Their Master's War (2 page)

The storm still raged when they reached the village. It swirled dust between the lodges and tore at the coverings. The three expected that their approach would go virtually unnoticed, that they could creep in, and only after water and rest would they reveal their condition to the elders. They had assumed that most of the tribe, with the exception of maybe one or two unhappy, blanket-swathed lookouts, would be huddled inside the lodges, sheltering from the dust storm and nursing their hunger. Instead of lookouts, the three found that the black talis poles had been set out around the perimeter of the village. Their braids and tokens and bleached animal skulls

streamed and spiraled in the wind. The black poles were the tribe's most potent symbols of power, and in more normal times they would signify that a major magic was being conjured by the shaman and the elders. But how could magic be conjured in the teeth of such a storm? The only other reason for raising the talis poles was that the village feared a most awful supernatural threat. Within the village, a shock awaited them. More than half the tribe was standing in the open, buffeted by the wind and scoured by the dust, exactly in the center of the inner ring of lodges, clustered around the pylon. It was the most sacred and magical spot in the whole village. The elders and the shaman were in the middle of the group. The wind snatched at the elders' robes and the matted locks of the shaman. The young men who had not gone with the hunting party flanked them, standing stoically as though trying to pretend that the storm didn't exist. Less was expected of the maidens who huddled beside them and the children who clung to their mothers' skirts and howled, too young to have learned the code of suppressing. The whole tribe seemed to be defying the storm, waiting for the return of the hunters. The chief of the elders, Exat-Nalan-Ra, regarded the three arrivals with eyes that were impossible to read.

"You have killed men."

Exat-Nalan-Ra's face was wrinkled and brown, a miniature representation of a battered arid landscape. The feathers that held his topknot in place were nothing more than worn bare quills. The gray hair itself was so thin that it almost seemed as if the violent wind would pluck it out by the roots. Exat-Nalan-Ra's body, wrapped in a dirty white robe, was equally ancient and frail, and he leaned heavily on his ceremonial staff, but the fathomless depths of his icy blue eyes hinted at the power that made him the unquestioned leader of the Ashak-ai.

Harkaan nodded. "We have killed men."

"Such a thing has not occurred in generations."

It was as if Exat-Nalan-Ra already knew about the battle at the river.

"It was not of our own choosing."

"That does not change the color of the blood on your hands." Harkaan looked down at the ground, avoiding those cold blue eyes.

Exat-Nalan-Ra's right hand, the one that held on to the staff, trembled slightly. "You have no answer for that?"

Harkaan raised his head and reluctantly met the penetrating gaze. "I have no answer." Exat-Nalan-Ra's attention moved on to N'Garth and Valda. "You have no answers either?" They looked equally uncomfortable.

"We have no answers."

"Unless it was the madness of the Brana-ma."

"It's a terrible madness that costs a simple hunting party all but three of its number," the elder said.

"Their leader already wore the paint of the insane."

"So you blame it all on his madness?"

"He howled like an animal."

"And you felt no part of this madness? You only defended yourselves against it?" All three hesitated. The eyes of the tribe were on them, and they felt naked. Harkaan finally found his voice.

"I felt it."

Harkaan felt himself in the grip of a dull, exhausted recklessness. The wind still tore at them, burning their skin and turning their eyes red and raw. With every gust, Exat-Nalan-Ra visibly swayed. Harkaan was slipping past the point where he cared what the tribe's elders intended to do with him. for them, and now they seemed tobereceiving an odd respect.

The Lodge of the Spirits was little different from any of the other lodges, a low dome of shaped and stitched hides molded to a framework of split and curved canes. The real difference was in what lurked, invisible, in the smoky scented air, what entities watched from among the blackened relics, totems, and charms that hung from the roof or found solace in the patterns of beadwork that lined the walls. Marjooquin, the senior woman, tended the fire-that-must-never-die. She was quite as old and frail as Exat-Nalan-Ra, and equally determined. Her only concession to her great age was that she had Con-chela the maiden to assist her. As the three young men ducked into the lodge, she fed a handful of aromatic wood spills to the fire and nodded them toward three beaded cushions that had been set side by side as if in anticipation of their coming.

