Echoes of the Great Song

Chapter Eight

Anwar was teaching when the soldiers came. His six senior students were engaged in a complex building problem concerning weight and stress. Anwar had shown them designs for a building and they were working together to decide whether it was structurally sound. He knew they would decide it was not. It was at this point he would tell them it was a copy of the Museum building in Egaru. They would then have to recalculate their findings.

He enjoyed teaching and loved to see the minds of his students expand. The young were a constant wonder to him, with a seemingly limitless ability to make instinctive leaps of imagination. Their minds were not yet enclosed by the walls of tradition.

When the soldiers came Anwar felt a moment of irritation. Instructing the students to continue in his absence and write their conclusions upon their slates, he left the class. Throwing a cloak of red felt about his scrawny shoulders he walked ahead of the two soldiers and out into the sunlight beyond. The bright light made his old eyes weep. Squinting against the sunshine he moved on, away from the new university building. A chariot and driver awaited him. He clambered onto the platform. 'Not too fast,' he warned the driver. The man grinned, and flicked his whip above the heads of the two ponies.

The ride was mercifully short, and Anwar felt enormous relief as he stepped down before the mud-brick palace. He glanced up at it feeing, as always, a sense of distaste. It was clumsily constructed, ugly and square.

The architects had shown little imagination.

A royal guard took him through to Ammon's apartments. The king was lying face down on a table, his naked body being massaged by a young slave. Anwar stood silently in the doorway. Ammon raised himself on one elbow and grinned boyishly.

'Good to see you, my teacher,' he said.

'Always a privilege to be invited to your home, lord,' replied Anwar. Ammon dismissed the slave boy, draped a cloak of heavy blue silk about his slender shoulders and walked out into the gardens beyond. Flowering trees filled the air with a heady scent. The king stretched himself out on the grass, beckoning Anwar to join him.

'How is life at the university?' asked Ammon.

'It will be better next year,' answered Anwar. 'And the year after. Some of my pupils are now more expert than the teachers. I shall appoint some of them to the university staff.'

'Good. Knowledge is the key to the future,' said Ammon. 'I remember you taught me that.'

'You were a fine student, lord. Perhaps the best I ever knew.'

'Perhaps?' queried Ammon with a wide smile. 'One never uses the word perhaps to a king. You are not a diplomat, Anwar.'

'I fear not, lord.'

Ammon glanced round, caught the eye of a waiting servant and summoned him. 'Fetch cool drinks for myself and my guest,' he said. The man bowed low and ran back into the palace. The king lay back on the grass, the sunlight bringing a gleam to his oiled skin. 'One raiding party was wiped out by the Avatars,' he said.

'As you predicted, sire. I take it your brother is no longer a thorn in the flesh.'

'No. Sadly he died. What was interesting, however, is that the enemy sent only a small group of Vagars led by a single Avatar.'

'Viruk?'

'The very same. Such a small response to our provocation. What does this mean?'

'They are weaker than they appear, lord.'

'Indeed so. And yet I do not believe this is the time to strike at them directly.'

'Might I enquire as to your reasoning, lord?'

The servant returned with golden goblets brimming with the juice of several fruits. Ammon thanked him and sat up. 'Whoever strikes first — even if he wins — will be weakened. My army could — possibly — overrun the five cities. We would suffer enormous losses. How then would we counter an attack from our tribal enemies?'

'I find your reasoning sound, lord,' said Anwar. 'It would therefore be advantageous if our own enemies made the first attack.'

'Precisely. And by a happy coincidence that it is what Judon of the Patiakes is planning.'

'How can I be of assistance, lord?'

Ammon sipped his drink. 'Our people in the cities must do nothing to aid Judon once the battle starts. Quite the opposite, in fact. They must assist the Avatars in every way.'

'I will get a message to them. One of my agents is leaving today, with gold to finance the Pajists. But I fear they will not react well to the order. Their hatred of the Avatars blinds them to more far-sighted objectives.'

'You have the names of all the Pajists?'

