Читать книгу The Treasured One - David Eddings - Страница 8

During the course of my many cycles I’ve grown very fond of the mountains of my Domain. There’s a beauty in the mountains that no other kind of country can possibly match. My sister Zelana loves the sea in much the same way, I suppose, but I don’t think the sea can ever match mountain country. Mountain air is clean and pure, and the eternal snow on the peaks seems to increase that purity.

Over the endless eons I’ve discovered that a mountain sunrise gives me the most delicious light I’ve ever tasted, so whenever possible I go up to the shoulder of Mount Shrak at first light to drink in the beauty of the sunrise. No matter what happens later in the day, the taste of a mountain sunrise gives me a serenity that nothing else can provide.

It was on a day in the late spring of the year when the creatures of the Wasteland had made their futile attempt to seize sister Zelana’s Domain and had been met by Eleria’s flood and Yaltar’s twin volcanos that I went out of my cave under Mount Shrak to greet the morning sun.

When I reached my customary feasting place, I saw that there was a cloud bank off to the east, and that always makes the sunrise even more glorious.

I looked around at the nearby mountains, and it seemed that summer was moving up into my Domain a bit more slowly than usual, and last winter’s snow was still stubbornly clinging to the lower ridges. It occurred to me that this might be a sign of one of those periodic climate changes which appear much more frequently than the people who serve us seem to realize. The temperatures on the face of Father Earth are never really constant. They’re subject almost entirely to the whims of Mother Sea, and if Mother’s feeling chilly, Father will get a lot of snow. That can go on for centuries.

After I’d considered the possibility, though, I dismissed the notion. Zelana had tampered with the weather extensively during the past winter to delay the invasion of her Domain by the servants of the Vlagh until her hired army arrived from the land of Maag, and it might take a while for things to go back to normal.

All in all, though, things had gone rather well this past spring. The more I considered the matter, the more certain I became that my decision to rouse the younger gods from their sleep cycle prematurely and to cause them to regress to infancy in the process had, in fact, fulfilled that ancient prophecy. Eleria’s flood and Yaltar’s twin volcanos had forever sealed off Zelana’s Domain from any more incursions by the creatures of the Wasteland.

The morning sun rose in all her splendor, painting that eastern cloud-bank a glorious crimson, and I feasted on her light. I’ve always found early summer light to be more invigorating than the pale light of winter or the dusty light of autumn, and there was a certain spring to my step as I walked on back down the mountain to the mouth of my cave.

My little toy sun was waiting for me at the cave-mouth, and she flickered her customary question at me.

‘Just taking a look at the weather, little one,’ I lied. She always seems to get all pouty and sullen if she thinks that I prefer the light of the real sun to hers. Pets can be very strange sometimes. ‘Is Ashad still sleeping?’ I asked her.

She bobbed up and down slightly in answer.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘He hasn’t been sleeping too well here lately. I think he was badly frightened by what happened down in Zelana’s Domain. Maybe you should keep your light a bit subdued so that he can sleep longer. He needs the rest.’

She bobbed her agreement, and her light dimmed. She had been just a bit sulky when I’d first brought Ashad into our cave, but that had passed, and she was now very fond of my yellow-haired little boy. She’d never fully understood Ashad’s need for solid food rather than light alone, so she habitually hovered near him, spilling light down on him – just in case he happened to need some.

I went on down through the twisting passageway that led to my cave, ducking under the icicle-like stalactites hanging down from the ceiling. They were much thicker and longer than they’d been at the beginning of my current cycle, and they were starting to get in my way. They were the result of the mineral-rich water that came seeping down through Mount Shrak, and they grew perceptibly longer every century. I made a mental note to take a club to them some day, when I had a little more time.

Ashad, covered with his fur robe, was still sleeping when I came out of the passageway into the large open chamber that was our home, so I thought it best not to disturb him.

I was still convinced that my decision to bring our alternates into the tag-end of our cycle had been the right one, but it was growing increasingly obvious that they’d brought some of their previous memories with them. I sat down in my chair near the table where Ashad ate his meals of what he called ‘real food’ to consider some things I hadn’t anticipated. I rather ruefully admitted to myself that I probably should have examined our alternates a bit more closely before I’d awakened them, but it was a little late now. I’d assumed that the children would respond to any dangers in the Domains of their own surrogate parents, so I’d been more than a little startled when Veltan had told me that Yaltar’s dream had predicted the war in Zelana’s Domain. I’d assumed that it’d be Eleria who’d warn us. Then when the real crisis arose, Yaltar had shoved prediction aside and had gone straight into action with those twin volcanos. That strongly suggested that Yaltar and Eleria had been very close during their previous cycle – a suggestion confirmed by the fact that Yaltar had occasionally referred to Eleria by her true name, ‘Balacenia’, and Eleria in like manner had spoken of ‘Vash’ – Yaltar’s true name.

‘I think there might just be a few holes in this “grand plan” of mine,’ I ruefully admitted.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that the core of our problem lay in the fact that the Vlagh had been consciously modifying its servants over the past hundred or so eons. The modification of various life forms goes on all the time, usually in response to changes in the environment. Sometimes these modifications work, and sometimes they don’t. The species that makes the right choice survives, but the wrong choice leads to extinction. In most cases, survival depends on sheer luck.

Before the arrival of the hairy predecessors of the creatures we now call men, vast numbers of creatures had arisen in the Land of Dhrall, but at some point most of them had made a wrong turn and had died out.

