A Gathering Of Stones

KLUKESHARNA

Roaring with rage, Settsimaksimin landed on one point of a Hexa star; Simms came down at his feet. Maks clutched at Shaddalakh and gathered himself to snap out of this place wherever it was.

He was frozen there, Shaddalakh vibrated in his grip, but something blocked his access to the talisman. He gathered the remnants of his strength-threw all he knew and all he was into a bind-shatter Chant. His Voice was there. It made the dust jump. Nothing changed. The confusion of hums and whistles and other small ugly noises went steadily on around him. He’d never seen anything like this place. He understood nothing he saw, even less what he heard.

The dull gray light shuddered. Sparks came pouring into that dusty gray hell, shrieking as he’d shrieked. Geniod. He remembered them from the cavern.

Something caught them, something prisoned them in a glitternet of force lines above the dusty gray throne chair beside the Hexa. They quieted, he thought they were doing what he’d done, looking around, weighing their chances, deciding how to attack and free themselves.

The light shuddered again.

Palami Kumindri, her Housemaster Callam Cammam, another female figure. Simms gasped. “Esmoon,” he whispered. Finally the simulacrum of Musteba Xa, holding Massulit clutched against his bony chest.

Something snatched Massulit away from him, brought it swooping around to hover over Maksim’s head. His souls spun from the stone and fled back into him, swirling round and round in him, turning him dizzy with the euphoria of the Return.

When he recovered, the four of them were gone and the sack above the throne was jerking and jolting and brighter than before.

The light in that decaying dreadful room shuddered.

Brann appeared on the Hexa-point at his right, Tak WakKerrcarr standing behind her, his staff in one hand, his other hand resting on her shoulder. Massulit swept away from Maksim and rushed to her. She looked startled, caught it, stood holding it. “Maksi,” she said, “so this is why you didn’t answer the call-me’s.”

“That’s it. Tak.”

“Maksim.”

“Surprised to see you here.”

“Not half so surprised as I am.” He touched Brann’s cheek, returned his hand to her shoulder. “Seems to be one of the drawbacks when you grow fond of a certain turbulent young, lass.”

“Fond, hah!” Brann said. “You’re just a horny old goat.”

“That too.”

Maksim started to speak, shut his mouth as the light shuddered again.

Yaril and Jaril appeared at the next Hexa-point. They stood side by side, each with one arm about the other’s waist. Jaril held his free hand chest-high ivith Churrikyoo sitting on it. Two pairs of crystal eyes turned to Maksim, turned away; they chose not to greet him.

The light shuddered.

Korimenei appeared at the Hexa-point at Maksim’s left, a long-tailed beast on her shoulder. She wore Frunzacoache around her neck, the leaf within shining a brilliant green. She glanced quickly around, nodded as if she recognized what she was seeing, then she smiled at Maksim. “I missed you,” she said, “I thought you’d lost interest in me.”

“No, daughter mine, never that. Just unavailable as you see.”

“Take me as an apprentice?”

He laughed, a shout that filled the room with life and vigor and made its deadness even deader. “Kori, you don’t waste your opportunities, do you?”

“Doesn’t Tungjii say take your Luck where you find it? Well?”

“Of course I will. As you propose, so I accept. If we manage to get clear of this.” He looked round. “What is this place, anyone know?”

Brann sighed. “I forgot you hadn’t seen it, Maksi. Chained God. We’re in his body.”

The light shuddered.

Trago appeared on the Hexa-point beside Korimenei, frightened and uncertain. He held Harra’s Eye clutched tight against his chest and looked wildly around, started to speak to Korimenei, but didn’t; instead he bowed his head and stood staring intently into the flawless crystal sphere.

The light shuddered.

Danny Blue appeared with Felsrawg crouching at his feet. He flung out a hand and Klukesharna slammed into it. He stared at the talisman a moment, then looked round. “Family reunion,” he said. “Brann, Kori, Maksim, Changers. I was beginning to wonder if I’d see you all. It’s like trail stew, drop in the ingredients as before and stir vigorously. Simms, sorry to see you, man. Where’s the Esmoon? She ought to be here, seeing I’m infested with this thing again.” He held Klukesharna between thumb and forefinger and waved it about.

Simms chuckled, he was amused but there was an edge to his enjoyment. “Sucked up there,” he said and pointed at the glittersack; he was content to sit where he was at Maksim’s feet and didn’t try to stand. “I don’t think she’s enjoying it either.”

“Should hope not.” He reached a hand down to Felsrawg. “You gonna sit there or what?”

She moved her shoulders, looked disgusted. “I can’t get up,” she said. “I’m stuck here. Let me alone, fool.”

“Your call. Hey, Garbage Guts,” he yelled, startling Maksim and drawing a grimace from Brann. He was scowling at the broad sheet of milky glass spread across the front of the room. “What the hell’s going on?”

For several breaths nothing happened. Lights flickered, threads of god-stuff danced and darted, minor lightnings struck and rebounded. The noises got louder; though they weren’t music in any other sense, none of the euphony Maksim expected, there was a rhythm in those noises, a pulse not quite a heartbeat but similar; as they got louder, more demanding, their effect on him and the others intensified. There was a sense of something ominous getting closer and closer.

Maksim set himself to resist. He fought to tie into

Shaddalakh, fought to resist unnamed, shapeless demands the noises made on him. He fought the god.