She always did love a good practical joke.
What the witnesses saw seemed to be the goddess in her most terrible aspect. She was naked except for a girdle of dried penises and a necklace of babies’ skulls. Her skin was a polished mahogany black. She was hairless everywhere. She had vampire fangs and an extra pair of arms. She seemed about ten feet tall. What she did not seem was happy. People stayed out of her way.
She was not alone. In her wake came an equally naked woman as white as Soulcatcher was dark. She was five and a half feet tall. Even covered with cuts and bruises and dirt, she was attractive. Her face was empty of all expression but her eyes burned with patient hatred. She wore only one item of ornamentation, a shoulder harness to which a cable ten feet long had been attached. That cable connected her to the rusty iron cage floating in the air behind her. The cage enclosed a skinny old man who had suffered several severe injuries, including a broken leg and some bad burns. The girl was compelled to tow the cage. She never spoke, even when the monster encouraged her with a switch. Possibly she had lost the faculty.
Narayan Singh had been the unfortunate who triggered Goblin’s booby trap, not its beloved intended.
The Deceiver shared the cage with a large bound book. He was too weak to keep it closed. Wind toyed with its pages. Once in a while the breeze showed its vicious side and yanked a page away from the book’s tired binding.
Sometimes delirious, Narayan thought he was in the hands of his goddess, either being punished for some forgotten transgression or transported to Paradise. And perhaps he was right. It did not occur to Soulcatcher to wonder what use she had for him alive. Not that she was taking any special trouble to keep him that way. Nor did the Daughter of Night seem particularly concerned about his fate.
74
I managed to overtake Tobo before he sped through the crossroads’ circle. “We’re stopping here,” I told him, hanging onto his shoulder.
He looked at me like he was trying to remember who I was.
“Back up to the circle.”
“All right. You don’t have to be so pushy.”
“Good. The real you is back. Yes. I do. No one else seems to be able to restrain you.” As we stepped into the circle, I told him, “There should be a... yes. Right here.” There was a hole in the roadway surface, four inches deep and as big around as my wrist. “Put the handle of the pickax in that.”
“Why?”
“If the shadows can get inside the protected areas, that’s the direction they’ll come from. Come on. Do it. We’ve got a ton of work to do if we’re going to set up a safe camp.” There were too many of us to get everyone inside the circle. That meant some would have to overnight on the road, not a practice encouraged by Murgen.
I wanted only the calmest personalities back there. Murgen guaranteed that every night on the plain would be some kind of adventure.
Suvrin found me trying to get Iqbal and his family moved toward the heart of the circle. The animals were hobbled there. And I had a feeling that the plain really did not like being trampled upon by things with such hard feet. “What is it, Suvrin?”
“Master Santaraksita would like to see you at your earliest convenience.” He grinned like he was having a wonderful time.
“Suvrin, have you been getting into the ganja or something?”
“I’m just happy. I missed the Protector’s state visit. Therefore I’m all right until sometime that’s still far off yet. I’m on the greatest adventure of my life, going places no one of my generation would have thought possible even a few weeks ago. It won’t last. It just plain won’t last. The way my luck runs. But I’m for damned sure having fun now. Except my feet hurt.”
“Welcome to the Black Company. Get used to it. Bunions should be our seal, not a fire breathing skull. Did anyone learn anything useful today?”
“My guess would be that Master Santaraksita might have come up with something. Else why would he bother to send me to find you?”
“You got bold and sarky fast once you got up here.”
“I’ve always thought I’m more likable when I’m not afraid.”
I glanced around. I wondered if stupid ought not to be in there somewhere, too. “Show me where the old boy is.”
Suvrin had the chatters. Bad, for him. “He’s a wonder, isn’t he?”
“Santaraksita? I don’t know about that. He’s something. Keep an eye out that you don’t accidentally find his hand fishing around in your pants.”
Suvrin had made camp for himself and the older men right at the edge of the circle, on its eastern side. Santaraksita had to have picked the spot. It was directly opposite the nearest standing stone. The librarian was seated Gunni-style, crosslegged, as near the edge as he dared get, staring at the pillar. “Is that you, Dorabee? Come sit with me.”
I overcame a burst of impatience, settled. I was out of shape for that. The Company continued its northern habits — using chairs and stools and whatnot — even though we now had only two Old Crew souls left. Such is inertia. “What are we looking for, Master?” It was obvious he was watching the standing stone.
“Let’s see if you’re as bright as I believe you are.”
There was a challenge I could not ignore. I stared at the column and waited for truth to declare itself.
A group of the characters on the pillar brightened momentarily. That had nothing to do with the light of the setting sun, which had begun creeping in under the edge of the clouds. That was painting everything bloody. After a while I told Santaraksita, “It seems to be illuminating groups of characters according to some pattern.”
“Mainly in reading order, I think.”
“Down? And to the left?”
“Reading downward in columns isn’t uncommon in the temple literature of antiquity. Some inks dried quite slowly. If you wrote in horizontal lines, you sometimes smeared your earlier work. Writing downward in columns right to left suggests to me left-handedness. Possibly those who placed the stellae were mostly left-handed.”
