Demon Night, page 14
Sonja could think of no immediate answer.
Saureb told her: “I can often read your mind as easily as if it were written on a parchment in your native tongue, Red Sonja. Nor does it take sorcery to do so. You are afraid of me.”
Sonja’s blue eyes glowered; she tensed, sat up straight.
Again Saureb laughed. “Yes, yes, yes! Calm yourself! See how easily I may provoke you? You are still a young woman, Red Sonja—in some ways, very young. Yes, I know the terrible burden destiny has placed upon you. Yes, I know how you suffer in following the road of your life, with ashes on one side and ice on the other. But being burdened with a destiny does not always grant immense wisdom. I know! And you, like anyone else—like myself—are as much a victim of your own personality and private history as of any fate the gods have laid on your heart.”
Sonja had not expected this; Saureb’s comments bit her to the core. They were not scathing, not meant to cause pain. They were merely—truthful.
“I often wonder at Fate, or Destiny,” he continued, in a dreamier, more general way, staring into the flames. “I am greatly burdened. Aye, everyone faces choices every day of his life—but most men accept what befalls them and fight back only when circumstances affect their basest and most selfish motives or instincts. And yet I, who am possessed of great powers, am now faced with a difficult choice—and I wonder if I am following the course of a grand Destiny, or merely bowing to personal and selfish motives.”
Sonja was intrigued. “What choices are you talking about, Saureb?”
Without pause he said: “Whether I should or should not destroy that city in the valley.”
For a moment, Sonja was stunned; then she found voice.
“Saureb, even if you had the magical power to do so, by what right could you presume to even consider such a thing?”
“Rights are created by men of power and vision, not innate in the fabric of existence,” said Saureb. “I look into my mirror and I see the degradation and injustice and mercilessness of Elkad—and it strikes me that, if I cannot change or destroy mankind at large, I can perhaps at least cleanse this world of one foul city!”
Sonja was angry. “If your mirror shows you things you don’t care to see, Saureb, then perhaps you shouldn’t look in your mirror!”
Once more Saureb was brought to a smile. “But that would not alter what the mirror shows, would it? Or alter my responsibilities? Yet sometimes I wonder if I am master of the demons of that mirror, or trapped by them. Again, that ultimate question…”
“Responsibilities?” Sonja countered, still angry. She felt Tiamu stir sleepily beside her.
“Let me put it this way,” replied the sorcerer. “Did you, Sonja, not want to see the mercenary destroyed for what he did to you so long ago?”
Her pained, instantly angry expression told him so.
“Aye, Sonja—I have seen in my mirror something of what you yourself suffered. Did you not wait five years in hopes of revenge against the one who did you the harm and set you upon your painful, lifelong wandering? So it is with me. I have a responsibility to myself which is intertwined with those people in the city. And now I must ask myself—am I the destined, or am I Destiny?”
Sonja countered: “What harm have they ever done you?”
“What harm does man against the gods—those whom he professes to love, yet curses every day of his life? My mentor, Zarutha, laid this task upon me—would that he had made it a command, rather than leaving me to judge whether the folk of Elkad deserve such a doom! Still, my judgement is even as I think his would have been—and soon that judgement will be set in motion. Aye, there are more profound causes for my responsibility than simple vengeance. They do not know me in the city, yet they do know me; they worshipped me indirectly as the ‘god’ Zarutha—begged my forgiveness for themselves and my wrath for their enemies. And now that I have faced them and made magic against them, the mystery is shattered, and reality will come. The time of Muthsa’s prophecy hastens to its finish, and soon we shall play our parts in it.
“But—do I control the demons of my mirror, or they me? Am I master of my sorcery, or is it my master? Do we control life, or does it control us?”
“All this means little to me, Saureb. I would ask you a question of more immediate import.”
“And what might that be?”
“You mentioned the parts we are all to play in this—this Destiny you talk of.” Sonja drew a breath, then went on. “What is Keldum’s part?”
“Do you think he has one?”
“Don’t game with me, wizard!” Sonja’s blue eyes blazed dangerously. “Why did you spare him when you blasted his company with sorcerous fire? You could have slain him easily—but you didn’t.”
Saureb sighed. “You know the world is full of strange things, Sonja, but here is a thing you may scarcely believe: Keldum is a True Spirit, even as are the three of us here in this caves
“What? That vile—?”
She caught herself, seeing that her outburst had wakened Tiamu. Then, in a quieter tone, she continued. “I don’t understand, Saureb—that man is as vile and arrogant as any I’ve ever met. If he’s one of your ‘True Spirits,’ then what meaning of any value can that term possibly have?”