The Vlagh, unfortunately, had been among the survivors. Originally, the Vlagh had been little more than a somewhat exotic insect which had nested near the shore of that inland sea which in the far distant past had covered what is now the Wasteland. A gradual climate change had evaporated that sea, and the Vlagh, driven by necessity, had begun to modify its servants. The change of climate had made avoiding the broiling sunlight a matter of absolute necessity, but as closely as I’ve been able to determine, the Vlagh had not simply groped around in search of a solution, but had relied on observation instead. I’m almost positive that it had been at this point that ‘the overmind’ had appeared. The ability to share information had given the servants of the Vlagh an enormous advantage over their neighbors. What any single one of them had seen, they all had seen. The Vlagh’s species at that time had lived above the ground – most probably up in the trees. Several other species, however, had lived beneath the surface of the ground, and ‘the seekers of knowledge’ – spies, if you wish – had observed those neighbors and had provided very accurate descriptions of the appendages the neighbors used to burrow below the surface. Then ‘the overmind’ had filched the design, the Vlagh had duplicated it, and the next hatch had all been burrowers.

The extensive tunnels had kept the servants of the Vlagh out of the blazing sunlight, but that had only been the first problem they had been forced to solve. As the centuries had passed, the changed climate had gradually killed all the vegetation in that previously lush region, so there was no longer sufficient food to support a growing population.

The Vlagh had continued to lay eggs, of course, but each hatch had produced fewer and fewer offspring, and the Vlagh had come face to face with the distinct possibility of the extinction of its species.

When the burrowing insects had reached the mountains, they’d encountered solid stone, and their progress had stopped at that point. Not long after that, however, they’d discovered the caves lying beneath those mountains, and the species which should have gone extinct lived on.

I’m of two minds about caves. I love mine, but I hate theirs.

Anyway, the servants of the Vlagh had encountered other creatures in the caves and mountains, and evidently the overmind had realized that some of those creatures had characteristics which might prove to be very useful, and it had begun to experiment – or tamper – producing peculiar and highly unnatural variations.

I rather ruefully conceded that the experiment which had produced what Sorgan Hook-Beak of the Land of Maag colorfully called ‘the snake-men’ had been extremely successful, though I can’t for the life of me understand exactly how the Vlagh had produced a creature that was part bug, part reptile, and part warm-blooded mammal that closely resembled a human being.

Biological impossibilities irritate me to no end.

I will admit, though, that had it not been for the near genius of the Shaman One-Who-Heals, the creatures of the Wasteland would probably have won the war in my sister’s Domain.

Ashad made a peculiar little sound, and I got up from my chair and crossed in the dim light of our cavern to the stone bench that served as his bed to make sure that he was all right. He was nestled down under his fur robe with his eyes closed, though, so I was sure that he wasn’t having any problems. Our discovery that our Dreamer-children weren’t able to live on light alone had made us all a little jumpy. It wasn’t the sort of thing we wanted to gamble with. Then we came face to face with the question of breathing. Veltan’s ten eons on the face of the moon had been a clear demonstration of the fact that we didn’t really need to breathe. Many of our pet people were fishermen, though, and drowning happens quite often. Even though our Dreamer-children were actually gods, their present condition strongly suggested that they needed air to breathe and food to eat, and none of us was in the mood to take any chances.

Ashad was still breathing in and out, though, so I went on back to my chair. I let my mind drift back to Ashad’s first few hours here in my cave. If anybody with a cruel mind would like to see a god in a state of pure panic, I think he missed his chance. Panic had run rampant in my family that day. As soon as Ashad started screaming at me, I went all to pieces. Eventually, though, I remembered a peculiarity of the bears which share my Domain with deer, people and wild cows. She-bears give birth to their cubs during their yearly hibernation cycle, and their cubs attend to the business of nursing all on their own. Then I remembered that a she-bear called Broken-Tooth customarily hibernated in a cave that was no more than a mile away.

Still caught up in sheer panic, I grabbed up my howling Dreamer and ran to Mama Broken-Tooth’s cave. She’d already given birth to the cub Long-Claw, and he was contentedly nursing when I entered the cave. Fortunately, I didn’t have to argue with him. He was nice enough to move aside just a bit, and I introduced Ashad to bear’s milk.

His crying stopped immediately.

Peculiarly – or maybe not – Ashad and Long-Claw were absolutely positive that they were brothers, and after they’d both nursed their fill of Mama Broken-Tooth’s milk, they began to play with each other.

I remained in the cave until Mama Broken-Tooth awakened. She sniffed briefly at her two cubs – totally ignoring the fact that one of them didn’t look at all like a bear – and then she gently nestled them against her bearish bosom as if there was nothing at all peculiar taking place. Of course, bears don’t really see very well, so they rely instead on their sense of smell and after two weeks of rolling around on the dirt floor of the cave, Ashad had most definitely had a bearish fragrance about him.

Ashad slept until almost noon, but my flaxen-haired little boy still seemed exhausted when he rose, pulled on his tan leather smock and joined me at our table. ‘Good morning, uncle,’ he greeted me as he sank wearily into his chair. Almost absently, he pulled the large bowl full of red berries he’d brought home the previous evening in front of him and began to eat them one at a time. His appetite didn’t seem quite normal, for some reason.

‘Is something bothering you, Ashad?’ I asked him.

‘I had a nightmare last night, uncle,’ the boy replied, absently fondling a shiny black stone that was about twice the size of an eagle’s egg. ‘It seemed that I was standing on nothing but air, and I was way up in the sky looking down at the Domain of Vash. The country down there in the South doesn’t look at all like our country up here, does it?’

