Echoes of the Great Song

Chapter Fifteen

The home of Methras was on the eastern outskirts of the city, close to the lumber yards, and closer still to a slaughterhouse, built two years ago on the old meadow. A hundred years ago the area had been highly popular with well-to-do Vagars, men who were not yet rich but who were climbing through the ranks of the merchant classes. Now it was run-down and shabby, though some of the older homes were well built, and occasionally fronted with marble.

Methras had walked the four miles from the wharf and, as he opened the small gate that led to the rear garden, he saw two horses tethered in the shade behind the house. He was tired and in no mood for company as he strolled along the garden path. A figure in a dress of sky-blue satin stepped into the garden. She saw him and ran to meet him. In her late forties, his mother was still a handsome woman, though her once-trim figure had thickened a little and there was now grey in her golden hair. She kissed his cheek. 'Welcome home, my son,' she said, taking his arm and leading him inside.

'Who is here?' he asked her.

'An old friend of yours, come to greet you upon your return,' she told him. 'And his uncle from beyond the Luan.'

Pausing in the kitchen he poured a long, cool drink of water from a pottery jug and drained it. Then he turned to his mother and smiled. 'It is good to see you. You are looking well. Is that a new dress?' With a wide smile she stepped back from him, and twirled. The heavy satin of the dress lifted briefly as she spun.

'Do you like it?'

'It is very becoming. Does this mean you are in love again?'

'Don't be sarcastic,' she scolded him gently. 'You think I am too old for love?'

'You don't look a day over twenty-five,' he assured her. 'Who is this lucky man?'

'He is a merchant, recently arrived from Pagaru. He is a fine man. Very witty and entertaining.'

'How old?'

'Fifty — or so he says. I think he's closer to sixty. But he's a fine figure of a man.'

'He would have to be,' said Methras. 'Now tell me who is here?'

'Don't you want to be surprised?'

'I don't like surprises.'

'You used to,' she said. 'I remember when you were very young…"

'Not now, mother,' he said, gently. 'Who is here?'

'It is Pendar.' She leaned in close. 'And he is rich now,' she whispered. 'You should have accepted his offer and joined him in partnership. Perhaps he still wants you.'

'I am sure that he does,' said Methras with a wide smile.

His mother reddened. 'Oh you know I didn't mean that,' she said. 'I know Pendar — ' she struggled for words — 'prefers the company of young men. But I know he values your judgement.'

Methras kissed her cheek. 'Of course. He loves me for my mind,' he said.

'What he needs—' she began.

Methras held up his hand. 'If the phrase the love of a good woman is hovering on your lips, do not say it. You are far too intelligent to be caught in that cliche.'

'What I was going to say is that he needs the guidance of someone he can trust. He has a way with money, but he is like a straw in the wind. You could help him, Methras, and become rich yourself.'

'I have no interest in wealth or power,' he said. 'I am a soldier. It suits me well.'

'You are very much like your father,' she told him.

'Too much — and not enough,' he said sadly.

Moving through the house, he entered the wide living area. Two men were seated in the archway leading to the front garden. Pendar, as always, was immaculately and expensively dressed. His pearl-grey tunic and leggings were woven from heavy silk, his shoes crafted from lizard-skin. He was tall, very slim and still boyish, his hair dyed with streaks of gold. The man beside him was more strongly built, with wide shoulders and powerful hands. His beard was silver and yellow.

'My dear friend,' said Pendar, as Methras entered. Moving smoothly across the room he embraced the soldier and kissed his cheek. 'It is so good to see you. How are you?'

'Fit and well, Pendar. Who is your friend?'

'Not a friend, exactly,' said Pendar. 'More a business acquaintance. He is a fine man. Trustworthy. His name is Boru. He is of the Banis-baya, a tribe who dwell close to the Well of Life.'

Boru rose and moved forward, his hand outstretched. Methras shook it briefly.

'Good as it is to see you, my friend,' said Methras, turning once more to Pendar, 'I must tell you that I am very weary, and was looking forward to some sleep this afternoon.'

'We won't keep you long,' said Boru. 'I understand you have just returned from a long voyage.'

'Yes, to the southern ice. It was successful.'

'By which you mean…?' asked Boru.

