The Revenants (10 page)

There Jasmine was petted, patted, kissed and passed around the circle of blue-gowned nuns, as though she were a kind of sad dessert to be licked up. At length the commiseration stopped, and one of the nuns came forward to give her a book. It was Library Sister. This is everything I could find about the Girdle of Binding, the Girdle of Chu-Namu,’ she said. ‘I’ve written very small, and the notebook will fit in your pocket. There are some references even Eldest Sister didn’t find. You do read, don’t you?’ Jasmine nodded, and Library Sister embraced her, blessing her in the name of the Goddess.

‘I’ve given you medicine for swamp fever,’ said Sister Herbal. ‘Library Sister says you could end up almost anywhere, which would include swamps. There’s herb mix for travellers’ trots, and wound dressing to stop bleeding. There’s bandage, and insect balm, and a few things for womanly troubles. You do have womanly troubles?’ Jasmine nodded, to spare the kindly one either disappointment or embarrassment, and the Sister Herbal blessed her in the name of the Goddess.

‘I’ve made you a cloak with lots of pockets,’ said Seamstress Sister. Two on each side, and two secret ones hidden at the back, inside, and one in the hood. The eyeholes are double stitched. I’ve put a housewife in the left pocket, buttoned in, with some good needles and thread and extra buttons and ties. You do sew, don’t you?’ Jasmine nodded, and Sister Seamstress embraced her, blessing her in the name of the Goddess.

‘This cordial,’ said Sister Steward, ‘is very rare and very old. It restores the will to live, warms the cold, keeps away night dragons. It will get you drunk once or save your life many times over. I found this old flask in the undercellar-the Goddess alone knows how long it has been there. It’s a good size for carrying, and not ugly. I won’t ask you if you drink, for that would be a foolish question. I bless you though, child, in the name of the Goddess. Eldest Sister can be an absolute bitch.’

Jasmine was led back through the Temple gardens, the various gifts stored in the pockets of the orbansa, resolving as she walked that she might as well go on the quest for the Girdle of Chu-Namu. That night she packed a few things, wrote a few brief good-byes, including one to the magistrate in which the words dripped venom onto the pale pages. In the morning, she left early, lingering near the gates to the play yard at the Temple, hoping to see Hu’ao For even one moment. Other children came into the yard, but not Hu’ao, who was being fed candies in the anteroom of the office of the Eldest Sister.

That night the Eldest Sister had a vision of the Goddess from which she woke trembling and sick. Words spoken in that vision would not leave her mind. The Goddess herself had said,
‘Who invokes my name must live by that invocation. As you have said I
have
done, I have done.’
Thereafter, Eldest Sister did not have Hu’ao brought to her. Hu’ao stayed in the care of Sister Herbal, or Sister Steward, or Library Sister or Seamstress Sister, or any one of a dozen others. Though she was much loved, the Sisters never for one moment let her forget Jasmine.

FROM THE NOTES OF LIBRARY SISTER:

During the early Second Cycle, a people came into the settled lands from the east, a people who called themselves ‘The Thousand,’ or the ‘Thiene’ This long-lived race was said by some to be descended from the wizards who had left the earth at the end of the First Cycle. Whatever their origin, the Thiene began the numbering of the years, sought out the reclusive archivists in Tchent and sent them among the people as teachers, and preached the eternal unity of the four Powers, these named as
Earthsoul, Our Lady of the Waters, Firelord,
and the
High Spirit,
sometimes called
Skysoul.

Each of these Powers was said to be embodied in an artifact created ‘outside of time’ and dedicated to the Power in question. That of Our Lady of the Waters was said to be a Girdle or belt which ‘bound all life together as the waters bind the earth.’ It was known as the Girdle of Binding. Some early Second Cycle sources refer to this Girdle as the ‘maintainer of earth’ and state that it was put in the care of a religious group in the far east, possibly at the Temple in the City of the Mists. Since the Concealment, we have no clear idea of the location of this City, but it was certainly beside the eastern sea. The area was known to the Akwithian kings, for the City of the Mists was conquered by them near the end of the Second Cycle
.

