'It is difficult to imagine,' Chaneen said.
'Nevertheless, it is true.'
'How did they change so?'
'We are at our beginning,' Rankar said. 'They are at their end. Perhaps it is for them as it will be for us.'
Chaneen shuddered. I would not wish it so.'
Rankar shook his head. 'Kratine does not wish to face his end. He fears it greatly, and I find that strange. The Asurians have had many
cycles to learn what was their right, and still they are not content. They want more time. They want our land.'
'Would they try again to take it from us?'
Rankar sighed. 'You heard him. He is full of deceit. He would destroy us if he could.'
Chaneen was disappointed. She had hoped, in spite of her own feelings, that Kratine was sincere. 'Does he have the strength to destroy us?' she asked.
'He lost many in the last war. But Asurians breed rapidly, as we do not. I believe that if there is another war, both sides will be so hurt that neither will be able to survive as a people.'
'Then he won't attack. He would be foolish to try.'
'If his own doom is certain, Kratine will attack just to bring us down with him.'
Chaneen closed her eyes briefly. 'I cannot see that.'
Rankar looked to the sky. 'What concerns me more is the hidden course he might adopt. One that would destroy us - as he surely intends - and leave his own people unharmed. In our talk with him he may have made an error and given us a clue as to his true designs. He said, "And I feel at ease with those I leave behind, knowing that above all else you would take no action that would harm your own children."'
I do not understand,' Chaneen said.
'Kratine would try to turn our strength into weakness. He knows he cannot attack us directly with hope of success, as he has proven to himself in the past at great loss. But perhaps he has devised a plan whereby he can come at us from within.'
'How could he do such a thing?'
'He asked for Tier and Janier.'
Chaneen felt a chill, the same cold she had felt that evening while looking in Kratine's eyes. 'But they are ours,' she protested.
Rankar took her hands in his. 'They are ours now. But should they go to Asure, they may become otherwise.'
'What are you saying?' Chaneen cried.
Rankar let go of her and slipped his hands into the waters again. I
only suspect, I do not know. Kratine's thoughts are difficult to fathom, but he is always shrewd. He plays on my desire to understand. He asks for Tier and Janier. He promises he will give an intimate look into Asurian ways. He tempts me with dangerous bait. But he knows that whatever fate Janier and Tier meet in Asure, we would be unable to destroy them when they returned - should their destruction prove necessary.'
Chaneen moaned. 'Why would we have to destroy them, my Lord? Would he change them?'
I do not know how or in which manner. But, yes, that is what I think he has planned.'
Chaneen shook her head, overwhelmed. 'Could he have given us his clue intentionally?'
'Perhaps,' Rankar said.
'But we must be certain. If he did want us to know these things, then his motives must be complex. Can't you penetrate his thoughts from within?'
'Not from here. Outside his domain, Kratine is like a shadow that gives off no light. It has always been that way.'
Chaneen pointed to the pool. 'Invoke the gods, then, and ask for their guidance. They will help us.'
Rankar nodded. 'Yes, we will have an invocation tonight. But not to seek guidance. I have already come to my decision. Tonight's invocation will be for the purpose of instruction. You must learn the secret of how to bring the fire.'
Chaneen was filled with anguish. 'Your decision? What is it, my Lord? Why do I need to know the secret of the fire?'
'I am going to return with Kratine to Asure.'
'No you cannot go. You say Kratine is filled with deceit. If you're harmed all the children will be swept away.'
'Would you have me send Tier or your sister?'
'No! None should go. We need not befooled by Kratine's wicked invitation. Surely you see that, my Lord?'
I cannot see what I do not understand. We cannot go your way.
Chaneen. Eventually, as Kratine's land fails further, he will be forced to attack, and we will all perish. Or he will try to ruin us in another manner, which will probably be through the corruption of our own children. No, I must discover the secret of his design and prepare a defense against it. Your sister and her husband can't do this. Only lean do this. I must go to Asure.'
'Send me instead, my Lord.'
'No. I cannot risk you.'
'But I cannot risk you,' she cried.
'It is the only way.'
