The other lands

CHAPTER FORTY

Leeka Alain. It really was the old general. Several days after encountering the man, Kelis still found himself reliving his surprise. He watched him askance whenever he could, relearning his sun-browned features and trying to order the details of the man's life in a way that might explain his presence here in the arid expanse of southern Talay. Here was the man who had commanded the Northern Guard in Hanish Mein's time. He was the first to face the Numrek, the first to kill one of those giants. They had called him the rhino rider, for he had descended the Methalian Rim into the Mainland atop one of the Numrek's woolly beasts. He had been too late with his news of the coming invaders. Though he fought hard and long on many fronts, he had not been able to repell Hanish's multipronged attack. Leeka had been lost to the world after that, only to appear years later to rally Aliver's troops against Maeander on the Taneh Plains of northern Talay. And then he had disappeared during the chaos unleashed by the Santoth.

Now it was nine years later and again the veteran general had rejoined the living. He was no longer simply a hard-bitten soldier. He was something else now, but just what that something was Kelis could not say. Leeka did not look a day older than when Kelis had last seen him. Yes, at first his features had seemed to shift and reshape themselves, but that had stopped after a few hours. His face took on a normal solidity, his jaw square, mouth wide, cheekbones high.

His eyes, Kelis remembered, had been penetrating, those of a commander of soldiers who dealt with the world with a hawklike sharpness. Now his eyes seemed to absorb the world, as if he were hungry for everything he saw.

"Walk with me," Leeka had said, "and your questions will be answered." That was all he had bidden them do. Benabe balked and Naamen questioned and Kelis felt the weight of that simple request like a stone in his gut. He felt he had no control over their fate, no leadership to offer except the authority to place them in the hands of forces he did not understand. Forces he had reason to fear.

Shen, though, smiled and asked, "Is it far?" Leeka assured her that it wasn't, although they should travel slowly and, with patience.

And that was what they did. They trudged farther south, through a featureless landscape, no motion upon it save the rippling dance of heat, no living creatures save their group of five. With Leeka's nod of assent, they sat out the hottest hours of the day huddled beneath small geometries of shade cast by sheets draped over thin stakes they drove into the ground. Leeka himself stood at a slight distance, hooded and so still that Kelis sometimes felt the old general had slipped out of this world and left a scarecrow in his place.

The four sipped their water sparingly, all of them aware of how little they had and how devoid of moisture the landscape was. They could not even find the tubers or cacti that years of training had taught them existed in even the deepest desert. Kelis felt himself going dry from the inside out. His flesh became a strange leather that shrank to wrap his muscles and tendons and thinning blood vessels. He sometimes pretended to drink from the waterskin, to spare the precious liquid for Shen. Though they never said anything about it, he suspected Benabe and Naamen were doing the same.

Leeka never drank. He did not sleep. He never showed fatigue or seemed to feel the heat.

As the sun slanted westward each evening, they rose and, with a few terse words of encouragement from Leeka, began their trek again. Shen walked beside the hooded man often. She was the only one who seemed at ease with him and also unaffected by fatigue or thirst. By the way he inclined his head toward her, and the way she tugged on his arm and looked up at him, one would have thought they were conversing-an uncle out with a favorite niece, perhaps.

But, as far as Kelis could ascertain, very few words passed between them. On several occasions when they seemed in animated discourse he crept up behind them, close enough to make out the intricate pattern of braids tight against Shen's skull, close enough to hear the clicking of the beads fastened to the ends of them. But that and the scuffing of their feet and their slow breathing of the always hot air and Leeka swallowing were the only sounds he ever heard.

"He is insane," Benabe said one evening, "and he is teaching my daughter the trick of it. I do not like that man." She had made this clear from the first sighting of the hooded man standing alone in a desert expanse. During the passing days, she had not tired of reminding Kelis of her opinion. Several times she proposed that they break from Leeka and turn north or toward the coast to the east. They could return later, she said, with the help of others. Her lips were cracked, her skin dusty, her features gaunt. She had to speak slowly, between careful breaths, but she was no less the fiery, protective mother.

