The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (11 page)

"You use
Shissar to heal."

"Yes, but it
has many uses. Too many to tell you all of them."

"So you can
control anything you want?" she asked.

"Yes."

"The
weather?"

Chanter nodded.
"Ashmar."

"The
trees?"

"Dolana."

"The
animals?"

Chanter set
aside his empty bowl. "Everything. Animals are controlled by the
Power in which they dwell, Dolana for beasts, Ashmar for birds and
Shissar for fish."

"What about
Crayash?"

"No animal
dwells in fire."

"You could do
anything then?" Talsy asked. "Make the mountains explode, the
oceans run over, the earth open and swallow cities."

Chanter nodded,
his eyes twinkling. "If I wanted to."

"That makes
you... a god."

The Mujar threw
back his head and laughed so hard he fell off the rock and sprawled
in the snow. Talsy grinned, infected by his mirth, which he made no
attempt to control. He said, "I knew that was coming."

"But it does!"
she asserted. "You could rule the world!"

Chanter laughed
even harder. "I don't want to rule the world!"

"Why not?"

"Why would
I?"

She shook her
head. "For power, for glory! To right all the wrongs and make it a
better place."

"That's
impossible."

"Why?"

"No one can
eradicate all wrong doings, nor bend every person to his will,
except a god, which I'm not."

Talsy thumped
the snow. "You could! If they didn't obey you, you just make the
earth swallow them."

"Oh yes, that
would make me very popular." He chuckled. "And soon there'd be no
one left." His gaiety died, and he sat up. "How can a sweet girl
like you be so bloodthirsty?"

"I'm not," she
protested, then frowned. "It would be for their own good, to stop
all the silly wars and crime. Like the Black Riders. You could wipe
them out."

The Mujar
sighed. "It wouldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm
not a god, and I can't kill."

"Can't or
won't?" she demanded.

"Both. Death is
the province of Marrana, Lady of Death, and I don't control it. You
see, she really is a goddess, as is Antanar, Lord of Life."

Talsy snorted.
"They don't exist. There's only one god."

"That's your
god, who dwells wherever you come from," he said. "But these are
mine. I've seen Marrana."

"How can you
see a god?"

He smiled. "If
you believe your deductions, you're sitting next to one."

She ignored his
teasing. "When did you see her?"

"On my clan's
killing fields."

"What did she
look like?"

"A mist, a
face... Three faces, actually."

Talsy
considered that, struck by the strangeness of the Mujar's earlier
statement. "Why did you say, 'wherever I come from'?"

Chanter's brows
rose. "You don't come from this world. Don't you know that?"

"Then where do
we come from?"

He shrugged. "I
don't know."

"Then how do
you know we don't belong here?"

"Because you're
different."

"How?"

"You don't fit
in." He looked pensive. "How can I explain? Every living thing of
this world relates to it, see? Every creature feels the Powers and
can use them, but you don't, and nor do your animals. Your people
don't belong here."

She stared at
him. "How long have we been here?"

"I don't
know."

"How did we get
here?"

"You came in a
wingless silver bird that fell from the sky, and my gods remade you
and your beasts."

Talsy shook her
head in confusion. "But you saw your Goddess of Death on your
clan's killing fields. What was she doing?"

"Gathering
souls."

"The souls of
my people, who don't belong here."

He nodded.
"What choice does she have?"

"She could
leave them here."

"That would
probably cause problems."

"What does she
do with them?"

"They go to the
Lake of Dreams." He paused, eyeing her, then added, "The silver
bird brought five hundred and thirty-seven Trueman souls here, as
well as several less evolved souls. The gods could have destroyed
them, but they decided to give them a chance and recreated the
forms in which they lived, putting many of them into animals, which
they learnt about from the souls' memories. Souls multiply when
they leave their corporeal bodies, sloughing off sparks that then
start new lives as simple animals. They rest in the Lake of Dreams
until they're reborn."

"A
paradise?"

"Something like
that."

Talsy stared
into space for several minutes while she pondered this.

Chanter waited,
studying her, then broke into her reverie. "Have I answered all
your questions?"

