Heights of the Depths (25 page)

“I don’t fear him,” said Jepp. She had had a lifetime of experience of adjusting readily to shifting circumstances, and this was no exception. “I don’t know him. How can I fear something I don’t know?”

“Not knowing is typically what causes it, actually.”

“Does he have a name?”

“If he has a name that he calls himself, none know it. There is a name that others have for him. He is called…” He hesitated as if concerned that simply speaking the name could prompt some manner of disaster. “…Liwyathan.”

“Liwyathan.” She rolled the name around in her mouth. “It is an impressive name. It is filled with majesty and fear and…and…” She paused. “…sounds.”

“It is said that it is an approximation of the squawks of terror made by the very first creatures that beheld him. He is old beyond old. On this sphere alone, he has resided for over a million cycles around the sun.”

“Over a million?” She could scarcely conceive of the number, much less the actual amount of time it represented. “That’s impossible. Isn’t that impossible?”

“Obviously not, considering that you are riding on him.”

“I can’t argue with that,” said Jepp, who actually could have but felt it wasn’t exactly appropriate considering her present circumstances. “How did you come to…? I mean, is he your…your friend?”

“I have a connection to him,” said Gorkon. “I cannot explain it in anything approaching definitive terms. There are some who claim that Liwyathan is the wellspring from which all Markene are descended. That he is our common ancestor, and thus we have the closest relation to him. It could be that he was waiting for us to rediscover him, and that I was the one who happened to reconnect with him. There is no way to say for certain, though. Liwyathan keeps his own council.”

“Well…I think he’s sweet.”

“Sweet?” Gorkon was incredulous. “Of all the terms used to describe the Liwyathan over all the countless generations of our kind who have known him, I feel safe in saying that ‘sweet’ was never one of them.”

“I’ll take my victories, however small, wherever I can get them.” She patted the surface beneath her. “Thank you, Liwyathan.” She looked to Gorkon. “Does he know I did that? Does he understand?”

“Hard to say. As I said, he keeps his own council. He has a very slow thought process, and it is not always easy to get his attention or—more significantly—hold it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...I’m just hoping that the Liwyathan remembers not to submerge.”

“Submer—?” Jepp was suddenly nervous. “You mean he could forget that I’m up here and just…you know…go underwater?”

“There is that possibility. But worry not. I will be right here with you.” He paused and then added, almost as an afterthought, “unless I forget to breathe. For my kind, breathing is not something that happens automatically. We have to remind ourselves to do it. So if I were accidentally to die or some such mishap, then you would be on your own and the Liwyathan could forget and, well…” He smiled. “But the chances of that happening are incredibly small.”

“But not impossible.”

“Jepp…consider where you are and what you’re doing. I think you have to admit that nothing is impossible.”

She pictured her salvation sinking beneath the waves while a dead Gorkon floated nearby. “I guess I do,” she said, even as she wondered if she might not have been better off just taking her chances with drowning.

firedraque hall, Perriz

I.

Every day when Evanna awoke,
 she approached it with unstinting optimism. She prayed that this would be the day her father would be returned to her safely. I will expect nothing save for the unexpected, was her mantra. She said it in the morning of the day that lay before her, and she repeated it in the evening in regards to the next day.

Yet for all her lack of expectation, certainly the sight that stood before her was beyond the furthest edge of the unanticipated.

A group of weary Ocular and a single, rather imperious-looking Piri, all of them covered with the dirt of the road, were standing in front of her. They looked exhausted, even numb. They were ringed by a Mandraque patrol with Gorsham standing at the forefront. It was purely cosmetic; if the Ocular had been of a mind to bring Firedraque Hall down around their ears, they would have been able to do so and the Mandraques would not have been able to prevent it. Fortunately for all concerned, they didn’t look as if they were in the mood for a fight.

“Sanctuary?” she said, fighting to keep the astonishment from her voice. Evanna glanced toward Xeri, who was standing a short distance away and looked no less amazed. When he noticed she was looking to him, he shrugged as if to say that he had no more idea of what to make of this than she did. She walked in a slow circle around them, as if she might have a better understanding of them from behind or perhaps to the side. “You want sanctuary here in Perriz?”

“That was our hope,” said the Piri, who had been introduced as Clarinda. She sounded bone-weary but she maintained her poise. This alone was surprising to Evanna because she was accustomed to thinking of the Piri as no different than the small vermin she routinely saw skittering around the hall and occasionally feasted upon when she was in the mood.

“Are you—?” She paused, unable to believe the questions she was asking. “Are you in charge of this assemblage?”

The Piri smiled mirthlessly. “I have taken them under my wing. Our association has been one of mutual protection.”

“They are Ocular, far larger and stronger than you. Larger and stronger than nearly anyone else. I am not exactly sure what you bring to this association.”

“You may find it difficult to believe, but these Ocular are considerably young for their race. And I am somewhat older for mine. We Piri tend to have rather brief life spans.”

