Echoes of the Great Song

Chapter Eighteen

Immediately a clamour began in the Council Chamber. Rael leapt to his feet, his arms in the air. 'Enough, my friends,' he shouted. 'We have two hours. Surrender is unthinkable, and therefore we must use the time we have to marshal our defences. All of you — bar Questors Caprishan, Niclin and Ro — should return to your duties. The enemy will certainly have weapons of long-range destruction upon their warships. Go to your districts and organize an evacuation of non-combatants to the eastern sections of the city. Vagar captains have already been told to hold their men in readiness for just such an event, and also to prepare units for recovery and burial. Liaise with the captains in your districts. And keep runners with you, ensuring at all times there is a line of communication between the War Council and yourselves. Go now, my friends. Time is short.'

The councillors filed out, and, as the last left the room, Caprishan spoke. 'This is a war we cannot win, cousin,' he said.

'I know that,' snapped Rael, 'but this is not the time to discuss it. As we all saw, eight ships have sailed down the estuary towards the lands of the Erek-jhip-zhonad. I would estimate there to be perhaps three hundred fighting men per ship. That means around two thousand five hundred warriors will be landing somewhere to our rear. An equal number have sailed south. Were I in command of their battle fleet I would land my forces on the marshes three miles south of Pejkan. This is the weakest of the five cities. It will fall within a day. Boria and Caval will follow. There is only a token force of Avatar soldiers in each of the three cities, and they have orders to march to Egaru as soon as the enemy is sighted. The city councils have been ordered to surrender if approached. Most Avatar families have already left, and all crystals and power sources have been renloved or dismantled.'

'We are giving them up without a fight?' said Niclin. 'I don't like the sound of that.'

'You think I do?' snapped Rael. 'As Cas-Coatl so rightly pointed out we have fewer than two hundred Avatar soldiers, and only fifteen hundred trained Vagars. You may recall that the Council has always believed in — how did you put it, Caprishan? — the folly of having too large a Vagar force within the cities. Now we pay the price.'

'I was not alone in my fears,' said Caprishan.

'No, you were not.' Rael sighed. 'And in many ways I agreed with you. But none of us could have foreseen the arrival of such an enemy. In the past our zhi-bows have more than compensated for lack of numbers. Not this time, I fear. All our efforts must be concentrated on Egaru and Pagaru,' insisted Rael. 'The walls of both are high and strong, and the power chests are here. In the short term we have two elements in our favour. Serpent Seven, under the command of Talaban, and one land-based Sunfire which, on my orders, Questor Ro has hidden, fully charged, in the Harbour Tower.'

Niclin interrupted him. 'The Sunfire has not been charged or used in… what?… two hundred years. Even if it does not explode on first use, the enemy will see where the blast comes from and concentrate their attack upon the Harbour Tower. It will be a death-trap.'

'In which case, cousin, you will finally be rid of me,' said Ro, 'for I shall be manning the weapon.'

'I do not wish to see you die, Ro,' said Niclin, softly. 'We are rivals, and political enemies. But it would grieve me to see harm befall you.' He turned to Rael. 'What is it you wish me to do, cousin?'

'Get to Pagaru before the enemy closes the estuary to us. Hold it to the last. Make them suffer for every inch of ground they take. You will have only sixty Avatar soldiers, but more than two hundred zhi-bows. Ensure a supply is always fully charged. Caprishan, you will go with Niclin. Your role is to ensure supplies continue to get through to the two cities, and also to Questor Anu. This will not be easy once the enemy has landed. The mist is due to be dropped tomorrow. Make sure a message gets to Anu about the situation here.'

Caprishan nodded. 'Anu and his workforce are twenty miles inland. We cannot protect him.'

'He will need no protection,' said Rael. 'Any of the enemy who cross the mist will rot and die within a few heartbeats. The danger will come when he drops the mist to allow supplies through. You must see if there is any way he can create a secret channel through it.'

'I will, cousin, but surely if he can wield such power in the valley he could wield it here? Could he not lay a line of mist before the cities, destroying our enemies as they land?'

Rael shook his head. 'He would not contemplate it,' he said. 'Anu is not a killer. And there is no way I can force him into such an act. Believe me, I have tried. Now are there any further questions?' The Questors remained silent. 'Good. Let us be about our business, my friends, and may the Source bless our endeavours.'