She shook her
head. "You don't have all the answers."

"That's because
I'm not a god."

"You're a
demigod then. Certainly to me you are."

He smiled.
"Well, just don't expect me to tear down the mountains or part the
seas, and certainly not solve all the problems of the world."

"Why not?"

"Because I
can't. I mean, I could tear down the mountains, but I wouldn't want
to, but I can't solve the problems of the world."

"Because you
won't kill?"

"Yes, if
killing is the answer."

"It seems to me
that Mujar are very gentle people," she said. "To have so much
power, and yet refuse to use it violently, even when you're
tortured and thrown into the Pits, must be hard. My father told me
that you'll never harm a person, and he hates your kind."

"Your father's
wrong. Mujar can do great harm, very easily. Too easily, in fact.
The mere manifestation of our power can frighten Truemen, as it did
you. But we try not to do harm."

"How do you
know so much about the silver bird and everything? Who told
you?"

He looked
puzzled. "No one."

"Then how do
you know about it?"

He shrugged. "I
just do."

"You mean you
were born with it?"

"I suppose so."
He rose and added more wood to the fire, apparently losing interest
in the conversation. Darkness surrounded them, and Talsy yawned
behind her hand.

Chanter turned
to her. "Better let me fix that ankle."

She had almost
forgotten the painful joint, but as soon as he reminded her, it
ached. She cocked her head and smiled. "Do I deserve a Wish?"

"No, this is
part of the clan bond. Within a clan, small favours are earned with
comforts. There's no need for a Wish. As I recall, you asked for
help and transportation as the clan bargain, and this is help.
Protection was your Wish."

"What's the
difference?"

He sighed. "Not
a lot, except I can break clan bond at any time, but not until your
Wish of protection has been fulfilled."

"So if I never
need your protection..."

He shot her a
smile. "That's unlikely, or I wouldn't have granted it."

Chanter healed
her ankle, and she wondered afresh at this strange man who would
not lift a finger to save a person in trouble. Afterwards, she
crawled into the tent, where he joined her for a while to share his
warmth, propped up on one elbow as before, and she fell asleep
snuggled close to him. She woke later alone, and waited for his
return. Each time he was there when she fell asleep, and in the
morning she woke to find him lying beside her. He did not stay
long, and it seemed that her longing for greater intimacy was
doomed, since he could only spend a short while lying on the
ground.

Chapter Six

Two days later,
they entered the lowlands' warmer climes. Broad belts of woodland
dissected rolling meadows that herds of grazing beasts populated.
An occasional herder's hut stood at the edge of a forest, smoke
curling from its chimney, but for the most part the land was wild.
Wagons and horsemen traversed the roads, so Chanter avoided
them.

In the middle
of the third day, a sprawling city came into sight ahead, on the
banks of a mighty brown river. A chequerboard of cultivated fields
surrounded it, divided by low stone walls and tended by brown-clad
peasant farmers. Chanter stopped, and Talsy slid from his back,
pulling off the bag. A surge of Earthpower transformed him back
into a man, and he gazed at the city.

"I'm not going
in there," he said.

"We need a
bridge to get to the other side," she pointed out. "And besides, I
have to buy provisions. I can hunt for meat, but we need flour,
salt, sugar and tea."

He shook his
head. "I don't need a bridge, nor do I need to be beaten and spat
on, then thrown into a Pit."

"But I may need
your protection."

Chanter eyed
her. "Why would you need protection in a city?"

"There are
thieves and... bad men. It isn't safe for a woman to travel alone
in a city."

He glanced at
the sky, reminding her of his wild inclinations, and her father's
words returned to haunt her.

"You could
become the stallion. Who would know?"

"Everyone. The
woman in the woods wasn't fooled, was she?"

"You can't
change your eyes, can you?"

He shook his
head.

"Surely they
can't harm you? You can simply fly away if they try."

"I might not
see them coming."

Talsy sighed
and gazed at the greatest obstacle they had yet encountered. Her
people, a dire threat. An idea came to her. "What about if you came
as a bird and watched over me from the sky? Then you'd be
safe."

