Closer, however, her breath caught as she saw that the headdress he sported was none such: the man’s upper torso and head was that of a golden leopard. Her instincts yammered for her to run but she was frozen, unable even to scream. He stopped before her and eyed her up and down. Those eyes were bright amber slit by vertical black windows into deep pools of night. His black lips pulled back over jutting fangs, grinning perhaps.
Exhaling, Saeng managed to force out: ‘Who – what – are you?’
‘You know my brothers and sisters,’ he answered, his voice appropriately deep and smooth.
‘Brothers? Sisters?’
The monster nodded, perhaps grinning even more. ‘Boar, tiger, bull, wolf, eagle, bear…’
‘The beast gods. The old gods.’
The creature gave an all-too-human nod of assent. ‘Yes. Some name them Togg, Fener, Ryllandaras, Fanderay, Argen, Tennerock, Balal, Great-Wing, Earth-Shaker … their names are too many for anyone to know them all.’
‘There is no leopard god among all those names.’
The man-monster closed the distance between them in a blur. Its black muzzle brushed across her face as if taking her scent. ‘You have the right of that, Priestess. I am the one none dared worship. And do not mistake me, child. I am not a scavenger. I never skulked about your villages. To me you are the beasts. You are just another kind of pig. I am the reason your kind fear the night.’
Saeng turned her face away from the stink of its hot damp breath. ‘What do you want from me? You name me priestess. I am no priestess.’
‘You are that and more. Priestess, witch, mage. All we possess, all we know, has been poured within you.’
‘Poured? What do you mean?’
The creature tilted its head as if considering its words and paced off a distance. ‘The future, child. Any one point in time leads off into a near infinity of choices. Yet a blight sits astride an entire span of these. A catastrophe is threatening. Some of us see its approach. Others…’ his voice hardened to a snarl, ‘those who would stand aside, choose to ignore it.’
‘What does this have to do with me?’
‘It is possible that you may either ensure it or avert it. The choice is yours.’
Saeng found that the edge of her terror had eased. In fact, she was becoming rather irritated. She threw out her arms. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about!’
The creature turned its feline head to face her. ‘Really? You do not recognize where you are? Where I have brought you?’
‘Not a damn bit of it.’
Gesturing, the man-leopard invited her to approach the hillock. ‘Examine the façade.’
Saeng approached warily. She edged around the creature, giving it a wide berth. Next to the extraordinarily steep staircase the wall of the hillock, or temple, or whatever it was, held a wide band of sculpted figures. Vines and leaves obscured them, but they appeared to be walking in some sort of grand procession. They wore archaic costumes of short pants tight at the calves and their chests were bare – both men and women. All carried goods such as sheaves of grain or baskets of produce; some led buffalo, others pigs. She followed the processional along one side to where it ended at some sort of stylized tall shape: perhaps this very building itself. Some sigil or glyph stood atop the building and Saeng had to pull off the clinging vines and brush away the dirt and mat of roots to see revealed there the squat rayed oval that was the ancient sign of the old Sun god.
She flung herself from the gritty stone wall, nearly tripping on the many roots that criss-crossed the bare ground. She glared about for the creature but he was gone. Standing some distance off was a new figure, this one unmistakable as a Thaumaturg in his dark robes and gripping his rod of office.
As she watched, terrified, he raised his face and thrust the veined black and white stone baton skyward. The light dimmed as if dusk were gathering with unnatural speed and the colour of what light remained took on an unnatural emerald tinge. The disc of the sun itself seemed to diminish as though another object were swallowing it. Saeng had seen the sun eclipsed before but that event was nothing like this. The darkness deepened into a murky green as the object loomed ever closer. It was part of the Jade Banner, now descending, and it seemed as if it would swallow the sky, the world, entire.
‘And behold!’ the Thaumaturg bellowed into a sudden profound silence. ‘The sun is blotted from the sky!’
Now a roar gathered so loud it deadened her hearing. A mountain of flame fell upon them. It obliterated the trees, the man, the ground, herself, even the enormous mass of stone behind her as if it were no more than a clot of dirt.
* * *
Saeng awoke gasping and clutching at the dry leaves beneath her. In a quick step Hanu was next to her.
