I need to oppose the formlessness, she thought, not add to it.
Forcing herself to concentrate despite the horrible rolling and buffeting of her movement through the Void, she thought about the song that Alene had been creating the last time she had played the a’luwtha on Ramidan. The tune had begun by seeming a disharmony, but, gradually, it had moved in a cycle gathering notes and assuming a loose harmony which incorporated the previous disharmonies. Ember could not recall the words but that didn’t matter. It was the musical approach that counted for she felt certain the song contained the key to controlling her movements. She sang the tune, as she remembered it, at first hesitantly and, gradually, with more confidence. Over and over she sang the tune and each time she moved to the final phrase, which gathered the random notes into harmony, her movement in the Void slowed. Gradually the wild winds ceased to pummel and drag at her, but whenever she faltered, the speed and erratic violence of her movements would increase.
Then she had an idea. Soulweavers segued with purpose. Perhaps now that she had mastered some means of controlling her movement, she could do the same thing.
Show me Glynn, she thought, still humming.
A golden glow loomed and then absorbed her.
Ember found herself in a large, dark hall. On closer inspection, it looked like some sort of library, for there were rows of shelves piled with scrolls. There was a table and a young blonde-haired woman poring over several scrolls by candlelight. It was unmistakably Glynn, even from the back, because she had stuffed her hair unceremoniously down the back of her clothing to get it out of her way, a habit their mother had deplored. She wore, Ember noted, a loose, dark-grey dress over a paler grey fitted dress with long sleeves, and over that, a thick, rough-woven scarf of blue and some sort of flat hide boots. Ember willed herself closer, heart beating fast, as Glynn lifted the scroll and angled it so that the light fell more squarely onto the script.
Glynn turned, looking up and past her, and Ember realised that she was not alone, but, try as she might, she could not see her companion. Perhaps it was her fault for specifying that she wanted to see Glynn. ‘Let me see who is with Glynn,’ she said aloud, firmly.
Nothing happened except that Glynn turned back to the scroll, her brow furrowed. Her lips were moving and Ember willed herself to hear.
‘… why it says Soulsaver and Unraveller. And whose soul is supposed to be saved anyway …’
‘I have never thought of it from this angle,’ a man’s voice remarked, a voice Ember thought that she had heard before.
‘The Unykorn’s, I suppose,’ Glynn answered her own question absently.
‘But as you said, why phrase it in that way?’ the man asked. ‘The Legendsong says that the Unraveller will come and save the Unykorn so surely that would include its soul. Why make it a separate statement?’
Glynn rose from the table and began walking along the shelves, taking out scrolls randomly, unrolling them and running her eyes over them with a casual air which did not deceive Ember for a second. Glynn was looking for something.
The man developed his theme and his pedantry struck a familiar chord. ‘Most scholars say that the words of the Legendsong cannot be read too literally. After all, the Legendsong is as much a poem as anything else and with poetry one often has to focus on the spirit of words, rather than seeking exact meanings. It was not Lanalor’s choice to weave his thoughts into poetry. That was his sister and others of the soulweaving sisterhood, so the writer is many minded. I would give much to see Lanalor’s original scribings.’
‘You could ask the soulweavers,’ Glynn said.
‘Very amusing,’ the man said dryly. ‘The trouble is that there is a price for any request made and it is almost always something one does not wish to give. Or no answer at all. It has always fascinated me that the soulweavers might foresee all who will come and their questions and even the consequences of the answers they might give. Hence the fact that they do not always give an answer. My old tutor said that they search through possibilities until they find the wisest response. Sometimes, it is to send a response so difficult to understand that one suspects it is not meant to be understood. That was Lanalor’s method of rule, also.’
‘You almost sound as if you know Lanalor,’ Glynn said with an easy smile.
‘How should I not know him when I have spent half of my life trying to gain access to any scribings by Lanalor, or about him?’ the man asked.
The vision Glynn had taken out a scroll and was studying it with the same casual air as before, but Ember could see that she was excited by what she was reading. Had she found what she was seeking?