He looked
uneasy. "Not from arrows."

"Don't leave
me," she pleaded.

"If they catch
me, they'll throw me in a Pit."

"I won't let
them. I'd rescue you somehow."

The Mujar did
not appear to hear her. "The Pits are living death. We can't escape
them, nor can we die."

Tears stung her
eyes. "Even if I had to come down there after you, I wouldn't let
you stay in a Pit."

He looked
startled. "You'd do that?"

She nodded,
unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

Chanter said,
"I've granted you the Wish of protection, so I'll come as a
bird."

Talsy wanted to
hug him. He had not intended to leave her, only voiced his doubts.
He picked up the bag and set off towards the city, keeping his eyes
down. When the people they encountered on the road gave him hard
looks, he stopped and dumped the bag.

"I shouldn't go
any closer. There was a time when Mujar could live in the cities,
but not anymore."

"Okay."

"I'll see you
on the other side. I'll be watching."

Again she
fought the urge to hug him. He took a few light steps and leapt
into the air. The rush of wind raised a dust cloud, and the sound
of beating wings filled air, then a raven winged away into the blue
sky. Talsy watched until he was a dot against the heavens, picked
up the bag and trudged towards the city.

Passing through
the gates, she entered a bustling, dirty place charged with vile
smells and raucous noise. After the sweet, clean freedom of the
quiet forest, Talsy resented the pushing people who thronged the
streets and the cries of hawkers who waved their wares at her and
pushed their leering faces close. She shuddered away from the
unsavoury goodies they offered, swept along by the rude crowd.
Puddles of filth made the footing treacherous. Animal dung and
urine mixed with slops thrown from the houses. Beggars clutched her
sleeve and whined, well-dressed people pushed her aside.

Stopping at a
marketplace set in a garbage dump of rotting unsold wares, she
bought what she needed with a few of her meagre collection of
coins. Her stomach rumbled as she hurried past inns whence the
savoury smells of stew and roasting meat emanated, eager to be free
of the city and reach the far side of the river. For a girl born
and raised in the country, the town was a nightmare of overcrowding
and squalor, a dirty maze of twisted streets lined with dilapidated
houses, skinny children playing in the gutters.

Arriving at a
broad bridge built from mighty timbers, she started across, then
stepped back in confusion when two spear-toting guards blocked her
path. One leered at her and thrust his unshaven face close.

"This is a toll
bridge, woman. You got the money?"

She shook her
head. "How do I cross?"

He gestured
with his rusty weapon. "Use one of the others. Some are free."

The narrow
alley he indicated ran upstream beside the river. Her good sense
told her to stay in the busy thoroughfare, however.

The guard
winked at her. "You could make payment in kind."

Talsy recoiled
from his revolting invitation and hurried down the alley. Sagging
shanties bordered it, and the stench of urine and human manure made
her queasy. Skinny dogs foraged in the rubbish, and rats squeaked
and scurried along the edges. Crippled, filthy beggars, no more
than bundles of stinking rags with outstretched claw-like hands,
clutched at her as she passed. Feral children watched her with
empty eyes, their ragged clothes revealing swollen bellies and
twisted limbs. She wondered why the city folk, who reviled Mujar
for refusing to help them, did not care if their own people starved
and suffered in this terrible place. Why should Mujar help those
who would not even help each other?

Reaching a
dilapidated bridge, she headed for it, but a gang of beggars
blocked her way, hands outstretched.

"Toll! Pay
toll!" they cried, jumping into her path when she tried to sidestep
them.

Ignoring her
protests, they persisted until she gave up and carried on along the
alley in search of a bridge that neither soldiers nor beggars
claimed. Further on, she came to a rude barricade that forced her
to turn into a side street leading away from the river. At the next
junction, she entered a narrow road running parallel to the spate,
and searched for a way back to the bank. The alleys twisted and
turned in a fiendish maze, and she soon realised that she was lost.
She looked up at the rows of crows that lined the rooftops,
preening and calling harshly. If only she had wings.