The Sage (31 page)

Yocote
took small pouches from his belt, pinching powders from within and sprinkling
them into the pot. He let them boil as he chanted over them, then took the
little vessel from the fire and set it in front of Culaehra. “Sit still until
the steam has ceased to rise,” he said. “Then you may drink it—but drink it
all, no matter how vile the flavor. Some while after that you may rise—and your
rib should be as good as new. That is not to say it will not ache for a few
days, but it will stand up to normal misuse.”

“I
... thank you, shaman,” Culaehra said, as if not quite knowing how to pronounce
the words.

“I
shall delight to see you in good health again,” Yocote said, inclining his
head. “After all, it is to our benefit, for if you are laid low, who will carry
that horrendous weight to Agrapax for us?”

“What
horrendous weight?” Culaehra groaned.

Silence
fell. Everyone looked about for the treasure chest. “Where is it?” Yocote asked
softly.

Culaehra
groaned again, not from the pain. Quietly, Kitishane said, “I was about to fall
into a crevasse. He had to choose between the treasure and me.”

“He
chose well,” Yocote said instantly.

“Oh,
aye!” Lua said fervently. “Bless you, warrior, for saving my sister!”

Culaehra
looked up in surprise. “
You
bless me?”

Lua
could only smile beneath her goggles. “I forgave you months ago, Culaehra. Do
you forgive Illbane?”

“Aye,
if you wish it.” But the warrior looked up at the sage, searching his feelings
and finding only a lingering resentment of Illbane's bullying. The hatred was
gone, and with it, the lust for revenge. After all, how can you keep hating a
man who saves your life, who listens to your self-condemnations and never
whispers a word of them to another soul, who nonetheless reassures you of your
own worth? “I think I have already.”

Illbane's
smile was radiant. “What matters the loss of a mass of gold, against such
discoveries as these?”

Culaehra's
shoulders lifted and fell with the laugh he dared not yet let out, for fear of
his mending rib. “It matters little to us, Illbane, but it will matter somewhat
to Agrapax, and even more to Oramore. I find I have no wish to go to an Ulin and
tell him I have lost his gold.”

“Well,
then, we must win it back,” Yocote said simply.

“Oh,
easily said!” Culaehra snorted. “But how shall we go down where the chest has
fallen, especially now that the crack in the earth ...” His voice trailed off
as he stared at Yocote.

The
little shaman smiled under his goggles, nodding. “Yes, Culaehra. We are
gnomes—people whose natural home is far underground, to whom the seams and rips
within the earth are as natural a playground as a tree's limbs are to you. Come
with us, if you dare.”

“I
cannot let you go alone to mend my failure!”

“It
was not a failure!” Lua's brows knit in a frown. “You saved my sister!”

Culaehra
stared, wordless at hearing the gnome-maid speak sharply. Yocote took advantage
of his silence to say, “You are a hero, Culaehra—accept it. Come now, drink
your medicine, and when your rib is healed, we shall descend!”

“But
how?” Culaehra managed to croak.

“Through
there.” Yocote jerked his head toward Wauhanak's cave. “Any cave is an opening
into the earth, and my gnome's senses tell me that this opening goes deeper
than most. Come, Culaehra—or are you afraid to go into a god's home?”

C
ulaehra
grunted. “A god's house I might fear,” he said, “but what has that to do with
Wauhanak?” Then, to Illbane, “Why are you smiling so?”

“Hear
your own words,” the sage answered. Culaehra thought back, then realized that
he finally did believe the Ulharls were really not divine. Would he believe
that of the Ulin, when he met their smith Agrapax?

He
drank the brewed herbs, but Yocote insisted that he rest for an hour or two. He
brewed another tea for all to share, and they sipped and chatted about the
adventures of the last few months. They were amazed to discover how much they
had all changed.

“Yocote
has become a shaman, and Culaehra a man worthy of any trust,” Kitishane said in
tones of surprise. “Lua has turned from a timid sparrow into an archer who can
slay if she must. Only I have changed little, save for becoming the trained
fighter that I used to pretend I was.”

“Oh,
no, sister!” Lua protested. “You have changed far more than that! You are more
quiet, you do not bluster or storm at those you perceive as a threat—and you
are so much more sure of yourself that I might not know you if I had not seen
the changes as they happened.”