“The greatest meaning—the meaning that differentiates some people from the animals.” Saureb scowled as if gathering his thoughts, then went on: “True Spirits are capable of the greatest good and the greatest evil—in both capacities, they surpass the common man’s comprehension. Sometimes, to their detriment, they can even emulate the common man—but the common man can never emulate, nor even understand, them. This Keldum—I fear he is a True Spirit corrupted.”
Tiamu, fully awake now, ventured to ask: “This Keldum-—is he the man who… who…?”
“Who caused you the outrage? No—that was his underling, a man named Gevem, in whom dwells no spark of nobility.”
“Yet—” Tiamu’s face grew pained. “—he did—the greatest evil…”
“Oh, Tiamu!” exclaimed the wizard, his face suddenly showing a tenderness Sonja had never seen in him before. “His evil was of the greatest—but in its effects only. He was but a dog, obeying his appetites. Such men are not capable of any greatness, whether for good or evil—”
“Then all such dogs should die, and burn in the hells forever!” cried the girl. “No four-footed dog was ever so vile!”
Saureb, stretching out his hand and resting it upon Tiamu’s blond head, intoned in a level voice: “Sleep now, for you will need your strength on the morrow.”
Tiamu’s pained features relaxed; she closed her eyes, and in another moment seemed to be sleeping soundly.
“I thank you, wizard,” said Sonja, “but lay no such magical sleep upon me, I pray you. I’ll get my rest like a warrior, even if it’s between battles. And I hope we’ll not all prove to be pawns, in the end, in your game with the gods.”
Saureb rose. “Still you do not understand, Red Sonja— but perhaps that is as well. Go to your rest now, for I think that you, too, will need strength tomorrow. We play no games with gods, but go forth to meet Destiny.”
* * *
The question of Destiny was not one uppermost in Gevem’s mind as he stood in a solitary chamber with Captain Keldum—a chamber dimly lit by torches tossing in a wind from open windows. Gevem was drinking wine and pondering something immediate, yet, to his mind, infinitely fateful.
Their troops had bunked in other rooms of Hefei’s palace, while Hefei herself, unable to rest or quiet her mind after the events she had gone through, could be heard crying out in the room adjoining Gevem and Keldum’s.
“Listen to her,” Gevem growled, setting aside his wine.
Keldum nodded, trying to ignore the noise.
Through the walls came Mistress Hefei’s endless wail of self-torment. “What have I done? O gods, I beseech you for some mercy! Why do you hate me? Did I not love you enough?”
Gevem burped and sipped more wine, then suddenly turned and confronted his commander. “I have a question for you, Captain.”
“What is it?”
Gevem almost smiled at the surly, angry sound of Keldum’s voice. “No noise in the streets,” he said. “Must be the first time in many an hour. Hefei’s gone mad—a third of our troops are dead—and now Red Sonja’s holed up in the mountains with a sorcerer. Quite a good joke, isn’t it?”
“You’re drunk, Gevem.”
“But I still have a question to ask you.”
“Then ask it, damn you to the hells!”
Gevem, his awe of Keldum somewhat dampened by intoxication, flopped into a chair and leaned close; his winey breath blew upon Keldum as he spoke. “I wonder, my lord—I truly wonder, and perhaps you can enlighten me— because I wonder at the time we have lost, all the death and misery and all of it—I wonder—do you want the captaincy of the fort? Is that why you continue this charade, and lead us all to ruin? Is that why you’re chasing Red Sonja—to foist upon her the guilt of your own crime?”
Keldum, barely breathing, hesitated only a moment; then he stood up slowly, leaned forward and gripped Gevem by his jerkin. His face was dark with a grim, hard anger.
“You’re drunk,” he growled evenly. “You’re drunk—or else I’d stab you through the heart for speaking so presumptuously.”
Then he turned on his heel and strode from the room, perhaps to pace the corridors of the palace in wrathful thought.
Gevem, shaken in spite of himself, rose unsteadily and poured more wine into his cup.
“No,” he said in a low whisper to the torches. “No, my lord Keldum. I am not drunk—not very. A little drunk, maybe. But I am still saner than you, and I know when to abandon a mad quest…”
Chapter Ten
Saureb had not summoned them, yet he could sense the Earth-folk as he peered thoughtfully into his mirror. Somewhere just beyond his sight the Folk swelled and contracted invisibly, inhumanly, sentient, aware.
Aware that they had not feasted.
“You stir,” muttered the sorcerer. “You sense that great changes are upon the land, upon the city—aye, that changes are upon even Saureb, your keeper. You have felt the surge of the fire of Belthal, which I used in a recent sorcery, and now you grope for release from the invisible magical walls that hold you. Grope, then, ye fiery servitors of the Primal Gods —grope toward your great awakening!”
Free us! You who feel our hunger—free us!