Among the spoils taken from the City was the Girdle of Binding, and this Girdle was brought to Tchent to be kept in the treasure house there. Though none of the Thiene remained in the world at that time, the line of Tar-Akwith was said to have Thienese ancestry, and his son, the father of Sud-Akwith, married a woman from Tchent. P’Vey, a chronicler attached to the High House of Akwith, writes that Sud-Akwith was displeased that a military force had been brought against the City of Mists and prayed publicly that no evil should befall the line of Akwith because of this dishonour done to Our Lady. In any case, the Girdle was put into safekeeping in Tchent
.

It was shortly after this time that the Lord of the Northlands attempted the rebuilding of Tharliezalor on the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Akwith realm. He thus aroused that which dwelt beneath the ruins of the city and was almost defeated by demon forces. Through the use of one of the holy artifacts, the Sword of Fire – or, as it came to be called, the Sword of Sud-Akwith – the demons were driven back, but events were set into motion which culminated in the end of the Second Cycle
.

Nothing more is written of the Girdle until the time of the Chronicles of D’Zunalor, the sagas of the Axe King. Here it is written that a ‘wondrous belt’ was taken at the fall of Tchent as part of the plunder. This plunder was taken from Tchent to the Rochagam D’Zunabat, the high plain of the Axe King, where it was distributed among the axe lords and the minor lords. The ‘wondrous belt’ fell to the lot of Zunochon, a very highly placed courtier, perhaps a prince of the Axe King’s line
.

The next record is found in the Bagur Namu, the Song of Namu, in which it is recorded that Zunachon gave the Girdle to Chu-Namu, a princess, perhaps priestess, from one of the captive cities, before setting off into the Northlands at the Axe King’s command. He was not seen again. The Bagur Namu says that the Girdle had the power to bind time and that Chu-Namu sought her lover for over five hundred years, not aging during all that time. The Song ends with the end of the search, with Chu-Namu finding her lover at last, ‘beyond the Gate.’ Before entering the Gate with him, she gave the Girdle to her maid, the twelfth generation daughter of the maidservant who had accompanied her mistress on the search five hundred years before. The Song says, ‘She (the maidservant) came back into the west to bring the Girdle of Chu-Namu to that place which waited to receive it.’

The ‘place which waited to receive if could have been a Temple or religious foundation dedicated to Our Lady. This seems likely inasmuch as Chu-Namu was, in some accounts, alleged to be in the service of the Lady at the time of her capture. Since the reign of the Axe King ended in about 164 TC, and the search was said to have lasted for 500 years, the Girdle would have reached its destination sometime in the seventh century TC. Some of the most reliable accounts of that period and the following century mention that something of the kind may have been kept in Howbin, in a shrine or museum of antiquities there
.

Since there is no modern mention of this shrine, it must be presumed lost. Perhaps its contents passed into the keeping of one of the Drossynian Lords of Howbin. If the Girdle does, indeed, ‘bind all time, love, and devotion,’ it is likely that it still exists somewhere in those western lands. Certainly Howbin is a likely place to begin to look for it
.

There followed in the notes some general observations about the geo-politics of the region to the west of the Sorgian Sea with particular reference to the duchies of Howbin, Sisedge, and Rheesmarch, and generously quoted material from original sources, much of it in the ancient languages of D’Zunalor, Akwith, or the Drossynian Kings. There was also a detailed map of Howbin – a weary and impossible journey to the west from the familiar bounds of Lakland.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THEWSON

Year 1167

In his travels across the mountains and valleys and seas of the world, Thewson often found himself remembering – for no reason he could name – the spear round he had made when he reached puberty. It was the custom in the Lion Courts. It was hoped that each young man who returned from the round would have received a message, or failing that, a mark of favour from one or more of the gods. The round was strenuous, but no longer overly dangerous. One of the Chieftains several generations back had ruled that there was no advantage to the tribe in killing off too many of its young men, and the mantraps and deadfalls were removed from the trail of the round. In still later generations the cliff climbs were notched somewhat to afford hand-holds, and by Thewson’s time, the way was almost tame.

Of course, a boy ha^ been killed the previous year by a tiger. Thewson had been told of that several times, in order that he be properly respectful and apprehensive. Actually, no one knew whether it had been a tiger or not. All that had been found were the bones. It could as well have been a snake, striking from beneath a sun-warmed stone.

