Echoes of the Great Song

Chapter Sixteen

By the end of the day Ro had sentenced six men and one woman to be fully crystal-drawn, and three others to lose five years. Back in his chambers he removed the magisterial robes and ate a light meal. There was no need to study the ancient law concerning magicking. The woman should have been crystal-drawn. But she had mentioned golden ships and men coming across the sea, and this more than intrigued Ro.

He ordered her brought to his chambers. The room was small, furnished with a narrow table and two chairs, and when the guards brought her in Ro became even more aware of her beauty. Her hair was dark and lustrous, her lips full and inviting. And, in the close proximity of the small room, he could smell the cheap lemon-scented soap she had used in bathing that morning. He felt suddenly hot and uncomfortable. Bidding her to take a seat he moved away, putting the desk between them.

'Tell me about yourself,' he said. She glanced up at him.

'You want to know about the golden ships,' she told him. They frighten you.' She hesitated. 'I frighten you.'

'I do not fear you, woman,' he said, sharply.

'Yes, you do. For I remind you of… a day in a great park. Children are playing. You are holding the hand of a beautiful woman, yet you are thinking of… numbers… calculations. She was your wife.'

'Tell me of the golden ships,' he said, his mouth dry.

'Why is this happening to me? I want it to stop.'

'I will help you. But tell me of the ships.'

'They are coming across the sea now. Evil men are coming. One with a face like glass. It is not real glass. He has decorated his eyebrows and his chin to make it appear like crystal. He is an awful man. His thoughts are all of blood and death.'

'Where are the people from?'

'I don't want to do this,' said Sofarita. 'I don't want to see them any more.'

'I need to know,' said Ro. 'It is important. Do they come for war?'

'I cannot see the future, lord. Only what is, and what has been. They are a terrible race. They kill and they maim. They take children and bury them alive to feed…' The faraway look returned.

'Look at me! What do they feed?'

'There is a building, four-sided, narrowing to a point. It glitters in the sunlight.'

'A pyramid, yes. They feed a pyramid?'

'Yes, they kill people at its peak. The blood runs into channels, and then down into the building. And the pyramid feeds… No! Not the pyramid itself, but something inside. Something buried. Something… alive!'

Ro licked his lips. His mouth felt suddenly dry. 'Can you see inside this pyramid?'

'No. But something lives there.'

'And it is fed by blood?'

Sofarita blinked. 'And crystals. People sacrificed in other cities have their blood poured over crystals. These are then carried to the pyramid. There are openings and the crystals are poured into them. They clatter and fall.'

She fell silent.

Ro waited a moment. 'How many ships are coming?' he asked. She did not respond. He asked her again, his voice a little louder. She jerked.

'Would you like to see them?' she asked him, suddenly. 'The ships?'

'What do you mean?'

She rose from her chair and moved around the desk. Then she extended her hand to him. 'I will show you the ships,' she said. Now the scent of her was close. He could smell the fragrance of her hair. Reaching out he took her hand.

And was lost in an explosion of colour that sent him spiralling out of control. Panic engulfed him, but he heard her voice soft and warm inside his mind, calming him. 'Open your eyes, and see the sky.'

Ro did so, and found himself floating among the clouds above a shimmering sea. He could feel no heat or cold, nor see his own body, but her closeness brought with it a warmth that bathed his soul.

'Down there!' she whispered. 'Can you see them?'

Thirty golden ships were sailing across the open sea. They had no sails, yet they cruised swiftly through the waves. Ro found himself diving towards them. All fear was gone now, as he floated above the lead ship. It was vast, twice the size of Serpent Seven, multi-decked and yet still sleek in the water. Up close he could see that the hull was cunningly crafted from timbers that had been covered with beaten gold. The ship was close to 300 feet long, and 40 feet high. Judging by the opaque blue glass windows there were four decks above the waterline.

Upon the upper deck, above and behind the prow, he saw three large metal structures, adorned with a series of wheels and balances, and protruding like a spear from each machine was a long metal tube some two feet in diameter. Ro had no idea as to their purpose. Beyond the machines a group of men were studying charts. The men were tall, their skins the colour of copper. They wore clothes of gold and elaborate headdresses sporting metal feathers stained red and green and blue.

'How soon will they reach Egaru?' he asked Sofarita.

'/ don't know. But there are other ships to the south.'

'Show me.'

In an instant Ro found himself hovering above the familiar ice caps and glaciers where only recently he had found Communion. Five ships were anchored here. Sofarita led him inland to where a camp had been established. The newcomers had created a structure of golden poles laid flat in the shape of an octagon. At its centre lay three men — nomads by their appearance. They were dead, their chests open, their hearts ripped out.

Blood-covered crystals filled the open cavities.