'No. There is another. Destroy them...' Chaneen stopped herself, feeling the pain of her own words.
'Try to kill Kratine now?' Rankar asked. 'I have considered that. It would not be possible without summoning great force, and that very force would lay waste to the Garden. Kratine would not die easily, and his entire army would quickly follow in attack if he did die. You realize, too, Chaneen, that neither of us can be the first one to attack. It is against our nature.'
'You are leaving me,' Chaneen whispered, tears rolling over her cheeks and into the starry pool, where they sent a ripple across the universe she hoped the gods could feel. Rankar took her hands once more.
'I am sorry, Chaneen. I know you asked for none of this. But the flow of time is washing away our season of peace, and it is inevitable. We are being called upon to defend the natural order, for I deem Kratine is preparing to challenge the cycle of life and death itself, and pervert it to his own aims. But if he does this, I can assure you it will be his downfall. He cannot defy the highest gods without bringing down upon himself a power that has never been unleashed before, not even by me in the last war. That much is certain. Yet whether Kratine will bring the Sastra to ruin with him is still in doubt.'
'What is this power you speak of?' Chaneen asked. 'Is it not the secret of the fire?'
'It is the same, yet it is much greater. Tonight you will be shown the way of it. But I pray the gods never allow it to enter your being. If they
do, then it will mean that the end had already come and gone. But let me begin our invocation, so that you may learn the origin of fire, and the birth of the different lands.'
The next evening, not long after the sun had set, Kratine appeared before their throne. Tier and fanier flanked his sides, their swords sheathed in their belts. After the instruction of the previous night, Chaneen understood that their weapons were of no use against the Asurian king.
Kratine bowed. I await my Lord's decision.'
'Your two companions may stay in our Garden,' Rankar said. 'They will be well cared for.'
Kratine smiled. 'And the two who will accompany me?'
'There will be only one,' Rankar said.
Kratine hesitated. 'One, my Lord? Is that wise?'
'I will return with you to Asure, Kratine,' Rankar said.
A tremor shook Kratine's disguise and his form became less substantial. Chaneen glimpsed a huge head, dripping teeth, and red eyes. She also sensed a whirlwind of emotions, pleasure and triumph, coupled with surprise and fear. Finally his disguise turned steady once more, and he threw Janier a sharp glance. She retreated as if she had been struck. Then Kratine laughed.
'Very well, Rankar,' he said. 'Asure's honor will be that much greater. We will depart tonight.'
His sweet words were false, Chaneen thought, as false as the human flesh he wore. She knew Rankar was walking into a trap, and as her husband turned to bid her farewell, she also knew that she would never see him again.
Days later, in the middle of the night, Janier came to Chaneen while she meditated by the waters of the palace. Chaneen did not stand to greet her. She merely opened her eyes and said, 'You bring me sad tidings, sister. What has become of our Lord?' Janier knelt by her side, pain and fury burning
in her face. 'Our
scouts found afresh group of Asurians on the far side of the mountains.'
'What were they doing?' Chaneen asked.
'They carried Rankar's ring. Our warriors slew them.'
Chaneen found her breathing labored. 'You have his ring?' The rings were a gift from the gods to Rankar and herself. They symbolized their love for all the Sastra. Chaneen looked at the one on her own hand and found it dull in the night air.
'Yes, 'Janier said.
'Give it to me.'
Janier hesitated, then drew forth Rankar's hewed finger from the folds of her gown. Rankar's ring shone brilliantly on what was left of his mangled flesh. Chaneen took his finger with shaking hands and pulled off the ring. Janier trembled by her side.
'Chaneen,' she said. 'There is more bad news. A massive army of Asurian warriors has landed upon the far desert, through a bridge of Kratine's design. It is a force of tremendous size. They march this way at great speed.'
'Can we stand against them without Rankar?'
'I am asking you, my Queen, 'Janier said.
For Chaneen there was confusion amidst her grief. Kratine shouldn't have been able to kill her husband, yet he had done so. Now all the Sastra were vulnerable. Indeed, they were doomed unless she called upon the Fire Messenger. But that was a power she had prayed never to have to use, a power that paradoxically relied upon her desire to summon it.
