Saeng started down the hillock. ‘It doesn’t matter any more.’
She walked among the brush for a time until she stumbled through hanging lianas, leaving a shower of fallen blossoms carpeting the dead leaves. They would disappear quickly, she knew, as the many insects would converge to consume them.
As they shall me soon
.
A rigid grip righted her. ‘
You are delirious
,’ a voice spoke in her thoughts. Arms lifted her then cradled her. She smelled something then: a scent of home. Woodsmoke. She reached for it. Rice steaming on the fire. Fish over the open flames. The arched branches of the high canopy passed her vision as she seemed to float effortlessly. She closed her eyes.
The scent of food woke her. A palm frond roof above. Reed walls. Movement, and an old woman appeared. She held out her hand; something was smeared there. Saeng opened her mouth and the woman pressed her fingers within. Saeng swallowed. She did this many times until sleep took her once more.
She awoke once again and this time she could raise herself on her elbows. She was in a village. A village of Himatan yet not a ghost one. Living and breathing. She was alone in the hut; the old woman was gone. People crossed the open commons the hut faced: they were
mostly
naked, in loin wraps only. Some were painted in smears of coloured mud, male and female; others not. One woman noticed that she was awake and ran off. Moments later an old man thrust his face into the hut. He was painted, but garishly so, with feathers and necklaces of objects she took to be talismans: teeth, bits of metal, chipped stones, talons and a dried paw.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘Awake for certain,’ he remarked. ‘Have you the strength to converse?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Even better.’
‘What happened?’
He shrugged in a rattle of bones and claws. ‘You were ill with fever. Close to death. Your stone servant delivered you to us.’
Saeng sat up straighter. ‘Where is he – the stone servant?’
The old man gestured to the grounds. ‘He stands in the village, unmoving. No doubt he awaits your command.’
Of course. ‘
Hanu? Can you hear me?
’
‘
Saeng! Shall I come?
’
‘
No. I’m all right – thanks to you. How are you?
’
‘
Sufficient
.’
‘
You’ve eaten?
’
‘
Yes. These villagers set out offerings and I ate some. This amused them no end
.’
‘
All right. Well … I’m tired still
.’
‘
Rest
.’
‘
Thank you, Hanu. Thank you for everything
.’
‘
It was nothing
.’
Saeng sat back, relaxing. The old man had watched her throughout. ‘You communicated with your servant?’ he asked.
Saeng saw no reason to explain things; she just nodded.
‘Good. I know these things, you see. I am a great magus.’ He rattled the fetishes about his neck. ‘I command the shades of the dead. I am beloved of Ardata herself.’
‘Is that so.’
‘Oh yes. No doubt this is why your servant brought you to me.’
‘Well, thank you for healing me.’
‘Certainly. My wives are great healers. But enough of that for now. Rest, heal. We shall talk again.’ He disappeared in a clanking and clatter of the engraved stones hung from his neck.
Saeng lay back to regard the roof once more.
Mocking gods … how much time have I wasted? Am I too late? But no – we would
not
even be here if I was too late. Isn’t that so?
It made her head hurt to think of it. She shut her eyes to sleep again.
The next day she felt strong enough to try to get up. The old women who had been tending her rushed to her aid. The magus’s wives, she supposed. And thinking of that – it was they who healed her, not him. She limped out to the central commons to see Hanu there, waiting.
He was sitting cross-legged, meditating perhaps. Before him lay clay bowls of oil, burning incense sticks, and bowls and saucers of rice, stewed vegetables and dried meat.
‘You seem to have made an impression,’ she said, coming up.
‘
These are propitiations intended to appease my anger, apparently
.’
‘Oh? Your anger? They’re afraid of you?’
He hesitated for a time, said, ‘
You are recovering?
’
‘Yes. My leg is well. Weak and painful, but it can support me.’ She studied him. His inlay mosaic of bright stones shone dazzlingly in the light. Much of the light was a deep emerald and she glanced up to see the Visitor hanging there fully visible in the day.
So close! We may have no time!
‘What happened, Hanu? Did you have to twist their arms?’
‘
No, Saeng. It’s that mage, or theurgist, or whatever he is. He claims he stopped me from destroying the village. They’re all terrified of him here
.’
Saeng scanned the collection of ramshackle huts for some sign of the man. ‘I see … Well, not our problem. I’ll rest one more day and then we’ll go. All right?’
‘
Fine
.’
She motioned to the offerings. ‘Wrap up the food. We’ll take it with us.’
‘
I have been
.’ He lifted their one remaining shoulder bag.
‘Thank you, Hanu.’ She hobbled back to her hut.
She sat in the shade at the open entrance. Here, the women, some young, some old, were readying packets of food. Saeng watched for a time, then asked, ‘Are those offerings as well?’
The youngest snapped a look to her and Saeng was surprised to see anger and sour resentment in her eyes. ‘You could say that,’ she said, her voice tight. ‘These go to wild men in the woods. We feed them so that they will not kill our men or rape us. Chinawa made this deal.’
‘Chinawa? Your … husband?’
‘Yes. They killed many men and women but he put a stop to it. All
we
must do is feed them. And now—’ She stopped herself, lowered her gaze.
‘And now you must feed us as well,’ Saeng finished for her. The young woman merely hunched, lowering her head even further. ‘And there is not enough.’
‘There is none!’ she yelled, glaring, tears in her eyes.
The oldest of the women hissed her disapproval. ‘Would you have them burn down our homes? Eat us? Stop your complaining, child.’
Not my problem. If the Visitor should fall everyone will be dead
. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and went to lie down.