It struck me that writing whatever way was convenient for you personally could lead to a lot of confusion. I said so.
“Absolutely, Dorabee. Deciphering classical writing is always a challenge. Particularly if the ancient copyists had time on their hands and were inclined to play pranks. I’ve seen manuscripts put together so that they could be read both horizontally and vertically and each way tells a different story. Definitely the work of someone who had no worries about his next meal. Today’s formal rules have been around for only a few generations. They were agreed upon simply so we could read one another’s work. And they still haven’t penetrated the lay population to any depth.”
Most of that I knew already. But he needed his moments of pedantry to feel complete. They cost me nothing. “And what do we have here?”
“I’m not sure. My eyes aren’t sharp enough to pick up everything. But the characters on the stone closely resemble those in your oldest book and I’ve been able to discern a few simple words.” He showed me what he had written down. It was not enough to make sense of anything.
“Mostly I think we’re looking at names. Possibly arranged in a holy scripture sort of way. Maybe a roll-call-of-the-ancestors kind of thing.”
“It is immortality of a sort.”
“Perhaps. Certainly you can find similarly conceived monuments in almost every older city. Iron was a popular material for those who considered themselves truly rich and historically significant. Generally, though, they were erected to celebrate individuals, notably kings and conquerers, who wanted following generations to know all about them.”
“And every one of those I’ve ever seen was a complete puzzle to the people living around it now. Thus, a feeble immortality of a sort.”
“And there’s the point. We’ll all achieve our immortality in the next world, however we may conceive that, but we all want to be remembered in this one. I suppose so that when the newly dead arrive in heaven, they’ll already know who we are. And, yes, even tho
ugh I am a devout, practicing Gunni, I’m very cynical about what humanity brings to the religious experience.”
“I’m always intrigued by your thinking, Master Santaraksita, but in today’s circumstances I just don’t have time to sit around musing on humanity’s innumerable foibles. Nor even those of God. Or the gods, if you prefer.”
Santaraksita chuckled. “Do you find it amusing to see our roles thus reversed?” A few months in the real world had done wonders for his attitude. He accepted his situation and tried to learn from it. I considered accusing him of being a Bhodi fellow traveler.
“I fear I’m much less of a thinker than you like to believe, Master. I’ve never had time for it. I’m probably really more of a parrot than anything.”
“And I suspect that surviving in your trade eventually leaves everyone more philosophical than you want to admit, Dorabee.”
“Or more brutal. None of these men were ever sterling subjects.”
Santaraksita shrugged. “You remain a wonder, whether or not you wish to be one.” He made a gesture to indicate the standing stone. “Well, there you have it. It may say something. Or it may just be remembering the otherwise unheralded whose ashes nourished weeds. Or it may even be trying to communicate, since some of the characters seem to have changed.” His tone became one of intense interest as he completed his last sentence. “Dorabee, the inscription doesn’t remain constant. I must have a closer look at one of those stellae.”
“Don’t even think about it. You’d probably be dead before you got to it. And would get the rest of us dead, too.”
He pouted.
“This’s the dangerous part of the adventure,” I told him. “This’s the part that leaves us no room for innovation or deviation or expressing our personalities. You’ve seen Sindawe. No better or stronger man ever lived. That was nothing he deserved. Whenever you feel creative, you just go look on that travois. Then take another look. Gah! It smells like the inside of a stable here already. A little breeze wouldn’t hurt.” As long as it blew away from me.
The animals were all crowded together and surrounded so they could not do something stupid like wander out of the protective circle. And herbivores tend to generate vast quantities of by-product.
“All right. All right. I don’t make a habit of doing what’s stupid, Dorabee.” He grinned.
“Really? What about how you got here?”
“Maybe it’s a hobby.” He could laugh at himself. “There’s stupid and stupid. None of those boulders is going to make my pebble turn into a standing stone.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult. Just keep an eye on the rock and let me know if it says anything interesting.” It occurred to me to wonder if these pillars were related to the pillars the Company had found in the place called the Plain of Fear, long before my time. Those stones had even walked and talked — unless the Captain exaggerated even worse than I thought. “Whoa! Look there. Right along the edge of the road. That’s a shadow, being sneaky. It’s already dark enough for them to start moving around.”
It was time I started moving around, making sure everyone remained calm. The shadows could not reach us if no one did anything stupid. But they might try to provoke a panic, the way hunters will try to scare up game.
75
Despite the numbers and the animals and my own pessimism, nothing went wrong. Goblin and I made repeated rounds of the circle and the tailback running north up the protected road. We found everyone in a mood to be cooperative. I suppose that had something to do with the shadows clinging to the surface of our invisible protection and oozing around like evil leeches. Nothing focuses the attention like the proximity of a bad death.
“There are other ways in and out of this circle besides the one we came in and the one we’re going to use tomorrow,” I told Goblin. “How come we can’t see them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s magic. Maybe you ought to ask One-Eye.”
“Why him?”
“You’ve been around long enough that you should’ve discovered the truth. He knows everything. Just ask. He’ll tell you.” Evidently he was less worried about his friend. He was back to picking on One-Eye.