'We found what we were looking for,' he answered. 'That would seem to me to constitute a successful trip.'

'As I understand it, Vagars died upon the ice,' said Boru, 'and what was found made the Avatars more powerful than they were before. Some might argue that as a great failure.'

'A soldier of the empire would not argue so,' Methras pointed out.

'He might,' said Boru. 'These are changing times. The hourglass of history is about to be spun. Some men believe that within a few years these cities will once again be controlled by Vagars. What then will befall those loyal to the old empire?'

Methras did not reply. Ignoring Boru, he turned to Pendar. The golden-haired man was about to speak, but Methras lifted his hand and shook his head. 'Say not a word, my friend. It is best you leave, and when you return come alone. What I have not heard I cannot report.'

'He is right,' said Boru. 'We are wasting our time here.'

'No, it is my time you are wasting,' snapped Methras. 'Leave now.'

Boru swung on his heel and stalked from the room. Pendar stood still for a moment, confused. Methras put his hand on his friend's slender shoulder. 'Walk with care, Pendar, for the road you travel is very dangerous.'

'Boru is right,' said Pendar softly. 'The days of the Avatar are coming to an end. Once they are overthrown all their friends and allies will be killed. I do not want to see you hurt.'

'How can you believe the Vagars will be allowed to rule their own cities? If the Avatars fall then the Erek-jhip-zhonad or the Patiakes will conquer them, and they will have merely exchanged masters. Stay out of politics, Pendar. It will destroy you.'

'Their own cities?' countered Pendar. 'Do you not mean our own cities? Or is your Avatar blood taking hold? You are like me, a half-breed, caught between two races. If the truth was discovered even now we would both be crystal-drawn. The Avatars will never accept us. I will not give my loyalty and my life to people who would wish me dead if they knew of my blood. They are the enemy, Methras. One day you will see it too.'

'They are not all enemies. There is Talaban.'

'Ah yes,' said Pendar, with a mischievous smile, 'the beautiful Talaban. Do not be deceived, my dear. He is still a member of the god-race, and his long life is maintained by the deaths of Vagars, crystal-drawn against their will.'

'You must go now,' said Methras.

Pendar nodded, and gathered up his heavy black cloak. 'I think of you often,' he said. Methras walked past him and out into the late afternoon sunshine.

He stood there for some time, until he heard the two horsemen ride away. His mother joined him, linking her arm through his.

'Did he want you to work with him?' she asked.

'Yes.'

'Will you?'

'I don't believe that I will.'

'You could be making a mistake,' she said.

'One of us is,' he agreed.

The problems facing Anu were many. His 600 workers had begun work on the pyramid in good spirits, making jokes about the seemingly perpetual sunshine. After ten days, with the sun having inched its way to its first noon, the mood among the Vagars had changed. Anu felt the tension. It was bizarre to work for hours with the sun almost frozen in the sky, to sleep for five hours, and to awake with the sun still high. It jangled the nerves. Many men reported sick, others found difficulty in sleeping. Tempers flared, and on the fourth day one man slammed a hammer into the skull of a co-worker. One of the Avatar guards slew the murderer. Separated from the holding magic of the chest the two bodies rotted instantly, becoming covered in maggots. A hundred workers saw the scene, and it frightened them. Accelerating time, as Anu was discovering, produced a host of allied problems.

Bread became stale within minutes, fruit rotted even before it could be removed from the barrels. Grass grew at twenty times the speed. A man could sit and watch it grow. Anu eventually solved the food problem by adjusting the power of the chest to encompass the supplies. The same method was used on the plants and grasses that grew in the valley. But even so the mood among the hired men was deteriorating. Thirty had so far asked to be relieved, and this request was granted. They trooped home on the next occasion that Anu slowed the Dance to allow supplies into the valley.

At Shevan's suggestion he sent a request for fifty whores to be brought in, and built a series of huts for them on the edge of the valley. The service provided by the whores was free. The men were given special coins of baked clay, which the women collected against payment from the Treasury at the end of their allotted service.

This mollified the workforce for a while. Then came the interminable twenty-day night. Now the men grew more fractious, and several fights broke out. One of the workers committed suicide during this first period of night.

