The Lair of Bones (21 page)

Gaborn was immediately riveted. Iome glanced up to see his expression. She flipped open a page at random, halfway through the book, and began to read. “‘Then the Fael saith unto me—'”

“What's a Fael?” Gaborn asked.

Iome said flippantly. “Something that saideth things unto Erden Geboren.” She began to read again. “‘Learn to love all men… ‘He can't decide whether to use the word ‘equally' or ‘perfectly.'”

“If you loved all men perfectly,” Gaborn suggested, “wouldn't you love them equally?”

Iome nodded and continued. “‘Do not esteem one man above another. Do not love the rich more than the humble, the strong more than the faint, the kind man more than the cruel. But learn to love all men equally.'”

“Hmmm,” Iome said with a thoughtful look on her face, as if the words disturbed her. She began to close the book.

Gaborn had never heard words like that, had never heard anyone other than a king who dared utter a commandment about how men were to treat each other.

A Fael must be a king among the Bright Ones or glories, he decided. “Keep reading.”

Iome forged ahead with great deliberation. “‘Then asketh I: “How can I love all men with equal perfection?” And the Fael answereth…' “Iome grunted in consternation. “Erden Geboren has got a lot of this blacked out. In part, he seems to say that we learn to love those that we serve, and he writes that ‘Thou must learn to serve each man perfectly.' But he's scrib-bled a note in the margin, asking, ‘How mayest I fixeth'… I think he means ‘fix in people's minds,' ‘that serving a man perfectly meaneth to serve his best…'—I don't know that word—'in defiance of his own wants? For truly some men wanteth that which is evil, and still we are bound to provide them with only that which is good. Those men under sway of the… lo… loci fighteth goodness by rote, never guessing that the minions of the One True Master command them.'”

Gaborn's head spun as if he had been slapped. “Are you sure it says that?” he asked. “The One True Master?”

“It does!” Iome said.

“Is he talking about the reaver queen?” Gaborn asked. Binnesman had suggested that Erden Geboren had been hunting for a particular reaver, one that he called the locus, but neither the wizard nor Gaborn could guess what it might be that he sought.

“It sounds to me,” Iome said, “as if he is talking about something more powerful than a mere reaver.”

Gaborn grunted, wondering. The Days taught that there was only one evil: selfishness, a trait that all men have in common. That seemed a sufficient explanation for evil. After all, who among men does not desire endless wealth, or unfailing health, boundless wisdom, or unending life? Who does not crave the love and admiration of others?

Certainly, such longings are only too human, Gaborn thought, and in themselves, they are not evil. For, as Gaborn's father had once pointed out, a man who craves wealth and is thus driven to greater labors blesses both himself and those around him. The woman who wants wisdom and studies long into the night enriches all that she meets. And often Gaborn wished that he could become the kind of lord who could win the undying affection of his people, because to him it seemed an accurate measure of how well he governed.

It is only when we crave such things so much that we are willing to destroy others to get them, Gaborn told himself, that we engage in evil.

“The One True Master… is what Erden Geboren was hunting when he died,” Gaborn mused. “He prosecuted his war with the reavers for more than a decade. Could it possibly be the same creature we are hunting for now, after so long, or is the name merely a title used by the reavers' lord?”

Gaborn suddenly had some questions for Averan. Could this One True Master have lived for seventeen hundred years? What more could she tell him about it? He looked up the tunnel. She hadn't returned.

“Averan?” Gaborn called. His words echoed through the cave.

There was no answer.

“Averan?” Iome called.

But it was pointless. Gaborn used his Earth Sight, feeling for danger. He sensed her presence, a mile up the tunnel.

“Where is she going?” Gaborn wondered, and panic swept through him, for he sensed where she was going: into danger.

10

A child must lean on faith to guide him because he lacks both the wisdom that comes from experience and the foresight that comes from a mature mind. While some promote faith as a virtue, I prefer wisdom and foresight.

—
Mendellas Draken Orden

Averan had left the camp with her mind in a muddle. She felt a keen sense of worry, and it grew with every minute. The Consort of Shadows was on their trail, and she knew that he would never leave them alone.

Right now, Averan suspected that he would be waiting for them to return back up the cave. Most likely he would dig a hole somewhere along the tunnel, bury himself and hide with nothing but one or two philia above the ground.

Given its reputation as a hunter, Averan doubted that even Gaborn could evade the Consort of Shadows forever.

Their only hope was to find another reaver tunnel, one that led deep into the warrens. And the prospect seemed slim. The Waymaker had never been in this shaft, and Averan felt lost.

For a while she walked alone with her worries. They were getting deeper into the Underworld. The air felt warm and heavy. With the warmth, king's crown began to adorn the walls; it was a bright yellow fungus that slowly grew from a central infestation, then died out in the middle, leaving a golden halo that slowly spread. In the distance Averan heard a strange sound.

She stopped. It sounded almost like the throaty purr of a large cat.

