Beyond the Wall of Time (25 page)

Should I have made them stop, Stella? I could have. But then the Wall of Time would have been breached, and I would have swallowed
them all.

I did what I could. I called a meeting of the three factions in the House of the Gods. The temple-dwellers, of course, would
not come. They were too busy worshipping me—begging me to do them favours, trying to compel me with magic spells recited from
their holy book—to attend. Both of the other two factions sent a representative. A man and a woman. I fashioned three seats
and we sat together, man, woman and giant, considering the world and debating what might be done.

Should I have told them what to do, Stella? I could have. But then the Wall of Time would have been breached, and I would
have swallowed them all.

After years of debate, the man and the woman agreed to a truce. They left my house and returned to their own people. However,
they discovered that their time in the House of the Gods had changed them. Having spent such a long time outside the Wall
of Time, they were no longer mortal children. They dwelled on both sides of the wall. Their factions sent them back to the
House, one fearful of what Keppia had become, the other hopeful that Umu could use her power to demand concessions.

Should I have stripped them of their power without their assent, Stella? I could have. But then the Wall of Time would have
been breached, and I would have swallowed them all.

How I loved them! But when I asked them to surrender their powers, they refused. “It is one or the other,” I told them. “You
would be best to return to your people. You will not enjoy life beyond the wall.” “Nevertheless, we will not relinquish being
gods,” they replied.

So they chose to live in the House of the Gods as my Son and my Daughter, yet soon they began to miss the freedom they once
enjoyed. Beyond the wall, Stella, life is different. You do not face uncertain choices. I knew they were discontented, yet
I was bound not to interfere, save offering advice.

What was I to do with Keppia and Umu? They were not content to pass their time in the House of the Gods. So I sent them to
whisper to their people, to offer them guidance, to assist the weak and the downtrodden. Of course I knew they would likely
interfere, but I had no choice. To prevent them interfering was to interfere myself.

They interfered. My beloved children raised vast armies and laid siege to the House of the Gods, demanding my surrender. Their
solution to the problem of the Wall of Time was to drive me beyond it, and to take my place themselves.

I need not have fled. I could have remained. But then there would have been slaughter, and my supporters, innocent of any
crime, would have been wiped out. I had been left with an impossible choice. Remain and witness the death of those who followed
me, or leave and so forsake the Amaqi, the children of the earth. So I left, and travelled north to Faltha to provide my followers
with a new home.

My leaving, however, cracked the Wall of Time. Keppia and Umu saw this weakness and, desirous of a full return to the world
with their god-like powers, have been trying ever since to exploit it. I attempted to raise a champion among the First Men
to oppose their interference, but I failed. Kannwar was the result of a thousand years of careful instruction and breeding,
yet he exercised his freedom and opposed me. Ever have the children of the earth had such refusal in their power.

And I cannot say he was wrong, Stella. I had such hopes, and my heart was filled with love. I thought he would embrace my
plan. I allowed my love, my trust and my desperation to cloud my judgment, yet I would do it again. I must trust my children;
otherwise, if I limit them—

I know
, Stella said.
You will breach the Wall of Time, and creation will end.

Kannwar turned against me. He decided to reveal my offer to his fellow First Men by partaking of the Water of Life, the water
I had planned for him to take gradually over many years, just as Keppia and Umu did. But, as you know only too well, your
bodies are not able to bear such a dosage of the Water of Life. Kannwar wished the First Men to become gods, but despite my
warnings he partook of the Fountain.

Then you interfered, didn’t you?
Stella said.
You punished him, and all the First Men.

Yes. I had made the mistake of introducing a command into the lives of my children. Something they could disobey. When they
disobeyed, I was forced to act. And in acting I further weakened the Wall of Time. I reached through to Dona Mihst and cracked
the earth, causing a great earthquake and flood.

Since that time I have been very careful, only exercising my power when invited, and then only through the will and bodies
of others.

Like Hal
, said Stella.
And Leith.