Only two of the assembly followed them inside. Exat-Nalan-Ra and Quetzyloc the master formally seated themselves at opposite sides of the circular lodge, facingeachother, directly along the axis of the invisible linethatran from the pylon to the rising red sun. For a longtime,they faced each other in silence. Marjooquin sprinkled a handful of white powder overthefire, and it immediately burned a rich, deep blue. Harkaan had to fight to stop himself from choking in the resulting acrid smoke, but both of the old men inhaled itwithgrunts of obvious satisfaction. Marjooquin thentilledan earthenware cup with clear cold water from aktrgerstone jar and passed it to Conchela, who offered itfirstto N'Garth, then to Harkaan, and finally to Valda.Afterthe three had drunk, the cup was handed to Exat-N.dan-Ra, who simply set it down in front of him, untested.

They were handed a plate on which lay five lingor

Exat-Nalan-Ra looked at the other two. "You also tasted madness?" Their faces were as blank as was expected. "I was mad." "And I." Exat-Nalan-Ra turned to Quetzyloc, the master shaman. There was a whispered conversation. The other shaman and most of the other elders joined them in a huddled discussion. Harkaan glanced quickly at the other two. Even the death paint couldn't disguise their apprehension. The sky picked that moment to crack open in multicolored bolts of lightning. Exat-Nalan-Ra beckoned with his staff.

"You will all come."

The villagers stepped back, leaving a path that led straight to the Lodge of the Spirits, the holy sanctum that occupied pride of place in the inner ring of lodges, on a direct line between the pylon and the spot on the horizon where the red sun rose. Harkaan had only once been inside the Lodge of the Spirits, and then only for a brief moment at the culmination of his manhood trials. Now the three walked slowly forward. It was an occurrence without precedent. Nobody ever entered the Lodge of the Spirits without an elaborate and lengthy ritual of purification. They had neither eaten nor drunk nor even brushed the dust from their leggings. There was a single-mindedness about the crowd's urgency. No one had screamed out in grief for the ones who had not returned. Death and the wind overshadowed everything. The wind itself seemed to acknowledge this, dropping in a brief moment of respite. Exat-Nalan-Ra swung back the entry flap to the lodge. There was a strange new deference about the old man that had Harkaan completely at a loss. A minute earlier he had been imagining what kind of punishment the elder might have in store

beans. The lingor was the plant of hidden truths. In the right circumstances, the swallowing of the bean could take a man to heightened realities. In the wrong circumstances, the lingor could drive a man to madness. Each of the three took a bean but made no attempt to swallow it. Quetzyloc placed a bean on the flat of his palm and moved his hand over it twice in a simple blessing. Then he broke the bean in two. He put one half in his mouth and extended his hand for the water. Exat-Nalan-Ra gave him the cup, and the master swallowed, then took the second half of the bean and a second swallow of water. Exat-Nalan-Ra repeated the procedure gesture by gesture. Marjooquin indicated that the three young men should do the same. They copied the blessing as best they could and placed the beans in their mouths; their water was served by the maiden.

For Harkaan, the interior of the lodge seemed to have taken on a golden luminescence. The spirits of the tribe were present in the air. He hadn't noticed before that there were tiny rock crystals sewn at intervals into the beadwork that lined the tent. Each one reflected the fire and the four oil lamps that hung from the roof. It was a moment of magic. He was inside a golden bowl of tiny burning stars. The euphoria, though, was quick to fade. The fire sank down to an angry red. The air was no longer golden. It was the same red as the light during the battle at Great Maru River. Exat-Nalan-Ra's eyes glittered in the dark as he nodded his head.

"There is no mistake, and there can be no other explanation." Quetzyloc also nodded, rocking backward and forward on his crossed legs. "There is no mistake."

"The Gods are coming. For the first time in five generations, the Gods are coming." N'Garth shifted uneasily, and Marjooquin treated him to a fast look of disapproval. Neither Exat-Nalari-Ra nor Quetzyloc noticed the interchange.

"We cannot ignore the signs, and there is no other way that we can interpret them."

