The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (5 page)

Talsy stared at
the Mujar, who seemed oblivious to his fate. Her father's cruelty
shocked her, and she did not understand his hatred. "Why can't we
just let him go? He's done nothing to us. In fact, he helped
us."

"Helped us?"
Borak made a rude noise. "We helped ourselves, lass. He wouldn't
have done anything if we hadn't made him. These damned yellow
monkeys don't deserve to live, and we can't even kill them. Only a
few years ago, we discovered that gold has this effect on them, but
now they're almost all in the Pits." He puffed a cloud of smoke.
"Maybe the medical school will pay to cut this one up and find out
what makes them tick before they throw him in the Pit."

"No, papa!
Please let him go!"

Borak shook his
head. "You're too young to remember how we tried to bring them into
our society. We offered them money, luxuries, anything they wanted,
just for their help. The bastards weren't interested. They wouldn't
use their damned Powers unless they owed us, and they don't need
our help."

"But..." Talsy
glanced at the Mujar again. "We can't feed another person until
spring. It's hard enough finding food for us."

"We don't need
to feed him. Mujar can't die. Not of anything. Believe me, we
tried. No poison works on them, and you can't drown, suffocate,
strangle - hell, nothing works. Why do you think we throw them in
the Pits? Even then they don't die until their hundred years are
up. They just can't get out, that's all."

"But... why do
they eat then? And why don't they fly out of the Pits as
birds?"

Borak tapped
his pipe. "We don't know. We know very little about them, except
that they can control the elements and can't be killed."

Talsy chewed
her fingernails. "And change their shape."

"Yeah, that
too."

"But if you
could force him to help me by using the arrow, why didn't people do
that before, if offering them money didn't work?"

"It's been
tried. Everything has, even blackmail and torture. The trick with
the gold will work once or twice, maybe three times tops, then they
get wise to it. After I stuck him with the arrow, he was watching
me. That's why I left the arrow on the table and used the rope
instead. The manifestation of their powers gives a little bit of
warning, but not always enough. If I'd come near him with that
arrow again, he'd have turned into something really small, a bird
maybe, then used fire to burn a hole in the door and escape."

Talsy nodded.
"Then they're not stupid."

"Stupid enough
to be grateful in the first place. A Trueman wouldn't be grateful
if you'd done that to him, he'd be bloody furious."

Chanter
listened to the distant beating of his heart and the swish of blood
rushing through his veins on its endless errand. The sounds were
the only comfort in the strange, dead world in which he found
himself. The rope made it hard to breathe, but he did not need to.
He could sense the Powers, but they were all beyond his reach,
shying away as if a wall blocked them. Dolana flowed under him, its
cold tendrils denied. No Crayash warmed him, allowing his flesh to
cool, and Ashmar swirled around him, out of reach.

For someone who
had used the Powers all his life, called on them whenever he needed
them and, in moments of extreme danger, unwittingly invoked them,
their absence was frightening and strange. The instant the rope had
tightened around his neck, the world had blurred and receded. Not
as bad as the arrow in his flesh, for there was no pain this time,
but similar. Time had become meaningless, just another part of the
world with which he had no contact. The two Lowmen mumbled in the
distance, and a calm, helpless rage dwelt in him.

Vaguely, he was
aware of someone dragging him across the floor and dumping him in a
corner, his head banging against something hard. He no longer
breathed, for the rope had closed his throat, and his lungs burnt
for air. His heartbeat marked the time, but the beats were
trackless, numberless, and uncountable. Isolated from the world, he
had no way of knowing how long he lay in the corner. Only his
memory provided an image of his surroundings. Sounds reached him
through the numbness and the rush of blood in his brain.

