The prayer went on for some minutes as the musical voice filled the hall. Shan was no longer aware of the vast crowd around him. All he heard was the song of Aranepa. There was no doubt he had conjured a different atmosphere. What had been tawdry only moments before was now sacrosanct and mysterious. The boy stopped speaking for a moment and raised his arms, while the officiating priest dropped to his knees, his arms spread out upon the floor in front of him.
‘The age of the dragons approaches,’ Aranepa said in a clear common Hamagaran tongue. ‘All that was sundered will unite in the cauldron of the heart. The air will come to the water and the fire will make steam within it. Air dries water, but water quenches fire. Earth suffocates air, yet can be burned by the flames. If the elements are not in accord, then the world weeps. But one will come who is the avatar of Venotishi, who controls the elements. Look for his sign, in the skies, in the oceans, in the spoor of the beasts, in the smoke of the hearth fire. For he must come, this man of silence, who will govern the elements.’
Shan’s flesh went cold. It seemed as if the boy was speaking directly to him and his companions, but surely this could not be so. Perhaps every nation on earth desired a deliverer to rid them of chaos, disharmony and fear. It was not surprising that the Hamagarids desired the same as he did. He glanced at Taropat, who returned his gaze with a grimace, as if to indicate he shared the same uncertainty.
Then Ellony said, ‘He knows us. He knows we’re here.’
There was silence now, as everyone present absorbed the meaning of Aranepa’s words. Perhaps each person perceived a personal message within them. Then, vanas came forward to conduct people to the dais. Shan watched the procession of oldsters, lurching lame, blind people, young children, pregnant mothers, as well as ordinary men and women, go one by one to kneel before the High Vana. Aranepa said nothing, and his face could not be seen. Only his hands, somehow grave in the precision of their movements, rested briefly upon each bowed head. The devotees were not allowed to speak, even to thank the boy, but merely ducked their heads in gratitude and went back to their place. But Shan would never forget their faces. As each person turned away from Aranepa, they were radiant with pure joy, compassion and understanding. These qualities shone from them like a magical light. It brought tears to his eyes.
It took over an hour before the devotees at the back of the hall started to make their way to the dais. To Shan, the whole room had become charged with ecstasy. He was no longer cynical. He wanted to feel the touch of those hands himself, discover whether it would affect him in the same way.
When it came to their turn, Taropat indicated that Ellony should go with the priest first. Children were allowed to take an adult with them, so Shan stood up hurriedly before Taropat took the opportunity. The crowds parted as he and the girl followed the vana to the front of the hall.
Aranepa was a statue robed in veils, motionless, somehow inhuman. They knelt before him and Shan could hear the swish of the fans as the vanas wafted them through the air. He bowed his head and from the corner of his eye saw the boy reach out to touch Ellony’s dark head. After a moment, the High Vana withdrew his hands quickly and turned in his seat to the officiating priest who stood next to him. This action conjured a ripple of concerned muttering from the crowd. The priest leaned down to the boy, listened to words Shan could not hear. Then he spoke quietly in Shan’s ear. ‘He asks, where is the other one?’
Shan stared at the priest dumbly for a moment, then pointed back up the hall. ‘He will come next,’ he said.
‘No,’ said the vana, ‘not a man, a woman. Aranepa asks where the woman is.’
‘Mama,’ Ellony breathed.
‘Does he mean Varencienne?’ Shan whispered to the priest. ‘Varencienne Palindrake?’
The vana murmured in the boy’s ear, who said something in return.
‘The sea dragon woman,’ the vana said to Shan. ‘She is the one.’
‘She is at an inn,’ Shan said, ‘nearby. Must I fetch her?’
The vana looked into his eyes, his expression as inscrutable as the face of the mountains. ‘You must come to the Gate of the Sky, to the east of the temple, in two hours’ time,’ he said. ‘Aranepa has blessed you. He would speak with your party in private.’
‘All of us?’ Shan asked sharply.
‘Your party,’ said the vana. ‘This is what is asked of you. Depart at once.’
