Slow Turns The World (24 page)

They left Matrodar at the next time of waking.  As they followed the lake northwards the sky lightened and the stars faded until they were gone.  At last, on a hilltop road, the beams of sunlight warmed them once more and finally, three moons after they had left, they entered the gates of Etoradom.   Alasam greeted them and exchanged the same coded message with His Lordship.

“Is all well with the household?”

“All are well, Lord.”

Graselle waited in the kitchen, belly full swollen, for her summons to come.  Those around could tell that she wanted nothing more than to run to His Lordship's arms, and Torrin guessed that this was his desire too.  But all was done correctly, Graselle stayed where she was while His Lordship leafed through papers that had gathered in his absence.  Only when the time of sleeping came did he ask, as if it were some trifling thing, that she be sent for.   She climbed the stairs joyously, as fast as her condition allowed, and vanished into his chamber.

They passed a few cycles of waking and sleeping.  Torrin accompanied His Lordship along the hidden passages within the spoke walls and they looked out over the city from the slits and peepholes.  There was no open preaching of heresy or insurrection, but as huddled groups debated and argued with lowered voices, they would often cast a glance, nervous or hateful, towards their unseen watchers.   There was a rumour amongst the priesthood that a radical new heretic was preaching and healing in the city; he they called the Hunter.   Torrin’s deepest dread, that they would find themselves watching or arresting Valhad became a haunting fear.  But Alasam and Marasil did their task well, guiding and protecting Valhad when he went to the city, spiriting him away from those devotees who would follow his every step.

His Lordship had a late council in the Tower and was not expected back.  Torrin returned from the college, bruised and stiff from staff blows.  He called for Valhad but no answer came and then he found Marasil with a cloak draped around her.

“Protector,” she said, “You were not expected back so soon.”

“A man can take only so many hits with a stick.  Where is Valhad?”

Marasil shifted uncomfortably.

“Already gone to the city,” she said.

“On his own?”

She nodded sullenly, “he knows the place of gathering, and that many await him there.  He did not wait for me.”

“I will go with you,” said Torrin.

“It is not where His Lordship's protector should be.”

“Nor any of his household. Find me a cloak.”
 

They passed into the city and then walked cloaked and hooded.  Marasil led through a maze of narrow alleys far from the gaze of the many eyes within the spoke walls.  A coded tap on a plain door and a nervous gatekeeper admitted them.  Winding stairs led down to a large cellar chamber lit by candles where many people stood in rapt silence listening to the voice of Valhad.

“I am asked many times about death,” Valhad was saying, “and about the judgment of God.  Fear is all around.  Fear for those who believe in dread punishment for their sins, fear for those who have no faith and see an empty darkness waiting to consume them.  I cannot tell you absolutely what is and what is not.  We are but small vessels and this is a truth so great it overflows and cannot be contained.   It is huge beyond all imagining, yet it is no more than a mist that seeps through our fingers when we reach to grasp it in our hand.   It can only truly be told in a language greater than words, for words diminish and distort.  But words are all that I can use and perhaps there will be an echo within you, and for a moment you might catch the mist within your fingers, or see the mountaintop revealed between the clouds.  Let me ask you now, if the world and the sky and the sun had never been made, what would there be?  What should we see here now?”

Some of the listeners shrugged and muttered 'nothing' or 'darkness'.  Valhad paused and nodded before continuing.

“Can darkness exist alone?  Can it ever truly be unless a mind perceives it?  And does that mind know of more than darkness?  Can there be darkness unless there is also light?  It was but a short while ago that I stood in the night of the world and found that it was full of light and I knew at that moment a great truth.  Words fail, words corrupt and deceive, but these few words that came to me speak greater and clearer than any others that can ever be uttered; there is no darkness.”

Valhad said the words with a certainty, with a conviction that was infectious.  Those gathered listened spell-bound, and waited for the sermon to continue.