Within the hour the evacuation had begun. Vagar troops moved through the streets, ushering bewildered city dwellers from their homes. There were some arguments, but the presence of blue-haired Avatar councillors quelled the crowds. No-one wanted to be arrested for civil disobedience and subsequently crystal-drawn.

Assurances were made that Vagar troops would patrol the deserted areas, protecting homes and possessions from looters.

But it was a slow business, and as the two-hour deadline approached more than a thousand homes had yet to be cleared. Refugees choked the roads and avenues, and more than once fights broke out, once as a wheel fell from a heavily laden wagon, causing the line to stall, and again when a Vagar merchant tried to spur his horse through the throng. A woman was hurled to the ground and her husband dragged the merchant from his mount and began to beat upon him with his fists. Vagar troops moved in on both occasions.

Questor Ro crouched inside the Harbour Tower and applied a little oil to the gears and wheels of the Sunfire.

Three Avatar soldiers waited with him, and further back ten Vagar labourers awaited orders to remove the machine once it was discharged. The tower was constructed of heavy stone blocks and seemed safe enough, especially here on the ground floor. But Ro had no idea what weaponry would be brought to bear on it. With a soft cloth he wiped excess oil from the gears and idly polished the long bronze tube. The weapon had been aligned with the small window, but there was only a narrow field of fire. Ro moved to the window and stared out across the bay. From here he could see all eight golden ships. But they were at least a half-mile from him. Could they loose their weapons from that distance? Ro did not know.

The Sunfire had been kept in the Museum for almost ninety years. Ro had been present when such a weapon had last been used, against the warships of the Khasli. They had been destroyed utterly. As indeed had the Khasli themselves during the Fourteen Year War. We are the Khasli now, he thought. Ro struggled to remember the delay between shots, as the crystals repowered. But he could not. All he knew was that once fired the weapon needed some minutes to recharge.

Calling the soldiers forward Ro re-sighted the tube, covering the mouth of the bay. With a long rule he checked its positioning, needing it to be parallel to the floor. It was out by a hair's breadth. Mentally he calculated the effect this might have over a range of 400 yards. Sweat trickled from his temples. Ro was not a warrior and had little experience with the weapon. But then, apart from Rael, neither did any other Avatar in Egaru. The Sunfires had not been needed in almost 200 years. Zhi-bows had been more than adequate against the tribes. Moving to the rear of the weapon he raised the sight, a thin arm of bronze to which was attached a circle of gold. This he lined up with the short spike at the far end of the tube.

His mouth was dry and he requested a cup of water. One of the soldiers filled a cup from a pottery jug. Ro sipped the liquid and flicked his gaze to the hourglass. The coloured sand was trickling slowly through. Not long now, he thought.

Three of the golden ships began to move, heading across the bay towards Pagaru. Four others began to glide towards the harbour. There was something about their movements which filled Ro with fear. Serene and assured, they radiated strength of purpose and enormous confidence. This is what it was like for the Khasli who faced us centuries ago, thought Ro. He shuddered inwardly. And activated the Sunfire. As the charge built up the machine began to hum. Ro could feel its vibration. This small movement in the weapon made the coming battle suddenly real. Ro felt panic welling within him.

You are an Avatar, he told himself sternly. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped it clear with the oily cloth.

'You want us on the roof, Questor?' asked one of the soldiers.

'No. Remain here. If we can, we must carry the Sunfire clear. It is too valuable to be lost in only one action.'

Ro crouched down behind the sights. Once we were truly gods, he thought. We strode the earth like giants.

We brought law and knowledge to primitive peoples. We taught them the secrets of agriculture and building.

And we made them slaves…

The first of the golden ships was slowly moving into his line of fire.

Slaves. In doing so we made slaves of ourselves, he thought. Slaves to tradition, slaves to our past.

Ro pulled the firing lever.

Nothing happened. He swore softly, his fingers flicking open the control chest. One of the crystals had slipped from its niche. He pushed it back and closed the lid. The first ship had moved on, but a second was closing. A series of dull thumping sounds came from outside, followed by a whooshing of disturbed air. Then three powerful explosions rocked the foundations of the building.

'There are fires on the dockside!' shouted one of the soldiers. They have machines upon the decks sending balls of fire over the city.'