There can't possibly be cats down here, can there? she wondered. But there were blindfish and crabs and other animals that lived aboveground. It seemed remotely possible that a cat might live down here, too.

There are lots of strange things in the Underworld. But none of the reavers she'd eaten had ever seen a cat.

Averan proceeded cautiously to a bend, peeked around. Several cave lizards, like bloated newts, squatted beside a small pool, and were sputtering at one another loudly, as if by doing so they could claim a prize. They sounded almost as if they were purring.

Keeper had known of these lizards. They would dig holes and live in soft mud. Their flavor was mushy and tasteless. Yet despite Keeper's vast lore, the reaver had never heard their songs.

Averan walked near them. The lizards spun their blind heads toward her, listening, and then leapt into the pool.

Just past them, the old riverbed ended. Hundreds of smaller tunnels, each as narrow as a wolf den, riddled the stone walls where crevasse crawlers, like giant millipedes, had burrowed into the soft stone. The constant tunneling of crawlers had weakened the cave, collapsing the roof.

The only way past is through the holes, Averan realized. But going into one of those narrow holes was risky. Crevasse crawlers could grow to be fifty feet long, and they were carnivores.

The crawler's tunnels could extend for miles. I'll need to find a way through, Averan thought. She imagined how proud Gaborn would be when he learned that she had scouted a path for them.

Shaking, Averan went to the nearest hole, sniffed at it. Nothing. It smelled only of the local stone and feather fern. No crevasse crawlers had been in it for ages.

At the third hole, she detected the musk odor of crawler eggs, and immediately backed away. At the twelfth hole, shefinallyfound what she was looking for, the vague scent of
different
air blowing up through a passage. Either the hole led to a reaver tunnel or it would give her access to another cave.

Averan hesitated. She studied the burrow. She could crawl through it, but could Gaborn and the others?

Yes, she decided, with some work.

She climbed on her tiptoes and peered in. The burrow was just broad enough so that she could crawl upright without difficulty.

Which means that the crevasse crawler that dug this tunnel is big
enough to swallow me whole, Averan realized. I shouldn't do this. Gaborn would be mad.

But Gaborn was waiting for his fish to cook. What if the reavers came after him? He'd be looking for an escape route fast. He was counting on her to lead the way.

Yes, I should do this, Averan told herself. By scouting the path, I could save the party valuable time.

“Averan?” Gaborn called from back up the tunnel. “Wait!” She stopped, heart pounding.

She turned and watched back up the tunnel. Soon, lights reflected from the walls, announcing Gaborn's arrival.

He came running round the bend, and saw her.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Just exploring,” Averan said. “There's a cave-in here. I was looking for a way past.”

“It's dangerous,” he said, the concern clearly etched in the lines of his face.

“It's our only way out,” Averan argued.

Gaborn peered back along the trail they had come. The distant sound of reavers charging through the Underworld came as a low rumble. He licked his lips, and shook his head.

“I agree,” Gaborn said. “But I sense danger ahead. Not… death. But I fear that if we take this course… “

“What?” Averan asked.

“I don't know.” Gaborn said. “Perhaps I should lead the way.” He studied the hole, then stepped back. “No. The Earth warns that I can't go down there, and neither can Iome.”

“Then I have to go,” Averan offered. “It can't be that bad. I smell fresh air. This hole should take me to the other side of the tunnel.”

Gaborn peered at the burrow, as if seeking some hidden danger there, and nodded slightly. “Yes,” he whispered. “That's the one.”

“Let me go first, then,” Averan said.

“Wait,” Gaborn said, stopping her with a touch. “The fish should nearly be cooked. We'll eat, and come back later.”

Averan could tell that he was stalling. Gaborn had a cornered look in his eye.

After a quick dinner, during which Gaborn kept peering into the distance, lost in thought, Averan felt ready to face the burrow. With Gaborn and Iome behind her, Averan scooted into the narrow tunnel. Dried black goo littered the floor, drippings from the crevasse crawler. It was an oil that the monster secreted to lubricate its cave. Reavers liked the taste of it.

“There's nothing in here to be worried about,” Averan told Gaborn.

“Perhaps,” Gaborn said, “but take nothing for granted. I sense danger here. It may be something small. Just remember that you're not a reaver. A bug that is insignificant to a reaver may be devastating to you.”

“I'll be careful,” Averan promised. She forged ahead. Gaborn needed her help.

She scooted through the tunnel quickly, listening for the rattling that accompanied crawlers as they slithered through the rocks.

She reached the exit after only a few hundred yards, and poked her head out.

The exit opened into a large cavern. She was back to the riverbed, but things had changed. The stone here was red, and must have been soft, for the river had fanned out. Over the ages the roof had collapsed again and again, carving a vast chamber. The ceiling soared two hundred feet above her, and stalagmites rose up from the floor like some petrified forest, while stalactites hung down like giant teeth.