now she realized that might not work out as she hoped. She knew she had to limit her activities during the Change; otherwise she might injure herself and her pony and mule as well, particularly if she Changed into a predator. She also ran the danger of wandering too far from her animals, her clothes, and her supplies, which would put her in even greater danger than she already was when she returned to her human form. Preparing for her Change had seemed a minor inconvenience when she set out, something she could accommodate without difficulty, having no one to avoid, no guards to elude, being on her own in the wilderness. Now that the actuality was nearly upon her, Ninianee was fretful.
Jenshaz and Danliree, enclosed in the byre attached to the hut, were resting after a day of arduous climbing over the crest of the Boarth Range. Ninianee could sense their fatigue and their satisfaction at finding such a protected place as this hut for the night. She lulled them still more with an image of approval and satisfaction, and perceived their ease increasing. She put another small branch on the fire, then took a fat sausage out of her food-chest and spitted it on a spindly branch hanging above the fire. She had a little wine left, and she had broken off a handful of icicles to melt in her cooking pot for water. Staring off into the middle distance, she considered her situation, finding it desolate. The Oracle’s answers, which had seemed so much more reassuring when she had first heard them now filled her with foreboding.
Where was she? she wondered. Had she reached Cazboarth yet? She was over the Crag and was now on the northern slope of the Boarth Range, descending toward the sea. But how far had she come? Was she near any village or town? There had been no signs on the trail that would indicate settlements near-by. Was she in Bindomaj territory or was that still ahead of her? She had been to the north side of the Boarthine Peninsula before, but her three journeys had been in summer and made by boat. She hadn’t realized how little she actually knew about the regions away from the coastal cities. If only Sinj Umver were still with her! He would have known how to find shelter, and where they were. Ninianee once again railed at herself for allowing the guide to leave her. But knowing her Change was coming, she realized that his presence would have been a problem, had he still been with her.
It all came back to the Change, she thought, and moved the pot of melted ice away from the flames. She would eat shortly, she reminded herself, and when she had eaten, she would feel less harried. Food and warmth would restore her and quite her anxiety. There would be time for calm reflection and the chance to consider how to proceed, paying more attention to the protective spells she had conjured to keep the hut safe than to making any coherent plan.
As she put together her meal, she began to assess how far she would have to go to find an inn or other similar place for her animals and her. She drank a little more of the melted ice, reminding herself to crack the ice on the water-trough before she lay down for the night. She decided to put a spell on it to keep it free-flowing, and to establish a bubble-spell around the hut, in case someone or something should approach in the night, for she still had the uneasy sensation of being followed, and realized it was something more than the protective spells Poyneilum Zhanf had put on the pony and the mule, which she had detected the morning she left Vildecaz Castle. As irritating as she found these spells, she was also relieved to have them, with winter settling in. She disliked having to create so many spells on her travels, not just because it was inconvenient to have to devote so much energy to them, but because they served as a constant reminder of the danger that surrounded her.
“This is absurd,” she said aloud to herself, running out of patience with her inability to get on as well as she thought she would. She tested the sausage and decided to give it a little longer before eating, taking refuge in this simple act, devoid of all but the most basic of pragmatic considerations – was it done? If only all her problems could be as easily solved. The complexities of her situation seemed to be increasing with every breath she took, and dealing with this most basic of dinners provided some relief from the worries gathering around her like shadows. Hunkering nearer the fire, she did her utmost to gather as much heat to herself as she could even as she decided to try not to think about the Oracle any more tonight.
She had just unrolled her blankets and was spreading them on the floor near the fire when she heard an imperious knock on the door. Stopping her work, she stared at the door, wondering who could have come upon her. The spells put in place in the last hours that should have alerted her to any approach had not sounded, which she found alarming. She glanced at the sausage, took up a useful cudgel and went to the door. “This hut is occupied.”
“I am aware of that, for I was sent to find you. Duzeon, I am the Bindomaj Amejgon, messenger to the Hircaj Chogrun, sent to invite you to join him at his capital Chamirjen by sunset tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. You are really quite close, given how far you have come.”
Ninianee felt a cold grue slip down her spine. “How did you know I was here?”
The Bindomaj chuckled. “Once our mountain scouts found you, we have been keeping track of your progress. You are near enough to the Hirc that Hircaj Chogrun decided it was time to issue his invitation, and dispatched me to find you.” Amejgon faltered, then resumed his message. “Although he doesn’t wish to force you to accept an unwelcome solicitation, he is sure that for the sake of Cazboarth and Vildecaz, you will agree to accompany me at first light.”
“How far is Chamirjen?” Ninianee asked, trying to sort out the many things contained in the invitation.
“Eight wyns, as we fly. On the ground, about ten. We should be there by mid-afternoon tomorrow without difficulty, no matter how short the days are becoming. The weather-witches say that no more snow will come for three days.” The Bindomaj spoke as if they were in the halls of Vildecaz Castle, not out i
n the blizzard-torn wilderness.
“Ten wyns is a long way to cover in cold weather,” said Ninianee said to buy herself some time. Tomorrow night would be the first of the full moon, and that would mean many difficulties. But if she refused the summons of the Hircaj Chogrun, then things might become more hazardous still, for once under the scrutiny of the Bindomajes, her Change would be no longer secret. The last thing she wanted was a company of Bindomajes chasing her, no matter what form her Change took this time. “I will accompany you, but if we must stop before nightfall, then we will do so,” she said, determined to make plans to save herself from discovery. She would have most of a day’s travel before she had to remove herself from the Bindomajes, and she promised herself to turn this time to good use. “I fear it would be incorrect to let you in, Amejgon. I apologize.”
“There is no need. I have no expectation of hospitality here, and would not accept it if offered, for respect to you and your House. In addition, Hircaj Chogrun ordered that I not intrude upon you. So for now, my wishes for a pleasant night. I will return at dawn when I will guide you to Chamirjen.” He made the high, grating cry of the Bindomajes to punctuate his pledge.
Clapping her hands to her ears, Ninianee thought that such a penetrating, unpleasant sound might well precipitate an avalanche. She knew better than to speak of this aloud, for any such observation might redound to her discredit in the Court of Hircaj Chogrun. With a restive sigh she went back to the fireplace and her sausage and its over-cooked skin. “At least I’ll get a few good meals in Chamirjen,” she said, trying to buoy up her spirits, then added realistically, “I hope.”
* * *
“Have you thought about the matters we discussed?” asked Dinenniet Meanaj as she and Erianthee strolled in the Imperial Gardens of Porzalk Castle. This was one of more than a dozen retreats set amid the walls and towers, turrets, keeps, halls, baileys, armories, parks, smithies, stables, coops, supply depots, granaries, storehouses, creameries, public buildings, forcing houses, follies, bake-houses, bath-houses, libraries, kitchens, out-houses of all descriptions, larders, dormitories, residents’ quarters, guests quarters, pavilions, spring-houses, vaults, and spell-rooms to put on and remove every manner of spell, all enclosed within the Theninzaylin traditional three defensive walls, all three of which were constantly manned at full complement of Imperial Guards. The front gate flew ranks of guest-banners and had platforms for heralds to address newcomers in the name of the Emperor.
The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise Page 31