“You know, you’re right. I haven’t had much chance to talk to him but I did notice that he’s going all-out to be a pain. Why don’t we go wake him up, tell him he’s in charge, and get ourselves some shut-eye?” Which is what we did, with slight modifications, after we made sure there was a watch rotation for every potential entry into the circle, whether it could be seen or not. With help from Gota and Uncle Doj, One-Eye was still capable of contributing a little something to his own protection. Not that he was willing to admit that.
I believe Goblin went off and whispered something to Tobo, too, after we went our respective ways.
I had just gotten comfortable on my nice rock bed when Sahra invited herself over for a chat. I really was tired and uncharitable. When I sensed her presence, I just wanted her to go away. And she did not stay long.
She said, “Murgen wanted to talk to you but I told him you were exhausted and needed to rest. He wanted me to warn you that your dreams may be particularly vivid and probably confusing. He said just don’t go anywhere and don’t panic. I have to go tell Goblin and One-Eye and Uncle and some others and have them spread the word to everyone else. Rest easy.” She patted my hand, letting me know we were still friends. I grunted and closed my eyes.
Murgen was right. Night on the glittering plain was another adventure entirely. The landmarks were similar but seemed to be ghosts of their daytime selves. And the sky was not to be trusted.
The plain itself was still all shades of grey but now with some sort of implied illumination that left all the angles and edges clearly defined. Once when I glanced upward I saw a full moon and the sky crowded with stars, then only moments later, the overcast was back and there was nothing to be seen at all. The characters inscribed on the standing stones all seemed busy, which was not something Murgen had noted during his own visit. I watched for a moment, recognizing individual characters but no words. Nevertheless, I had an epiphany I would have to pass on to Master Santaraksita in the morning. The inscriptions on the pillars did begin at the upper right and read downward. For the first column. The second column read from the bottom upward. Then the third read back down. And so on.
I became more interested in the things moving amongst the pillars, though. There were some big shadows out there, things with a presence potent enough to terrify and scatter the little shadows radiating hunger as they crawled over the surface of our protection. The big ones would not come closer. They had about them an air of infinite, wicked patience that left me convinced they would be out there waiting if it took a thousand years for one of us to screw up and open a gap in our protection.
In dream, all roads leading into the circle were equally well-defined. Each was a glimmering ruler stroke running off to glowing domes in the distance. Of all those roads and domes, though, only those on our north-south trace seemed to be fully alive. Either the road knew what we wanted to do or it knew what it wanted us to do.
In an instant I was amazed, bewildered, terrified, exultant, having realized that in order to see what I was seeing, I would have to be at least a dozen feet above my normal height of eye. Which meant that I had to go outside my skin, the way Murgen did, and while I had wished for the ability a thousand times and the view was engrossing, the risks were none I cared to face when the opportunity was real. I sped a prayer heavenward. God needs to be reminded. I was totally, ecstatically, happy being Sleepy, without one shred of mystical talent. Really. If it was necessary that somebody in my gang do this sort of thing, Goblin or One-Eye or Uncle Doj or almost anyone else could have the magic, sparing only Tobo, despite him being the prophesied future of the Company. Tobo was still a little too short on self-discipline to be handed any more capabilities.
The presence of the small shadows was kind of like that of a flock of pigeons. They were not silent on that gh
ost-world level but they did not try to communicate unless with one another. It took me only moments to shut them out.
The skies above were more troublesome. Each time I lifted my gaze I saw that some dramatic change had occurred. Sometimes there was an impenetrable overcast, sometimes a wild starfield and a full moon. Once there were fewer stars and an extra moon. Once a distinct constellation hung right over the road south. It conformed exactly to Murgen’s description of a constellation called the Noose. Hitherto I had always suspected the Noose to have been a fabrication on Mother Gota’s part.
Then, just beyond the golden pickax, I spied a strapping trio of the uglies Murgen had reported meeting in that very spot his first night on the glittering plain. Were they yakshas? Rakshasas? I tried to shoehorn them into Gunni or even Kina’s mythology but just could not make them fit. There would be plenty of room, though, I did not doubt. The Gunni are more flexible in matters of doctrine than are we Vehdna. We are taught that intolerance is our gift of faith. Gunni flexibility is just one more reason they will all suffer the eternal fires. The idolaters.
God is Great. God is Merciful. In Forgiveness He is Like the Earth. But He can become a tad mean-spirited with unbelievers.
I tried desperately to recall Murgen’s report of his encounter with these dream creatures. Nothing came forward despite the fact that I had been the one who had written it all down. I could not for certain recall if his night visitors had been identical to these. These were humanoid and human-size but definitely lacking human features. Possibly they wore masks in the guise of beasts. Judging from their frenetic gestures, they wanted me to follow them somewhere. I seemed to recall something similar having happened during Murgen’s episode. He had refused. So did I, although I did drift toward them and did attempt to engage them in conversation.
I did not, of course, have a knack for generating sound without a body or tools. And they did not speak any language I knew, so the whole business was an exercise in futility.