“A lizard?”
Daniel stared at the drawing.
“An intelligent lizard?”
He remembered the images that the Morra-ayar had shown him, and was silent
And finally Sarak led him to the lowest level, moving with slow steps and a look of awe. The old man paused before a low, solid-looking door.
“Here is the last of our secret places, Lord Daniel,” he said in a hushed voice. “Few men know it exists; fewer have seen it. But it is your right to enter here, according to the message of the sea folk. Come.”
He opened the door and took a torch from the wall; he went inside and Daniel followed
It was a long, narrow room, almost a passage. The torch lit only a part of it, high smooth walls that were dewed with moisture, a smooth stone floor, utterly featureless. Their footsteps rang hollowly as Daniel followed Sarak.
At the room’s end, the torchlight flickered on what stood against the wall. Sarak paused as Daniel looked at it.
A sarcophagus of greenish stone, almost translucent in the torch’s flicker, rested upright against the stone wall. Within it, a figure stood. It was wrapped in sheets of thin metal and masked with a curiously made golden mask in which jewels were set for eyes. The mask was very realistic; Daniel thought it might have been molded over the features of the man beneath.
Beside the figure in its jade tomb, a huge lever rose out of a slot in the stone floor; a rod of time-green metal, as thick as a man’s arm, and as tall as a man.
“It is Narr the Builder, greatest of the ancients,” Sarak said. “He sleeps here, within his greatest work, and guards… that.” He indicated the rod.
“Narr
himself !”
Daniel said softly. He stepped a little closer and studied the masked, dead face. It was the face of a man dead for centuries, but somehow it seemed almost alive; the jeweled eyes were open, staring back into Daniel’s own. The face was impressive; there was a look of enormous will, yet gentleness too.
Daniel felt a strange power in the dead man, somehow, and a chill touched him. He stepped back.
“You said he guards… that? What is it?”
“It controls a gate, beneath the wall,” Sarak said. “It is the flow of water that enters the Salt River, beyond. Only a few times in hundreds of years has it been moved, even a little… yet, we keep it ready, as the Builder instructed. See… if it moves thus,” Sarak pointed, “then less water flows. In the other, more water; thus, if the sea rises too high, we may relieve its pressure. But it must not be drawn too far; the rush of water would destroy even the wall itself, and certainly all that lies below.”
It would break the wall, Daniel thought.
Am I… manipulated, like a piece on a
chessboard,
by somebody playing a game, he thought. He could not believe in a god, not even in a devil, but… he looked at the calm gold face of the Builder again.
“Isn’t that a dangerous thing to have done?” Daniel asked quietly. He looked at the huge lever, seeing the worn marks on the slot in which it
rode,
numbers possibly, though in an unknown language. “Why not build the sluicegate so it could not be opened far enough for danger?”
“He knew the sea was sinking,” Sarak said. “Look, when we return to the upper levels. Since his time, the sea has grown a little lower against the harbor walls, each year. In ten generations more, the gate may be opened fully, perhaps.”
The gardens of the house of Zadosh were quiet, cut off by high walls from the sounds of the city. Sometimes the rumble of carts and the tramp of marching feet could be heard, and the brazen roar of trumpets. There had been fighting north of the city, where five of the galleys of Esmare had come close to the banks of the great causeway. It seemed a desperate attempt on their part, to land men at that point, and it had failed.
“I wish I knew what reasons drive those madmen to such things,” Zadosh said, scowling at the setting sun over the garden wall. “Our spies said that Balthon of Esmare was weak, loving pleasure better than war, though much influenced by his new religion. Alcron, the king of Iskarth, was always the lover of war. Yet, the men of Esmare have been leading in this foolishness…”
“I wish I knew what drives Daniel,” Ammi said, and sat down on a bench. She turned her hands in her lap, staring down. “He grows strange, lately.”
Strange?
Zadosh thought. No stranger than yourself, woman. But then, all women were beyond understanding, at times. Especially one like this, he thought. He had seen her aim an arrow with a face as calm as stone; look at death like a warrior. Now she whimpered because her man was too busy to be with her. Yet, Zadosh thought with a slight enviousness, it would be a fine thing if some of his own women could regard himself so highly.
