Claria[1]
Ena[2]
looked up at the sky in the Grey Wanderer’s old observatory. It wasn’t really
the sky – it was a representation of the sky painted on the wide concave
ceiling: exquisite but an artifice. He slept on a mattress in here now, as close
as he could to his mistress. Kyron[3],
however, had spent several fruitless days trying to escape through the
labyrinth that sat between them and where they used to live with the Priest.
Every time Padawar had found him and brought him back, with a gentleness that
belied her power. This had only made Ena more devoted to her; and devoted he
truly was. He had grieved for the Priest, who had been a kind and good man, but
he did not have the aura of his mistress naga – powerful and implacable. Finally
there was someone worthy to serve.
His
lady approached him. He was as eager as a lap dog.
‘I
have news of our Foes’ she said, ‘I know of their immediate plans’
‘How?’ asked Ena, awed but not silenced.
‘I
can read their messages – my mentor taught me many things: I can see into the Texture[4], but
they do not know that I can. They are frightened of the new Death God; who they
believe killed their leader. They are looking for allies – in unlikely places. They talk of allying with the group who are mortally
opposed to Kratos. And that might be a dangerous thing if they succeed, no?’
Ena
realised that she thought he knew all about this – but, in fact, it was a
complete mystery to him; he had no idea who she was talking about. But he was
eager to please. He nodded with as much
conviction as he could feign.
‘So,
I am minded to re-deploy you – as a spy’
Ena
was terrified; he felt his bowels shudder. He stared at his mistress in
disbelief.
‘You
would send me back to the Cloaks?’
She
laughed and placed her hand on his shoulder. Just a gentle touch but enough to
send a jolt of tenderness through him.
‘No
– not to the cloaks. You are known to them, and we know their plans. ‘I will
send you instead to the Barbarian North. Perhaps “envoy” would be a better word’
The
Thief shivered, both words, “barbarian” and “north” sounded as cold and harsh
as he imagined the climate to be.
‘It
sounds dangerous…’
Padawa
laughed and took away her hand. She had done just enough to calm him.
‘After
what you have gone through, it will be easy. I plan to send you to our putative
allies, the Hybitor coven…’
‘Witches…’ Ena whispered; he made it sound like a curse.
His only experience of them so far had been dreadful.
‘Yes,
but they are not like the witches who assaulted you; those were servants of
Kratos, the Great Antagonist. The ones that I will send you to are flawed but
with love of the commonweal in their actions. I judge them, at present at
least, as on our side’
He
stared up at her, wondering. He was on the short side for a man, and she was
tall for an elf.
‘Do
they know of us’ he asked
‘No
– and that is for the best. Our plans should be revealed only slowly’
‘What
are our plans?’
‘Still
evolving, peon’
He
didn’t need to know. That was the beauty of obedience: it was not necessary to
comprehend. It was only necessary to jump when required. He was unsurpassed at that.
She
smiled at him; the cold smile that is all a naga can manage.
‘Go
and get your things and then I will send you where you need to go’
‘How
will I travel’ he asked
‘I
will use the power of this area to send you directly’
‘The
Grey Wander’s power?’ he asked. Softly
‘Indeed
– my Master’s power’
Ena
knew he should ask no more questions; but he had always been inquisitive’
‘Do
you know where he is?’ he asked
She
shook her head; he was not aware enough to see the sadness in it.
‘He
is gone; we cannot hope for help from there…’
‘Shouldn’t
we try to find him?’
‘No’
she said adamantly, ‘we need to find the way ourselves’
He
felt mildly uncomfortable, although he couldn’t put his finger on quite why. I wish I could ask the Priest about this
he thought, but then stopped himself. He
was weak and she is strong. And he died because of his weakness. I must obey.
‘Yes,
of course, my Lady’
He
stared admiringly at her for a few more moments, bowed low and then they parted.
He gathered his stuff
together and then decided to leave it all behind. It was only a few rags, pots
and some scraps of food. He took his empty backpack and he shoved a shoe into
the bottom of it. It was all that was left of the grey Priest, and for some
reason it was the only thing he really wanted to take. It was foolishness, but
he hoped it harmless Kyron, dressed now in a clean off-white toga,
watched him and said nothing until he had finished.
‘Where
are you going?’
‘To
fulfil my Lady’s wishes’
Kyron
looked at him. Ena was unsure for a moment if he had understood him.
‘So,
the cold elf is your mistress’
‘She
is no elf’ murmured Ena
‘What
is she then?’
‘A
lordly creature made at the beginning of This Time’
‘Made?’
‘Yes
– by the goddess Ophia; just as humans were made by gods and elves’
Kyron
came up close and looked at him with a disquieting intensity
‘Why
do you follow her?’ he asked
Ena
stretched to his full height.
‘Because
I am a follower and she is a worthy leader’
‘There
should be no followers and no leaders’ whispered Kyron.
‘What?’
Kyron
smiled timidly and retreated two large steps.
‘My
mind races sometimes – it was nothing’
Ena
regarded him with a mixture of sympathy and distaste. He didn’t have time for
these sorts of conversations.
‘I
have to go. You need to sort out that mind of yours. It would be better for you
to follow our Lady’s wishes’
Kyron
nodded, but there was no real agreement in it.
‘I
understand what you’re saying’ he murmured, but Ena had already gone.
Kyron
vaguely wondered where his companion was going, but he didn’t care too
much. He lay down on a roll of blankets
on the ground and waited. Whatever was coming was sure to be worse than what
had come before, although his recollection of the past was very hazy. He recalled a sea of horsemen and his title,
“Baron von Eisen”, but try as he did, he still could not remember his childhood,
his parents or his given name. Whatever had been there was now a dark and
ragged hole. And sounding through all those, like a death knell, was another,
unwanted name – “The King of Eddorre”. Was that really what he was? King of a country that no longer existed, and
whose re-conquest would mean fighting the gods?
He
remembered most clearly the creature who brought him here: a four-legged being
who was not a mortal thing. He curled up like a baby. As he drifted into sleep he called out ‘Coyote
– save me’, but it did not come. It never came; not even in his dreams.
[1]
The old (and new) name for Tlaxapec
[2]
Also known as “The Thief”
[3]
Formerly “The Dirty Man” and before that Baron Ernst von Eisen, Grandmaster of
the Knights of the Crimson Flame
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