And yourself
, the Most High added.
Among others.

Kannwar
, said Stella.

Yes. After running from me for two thousand years, he is very unhappy about it.

Do you think he will remain true to you?

This was not the question she most wanted to ask. Under her superficial thought lurked the question:
Will he remain true to me?

The Most High gave her an answer.
I do not know. It is his choice. He will betray us. He has a history of deception.

Yet he surrendered himself to me, allowing me to use him to drive Keppia from the House of the Gods and the body he inhabited.
He could have betrayed us then, but he did not.

What sort of god are you?
Stella asked angrily.
You choose not to see the future, you refuse to interfere, you withhold miracles. Are you any use at all?

I am a reluctant god
, he said.

Conal awoke from darkness as thick as tar. His remaining eye was stabbed by daggers of light, forcing him to blink rapidly.
Dirt ground itself into his eyeball, but he could not raise his hands to remove the irritation.

Someone had buried him.

But I’m not dead! Why would someone bury me alive?

Panic rippled through his body, but still he could move nothing but his eye. The last thing he could remember was Duon’s foolish
attempt to free them from Husk’s clutches. It had obviously not worked. Conal could have told the stupid southerner and the
fat girl it would not work, the voice was too clever for them. He could feel the voice even now, nestled in the back of his
head, ready to inflict further suffering on him and everyone else.

Conal willed his muscles to move, but there was no response. His head was clear of rocks and dirt, but the rest of him had
been covered.
Why, why, why?
Had he been caught in a landslide?

A slurry of mud trickled into his good eye. He tried desperately to blink it away, but it filled the gap between his lower
eyelid and his eyeball. Needles of pain burned into his eye, reducing his vision to blurred shapes.

Something moved above him.

“They buried you deep,” it said. “They must have wanted you to stay dead.”

A hand scraped the mud from his face, one of the fingernails casually scoring his eyeball. He yelped, and his mouth filled
with dirt.

“Won’t be long and we’ll have you free,” said the voice. “Then we’ll see what shape you’re in. Not good, I expect.”

While Conal attempted to spit out the dirt, the figure busied itself clearing mud and rocks from the priest’s torso and limbs,
humming all the while. It seemed to take forever.

“Who are you?” Conal forced the words out.

The figure bent over him and the face drew close. Conal screamed.

The storm had blown itself out. All that remained was a thin, cold rain spattering from low, formless cloud. Lenares insisted
the hole in the world had gone and that Umu was nowhere near, so Kannwar had let the barrier above them dissolve.

Strength had been slow to return to Robal’s limbs. Even now, hours later, he leaned against the cracked base of the former
column at the edge of Corata Pit, his shaky legs barely able to bear his weight. The Destroyer apologised to him for such
an abrupt and deep drain of his energy, but stopped short of acknowledging it as theft. Instead, it seemed he wished for praise,
repeatedly emphasising how Stella had survived and the barrier had held.

“Had you not been willing to give of yourself, many more people would have died,” the man said in an oily voice. Robal seethed
at the patronising words. “Though the depth of your strength was a surprise. You kept pouring yourself at me long after I’d
taken what I thought you could bear.”

What on earth was the loathsome man talking about?

His wittering continued. “Have you ever been tested for magical potentia1?”

“We don’t do that in Faltha,” Robal responded. He didn’t care how rude he sounded; this man could not be borne.

“I have returned the favour,” said the Destroyer. “You should be feeling better. I infused you with some of my own strength.”
When Robal didn’t respond, the man frowned and said: “You should be honoured. In Andratan my servants compete to be the ones
I drain to perform my magic.”

“This isn’t Andratan. I gave nothing to you willingly, thief. You took it. You ripped it out of us.”

“Your queen lay dying on the ground, man! What did you want me to do? Hold a meeting perhaps? The Daughter could have struck
at any time. Lenares’ brave actions gave me the time to repair the canopy, and then everyone’s strength kept Stella alive.
How can you find fault with that?”

