The Second God (11 page)

A flick of the hand sent the beasts racing off again, back to wherever they’d been. Ly turned towards the crowd, and walked like a king into the midst of it. Or like a god, perhaps. Even to me, viewing the scene through his eyes, his demeanour and the proud tilt of his head were obvious.

Now that he was closer to the gathered crowd, I could see their faces. Shock – that was perhaps the most prevalent expression. Fear, in some of them. Respect, too. Far more respect than I’d ever seen in Clanfolk before. Some people bowed in the Clan way, one hand raised to the forehead, or simply averted their eyes, but many knelt before him, heads lowered, and he gently laid a hand on their hair.

He passed the afternoon in this way, mingling with his people, talking to one or two, nodding acknowledgement to others. He ate a little when he was offered samples from the roasted meat and game, or balls of something I couldn’t identify. Once or twice beakers were pushed into his hand, and he sipped and passed it back. The whole time, he was trailed about with amusing adoration by his mother, the only face I recognised. I wondered whether Lathran was there, but if he was, I saw no sign of him.

Late in the afternoon, the crowds drifted towards the scribery, and began settling on the grassy square before the door. To either side were wooden benches, and Ly took his place at the head of one of them, his mother beaming proudly beside him. She was a plain little thing, and I’d never seen her before when she wasn’t scowling and berating Ly for some fault or other. But with her best embroidered tunic, shimmering with beads, a filmy scarf on her head and a smile on her face, she looked almost pretty.

The opposite set of benches was occupied by youngsters of fifteen – the candidates. Only a score or so, which surprised me. Far more than that would have passed through the Blood Ceremony a moon ago, but perhaps there was some precondition for attending the Challenge. Bonding with a lion, perhaps.

The ceremony began. One of the candidates went up to the scribery door and ran her hands over the wood, at about head height, as if feeling for something. After a while, she shook her head and withdrew, as a cluster of well-wishers ran forward to commiserate and lead her away. Another tried, with the same result, and then a third.

But the fourth was different. As soon as he touched the door, a glowing symbol appeared near his head. The crowd ooohed in delight. He turned round to grin boyishly, then back to the door where he set his hand firmly on top of the glowing symbol. Nothing happened, of course. The door could not open, for the
byan shar
was in the audience, watching.

Candidates came and went. Ly’s attention began to wander, and his eyes roved around the crowd as much as they watched the door. Three more candidates managed to light the symbol, but the door was firmly shut. Ly began watching two women on the opposite side of the square who were having some kind of argument, hissing to each other in undertones. Perhaps Ly could listen in to their talk, because he seemed riveted by them.

And then the crowd gasped. A man standing beside the squabbling women opened his eyes wide, and a woman beside him flung hands over her mouth.

Ly’s attention spun back to the scribery. The door was open, and a young man was just disappearing inside.

Someone had opened the door. A second
byan shar
.

For an instant, my connection to Ly vanished. He was too shocked to remember me, I guessed. But then, as clear in my head as if he stood beside me, his voice.
“Drina! Did you see?”

“Yes.”

“What should I do?”
I could hear the panic in him.

“What happens next? What will he do?”

“Just walk around. Explore. Then he will come out and everyone will kneel to him.”

“Then you have to go after him. Make sure you’re with him when he comes out. You mustn’t let him steal your glory.”

“But the door has closed!”

“Then open it. You are byan shar, Ly. Take charge of this.”

“Yes,”
he muttered. Then, more strongly,
“Yes. Take charge.”

Springing up from his seat, he strode across the grass, the murmurings of the crowd rising to a crescendo behind him. Taking the steps to the entrance two at a time, he slammed his hand against the door. The symbol glowed, the door snicked open. He pushed it wider and walked through into darkness.

Then he was gone, the connection severed.

For a moment, I couldn’t even work out where I was. My mind had been with Ly for so many hours that it was a shock to find myself separated from him, back in the guest hall. My legs were stiff from sitting for so long, and my back ached. The room was in shadow, the sun too far round to reach the windows, the lamps not yet lit.

Mother was kneeling at my feet. “Drina? Drina! Are you all right, dear? What happened?”

“He’s gone,” I whispered.

“Gone where?” A familiar voice that made my heart leap.

“Arran?
Darling
!” I hurled myself across the room into his arms, and for some unfathomable reason burst into tears.

“Hush now! Hush, sweetheart. Everything will be all right. Ly will come back.” He bent to kiss me, and in that moment everything
was
all right.

“But what are you
doing
here? Is there something wrong at Kingswell? Yannassia? Hethryn?” A sudden clutching fear. “Not the children?”

“No, no. Everyone is fine.”

“But why are you here? Oh, kiss me.”