"You think a man who stands in the desert by himself is sane?" she asked. "You think he should lead us anywhere? He's lost, and we're following him. What's that make us? I'll tell you-bigger fools."

"Shen says that-"

"Shen is a child! She may be something more as well, but she is a young girl first. She dreams. She trembles and hears voices."

"Before, you said that-"

"I know what I said. But what did I know? Sitting in a mansion in Bocoum…" She shook the thought of it away. She was silent a moment, and then said, "I want to say that I will die if he harms her. But when people say that, they don't really mean it. But I am simply stating the truth: I will die." She jabbed him with an elbow. "You will too. I'll see to it before I go."

Though not as constant as Benabe, it was obvious Naamen, too, had his doubts. He approached Kelis after she drifted away. He walked silently beside him for some time, and then said, "After today we will have no water."

"I know," Kelis said.

"So you also know that we are walking dead. Benabe is right: we should not have come."

"Do not let a coward wear your skin," Kelis answered, all the more harshly because he was wrestling with the same thoughts. "When you are called to a quest, you go. You trust. We must trust Leeka."

In an answer of sorts, Naamen had exhaled and took in the desolation around them. What more need he say when the entire curve of the world was nothing but sand cracked by the sun, so parched that the ground looked to have never known a drop of water?

Naamen said, "He may be a gatherer of the dead. He is taking us to-"

"Have faith! In Shen, if not in Leeka. She is the only one among us who matters. Aliver's daughter, remember? He leads us through her."

"I never knew the prince."

"Know his daughter, then, and feel privileged."

Kelis did not waste any more breath trying to convince him. Naamen and Benabe could base their thoughts only on the world they knew and the things they had seen. Neither had seen the Santoth. Kelis had. Neither had ever seen Leeka before. Kelis had, and because of it, he was sure that they had no choice but to follow him. Kelis did not truly feel the certainty he tried to project, yet what choice had he but to face with dignity whatever came?

They did not walk as late into the night as usual. They made camp on a plain dotted with oblong boulders, like slim eggs balanced upright, each taller than a man. Kelis had not seen the boulders until they were among them-strange, for his eyes had been searching for anything to break the monotony. But there they were. The group stood within a cluster of them, the others showing unease behind their fatigue.

Leeka kept moving. He scooped out a bowl shape in the sand and sparked a strange blue fire into it. He had not poured any substance into the bowl. Nor had he struck flint and tinder. Nevertheless, a flame roiled around the depression like a liquid, brightening to a greenish glow, then settling to a turquoise illumination that touched all the watching faces and made the world behind them fade.

With the fire burning but nothing being consumed, Leeka looked at the group. He bade them sit. Once they had, he said, "Touch the fire. It will not burn you."

"Touch it?" Naamen asked.

"Yes." Leeka demonstrated, drawing back a sleeve and pushing his outstretched hand into the substance. It rippled at his touch, licked up his forearm. He showed no discomfort, and when he withdrew his hand it was unharmed.

"Why?" Naamen asked. "Why should we touch it?"

"You should do as your friend suggests. Trust."

Naamen glanced at Kelis, at Shen and Benabe. For a moment he looked like a child caught out by an elder, but then he pressed his lips together and looked at the liquid flame. He shot his fingers into it quickly, straight and close together, then drew them back, stared at them, and then eased them in again. Astonishment loosened his features. "It's not hot," he said. "It's… like cool water."

"Like water," Leeka said, "it will refresh you. Touch and drink of it. It will sustain you until you return to your lands."

Just like that, Kelis's thirst-which had faded to so deep within him that he was no longer aware of it-returned. Nothing had ever seemed more enticing than that fiery liquid. His hand scooped into it and came up dripping flame. Naamen was right. It was cool to the touch. He brought his hand to his lips. It was delicious and like liquid life as it slid down his throat. He felt it reach the center of him and begin to slip out as if into the veins of his body. Just one handful, then he sat back on his haunches, head tilted to the sky, eyes closed, completely filled. For a time he forgot everything, understanding vaguely that the others had done the same.

"The Santoth are here," Leeka said. "They thank you for bringing the heir to them. She is loved. They will answer your questions now."