Shan took Ellony’s hand, bowed his head in respect, and rose to his feet. Behind him, he found a sea of curious faces, all of whom must be wondering what the whispered conversation had been about. Shan and Ellony were outsiders, foreigners. Why should they be singled out for privilege? A host of eyes watched them as they picked their way back to the door. This was far more than they could have hoped for. It proved to Shan that their journey had not been in vain.
Chapter Twenty-One: A Hamagarid Rite
Varencienne spent the day investigating the city, her spirits considerably higher than the night before. She replayed constantly in her mind the events at the mountain top, the brief closeness she’d shared with Taropat. In fact, she found it difficult to think of him as Taropat now, convinced that the man who’d shown himself to her the previous evening was really Khaster Leckery, the core of him that remained. Buoyant, she smiled at stall-holders in the market and got into conversation with a family of farmers at an inn where she paused to take lunch. At breakfast, Lady Sikim had told her of a broker where she might exchange her remaining trinkets for coin. The Lady accompanied her to the exchange office, saying she was quite happy to do the negotiating for her new friend, and Varencienne believed she’d received a very good rate because of Sikim’s involvement. Her purse was comfortingly heavy at her belt. After lunch, she visited the city gardens and spent a carefree hour feeding some exotic birds with a group of children she met. The birds were similar to peacocks with trailing tails of crimson and gold. Tame as dogs, they came to take seed from her hand and eyed her sideways with uncanny wisdom.
She returned to ‘Wind, Rain, Wind’ in the late afternoon, having been invited to dinner with the ladies Sikim and Patar and their families. Walking through streets that had begun to empty for the night, she took pride in having spent the day alone in a strange city. She had met people, talked to them in their own language, made friends. She had done it by herself. The old Varencienne would never have been able to do that. She’d have been like a fish drowning in air, ignorant of what to do and how to behave. Now, she would spend an evening in Hamagarid company and, being more alert and joyful than when she’d met the ladies, derive more pleasure from their company and show them she could be good company too. Therefore, she could not help feeling slightly disappointed when she went into her room and found Taropat, Shan and Ellony waiting for her. Taropat and Shan were sitting on one of the beds, while Ellony was sprawled on a mattress at their feet.
‘Where have you been?’ Taropat demanded. There was no hint of Khaster in his voice.
‘I thought you were spending the day at the temple,’ Varencienne answered, taking off her coat. Shan and Taropat shared a conspiratorial glance. The atmosphere in the room was tense. She guessed they’d been speaking about her just before she entered.
‘Something quite amazing happened,’ Shan said. ‘Aranepa has asked to meet you.’
‘Me? Are you sure?’
‘It’s true,’ Ellony said, propping herself up on her elbows. She told the story quickly before the men had the chance. ‘We must go back there now, Mama. It’s very important.’
‘I’m just about to have dinner with friends, though. I met a couple of Hamagarid women here and they’ve been very kind and helpful to me. I don’t want to appear rude by not turning up for the meal.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Taropat said. ‘If you let them know the reason, they’ll more than understand.’
‘You don’t want to go, do you?’ Shan said accusingly.
Varencienne shrugged. ‘The worship of individuals mak
es me uneasy,’ she said. ‘It all seems a bit false.’
‘But the boy’s asked for you!’ Taropat said. ‘Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘We’re foreigners, unusual,’ Varencienne replied. ‘It’s not unlikely Aranepa and the vanas have already heard about us and are curious, that’s all.’ She smoothed the new clothes Patar had given her.
Taropat looked her up and down. ‘Where did you get that fancy outfit?’ he asked severely. ‘I hope you haven’t spent the last of our funds.’
‘My funds, if you don’t mind!’ Varencienne spat. ‘In fact, these clothes were given to me by one of the women I told you about. They looked after me while you were off seeking enlightenment from the master.’
‘You should have come with us,’ Shan said.
Varencienne laughed coldly. ‘After what Ellie just told me about your day? I think not!’
‘It was worth it,’ Shan said. ‘I was just as sceptical as you are. Don’t you trust my word?’
Varencienne sighed heavily. ‘All right, I’ll come. Don’t look at me like that.’