There it was again. Ashad obviously knew Yaltar’s true name, even as Eleria did. ‘The people of the South are farmers, Ashad,’ I explained. ‘They grow much of their food in the ground instead of concentrating on hunting the way our people do. They had to cut down the trees to give themselves open ground for planting, so the land down there doesn’t look at all like the land up here. What else happened in your dream?’

Ashad pushed his yellow hair out of his eyes. ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘it seemed that there were a whole lot of those nasty things coming into the Domain of Vash – sort of like the things that crawled down into Balacenia’s Domain a little while ago.’ The boy put the shiny black stone down on the table and ate more of the red berries.

There it was again. It was obvious now that the Dreamers were, perhaps unconsciously, stepping over the barrier I’d so carefully set up between them and their past.

‘Anyway,’ Ashad continued, ‘there were outlanders there, and they were fighting the nasty things just like they did in Balacenia’s Domain, but then things got very confusing. A whole lot of other outlanders came up across Mother Sea from the South, but it didn’t seem like they were interested in the war very much, because they spent all their time talking to the farmers about somebody called Amar. The ones who were doing all the talking were wearing black robes, but there were some others who wore red clothes, and they were pushing the farmers around and making them listen while the ones in black talked. That went on for quite a while, and then the outlanders in the South got all excited, and they started to run north toward a great big waterfall, and the other outlanders – the ones who got there first – sort of got out of their way for while, and then when everybody got to that waterfall, it looked to me like everybody was trying to kill everybody else, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t understand exactly what was going on.’

‘I’ve heard that dreams are like that, Ashad. I don’t need to sleep, so I don’t really know what dreams are all about.’ I hesitated. ‘Where did you find that shiny black rock?’ I asked, more to change the subject than out of any real curiosity.

‘It was in the back of the cave where Mama Broken-Tooth sleeps in the winter,’ Ashad replied. ‘She had three cubs while she was sleeping this past winter, and while you were busy helping your sister Zelana, I went to her cave to see them. They’re sort of the brothers of me and Long-Claw, aren’t they? I mean, Mama Broken-Tooth nursed me and Long-Claw when we were just cubs, and now she’s nursing the three new ones. That sort of makes us relatives of some kind, doesn’t it?’

‘I suppose so, yes.’

‘Anyway, the three new cubs were making those funny little sounds bear-cubs always make when they’re nursing, and Mama Broken-Tooth was cuddling them like she used to cuddle Long-Claw and me when we were just cubs.’ He picked up the shiny stone. ‘This is an agate, isn’t it?’ he asked, holding it out to me.

I took the stone, but almost dropped it when I sensed the enormous power emanating from it. ‘I think you’re right, Ashad. Black agates are very rare, though.’

‘It’s pretty, and I really liked it when I first saw it. I asked Mama Broken-Tooth if I could have it, and she told me to go ahead and take it. I used to carry it with me wherever I went, but then I mislaid it, I guess, but when I woke up this morning, there it was right in my bed with me. Isn’t that odd?’

I laughed. ‘I think this might just be the year of “odd”, Ashad,’ I said. ‘It seems like every time I turn around there are piles and piles of “odd” staring me in the face. How did the rest of your bears come through this past winter?’

‘Just fine, uncle,’ Ashad replied. ‘There are lots and lots of new cubs.’ He suddenly grinned broadly, shaking off his gloomy expression. ‘Baby bears are so much fun. They do all sorts of funny things that make their mothers terribly grouchy. Just last week Mama Broken-Tooth was scooping fish out of a stream – you know, throwing them up on the riverbank the way bears always do – but her three cubs thought she was playing, so they were swatting the fish back into the stream. When she saw what they were doing, she came running out of the water, gave them a few swats, and then chased them up a tree and made them stay up there for the rest of the day. I laughed, but she growled at me. She didn’t seem to think it was funny at all.’

‘Will you be all right here by yourself for a few days, Ashad? I need to go talk with my brother and my sisters. There are some things they need to know about.’

‘I’ll be fine, uncle. I was over in the village of Asmie the other day, and Tlingar promised to teach me how to use a spear-thrower – that long, limber stick the man-things around here use to whip their spears out there a long, long way. Tlingar’s just about the best there is with the spear-thrower, isn’t he?’

‘He keeps the people of Asmie eating regularly, that much is certain,’ I agreed. ‘I shouldn’t be too long, Ashad. If you get tired of throwing spears, you might want to go play with Mama Broken-Tooth’s three cubs. If they’re as frisky as you suggested, poor Mama Broken-Tooth’s probably exhausted by now. Give her a little time to rest up. Like they always say, “Be nice to the neighbors, and they’ll be nice to you.” I’d better get started. I’d like to talk with Aracia before her priests get her involved in all those silly ceremonies.’

‘Say hello to Enalla for me, uncle.’

There it was again. Ashad had just used Aracia’s Dreamer Lillabeth’s real name. Despite all my careful manipulation, the Dreamers kept pulling bits and pieces of reality up through the barriers I’d put between them and the past. I shuddered to think of what might happen if the Dreamers stumbled across some things far more significant than just their names.

I told my tiny, glowing sun to stay behind, and then I went to the long, twisting passageway that led out to the open air.

The morning light of early summer was golden as I came up out of my cave under Mount Shrak. I summoned my thunderbolt and rode on down toward the south-east to the Domain of my elder sister Aracia.