“But you will ask me, if there is no darkness, if there is no death, then what becomes of us?  Is there heaven?  Are we punished for our sins?   I can only tell you this; that all things in the world shall find balance, all things shall be reconciled in ways that we cannot understand. We are like an ocean that flows and surges with tide and wind; all the actions that we make are ripples on that sea which is never still.  What flows from us, whatever waves we make will return.  And yet we cannot know of this; we cannot see the pattern of current and tide that brings all things to balance.  For can the eyeless creatures that burrow in the dirt ever know what the eagle sees as he soars over the mountaintops?  We are not made to understand these things and when we try to do so we diminish and corrupt that which is greater than we can know.   So it is with the Text, and all the other little stories that have been written about man and God.”

“So how should we worship God?” asked a voice in the crowd when Valhad fell silent.

“God does not want worship.  It is only men who have this need.  My tribe, the Vasagi, do not worship God, but we know that we are blessed with one tiny precious gift from our Maker.  When we strive to know what we should do our custom is to seek solitude and to listen for the quietest voice within.”

“Are you saying that we can talk with God?” asked another listener.

“No.  But are we not made to know one colour from another?  There is another sense within that we do not always use, that many have forgotten, a sense of knowing what is right and wrong…”

Valhad was cut short by a commotion from the staircase.  There was the sound of the door being forced open, of shouts, jingling steel, and running feet.  Many of the listeners turned towards the doorway, others looked desperately this way and that, like trapped animals seeking escape.  The soldiers burst into the room led by a young captain, sword drawn.  Four chain-mailed figures entered behind him and levelled crossbows at the occupants.  The Captain grinned and swaggered, obviously pleased with his intervention.

“So what do we find here? A gathering of more than ten persons; this is forbidden by the Holy Church.  And for what reason do you huddle together here?  I'll make a guess; for heresy, blasphemy and treason.”

“Captain.”  From the ranks of the listeners a cloaked figure stood forward.   Beneath the hood a voice spoke out.

“Captain.  You should know who is already here.”  The cloak dropped to the floor; mail and leather gleamed on the revealed figure.   The crowd murmured uneasily.

“Reverence...” The Captain looked at the uniformed figure before him; a soldier cleric of higher rank than his own.  He saluted and looked uneasy.

“Reverence.  Forgive me.  I had no way to know that their eminencies had set you upon this task.  We were patrolling when we saw suspicious activity at the door above so I ordered the men to force entry and search within.”

“Have you sent word to the tower of your action?”

“Not as yet, Reverence.  Shall I do so now?”

“Hold a moment, Captain.  You have four men and there must be a hundred people here.  Were you wise to do this without first summoning reinforcements?”

“We are armed.  The heretics do not frighten me.  God will protect.”

“Yes, Captain, I believe that He might,” he looked around the room, at the many frightened faces.  “Let us show the Captain how great a force is already gathered here.  Those of the church will now reveal themselves.”

At scattered points around the room cloaks slid aside to reveal uniforms, swords and crossbows.

“You see, Captain, that we are well prepared but your arrival forces us to act sooner than was planned.”   His voice rose to an angry bark.  “All heretics will lie down on the floor. Now!”

Torrin did as he was bid.  Marasil was at his side, sobbing quietly, he reached and took her hand trying to give what comfort he could.  The frightened bodies lay trembling upon the cold slabs, while grouped by the doorway were the soldiers who had burst in; standing scattered around the chamber were those who had been disguised, some now setting bolts upon their crossbows.

“Shall I send word to the tower now, Reverence?” said the Captain looking down disdainfully at the captives.

“No, Captain.  You will send no word.”

The crossbow fired and the bolt buried between the ribs of the Captain.  He fell to his knees clutching the wound, blood pumping out in a dark fountainhead.  As the life drained from him he looked at his superior, at the discharged weapon still pointed towards him with dull-eyed disbelief.  His men died a second later, each accurately skewered as the crossbows fired.

The high-ranking priest looked down grimly on the five bleeding bodies, then turned to address the other soldiers who had unleashed the deadly volley.

“I did not know if any others from the priesthood were here when I ordered you to reveal yourselves.  I thank you for doing so, for all that you did.”