‘Aranepa did appear to speak directly about our situation,’ Taropat said. ‘We might be reading things into his words that we want to find, but I think we have to go and find out for ourselves.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Varencienne said. ‘He could have been talking about Val.’
Taropat gave her a hard glance but said nothing.
‘Aranepa touched my head and filled me with light,’ Ellony said. ‘I didn’t imagine it. I think he has a lot of power.’
Varencienne looked into her daughter’s eyes and saw the pleading there. Ellony wanted her to soften, to share the adventure. ‘I know, sweetness. I do want to meet him. It’s just that I’ve had a good day wandering around by myself, and I was looking forward to this evening. But perhaps we can have dinner tomorrow with the Hamagarid ladies, then you can meet them too.’
‘We might not still be here by tomorrow,’ Taropat said. ‘It depends on what Aranepa says to us.’
‘I presume any decisions we make will be by consensus,’ Varencienne said.
‘You were the one anxious to get home a few weeks ago.’
‘And you were the one who forced me to come here. Accept there are unforeseen consequences to your actions. I might choose not to return to Caradore at all.’
‘But what about Rav and Papa?’ Ellony cried in alarm. ‘What about Everna and Pharry? We have to go home, Mama. They’ll be worried about us. We can always come back another time.’
‘I know,’ Varencienne said. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m afraid your uncle Taro is getting on my nerves and I over-reacted. I know we have to go back, but in some ways it would be nice to stay, wouldn’t it?’
‘Hamagara is part of us now,’ Ellony said. ‘We’ll never really leave, and we know the path, so we can find our way back.’
‘Wise words,’ said Taropat, ruffling Ellony’s hair.
She smiled up at him. ‘Don’t make Mama angry. She won’t do what you want otherwise.’
‘That is simple feminine behaviour,’ said Taropat. He looked up at Varencienne, grinning. ‘Are you ready to leave, princess?’
Varencienne went to Lady Patar’s room and told her what had happened. The woman hugged Varencienne tightly. ‘I knew there was something special about you,’ she said. ‘I hope you will tell me what occurs at your meeting.’
‘I will,’ Varencienne said. She hugged the woman in return. ‘Thank you, Lady Patar. You and Lady Sikim have done so much for me.’
‘A pleasure,’ replied the Hamagarid. ‘It is Venotishi’s will.’ She smiled wryly. ‘But we didn’t do that much!’
‘To a stranger, the smallest gesture of friendship means a great deal,’ Varencienne said, proud of the fluency of her words. She steepled her hands and bowed, and Patar did likewise.
Varencienne and her companions found their way to the Gate of the Sky on the east side of the temple. It was a magnificent carved arch, covered in representations of boiling clouds, which were painted in bright cerulean shades of blue. The heads of wind dragons could be seen poking whiskery snouts between the folds of the clouds. The vana who had been officiating at the honsha earlier was waiting for them near the gateway, in a room that overlooked a garden of drooping evergreens and ponds. The man bowed to the visitors. ‘I am Khanak,’ he said, ‘servant of Aranepa. He will meet with you in the garden.’
Without further explanation, the man led the way through a red doorway onto the soft turf beyond. In the twilight, white cranes, high-stepped through the pools, like girls clad in flouncy ball gowns. Moths fluttered dizzily across the lily pads. A pagoda-like summerhouse nestled among trees, its veranda hanging over the water of the largest pool. Here, by the light of lanterns, a small figure could be seen sitting in a high backed wicker chair.
Khanak crossed an ornamental bridge that led to the veranda, and the visitors followed. They found cushions had been set out on the floor at Aranepa’s feet for their comfort. Incense that smelled of flowers burned in a bowl beside them. The boy was still veiled, but once his guests were seated, he carefully revealed himself: a delicately handsome creature with serious eyes. He looked directly at Ellony and said, ‘Do you know me?’
‘Yes,’ Ellony replied gravely. ‘You are the one we met on the mountain.’
Varencienne recognised him now. The priest was he whom they had taken to be the boy’s guardian, divested of the cumbersome garments and the scarves that had all but obscured his face.