“The Lord Daniel is much taken up with the defence of the city,” Zadosh said. “Many things that he must oversee himself, the work of artisans…”
Ammi shook her head. “No, that I don’t wonder about. It’s another thing.” She frowned. “He would not like it if I tell… but you are his friend. And I have seen that you know many things.” She paused for a moment. “He… dreams. In the night, he speaks in a strange language, the same… the same one he used, when he came… back. Then he cried out, as though afraid.”
“Daniel?” Zadosh said. “Afraid? That one… well, every man fears something, I suppose.”
“Sometimes, he is not Daniel anymore,” Ammi said in a low voice, staring straight ahead of her. “Though asleep, he… changes. His face… becomes the face of Egon, as he was, and he speaks, in his sleep… matters which were between
myself
and Egon. Zadosh, you heard our history. Can you say if Daniel is…
”
She faltered. “I do not know how to say it, there are no words. Once it was Egon I loved, who was my man. Then he died, and afterward, it became Daniel, though he looked the same. He did not look the same, to
me,
only to others… do you see?”
Zadosh thought he did. However, it was… disturbing. It did not fit with some of his carefully arranged explanations of Daniel’s rebirth.
“You may be deluding yourself, lady,” Zadosh said. “Out of love for Egon…
which cannot be wholly vanished from your mind, of course.
”
“No, it is not,” she said in a low voice.
“Never, wholly.”
“You see, then,” Zadosh said. “The mind deludes the eye, at times.” He put his hands behind his back and paced the garden path. “We know that a being is not truly one, but made of many different beings, linked in life. When a man dies, a part dies forever, another
lives
, but only for a little while; and another passes in time, into a new body. This last is the true self, the undying. It bears with it a sleeping memory of all that it has ever been… sleeping, because no man could bear to know all of his eternal past. Do you see?”
“I know what you believe,” she said.
“Perhaps, thousands of years from now, Daniel…” He stopped. “Perhaps Daniel and Egon were once the same man, do you see that?”
“They are not the same,” she said.
“Not now, at any rate.”
Zadosh shrugged. “Does it truly matter?” he asked reasonably. “He is… whoever he is… himself. He was caught by the magic of the lost one, and brought here; yet, I do not think he will serve that one, ever.
So the lost one has defeated his own ends, in that.
Why should it matter who Daniel truly is?”
Ammi looked up, her eyes wide.
“Because I am… with child.”
Zadosh stared at her and broke into a wide grin.
“Why not tell him?” he demanded.
“Because…” She made a helpless gesture. “I don’t know. It seems I don’t dare, yet. I don’t know why. But you must not tell him, either.”
Zadosh frowned slightly. “But… listen, lady Ammi. There is to be a matter in the Council, soon, of great importance. It is said that the little kingdoms in the valleys, and those farther to the east especially… they would aid Numith, if they did not fear Iskarth and Esmare more. Many soldiers, because though they are small nations, yet there are several of them… they could set upon the borders of Esmare to the east, and harry them, while we ourselves struck at Iskarth.”
“But they fear to do so,” she said contemptuously. “I have heard about it. You of Numith have made Kratonis and Mikalon wealthy, with your trade, but they cannot help. When Numith falls, it will be over for them, too, but… I wouldn’t want such friends.”
He shrugged. “They are… as they are. But it’s said that if the Lord Daniel himself went there, and showed them how he has given new strength to Numith… and another thing. He may convince them that Iskarth and Esmare wish to break down the wall, at the command of the lost one. This, they cannot yet believe.”
Ammi rose and stood looking at the darkening sky through the palm-tops. “Then, what woman would I be to tell him to stay here with me?” she said calmly. “He might wish to do that, if I speak of the child.
So…
I will not”
Balthon, King of Esmare, lay on his stomach on a table, his eyes closed. Two muscular young women pounded and rubbed him with great skill, and he groaned occasionally. Wine and food, as Balthon used them, should have long ago destroyed the King, had not such skilled hands preserved some tone in his body. But he was growing softer, and fatter, despite all help. His eyes betrayed him, ringed with dark circles at times.
He groaned again and rolled over, dismissing the women with a wave. He sat up and looked at the official, who waited patiently.