Ro ignored him as the second ship came into his sights. He pulled the lever. Blue fire crackled from the mouth of the tube, then a brilliant white light exploded in front of Ro's eyes. Blinded, he fell back from the machine — and did not see the lightning spear slam into the warship. The gold-covered timbers were torn apart as the bolt smashed through them, expanding upon impact with terrible heat. The explosion that followed ripped the ship into three parts. Bodies were hurled through the air. A wave of heat struck the Harbour Tower. Ro, on his knees, his hands over his eyes, felt the heat wash over him.

He opened his eyes, blinking back the tears. His vision was returning slowly. Moving to the window he gazed out over the scene of destruction. Floating debris was all that was left of the golden ship. Ro felt a savage sense of elation.

Moving to the rear of the Sunfire he placed his hands over the tube, feeling the vibration of the recharge.

We have a chance, he thought. They are not as powerful as they think.

Outside, in the bay, the first of the golden ships swung back. A ball of fire whooshed up and sailed over the water, landing some 40 feet from the Harbour Tower. The explosion was awesome. Rocks and stones split under the impact and the nearest Avatar soldier was lifted from his feet and hurled back against the Harbour Tower wall, his spine smashed to shards by the impact.

The two remaining soldiers aimed their zhi-bows at the vessel, sending bolt after bolt towards the upper decks, where they exploded against the timbers, causing little damage.

A second ball of fire soared from the ship. The Avatar soldiers began to run. They had made no more than 30 yards when the ball struck the wharf causeway. The blast lifted the fleeing men, hurling them high over the water, their lifeless bodies disappearing below the surface.

Inside the Harbour Tower Ro was covered in dust and broken stones. A third ship was sailing towards him.

Ro knelt behind the Sunfire. It was still vibrating towards full charge.

The wall to his left buckled under another explosion. Part of the ceiling collapsed. A massive support timber fell, coming to a wedged halt on the top of the door frame. Ro lined up the sight and peered through the choking dust. The vibration died away. Shutting tight his eyes, he pulled the lever.

The third ship took the impact of the bolt high behind the stern. Ro opened his eyes to see the explosion that followed. The rear half of the ship disappeared in a mighty blast. The prow and the midzsection broke away.

Slowly the ship toppled and slid below the waves. Some survivors leapt clear and began to swim for the shore.

A ball of flame struck the roof of the Harbour Tower. The sound of thunder followed. The roof was ripped away, and the ceilings of the four upper storeys were punched downwards, smashing through the body of the building and burying the Sunfire and Questor Ro beneath tons of rubble.

Hidden in a narrow alleyway beside the docks the Questor General watched the destruction. Behind him buildings were ablaze and he could hear the sounds of screaming coming from trapped men. But his gaze was fixed on the first golden ship as it swung again towards the wharf.

Fifty Avatars waited with him; another 200 Vagar soldiers were hidden close by. Smoke billowed around them and several men began to cough. Rael tied a scarf over the lower half of his face. His aide Cation moved back out of sight and reappeared moments later with a bucket of water. Some men soaked their red cloaks and held these over their faces. Cation offered the water to Rael. Dipping the scarf into it he retied it. Breathing was easier now.

The golden ship closed in, nestling against the stone wall of the wharf. For a moment there was no movement. Then a score of gangplanks dropped and soldiers armed with the black clubs began to run down them. They were lightly armoured with breastplates of stiffened leather and helms of copper. They carried no shields.

As the first of them reached the dock Rael led his fifty Avatars from hiding. Swiftly they formed a fighting line and zhi-bolts slammed into the gathering enemy soldiers. Scores died, but the survivors, with great discipline, did not panic. Instead they raised their black clubs to their shoulders. The sound of thunder followed.

More than half Rael's men were punched from their feet. From further along the dock the 200 Vagars emerged and charged the attackers. It seemed to Rael that their fire-clubs were suddenly useless, and only sporadic shots followed. Vagar swordsmen hacked and cut their way through the enemy ranks. Rael yelled to his remaining archers: 'The openings! Aim for the openings!' Lifting his zhi-bow he sent a flashing bolt through the first of the gangplank doors. It exploded within, creating a burst of bright light and flame. Bolt after bolt followed. Fire sprang up within the ship.