Kitishane
stared. “Am I really?”

“You
are,” Yocote confirmed, but Culaehra only frowned and said, “You did not know?”

She
met his gaze, her eyes still wide. He smiled, glowing within at her
compliments, and vowing never, ever, to violate her trust.

“This
is your doing, sage,” Yocote accused.

“It
is, and I rejoice in it.” Illbane looked from one to the other, his smile
radiant. “The ordeals through which I have led you, the enemies you have faced
together, have put each of you well on the way to becoming all that you can be,
a way that will go on your whole life, if you have the determination to follow
it without me to goad you.”

“All
that we can be?” Culaehra frowned. “What is this?”

“It
is most obvious in you, Culaehra, for your body, which was strong but running
to fat from self-indulgence, is now hard and lean, and trained to true fighting
skill. Your conscience is at last awake, seeking to tell you what is right, not
finding excuses for doing as you please. This battle has shown that you have
the spirit of a true warrior—” He looked around at them all, smiling. “—but so
do you all. In Culaehra it is more apparent, for he had the furthest to go; in
Yocote it is almost as much so, for he has changed from a gnome whose magic was
weak into a shaman of formidable powers. But you and Lua have grown just as
greatly, and the sign of it is that you have even more determination than
Culaehra and Yocote in your chosen goal.”

They
all stared at him in surprise; then Yocote asked carefully, “What goal is that?”

“You
see? You are not even aware of it yet.” Illbane smiled upon Kitishane. “Speak,
maiden. What do you seek to do?”

Her
voice was hushed, almost as if she was afraid to be heard. “To destroy
Bolenkar.”

The
men stared, then stared again at Lua, for she had not cried out in dismay.
Instead she only nodded, slowly and with gravity. “So you have seen that, too,
sister?”

“Yes,
it is as you say!” Culaehra said, eyes wide. “It has been growing in me, but I
had not yet put words to it!”

“Nor
had I.” Yocote frowned. “But it is true, is it not? The fuchan, the king's
corrupter, the Ulharl grinding down these mountaineers—all were sent by
Bolenkar, were they not?”

“Yes,
and the man who sowed doubts of right and wrong in my village.” Culaehra
glowered at the memory. “Was there one among the gnomekind, too?”

“Was
there? Why do you think they let Lua go wandering aboveground, and despised me
for being too weak in magic?” Yocote spat.

“All
is due to Bolenkar, is it not?” Culaehra asked.

“Not
all humanity's woes, no,” Illbane said, “for our kind is more than able to make
one another miserable by rivalry for position and for mates, by greed and
jealousy and the lust for power. But the suffering that has grown amazingly in
this last hundred years, yes—it is far worse than is natural to humankind, and
the gain is all due to Bolenkar's agents, playing upon our natural vices.”

They
were silent a moment, aghast at the magnitude of what they had said.

“It
is audacity of the highest order, even to speak of overthrowing a god,” Lua
whispered.

“But
he is no god.” Culaehra pushed himself to his feet. “We know that now—Bolenkar
is no god, but only an Ulharl, and can be slain, even as we slew Wauhanak.”

“Can
be, yes.” Yocote frowned. “But Wauhanak dwelled alone, with only these
mountaineers to do his bidding. Bolenkar surely must dwell surrounded by
armies, all eager to win his favor by slaying his enemies!”

“That
is very true,” Illbane said, nodding.

“Then
we shall have to amass an army,” Culaehra said resolutely, “and we shall have
to be devious in the extreme. What, little companion—can you not outsmart a
lumbering hulk like that?”

Yocote's
face split in a grin. “Why, surely I must! Come, big man, take up your sword
again, and take a few brands for torches before you smother the fire. I
pronounce you healed, and we have a treasure to find!”

He
led them past Wauhanak's corpse and into his cave, where he and Lua took off
their goggles. Around, behind the throne they led, then through the fine purple
linen that masked the opening into the earth.

The
Ulharl's dwelling was furnished in luxury. The walls were hung with precious
cloths, the huge table and chairs and bed were carved from lustrous woods and
ornamented with great care. Jewels winked in the cups and plates of silver and
gold, and the stone floor was covered by furs sewn together to form one large
carpet.