‘Listen … Lanalor first brought beasts from beyond the Void in an effort to find a way to penetrate the bubble of Chaos that imprisoned the Firstmade …’ She looked up. ‘What do you suppose that means?’
‘I have read a chit the Draaka put out which says the line really said that Lanalor brought beasts from within the Void, meaning demons.’ This was said with a challenging note.
Glynn only grinned at him. ‘You do not believe Lanalor caused demons to come from the Void, nor do the soulweavers, so what do you suppose the beasts could have been?’
‘I do not know,’ the man said. ‘Vespers maybe …’
Ember was reminded of the manbeast and wondered if it would be possible to will herself to him. He seemed to have all the answers, but the memory of his deadly seriousness when he spoke of danger, his and hers, if they should meet again, stopped her. The intensity of her thoughts about the manbeast had broken her connection to the dream vision of Glynn and, once again, she was in the Void, tumbling over and over.
She collected her wits and began humming the notes that would allow her to control her movement, but before she could decide what to do, a dark-streaked bubble consumed her.
Abruptly, she was in a lavish room with Coralyn and her handsome, repellent son, Kalide. Coralyn was startlingly bald as she strode back and forward emanating rage like a caged panther. Oddly, the baldness made her no less sensually beautiful, clad as she was in strips of shining blue silk that revealed much of her well-kept flesh, but it made her seem more reptilian than human.
Ember willed herself to hear what was being said.
‘There is no sign of the Fomhikan fool or the visionweaver! Where are they? How did they get out of the cells and vanish so effectively?’ Kalide ranted.
‘I want to know that almost as much as I want them found,’ his mother responded with a glitter of fury.
‘I will garrotte the legionnaires you sent to kill the pair of them.’
‘I have sent the legionnaires who failed us back to Iridom with a sealed message that will see them tortured and interrogated, for it is obvious they were bribed.’
‘We should have killed that visionweaver. You said it was all under control!’ Kalide almost screamed.
The Iridomi chieftain whirled on him with blazing blue eyes. ‘Have a care, Kalide.’
This must have been a familiar threat because it did not faze the Iridomi. ‘Perhaps it is you who should have a care, Mother. My brother might have spies listening.’
The chieftain made a dismissive gesture. ‘Tell me again your impressions of this Draaka.’
Kalide shrugged sulkily. ‘I told you. She was heavily veiled and cloaked and still under the influence of sleep drugs when I saw her. But I have spy ears in place in all of the hall rooms in the apartment in readiness for when she does awaken.’ Coralyn nodded her approval. ‘The other draakira were affected by the journey, too, so they have said little of any import so far. Maybe they know nothing of importance in any case. The exception is the senior draakira who is the Prime of the Acanthan haven. She was … provocative, but perhaps it is only her manner. Certainly she does not love the soulweavers. She and the other draakira criticise and sneer at them openly amongst themselves for of course the lack of servitors makes them feel they cannot be overheard.’
‘To have assigned no servitors to the apartment was cl
ever, though I suppose they will soon enough want them,’ Coralyn said. ‘You said that they brought only one servitor with them? That is a curious thing.’
‘From what I can tell, she is some sort of Fomhikan animal trainer who cares for a beast they have brought with them. But she looks like a myrmidon except for her unbound hair.’
‘Perhaps the Draaka intends to make use of her appearance to penetrate the ranks of Darkfall supporters here.’
‘To what end?’
‘I do not know, but have the servitor followed if she is sent from the apartment. Have these draakira anything to say of me and my invitation? Is their mistress honoured?’
‘Her people believe you desire an alliance with their mistress, but they do not say what she thinks of this. Which suggests she keeps her thoughts to herself.’
‘I am pleased to hear it. Only a fool confides in underlings. What else?’
‘They speak of some sort of ritual which they would conduct here, for which they need many supporters, but they are wary and furtive and talk in cryptics. They want a haven here, that much is clear.’
‘I expected no less. Have the listeners transcribe exactly what they heard on the spy ears. Use drugs to ensure the rememberings are accurate.’
‘That will damage them somewhat,’ Kalide said.