This puzzled Anu for a while, until he concluded that sunlight was somehow important to the brain, and without it men became depressed. Along with the services of the women he now allowed strong drink and opiates to be offered to his workers, and organized dances, competitions and other forms of entertainment for those who had finished their labours.

By the thirtieth day the foundations of the pyramid — a deep and perfect square of limestone blocks, stretching for 750 feet on each side — were finally laid in place. Anu arranged an impromptu party, allowing the men to vote for a Foundations King. The winner — a foreman named Yasha — was crowned with laurel leaves and carried around the foundations, which were then inscribed with his name. Anu liked Yasha, a big man, wide-shouldered and tall, with a booming laugh and a powerful way with other men. He was an imposing figure and his crew of thirty were the best by far.

Shevan watched the procession and smiled. 'They seem happier now, sir,' he said.

Anu nodded. The work was still slower than he had expected and he decided to make changes to the rotas.

From now on the crews would work in three shorter shifts instead of two long ones, and there would be rewards for those who matched the work targets set them. 'What is the hourly rate for placing the blocks?' he asked Shevan.

'A week ago it was six, but now we are closer to nine. It is getting better, sir.'

'It needs to be higher than twelve. What is the situation at the quarry?'

Shevan looked troubled. 'The tools are wearing out much faster than anticipated, sir. And there is a problem with the pegs. It appears—'

'That the wood is not absorbing water.'

'Yes, sir. You anticipated this?'

'I wish that I had,' replied Anu wearily.

Stonemasons drilled holes in the sandstone then drove dry wooden pegs into the holes. When water was added the pegs expanded, splitting the stone neatly. This is how the blocks were created. But, somehow, the acceleration of time was affecting the absorption rate.

Anu strolled across to the Gepha pyramid. It had been the first attempt, seventy years ago, to build a power source. It had failed. As Anu had known it would, for it was built without the Music. Now it served as a base for his own work, and labourers were busy chiselling out the blocks, harnessing them and, by careful use of massive hides full of water, were counterbalancing their weight and lowering them to the ground. The work was slow and dangerous. Had he possessed two chests Anu would have used the enhanced power of the Music to lessen the weight of the blocks, but with only one he needed to conserve the energy for the courses of his own pyramid.

A commotion began some way to his left. It was close to the mist barrier he had summoned around the valley. He and Shevan hurried across to where a crowd of workers had gathered.

An incredibly old man lay on the ground. His limbs were twitching, and, as the men watched, the flesh fell away from him, the skin drying, becoming leather, then peeling away from his bones like worn papyrus.

'It was Jadas,' whispered one man. 'He crossed the mist last night to meet his wife.'

Anu stepped forward. 'Be calm!' he said. 'You have all been warned about the magic used here. I told you all that it would be death to cross the mist.'

'We are prisoners here!' shouted another man.

That is not true,' said Anu. 'I explained the dangers when you agreed to the work. But any who wish to leave can do so when the supplies are due, and the mist is lifted. I am Anu. I do not lie. This man was a fool. There are many fools in the world. He was told of the dangers and chose to disbelieve them.'

'What happens if the magic goes wrong?' shouted the first man. 'We could all end up like Jadas.'

'Come now, lads,' said Yasha, the Foundations King, striding forward to stand among them. 'You've all heard of the Holy One. He's not a liar. And I, for one, am looking forward to going home with eight thousand silver pieces. I'm going to build this wonder for Anu, and then I'm going to buy a home. Not build it. Buy it! I'm going to sit in the shade and drink fine wine. And upon my knee will sit the prettiest whore in Egaru.'

'We could all die here, Yasha!' objected the first man.

'You die if you want to, Podri. I'm going to live to be rich. Now let us bury this bag of bones and get on with the Wonder.'

'You honestly believe we're safe?' asked another man.

'Safe?' replied Yasha with a chuckle. 'Safe? When has a labourer ever been safe? But for eight thousand silvers I'll risk a little danger.' He swung to Anu. 'Am I safe from your magic, Holy One?' he asked.

'You are. I promise you,' Anu told him.

'Good enough for me,' said Yasha. 'Now I'm off to find the least ugly whore.'

With that he strode away, his laurel crown still in place. The crowd broke up. The bones of Jadas crumbled to dust and blew away on the breeze.

'He is a good man,' said Shevan.