“So damnably early, good Hannik?” the King said, and groaned again. “Well… he is my cousin. Otherwise, I’d say he should be flayed and his skin nailed on the city gates. Six galleys
gone,
and nothing to show for it. All but a hand’s worth of men, slain or drowned. But he lives. There’s no justice to be had in the world, Hannik.” The King groaned again and took a deep draft from a cup beside him. “Send to say I will speak with him, in a little while. You, have my robe brought.” He snapped his fingers at a manservant, who returned a moment later with a scarlet robe. The King began to put it on slowly.
“Tell me again, Hannik,” he said, sitting down. “Though I should be angry, the tale’s too amusing.”
“It was Rorin found him,” Hannik said. “The Lord Ulff was caught, by these little people. When Rorin found him, he was caged, like a bear, naked, and…” Hannik coughed delicately. “It would seem that their females had done sundry things to him, in search of amusement, as such savage folk do.”
The King guffawed and wiped his eyes. “If I could but have seen it!” he chuckled. “Hannik, some day I must have a few of those small wenches for myself, and learn their tricks.”
“They are hard to catch, Lord,” Hannik said. “Well, because of a sudden earthquake, it was Lord Ulff’s good fortune to be left in his cage, alone, where Rorin found him. He released him, and these two, with such others as they found later, made their way back to Esmare.”
By the time the King sat once more in the chamber of audience, Balthon had regained sufficient composure to look down at Ulff and Rorin without a smile. It was an effort, however.
“More ships, you say?” Balthon asked. “So that you may anger the sea folk of the eastern sea again, and feed them on my men and weapons?”
Ulff opened his mouth,
then
remembered that he had sworn to be calm, and to allow Rorin to speak otherwise. He closed it firmly.
“Lord,” Rorin said, “the sea folk are divided among themselves, as you surely know. Some are against us, those who are with the Morra-ayar. But these will not attack us, either, because they do not like war. Others are our friends, servants of the Great One… but not unless we carry out his wishes.”
Balthon grunted impatiently. “If he is such a master of magic, why does he not do as he would, himself?” he asked. “Why must he always ask our service, and Iskarth’s? This war goes badly, in any case. We’ve gained nothing, and lost much.” He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the throne’s arm, staring at Ulff.
“We must strike harder, and now,” Ulff said, harsh-voiced.
“Or never again.
They grow stronger in Numith, but the Lord Daniel, that magician who has helped them, is out of Numith, gone to the eastern kings as an ambassador. Give me what I need, Balthon, and I will destroy Numith, now.”
“Those who are friends of the Great One,” Rorin said slowly, “
the
sea folk of the western sea… they have promised to act with us, now, though they were unwilling before. Now, they will do more than only guide our ships.”
Balthon stood up and yawned, a little insultingly.
“I will give it thought,” he said. “You may depart, cousin.”
The two men went silently out into the columned halls. Ulff paced just ahead of Rorin, chewing his lip, his face a curious dark red color.
“The King is not in good health,” Rorin said at last, very softly. Ulff stared at him, hot-eyed.
“Others… especially the Brothers of the Mystery… feel that the King’s health grows worse,” Rorin said, still calm. “He drinks much wine. If he drank a vintage that would make him… ill, a new king might be chosen. If such a man took oath to serve the Brothers…”
“Once he was king, he might,” Ulff grated.
“Oh, no,” Rorin said, smiling.
“Before.
First, an oath, then… the king’s health may worsen, who knows?”
“It had better do so soon, or there’ll be another means!” Ulff snapped. He turned and glared back at the walls of the palace. “He laughed at me. He laughed!”
“No,” Rorin said, calmingly. “He did not laugh, Ulff. Not even a smile…”
“I’ll give him laughter enough, with a grin on his damned throat, though he is my own blood!” Ulff spat and turned away.
“It seems as if they have drawn back, for now,” Daniel said as he walked on the sea-front wall with Ammi. They had come here to the harbor’s edge, sightseeing. It was difficult for Daniel to appear in the streets without a crowd forming, but he had worn a hooded cape this time, that served to hide his face. Ammi wore one like it; the kind of clothing many farmers wore to market in the city. So, for a day at least, they had been able to walk like ordinary folk, to visit market places and see the wonders of Numith.