'What of the two Asurians Kratine left behind?' Chaneen asked. 'What do they have to say about this approaching army?'
'They have nothing to say. Tier cut off their heads.'
'I see,' Chaneen whispered. 'What is Tier doing now?'
'He has assembled the greater part of our people for battle. He awaits your commands.'
'My commands,' Chaneen echoed weakly.
'Chaneen?'
'Have him cross the mountains as quickly as possible, and attack the
Asurian army on the open desert, where my children can use their superior speed. Tell him to fight by day when he can. Kratine and his people crave the light, but are weakened by it. But Janier, you are to return to me after relaying these instructions. You are not to go into battle, not yet.'
'But I must fight, 'Janier protested.
'You will fight, you need not worry about that. But first you must stay by my side. Go now, then, and tell Tier that the gods will not forsake us in our time of need. Just be careful to return, my sister.'
I will do my Queen's bidding. 'Janier bowed and left the palace, running with the speed of the wind that was rising out of the west. Chaneen set aside the bloody ring and closed her eyes. Rankar was dead. Now it was up to her to guard her children. Yet, despite all that had happened, she still didn't desire vengeance.
TWELVE
There would be no white Christmas this year, Terry thought. He stood by a window in Dr Palmer's waiting room, looking down twenty stories at the late shoppers scurrying from store to store like so many busy ants. A hot, humid front had rolled in from the Gulf and was now stagnating over the city. If it wasn't for the crowds, one would never know it was Christmas Eve. Fortunately, Terry had purchased his presents early. For Lauren he had bought a water bed, which was being shipped to his cabin, and for Jennifer, a typewriter that could be programmed to form characters similar to her own handwriting. Jennifer had been writing a lot these days and deserved better than a ballpoint pen. Dr Palmer, her new shrink, viewed her writing as therapeutic. He thought it helped her to work out subconscious fears, a remark that gave Terry one more reason to think psychiatrists didn't know what they were talking about. Dr Palmer didn't even know what Jennifer was writing. She never showed her stuff to anybody.
The only reason Terry had taken Jennifer to Dr Palmer in the first place was because he had been desperate. Her nightmares were murdering her. She had lost ten pounds from her already thin frame, and she was having trouble functioning during the day. The doctor had come highly recommended from his partner at the paper, Tom Brenner, whose two ex-wives had praised Palmer highly. Initially the doctor had prescribed thrice-weekly sessions and potent sleeping pills for Jennifer. The latter had brought some relief; however, it was Jennifer herself who had proved her best doctor. She'd suggested she stay up at night and sleep in the day. She'd been out of school, anyway - they understood she was ill - so Terry let her try it. If she thought it would help, fine; and the rescheduling did bring great relief. The nightmares appeared unable to thwart her while the sun was in the sky. After work he would come home and wake her and together they would prepare dinner - or breakfast, whatever. Then they would write, he on his new novel, on which he was actually making some progress, and she on her mysterious story. She was a painstaking worker. She spent many hours to get a piece 'just as it was, Terry.'
Near midnight they would go for a long walk through the deserted streets of Houston. The regular exercise made them both feel better. It was weird, but while walking with Jennifer he never worried about getting mugged. When he was with her, he no longer felt he was even in the city, but in a wide-open space where any potential danger could be seen coming from far off. Certainly her lively conversation had a way of transporting his mind to better places.
She always wore the silver ring Professor James Ranoth had given her. It was not magical in the way Jim thought, she said confidently, but it did help her write her story. He wasn't sure what she meant. He had never been much into jewelry.
They talked about Lauren a lot, of course. In a way their entire life was now little more than a process of killing time, of waiting. Occasionally, though, Terry wondered if they were waiting for the same thing.
'Mr Hayes,' Dr Palmer's secretary said behind him. 'You
may go in now. Jennifer and the doctor are finished.'
Thank you.' He started down the hall toward the back office.
'Oh, Mr Hayes?' the secretary called.
He stopped. 'Yes?'
