The Starfollowers of Coramonde (44 page)

Bey bowed
deeply. “As you new gods shall serve Amon and his infernal deity, so Yardiff
Bey will serve you, and so shall Evergray rule the Crescent and
South-wastelands by your command.” He bowed again, ecstatic, on the brink of
every ambition.

Gil spent an
unknown period waiting for Evergray to show up. He ate, slept, had marathon
talks with Dunstan, and began the cycle again. His sleep time changed, in
circadian adjustment, into naps, and the tension of imprisonment penetrated his
dreams. His vitality came back and he began to exercise, though he felt guilty
that Dunstan couldn’t.

Flaycraft,
when he came, told them nothing. Gil baited him, but stopped short of provoking
a fight. Reacher could have taken the beast-man apart; Hightower would
certainly have broken him over one knee; but Gil was nowhere near their class,
and had been drained by the things he’d undergone. The torturer would bare his
canines and make ominous threats, then leave a new bucket, taking the old one
away. Afterward, Gil would find his hair on end, his hands shaking.

Finally, the
Scion of Salamá appeared. The passageway rumbled open and, backlighted by the
orange radiance, Evergray beckoned to Gil from beyond it. The American came
haltingly, not quite believing he was permitted a small taste of freedom. He
had a moment’s indecision about leaving Dunstan alone, but figured he’d have to
play Evergray along.

Outside, Gil
blinked in the light of a corridor as wide as a city boulevard. The cell-side
of it was solid rock; the other wall was opaque glass or crystal, lit from the
exterior by a molten orange luminance, rearing up hundreds of feet.

The
passageway shut, and Gil could see no opening where it had been. But indicating
its position was a glowing rune, suspended in air by the stone wall of the
corridor.

“We will
speak elsewhere,” Evergray said. “The confines of your chamber are not pleasing
to me.”

“Dunstan and
me don’t think much of it either.”

The giant had
already started off. “We will not discuss that; it has no importance to me.” He
was more imposing now, with a more distant air. His red pupils had shrunk to
mere pinheads, and he radiated strength. The crown-helmet was steadier on his
head.

They passed
through a series of galleries filled with curious and odd objects the American
couldn’t identify, some like abstract sculptures, others like small icons that
stood in niches in the walls or on stands. Perspective and the sizes and shapes
of the objects and the rooms had been tampered with, distorted.

They came
onto a broad terrace, looking out over Shardishku-Salamá. It was built of towers
and monoliths, pylons, obelisks, bizarre palaces and structures inexplicable.
One was a building constructed in the image of a spread-winged bird of metal,
its feet planted among the other structures, its mouth opened to show a forked
tongue. Next to that, a tower rose, fashioned from what looked like colossal
bones. The building beside that had hundreds of minarets, showing different
colored lights in each. Beyond was a titanic globe of basaltic rock, iron,
ivory, gold, jade, and chalcedony; from its top a crown of flame roared into
the air, the orange fire that had lit Bey’s glass-walled corridor. On the wall
of another, Gil saw a heroic bas-relief, hundreds of yards on a side. In it,
figures swarmed and soared around a tree that grasped and clutched at them like
a malign octopus. The figures were striking at it with thunderbolts, tearing at
its roots, fighting bravely. This was the Masters’ depiction of their treason
to the Lifetree.

Bey’s mansion
itself was a single block of stone, a gigantic cube set down in the middle of
the city. Farther along the vast balcony,
Cloud Ruler
sat, its fires
cooled. “Where is everybody?” Dunstan had told him the few citizens of Salamá
hadn’t many mortal servants, or much use for them, according to Evergray. But Gil
hadn’t expected the place to look so empty.

Evergray
pointed to the flaming globe. “There, in their Fane, the Masters called me, and
I must go again soon. Yet I have more questions about free will.”

Gil said he’d
try to answer. Evergray sat on a wide bench of flint, chiseled to his
proportions. “What has your free will done for you? Has it answered enigmas,
ennobled you, extended your spirit or increased your powers?”

“I… it
doesn’t work that way. It’s only doing what you want. It’s only about being able
to pick.”

“One does
anything at all, on impulse?”