Coralyn shrugged. ‘Do it. What else?’
‘At least two of the draakira spoke of the Chaos spirit and not this Void guardian they bleat about in chits.’
‘This pleases me. The Chaos spirit may be myth, but at least it is a myth with teeth, and bloody ones at that. It is wise of the Draaka to have watered down her preaching to the public though. Of course she cannot truly believe the mumbo jumbo that her followers mouth …’
‘It is clear from the spy ears that they believe it.’
Coralyn ignored this. ‘I wonder what she wants, ultimately.’
‘Power …’
‘She has that, but no doubt she would like more,’ Coralyn murmured. ‘I doubt that she comes merely to establish a haven here, given that she has the numbers here to set anything in motion from anarchy to a coup.’
‘The information I have does not suggest that she has much interest in material things or sensual pleasures …’
‘Merely to have power can be the greatest sensual pleasure,’ Coralyn said softly. ‘So far, one might imagine that having power is what she wants for she has shown no desire to use it or to control anything more than the minds of the cult followers. But if that were truly so, she would not have accepted my invitation. Have no doubt that she is here for some specific and important reason and I will know what it is. Make sure that you have the listeners report her words and doings from the moment she wakens. When you meet her, remind her that it would be wise to send out some chit which clarifies the fact that she is not opposed to Tarsin.’
‘How can she do that? The chits she had already circulated clearly imply that he should not rule Keltor.’
‘The Draaka has shown that she has a gift for reshaping truth. She will manage it, I think. I had hoped she would be able to make her explanations to Tarsin in person but unfortunately the disappearance of the visionweaver has made him even more unreasonable than usual. He refuses to allow the draakan delegation to present itself, which means they will be confined to the Iridomi guest apartment for the time being. He should have been so enraged by Bleyd’s escape that he would accuse Poverin of involvement. The Vespians could then have been forced to carry a Holder’s armada to Fomhika to bring Poverin to justice …’
Kalide said eagerly, ‘If Poverin and his eldest son were executed for treason, Gedron would inherit chieftainship.’
‘Gedron will not serve us unless his Draaka commands it and you have forgotten Poverin’s woman. Maeve would disavow knowledge of the poisoning attempt and be believed by the other chieftains, and then she would assume control herself.’
‘What if she were so stricken and shamed by the behaviour of her husband and sons that she took her own life …’
The two were silent for a while, both smiling slightly. ‘A nice scenario and it would have simplified my own plans, but it is not to be,’ Coralyn said at last. ‘Fortunately, once Kerd weds Unys, we will have the upper hand in any dispute.’
‘What use is there in having Kerd a willing puppet when it is his father who rules the shipfolk?’
‘Do not concern yourself about Fulig. My plans encompass him,’ Coralyn said, her voice silky and imperious.
Kalide shrugged. ‘Well, what shall I tell the Draaka? They will wonder why you do not come to welcome them.’
‘Tell them the truth – that court politics do not permit it. But say I am keen for the Draaka to establish a presence here to fill the vacuum left by the decline of the soulweavers’ influence, and ensure the Draaka that we will meet in good time and to our mutual advantage. Take maps and lists of the properties we own and say that I wish to make a gift of land for a haven. Throughout all of this, listen well and see if you can learn more of her secret designs.’
‘I will learn of her desires,’ Kalide promised, eyes glowing with sudden lust. ‘I have heard that she is comely enough.’
His mother gave him a hard look. ‘Be careful, Kalide. You have said yourself that there is no evidence this Draaka is interested in sensual things. It is even possible that she does not like men …’
‘Then I will teach her to …’
‘Silence,’ snapped Coralyn. ‘Listen to me. If you offend the woman, there will be no chance of using her. Show her respect. Awe even. Flatter her and even flirt subtly, but nothing more than that. If she conceives a desire for you, it will be better for her to remain hungry than to be satisfied. It will make her more eager to be of use to us.’
Kalide caught his mother’s hand and kissed it. ‘You are right! See why I worship you, Mother?’