“There is no fault,” Stella said.

Her voice had an odd timbre, as it had since she had awoken; something damaged in her throat perhaps. Whatever the cause,
it made Robal’s flesh creep.

“No fault,” she repeated. “Everyone did what they could. Now we need to move on.”

Robal flushed at the rebuke. How could the woman be so ignorant of the Destroyer’s manipulation? Or was the priest right after
all? Was she in his thrall? He settled for casting a single glare at the Destroyer.

“Move on from blame, or move on from this pit?” said Anomer.

“Both,” she replied, “but particularly the former.” Absently she scratched at her face and a piece of skin flaked off.

Something is wrong. Stella is conscious of her appearance. She ought to have noted that.
A dark suspicion entered his mind, but he dismissed it.
Surely not.

“I’m more concerned with the latter,” Anomer said. “The locals have gone to search for their loved ones, and I intend to follow
them. My father and sister are out there somewhere, alive but exhausted, easy prey should the gods return. Does anyone object
to my plan?”

“Do you want company?” Mustar asked.

“Of course,” replied Anomer. “As many as wish to come.”

But the words sounded less than sincere to Robal.
He is wary of the boy around his sister
, he thought.
Jealousy is such a petty thing when displayed in such an obvious fashion.

“People are weary,” Moralye said. “Should we not wait for the others to rejoin us?”

Anomer shook his head. “I’m no longer in communication with them. In Raceme mind-contact led the gods to us. I don’t want
Umu or Keppia to sense them out there on their own.”

“We do have to work out what to do next,” Robal said, trying to impose himself. “We need to capture or destroy the gods, but
every time they come close we can do nothing but flee or take shelter. Shouldn’t we think of a way to trap them?”

Every head turned to the cosmographer.

Her tongue flicked over her lips and she fiddled with her hair. Everyone knew the story of how she’d captured Umu. Robal could
see just how much of their hope was fixed on her.

“I… I do have some ideas,” she said.

“Then share them with us all!” a voice boomed across the pit. Striding towards them, a wide grin on his face, came Conal the
priest.

Dryman—or the thing now inhabiting his body—had dug him out of his burial pit, then hauled him to his feet. Its mouth drew
close to Conal’s face, the breath like the stink of a latrine. The priest tried to break the monster’s grip, but could barely
move. Some sort of paralysis then, and not the weight of the soil, had prevented him moving.

“Good to see you again, Umu,” it said.

Conal had always considered himself smart. As a child he’d been vastly more intelligent than his peers, so obviously so that
they’d reacted in the traditional manner by beating him at every opportunity. Not that this stopped him demonstrating his
superiority at every opportunity. His career in the Koinobia had been characterized by rapid promotion and jealous gossip.
Despite appearances he had always been a keen student of behaviour. Even so, it took him a few moments to realize what Dryman’s
words meant.

“I’m not Umu,” he meant to say, but there was no connection between his thoughts and his mouth. Instead, the presence in the
back of his head leapt forward and took control of his speech.

“You look like a mummer,” said his mouth.

Oh, Most High
, he wailed, shut up and silent in his own body.
Please, not this, not again!

“And you look a great deal plumper than I remember,” Dryman’s mouth said, breathing foetid fumes into his face.

Conal’s mouth laughed. “The fool inside this body thinks I’ve gained temporary possession of it.”

“As does mine, though the Emperor of Elamaq is beginning to taste the first flowering of despair.” A grin split the horrid
face opposite Conal’s. “You died, priest. You are forever severed from your body. Since you were not using it, my sister has
taken it for her own. You may still see, hear and feel, but you are merely a spectator. She can banish you into the void at
any time.”

I died?

“He does not yet understand, brother.”

“Your essenza has already gone to the void beyond the wall,” Dryman said, “as has that of the man who once occupied this body.
However, memories are slow to fade. We have prevented them fading completely so we can use these bodies with a degree of subtlety.”