There were some thirty newcomers in the camp. Despite the intense cold none of them wore furs or any warm clothing. Most were dressed in thin tunics of cotton and seemed oblivious to the glacial temperature around them. Two men caught Ro's spirit eye. One was wearing armour of gold and a tall feathered headdress.

The man beside him was shorter, and hunchbacked. Together they were scanning a map painted on hide.

'What are they looking for? asked Ro.

'I do not know. They came here two days ago and killed a group of nomads.'

'Take me closer. I want to see their map.'

Ro was now floating directly behind the tall man. The map was covered with symbols Ro could not read, which was galling for an Avatar versed in all the languages known to man.

'Why can we not bear them?' he asked Sofarita.

'These powers are new to me. I cannot read their minds either.'

A troop of soldiers came marching from the north. Ro glanced at them. These were wearing furs, and they were big men. As they came closer Ro saw that they were not men at all. They were krals, huge and lumbering.

Crossed belts of black leather adorned their chests and they carried clubs of iron. Ro saw that two of them were carrying a long pole, from which hung a nomad, tied by his hands and feet. The krals halted before the tall leader and bowed.

He stepped forward and drew a golden knife with which he cut the ropes holding the prisoner. The man fell to the ground. The leader placed his hand on the man's brow.

Noise burst into Ro's brain like sudden thunder. 'Can you hear them now?' asked Sofarita.

'Yes. A little warning would have been helpful. I almost died of fright.'

The leader was speaking to the prisoner. 'Now do you understand me? Am I speaking your tongue?' he asked.

'I hear you,' responded the prisoner sullenly. He was young, and a gash to his face was leaking blood.

'My men have seen a palace built near a lake of ice. Does it belong to your people?'

'No. It was built by the Avatars. Long ago.'

'The Avatars? A race of gods? Immortal? Undying?'

'Yes.'

'And where are they now?'

'North. The gods toppled them. The sea destroyed them. It is said they hold sway over northern lands. I do not know. I have never been there.'

'Have you seen them, these Avatars?'

'Yes. A ship came and they walked this ice. My chieftain saw them. Sold them tusker horns. Then they fight krals with magic bows.'

The leader rose and turned to the hunchback. 'Draw out his knowledge.' The hunchback knelt by the prisoner, clasping both hands on the man's head. He held this pose for more than a minute, then stood.

'It is done, lord,' he said.

The leader swung to the krals. 'Now you may have him,' he told them. Two of the great beasts dropped down.

Talons flashed, severing the prisoner's jugular and snapping through his ribs. He did not have time to scream.

'Take me back,' ordered Questor Ro.

He opened his eyes back in his chambers. 'Your powers are a gift from the Source,' he told Sofarita, then realized he was still holding her hand. Swiftly he let go — and instantly regretted it. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself such contact.

'You are a lonely man,' she said.

'You must call me lord,' he said gently. 'We will be meeting others, and if it is seen you are disrespectful there may be trouble for you.'

'You said you would help rid me of this curse.'

'First we must understand the power. And, indeed, use it. We are all in danger from these newcomers. Your new talents will be a great help to us.'

'If I help you, will you help me?'

'I will do all that I can.' Ro was surprised to find that he meant it.

Talaban worked the crew hard for two days, running the Serpent at full speed through rough water, simulating combat conditions by sharp changes of direction, swinging the ship to port, into the onrushing waves, then hurling her to starboard. Although all the ship's movements were guided from the upper cabin, there were many duties for the crew. On each side of the vessel there were hidden boxes, containing powered controls.

Some of these activated devices for preventing the Serpent being boarded. Others lifted curved shields into place to protect archers.

On the morning of the third day Talaban took Methras to the locked doors behind the prow. These too had a golden triangle, which when removed displayed a set of symbols. Talaban showed them to Methras and the two men entered.

Talaban activated a glow globe and Methras found himself staring at a large metal tube as thick as a man's thigh. It was clamped to the ship's timbers. At the base there was a large chest. Talaban slid back a panel upon it and showed his sergeant a series of wheels and dials.

'The chest contains white crystals and three large rubies,' said Talaban. 'When activated it builds up a charge of power which can be released by pulling this lever. Watch closely!' Talaban slowly turned a dial. Two sections of the wall slid back. The tube slid forward, clearing the first opening. 'At long range great judgement is called for,' said Talaban. 'But I do not believe we will be fighting at long range. The second window is used to sight the weapon. It is like a giant zhi-bow and releases a bolt a hundred times as powerful. It could pierce a city wall twenty feet thick.'

'That is indeed powerful, sir,' said Methras. 'It must take enormous energy.'

'It does. Three bolts and then the weapon needs to be recharged. We do not have the power to recharge it.

Three hits and it is gone — perhaps for ever. Therefore we have no opportunity for practice, and no margin for error. This will be your place, Methras.'