The sharp clang
of a pot jabbed his ears, making his neck muscles jerk and his
eyelids flicker. Banging and scraping sounds sawed at his nerves,
but they were faint, intangible, and not sufficiently real to break
the bonds of stillness. At times, long stretches of silence
entombed him further in his lost world, letting him sink into a
numb abyss. His tenuous hold on reality slipped a little more each
time, until a sound mercifully awakened him once more to the fact
that something else did exist outside. This slight assurance gave
him little comfort when his senses cried out for stimulation. The
fire's crackle made him long for Crayash, but its lack chilled
him.

Chapter Three

Talsy studied
the Mujar while she chopped carrots for supper. A week had passed
since her father had dumped him in the corner like a broken doll.
He did not breathe and had grown cool, yet his heart still beat.
Several times, she had pleaded with her father to let him go, but
Borak asserted that she did not know Mujar, and he did. She pulled
a mutinous face as she mulled over the situation. What if he was
wrong? Her questions had revealed that Borak only knew common
folktales about Mujar. Maybe there was more to them than people
thought. Had anyone ever bothered to get to know one, or had
Truemen always discounted Mujar as stupid creatures with no purpose
or use?

Sweeping the
chopped carrots into the pot, she set the stew on the fire. Borak
had made the arduous trek into the nearest village this morning for
supplies, and would be gone until dusk. She had returned early from
her hunt with a fat snow grouse and set about preparing the bird
for the pot. Cooking, hunting and cleaning were all her life
consisted of, and probably ever would. Later, when she found a
mate, there would be child rearing too. She would probably never
leave this bitter valley or know any people other than the
villagers and farmers here. Already her father had pointed out
several men of the right age and breeding for her. He planned her
life as if it was nothing to do with her. She was merely the person
who dwelt in her body, her father had bred it and therefore owned
it. That was the way things were.

Talsy frowned,
pondering while the stew bubbled. Her dull existence was no
different from any other girl. She had no special talents or great
beauty. There was nothing to set her apart from her peers, and she
had no reason to expect anything more than what her father planned
for her. The Mujar had come into her life like a cold mountain
breeze, sweet and wild, but untouchable. It could be savoured in
the instant it passed and then cherished as a memory, nothing more.
He was trapped now, however, helpless to save himself from the Pit.
Borak had warned her not to touch the rope. According to him, the
Mujar might use his powers to escape, maybe even hurt her, yet
Borak had also said that Mujar never harmed anyone.

The Mujar's
silent presence mocked her cowardice. He was probably the only
chance she would ever have to change her life and explore the
world. Be someone. If only he would take her with him, wherever he
was going. Her father had said that all Mujar did was loaf around,
pick through garbage and beg on street corners. This one had been
going somewhere when she had trapped him, however, in the shape of
a daltar eagle. Perhaps she should ask him. What harm could that
do?

Talsy
approached the Mujar, stepping over his legs. Crouching, she
grasped his chin and turned his head, brushing away the hair that
hid his face. She found his helplessness, coupled with his
perfection, poignant. To her surprise, his eyes opened, but they
merely gazed through her, glazed and unfocussed, before drifting
closed again. She patted his cheek, but that only evoked a slight
jerk of his neck muscles.

Talsy touched
the rope around his neck. A pulse beat under it, yet he had not
breathed for a week. Her fingers found the knot, and she paused.
What if he fought? He was strong enough to kill her with a blow
even if he could not use his powers. Resolutely, she undid the
knot, her stomach clenched with trepidation and excitement. She
pulled the rope away from his neck without removing the noose, so
she could pull it tight again if necessary.

The Mujar
raised his head and inhaled like a man who had held his breath for
far too long. He opened his eyes and focussed on her, then his
hands flashed up to grip her wrists in a painful hold, making her
gasp. In a reaction that seemed to be instinctive rather than
premeditated, he thrust her away. She held onto the rope, which
tightened around his throat. He slumped, releasing her. Her heart
pounding, she paused to recover from her shock and pluck up
sufficient courage to loosen the rope again. The Mujar raised his
head and opened his eyes again to gaze at her.

"I want to let
you go," she said, scouring her mind for the right words. "But if I
do, you owe me, right?"

He nodded.