"The Gods are close at hand. We must accept that as fact and act accordingly."

"Everything has come about as told in song and legend, and even as written in the documents."

"The.pylon hums louder every day."

"Exactly as it is recorded and exactly as it has been predicted."

"The plains are burned, the hot winds roll the dust clouds before them, and the dust obscures the suns."

"The lightning storm splits the sky."

"It is exactly as it is recorded and exactly as it has been predicted."

"In the final stages, the young men taste of madness and deliver death one to another."

"There is no doubt. It came to pass this way in record, and it will come to pass this way again."

"There is no doubt that the Gods are almost here."

"And we must perform their will in the manner of our ancestors."

"We must perform their will in the manner of our descendants long after we are dead."

"Now and forever, obedience without end." "So be it."

"I never thought I would live to see this."

In slow unison, the two old men's heads turned toward the three youths.

"Those who kill during the madness go to the Valley of the Gods. That is the law." Harkaan could feel the other two stiffen. His own shock exactly matched theirs. Was this to be a punishment for having killed? Did they go to the Valley of the

heavily embroidered leather. "It is time they were given the stone." Exat-Nalan-Ra was given the bundle. He unwrapped it with the slow, emphasized movements of ceremony. When the wrapping was smoothed flat on the lodge floor, it showed a representation of the birth of the suns. Inside the bundle was nothing more than a medium-sized smooth black stone, a flattened oval that looked just like a million others that could be found on any streambed. Marjooquin indicated that Harkaan should pick up the stone.

"You will hold the stone between your thumb and forefinger, extend your arm to its fullest, and very slowly move it in a circle."

Harkaan did as he was told, feeling a little absurd. It was something of an anticlimax. After all this talk of Gods, he had at least expected some fiery, magic jewel. And then, just as he was pointing it at Quetzyloc, the tip of the stone suddenly glowed a bright, pulsing red. Har-kaan's first instinct was to drop the thing like a hot coal. He quickly realized that this was not what was expected of him. He also realized that even when the stone was glowing at its brightest, it gave off no heat at all. He moved his arm again, and the glow faded. He moved ithack,and the glow returned. He looked questioningly at
I
\at-Nalan-Ra. The old man permitted himself the slightest of smiles. Even in these strange times, it was good to see a sense of wonder in a young man.

The
stone will lead you to the Valley of the Gods.
You
hold the stone and move your arm as you have just done. When the stone glows, the direction in which your
i i
is pointing is the direction that you take. It is very
simple."

Harkaan put the stone back down on its covering. Miirjooquin rewrapped it and then placed the bundle in a

Gods as sacrifices? Were they to be kin to the goats and cranes and oraloos that were sacrificed to enlist the cooperation of the mother spirits?

Marjooquin pointed at the three young men.

"You may speak. You may ask your questions."

N'Garth was the first to find his voice. "Why do the Gods come here? What do they want with us?" Quetzyloc made the barest of dismissive gestures. "It is not for us to know. They are the Gods. We are theirs, and they will do what they will with us. That is the prerogative of Gods. We merely follow the Law and the patterns of the past. By the Law, those patterns must extend into the future." Valda almost shook his head but caught himself just in time. "I do not understand. I do not understand the madness, and I do not understand why the pylons vibrate."

"It is not to understand. It is only to know. The pylons were given to us in the ancient days. When the Gods left us, they also left the pylons as heralds of their return. When the pylons begin to sing, we know that the Gods are coming. As they draw near, the land is scorched and tormented by wind and storm. Finally the young men become insane, and they kill each other.

"We can only guess, but it would seem that the culling of the young men is important in the Gods'

purpose. The law is most exact. The young men who have killed, who have killed in the grip of the madness, must go to the Valley. They and the same number of maidens." "And what happens in the Valley?" That was the question in the heart of each of the three. Exat-Nalan-Ra's face was as expressionless as if it had been carved from a block of old seasoned timber.

"Nobody knows. The Valley is forbidden to all others, on the pain of a retribution so severe that it may not even be spoken of."

Marjooquin produced a small bundle wrapped in soft,