‘What is it?’
She forced her hands to relax, eased her taut jaws and exhaled. ‘Bad dreams.’
He answered with something like a mental shrug of understanding. ‘Yes. But now that you are awake we should go.’
‘Fine!’ She pushed back her hair and suppressed a groan; it was hardly dawn. She broke her fast with cold rice. Their supplies were getting low. Another day, perhaps, then they would be searching for mushrooms and roots.
They climbed down the overgrown rocks just as dawn brightened the eastern treetops. Beneath the canopy it was still dark and Saeng struggled to keep up with Hanu. Off a way through the trees an immense shape reared, easily three times the height of any man, and Hanu froze in his tracks. A great black muzzle turned towards the cliff outcropping and sniffed the air.
‘Back to your home!’ Saeng urged the huge cave bear. ‘We will trouble you no more.’
A growl of complaint rumbled their way; then the beast fell back to his forepaws, shaking the ground and sending a shower of leaves falling all about, and lumbered off. Hanu turned his helmed head her way as if to say: that was too close for comfort.
She waved him on, dismissing the entire episode.
Their return route was much more direct than their way out. They found the countryside deserted. Thin smoke rose from the direction of the village of Nan and this troubled her more than seeing villages merely abandoned. Were the Thaumaturgs burning as they went along? Yet why do that? To deter desertion? She hurried her pace.
It was past twilight when they entered familiar fields. Hanu motioned aside to the woods where Saeng most often used to hide to confer with the ghosts of the land. She went on alone. At least the village hadn’t been burned, yet most of the huts were dark where usually one or two lamps would be kept burning against the night. Their family hut was dark as well. Trash littered the yard and the reed door hung open.
‘Mother?’ she hissed. ‘Mother? Are you there?’
Inside was a mess. Looters, or soldiers, had come and gone. Anything of any possible value had been taken, as had every scrap of food. Through a window she saw that the small garden had been dug up and that the chickens and pigs were gone. Saeng searched her own feelings and found that she really didn’t care that the hut had been ransacked, or that her few meagre possessions had been taken. All that concerned her was her mother. Where was she? Was she all right?
She headed to the nearest light and found Mae Ran, one of the oldest of her neighbours, sitting on the wood steps leading up to her small hut. ‘Who is this?’ the old woman asked in a fearful quavering voice as Saeng came walking up. ‘Are you a ghost to trouble an old woman?’
‘It is Saeng, Mae. What has happened here?’
‘What is that? Saeng, you say?’ The old woman squinted up at her. ‘Janath’s daughter?’
‘Yes. Where is she?’
‘Saeng? Back so soon?’
‘Back? What do you mean – back?’
‘Janath said you’d gone on a pilgrimage to some temple or other…’
Saeng pressed the heel of a hand to her forehead. Gods! Mother! ‘Well … I’m back. What happened?’
‘What happened?’ She waved a shaking hand to encompass the village. ‘The Thaum
aturgs came and took what they wanted. Food, animals. The hale men and women. Only we elders and babes left now. Every decade it is so. It is as I have always said – no sense gathering too much wealth to yourself, for the gods will always send a plague to take it from you. If not our Thaumaturg masters, then locusts, or fire, or flood. Such is the lot of humanity…’
Gods, old woman! I did not ask for a sermon. ‘Thank you, Mae – yes. I agree. So, where is my mother? Is she well? Where did she go?’
Mae blinked up at her, confused, and Saeng saw her eyes clouded by the milky white of cataract and her heart wrenched. Ah! Ancients! I am too harsh. Who remains now to look after this elder? Or the others? Could they labour in the fields? Harvest bark from the trees to boil to quell the pangs of starvation? And the infants? Who shall mind them? The army of our masters obviously judged them too much a burden to be worth their effort. How dare I denounce them for it yet prove as heartless?
‘Go?’ the old woman repeated as though in wonder. ‘Why, nowhere. She is with Chana, her mother’s brother’s youngest.’
‘Ah! Aunt Chana. Thank you. You take care of yourself, Mae. Take care.’
The white orbs swung away. ‘We must hold to what we have, child. It is all there is.’