'All the leaders, lord.'

'They will see the destruction of the Avatars, and my promises kept. Then they must die.'

'Indeed they shall, lord.'

A cloud obscured the sun. The king shivered. 'Let us go inside. I am hungry.'

Questor General Rael was not often surprised. In his eight hundred years he had experienced all that human life could offer and, like many of the older Questors, found himself living in a constant circle of previously experienced events. He had known friendship and betrayal, love and hate, and all the misty manoeuvring that swam between them. In the course of his eight centuries friends had become enemies, loved ones had sought to harm him, and bitter enemies had become brothers of the blood. There was little new to experience. So when surprise touched him he treated it like a gift. Even when it was a gift tarnished by pain.

He stood now on the wall above the eastern gate of Egaru, staring out over the rich farmlands spreading out on both sides of the Luan River. Like all Avatars he was ageless, seemingly no more than thirty, his blue hair close-cropped, his lean body clad in a white shirt-tunic of heavy silk, embroidered with gold thread at the high collar and the cuffs. His long legs were encased in leggings of the finest leather, and he wore knee-length riding boots crafted from crocodile skin. Rael carried no weapons, and boasted no jewellery. No rings glittered upon his fingers, no circlet of gold gleamed upon his brow.

The sun was bright and hot in a clear blue sky above the city and Rael gratefully accepted the cool drink his aide Cation proffered to him. Cation was not yet seventy, one of the few Avatars not to have been born when the world fell. Like all the younger men, he eschewed the full head of blue hair, but followed the fashion set by Viruk of having the temples dyed. Cation was of Rael's line — the great-grandson of Rael's third great-grandson.

Rael liked the lad. 'What have we discovered about Judon's plans?' he asked.

'The tribal leaders have been called to a gathering to discuss territorial matters,' said Cation. 'The Mud People refuse to attend, but all others have accepted. It is to be held in five days at Ren-el-gan, which the tribes believe was once the Well of Life. It has always been a meeting place and is considered holy ground.'

'What reason did the Erek-jhip-zhonad give for their refusal to attend?'

'The king told them the date was inauspicious, as it coincided with a religious festival.'

Rael smiled. 'He wasn't asked to joint-lead the Gathering.'

'No, sir. Judon of the Patiakes is acting alone.'

'What do we know of Judon?' asked Rael. He already knew the answer, but wished to see how much study the younger man had given to the current crisis.

'He has been Lord of the Patiakes for seventeen years, taking the mantle following the death of his father; He has more than twelve thousand warriors from a tribe numbering almost forty thousand. They are nomadic by nature, and exist in sub-clans. These number almost three hundred.'

'The man, Cation. Tell me about the man.'

'He is a harsh ruler, and claims to be descended from the prophet who discovered the Well of Life.' Cation fell silent for a moment. 'I am sorry, sir. I don't know what else to tell you.'

'You could tell me that he is fat and weighs more than any three men in your section, which implies he is a greedy man. You could add that he has forty wives and more than fifty concubines, which suggests he lusts after more than he can sustain. This prophet you speak of promised that the tribes would one day own the world. He predicted the coming of a warlord from his line. Judon, in claiming to be his descendant, is trying on the mantle of that warlord. These things alone would suggest he has great ambitions. This Gathering has not been called to discuss minor territorial disagreement between the tribes. It is to declare Judon as the warlord, and will mean an army of close to fifty thousand will attack the five cities before the autumn.'

'We will not be able to stop them, sir,' said Cation. 'Not once they march,' agreed the General. 'Now, what progress has been made in tracking down those responsible for the killing of Questor Baliel?'

'We are still gathering information, sir. But there has been much talk in Egaru concerning a group calling themselves Pajists, which in the old Vagar tongue means—' 'I know what it means. Assassins.' 'Indeed, sir. We have many informers, and they have all been instructed to gather information about the group. However, though there is much talk, there is little evidence so far.'

'I have read the reports,' said Rael. 'Two of your best informers have died recently. Is that not so?'