'Yes,' answered Anu absently. He was already planning for an increase in the absorption rate of wooden pegs.

The gardener was kneeling on an old cushion in the sunshine, carefully weeding the rockery. A straw hat, wide-brimmed and frayed, protected his neck from the harsh noon sun. Brightly coloured flowers were growing all around the rockery, pale pink rock jasmine, golden bloomed alyssum, white and yellow bellflowers, with their delicate, drooping blooms. The gardener's fingers gently tugged at the weed stems while he probed the roots with his copper fork. Placing the weeds in a canvas basket by his side he climbed over the higher rocks to continue his work among the scented thyme that grew against the garden's rear wall. He worked with the endless patience of a man in tune with the earth, never tearing at the weeds, never disturbing the roots of the plants he sought to protect. There was no tension in him, and his mind was perfectly at peace.

An older man moved along the paved path beneath the rockery. He was a big man, heavy-boned and broad in the shoulder. His close-cropped hair was peppered with silver, and his skin was deeply tanned and leathered by a lifetime of work in the open. The gardener saw him, smiled and climbed back down to the path.

'It is looking fine, Kale,' he said. 'You have done well. But I am concerned with the violets.'

Together the two men strolled across the rock garden to a deep pocket of royal blue speedwell growing alongside a crimson wild thyme. At the border of the rocks was a stand of yellow wood violet. The leaves were dull and speckled.

'The soil is not holding enough moisture, lord,' said Kale, kneeling down and pushing his fingers into the earth. 'It could do with some peat or rotted straw. I will fetch some this afternoon.' He glanced over his shoulder at the rising sun. 'And they are getting too much sun.'

The gardener nodded. 'It had enough shade until the juniper died. We need to build a screen to the west, with a fast-climbing flower, to give time for the weeping birch to take hold. A jasmine, do you think?'

'A screen is a good idea, lord. Though I prefer the yellow clematis as a climber. But I think you put too much faith in the birch. Such trees do not like this soil. It is too thin.'

'A garden needs trees. They lift the eye, and the spirit, and they add depth and shadow. Anyway the cypresses are doing well here.'

'Indeed they are, lord, but you spent a fortune for the irrigation work. Without it they would die within a month.'

The gardener laughed. 'What else is money for? It is there to be spent. A garden is a thing of beauty, and pleasing to the Source.'

'Speaking of money, lord, the marsh marigolds will be here tomorrow. It appears that most survived the journey.'

'Excellent. That is what the far pond needs, Kale. A touch of gold. Now remember they should be planted just above the water's edge, the soil kept continually moist.'

'I have never seen a marsh marigold, lord,' said Kale. 'I will not know how to nurture it.'

The gardener smiled and clapped the man on the shoulder. 'You will learn, Kale. And if they die I'll buy more. Eventually we will get it right.'

A newcomer moved along the path. Kale bowed and backed away as the Avatar approached. 'Your gardens are a constant delight, Viruk,' said the Questor General. 'So many colours and scents.'

Tension returned and the gardener faded back. Viruk the warrior brushed the dry dirt from his hands and led the General to a rest area where comfortable chairs had been set under a canopy of vine leaves. It was cool in the shade. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, cousin?' he asked, removing his straw hat and dropping it to the ground.

'Ammon is training a regular army. My spies tell me that they are well disciplined and hardy.'

'How many men in this army?'

'Five thousand, split into fifty groups of one hundred each. Every man has a bronze breastplate and helm, and a bronze-reinforced shield of hard wood. Most are armed with short swords, though the front rankers use twelve-foot spears.'

'An interesting development,' said Viruk. 'You want me to kill Ammon?'

'No. We may need this army.'

Viruk laughed. 'You think the Mud People will fight alongside us?'

'If they don't they will be either assimilated or annihilated by the newcomers.'

'You fear they will be that strong?'

Rael leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. 'We have maintained control with a mere five hundred. The newcomers — and their major cities — have survived. There will be thousands of them, Viruk. The Source alone knows what kind of weaponry they possess.'

'What would you have me do?'

'Go to Ammon. Tell him what has happened. Assure him that if the Erek-jhip-zhonad are attacked we will support him in any way we can. But do not ask for his help. There must be no show of weakness. If he offers it, accept graciously.'