Remembering the sorcerers as he had seen them on the plains that day, Kelis opened his eyes and looked around. The five of them were alone. "They will?"

"My teachers will speak through me, yes."

"Now you'll answer our questions?" Benabe asked. The euphoria of having drunk the flame had filled her features, but her voice still had its edge. "Now that we walked through the desert with you for three days-now we can ask you questions?"

"Mother," Shen said.

Leeka said, "Perhaps I should begin with what they think you should know. You should know that the Santoth are protecting you. They have been for some time already. They feel your fear and they understand, but you are safe here. When you leave, you will find your way safely back to the world of people. They promise you that."

"What do they want with my daughter?"

"They want her to be safe."

"Safe from what?"

Leeka was silent a moment, his eyes focused somewhere else. Eventually he said, "They wish me to explain. Shen knows these things. She and I have discussed them. Time that you know as well, mother of Shen. Understand without doubt that the Santoth have been in communion with the girl her entire life. We know you know this, and yet we feel the doubt in you. Don't doubt."

Benabe sat with her daughter at her side. The mother's face wore an expression like hurt, as if the man had touched an old wound. Shen must have seen it, for she took Benabe's hand and rubbed it.

"For many generations of the living world the Santoth knew no hope. They suffered their banishment, undying. They knew much of what transpired in the world, but they were not part of it. They remembered so much, and yet their grasp of the Giver's tongue slipped from them. It eroded, grew tainted. It became a dreadful thing even to them. You cannot understand how they suffered."

"You do?" Naamen asked.

"They have let me experience it with them," Leeka answered. "It is a gift to me, but I would not wish this knowledge on you. But then Aliver came to them. As you did, but he came unbidden. He stirred hope in them again. He reminded them that their banishment could be lifted. He could have done it, being a firstborn of a generation of Tinhadin's line. There had been others, of course, many others. But none of them had sought the Santoth. None of them came so close to releasing the Santoth to do good in the world again. Aliver said he would. That's why his death tormented the Santoth. They journeyed to find him, and they did; and in the disappointment following, they let themselves release their rage." Here he looked at Kelis. "But you know that. You were there."

Kelis looked down. He rubbed the knuckles of one hand with the fingers of the other. He did not wish the others to see the horror of that day on his face, but he was sure it would be there for all to see. Why, they might ask, had he brought them here to those who had unleashed abominations on the world? He wouldn't be able to answer.

"My teachers feared that their exile would continue long and long. They feared that, but when they listened and waited, they realized Aliver was not completely gone. He lived on in the one we call Shen. The bond they had with Aliver continued with her. That is why they have been able to speak with her all her life, even from when she was in the womb."

Benabe did not look at Shen this time, but again the girl rubbed her mother's hand, comforting. There was apology in the motion, and yet her young face was eager, waiting for Leeka's words.

"You asked what the Santoth wish of Shen," Leeka said. "They wish only what she wants to give, only what her father had tried to give. Only she can call them back to the world. Not the queen. Not the queen's child. Only the firstborn of a generation of Tinhadin's line. Aliver was such a son. Shen is such a daughter, and she has agreed."

This caused Benabe to break her silence. "I don't know what you think she agreed to, but I have agreed to nothing. I'm her mother."

"She told you of the stones," Leeka said, "for years she told you of them."

Benabe did not deny it. "Shen is a child. She knows nothing about-"

Leeka raised his hand. "She knows a great deal. Mother, without insult, understand that you are the one who knows nothing about these things."

For a moment Kelis thought Benabe was going to hit the old soldier. Like any Talayan tribal girl, she had been trained in fisting, a martial art that, ironically, used elbows and knees more than fists. She could have driven his nose into his skull before his instincts pulled his head back.

If Leeka felt threatened, he gave no sign. "A great conflict is coming, war on a scale never seen before."

"War with who?" Benabe snapped. "The Mein were thoroughly beaten. Aushenia wishes Acacia no harm. Talayans have their own issues, too. There is no one to war with. The queen grips the world in her fist!"