On the dockside the Vagars in their armour of iron continued their advance. The golden ship drew back.

Soldiers still on the gangplanks toppled into the bay. The fighting on the dockside was fierce now. More than a hundred of the copper-skinned warriors had made it to the shore, but they were heavily outnumbered and fighting for their lives. Casting aside their fire-clubs they drew daggers or short swords. But they were no match for the heavily armoured Vagars.

As the ship pulled away a ball of fire whooshed from it. Rael saw it. 'Get back!' he shouted to his Vagars.

No-one heard him above the battle clamour. The fireball exploded in the midst of the fighting men. Scores on both sides died instantly, their clothing aflame, their limbs torn from their bodies. Others began to writhe in agony on the dockside, hair and skin on fire.

Panic-stricken, the surviving Vagars ran back. Almec soldiers leapt into the sea and tried to swim towards the ship.

Rael pulled his Avatars back to the alley. Flames were flickering inside the golden ship, but these were soon snuffed out.

Turning to his men he took ten of them and smashed the door to the warehouse that backed onto the alley.

Once inside he ran to the stairs, climbing up to the roof and emerging high above the dock. The golden ship was approaching again. A fireball sailed over the dock. The roof of the next building exploded. Rael began to count, slowly and evenly. As he reached fifteen a second ball hissed overhead, falling behind the building.

'On my mark shoot at the mouth of the fire weapon!' he ordered his men.

Running to the edge of the roof they aimed their bows. Rael counted slowly to ten then loosed a bolt which struck the long bronze tube jutting from the forward deck. Light blazed, but there was no damage to the weapon.

Other bolts struck home — to no effect. Rael fired again. This time the bolt flashed into the mouth of the weapon just as the fireball was emerging. It exploded in the tube. The weapon was ripped away in the explosion, sections of bronze soaring into the sky. Fierce, raging flames engulfed the ship's prow.

Listing to port, the golden vessel backed away. Another ship entered the harbour. Rael swore softly.

Questor Ro tried to open his eyes. His body was a sea of pain, his left eye swollen shut, his left arm pinned beneath a mound of rubble. He tried to move his right hand — and realized that three fingers were broken. His chest felt cramped, his breathing restricted. Opening his right eye he saw that one of the roof beams had fallen across him. His right hand was wedged against the Sunfire. It was no longer vibrating. Broken stone blocks had half-covered the weapon and the roof beam was resting on its barrel. That was why Ro had not been crushed. As the ceiling fell the beam had struck him but then been stopped by the Sunfire.

Am I dying? he wondered. The pain was excruciating. His legs ached and he tried to move his toes. It seemed to him that he could, but then he remembered an amputee once telling him that he could still feel the fingers of the hand that had been lost. Ro dragged back his broken right hand and tried to reach the pocket of his torn tunic.

The fractured fingers flared with fresh pain as he reached inside and he was unable to draw out the crystal.

Instead he laid his hand gently upon it and began to speak the first of the Six Rituals. The pain subsided and he felt the bones begin to knit. As his strength returned he pushed away the rocks covering his belly and legs and wriggled free. As he did so he saw one of the golden ships, its prow aflame, backing out of the harbour. A second ship was moving alongside.

Ro scrambled to the rear of the Sunfire, pushing aside the rubble. The firing handle had snapped off halfway down and the rear sight was gone. Even so he could see that the weapon was pointing directly at the two ships.

He paused momentarily. Even if the weapon fired he could only take out one of the vessels. The other would certainly destroy him.

Death. That long descent into darkness. It was an appalling thought for a man who could live for ever.

What is life without honour? he asked himself. Grabbing the broken handle he wrenched it down. For a moment nothing happened. Then a blue flash erupted from a fracture in the barrel — and the last bolt it would ever fire tore itself clear of the Sunfire. The weapon had been tilted by the roof fall and the massive bolt of energy almost missed the second ship. The charge struck high on the upper deck, ripping the control cabin clear.

Deflected, the bolt shot high into the sky where it burst with the sound of a hundred thunders.

The stricken golden ship increased its speed and clove through the water towards the docks. It loosed no fireballs, nor slowed as it approached the wharf. Its prow struck the stone. The timbers shivered and gave. And the ship ploughed on, smashing its hull, then listing heavily. Men scrambled to the decks and jumped over the side.