“You were not sent to spy upon us?” asked Torrin as he raised himself cautiously from the floor.

“No.  I am here for the same reason that you are here.  Do you think all priesthood are your enemies?  Change must come.  The old religion that has enslaved us is dying.  What happened here is but a start, there will be much blood on the path ahead.”

They left the meeting place cautiously in small groups while the cleric supervised the burying of the bodies under the flagstones within.  For the first time Torrin sensed how much deeper was the discontent than he had ever guessed.  A storm was coming, with rains of blood, to drench the streets of Etoradom.

A messenger arrived soon after waking; he heard snatches of the conversation with His Lordship.

“Not returned?”

“…from patrolling the south west segment.”

“Have additional patrols sent out.  Ask the populace what was seen.”

The messenger scurried away and Torrin was summoned to His Lordship's study.

“Is there trouble, my Lord?” he asked, face an impassive mask of innocence.

“A patrol of soldiers seems to have been mislaid.  But that is not why I have called you here.”

His Lordship leant back and regarded Torrin silently, just as he had when he was first summoned to his cabin on the ship.

“What do you most want, Vasagi?” He looked over entwined fingers with a hard appraising stare.

“You know well, Lord.  To be free.  To return to my people.  And for Valhad, the same.”

“What would you say if I offered you now all these things?”

“I would ask what I must do in payment.”

“Yes, indeed, and that is what you are here to be told.”  

His Lordship lifted a globe from a shelf behind him and placed it on the table between them.  

“Here, Vasagi, in the north west, where day and night are divided, are a range of mountains that are coming into the light of the sun.  As we speak snow is melting, lakes are gathering, and rivers are beginning to flow again.  One such river begins here, but then flows westwards and passes into the darkness again, where the waters freeze and make dams of ice.  A time comes soon when these dams will be overrun and will break apart; then a great bore of water will flow first south and then back eastwards to join the sea.  The city of Dh’lass stands here, a few curves of the river back from the sea.  Dh’lass has been carried though the darkness and soon will be warmed by the rising sun.  Mountains stand around it and all roads will be blocked with snow.  Only when the bore of water passes, and the ice is broken, only then can the waiting ships sail up-river to the city.”

“And who will be upon these ships, Lord?”

“The emissaries of Nejital.  We know that Hityil has entered darkness and Iranthrir has come out from the burning lands.  Now another great city, Dh’lass, comes from night to morning.  They will be waiting in their ships to unlock the gates and reclaim what they believe to be theirs.  However, our study of the Text reveals to us that Dh’lass is actually the ancient city of Palem, which is ordained by God for his chosen people.  We will therefore make our own claim upon it.  It will be necessary to delay the entry of Nejital until our own representatives arrive to plead our case.”

“And how would this be done, Lord?”

“It would be done by one man; a man skilled in hunting and survival in the wild.  That is why God sent you to me, Vasagi.  You will be given maps, provisions; all that you need.   You will be taken by ship to the port of Hirege.  From there you will journey westwards until you can cross the mountains in the south, and come to the city.  You have twelve moons before the bore passes and the river may be navigated.”

“And if I reach the city, Lordship, how shall I pass the gates?”

“This map shows the location of a cave that gives secret entry to the city.  My predecessors ensured that its opening into the city was not sealed in any way.  You see, this has been our intention for longer than you can imagine.  When you gain entry bar the main gates from within.  When the bore passes make a signal with smoke.  Do not allow any entry into the city until our representatives arrive.  Do this and you are free.  And so is your friend.”

“There is more than you are telling me, Lord.  I will not be a part of any evil, for any price.”

“I do not ask you to harm any man.  Do this thing, do this one thing, and your service here is over.”

“Lord, if I might say, those in the high tower look far and distant in search of power and yet here in your own domain times are troubled; here your grip is loosening.”

“Most perceptive of you, Vasagi.  Be assured though, whatever befalls Etoradom we shall still have rulers, and we shall build an empire.  When revolution casts a shadow, it is time to choose the right side.  And I am a good judge of that, Vasagi.”