‘Well – thank you, Mae. Farewell.’
Saeng backed away from the hut and made for her aunt’s house across the village. It seemed strange to her that her mother should have gone to Chana’s – ever since she could remember the two had only bickered and argued. Nearing the dwelling she found light flickering within and she stopped at the steps up to the front porch. ‘Hello? Auntie Chana? It’s Saeng…’
Thunder rumbled in the distance while she waited, and a thin mist of the last of the evening rain brushed her hair and face. Clouds appeared from the east, massing for another downpour. ‘Saeng?’ a voice called, her mother’s. ‘Is that you?’
She appeared on the veranda, a young child at her shoulder. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
Saeng nearly gaped. ‘Mother,’ she answered, outraged. ‘What kind of welcome is that? I was worried sick about you. I came to check—’
Her mother waved a hand. ‘Oh, I am fine. I’m helping Chana.’ She indicated the child. ‘Look, little Non.’
Saeng frowned her puzzlement. ‘Non?’
Her mother rolled her eyes. ‘Chana’s husband’s sister’s son! You know! Non.’
‘No, I don’t – I mean, I know the name,’ she finished lamely.
‘Oh, and old man Pelu? Next door?’
‘Yes?’
‘He’s dead. His heart gave out when the Thaumaturgs came through.’
‘Ah. Thank you, Mother. I really needed to know that.’
‘Well, I thought you’d be interested. You liked him. He always gave you candied pineapple. Remember when you were four you ate so much you threw up?’
‘Mother! Our house has been ransacked!’
She pressed a hand to Non’s head. ‘Quiet! You’ll wake him. Yes, they came stomping through in their muddy sandals.’ She looked to the lad nuzzling her neck. ‘But we’ll clean it up, won’t we, Non? Would you like to help your auntie?’
Saeng took a step backwards to steady herself. She felt outraged. Didn’t her mother care? Yet here she was busy and needed – getting on with her life. Holding on to what she has. ‘I was worried about you…’
Her mother smiled warmly. ‘That is sweet of you, Saeng. But worry about yourself. They asked about you, you know. Questioned everyone. They claimed you were an agent of the demoness! What silliness! No one said anything, of course.’
Now Saeng thought she was dreaming still. No one said anything? Her thoughts must have shown on her face as her mother tsked and said, ‘Saeng, really … you’re related to half the people here. And everyone’s proud. You’ve kept the Nak-ta quiet for more than ten years now. No one’s been taken in that time. Not like Pra-Wan. What a terrible time they’ve had of it there!’
Saeng felt like sitting down to steady herself. Was this really her village? And what of Hanu? Should she tell her? Perhaps not – she would want to see him and that would be too cruel.
Her mother reached out to smooth her hair. ‘Poor Saeng. You always held yourself apart. You spent more time with those awful spirits than the living.’
Saeng bit back her argument that it was her beliefs and manners that had held them apart – wasn’t it? Yet it was too late to revisit such ground. Gently she removed her mother’s hand. ‘Well, I know what to do now, Mother. You were right. There is somewhere I must go.’
‘Of course, Saeng. I knew it would come to you. You are the eldest daughter of the eldest daughter going back generations. It has always been so.’
‘Goodbye, Mother. Take care of little Non.’
‘Of course. That is also how it has always been.’
Saeng kissed the palm of her mother’s hand and turned away. On a path east of the village Hanu fell into step with her. Other than the firmness of his footsteps only the deep green glint from the inlaid stones of his armour revealed his presence in the absolute dark of night.
‘And Mother?’
‘She is safe, Hanu,’ Saeng sighed. ‘She is safe and well.’
* * *
When the door to her private chambers was thrown open, Hannal Leath, abbess of Tali’s monastery of Our Lady of the Visions, threw the covers over the naked body of her latest lover and glared at the offending acolyte. She wanted to say something properly majestic and abbess-like, such as: What is the meaning of this intrusion? But what slipped out was a high-pitched: ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
The young acolyte stood blinking at the bed, wide-eyed. Hannal followed her gaze to the impressive tenting of the sheet over her lover’s midsection. She slapped Javich’s thigh and he rolled on to his side. ‘What is it?’ she repeated.