Ro eased himself clear of the ruined Harbour Tower and sat down on the rubble. He was tired and still in great pain, but he watched with dispassionate interest as Rael and his archers killed the survivors.

The golden ship tilted once more, then rolled and sank.

Outside the harbour the lead ship drew back. Across the bay four more of the golden vessels were sending fireballs into the helpless city of Pagaru.

Crouched on the western battlements of Pagaru, Niclin and four senior officers waited for the invasion.

Behind them a score of buildings were ablaze. Bodies littered the streets. A section of the wall to Niclin's right was torn away. Three Avatar soldiers were carried to their deaths.

Keeping low, Niclin edged along the battlements and peered through the hole in the wall. The first of the golden ships was gliding towards the dockside. Openings appeared in the ship's hull and Niclin could see warriors gathering there.

Suddenly a huge explosion lit up the sky. Niclin blinked, and transferred his gaze out to sea. One of the golden ships was listing badly, smoke pouring from her mid-section. As Niclin watched she toppled and sank swiftly below the waves. Below, in the harbour, the openings in the golden ship's hull were swiftly being closed as the vessel drew back. His view restricted, Niclin pushed himself to his feet — and saw salvation!

Like a black shadow of death Serpent Seven hove into sight, her dark prow cutting through the waves at full speed. A blast of light flashed from her, striking a second golden ship, ripping away the stern. The two remaining Almec vessels sped out to sea, and the Serpent swung back into the harbour.

Avatar soldiers moved from their hiding places at the dockside and began cheering. Niclin himself felt a wave of exultation, but he quelled it and marched back along the battlements to where his officers waited.

Keeping his voice calm he told them to organize fire crews and rescue workers. Then he strode down to the dockside.

As the gangplank was lowered Niclin boarded the ship. A young Vagar sailor led him to Talaban's cabin.

Niclin entered. The tribesman Touchstone was seated on the rug. Talaban rose from behind his desk, bowed and offered the Questor a goblet of wine.

'Your arrival was timely, captain,' said Niclin, accepting the drink. 'Though it would have been more pleasant to see you an hour ago.'

'The fault was entirely mine, Questor. We took shelter from the storm last night. It delayed our arrival.'

'A shame it did not do the same for the Almecs.'

'They are under no power restraints,' said Talaban. 'Are your casualties high?'

Niclin sipped his wine. He did not like Talaban, but he knew he was being surly towards a man who had proved the saviour of the city. He sighed, and when he spoke his voice softened. 'Rescue work is just beginning, but I would think several hundred lost their lives. You used the Sunfire well, Talaban. If we had five more like it we could even win this war.'

'It is not lost yet, Questor,' Talaban pointed out.

'No, not yet. Eight of the golden ships sailed up the Luan. They will have landed an army to our rear. An equal number moved south. The Questor General has sent orders to Pejkan, Boria and Caval to surrender without a fight. He believes such a move will prevent excess casualties, and destruction to property. I disagree. If he had commanded the Vagars to fight they would have killed at least some of the enemy.'

'And been wiped out in the process,' Talaban pointed out. 'And that would have affected the morale within the twin cities.'

'Those are all we control now,' said Niclin, sourly. 'Five golden ships have been destroyed. Nineteen remain.

And, within days, there will be two — perhaps three — land-based armies to oppose us.'

'One problem at a time, Questor,' said Talaban. 'Today we have a victory. Let that suffice for now.'

Niclin nodded, and when he spoke again there was sadness in his voice. 'I saw three Avatars killed today. In an instant. Men I have known for more than two hundred years.' He flicked his fingers. 'Like that they were gone. This morning they were immortal. They were gods. Now they are twisted dead flesh. If I were a religious man I would suspect that the Source has deserted us.'

Talaban poured a goblet of wine and handed it to Niclin. 'It seems to me,' he said, 'that victory always goes to the strong. The Source — if such a creature there be — has little to do with it.'

Touchstone chuckled and shook his head.

'You have something to say, savage?' said Niclin.

Touchstone moved smoothly to his feet. 'You dream small dreams,' he said. Then he left the room.