'I will not fail you, captain,' said the sergeant. Talaban looked at him closely.

'Is something wrong?'

'Not at all, sir.'

'I have noticed that you and the crew seem… more distant. Is it because of the new duties, or fear of battle?

What? Speak freely.'

'I would, sir, but I am not aware of any change. We are your Vagar crew. We live to obey your commands.

What more do you ask of us?'

'A little honesty would not go amiss,' said Talaban. 'But let us put that aside and return our attention to the weapon here. When these ships were first commissioned there were telepaths among the crew. It is a skill we have lost. One would stand with the captain, another wait below with the weapon handler. That way the captain could issue an order to loose the fire. We do not have telepaths and therefore need another signal. What I intend is to flicker the glow globe above you. The next ship you see through the aiming window will be the target.'

'I understand, sir.'

Talaban ran his hand through his long dark hair and sat back upon the tube. 'We do not know how many ships the newcomers will have, nor what weapons they carry. In order to loose the lightning I will be forced to drop our defences for a few heartbeats. Therefore the moment of our greatest strength is also the moment of our greatest weakness.'

'As I said, sir, you can rely on me.'

Talaban nodded, then talked Methras through the controls twice more. When he was convinced that his sergeant understood fully the workings of the weapon he ordered him to draw it back and close the openings.

Then the two men left the room and locked the door.

Talaban returned to his cabin. He was perplexed at the new coldness in Methras and the crew. They had served with him for years, and he felt a certain rapport had been established. Apparently he had been wrong.

They obeyed his orders swiftly and without question, but gone were the easy smiles. Conversations died away as he approached.

Opening the rear doors Talaban stepped out onto the small, private deck and breathed deeply. The wind was fresh and southerly and he could taste salt upon the air. Seagulls were circling overhead and Talaban could see storm clouds on the horizon.

'You want food?' asked Touchstone. Talaban spun. The tribesman had appeared from nowhere.

'How do you move so silently?' he asked. 'My hearing is good, but every time you approach you surprise me.'

Touchstone grinned.

'Big secret. Much work. Anyways you lost at thinking.'

'The phrase is lost in thought. And, yes, I'd like some food.'

'On table,' said Touchstone. Talaban walked back into his cabin. A tray had been set on the table, bearing a jug of fruit juices, a small loaf, a plate of dried meats, and another of cheese. A crystal goblet was also standing close by. Talaban gave a wry grin and shook his head. The tribesman had entered the cabin carrying a tray laden with crockery and had set it down silently.

'Compared to you a cat would sound like a tusker,' said Talaban.

Touchstone grinned again and walked out onto the rear deck. Talaban ate. The bread was a little stale, but the dried smoked meats were tasty and filling. When he had finished Touchstone returned. 'Storm comes,' he said.

'The wind is pushing it away from us.'

'Wind will change,' said the tribesman.

The Serpent could ride out any storm, but it would waste power. 'I'll find a bay,' said Talaban. Touchstone leaned across the table, picking up a piece of meat and stuffing it into his mouth. It was a gesture of easy familiarity and Talaban welcomed it.

'What is wrong with the crew?' he asked.

'Wrong? They sick?'

'No, not sick. Have you not noticed? They have changed. They are like strangers to me now.'

'They not change. You change.'

'Me? I am the same.'

'No,' said Touchstone. 'Hair at temples blue. Big change.' Lifting the tray, the tribesman left the cabin.

Talaban was shocked, but he knew Touchstone was right. Talaban had performed many times for Rael as a scout, moving far into the tribal territories. Blue hair would have been inappropriate on such missions, putting him in danger. But his crew had seen it as a statement, an indication that he was not so different from them. They had looked at him and seen a man. Now they saw an Avatar, one of the ruling gods.

Of course a gulf had been created, and Talaban felt foolish that he had not anticipated such a reaction. His men came from a slave race, and they dreamed of a day when they would be free. And for Methras it would have been a double blow for he was of Avatar blood. The cabin door swung back on its hinges and slammed against the frame. Talaban moved to the rear deck. The wind had changed and, as Touchstone had predicted, the storm was moving in.

Climbing to the upper deck he activated the ship's power and headed the Serpent for the coast.

Yasha lay back on the bed, the whore's head resting on his shoulder, her thigh across his legs. The hut was warm, and lit by a single flickering lantern. It was pleasant here, and he felt at peace.

From beyond the huts he could hear the faint music created by the flute of Questor Anu, the Holy One. It was lilting and strangely beautiful, bringing to all who heard it a sense of peace and calm.

According to Yasha's calculations they were almost halfway through the twenty-day night. He had worked twelve shifts in the constant darkness and eaten twelve meals. He smiled. And he had rutted with eight whores.

'Why do you smile, my big man?' she asked him. 'Did I please you?'