Aracia’s Domain is much like the Domain of our baby brother Veltan, with vast wheat fields stretching from horizon to horizon like some enormous green carpet in the early summer sun. I hate to admit it, but the introduction of wheat farming and bread has brought much more stability to the Domains of Aracia and Veltan than the sometimes catch-as-catch-can quality of life in my Domain and Zelana’s, where the land is primarily devoted to hunting and fishing. There has to be more to life than just munching on a piece of half-moldy bread, though. I’m fairly sure that Aracia and Veltan view me as some sort of primitive antique, but I know better. The people of their Domains are little more than cattle. They move around in herds, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to discover that ‘moo’ crops up in their dialect quite frequently.

The people of my Domain – and of Zelana’s – are fiercely independent. Nobody – not even me or Zelana – tells them what they must do. To my way of looking at things, those farmers more closely resemble the mindless servants of the Vlagh than they do real people.

You don’t necessarily need to tell Aracia or Veltan that I just said that.

Where was I? Oh, yes, now I remember. I’m fairly certain that it was farming that ultimately led to religion in Aracia’s Domain. Once the spring planting is finished, a farmer really has nothing significant to do until harvesting in the autumn, and that gives him far too much time for speculation. As long as people concentrate on such things as what they are going to eat tomorrow or how they’re going to avoid freezing to death when winter rolls around again, there’s a certain practicality in their lives. It’s when the people have enough free time to begin asking such questions as ‘Who am I?’ or ‘How did I get here?’ that things start getting wormy.

I’ve periodically ranged out beyond the Land of Dhrall to observe the progress of the outlanders, and I’ve noticed that the more intelligent ones spend a lot of their time brooding about mysterious gods. That isn’t necessary here in the Land of Dhrall, of course, since it’s very likely that the god of any particular region lives just over the hill or down the street.

Some of the people of Aracia’s Domain saw a glorious opportunity there. Aracia could tamper with the weather, if she chose to, and that produced abundant crops, and the displays of gratitude of her subject people were usually grossly overdone. Had one of my people gone to such extremes, I’d have laughed in the fool’s face.

Aracia, however really enjoyed all the groveling and excessive displays of gratitude. Deep down, Aracia adores being adored. I’d been the first of our family to awaken during this cycle, so I was nominally in charge of things this time. Aracia had been the second to awaken, but deep in her heart she yearns to be first, so she encourages her people to continue their overdone displays of gratitude, and the more clever among them, sensing that need, exaggerate their thanks to the level of absurdity, erecting temples and altars, and prostrating themselves each time she passes.

Aracia thinks that’s awfully nice of them.

Aracia’s need for adoration has attracted many of the less industrious men of her domain, and over the years this has produced a sizeable town, and that in turn has brought assorted tradesmen to the place. I’m sure that Aracia’s temple-town is the closest thing to a city in the entire Land of Dhrall. The large stone buildings are covered with a white plaster and their roofs are made of red tile. The narrow streets have been paved over with large flagstones, and the town is at least a mile wide.

At the very center, of course, is Aracia’s enormous temple with gleaming white spires reaching up toward the sky. To be perfectly honest, the whole place seems just a little silly to me.

When my thunderbolt deposited me in Aracia’s marble-pillared throne-room, her overfed sycophants either fainted dead away or fled in terror. I smiled faintly. Nothing in the world seems to get everybody’s immediate attention more quickly than a thunderbolt.

Aracia’s golden throne stood on a marble pedestal, and there were red drapes behind it. ‘Have you ever considered letting me know when you’re coming, Dahlaine?’ my splendidly dressed sister demanded in an icy tone of voice.

‘I just did,’ I replied bluntly. ‘Are your ears starting to fail, Aracia? Any time you hear thunder, it’s probably me.’ I looked around my sister’s throne-room and saw a fair number of wide-eyed clergymen trying to conceal themselves behind the marble pillars at the sides of the vast chamber. ‘Let’s go find someplace private, dear sister. There are some things you should know about, and I don’t have all that much time.’

‘You’re very rude, Dahlaine. Did you know that?’

‘It’s a failing of mine. Over the years, I’ve found that “polite” is a waste of time, and I’m just a bit busy right now. Shall we go?’ I’ve long since discovered that abruptness is the best way to get Aracia’s immediate attention. Any time I give her the least bit of slack, she’ll lapse into ‘ceremonial’, and that usually takes at least half a day.

Aracia looked more than a little offended, but she did rise up from her golden throne and step down off the pedestal to lead the way out of her ornate throne-room.

‘What’s got you so stirred up today, big brother?’ Aracia asked as we proceeded down a long, deserted hallway.

‘Let’s hold off until we get to some private place,’ I suggested. ‘There’s trouble in the wind, and I don’t think we should alarm the people of your Domain just yet.’

Aracia led the way into a rather plain room and closed the door behind us. We sat down in large wooden chairs on opposite sides of an ornately carved table.

‘Are you sure that none of your people can hear us here?’

‘Of course they can’t, Dahlaine,’ she replied. ‘This room’s one of those “special” places. Nobody’ll be able to hear us, because the room isn’t really here.’

‘How did you manage that?’

She shrugged. ‘A slight adjustment of time is all it takes. This room is two days older than the rest of the temple, so we’re talking to each other two days ago.’

‘Clever,’ I said admiringly.

‘I’m glad you like it. What’s happening that’s got you so stirred up, Dahlaine?’

‘Ashad had one of those dreams last night, dear sister. Evidently the Vlagh didn’t learn too much in Zelana’s Domain, so it’s sending its servants South toward Veltan’s Domain – or it will before much longer. Ashad’s dream was a bit more complicated than Yaltar’s was when he saw the invasion of Zelana’s Domain though, and some things were cropping up that I didn’t quite understand. He told me about two separate – and evidently unrelated – invasions and a very complex war near the Falls of Vash. That’s another thing that kept cropping up as well. Ashad referred to Yaltar by his real name – in much the same way that Yaltar kept referring to Eleria as “Balacenia”. I almost choked the first time Ashad said “Vash” when he spoke of Yaltar.’

