‘You sound like Sinaclara,’ Shan said. ‘But in what way do we make gods like men?’
‘Katarina meant that if we attribute the obvious order we perceive in the world to the actions of a god, what we are really doing is attributing our own mental processes and reasoning to that god. She argued that gods, if they existed at all, could not possess any human attributes, otherwise they’d hardly be divine.’
‘Do you believe that?’
‘I think her argument was ridiculous,’ Taropat said. ‘Any priest or sage will tell you that. However, I do believe that the gods cannot exist without us. It is a symbiotic relationship.’
Shan was flooded with a warm feeling of tranquillity, which extended towards Taropat. He was himself again. This was how it should be, the close relationship between apprentice and master. The learning, the wonder of it.
‘This place represents wisdom, but also the yellow ray of divine kingship,’ Taropat said. ‘It is something we must be aware of if we are to succeed here.’
Tayven muscled in between them. ‘Why is that?’ he said. ‘Surely the Crown itself is more important than the king?’
Taropat moved away a short distance. ‘This site represents the ideal of when the Crown is manifest in the world. It can be regarded as the divine made physical. If we are to pull the Crown from the etheric realms into reality, then it is vital we succeed here above all other sites.’
Tayven made a scornful sound. ‘That may be so for you, but I can’t help thinking that the concept of divine kingship has been the scourge and misery of every empire that’s existed. We should be moving away from that, surely?’
Taropat’s face became a pinched mask. ‘If you knew anything of worth, you would realise that the divine kings who have failed to fulfil their potential have not undergone a quest of the soul such as this.’
Tayven nodded slowly. ‘Ah, so it becomes clear. You see yourself in that role, don’t you? You remember what Almorante once said to you about Caradore, how he’d give it to you. You want to be king, to be emperor! And for this, the rest of us are being dragged behind, starving and exhausted.’
Taropat stared at Tayven with an expression that bordered on the purest hatred. He said nothing.
‘Don’t be absurd, Tayven,’ Merlan said. ‘My brother has no desire to be king. Like the rest of us, he merely wants an end to Magravandian oppression.’
‘There’s quite a lot of oppression around here at the moment,’ Tayven snapped.
Taropat took a step towards him, and Tayven backed away. ‘If you remember, dear Tayven, it was not my idea to come on this quest at all. Cast your mind back. Recall. You came looking for me. You needed me.’
Tayven snorted in contempt, even though Taropat was right. ‘That may be so, but it doesn’t mean I have to condone the way you’re conducting this show. You haven’t let any of us have a say. If it doesn’t come from your balls, you don’t want to know, do you? You have to be in control. It’s that old fear, Khaster. Remember it. You’d never let me fuck you, would you? You can’t even let go of control in love.’
There was a stunned silence. Shan thought he would die of embarrassment. Tayven had gone too far. Taropat’s face was a red mask of indignation. Surely, Merlan would go for him? Merlan lifted an arm, but Taropat acted first. He leapt forward and seized Tayven by the hair. Shan was sure he could hear Tayven’s roots ripping as Taropat lifted him from the ground with inhuman strength. Tayven kicked out, uttering a cry of surprise and pain. Taropat thrust his face so close to Tayven’s, Shan thought he was going to take a bite out of it. ‘You grubby little whore!’ Taropat roared. ‘You think to question me? Your kind has done nothing but breed corruption in royalty. I should have let Bayard have his way with you that night in The Soak. We might all be better off now!’
‘Stop this,’ Shan yelled. ‘Stop it!’ He tried to wrench Taropat’s grip from Tayven’s hair. Taropat turned on him and snarled, no longer the wise and thoughtful mentor of a few moments before. Merlan stood uselessly to the side, as if dazed, his hand still half-raised.
‘Taropat, no,’ Shan managed to say calmly, although he was afraid of the inhuman rage before him. ‘This is not the way. Think of our quest. Please.’
Taropat stared at him for a few moments, then dropped Tayven to the ground. He walked away from them, his hands wound with long pale strands of hair.