'You always please me,' he said, twisting his head to kiss her brow.

'You are the only one who kisses me,' she told him. The music of the flute drifted into the distance. He has moved behind the structure, thought Yasha. So far the work was still behind schedule, but they had raised six courses of stone in a series of gradually decreasing squares. What was baffling to Yasha was why the interior had so many channels and tunnels built into the design. It was not as if anyone was going to live inside the pyramid.

As if reading his thoughts the woman raised herself up on her elbow.

'What is it for?' she asked him.

'What is what for?'

'This… big building?'

'It is for the Avatars,' he said. 'Every thirty years or so they seem to want to create some lasting monument.

My father worked on the pyramid we are tearing down. There's no sense to it. Some of the lads were excited about the prospect of seeing what was inside it. There wasn't anything. No gold, no treasure, no bodies. Nothing.

Just empty. Crazy, isn't it?'

He sat up and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. Reaching for the wine jug he lifted it to his lips, drank deeply, then wiped the moisture from his thick, dark beard. The flute sounded closer again.

'It must be for something,' said the woman. 'Why else would the Holy One himself be here?'

This was a question that haunted Yasha. He did not object to the vanities of the Avatar, nor even care much that they ruled the five cities. Someone had to rule, and as long as Yasha had employment and wages enough to buy food and whores he was content. But his curiosity was aroused by the Holy One and his magic. When he played the flute heavy rocks became light, perhaps a twentieth of their weight, and four men could manoeuvre huge blocks into place. For the first few days this had caused much excitement and unease in the workers. Now they were used to it.

Yasha heaved himself upright and pulled on his leggings and shirt.

'What was it like being a king?' she asked him. He laughed aloud.

'I wasn't a king,' he said. 'It was merely an amusing interlude to mark the first course being completed.'

'But you were carried on the shoulders of the men and you wore a laurel crown. And even the Holy One bowed as you passed him. Did it feel very fine?' Yasha thought about the question as he pulled on his heavy shoes.

'It felt good,' he admitted. 'But not half as good as a roll with you.'

'Do you mean that? Do you really?'

'Of course.'

'Will you come back after your next shift?'

'How could any man stay away from you… dearheart?' he concluded, having forgotten her name.

Leaning over, he kissed her once more then, leaving the clay payment tablet on the small table beside the bed, he stepped out into the night and strolled across to the infant pyramid. Questor Anu was striding along the top of the sixth course still playing his flute. Yasha watched him for a while and, when the Holy One had ceased playing, he waved to him. Anu waved back, then climbed down to stand alongside the huge foreman.

'We are doing well,' said Anu. 'But we need to work faster yet.'

'It will come, Questor. Already the skills of the workers are increasing.'

Anu smiled and turned away.

'Tell me, Lord, why do you play music for the blocks when they are already in place?' he asked. Anu paused, then swung back to face the Vagar. In the bright constant moonlight his blue hair shone like polished silver.

'The stone remembers my tunes,' he said seriously. Then he laughed at the look of confusion on Yasha's face.

'Each block is created by the bonding of millions of fragments, and each fragment also contains millions of particles. Possibly each particle is also a composite of many smaller pieces. The Music goes into the stone, absorbed into each fragment, each particle. And the song goes on — perhaps for ever — within the structure.'

'I can't hear it,' said Yasha.

'And yet the Music is all around us. The universe is a song, Yasha. We are part of it. Have you ever wondered why Man is so drawn to music? Why we gather wherever it is played. Why we dance to it, adjusting our bodies to the rhythms?'

'Because it feels good,' said the Vagar.

'Yes, it feels good. It feels natural, for that is what it is. Those moments when music touches our souls remind us that we are part of the Great Song. All of us — Avatar, Vagar, tribesman, nomad. And every tree and plant, and bird and animal. We are all essential to the harmony of the Music.'

'Maybe so, Holy One, but it seems to me that the Avatars have been granted all the best tunes.' He regretted his words instantly, for they came dangerously close to dissension. But Anu merely nodded.

'You are quite right, Yasha. But nothing is for ever, whatever my brothers prefer to believe. This structure we are creating together is not for the Avatar alone. It is for the world. For you, and your children, and the children of your children.'

'I do not have any children, Holy One.'

Anu laid his slender hand on Yasha's shoulder. 'You have seventeen children,' he said. 'And you sired another this evening. You really should make an effort to keep in touch with your women.'

Yasha chuckled. 'The women I sleep with have many partners, Holy One. Hard to say who fathered which child. And I like it that way. Have you ever been married?'

'No, I cannot say the idea ever appealed to me.'

'Me neither. Maybe when I get old and I want a little more warmth in my bed.'

'I have been old,' said Anu. 'There is some joy, but no warmth to be found.'

With that he bade his foreman good night and walked slowly away to his tent.