Gil held up
his hands helplessly. “In theory, I guess. Evergray, I can’t see what it is
you’re leading to. Are you telling me you never made up your own mind about
anything?”

“Only in the
smallest sense of choice among preselected alternatives. Never in the greater
sense of invoking change of my own.”

“But you want
to?”

“I am unsure.
It is a capacity I have, but will not be permitted, when the Masters rule. Yet
it is a part of me, of my greatness, I think. I have the ability; it seems
undesirable for any aspect of me to go unused. My every facet is the function
of perfection; why, then, must part of me be suppressed or ignored? It is
inappropriate.”

“How’ll you
lose it?” Gil was amazed; this wasn’t ego Evergray was displaying, it was
psychosis.

“The Masters
will accomplish their spell soon, and their powers will be remanded to me.
Then, untainted by earthly ties, or energies of earthly origins, they will rise
and fill themselves with the might of the Cosmos. They will reshape the face of
the Crescent Lands and the Southwastelands, and rule their new domain. Over
them will be Amon, who will control all planes, serving his Infernal Deity, our
ultimate Lord. And I will control all mundane things in the name of the Five.”

Gil was
dumfounded, and his thoughts became dense, trying to cope with what Evergray
had said. The red haze he’d known came down over his vision. In the storm of
his emotion, the Berserkergang began to take hold.

Evergray noticed.
“Ah, is this some seizure of the free will? But no, I see: It is simple,
unmonitored Rage. Uninteresting.” He waved a hand; the Rage was snuffed out
like a candle.

The American
stood, gaping as if he’d gotten a bucket of ice water in the face. He rocked
back on his heels.

Evergray made
no summons, but Flaycraft had come up to them. “Take him back to his chamber,”
the giant said, “for I must go to receive more of the legacy of the Masters.”
Flaycraft stepped toward Gil, who brought his hands up.

“Evergray, at
least take Bey’s spell off Dunstan, won’t you? He’s been helpful to you.”

The giant
sounded angry for the first time. “Submit! Offer no resistance to my faithful
friend.” The torturer gave the Scion a look somewhere between gratitude and
adoration. “He is my cherished, steadfast Flaycraft,” the giant went on, more
calmly. “I will speak to you again when I have more questions. The Horseblooded
is of no importance to me.”

As Flaycraft
herded Gil away with glee, Evergray stood and gazed at the Fane of the Masters,
fingering the crown-helmet on his head.

I have seen them gentle, tame
and meek,

That now are wild, and do not
remember

That some time they put
themselves in danger

To take bread at my hand.

Sir Thomas Wyatt

“They Flee from Me”

GIL related everything in detail,
partly to tell Dunstan what their situation was, and partly to consider it more
closely himself.

“This tells
us more of Evergray,” Dunstan admitted, “yet, of what use is it?”

“I’m not
sure; what do we know? First, the Masters are aiming for divinity, or something
like it. Second, to do it, they have to ‘Ascend,’ whatever that means. They
have to get rid of any taint of their own humanity. So third, they’re going to
put all their earthly power in Evergray and make him their stooge, ruling by
their instructions.” He stopped, considering. “But why allow Evergray free
will?”

Dunstan
leaned his head back against the stone. “He is to exert control, is he not?
Then, a certain capacity for will is implicit. How can an unquestioning machine
dominate, as Evergray is to do?”

“You got it;
a zombie’s no good to them, and the Masters can’t rule directly because it
would taint them again. That’s probably why Bey, and not the Masters
themselves, brought Evergray to life; their power and Evergray’s will be
separate. It will make it easier to keep him in line.”

The
Horseblooded nodded. “It was clever of them to have Evergray created, rather
than entrusting Yardiff Bey with their power.”

“Hell yeah.
He’s too liable to figure out a way to buck them. So, fourth, Evergray’s been
kept in Salamá, almost incommunicado. Wait a minute; is Flaycraft a free-will
type?”

“He is
indentured to Yardiff Bey by his soul.”

“I see. Well,
Evergray’s got this oh-wonderful-me attitude, and he’s getting muley. The
Masters must be nervous; without him they’re stuck, Lifetree or no Lifetree.
But once they put on their new godhood they’ll be in absolute command. And
maybe that’s why they really want him to have free will. Without it, they
haven’t got a slave, just a dummy. And the Masters need their slaves, or how
could they be Masters?”