“I
am
kissing you. Or I would if you would stop asking me questions.”

That made me laugh through my tears, and then everyone was laughing, Arran, Sallorna, Mother and Cal – I hadn’t noticed him arrive, either. I’d noticed nothing for hours. I hugged Arran as hard as I could, and he held me tight.

“Did you ride all the way here?” I said, my voice muffled by his coat.

He nodded sheepishly. “I hate being on my own, and the weather was good, so I thought I might as well try it. Do you mind?”

I didn’t have to say anything, for the answer was obvious.

“But what happened?” he said. “You squealed – did something go wrong?”

How to explain it? The simplest way, I supposed. “There’s another one,” I blurted. “Someone opened the door. There’s a second
byan shar
. He went into the scribery, and Ly went in after him. That’s when I lost contact with him. There’s too much magic in the walls for me to penetrate.”

“How is that even possible?” Cal said.

I shrugged helplessly. That was the key question, and I couldn’t begin to answer it. We would have to wait until Ly returned.

~~~~~

At first I thought Ly would reconnect with me soon, but as time went by, we settled round the table and my stomach discovered it was ravenous. I’d eaten nothing since morning board, so I tucked into the bread, cheese and fruit left from the noon table, while Mother fussed around and sent the servants for something hot. No one talked much.

I’d begun on some soup when Krant came in, his face concerned. “What has been happening on the island?” he said. “We expected them to be there all evening, as usual, but some people are leaving already. Several boats have crossed to the far shore.”

I told him what I’d seen, but none of us could explain what was happening.

Cal leaned close to whisper, “Can you detect Ly’s magic?”

“Yes. When he was inside the scribery, it was muted and fuzzy, somehow, but he’s out again now and I know exactly which direction he is.”

“And the other one? The second god?”

Why hadn’t I thought of that? I should be able to detect him, too. I opened my mind, and searched around. “No, there’s nothing… oh, wait! There he is, a little further away. His magic’s not as strong as Ly’s. He’s moving northwest.”

“Might he be on a boat?”

“He might, yes. He’s moving quite slowly. Not flying.”

Cal leaned back in his chair. “That’s exactly what I would do, too.”

“Set off in a boat?”

“Get far away from here as quickly as possible. Get away from
you
.”

“Me? Oh – I could take his magic, you mean?”

He nodded, grinning. “These Clanfolk have great power, but you can tame them.”

“Should I try? I can reach it, I think. He’s still close enough.”

“Yes!” His eyes sparkled. “Show these savages who’s in control.”

Savages? Had I ever thought of them that way? Perhaps, once, when I’d thought that civilisation was founded on reading and writing and great cities. But Ly was as civilised as anyone I knew, despite his lack of reading. His people saw the world in a different way, that was all.

Still, the idea of showing the young
byan shar
who was in control was an appealing one. I closed my eyes, concentrating. The boy’s magic was a puny thing compared with Ly’s, a candle-flame in sunlight. If the two had been side by side, I could never have detected the smaller, weaker glow. But the distance between them made it clear to me. I reached out with my mind, grasping for his magic, greedy for it. It wasn’t as easy as I was used to. Ly was always close by when I took his magic now, and proximity removed every obstacle. I had only to have the thought and the magic was transferred to me. But this was more difficult. Once, twice I reached, and it slithered out of my grasp. The third time, I was determined, though.

“There! I have it,” I said triumphantly, before I realised that it made no difference. “But he is still travelling away from me, and his magic will regenerate.”

“Yes, but he knows now what a formidable enemy you are,” Cal said.

Was I his enemy? I had no idea.

~~~~~

As soon as Ly took to the skies again, I was aware of it. The glowing marker in my mind rose and then headed towards the town, closer and closer, before landing on the roof. The eagles were excited to be flying, but I couldn’t connect to Ly’s mind, so I had no idea how he felt, whether he was angry or miserable or merely puzzled. And would he want me to take his magic? I was uncomfortably aware that I’d already taken magic from the other
byan shar
. Would I even be able to absorb Ly’s as well? And the magic was beginning to make me restless for bed. I couldn’t wait for the evening to be over so that I could tear Arran’s clothes off and—

Best not think about that, not yet. I got up and paced across the room and back.

At last the door opened, and Ly was there, face serious. Then his eye lit on Arran, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

“Arran!” Ly yelled, his face lighting up. “You came all this way! I am so happy to see you!” And he threw himself at Arran, hugging him fiercely.

Arran laughed, and wrapped his arms round Ly’s slender frame. “As I am happy to be here. I would have been sorry to miss all the excitement.”

“There is nothing wrong at Kingswell?” Ly said.

“Nothing at all. I just missed you both. But this second god – that is quite a surprise. It must be very rare.”