The young woman swallowed, flushed. ‘She’s on her way, m’lady.’
‘What? Whatever do you mean?’
‘The contemplation pool. It’s glowing. She’s coming. Now.’
Hannal leaped to her feet on the bed, naked. ‘What? Now? Great impotent gods! You,’ she kicked Javich, ‘get out of here! You,’ she pointed to the acolyte, ‘collect my clothes.’
‘Yes, Abbess.’
Hannal paced the bed. ‘Of all the shrines and temples and schools … she has to come here?’ She clutched at her neck. ‘What have I done? Have I displeased her?’
Javich opened his mouth to say something but she pointed to the door. Bowing, he backed out, a sheet gathered at his waist. The acolyte handed over her clothes and she hurriedly dressed.
* * *
Ahead, up the hall of the monastery, a silvery light played among the pillars and stone arches. It rippled over the marble flags, the domed roofs and wall niches making it seem as if the entire building were underwater. As Hannal approached the inner sanctuary, she saw that the light spilled out of the doors to the central cynosure. She paused at the threshold, hands on the tall door leaves, already short of breath, and took in the milling crowd of nuns, guards and acolytes. She snapped a finger. ‘All of you – out. Now!’ She stood aside and they hurried past her, robes hiked up, feet slapping the polished marble floor. She took hold of the leaves. ‘No one enters,’ she told the guards. ‘Is that understood?’
‘Yes, Abbess.’
‘Good.’ She slammed shut the doors.
Oh, gracious goddess, what am I going to do? She ran to the stone lip of the central reflecting pool. Its quicksilver liquid rippled and shook as if agitated by her own anxieties. What am I to do? One touch and I’ll burn to ash!
The surface of the liquid metal bowed upwards in a wave as if disturbed from below and she hissed her uncertainty. Tongs? A fork? No – anything would burn. Centuries of Warren-ritual have gone into this instrument and I don’t even know how it works!
A hand emerged through the surface. The quicksilver beaded from it, running between the fingers. Hannal gaped, then thrust up her sleeves
. Well – only thing for it. She reached out and clasped the hand, then gasped her exquisite pain as she found the flesh beyond frigid cold.
The hand tugged, almost heaving her over the raised lip of the pool. But Hannal had been a soldier before answering the call of the Queen and she had strong thighs. She braced herself against the ledge, pulling back just as insistently. An arm emerged – and not a shapely dancer’s arm: a thick muscled limb, and quite hairy. My goddess has the arms of a washerwoman!
Hannal yanked even more strongly despite the fact that the skin of her palm and fingers was cracking and the blood was hissing and smoking as it dripped to the pool’s juddering surface. She slapped her other hand to the wrist and hauled. A scalp emerged bearing straight brown hair. Another arm splashed up from the pool spraying droplets that burned where they touched, but Hannal clenched down on her agony and heaved with all her considerable muscle and heft.
Something gave, or a tipping point was reached, and the figure slipped towards Hannal as if down a slick chute to flop over the lip of the pool and fall to the stone floor in a slapping of limbs and grunts of pain. The quicksilver liquid ran over the marble, hissing and eating into the surface until it dissipated into mist.
Hannal got down on to her knees and lay prostrate on her stomach before her goddess.
‘Oh, just help me up,’ the Queen of Dreams croaked.
* * *
Abbess Hannal threw open the doors to the cynosure of the monastery. Beyond, the gathered acolytes and guards stopped their whispering and hushed arguments. She knew she appeared a fright in only her thin shift scorched and burned through, with further red burns down her arms. ‘Bring warm water, towels and clothes,’ she ordered, then slammed shut the doors.
Much louder murmurings resumed out in the hall.
She hurried back to where the Enchantress now sat on the lip of the pool, wrapped in her outer robes. She was examining her arms, pinching the flesh of her hands. ‘It has been … a very long time,’ she said to herself.
The Malazan Empire Series: (Night of Knives, Return of the Crimson Guard, Stonewielder, Orb Sceptre Throne, Blood and Bone, Assail) (Novels of the Malazan Empire) Page 276