Shan stood awkwardly over Tayven, who sat loose-limbed at his feet, his face in his hands. ‘Tayven,’ he said, glancing to Merlan for support and finding nothing but confusion. ‘He didn’t mean it. This is getting out of hand.’
Tayven said nothing. His shoulders shook. Sighing, Shan leaned down to pull Tayven to his feet.
Tayven wrenched himself away and turned savagely on his defender. ‘You stay out of this. I don’t need your pity. The truth is, you wanted Khaster to fuck you too, or maybe he already has.’
‘What?’ Shan was too shocked to remonstrate further.
‘You’re pathetic,’ Tayven snarled. ‘You’re living in a fantasy. Son of a nobleman, are you? I think not. I know what you are, Shan. Taropat told me how he found you.’
Shan stared at Tayven in horror.
‘Yes, it’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re just a peasant boy. Still, he trained you well. It doesn’t surprise me. Khaster wouldn’t want some rough little serf in his bed.’
‘How can you say these things?’ Shan said. ‘What kind of creature are you?’
‘I never lie about myself though, do I?’ Tayven said, sneering. ‘My blood is noble, and I warm the beds of princes. You can never have what’s mine.’
‘I don’t want it,’ Shan said.
‘You want noble blood, though, don’t you?’
‘For Madragore’s sake, stop it,’ said Merlan wearily. ‘Do you want to destroy this quest?’
Tayven got to his feet. ‘Like I destroyed your brother? Is that what you mean?’
Merlan rubbed his faced and rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, for the love of the flame! You’re so selfish and vain. You are not the centre of this, and it’s certainly not about sex. Is that all you think about? If so, why are you here? Just grow up.’
Before Shan could do anything to prevent it, Tayven flew at Merlan, who reeled backwards to the ground. Tayven fell upon him, his clawed hands gripping Merlan’s throat. He slammed Merlan’s head against the unyielding earth. Shan leapt forwards and hit Tayven in the face, so hard he had to let go of Merlan. Merlan scrabbled away, holding his throat, coughing. Tayven’s body went limp. He lay down, curled up, in the crushed grass. The only sound was that of panting breath. Shan felt dazed, as if this wasn’t really happening. ‘What are we doing?’ he cried. ‘This quest is not about any of us and what we want.’
He heard Taropat say softly, ‘ Oh, but it is, Shan, it is.’
Shan turned to question this, but there was no sign of Taropat. He’d vanished.
They waited in numb silence for hours for Taropat to return, but as dusk drew in Shan knew he would have to take control and suggested they make camp. Tayven and Merlan were both in a bad state. Merlan shivered uncontrollably, while Tayven continued to lie listlessly on the ground. Shan went off in search of food, despite Taropat’s directive they should not eat, and found some small, hard apples in a wild lakeside orchard. As he gathered them, he realised the others would never regard him in the same way again. He’d been revealed for what he was: a peasant. Shame stung his heart. Still, despite his humble origins, he at least was in control of himself. That should count for something.
Returning to his companions, he ordered them to eat, and perhaps the steel of the warrior was in his voice, for both Tayven and Merlan obeyed him. The scant nourishment seemed to revive them somewhat, and presently Merlan co-operated with Shan to build a fire at a campsite Shan had chosen in the shelter of an oak grove nearby. Shan found himself being short and defensive with Merlan, which eventually prompted the other to speak.
‘It doesn’t ma
tter what Tayven said about your origins. You are who you are, Shan. Look at you now. Without you, we’d be helpless. I can understand why you enacted that little deception in Akahana. How else could you have retained credibility at court? It must have been terrifying. Anyway, noble blood counts for nothing. Tayven has it, and he’s half the man you are.’
‘Thank you,’ Shan said.
Merlan smiled sadly. ‘It needed to be said.’