“The
villagers may have lived in abject poverty,” Yocote said sourly, “but their god
did well enough for himself.”

“Where
did they find so many beautiful things?” Lua asked, eyes wide and wondering.

“From
caravans that came here in the early years, before Wauhanak's 'toll' grew so
great as to make them shun this pass,” Illbane replied.

“It
is so neat and clean!” Lua looked about her in amazement.

Culaehra
grunted. “I doubt that was his doing. More likely the women of the village were
summoned each day or week, to sweep and dust and cook for him.”

Illbane
nodded steadily, pleased at their reasoning.

“Enough
of his dwelling!” Yocote began to thrash the wall hangings. “There is an
opening to the world below; let us find it!”

“How
do you know?” But Kitishane joined him in his probing.

“A
gnome knows, sister,” Lua assured her, flicking draperies aside. “There!”

They
all turned to look, and saw a dark opening in the rock, perhaps five feet high,
barred with a wooden grid of close-set rods. Culaehra looked upon it with a
smile of irony. “He did not go through there himself, did he? It will be
difficult even for me! But why the grid?”

“To
keep out vermin, warrior,” Yocote said dryly, “such as rats and bats—and
gnomes! Come, take it aside for us!”

Frowning,
Culaehra laid hold of the grid, twining his fingers through the rods, set
himself and gave a hearty pull. The grid groaned, then came away—and they found
themselves staring down into a lightless opening. Kitishane shivered, but
Yocote rubbed his hands, pleased. “Now we go into gnomes' land! Follow,
friends!”

Lua
and Yocote stepped in boldly. Culaehra and Kitishane followed with somewhat less
assurance. They held their torches higher as the darkness closed about them,
leaving only a flickering light that reflected off the walls of the cave and
disappeared into the darkness ahead of them.

They
followed that light.

Lastly
came Illbane, and down they went, into deeper darkness than Kitishane or
Culaehra had ever known before. Children of the forest and the meadow, they
were accustomed to the stars above even in the deepest night, or at least a
little light diffused through the clouds to show sky from earth. Here, though,
the darkness beyond their torchlight was total. Kitishane shivered and, without
realizing it, moved a little closer to Culaehra with each passing step. The
walls began to close in about them, turning a cave into a tunnel, but oddly,
Kitishane drew comfort from that—at least her torchlight showed her what was on
each side, even if it disappeared into the gloom before and behind. She glanced
at it anxiously, wondering how long it had left to burn, for she had only three
more sticks in her belt. Then she stared, amazed, for her torch had not burned
any more wood than when she had taken it from the fire! She glanced at
Culaehra's brand and saw that it, too, was no shorter. Amazed, she turned to
stare at Illbane behind her, but he only winked at her and smiled. For a moment
she could only stare. Then she found herself smiling, too, and turned back to
the gnomes, oddly comforted.

Down
they went, the sloping floor seeming to tug them forward—down and down, in a
spiral, Kitishane thought Then the floor leveled off and they went straight for
a while. Glints of light began to appear in the walls, growing larger and
larger until she could see jewels protruding from the stone. She gasped in
delight and would have stopped, but the gnomes scarcely seemed to see the gems
and would not wait. She followed, her heart torn with the loveliness of the
space, especially as veins of pure gold began to show in the rock—but on and on
the gnomes went, giving her no chance to tarry.

They
came out into a grotto, and even Yocote had to stop and draw breath at the
sight. Their torchlight winked back at them from jagged edges of quartz, but
within and between and all about gleamed jewels of bright color and amazing
purity, and runnels of gold all through both.

“How
could such beauty happen by chance?” Kitishane cried, looking about her,
enthralled.

“It
could not.” Yocote peered closely at the gems and gold. “This is the work of
hands. Gnomes dwelt here once.”

“Gnomes?”
Culaehra frowned. “It could not have been dwarfs?”

“No.”
Yocote sounded rather insulted. “Dwarf work is altogether different—more
square, more rigid. They are smiths; the models for their work are in their
heads. Gnomes fashion curves and fluidity, modeled after water and light,
brought about by gathering gems and persuading crystals to grow. Dwarfs
scarcely notice our work, until centuries have gathered it to such a
concentration as you see here.”