'Would this… embassy… not be better undertaken by a Questor, cousin? I am no diplomat. I would as soon cut the savage's throat as dine with him.'

'That is why you are the best man for the role, Viruk. Ammon knows of you and your skills. He will be wary, but he will listen. I have watched him closely since he became king. He is a stronger man than his father, and wiser than any chieftain we have dealt with so far. He could be a strong ally.'

'Or a deadly enemy.'

'Indeed so. Remain in his capital as my ambassador. I have sent him a message that you are coming.'

'I would prefer to be here when the newcomers arrive,' objected Viruk.

'I am sure that you would.'

'This means you have turned down my request to join Talaban on the Serpent?'

'There will be battles enough, I fear. When they come I want you to support Ammon.'

Viruk rose and filled a goblet with cool water from a stone jug. 'The five cities could soon be under attack, cousin. You have no-one who fights as well as I. It is folly to send me away at such a time.'

'You may be right, Viruk. But what if their ships sail past us and into the mouth of the Luan? What if their first assault is into the lands of the Mud People? Then they would be both before and behind us. If I were attacking this coast that is what I would do. The five cities are strong, the Mud People less so. It would be hard for us to fight on two fronts, Viruk. And since this is my greatest fear I am sending my greatest warrior. Take ten Avatars with you. The very best.'

Viruk chuckled. 'You seek to win me over by flattery. And damn my soul if it hasn't succeeded. Very well, cousin, I will do this for you.'

Rael nodded and rose. 'If they come, Viruk, defend Ammon as if he was your own blood. If they attack they will seek to kill the king. They must not succeed. And if they break through get him here, with as many of his men as you can.'

Viruk laughed. 'Only a few days ago I sent him a promise to rip out his entrails. Now I am to defend him?

Life is never dull with you, Rael. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do in my garden.'

Rael smiled. 'I notice your gardener is looking well. I could have sworn the last time I saw him he looked older.'

'Working with me obviously agrees with him,' said Viruk.

Rael shook his head. 'You break too many rules, cousin. Be careful.'

'Kale is very valuable to me. He saved my pulsatillas by improving the drainage and cutting back surrounding growth to allow them more light. They would have died without him. And what would a garden be without pulsatillas?'

'I have changed my mind,' said Rael, with a broad smile. 'Do not think of Ammon as one of your blood, but as one of your flowers.'

'Well, it's true I'd like to see him planted in the earth,' replied Viruk.

Questor Ro had been sitting in judgment for two hours and he was growing bored. In the main the cases brought before him were petty, and only two defendants had been sentenced to be crystal-drawn — and these would lose only five years each. He gazed down at the two lists before him. One detailed the cases, the other the needs of the Crystal Treasury. According to the latter they needed today twenty-two full sentences of death in order to meet the treasury requirements. Ro fully understood the need to maintain power, and he had little regard for Vagars. Yet the law was the law, and no amount of pressure would make Ro yield on any point of it. If a man stole bread — without use of violence — to feed his family it was a misdemeanour, punishable by a maximum of five years. Ro had rounded on the prosecutor who tried to claim that when the victim gave chase to the thief he fell and sprained his wrist, making this a crime of violence.

Questor Ro was not in a good mood. He did not like courtroom three in the eastern district. It was small and cramped, the magistrate's dais raised only two feet from the floor, the magistrate being forced to enter from a side room, walking past and beneath the public seating. This alone left Vagars looking down on Ro, which he felt was not becoming. The magistrate should enter from behind the dais, as in all other courtrooms.

Ro tugged at his forked blue beard and fixed his gaze on the public gallery. There were no Avatars present, and the benches were only half full. Ro adjusted his royal blue robes, sipped water from a crystal cup and nodded to the guards to bring in the next defendant.

The case was one of rape. The victim, a rich fat Vagar woman of middle years, claimed her gardener had climbed into her room and subjected her to a horrifying ordeal — an ordeal that was only ended when her husband burst in. The prosecution called for the death sentence.

'Were any weapons found on the scene?' Ro asked the prosecutor.

'No, Lord Questor. The man used his physical power to overwhelm the lady.'