Thirty-five Avatars had lost their lives on this, the first day of battle. Thirty-five immortals. Men whose lives had spanned the centuries. Rael sat in the Council Chamber, his heart heavy. With him were Questors Niclin and Caprishan and strewn on the table before them were several of the black fire-clubs. Lifting one, Rael examined it. There was a long hollow metal barrel, encased in polished wood, and a number of sprung levers. 'It is not a weapon of magic,' said Niclin. 'It is not linked to the mind of the user.' Opening a pouch found on the body of a dead Almec he tipped the contents to the table. It was filled with a gritty black powder. A second pouch contained small round balls of heavy metal. 'In some way,' continued Niclin, 'these balls are propelled with great force along the barrel.'

'Find out how,' said Rael.

'We captured fifty Almecs,' said Caprishan. 'They are being questioned now. But they are hardy men and are saying little.'

Rael glanced up. His eyes were cold. 'Take ten of them to the Crystal Chamber. Draw the life from one of them while the others watch. Then see how swiftly they want to speak.'

'The weapons are not as effective as zhi-bows, Rael,' said Niclin.

'I want to know everything about them. Their range, the speed of use. On the dock they were used once only.

I saw men struggling to recharge them. How long does such a recharge take?'

'We will discover these things,' said Niclin. 'The question is, what action do we take now?'

There is nothing we can do,' said Rael. 'They act, we react. We do not have the men to carry the battle to them. Not yet. But Viruk has gone to aid Ammon. With his army, and the tribes who owe him allegiance, we can yet destroy the invaders.'

'You really believe we can achieve a victory?' asked Caprishan.

'I have to believe it,' said Rael.

It was midnight before the carriage came to a halt outside his home and Questor Ro climbed down wearily, neglecting to thank the driver. Ro's broken hand was extremely painful, and his ribs and left leg were aching. He had used the ritual to begin the healing process, but broken bones needed at least four sessions, and no more than two in any single day. Otherwise the point of the break remained brittle and liable to snap easily.

He limped towards his front door. A servant saw him coming and, bowing low, stepped out to greet him. Ro paused at the steps and stared back over the city. From the high ground where his imposing home was situated Ro could look down on the harbour and the estuary beyond. Some buildings were still burning, and a red glow hung over the docks. He sighed, and felt the pain of his wounds.

'May the Source be praised that you are alive, lord,' said Sempes, bowing again. Ro looked closely at the old man and wondered if he meant it. It was not a thought that would have occurred to him before today.

'How long have you been with me, old one?' he asked.

'Thirty-three years, lord.'

'Are you married?'

'I was, lord. My wife died last year.'

'I am sorry for your loss.' The old man looked at him quizzically.

'Are you ill, lord?'

'I think that I have been. Would you be so kind as to prepare me a bath?'

'I shall arrange it immediately, lord. The water is already being heated.'

Ro stepped into the hallway and gazed around at the lantern-lit walls. They were covered with beautiful paintings, landscapes of Parapolis and the surrounding countryside. 'Let me remove your boots, lord,' said Sempes, kneeling beside a gold-embossed chair. Ro sat down and extended his right leg. Sempes pulled the boot clear. Ro winced as the old man tugged at his left boot. 'Your leg is hurt, lord. I am sorry.'

'It will heal. Do not concern yourself.'

Sempes moved away and returned with soft velvet slippers, which he eased into place. Ro felt indescribably weary and was about to tell the old man to forget the bath when Sempes spoke again.

'Your guest is in the garden room, lord. I lit a fire for her.'

'My guest?'

'The raven-haired lady you brought home earlier. She has been here since late last night. I hope I did right in allowing her to stay.'

'Yes, you did.' Ro pushed himself to his feet and made his way across the hall, through the narrow library and on into the garden room. Pausing in the doorway to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the dim light from the dying fire, he scanned the room. There were four couches and two deep, hide-covered chairs. Sofarita was asleep in the chair by the fire.

As he entered, the four unlit lanterns in the room flickered into bright life, sharp shadows forming in the three arches that led to his garden. Sofarita sat up.

'Do they still seek to kill me?' she asked him.

'They have other problems on their minds,' he told her.

'Come to me,' she commanded him. And, to his surprise, he obeyed her. Sofarita rose and took his injured hand in her own. All pain vanished. Lifting his hand he curled his fingers into a fist. The bones were completely healed. 'You were very brave, Questor Ro,' she said, softly. 'When you loosed the third bolt you thought the weapon would explode in your face. You thought you were going to die.'