As they huddled around the chuckling flames, the energy for words expelled, an atmosphere of reproach, embarrassment and regret poisoned the air between them. Shan’s mind was reeling so strongly with fear and uncertainty, he was sure the fruits of his training had abandoned him. He had never seen Taropat that angry before. He had seen a man he had never suspected existed. Perhaps the old personality of Khaster had been evoked too heavily by the presence of his former lover. And yet both Merlan and Tayven had led Shan to believe that Khaster had been a mild and passive character. Shan regretted not having voiced his doubts and suspicions earlier. They might have avoided that sickening and needless confrontation. Still, Tayven had clearly been harbouring similar doubts, which perhaps meant Shan’s worries had some firm foundation. Was it possible that, through some secret liaison, Maycarpe and Taropat had set this whole quest up? But what was their shared agenda? Who did they want to be king? The same person? Shan’s head ached with these questions, but he no longer wanted to discuss them with the others. He had to believe that they would accomplish their aim, despite their differences. One thing was sure in Shan’s mind: it was not a good omen that they had lost a day. Perhaps that was not all they had lost.
The morning dawned with what seemed like inappropriately jubilant bird song and a moist breeze that promised rain. Shan, already awake and stiff with cold, watched Merlan and Tayven rouse from sleep. Merlan sat up and rubbed his face. He smiled tentatively at Tayven, who was probing his tender scalp with careful fingers. Tayven did not smile back, but neither did he react with anger. Shan thought they looked like kidnapped children, bewildered, empty of tears and resigned to their fate, hardly daring to hope that their parents would find and save them. During the night, Shan had slept fitfully, plagued by unsettling fragments of dreams. At one point, he had awoken to feel the strong presence of a bright and benevolent figure standing over him. He remembered being overwhelmed with warmth and certainty. A faint and distant sound, like the song of a beautiful siren, had pierced his senses. He had called out Sinaclara’s name, but the sensation had vanished. Shan tried to recall the sound. He was sure it had been a voice calling. Now, breathing in the fresh sharp air, he felt calmer somehow, as if the ghost of this experience still lingered around him, instilling a sense of renewed vigour and comfort.
‘He never respected me,’ Tayven muttered.
‘What did you say?’ Merlan asked.
‘I wanted Khaster to respect me. He just used me as pretty comfort.’
‘Perhaps it would have been different if you’d respected yourself first,’ Merlan said gently.
Tayven shook his head, sighed, then looked up at Shan. ‘I’m sorry for what I said. It was unforgivable.’
Shan shrugged. He had to agree and was not yet capable of uttering forgiveness.
Tayven laughed tentatively and rubbed his jaw. ‘You must have enjoyed throwing that punch. I don’t blame you. I deserved it.’
‘You did,’ Shan said, ‘but let’s forget it. We were all in a strange mood.’
‘You weren’t,’ Merlan said. ‘Of all of us you were the most sensible, for which we should be thankful.’
‘I shouldn’t have attacked you like that,’ Tayven said to Merlan.
‘It wasn’t pleasant,’ Merlan agreed, ‘but I’m prepared to forget it.’
But what about Taropat? Shan wondered. He was the cause of Tayven’s frustrated anger, as much, perhaps, as Tayven was the cause of his.
After a meagre breakfast of more hard apples, they struck camp and walked towards the lake. They found Taropat sitting crossed legged on the grass, gazing out at the divine landscape of Ninatala. He greeted them brightly as if nothing had happened. ‘Ah, there you are! I trust high spirits are out of the way and you are ready for some work.’
‘High spirits?’ said Shan, aghast.
‘Where have you been?’ Merlan snapped. ‘I was worried sick.’
‘There’s no need to worry about me,’ Taropat said. ‘This landscape is food for my soul.’ He inhaled deeply.
Shan glanced covertly at Tayven, who was gazing at Taropat with tired eyes full of longing.
‘We’ve slept and eaten,’ Shan said.
Taropat did not seem to object. ‘Probably for the best, under the circumstances,’ he said coolly. ‘We should expect some strange manifestations of emotion. It is part of a cleansing process.’
It hadn’t felt like cleansing, but perhaps Taropat knew best. Shan wasn’t sure what he thought any more.
‘We should affirm that we are in accord now,’ Taropat said. ‘We must forget our differences, see the harsh words for what they are.’
‘What are they?’ Merlan asked.
‘Expressions of negative energy,’ Taropat replied. ‘It’s like letting poison out of wound. So are we in accord? Are you all right about that, Tayven?’
Tayven nodded, hugging himself, as if he was very cold.