'Yes, sir. What is your point? Both were accidents. Several witnesses saw the first leaving a tavern drunk. He fell from the wharf and drowned. The second was a blacksmith. He was kicked in the head by a horse. Witnesses observed the accident.'

'Bring in the witnesses and question them under duress,' ordered Rael.

'For what purpose, sir?'

'Cation, you are a blood relative, and I love you dearly. But you do not think. The drunk would have had to walk two miles to the docks in order to fall into the sea. His home was in the opposite direction. Even assuming he had staggered for two miles do you not think he would have sobered sufficiently to avoid such a fall? And what was he doing at the docks at midnight? The gates are locked. Are you suggesting the drunken man walked two miles out of his way, then climbed a gate, with the express purpose of hurling himself into the sea? As to the blacksmith, the back of his skull was caved in. How many blacksmiths do you know who would approach a horse backwards?'

'I see, sir. I am sorry. I have been remiss.'

'Indeed you have. Both men were murdered. First bring in the witnesses to the blacksmith's death. When you have questioned them for several hours, keeping them from sleep, send for me. I will conclude the examinations.'

'Yes, sir.'

Dismissing Cation he walked back along the wall, down a circular stairwell and out into the compound.

Soldiers were training here under the watchful eyes of their Avatar officers. As he passed, the Vagar soldiers saluted.

Questor General Rael entered the officers' section, passed through the empty halls and climbed to his study on the third floor. Once there he sat at his desk, swinging the chair so that he could look out of the window and see the distant mountains.

Today there had been two surprises, one curious, one joyful.

For the moment he concentrated on the joyful. One of Questor Anu's acolytes had brought him news of the success of the southern expedition. They had replenished four chests and were on their way home. They should arrive within two weeks.

Rael had expressed his thanks and his best wishes to Anu. The acolyte bowed.

'You may express your thanks in person, my lord, for Questor Anu asked me to invite you to his home. At noon, if it is convenient.'

This was the second surprise. Anu, the Holy One, had withdrawn from public life more than thirty years before. It was, he said, his intention to age and die. He had given his crystals to Rael and retired to his home on the hill above the bay. His decision affected his popularity among the Avatar. He was the Saviour, the one Avatar to predict the fall of the world. He had convinced more than 200 people to join him on a trek to the north, leading them over rugged plains and barren mountains, across deserts and valleys, arriving at last at the gates of Pagaru, the first of the five cities. There were only sixty other Avatars this far north, and they greeted the arriving column with cold courtesy.

The following day the earth had tilted and the sun had risen in the west.

Anu's prediction had been correct, and he had become the Holy One. But his decision to age and die was obscene. No Avatar would even consider such a course. The full Council of Questors voted to place him under house arrest in order to prevent Vagars from witnessing the grotesque deterioration of a supreme being. The five cities contained more than 200,000 Vagars. They were controlled by a mere 570 Avatars. The Questors feared that if Anu was seen to age like any mortal the Vagars would cease to hold them in such awe. Avatar soldiers now guarded the exits, and all of Anu's Vagar servants had been taken away.

He was attended now by three Avatar acolytes, and had not been in contact with any on the Council since that day thirty years ago.

Now he requested the presence of Rael.

The Questor General left his office and moved through to his apartments. A Vagar servant bowed as he entered, and informed him that the Lady Mirani was in the roof garden. Rael climbed the circular stair and emerged into the sunshine. The garden had been designed by Viruk twenty years before, and the air was heavy with the scent of roses and honeysuckle. Mirani was sitting in the shade of an arched trellis, that was adorned by a climbing multi-coloured rose of yellow, red and white. Rael paused and took in a deep breath. Even after a hundred years he found Mirani's beauty intoxicating. Her long, fair hair, dyed blue at the temples, was tied back now with a white ribbon, and she was leaning forward, paintbrush in hand, adding delicate touches to a newly shaped pottery vase. A touch of blue paint had marked the skin of her cheek. Rael felt the burden of responsibility lift from him. He was a man again. Sensing his presence, she turned and smiled.