'Your fiancée's almost there, isn't she? I read in your paper they'll awake on the fourth of January.'
'You're right. But even then they'll have five days before they officially enter Martian orbit. It'll be six days before they land on the planet.'
'It must be exciting, knowing someone who's doing such great things.'
Terry resisted the temptation to tell her he wished Lauren was a dental assistant. 'It's a great privilege,' he said.
The secretary stood. She was a perky blonde, fresh out of college and looking for a Mr Goodbar. He'd seen the type before, and had had plenty of sex with them until they found out he was broke. Palmer's secretary went out of her way to keep him company while Jennifer talked with Dr Palmer.
'I have so much shopping still to do, Mr Hayes,' she said. 'I wish I had someone to help me.'
'Call me Terry, Carol. All my friends who are still alive do.'
Carol chuckled. 'I have to leave now. I won't get a chance to see you on the way out. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.'
'Merry Christmas,' he said. 'To you and your family.'
She blushed. 'Oh, I'm not married, Terry.'
Famous and exciting Dr Lauren Wagner notwithstanding, Carol was dropping hints. Terry didn't mind. He liked aggressive women or rather, horny women, who were not always the same. Yet he was being a good boy, and it wasn't
too hard. After Lauren, most women bored him. Carol certainly did.
'But you have a mother and father,' he said. 'You probably have aunts and uncles. Maybe even nieces and nephews. One of them has got to want to go shopping with you.'
Carol didn't know what the hell he was talking about. So she smiled. 'That's a great idea.'
He turned away. 'I'll see you after the holidays.'
'I'll look forward to it,' she said brightly.
Once in the doctor's office, Terry took a seat beside Jennifer, who was sitting in an oak chair three sizes too big for her and swinging her feet inches above an Indian carpet that depicted a scary scene of angels clashing with devils. Dr Palmer sat behind his desk an
d fought with his beeper, which wouldn't stop beeping. He was a nice man, although he was extremely ugly. He had been injured in a car accident as a teenager. His face had gone through a window and wrapped around a fire hydrant. At least that's how he put it. Plastic surgery hadn't worked well in his case, nor did his beard and moustache hide the rough spots. Oh, well, Terry thought, the man seemed happy enough, and he certainly charged enough an hour.
'How do things look this week?' Terry asked.
'Ted doesn't want to see me for two weeks,' Jennifer said. 'He says I'm all better. I told him I was never sick.'
Dr Palmer nodded. 'I'm beginning to believe her. She's more sane than me. Especially now that the nightmares are going away. I suggested to her that she start sleeping at night again and return to school.'
'How about that, Jenny?' Terry asked. 'You can't be an owl the rest of your life.'
Jennifer giggled. 'Whooo says?'
'I think you're just trying to dodge school,' Terry said.
'Which is a definite sign of mental health,' Dr Palmer added. Jennifer shook her head. 'I can't sleep at night. Not yet. But I'll finish my story soon, and then, maybe.'
Dr Palmer stood. He left his beeper beeping on his desk. 'You two can decide amongst yourselves. As far as I'm concerned, the crisis is past. I'll see Jenny in two weeks. Now I must rush. I have presents to buy, lots of expensive presents for lots of greedy relatives.'
Terry stood and took Jennifer's hand. 'I should have postponed the appointment,' he said. 'Carol tells me you had nobody else scheduled for today.'
Dr Palmer fetched his hat. 'Nonsense. Talking to Jenny is like a Christmas present. I've found myself waiting to see her again each week. In fact, I'm not sending you a bill for the last month.'
'I suppose I should argue with you,' Terry said. 'But I wasn't going to pay you anyway.' Dr Palmer laughed. Terry pointed to the beeping beeper. 'Don't you want to call in and see who wants you?'
'It's just my wife,' Dr Palmer said.
'How can you tell?' Jennifer asked.
'It beeps differently when she calls in,' Dr Palmer said. He led them toward the door, a hand on their backs. 'Oh, Mr Hayes, is your book about Ricky in the stores yet? I want to buy a copy for my wife. She hates bugs.'
The Season of Passage Page 12