‘I told you that bringing in our alternates was a mistake, Dahlaine. If our Dreamers wake up and come to their senses, the whole world might collapse in on itself.’

‘They do seem to be stepping around some of the barriers I put in place, Aracia,’ I admitted, ‘but it’s too late to do anything about it now. The Vlagh’s evidently going to keep trying to overrun us, and we don’t have time to raise a new group of Dreamers. Has Lillabeth had any of those dreams yet?’

‘Not that she’s told me about,’ Aracia replied. ‘I’ve been a bit busy here lately, though.’

‘Does being worshiped and adored really take that much time, Aracia?’

‘No, but running back and forth to the Isle of Akalla to negotiate with Trenicia does. She’s not really interested in gold, so I’ve had to find something else to get her interest.’

‘Who’s Trenicia?’ I asked curiously.

‘She’s the queen of the warrior women of Akalla.’

‘Do women really make very good warriors?’

‘If they’re big enough, they do. Trenicia’s almost as big as Sorgan Hook-Beak, and she’s probably more skilled with a sword than he’ll ever be.’

‘Impressive,’ I conceded, ‘but if she doesn’t want gold, how are you paying her?’

‘With diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires,’ Aracia replied. ‘They’re warriors, but they’re still women, so they love adornment. For a good diamond necklace, a woman from Akalla will kill anybody – or anything – that gets in her way.’

‘If the women rule the Isle of Akalla, what are the men doing?’

‘They’re something on the order of house pets, Dahlaine. If I understood what Trenicia told me correctly, the men of the Isle of Akalla have raised indolence to an art form. On Akalla, everything is women’s work.’

‘Even war?’ That startled me.

‘Especially war. The men of Akalla are lazy and timid and generally useless – except as breeding stock.’

I chose not to pursue that particular comment. ‘It just occurs to me that maybe you and I might want to consider taking Queen Trenicia and the horse soldier Ekial with us to the war in Veltan’s Domain,’ I said. ‘They’ll probably be fighting the servants of the Vlagh before much longer, it wouldn’t hurt for them to see what they’ll be coming up against.’

‘You might be right, Dahlaine,’ Aracia agreed. ‘As I recall, the Maags and Trogites weren’t too happy when Zelana finally got around to telling them about some of the peculiarities of the enemy. Maybe you and I should try honesty rather than deception.’

‘What an unnatural thing to suggest, Aracia,’ I joked. ‘I’m shocked at you. Shocked!’

‘Oh, quit!’ she said.

And then we both laughed.

My thunderbolt took me across the lower edge of the Wasteland, and I peered down at the sand and rocks rather closely on the off-chance that I might see the servants of the Vlagh moving toward our young brother’s Domain, but as far as I could tell, the desert below was void of any kind of life.

The twin volcanos at the head of the ravine above Lattash were still belching fire as I rode my thunderbolt into Zelana’s Domain, and I was quite certain the eruption would continue for years. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that perhaps I should have put some limitations on the capabilities of the Dreamers. They were children, after all, and children sometimes get carried away and overly enthusiastic. The only problem I saw with that notion was how. Despite their immaturity, the Dreamers had virtually unlimited power over the forces of nature, and I ruefully conceded that they could quite probably step over any barrier I might have tried to put in their way. My original idea had seemed to be a perfect solution to a serious problem, but perhaps I should have given it just a bit more thought.

I cast out a searching thought and sensed Zelana’s presence about halfway down the north side of the bay, and I directed my thunderbolt to that spot.

Zelana was talking with Red-Beard and Longbow in what appeared to be a village in the final stages of construction some distance down the bay from Lattash. The rounded hills behind that new village had gentler slopes than the steep peaks somewhat to the east of Lattash, there was a patch of woods just to the north of the new village, and a meadow that stretched for miles beyond those woods.

‘Do you have to do that, Dahlaine?’ Zelana demanded peevishly when I suddenly joined them. ‘Isn’t there some way you can muffle that awful noise?’

‘I don’t think so, Zelana. Lightning is the fastest way to travel, but you have to put up with the noise. Ashad’s been dreaming, and it seems that our speculation came pretty close to the mark. Ashad’s dream confirmed the fact that the creatures of the Wasteland will attack Veltan’s Domain next.’

‘Did your boy’s dream give you any specifics about just where we’ll encounter the servants of the Vlagh?’ the archer Longbow asked.

‘Somewhere in the vicinity of the Falls of Vash,’ I replied. I looked curiously at Zelana. ‘I gather that you’ve changed your mind and decided to help the rest of us defend our Domains,’ I suggested.

‘The Land of Dhrall is all one piece, brother mine. If the Vlagh wins any part of it, we’ll all be in danger.’

I hesitated. ‘Are you feeling better now, dear sister?’ I asked. ‘We were all very worried when you suddenly decided to go home to your grotto.’

‘No, Dahlaine,’ she replied tartly, ‘I’m not feeling better, but Eleria bullied me into coming back out into the world of chaos.’

‘Bullied? She’s just a little girl, Zelana. How could she bully you?’

‘She told me that if I didn’t want to help Veltan, she’d take over and do it herself. Once she takes off that sweet mask she wears all the time, she can be very cruel. She didn’t leave me any choice at all. I think that pearl of hers might have something to do with that.’

‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ I agreed. ‘Those jewels seem to be deeply involved in the children’s dreams. Ashad has one too, and I think it had something to do with that dream of his.’