'What do you think?' she asked him, pointing to the vase.

'It is beautiful,' he said.

'You haven't looked at it.' Moving across the garden he knelt by her side. The vase was tall and slim necked, and Mirani had painted exquisite female figures all around it. They were running and laughing. 'The Maidens of Contar,' she explained. 'You remember the myth? They heard the enchanted music of Varabidis, and left their homes to seek him on the mountain.'

'As I said, it is beautiful. But where is Varabidis? Should he not be present?'

'They did not want him, they wanted his music.' Mirani leaned back. 'What brings you home so early?'

He told her about the summons from Anu. 'Perhaps the Holy One has repented of his decision to die and wishes to join the Council once more,' he concluded.

'I do not think so,' said Mirani. 'Anu is not a fickle man.'

'I do not wish to see him withered and ancient. The thought is obscene.'

Mirani shook her head. 'You see old people all the time, Rael. If Anu has called for you then the matter is of importance. As I said, he is not fickle, and he certainly is not frivolous. Perhaps he has experienced another vision. You must go to him.'

'I know.' Taking a cloth he wiped the blue smear from her cheek. 'You should return to the Council,' he said.

'You are ten times wiser than Caprishan.'

'I no longer have any interest in politics.'

'That is something I have never understood.'

She smiled. 'The moment you do you will walk away as I did.'

'You think what I do has no merit?'

'Not at all. Society will always need to be governed. But here is a question for you, my dear. What does a normal man desire?'

'A family, a home, children. Enough food on the table. Health and a little wealth,' he said.

'Exactly. And when a man has these things, but desires to control — as a councillor — the lives of others, that makes him abnormal. A man who seeks to rule everyone must necessarily be extremely abnormal. It could be argued that such a desire to rule should disqualify any applicant.'

Rael laughed. 'In that case you are the perfect councillor, since you have no desire to be one.'

Her smile faded. 'Perhaps. But I served for sixty years, Rael, and I saw too much. Now go and see Anu. Give him my love.'

On his favourite grey gelding the Questor General rode through the Park of the West, and up over the clifftops. There was a cool breeze coming from the sea, and the smell of salt was strong in the air. He rode down through the small wood and onto the paved road that led down to the docks. Then he cut to the right, guiding the grey up along the unpaved trail until he reached the wrought-iron gates of Anu's home. Two Avatar soldiers saluted as he dismounted. Leaving his horse with them he strolled through the grounds and was met by the same acolyte who had brought the message. This man, his head shaved, but his beard dyed blue, led him through the house and up to a small library on the first floor. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows, shutting out all natural light, and the room was lit by three glowing lanterns. Anu was sitting in a deep leather chair, an open scroll upon his lap. He was asleep, but woke as the acolyte gently touched his shoulder. 'Ah, Rael,' said the old man, running his bony fingers through his white, shoulder-length hair. 'Welcome to my home.'

Rael found Anu's appearance sickening. The old man's skin was dry and flaking, like a lizard left in the sun.

His neck scrawny, fleshless and withered. Rael kept his disgust from his face and sat down opposite the frail old man. 'Why are you putting yourself through this?' asked Rael.

The ancient face broke into a smile. 'Why are you not?' he asked.

Rael shook his head. There was no point in arguing. That had all been done years ago. 'Shall I draw back the curtains? It is a glorious day.'

'No, Rael. I like the gloom.' He settled back and closed his eyes again.

'You wished to see me,' said Rael, holding his temper.

Anu's eyes snapped open. 'I am sorry. One of the penalties of age, you know. Ah, of course, you don't know.

Anyway… You have four full chests, Rael. They will be the last. A volcanic eruption has destroyed the line.'

'Four will give us a few years. Much may happen in that time.'

'Indeed it certainly will.' The old man's eyes closed and, for a moment, Rael thought him to be sleeping. Then he spoke again. 'We lose much, Rael, by being ever-young.'

'And what is that?'