“Rare? No, impossible. Or at least, it has never happened before.”

“
Never
?” I said. “Can you be sure of that?”

“Oh, yes,” Ly said. “Never, in all our history. No one knows quite what to make of it. Why would the gods choose a second
byan shar?
There are those who say that I have failed, and therefore Sho-heest is sent to replace me. But I have
not
failed! I have not yet reached my time of leadership, so how can they say I have failed?” He paused, a distant look in his eyes. “There was the plea, of course. Some will say the gods have answered the plea. But I will not surrender tamely to this – what is the word? Do you remember the dramatic entertainment we watched last winter, where the prince’s uncle replaced him?”

“Usurper,” Arran said. “That was the story of Turmanest the Usurper.”

“Yes, exactly. This boy is a usurper.”

“What is he like?” I said, as Ly took off his coat and sat down at the table. Absently he reached for a handful of nuts from the bowl, and Cal passed the wine around.

“Sho-heest?” Ly shrugged. “Just a boy. Very bewildered. He was terrified when I followed him into the tower.
‘I am so sorry,’
he kept saying.
‘What does it mean? What am I supposed to do?’
Drina, I am sorry I lost contact with you. It was too difficult when I was inside the tower, and then afterwards I was so distracted. People were yelling questions at me – as if I have any answers. And then just yelling at me – this is all my fault, I am too weak, I have abandoned my people. They are very angry with me. And with
you
, Drina. They called you a witch. And then someone mentioned that you can take all my magic, and Sho-heest’s parents panicked and dragged him away. I tried to follow, but I lost him.”

“He left the island by boat,” I said.

“Ah. Then he is gone. And if he enters the black-bark forest, we will lose him. His magic will clear a path and hide him from pursuit.”

“And what would happen if he has no magic?” I asked innocently.

“If he—? Oh!” Ly’s face relaxed into a smile. “Good! It will regrow, of course, but it is embarrassing for him, all the same.”

“What will you do about him?” Cal said.

Ly didn’t hesitate, not for a heartbeat. “First, I have to talk to Yannassia,” he said. “Then I shall decide what must be done about this boy.”

The talk went round and round for some time. Food came and went, the wine was passed from hand to hand, everyone ate and drank. Except me. I was full of magic, and restless. As they chattered and relaxed, I sat and gazed at Arran, admiring his hands crumbling bread, the way his hair fell in gentle waves, his strong chin. Waiting…

Eventually, they all left – Sallorna and Krant, Mother and Cal, and the last of the servants. Just Ly, Arran and me.

We stood, the three of us, no one speaking, waiting.

It was Ly who broke the silence. “Well, Drina, shall we go to bed?” He held out his hand to me.

I didn’t take it. My glance fell on Arran, seeing his crestfallen face. He’d assumed, too, that we would be together, that Ly would be the one to spend the night alone.

“Drina?” Ly’s expression was calm, and for the first time I couldn’t read him. How would he react if I said no? At Kingswell, I’d known how to handle him, but not here, not this new, confident Ly.

“I could take your magic,” I suggested hesitantly. “Then Arran and I—”

“No.”

“It is for Drina to decide,” Arran said, a flash of anger in his eyes. “You are her prisoner—”

“No,” Ly said again, in the same placid, sure voice. “Tonight I am
byan shar
and have need of my wife. You may have her back in the morning.”

I could have argued the point. Ly himself had described me as only a half-wife, after all, and yes, he
was
still my prisoner. I could have set the whole matter to rest by taking his magic from him and choosing Arran. But I didn’t want to take that step. Being confrontational was never my style. In the five years I’d been married to Ly, we’d always tiptoed round each other, the three of us, inching towards a working accommodation. I’d never imposed my will on either of them, leaving them to work out the details of bedroom arrangements between themselves. Well, it was Arran, really, who’d made the decisions.

And once more, he was the one to give way. He glanced at me, then at Ly, and back to me. Then, resigned, he scanned the room. “That sofa looks comfortable enough. I shall sleep there.”

“There are spare blankets in the bedroom,” Ly said. “I shall fetch them for you.”

“Thank you. May I—?” He looked helplessly at Ly. “Do you mind if I kiss Drina goodnight?”

Ly’s expression softened. “Of course not.”

He went to find the blankets, and I melted into Arran’s arms. I was so full of magic that his kisses set me on fire, and if Ly hadn’t been nearby, I’d have jumped on Arran right there and then. Pulling away from his arms was as hard as anything I’ve ever done.

“Sleep well, my little flower,” he whispered thickly, and quickly turned away from me.

Then I took Ly’s hand with a fizz of magic and let him lead me into the bedroom.