“I was unaware of that,” Xeri spoke up. “Is that a happenstance of your biology?”

“No. When others are not killing us, we tend to kill each other.”

“Cutting short your lives is certainly something to which the Mandraques can relate,” said Evanna drily. Gorsham made an annoyed face but she ignored it. “Although providing sanctuary to the Ocular is not a problem, your presence certainly poses something of a difficulty. My people are no more trusting of Piri than is any other race on the Damned World.”

“I am not asking for your trust,” said Clarinda. “Merely your tolerance. I assure you I am not here to cause any trouble. I am simply looking for a home since I am no longer welcome in mine.”

“Why is that?”

“I had a disagreement with my mother, the Mistress of our kind.”

“What manner of disagreement?”

“She wanted to make me into something I am not.”

“And what would that be?”

“Her,” she said.

Evanna’s eyes narrowed as she stopped circling the group and walked slowly toward Clarinda. “There is something else. Something you are hiding. And before you deny it,” she continued quickly, cutting off Clarinda before she could offer protest, “consider that hiding the truth from someone whose trust you are requesting is not the best way to go about gaining that trust.”

Clarinda seemed to be thinking long and hard about what Evanna was saying. She met Evanna’s eyes for a time and then cast her gaze downward, at which point Evanna was certain that the next words she was going to hear would be the truth.

“I am with child,” she said so quietly that it was difficult to hear her, “and the father is not of my race.”

There were startled mutterings, some whispered and some less so, from everyone surrounding them. Only the Ocular did not appear startled. Either she had already told them, or else there was simply nothing she could say that would diminish their loyalty to her. That alone spoke volumes to Evanna. One of the Ocular, a smallish (by their standards) female, put an arm around Clarinda protectively.

Xeri drew near Evanna and said under his breath, “Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.” Evanna nodded in agreement. “What do you think?”

“I am not even close to being able to answer that question.” Returning to her normal conversational tone, she said, “Of what race is the father?”

“I am not going to tell you that,” said Clarinda. “There are some matters I should be able to keep close to my heart. And if privacy is the price for residing in Perriz, then I will urge my good friends here to remain for safety’s sake but I will take my leave.”

“As will we,” said the female Ocular, and others echoed her sentiments.

“Threatening to leave,” Evanna observed, “when no one asked you to come here in the first place is hardly what one would call a potent threat.”

Xeri stepped forward and spoke in a stentorian manner, as if he were addressing people residing in another country. “Evanna will give full consideration to your request,” he said. “And once she has pondered the many aspects and ramifications of this particular situation, she will render her decision.”

“They can stay.”

Looking caught off guard, Xeri gaped at her. Then, with the same tone of voice, seemingly trying to sound as if he were delivering news that they were unaware of, he announced, “She has decided you can stay.”

“All of us?” said the female Ocular pointedly.

“Yes. All of you.”

Several of the Ocular visibly sighed in relief, and a couple of them sagged against each other as if they needed the support. It underscored for Evanna just how utterly exhausted the lot of them were, and how they had been fighting desperately to keep body and soul together. She suspected that if she had informed them they had to depart, they might well have tried to do so but collapsed before they reached the city limits. Despite the oddity of what she was faced with, she felt a deep sense of empathy for them that she couldn’t help but feel was misplaced. The majority of them were Ocular, a race that certainly was not without sin when it came to matters of war. And the Piri were notorious parasites, bloodsuckers who posed a threat to all races including, apparently their own. Yet here they had come together for whatever reason—necessity, desperation. And they had managed to work together for their mutual survival. They had even formed bonds of friendship. Was that not the very sort of philosophy that the Firedraques had been preaching? It had been the bellicose nature of the Twelve Races that had gotten them banished from the Elserealms in the first place. Who was she, Evanna, to second guess or reject beings who were fulfilling the fundamental tenets of Firedraque philosophy? On what basis could she do such a thing? Because she was respulsed by the Piri? Then she would be allowing herself to succumb to the same sort of bias and hostility that created so much strife in the world.

All of that went through her mind in moments, serving to reinforce the decision that she had made instinctively. “For the time being,” she said, “you will stay here. Xeri,” and she indicated him with a sweep of her arm, “will find space for you. Most of the rooms are not exactly constructed to accommodate someone of your…proportions…but we will do our best to provide for you. Certainly if nothing else, you can take your ease and converse and even sleep in the main hall. The ceiling is so high that even such as you cannot scrape your heads upon it.”

Clarinda bowed in a stately manner and said, “You have my eternal thanks.” The other Ocular made similar noises of gratitude, a number of them imitating Clarinda’s bow. Evanna bobbed her head in response and Xeri, after giving her a final, slightly incredulous look, led them away.

Gorsham moved toward Evanna and waited until the others had been led away before speaking. “I honestly do not know how the Five Clans are going to react to this.”

“React to what? Giving sanctuary to those who ask for it?”