'Flexibility. Understanding. Perspective. The physical frailties are many, but they are assuaged by a wealth of insights. All living things in nature grow, die and are reborn. Even the earth, as we have so painfully witnessed.

Not so the Avatar. We have forgotten how to grow, Rael. To adapt and change. We are what we were a thousand years ago. Perhaps not even that. A thousand years ago the Avatar Prime and I designed the White Pyramid. It was a wonder, a work of genius from among a gifted people. What new inventions can we boast from the last two hundred years? What strides have we made? We are frozen in time, Rael, and we exist as merely echoes of a great song.'

'All that you say may be correct, though I doubt it,' said Rael, 'but do you think that by ageing and dying we would improve? And even if that were true, how many would accept it? I, for one, would not. I like being young and strong.'

'The crystals were the blessing that became a curse,' said Anu sadly. 'But I have learned much in these last years.' The old man smiled. 'Once I stopped using the crystals my visions became sharper. I see much now that was hidden from me.'

'Is that why you wished to see me?'

'In part, Rael. Would you fetch me some water?' The Questor General rose and moved to a slender table crafted from bronze in the shape of a bush with golden leaves. Upon the bronze leaves lay a long, rectangular slab of blue-stained glass and upon this a clay pitcher and two golden goblets.

Rael chuckled. 'The gold looks incongruous against the clay,' he said. 'I shall send you a more suitable pitcher.'

'It is suitable,' said Anu, accepting a goblet of water with a trembling hand. 'It reminds me that no matter how great our wealth the source of all life comes from the humble earth.'

'Always the teacher,' said Rael amiably, seating himself once more opposite the old man.

'It is my nature,' agreed Anu.

'And you are a great teacher, my old friend. Without you the empire would have died. We should have listened to your teachings.'

'You still should, Rael. But that is a debate for another day. I want you to give me one of the chests.'

The request surprised Rael. 'For what purpose?'

'I shall build a new pyramid, to almost the same specifications as that of the Avatar Prime.'

Rael remained silent. The ramifications of the offer were enormous. Such a pyramid would ensure the rule of the Avatars for the next thousand years. 'How can you do this? The Music is gone. How will you fashion twenty-ton blocks and move them? And if you find a way to do that, how will you raise them into place? It is impossible.'

'The Music is not lost, Rael,' the old man told him. The words were spoken simply and without arrogance.

'Show me!' whispered the General. From the pocket of his cavernous gown Anu drew forth a small flute.

Pushing himself to his feet he stood before Rael. 'Drop to your knees and extend your right hand,' he told him.

Rael did so. Anu lifted the flute to his lips and began to blow a series of notes, soft as an autumn wind through the grass, light as down, sweet as the first bird call of spring. For a moment only, Rael became lost in the music, and then he saw Anu step onto his outstretched hand. He tensed, expecting the old man's foot to stamp on his fingers, driving them into the floor. Instead his hand did not move, and the ancient Questor levered himself up to balance on Rael's palm. The music died away.

'Rise, Rael,' said Questor Anu. 'Lift me to the ceiling.'

Rael rose easily, raising his arm as if it carried no more than a feather. He could feel no weight at all from the old man. 'Now bring me down,' said Anu. 'Lower me to my chair.'

Rael lowered his hand, then took hold of Anu's bony arm and watched him float gently into the wide armchair.

'Why did you not tell us?' asked Rael.

'What purpose would it have achieved? I wanted other Avatars to pursue the ancient knowledge — to master it. To prove to me there was a future for our race. But none have come forward. Save perhaps Ro, and he is too rooted in the past to stretch his hand towards the future.'

'But you could have taught us!' said Rael, torn between feelings of awe and exasperation. 'These have been difficult years for us. With your powers we could have achieved so much more.'

Anu shook his head. 'The answers were always there, in the mathematics. But you still do not grasp what I am saying, Rael. My mental powers have increased since I stopped using the crystals. It is mortality itself that gives us the desire to learn, to adapt, to forge new paths into the future. Without that we become locked in place, desiring only more of the same. Now, will you grant me a chest?'