‘I knew, when I first saw you, that you were entrusted with a great responsibility,’ Aranepa said to them. He gazed directly at Varencienne. ‘You are she who is the avatar of Foy. You have come to this land, as others came before you, but where they sought to conquer, you seek to understand and to heal.’
‘I did not intend to come here,’ Varencienne said, feeling she should be honest. ‘In fact, I was brought against my will.’
Aranepa closed his eyes briefly, during which Varencienne felt that other, non-physical eyes, gazed upon her. ‘You come in rags, all of you,’ Aranepa said. ‘You come in rags of the soul: a broken company and a disillusioned priestess. Barefoot you came to the mountain and showed your innermost selves to it. Whether you know so or not, you come with good intention.’
‘Do you know of the empire beyond your boundaries?’ Taropat asked.
Aranepa inclined his head. ‘We know of it. We know too that even though it has ignored us for centuries, a new emperor has come to the throne who is in the cacophony of madness. He is driven by a single vision of fear, and will seek to impose his beliefs upon every corner of the world, in order to feel safe. His darkness would have found its way here.’
‘Would have?’ Taropat said carefully.
Again, Aranepa blinked slowly and inclined his head. ‘There are darker forces, those that threaten Paraga himself. Long has the Lord of the Sky hidden in the furthest peaks of Hamagara, fleeing the tumultuous desires of the Sea Dragon Queen. But the time has come for him to re-emerge, to clothe himself once more in his full glory. The emperor of fire cannot save himself, no matter how he tries, but what comes after may be worse, unless those with clear sight work in unity to prevent it.’
‘You spoke of a man of silence earlier on, one who would come to vanquish chaos,’ Taropat said. ‘We believe in a True King, a man who embodies all that is divine kingship, the link between the people and the land. Are these two the same?’
‘They are. But the True King must first wander the tunnels of the underworld and experience the noise of his own madness. Unless he knows the nature of what he opposes, has smelled its foul breath and clasped it to himself, he cannot overcome it.’
‘Do you know who he is, this man of silence?’ Shan asked.
‘Yes,’ Aranepa replied.
For a moment, no one spoke, but Varencienne knew in her heart what Aranepa would say. She was afraid of Tar
opat’s reaction.
‘The True King,’ said Aranepa, ‘is the lord of Caradore to the south, a son of the sea people. He has men of secret sorcery behind him, whom he cannot see. Their cunning moves the wheels of fate in their favour, for his power over all elements will bring them greater power. This the spirits have revealed to us. The Dragon Heir will hold the banner for the new aeon.’ He turned to Varencienne. ‘You and your kin, and their empires, are on the path of the Way of Light. It is the great stillness, the great chaos. It is the ultimate harmony born of the terrible conflict of the elements in their eternal becoming. Within this state, the silence can be born, where the cruel line of time which promises only death becomes like Paraga, a form of flux, a circle, wherein all things do not perish, but flow into birth and constant rebirth. All beings borne upon this ocean of silent becoming are on the Way of Light. It is not the long path, it is the short path, and that is the most perilous.’
Varencienne was overcome with emotion. These words, coming from the mouth of a young boy, were more real than any she’d heard before. She put her hands to her face, covered her nose and mouth with her fingers. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Aranepa beckoned her closer and she knelt before him. He placed his hands briefly on the crown of her head and a shiver of heat coursed down from his fingers through her spine. ‘You have seen it,’ Aranepa said. ‘Foy has shown you the image of empires rising and falling. The tension that both binds and repels them is the path to the Way of Light. You are here for a reason, for you are one of its most important avatars.’
Varencienne knelt with bowed head, her hands clasped in her lap. Light coursed through her, held her in its radiance. She wondered whether finally Taropat could feel what was right and true. Aranepa had never met the Dragon Lord, and was free of prejudice. If only Valraven could be here to hear these words and feel the truth of them.
In the silence, Taropat cleared his throat and then spoke guardedly, ‘There are others who believe Palindrake should be king,’ he said, ‘but you should know that the lord of Caradore isc damaged. Dark influences of the empire corrupted him. I question that he is the right choice.’ For Taropat, these were measured words.