‘Good,’ said Taropat. ‘We should put petty human drives behind us. Look at this place. It thrums with power.’
His mood and enthusiasm were infectious. Shan dared to think that perhaps Taropat had been right about the fight. He went to sit beside his mentor and Taropat smiled at him. The lake was a long, sickle-shaped body of water, which to Shan suggested a lunar aspect. He voiced this thought aloud.
‘No,’ Taropat said, ‘the sickle represents the weapon used to cut the throat of the sun king at harvest-time.’ He pointed at a wide, flat rock at the edge of the water. ‘We should conduct our meditation there.’
Obediently, the group went to rock and sat down. At Taropat’s suggestion, they drank from their water bottles. Taropat took one of Merlan’s hands and one of Tayven’s in his own and gently squeezed them. He was trying to put the previous night’s events behind them. Shan wondered whether a supernatural force had been at work. He suspected that Taropat found the emotional displays extremely inconvenient. He couldn’t be bothered with dealing with their cause.
Ninatala was surrounded by shivering birch trees, whose branches drooped towards the water, heavy with swags of delicate leaves. As the sun rose higher, the light seemed golden, conjuring a rich array of green hues from the lawnlike sward of the plain and the foliage of the trees.
Taropat bid them close their eyes to summon the spiritual landscape as before. ‘Everything you look upon shines with its own radiance, as if made of light,’ he said. ‘But it does not hurt your eyes to gaze upon it.’
Shan felt a great sense of tranquillity drift over him. He was bathed in the etheric light of the landscape and it restored his strength. The air was so quiet, not even the twitter of a bird disturbed the sacred silence. A low rumbling sound began to purr in his mind, growing louder and louder. He pictured the lion guardian walking towards them. It was a mountain lion with a golden pelt and blazing yellow eyes. Shan could perceive the details of the beast with startling clarity; the black rim to its eyes and mouth, the soft white fur on its chin, the dark pink of its nose leather. The creature stood beside them, right by Tayven, who was sitting erect, cross-legged with his head thrown back. Shan’s visualisation was so vivid, it was as if his eyes were open. The lion opened its mouth wide and emitted a loud roar.
Shan jumped and opened his eyes. The roar had not been part of the meditation. The first thing he saw was an immense, incontrovertibly real mountain lion standing beside Tayven. Everyone else had opened their eyes as well. Merlan’s mouth hung open in shock. Tayven flinched in fear, but Taropat reached out calmly and took hold of his arm.
‘Remain
still,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t be afraid.’
Shan could not tear his eyes away from the lion’s gaze. It looked at each of them in turn and moments seemed to stretch into an eternity. He had never seen such a beautiful, perfect creature, full of the potential for destruction, yet standing there beside them with easy grace, staring into their eyes as if judging their souls.
Then, the moment was broken. A high yodelling song echoed out across the plain. At once, the lion sprang away, loped to the edge of the hill behind them and disappeared over the crest.
For a few moments, no one moved. Shan was stunned and disorientated by the experience and sensed the others felt the same.
‘That was clearly the spirit guardian,’ Tayven said, and raised his arm to point. ‘So is this the physical aspect?’
Shan was uneasy about Tayven’s restored humour. Had Taropat’s simple hand-squeezing gesture prompted it? If so, he felt Tayven was deluding himself.
A young, clean-shaven man was walking towards them, dressed in the garb of a monk. His hood was thrown back and long dark hair curled over his shoulders. He carried a shepherd’s crook and was accompanied by a small flock of sheep. He must have uttered the cry that scared the lion away.
It took some minutes for the shepherd to reach them and when he did so, he bowed. The sheep began immediately to graze.
‘Who are you, lords?’ said the shepherd. ‘Has the Golden One brought you to me?’
‘We are travellers,’ Taropat replied, ‘on the spiritual quest of the lakes.’
The shepherd nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, yes. I see. You are blessed. He came to you.’
‘The lion, then, is certainly the spiritual guardian of this site,’ Taropat said. He smiled. ‘Our meditation here seems rather cock-eyed. I had thought we would meet the physical guardian first.’