‘What sort of jewel is it?’ Zelana asked curiously.

‘A black agate. It’s really rather pretty, and Ashad seems quite attached to it.’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a black agate. Where did he find it?’

‘It was in the back of Mama Broken-Tooth’s cave.’

‘Who’s Mama Broken-Tooth?’

‘The she-bear who nursed him when he was a baby.’

‘Wasn’t it a little dangerous to hand your little boy over to a bear?’

I shook my head. ‘Not really,’ I replied. ‘She-bears give birth to their cubs while they’re hibernating, and when they wake up, the cubs are nursing or playing in the cave. They automatically bond with the cubs they nurse, so Ashad wasn’t in any danger. Mama Broken-Tooth had already given birth to her cub Long-Claw when I took Ashad to her cave, and Ashad and Long-Claw think of themselves as brothers.’ I looked around. ‘Where’s Eleria right now?’ I asked quietly.

‘She and Yaltar are out in that meadow just beyond the trees,’ Red-Beard told me. ‘Planter’s looking after them.’

‘Who’s Planter?’

‘She’s the one who teaches the women of the tribe how to grow food,’ Red-Beard explained, ‘and the one the women go to when they have problems. She can be a little blunt sometimes, but she knows what she’s doing.’

‘You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you, Dahlaine?’ Zelana asked pointedly.

‘I was just getting to that, dear sister. Ashad’s dream was fairly specific about the invasion of Veltan’s Domain by the creatures of the Wasteland, but he mentioned a second invasion that won’t come from the Wasteland. It’s going to come from the sea.’

‘That’s ridiculous, Dahlaine,’ Zelana scoffed. ‘Has the Vlagh allied itself with the queen of the fish now?’

‘I’m just passing on what Ashad told me, Zelana. Where’s Veltan? We’d better go tell him what’s afoot.’

‘He’s out in the bay on the Trogite ship of Commander Narasan,’ Red-Beard replied. ‘Longbow can take you out there in his canoe, if you’d like. I’d do it myself, but I’m just a little busy right now.’

‘Is there trouble of some kind?’

‘Sort of. The fire-mountains destroyed Lattash, so the tribe’s busy setting up a new village out here. It might not be as pretty, but it’s safer.’

I looked at the partially-completed lodges near the beach. ‘Those don’t look at all like the ones back in Lattash,’ I observed, ‘but they seem sort of familiar, for some reason.’

‘They should,’ Longbow told me. ‘They’re copies of the lodges up in the north of your Domain.’

‘It’s part of a fairly elaborate deception, big brother,’ Zelana said with a faint smile. ‘The men of Chief Red-Beard’s tribe believe that growing food is “women’s work”, and that it’s beneath them. The women needed help in preparing the ground for planting, and Longbow’s chief, Old-Bear, told these two that some tribes in your Domain live in a vast grassland where there aren’t any trees, and they build their lodges out of sod instead of tree branches. The men of Red-Beard’s tribe built the usual lodges out of tree limbs and then sat around loafing and telling each other war stories. But one windy night these two slipped around pulling down the new lodges. When the sun came up, they walked around with sombre faces telling the men of the tribe that tree limbs weren’t sturdy enough for lodges out here, and that they were going to need something more solid. They suggested sod, and the men of the tribe are out in that meadow cutting sod for all they’re worth. The women of the tribe are coming along behind them planting seeds. Red-Beard’s tribe will have nice sturdy lodges and plenty to eat when winter arrives, and nobody was offended.’

‘Clever,’ I said admiringly. Then I frowned. ‘Has something happened to old Chief White-Braid?’ I asked.

‘The destruction of Lattash was more than he could bear,’ Red-Beard explained sadly. ‘He knew that the tribe was going to have to find a new place to live, but he didn’t feel up to doing it himself because his sorrow – or maybe even grief – had disabled him to the point that he couldn’t make decisions any more. He realized that, so he laid the chore on my shoulders. I didn’t really want any part of it, but he didn’t give me any choice.’

‘You’ll probably do quite well, Chief Red-Beard,’ I told him. ‘I’ve noticed that men who don’t really want authority and responsibility make better leaders than men who yearn for the position. Let’s go talk with our baby brother, Zelana. There are things he needs to know, and I’m not sure how much time he has left.’

Longbow led my sister and me down to the beach where his canoe was resting on the sand. There’s a quality about Zelana’s archer that I find more than a little awesome. He’s a bleak-faced man whose war with the creatures of the Wasteland had begun when he’d been hardly more than a child, and killing the servants of the Vlagh had been his only purpose in life. He was a grim man with very few friends and an almost inhuman level of self-control.

It occurred to me that we might all want to keep this man around. If all went well, we’d turn back the servants of the Vlagh wherever and whenever they attempted to invade our individual Domains, but in all probability, the Vlagh would still be there. Longbow might very well be the answer to that problem. A single venom-tipped arrow would send the creatures of the Wasteland down the road to extinction, and that, of course, was our ultimate goal.

Longbow pulled his canoe down to the water and held it in place while Zelana and I climbed into it, and then he pushed it clear and stepped into the stern all in one motion.

‘I think our baby brother’s on board Narasan’s ship, Longbow,’ Zelana suggested.

‘Probably so,’ Longbow agreed. He paddled us out across the bay to the oversized Trogite ship of Commander Narasan, where the young soldier called Keselo stood waiting for us at the rail. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked as Longbow smoothly pulled his canoe in alongside the ship.

‘Not really,’ Zelana replied. ‘We just came by to tell our baby brother that it’s time to go to work.’