Talsy licked
her lips. "I want you to take me with you, wherever you're going. I
want you to stay with me, protect me." She hesitated. "You'll bond
with me for your lifetime, or until I release you. And... you'll
obey me."

"No."

She stared at
him, dumbfounded. Did he not understand the consequences of his
refusal? How could he say no? "My father will throw you in the Pit
if I don't set you free."

He nodded.

"You want to be
free, don't you?"

He nodded
again.

"So do as I
say."

"No."

She bit her
lip, trying to think of a better bargain. Perhaps her offer was too
harsh. "Okay, just... be my friend. Help me whenever I need it and
do as I ask, as if you still owed me another Wish."

"Endless
Wishes."

"Yes."

"No."

She groaned.
"Damn it, do you want to go to the Pit?"

"No."

"Then give me
your word, and I'll let you go."

"No."

Talsy pulled
the rope tight, and he slumped. Jumping up, she paced the room in a
quandary. She had not expected him to refuse her offer of freedom
with a few strings attached. Perhaps her father was right. There
was no way to bind a Mujar and force him to do anything he did not
want to do. Yet there had to be. If she was going to escape the
life of drudgery her father planned for her, she must find a way to
bind the Mujar. For the moment, however, she was stumped.

No solution
came to her before her father returned, so at dinner she questioned
him again.

"Papa, tell me
more about Mujar."

Borak paused in
his chewing to contemplate her. "You're not getting attached to
him, are you?"

"Of course not.
He's just a thing that sits in the corner. How can anyone get
attached to that?"

Borak glanced
at the Mujar. "Well, I've pretty much told you everything I know,
lass."

"You said that
the hill clans sometimes bond with Mujar."

"Yes, it's a
sort of mutual thing. Food and shelter for work. Mujar are quite
content to spend their lives in drudgery."

Talsy frowned.
"But I thought freedom was important to them."

"It is." Borak
wiped a dribble of gravy from his beard. "The bond is only for as
long as the Mujar wishes it, you see. They're free to leave any
time they want, so they haven't given up their freedom. They value
comfort, as they call it. Food, shelter, clothes. They don't need
them, they just enjoy them. Try to make them do something, and
they're gone."

Talsy pushed a
chunk of meat around her plate. "So it's more like a bargain, not a
bond."

"Oh, it's
definitely a bond, make no mistake. A Mujar will fight for his
clan, if asked to, and a clan that a Mujar protects is very
safe."

She looked up
in surprise. "But you said they won't kill."

"No, they don't
need to." Borak sighed at the confusion in his daughter's eyes.
"You have no idea of the power a Mujar wields. He controls the
elements. He can surround his village in a wall of fire twenty feet
high and sustain it until the threat goes away. He can make the
wind blow so hard the enemy can't make headway against, or he could
part the earth and make an impassable crevasse. He doesn't need to
kill. That's why it's such a waste that these soulless beggars have
so much power."

"So they can't
be forced, but they can be bribed?"

Borak smiled
and shook his head. "Not really. They think differently to us. If
you offered a Mujar two years of comfort to protect your village
from a marauding clan, he'd just turn into a bird and fly away.
That would be bribery. It doesn't work. Only if he feels he owes
you a favour will he do it. So, a Mujar lives with a clan for two
years, does his work and gets his comforts. Then a marauding tribe
comes along, and the elders ask him for protection. The Mujar will
grant it and protect the clan. There's a subtle difference, do you
see it?"

Talsy nodded.
"Yes. You have to earn their favours. You can't buy them."

"That's
it."

"It's almost
like... they're the masters and we're the slaves. If they feel
we've been good they'll reward us."

Borak grunted,
looking annoyed. "You could say that. Only the hill clans make
those kinds of bonds, probably because they have no pride."

"But they do
get a lot in return. Almost like having a pet god."

Borak banged on
the table, making the crockery jump. "They're not gods! Don't go
getting any ideas like that! They're useless bastards!"

"Only because
they won't let us use them."