“Quite
reasonable.”

“Our wild
card is Evergray. He’s already gotten some of their force; he’s got this aura,
like electricity.” He saw Dunstan didn’t know the word. “He almost looks—No,
no, he
is;
Dunstan, he’s
bigger!
When he came here that first
time after I woke up, that crown thing he wears almost brushed the passageway
ceiling. But this time, when he called me out from the corridor, he was
hunkering down to look in. And the crown itself is tighter now. He’s grown!”

“Swollen with
his legacy, you mean?”

“Oh, and get
this: He stopped the Berserkergang.”

“Impossible.
It may be shortened, but not Dismissed. The Rage isn’t possession, but rather a
venomous side of the individual taking over. It is a susceptibility, not an
affliction.”

“Tell that to
Evergray. He flipped his hand at me and stopped the fit dead.”

“That is
prepotency indeed, which even the deCourteneys couldn’t match. His prepotency
comes upon him now.”

“Yeah, he’s
changing fast. We may not have much time.”

“It is my
fear, my friend, that we have none at all.”

Gil made a
thorough inspection of their cell, but found no opening or seam to it, even
where he knew the passageway must be. The walls offered no hand- or footholds,
so he never got to climb high enough to see just what, kind of arrangement the
cone of light was. He presumed there was ventilation of some kind, but that it,
too, was out of reach.

Monotony set
in. Now Gil began stalking around and around their chamber, working arms and
legs, doing sets of exercises from sheer frustration. Then the two would
re-dissect what they knew of their situation. After a time the American would
eat, nap, and begin again.

“In taking
our pleas to Evergray,” the Horseblooded pointed out, “you will encounter one
obstacle over and over: Yardiff Bey.”

“That’s it.
Bey’s smarter than I am, smoother than I’ll ever be. For everything I say he’ll
have twenty counterattacks and rebuttals.”

“Unless,” the
Wild Rider proposed, “you make no declarations.”

“Huh? Oh, you
mean just use questions, right? I dunno though; I’m no shrink.”

“There exists
no alternative.”

“Just one,
and that’s jumping Flaycraft when he comes in. If you get his attention for a
second, maybe I could put him away. I don’t think he’ll be looking for it.”

“His sort
always expects violence. And he is more dangerous than you think. More; even
though our words have been soft, they may yet have been overheard.”

“But it’s the
only other way out.”

Dunstan
didn’t reply. Gil knew he was thinking about the utter solitude he’d have to
endure again. “Dunstan, we’ve got to go with what we’ve got. When that
passageway opens again and Evergray comes through, call out to him. Make a
racket.”

The
Horseblooded sounded despondent for the first time. “Very well. But sit and
rest; it may be some time.”

Gil sat near
the spot where the passageway would open. He felt alert and strong again. He’d
only planned to relax, too keyed up to rest, but somewhere along the line he
fell asleep.

Dunstan’s
warning snapped him awake. “Gil, beware.” The passageway opened again. Gil
waited to one side, balanced, hands and feet ready. Evergray’s voice echoed
loudly from the corridor. Gil went warily.

This time
there was no doubt that the Scion of Salamá was metamorphosing into his new
form. He was two feet taller than he’d originally been, and his eyes were
blazing crosscurrents of red and white. He was surrounded by a crackling
aurora, and the crown-helmet was very nearly a perfect fit.

“I have come
into much of my legacy,” he told the American. “Soon I will receive that last
and greatest measure. But I wish to hear you respond to my questions.” They
went again to the balcony to look at the Fane of the Masters. Evergray wanted
to watch it as he awaited the command to join the Five for the final time.

“Mortal, what
have you to tell me about the free will? Yardiff Bey has said your claim to it
is false, and you, too, are moved helplessly by events. But I think you have
free will. Is there any value to it that you can mention?”

“One or two;
it’s a mixed blessing. But think for a minute. Is there any other facet of
yourself they want you to abandon?”

“None. My strength
and intellect, my imagination and perceptions are to remain my own.”