'I will. But why have you changed your mind? What vision have you experienced?'

'Ask me again when two moons appear in the night sky.'

Rael took that to mean Anu was unwilling to discuss his reasons. He considered the offer, and found that his mouth was dry. What the Holy One was suggesting was almost frightening. For it meant the rebirth of hope, and the consequent fear of despair.

'How long will it take?' he asked, knowing the answer would be in decades, and wondering how they could survive in the meantime.

'Six months.'

The answer was a shock. Rael sighed. Was the old man senile after all? 'You taught me mathematics, Anu.

Now, if I remember correctly there were a million blocks in the White Pyramid

'One million, one hundred and seventy thousand,' the old man corrected him.

'Very well. If I divide that number by the number of days in a year I find you will need to quarry, cut, move and place two thousand nine hundred blocks a day — blocks weighing more than thirty tons.'

'Three thousand four hundred and twenty-two,' said Anu. 'That is why I need the chest.'

'With a hundred chests you could not do it!' snapped Rael. 'You are limited by the speed of your workmen.'

'Not at all,' said Anu softly. 'I am limited only by time. How long have you been here, Rael?'

'Half an hour, perhaps a few minutes longer. Why?'

'You arrived, as requested, at noon. Now you may draw the curtains.'

Rael strode across the room and dragged back the heavy velvet cloth. Beyond the window it was night, the stars bright in the sky. Rael blinked, stared at the pale moon, then swung back to the old man. 'An illusion?' he asked.

'No. You have been here for ten hours. Time is also part of the Music, Rael. You are quite correct. Even by dismantling the four failed pyramids, and using some of their blocks it would take six hundred skilled workers more than twenty years to complete. We do not have twenty years. We have — at best — six months. I shall use the Music to make time dance for me. Here in this room I have slowed time. In the Valley of the Stone Lion I shall — with the power of the chest — increase it twentyfold.'

'But you have done this here without crystals? It is hard to believe.'

'The crystals merely enhance our powers. The true strength comes from within. That is the knowledge we have lost.' He paused, and fixed Rael with a searching gaze. 'Now, there is something else you will need to consider, Questor General — and it is a revolutionary thought.'

'And that is?'

'My six hundred workers.'

'What about them?'

'They will age at twenty times the normal rate. Many of them would not see out the year.'

'I will find you more.'

Anu shook his head. 'You do not understand, Rael. The timing is vital. Six months. Not a day more. I cannot achieve this if my workforce is ageing and dying around me. Every day that passes, within the Dance, they will become more skilful, increasing the speed of the project. This too has been used in my calculations. As has the slowing of the Dance every five of your days to allow three months' supplies to be brought through to us.'

Realization struck Rael. 'You think to use crystals on Vagars? By Heavens, man, the Council will never allow it.'

'Then don't tell them.'

'I have no choice.'

'It is a military decision, Rael. And that means it is yours to make alone.'

'The pyramid is not a weapon, nor are we under attack.'

'I do not lie, Rael. It is a military decision. As to the Vagars, they will not know they are crystal-fed. All they will be told is that we are using great magic. The men I hire will be told a part of the truth — that twenty years will pass in the Valley of the Stone Lion, while only two seasons will touch the world beyond. I will also promise them that, because of the magic, they will not age. And each man will receive a wage totalling thirty years of service. Each of them will be rich when he returns.'

'You are asking for a lot of trust,' said Rael. 'Both from me — and from the men who will toil for twenty years.'

'Much could go wrong,' admitted the old man. 'But I must not fail, my friend. You have no idea how important this is.'

'I am sure you will tell me in your own good time, my friend,' said Rael, rising to leave. 'By the way, Mirani sends her love.'

Anu relaxed and smiled. 'She is a good woman — too good for you, I fear.'

'Who could disagree,' replied Rael, returning the smile. 'She will not return to the Council. She spends her time now Grafting pots and painting them.'

'There will still be potters when we are a fading memory,' said Anu.