Coralyn gave her son a dazzling smile. ‘Go now, and see if the Draaka has awakened. Take her rich salves and comforting smudge sticks from our own stores. Take her a phial of diamoth, too, to settle her mind and stomach. And send Unys to me.’
‘What of Asa?’
Coralyn frowned thoughtfully. ‘Very well. You may try your methods to restore his memory, but be careful. His inability to remember what happened in the cells when the Fomhikan escaped is irritating but not deliberate, and he is useful to me.’
Kalide bowed and went out of his mother’s apartment. Coralyn was still a moment, as if sunk in thought, but suddenly she turned and seemed to glare straight into Ember’s eyes.
Ember reeled back from the vision and fell into another …
8
In the moment of his greatest despair did Lanalor know
that within their incompleteness,
the Lastmade held the essence of the Chaos spirit and the Song,
and so were unlike any other, created or unmade.
Humankind alone can choose how to complete themselves.
So it was that in this uttermost emptiness, the great betrayer
became the first of the Lastmade to know the Chaos spirit within.
LEGENDSONG OF THE UNYKORN
A young uniformed policeman was walking along a shabby street lined by shops with broken windows or grey metal grilles daubed with fading graffiti. Grass grew up through cracks in the pavement and there was rubbish in the gutter beside an overflowing rubbish bin. A group of young boys and girls were smoking on the corner. They looked vaguely apprehensive beneath their studied indifference, but the policeman did not seem to see them as he passed.
He had walked another block when a white van slowed and pulled to the kerb. The driver, a heavy-set blonde woman with a short crew cut, idled the car along to match his pace. ‘Want a lift, handsome?’ she called through the window.
The policeman started and then smiled in weary recognition. ‘How are the good works going, Faye?’ he asked as if he had said the same words many times before.
The woman reminded Ember very slightly of the myrmidon, Fe
yt, and so it was intriguing to hear that her name was so close: Faye. The woman pulled up a little ahead of the policeman and stopped the engine as she climbed out. ‘Things are pretty much as usual my end of things. Three glue-sniffers this morning that took the muffins and ran when I asked their names.’ The woman had an unusually rich voice with a timbre that made it sound as if she was always on the verge of laughing, and there were crinkles at the edges of her eyes that said she smiled more than scowled. ‘At least they were up and running, not like that poor kid we found last week. They’ve shifted him to Dead Waits and they don’t think he’s going to wake up. Poor little bastard doesn’t even have a name.’
‘Probably didn’t have much of a one before he went under. Don’t you ever get tired of trying to make a difference?’ the policeman asked.
The woman shrugged. ‘I don’t expect anything back from the people I try to help so how can I be disappointed? I just want to do some giving rather than taking is all. Most of our volunteers are the same. We’re not world-savers or warriors. We’re just people putting something back. But maybe it’s different when it’s your job. What’s up, Johnny?’
The policeman made an effort to smile, but it was obviously an effort. ‘Nothing a good cup of coffee wouldn’t ease,’ he said.
‘Done.’ The woman opened the side of the van with practised ease and rummaged among baskets before withdrawing an industrial-sized thermos and two chipped mugs with Disney characters on the sides. She poured coffee and then sugared both cups. ‘No milk left, I’m afraid.’
The policeman shrugged and sipped the coffee. Ember noted how his shoulders sloped as if he carried something heavy.
‘Are you OK?’ Faye asked directly.
‘You know what? I’m not, but maybe neither is anyone else.’ He took another mouthful of the coffee. ‘Last week I lied in court to protect my partner, and I helped send a kid to jail for something he might not have done.’
‘A kid?’ the woman asked without weight.
‘A delinquent with a sheet as long as your arm. And maybe he did it. That’s the crazy thing. He might be guilty but we didn’t have the evidence. The worst of it is that I understand why my partner trumped up the evidence. The kid was a real toughie with a mouth like a sewer, and so often we catch someone only to see them walk away because we can’t produce the right kind of evidence or some prosecutor comes up with a technicality that makes our evidence inadmissible. What we do is fight a losing battle and it feels like it. But …’