“Allowing such creatures as a Piri to take up residence in Perriz. What if she cannot control her bloodlust? What if one of my people is found drained of blood with puncture wounds in his or her neck?”

“Then,” Evanna said patiently, “it will be patently obvious who the perpetrator of the crime is, since we are dealing with precisely one Piri. At which point she will then be killed for her crime.”

“But one of my people will still be dead!”

“Which means you would be minus one Mandraque who was so inept that he couldn’t defend himself against a single Piri.”

Gorsham considered that and then shrugged. “There is something to be said for that, I suppose. Still, I am naturally going to inform Arren of this development.”

“That is as it should be,” Evanna said approvingly. “And for what it is worth, Gorsham, should the Piri turn on us, I will personally hold her still while you take her head off with a sword. Will that satisfy you?”

He bowed deeply. “You are too kind.”

“Yes. I know.”

ii.

Clarinda lay down upon the
 mattress that had been arranged for her on the floor of the chambers assigned her. The chamber itself was filled with all manner of iconography that meant nothing to her. There were illustrations of a long-haired, bearded Mort who appeared to be suffering greatly, splayed upon a cross. Obviously he was some sort of vicious criminal and the Morts simply could not get enough illustrations of watching him die. There were also a couple of statues of a female Mort smiling down at an infant in the universal imagery of mother and child. Clarinda supposed that perhaps the man on the cross had murdered the mother and child and that was the crime for which he was being punished. It made sense. “If that is the case, bastard had it coming,” she said to herself.

“I’ve often thought much the same.”

She was startled by the voice, and that in and of itself was surprising to her. She was generally more attuned to the world around her and was not easily startled. Clarinda immediately bounded to her feet into a protective stance, her teeth bared against a possible attack.

A Mandraque whom she had not seen before was leaning in the door, his arms folded. He was not particularly big, but his chest was a bit puffed up, seemingly filled with confidence. He was the type of individual who swaggered even when he was standing still.

“Presuming,” he continued, “he is a bastard, that is. I still have not ruled out the possibility that his job was to keep birds out of the crops. You can relax, by the way. I am not here to attack you.”

“How can I be certain?”

“Because if I were here to attack you, I would wait until daytime when you were asleep and dispatch you.”

“Is that how the mighty Mandraques slay their enemies? In their sleep?”

“It could be argued that you are not an enemy, but simply an invading vermin, to be accorded the exact same level of respect.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Your phrasing is careful. You say, ‘It could be argued’ without giving any indication of your own allegiance.”

“My allegiance is to the Five Clans,” he said, “and the matters that are of interest to them. Frankly, I do not see how a single Piri and a platoon of Ocular are going to fall into that category.”

Clarinda regarded him thoughtfully. “But we may be of interest to you?”

“You may be.” He bowed slightly. “I am Arren Kinklash, son of Arjon, and leader of the Five Clans.”

“Clarinda Redeye, daughter of…” She paused and then shrugged. “None.”

“You must be someone’s daughter.”

“Not anymore.”

He chose not to pursue the comment.

In the brief, ensuing silence, Clarinda stepped in. “You have not answered me. You have something in mind. You want to make use of them. Or of us.”

“I am curious as to why you would say that.”

“Because one parasite can always recognize another.”

Arren laughed at that. His laugh came out as a sort of soft,
 repeated hiss. “Is that what you think? That I am so very much like you?”

“I do not know about ‘so very much,’ but I perceive general similarities.” She folded her arms and stood there, waiting with as much patience as she could muster. “Do you wish to waste more of my time, or yours for that matter? Although admittedly I’m less concerned about the latter.”

“I have no desire to waste anyone’s time.”

“Then what—?”

“Actually, I am somewhat interested in finding use for someone else’s time. Specifically, your young associates.”

“The Ocular?” She frowned. “Of what possible interest could they be to you?”

“They might be of use to me.”

“In what regard?”

“A…” He paused and then smiled. It was an expression that Clarinda considered to be disconcerting; the look of a predator who was smiling because he has just seen prey and is anticipating the devouring of it. She knew the look all too well. She had seen it any number of times on the face of the Piri. It could well be that Arren and she were more alike than even she had originally thought they were. “A small quest, as it were.”

“A quest?”

“A journey seeking an answer or some manner of goal.”

“Yes, I know what a quest is,” she said impatiently. “I am not a fool.”

“I did not say you were.”

“No, but you may well have thought it if you believe that I would simply turn the Ocular over to you.”

His tail twitched slightly, which was the only outward display of his irritation at her tone. “You are not their mother, milady, no matter how this—bizarre—relationship you have with them may have developed. You are what you are, and they are what they are.”

“And what are they, pray tell?”

Arren closed the distance between them with several quick steps. When he spoke she was reasonably sure she could smell the odor of some recently dead rodent on his breath. “They are warriors, milady. They have the fire of war in their veins.”