‘Has Eleria been dreaming again?’

‘No, young man,’ I told him. ‘It was my little boy, Ashad, this time, and there were some very peculiar things involved. We’re hoping that Veltan might be able to explain them for us.’ I paused for a moment. ‘Now that I think about it, though, you can probably explain them even better than Veltan. Why don’t you come along?’

‘Of course. Your brother’s back in Commander Narasan’s cabin at the stern.’

‘Is Narasan with him?’ Zelana asked.

‘No, Lady Zelana. The commander’s over on the Seagull conferring with Captain Sorgan.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure that Narasan’s going to be very happy about some of the peculiarities that showed up in Ashad’s dream. Is your commander particularly religious?’

‘Not noticeably,’ Keselo replied. ‘Is that likely to be very significant?’

‘We’ll get to that in just a few minutes. Let’s go talk with Veltan.’

‘All right,’ the young man replied, turning and leading us back toward the ornate, almost house-like structure at the aft end of the ship. He rapped politely on the door.

‘Come in,’ Veltan’s voice came from inside.

Keselo opened the door and stood aside to let us go on in ahead of him.

The cabin was much more ornate than I’d really expected. In some ways it resembled a room in a house rather than part of a ship. The ceiling wasn’t very high, and, since the sailors used the cabin’s roof as a deck, there were substantial beams to keep the ceiling from tumbling down on those who slept there. There was also a large window across the back of the cabin to give the people inside the cabin something to look at. All in all, I thought the whole thing was just a bit silly, but I decided not to make an issue of that.

Veltan was seated at a large table examining a map. ‘Is something amiss?’

‘Not really,’ I told him. ‘At least not yet. My little boy Ashad had one of those dreams last night, and we were right about one thing, at least. The servants of the Vlagh will be coming your way soon.’

‘Did he tell you exactly when?’

‘“When” never comes up in these dreams, Veltan,’ I told him. ‘You should know that by now. Now we come to the complicated part. Ashad told me that there was a second invasion in his dream, and those particular invaders had absolutely no connection with the servants of the Vlagh.’

‘Who were they, then?’

‘As closely as I was able to determine, they were Trogites, and they wanted to talk to your people about their gods. How much were you able to discover about somebody called Amar?’

‘Not too much, big brother,’ Veltan replied. ‘Narasan has nothing but contempt for the clergy of the Amarite faith.’

‘He’s not alone there, Veltan,’ Keselo said. ‘Anyone in the Trogite Empire with the least bit of decency or intelligence despises the Amarite church. The clergy is corrupt, greedy beyond belief, and totally without honor. It’s common knowledge that the “church” is nothing more than an invention of the priesthood designed to swindle the ordinary people of the empire out of just about everything they own.’

‘That has a familiar ring, doesn’t it?’ Zelana observed. ‘Our dear sister has a priesthood that behaves in much the same way.’

I shrugged. ‘It makes her happy, I suppose.’ I looked at Veltan. ‘Where’s the rest of Narasan’s army?’ I asked. ‘If I understood correctly, the men he brought to Lattash were just an advance force.’

‘The bulk of Narasan’s army’s still in the port of Castano on the north shore of the Empire. Why do you ask, big brother?’

‘The second invasion in Ashad’s dream almost had to involve Trogites, since this “Amar” is a Trogite invention.’

‘That’s true, I suppose,’ Veltan conceded. ‘Where are we going with this, Dahlaine?’

I looked inquiringly at Keselo. ‘I gather that most of the men in Narasan’s army share your feelings about this so-called religion,’ I suggested. ‘Is it at all possible that some of them feel differently, but they’re keeping it to themselves?’

‘Not after what happened in the southern part of the empire last year,’ he replied. ‘We lost twelve cohorts as a direct result of a deception that we tracked back to a high-ranking clergyman in the Amarite church. That’s why Commander Narasan threw his sword away and went into business as a beggar. If any man in the army even suggested that the Amarite church had anything even remotely resembling decency, his comrades would kick the living daylights out of him.’

‘Let’s not dismiss the possibility entirely, Keselo,’ Veltan said with a troubled look on his face. ‘From what I’ve heard, the word “gold” sends the Amarite church into a feeding frenzy, and if I remember correctly, there was some extended discussion of gold in the army compound back in Kaldacin. Just for the sake of argument, let’s say that some soldier in your army happened to visit a tavern in Castano, and the word “gold” came up during a casual conversation, and somebody affiliated with the Amarite Church happened to overhear the conversation. Wouldn’t that sort of explain the second invasion in Ashad’s dream?’

‘It doesn’t really fit,’ Keselo disagreed. ‘The Amarite church might want to come here to the Land of Dhrall to harvest gold and slaves, but they’d need to know exactly how to get through all that floating ice, and Gunda and Padan have the only maps.’

‘That’s true, I suppose,’ Veltan conceded, ‘but Narasan told me that he could field a hundred thousand soldiers. It’d only take one opportunist to blow away any chance of secrecy. I think that’s the answer to the origins of that second invasion in your little boy’s dream, Dahlaine.’

‘It would explain it, I guess,’ I agreed. Then I looked at Keselo again. ‘Just exactly what are “slaves”?’ I asked him. ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that word before.’

‘You’ve been very lucky, then. It was a fairly standard custom back in the early days of the Empire for the Imperial armies to capture people of more primitive cultures and then sell them to the landowners of the Empire itself, almost as if they were cattle. Then the landowners would hire men with whips to drive the unfortunates to do the actual farming. The practice fell into disuse a hundred or so years ago, but a few decades back the Church realized the she’d been passing up a wonderful opportunity to make money, so the slavers are back in business again, and at least half of them are members of the clergy.’