Ro idly examined the evidence sheet, then looked up at the short skinny defendant. The man was blinking nervously and sweat was dripping into his eyes. 'I see his clothes were found downstairs, along with the lady's gown. How, pray, did he convince her to go upstairs with him?' asked Ro.

The prosecutor — already aware of Ro's growing irritation — visibly paled. 'He threatened her life, Lord Questor.'

Ro read the evidence sheet once more. 'According to this he has been employed by the lady and her husband for four years and lives, with four other workmen, in a small house on the estate. Is it your intention to try to convince this court that a man would risk his life and his livelihood, in the sure and certain knowledge of being caught, in order to bed his employer's wife against her will? I do hope not, prosecutor. According to the evidence there was no bruising upon the alleged victim, nor any tearing of her clothes. Her gown, I understand, was neatly folded over a couch. Added to which two goblets of wine were found in the bedroom. Come forward.'

The man approached the dais. He was a young Avatar, the son of a minor Questor serving the eastern district.

Ro leaned across the desk. 'You are not — one supposes — a foolish man. So why has this ridiculous case been brought before me? It is obvious she was seducing her employee when her husband caught her. She has invented this tale. And a poor invention it is.'

'Her husband is one of our staunchest supporters, Lord Questor. He is a man of some standing among the Vagars.'

Ro waved him back. The charges against this man are dismissed,' he said. 'Bring in the next defendant.'

The guards brought in a tall young woman with long dark hair. She was dressed in a simple gown of green homespun wool, poorly dyed. She was charged with three offences: magicking — contravening an ancient law first brought in by the Vagars long before the Avatar conquest; taking employment within the city limits without a permit; and having upon her person less than five silver pieces, thus falling foul of the law governing vagrancy.

The vagrancy charge could cost her two crystal years, the lack of a permit another five. But the ancient law could invoke the death sentence.

Ro read the evidence sheet carefully and slowly. The woman was a newcomer to the city, and had — apparently — healed a baby sick with fever. A crowd had gathered, calling out for healing of boils, headaches and various other minor disorders. She had laid her hands on them all. Before long the crowd was so large it was blocking the thoroughfare and two Avatar soldiers had pushed their way through and arrested the woman.

'Your name?' asked Questor Ro.

For a moment the woman looked distracted, gazing up towards the fluted ceiling. She was exquisitely beautiful. Ro pushed such thoughts from his mind, and asked the question once more. Her deep blue eyes focused on him. 'I am Sofarita, lord,' she said, her voice husky.

'Your place of birth?'

'The village of Pacepta, lord.'

'Occupation?'

'I have none, lord, for I am recently arrived and not yet in possession of a permit.'

'Is this why you sought to earn coin with magicking tricks?'

She seemed to be struggling with her concentration, as if she had been taking opiates. Perhaps she has, thought Ro. Or perhaps she is merely mentally afflicted. Yet when she spoke her voice was firm again. 'I took no coin, sir. The silver pieces the officers removed were mine. I came to the city three days ago with twenty-six coins, but I have had to take lodgings, for which they charge me a half-silver a day. Added to this I have bought items of clothing. But the remaining money is mine.'

'So you did this magicking for no reward?'

'Yes, lord.'

'But you do maintain it was magicking?'

'I suppose that it was. I have never experienced such powers before coming to the city. Something has happened to me, but I don't know what it could be. But now I can make lanterns light without flame, and heal disease. And I can see things… terrible things.' Her voice tailed away, and the faraway look returned to her eyes.

'What is it that you see?' asked Ro.

'Golden ships, men with weapons of fire coming across the sea. Children buried alive on mountaintops, women, with their hands bound being carried to an altar and… and… murdered.' She began to tremble. 'I went for a walk this morning, to clear my mind. I hoped the noise and the bustle would help me to put aside the images. There was a woman with a sick child. I knew it was about to die, so I went to her and removed its fever.

I don't know how. I just laid my hand upon it, and the heat moved up my arm and into my own head. Then it dispersed. The mother began to cry out that it was a miracle, and others gathered. I committed no crime, lord.'

'On the contrary, Sofarita,' said Questor Ro, 'you committed a great crime. Magicking is punishable by death.

However, the law is an ancient one, and I need to review it before passing sentence. Take her away,' he commanded the guards. 'But keep her close. I will want to question her privately.'