That night the mage, Chinawa, came to her. She awoke suddenly from a troubled sleep to find him sitting next to the rattan bedding she lay upon. A single guttering oil lamp cast a weak amber glow in the hut. His eyes were bright in the dark. She sat up and adjusted her frayed skirt and shirt as best she could. ‘What do you want?’
‘Gratitude, for one thing. Were it not for me you would be dead.’
‘I noticed it was the women who healed me – not you.’
The eyes sharpened. ‘On my orders.’
‘They would have acted without your orders, I’m sure.’
The man’s expression hardened into a deep scowl. ‘Do not play haughty with me, young woman. Cooperate and no one will get hurt. I will take you as my wife and with your stone servant I will sweep the wild men from the jungle. After that no one will challenge my rule here.’
Saeng snorted her disbelief. ‘And why should I do that?’
‘Because if you refuse, or use your stone servant to kill me, the wild men will descend upon the village and kill everyone. All the children will have their skulls cracked open against rocks. The women will be raped then stabbed to death. The men will be hunted down and eviscerated and left for the dogs to eat. Do you want these crimes upon your head?’
And if I do not find the Great Temple and prevent the summoning of the Visitor everyone shall die. Do I want
that
upon my head?
She sensed, then, one of the Nak-ta, the restless dead of the region, pressing to make herself heard. She presumed that Chinawa had summoned the spirit to scare her into cooperating. Yet the shades of the dead held no terror for her and so she allowed the small presence to come forward.
The mage did not react as she thought he would. He became quiet and still. He scanned the hut, his eyes growing huge. ‘What is that?’
Saeng stared at the man, surprised. ‘What is what?’
‘That noise!’
Saeng listened and after a time she heard it: faint weeping, as of a young disconsolate girl. She saw her as well and motioned to the opening where a pale wavering shade stood just outside. The weak rain fell through her shape.
Chinawa leaped to his feet, gaping. ‘Noor! A ghost!’ And he jumped out into the rain, his necklaces of stones and claws clattering and rattling, to disappear into the dark.
Saeng watched him go, completely stunned.
By the false gods … A fake. A damned fake
. Then she laughed so hard she hurt her side and had to wipe tears from her eyes. Throughout, the shade, Noor, continued to weep. After her amusement had subsided Saeng turned to her. She appeared a harmless enough Nak-ta, but Saeng raised her protections in any case, as one could never be certain of the dead.
‘Noor, is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why are you weeping?’
‘Because I am dead.’
Saeng bit back a snarled reply. She took a calming breath. Her fault; it had been too long. ‘So, tell me, Noor. How did you die?’
‘Chinawa killed me.’
Saeng jerked her surprise, hurting her leg. Wincing, she rubbed it. ‘Chinawa slew you? Why?’
‘So that he could blame it on the wild men in the jungle.’
Ah. All is becoming clear
.
‘Then there are no wild men.’
‘Yes, there are. I could see them. They were slipping close to death themselves. Sick, hungry and weak.’
‘Then they have killed no one?’
‘Not of this village.’
‘I see. Thank you, Noor. Bless you for your help. Rest. Weep no more.’
The shade of the girl dropped her hands from her face. Saeng thought she must have been pretty. She gave a deep naive curtsy. ‘My thanks. The blessing of the High Priestess is an honour.’ She began to fade away. ‘I go now, released. Thank you.’
Saeng jerked upright. ‘Wait! What do you mean? Come back.’
Shit! High Priestess? What did she mean by that?
She fell backwards, draped an arm across her eyes. Gods! High Priestess? And I can’t even find the damned Great Temple!
By the next morning she knew what she would do. The wives, young and old, offered a large first meal of rice, stewed vegetable roots, and the last of the meat from a trapped wild pig. She took only
the
rice, and this she kept in its broad leaf wrapping. She went out to get Hanu; it was time to go.
She still limped, and by the time she reached Hanu Chinawa had appeared from wherever it was he slunk about. The old man was glowering at her, his gaze flicking from her to Hanu. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ he hissed.
‘We are going.’
‘No, you are not.’ He crept closer, lowering his voice: ‘If you go I’ll bring the wild men in here and they will kill everyone! Do you want that?’
‘No.’
‘
Shall I strangle him?
’ Hanu asked. She signed for him to wait.
She peered about, saw faces peering from huts, people standing about pretending to work, but watching. ‘Listen to me!’ she called loudly. ‘When I lay near death I spoke with the shades of the jungle. They came to me because I command this stone servant.’
Chinawa gaped at her, then eyed the watching villagers.
She raised her arms. ‘Yes, I have communed with the dead and I commanded them not to follow Chinawa’s orders. They will no longer listen to him!’
The old man backed away. He waved his arms frantically. ‘Oh! I see it now!’ he bellowed as if to shout her down. ‘This one is a sorceress! Begone, you seductress! I order you to go now! Leave us good people in peace!’
Oh, for the love of … I can’t believe this!
‘Hanu – grab this wretch.’
Hanu lunged forward. He grasped a fistful of the hanging amulets and talismans and lifted the man from his feet to hang kicking. He squawked and yanked at the countless laces of leather and spun fibres.
‘We go now of our choosing!’ Saeng called. ‘As for the wild men – they are no threat. I have seen them. They are just lost and starving refugees. They no doubt fear you more than you fear them!’
She gestured for Hanu to drop the man. He did so, retaining a handful of broken laces and charms that he threw down upon him. One of the objects caught Saeng’s eye: a stone disc inscribed with the many-pointed star, a sign of the old cult of the Sun. She picked it up while the old man scrambled to his feet. ‘Where did you get this?’ she demanded.
He eyed her while clearly considering saying nothing. Then he shrugged, gesturing vaguely. ‘From one of the old ruins. A place of great power—’
‘Stop pretending to be a warlock, or whatever it is. You are no practitioner.’