'Yes, I did.'

'And yet you fought on. That was noble.'

The little man reddened. 'Why did you come here?'

'You will still need my help, Avatar. Tell me, how is the soldier whose legs I broke?'

'Resting. It will take time for such breaks to heal.'

'I hurt him badly,' she said. 'I allowed my anger to overwhelm me. It will not happen again. Tomorrow I will heal him also.'

Ro sat down in a chair opposite hers. 'How soon will they return, do you think?' he asked her.

Sofarita shrugged. 'I do not believe they will attack the cities by sea again. But they have landed an army to the south. Three thousand men, and beasts. Another army is sailing down the Luan. There will be great slaughter and destruction.'

'What can we do?'

'What else can you do but follow your natures?' she told him. 'You are what you are.'

'Do you hate the Avatar so much?' he asked, hearing the contempt in her voice.

She gave a wistful smile. 'You misunderstand me, Questor Ro. I was not talking of the Avatar. I was speaking of Man. So much is clear to me now and every day it grows clearer still. We do what we are born to do.

My Aunt Lalia has a cat. It is well fed, and wants for nothing. Yet it will — with its belly full — creep into the meadow and kill a bird. It does not eat the bird. Why then does it kill? One might as well ask why a flower grows or the rain falls. It kills because it is designed to kill. That is its purpose. It has fangs and claws and great speed. It is a hunter. If then it does not hunt what purpose does it serve?' Sofarita fell silent for a moment. Then she spoke again. 'A few weeks ago I was a widow living in a small village. I knew my role, and I played it well. I was demure in the company of men, and I worked in the fields with the other women. When my period of mourning was done I would have accepted my father's choice of a new husband and I would have borne him children. I am no longer that village girl. I see the world with larger eyes. And I can fly on the winds of time.

Today I journeyed far, I saw Man. I watched him as he crept from the deep jungles, his body covered in thick fur. I saw his intelligence develop and his skills increase. Those skills were always allied to death. Do you know the greatest discovery made by man six hundred thousand years ago?' Ro shook his head. She laughed, but there was little humour in the sound. 'He learned that a javelin's weight must be heaviest a third of the way from the point. It ensures good flight and maximum killing. He had a language based on grunts and gestures, but he learned to make a javelin. I have seen many things, Questor Ro. Events to break the strongest heart. Man is like the cat. No matter what wealth he possesses, no matter how contented his life, no matter how advanced his learning, he will yearn to fight, to defeat and kill a perceived enemy.'

'Not all men behave in this way,' said Ro.

That is true,' she conceded. 'And what is their fate? I have watched them also, the poets, the spiritual leaders, the dreamers of harmony. Can you name more than a handful who were not murdered?'

'I cannot. What you say is true, but what choice do we have now! The Almecs are evil and seek to destroy us.

What else can we do but resist them?'

'You can do nothing else. For you are a man. But beware when you speak of their evil. They are merely a distorted reflection of the Avatar. They live on the blood of others, ritually sacrificing thousands, tearing out their hearts. You Avatars are little different, save that your crystals draw life without the accompanying gore. If the Almecs are evil — then so are you. And they are evil, Questor Ro.'

Ro settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was weary now, and the truth of her words hung on him like the weight of death. 'Why is it that I could not see this before?' he asked her. 'Why is it so clear to me now?'

'I had not touched you then. The power is new to me, and I have not yet learned how to control it. I inadvertently opened a window in your soul that had long been closed. I could close it again for you, should you desire it.'

Ro shook his head. 'I do not want to lose it again. I feel whole now. Like when I was a child, and the world was full of wonder. What happened to me? How did I lose that youthful passion, that belief in humanity?'

'Speck by speck,' she told him, 'so that you did not know what you were losing. It is the nature of men to build walls around themselves. They think it will protect them from hurt. It does the opposite. The hurt still gets in, but now it rattles around the walls, unable to get out. So you build more walls. You are now seeing the world without walls. You are free, Ro. Free to hurt and free to heal.'

'What would you have me do?'

She smiled then, a radiant smile, and, leaning forward, took his hand. 'Go and take your bath. Then rest.

Tomorrow I shall speak with the Questor General. You will bring him here.'

'You are still willing to help us?'

'I will aid you in your battle with the Almecs.'