Veltan’s face went dead white. ‘If those monsters even come close to the shores of my Domain, I’ll destroy them!’

‘No, Veltan,’ I told him quite firmly, ‘you won’t. Killing anything is absolutely forbidden, and you know it. If you tried something like that, you’d be banished forever, and it wouldn’t be to the moon this time. You’d spend the rest of eternity in a place of absolute darkness where the only sounds you’d hear would be your own screams of endless despair. I’m sure we’ll be able to find some suitable alternatives, but if you even try to kill anything, I’ll tie you up in a knot so tight that it’ll take you about four cycles just to unlace your fingers from your toes.’

‘So that’s why you people had to rush around hiring armies!’ Keselo exclaimed. ‘I’ve never really understood why you didn’t just obliterate the enemies with a wave of your hand. It was because you’re not permitted to kill anything, isn’t it?’

‘I want you to forget what you just heard, young man,’ I told him firmly. ‘Do you understand me?’

‘Why, yes, I believe I do.’

‘Good.’ I looked over at my brother, ‘You’d better tell Narasan to start moving his fleet, Veltan,’ I suggested. ‘We’ve finished everything here in Zelana’s Domain, so it’s time to move on. Ashad’s dream wasn’t too specific about time. That seems to be one of the characteristics of these dreams. Our Dreamers can give us all kinds of details about what’s going to happen, but “when” always seems a little vague.’

‘Did Ashad happen to mention where the main battle’s likely to take place?’ Veltan asked.

‘He said that it would be in the general vicinity of the Falls of Vash, little brother. He wasn’t too specific, and I didn’t want to push him.’

Veltan winced. ‘That’s very rugged country up there, big brother. I don’t think the Trogites will like the idea of fighting on ground like that.’

‘It can’t be much worse than the ravine above Lattash was, can it?’ Zelana asked.

‘It makes that ravine look like a gentle meadow, sister mine,’ Veltan replied glumly. ‘It wasn’t even there at the end of my last cycle. When I woke up, the man-things of my Domain seemed to be very excited about it. I’m not sure exactly why Vash created the falls, but they are spectacular to look at. Looking is one thing, but walking around up there’s something entirely different. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Yaltar’s twin volcanos are an outgrowth of what he’d done when his name was Vash. The river that tumbles over the falls originates in a geyser that spouts up about a hundred feet into the air, and that’s got a fairly strong odor of earthquakes and eruptions. There’s a fault line just south of that geyser, and it left a sheer face about two hundred feet high a mile or so downstream from the geyser. With all that water tumbling over the edge, it’s impossible to climb up that cliff, so anybody who wants to get up there has to take a different route.’ Veltan stopped and suddenly snapped his fingers. ‘I should have known that this was coming!’ he exclaimed. ‘Last spring Omago told me that some strangers had been asking questions about the Falls of Vash. I had my mind on other things at the time, so I didn’t pursue it. Evidently, the Vlagh’s been sending scouts out into our Domains for quite a while now.’

‘Who’s Omago?’ Zelana asked.

‘He’s a very solid, dependable fellow with an extensive orchard near my house. He knows more about farming than anybody else in my Domain does, and he’s a very good listener. Other farmers come to him for advice, and they tell him about any unusual things that are happening. Then he passes them onto me.’

‘He’s the chief, then?’ Longbow asked.

‘I wouldn’t go quite that far, Longbow. He gives advice, not orders.’

‘It sort of amounts to the same thing, wouldn’t you say? A good chief does things that way. Only bad chieftains order their men around. Fortunately, they don’t usually last very long.’

‘He’s got a point there, Veltan,’ I agreed. ‘You might want to consider getting word to this Omago fellow. Let him know what’s in the wind, and have him pass the word along. Your people should know that the creatures of the Wasteland are coming, and they need to start getting ready for war.’

‘That’s absurd, Dahlaine,’ Veltan scoffed. ‘My people don’t even know what the word “war” means. That’s why I had to hire Narasan’s army. Omago can probably make certain that the hired soldiers get plenty to eat, but that’s likely to be his only contribution during the war.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Of course, if we can persuade Ara to do the cooking, we might have some trouble persuading the outlanders to go home after the war’s over.’

‘Who’s Ara?’ Zelana asked.

‘Omago’s wife. She’s a beautiful lady and quite probably the best cook in the world. The smells that come from her kitchen even tempt me sometimes.’

‘Oh, incidentally, Veltan,’ I cut in, ‘Aracia and I’d like to bring the commanders of the armies we’ve been hiring down to your Domain to observe. I’m sure they’ll be coming up against the servants of the Vlagh sometime soon, and it might not be a bad idea for them to see what they’ll encounter.’

‘No problem, big brother,’ Veltan said with an impudent sort of grin. ‘I’ll go tell Narasan and Sorgan that it’s time to go South, and then I’ll have my pet take me home so that I can have a talk with Omago. For right now, that’s about as far as we can go. Everything’s sort of up in the air at this point, so we might have to make things up as we go along.’

‘What else is new and different?’ I said sourly. ‘Looking back, I’d say that we’ve been doing that since the very beginning.’

‘Of this war, you mean?’ Zelana suggested.

‘I wouldn’t limit it to that, my sister. We’ve been making things up as we went along since the beginning of time, haven’t we?’

‘It makes life much more interesting, big brother,’ she said with an impish sort of grin. ‘Things always seem to get so boring if you know exactly what’s going to happen, don’t they?’

I chose not to answer that particular question.