"Her fist is not that large," Leeka answered. "The Santoth can see farther than you or I. They see a coming war on a scale never seen before, against a new enemy. Preparations have already begun."

The glow from the fire bowl was stronger now. By its light Kelis saw the faces of his companions as they absorbed that news, weighed it. But that was not all he saw. Behind them hulked the oblong shadows of the stones. He glanced over his shoulder. Surely, they had not been that near before. He began to comment on it, but found the words stuck on his tongue.

"The Santoth," Leeka continued, "would aid the Known World in the struggle to come, if the queen would share The Song of Elenet with them. She has it. My teachers know that. They feel it every time she reads from it, every time she sings. They could explain it to her better than she can learn it on her own. They could help her, and help all the people of the Known World."

Benabe was on her knees now, leaning toward Leeka, in an even better position to strike. "Tinhadin, who was the greatest of the Santoth, came to fear sorcery and drove it from the world. Why should we want it back? Forgive my asking, but who does that serve other than them?"

Kelis's eyes flicked between her and the stones. They crowded so near now that he imagined he could reach back and touch the rock behind him. Naamen saw them also. His mouth opened and remained that way.

"Is it a good thing to survive the coming slaughter?" Leeka asked. "Without the Santoth, you won't. Without the Santoth, the Known World will learn chaos of a kind it's never experienced before. Without the Santoth, Corinn Akaran will not learn the dangers of her sorcery. We know that she does not understand fundamental things. God talk does not create things anew. The Giver could, but when humans sing, we can only steal, rearrange, and often corrupt. There is always a consequence. Alone, the queen will not be able to see the consequences until it is too late. She needs the Santoth much more than she knows."

"So you wish us to believe," Benabe said. "You still haven't explained what role my daughter plays in this."

"She will stay here, with us," Leeka said. "We will hide her and protect her and commune with her and ready her for-"

"No." Benabe said the word with firm matter-of-factness. "No, I will not allow that."

"The decision is not yours to make. It's Shen's. She has made it already."

"Mother?" Shen asked softly. Like Naamen, her attention had drifted out past the ring of people to the stones surrounding them. She cocked her head slightly, listening to something beyond the argument about her fate.

Benabe ignored her. "I will stay with her, then," she said.

Leeka's eyes might have softened as he answered her-might have, Kelis was not sure. "That is not possible."

"It must be. I will not hand her over to you, no matter what she says."

"Mother," Shen said.

"If you wish to help," Leeka said, glancing up to include Kelis as well, "take the Santoth's message to Queen Corinn. Make her to know that the Santoth must have the book. They will have it, whether she consents to it or not."

Shen stood up. "Mother, the stones have come. They are speaking. They want to-"

She got no further. Her head snapped back. Her teeth gnashed at the air and her arms flew out. She looked like she had been pierced in the chest by something that wanted to lift her into the air. Benabe leaped to her feet and reached to catch her daughter, but the stone behind her suddenly moved. It turned into a cloud of sand, a moving pillar that had something like a human form at its center. It sped past Benabe and surged around Shen's trembling body and caught her as she began to fall backward. Benabe screamed. The other stones surged in on the group, spinning together and roaring like an angry wind.

"They mean no harm," Leeka shouted over the noise. "They will protect her from all harm until the time is right."

Benabe's voice rose louder still. "Grab her!"

Kelis tried, but the moment he stepped toward the girl, he lost sight of her. The swirling sand pressed against him. He could barely move, no matter how he tried to kick or lean or twist his way through it. A few times he saw Shen-her face, her legs, her supine form-revealed in quick glimpses, never in the same place twice.

Leeka said, "And if the time is right, she will let them free. She will lead them back into the world. If what we fear does come…"

As quickly as it began, it ended. The pressure holding Kelis in place vanished. He crashed to the ground, bumping against Naamen, who had also fallen. Silence. Stillness. The fire was out. Kelis blinked quickly. Soon he could see the stars and low moon outlining the people around him. He rose, counting the figures, scanning the featureless plain around them. He saw Benabe, Naamen, but no one else.

"They're gone," Naamen said.

In answer, Benabe let loose an ancient-sounding wail, long held, unending. Her daughter was taken.