So, when Thewson began to sprout hair in new places and bulge his loin leathers in an interesting manner, he was taken to the house of the Chieftain, to the very room of the Chair, and there the great chest which was bound in iron and studded with ivory and bloodstones was, opened before him. Inside were the spear blades of the tribe. When a warrior died, the shaft of his spear was broken, but the blades came down from generation to generation, long and narrow as blades of grass, sharp as the sting of scorpions. Thewson was left alone with the blades to listen to them, to hope that one would speak to him. One of the blades was green, with a curled guard and a long tang. It spoke to Thewson the moment he took it from the chest, saying his name three times. Thewson spent an hour in the room, as was proper, but the blade did not speak again. He carried it out proudly into the sunlight and lifted it above his head to show the people his choice. His uncle, the great craftsman, helped him form the shaft and pierce it, to rivet the blade and bind it with strips and tassels of basilisk hide which does not stretch when wet. The spear was too heavy for him, and too tall, much too tall, but that was proper. A boy should grow to his spear, and he should struggle to carry it upon the round.

He was told to watch out for the Great Beast, was given the usual small pouch of food and told to seek drink where he might. The first night was to be spent in the cave of the jewelled bird god, beneath the skull shelf. There would be two stops during the day, one at the tree of the tailed god, and one at the well of the One-Of-Frogs.

Thewson received no message in either place. The tree, aside from the carved image at its foot, was insignificant. The well smelled of stagnant rot. The cave of the jewelled bird was warm, dry, and smelled pleasantly of the spice flowers which grew at the entrance. Thewson scratched himself out a level space on the floor and built a small fire, and lay curled beside it staring into the shadow dance the flames made. He had not expected to receive a message from the tailed god. The tailed god was mostly a god of thieves or messengers, a god for getting out of tight places, a god for the small hours of the morning. The One-Of-Frogs was a god of wet places, a god who would cure diseases of the skin, most particularly the flaking disease. Thewson had conducted himself with proper respect in both places. He had been told what could happen to young men who failed in respect to even the least of the gods. The gods could get even in ways never suspected by men until they found those unmentionable things actually happening to them.

The jewelled god was a god for warriors because it did not rest. It did not perch, nor was it seen nesting. Its wings moved always like the shadow dance of flames, and it was tireless. Small boys, always in motion, were called by the jewelled bird god’s name. Warriors, tireless in battle, were given the name of the jewelled bird god in addition to their battle names. The image of the god flickered in the shadows of the cave, suspended by ancient art and nearly invisible strings, as restless as the bird itself. The nervous glitter threw scraps of light across the walls and floor, across Thewson’s dusty arms and chest, up and across and pause and back and down and pause and up and across and pause and back and …

The god spoke to him, in a voice like the whirr of wings, a dry, quiet buzzing. ‘Another message seeker, eh, eh? Stupid. Silly. I’ll give you a message, young killer. Fly. That’s the message. Disappear. Vanish. Go like the breath of wind and the sound of lost wings. Eh, you get that? That’s my message to you. When faced by danger, flee.’

Thewson tried to open his eyes and could not. He raised his head with enormous and concentrated dignity. ‘I couldn’t do that. No warrior could do that.’

‘So die, then,’ whispered the god. ‘So die with your blood all around you and your pretty skin in tatters. Eh? I don’t know why I bother. I tell them all. They never listen.’

There was a feeling of vacating, as though someone long in residence had gone away to an unimaginable distance, and Thewson opened his eyes. There had been a finality about that last phrase, ‘They never listen.’ Deep inside him, something snapped to attention, and Thewson heard. ‘I’m listening,’ he whispered into the silence. ‘Really.’

At the end of the distance, at the place where distance ends, an opening happened and the dry whirr came through, softly. ‘Well, think about it, eh? Think about it.’

Thewson slept well. The next day’s trip took him through the little clearing where the Tree of Forever stood, the stone god house at its base dwarfed by the towering trunk, the xoxaauwal, the sky gatherer. Nearby was the house of the old shaman, and Thewson paid his respects to both the Tree and the office. He went then to the place of the giver of law, the ledge of ending where the god of things forgotten lived, then to the falls, streams, pools, and marshes of the woman gods. He slept nearby, expecting no message. Indeed, it would be exceedingly inappropriate to receive a message from a woman god. He wakened, blushing, but could not remember why.