Thunder rumbled and echoed faintly through the rock.
Smash the mirror—smash the prison!
Thunder rumbled again, as it had done ever more frequently since he had blasted the Zamorans with magic. Saureb heard it now even in his dreams. The hills—rumbling like beaten drums…
We do not hunger forever—we await the time of the moon and the Feasting. Smash the mirror—smash the prison!
Thunder rumbling, echoing…
Saureb heard them even in his dreams.
“Yet sometimes I wonder if 1 am master of the demons of that mirror, or if I am trapped by them,” he muttered. “What did Sonja tell me? ‘If your mirror shows you things you don’t care to see, Saureb, then perhaps you shouldn’t look in your mirror!’ Ha!—there is wisdom of a sort here, but such ostrich-wisdom was not taught me by my great mentor. O Zarutha, would that I could destroy this city out of love for it, as you would do, rather than from disgust!”
Thunder rumbling, echoing… .
We do not hunger forever! the Earth-folk whispered voicelessly.
* * *
Late that night Uss came again to his library and found Sost still there, deep in the study of magical texts by lamplight.
“What do you here so soon?” asked Sost. “It’s still nearly two hours before the dawn.”
“There has been a change in plans. I have been summoned to the palace by the Zamorans. It seems Mistress Hefei is experiencing a delirium, and I must tend to her.” Uss went to a small cabinet and took forth a number of small vials and physicians’ implements.
“What do you want me to do?”
Uss turned toward the young priest. “You’ll have to do the divination on your own. The guards will have instructions to admit you to the palace. Now, listen: I want you to go to Mophis’ chamber to perform the ritual—there are a few books and ingredients there that even this library does not contain. Most importantly, there is a divining-mirror of great potency which used to belong to the prophet Muthsa himself. You’ll also find articles there that belonged to the girl, Tiamu—I used them in my previous attempts. I hate to entrust this task to an amateur, but right now I have more important things to attend to—and this coming dawn is most propitious, with the sun on the ascendant almost in exact opposition to the moon. And one more thing, Sost—if you learn anything, don’t try to hold it back from me. I have ways to pry it out of your mind.”
So saying, Uss thrust his vials and implements into a pocket of his priestly robes, then turned and left the room. Sost’s face was expressionless as he gazed after him.
Uss strode hurriedly through the central court, then down the long corridor that connected the main temple with the palace. The Zamoran guards at its far end, expecting him, let him pass. In another minute he was in the chambers where Hefei was confined with two of her handmaidens.
The Mistress was seated on a divan. “I’m glad you are here, Uss,” she said, “but—I did not send for you.”
Uss looked at her closely. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there was an unusual sadness in her heavy face, but otherwise she seemed composed enough.
“Keldum sent for me,” said the priest. “He said you were raving in a delirium. I understand you were talking about— many things.”
“I was indeed, Uss, but it is over now. My soul has been through a great ordeal this night. But now the ordeal is over, for at last I have come to a decision. You have no idea, Uss, what a weight has been lifted from my heart in this hour. I have decided to abolish the sacrifices!”
Uss stiffened slightly. Hefei did not miss his reaction.
“I shall explain it all to you, Uss. After all, you are now high priest—”
“I am also your physician now, My Lady—and, seeing that you appear feverish, I ask permission to examine you.”
Hefei nodded, and while Uss arranged his instruments and began his examination she went on: “My husband—Arlaid, the King—he was a great man. I knew it when he lived, but I know it even more now. Often he told me that the sacrifices, far from being a protection from the Folk, were an affront to the gods, who would someday destroy us all for offending their nostrils with the smell of innocent blood. Little did I believe him then—but now, the gods themselves have revealed to me that he was right, for in the darkest moment of my soul the god Zarutha himself appeared to me and confirmed it.”
“What?” Uss started up. Then, at Hefei’s scowl of surprise: “I beg pardon, My Lady. You say this—vision—bade you abolish the sacrifices?”
“Aye—and many other things he told me, the most of which I cannot remember. This only I know—that never did the voice of any other inspire me with such hope!”
“One must beware of demons impersonating gods,” Uss muttered.
“Uss, you know not what you are saying. Could you have heard this being speaking to you—!”
“Very well, Mistress. We will talk much of this on the morrow, I am sure. But now, I think you should rest.”
“Uss, we must make peace with the Zamorans—give them such ransom as they require, and let them go. They would not have dealt with us so cruelly had we not first offered them treachery. But most of all, we must release our own people from the burden of fear which they have borne for so long. We must abolish the sacrifices…”
“Aye.” Uss mixed the contents of two vials in a small goblet, then handed it to Hefei. “All this we shall discuss, as you wish. But now, as your physician, I urge you to rest. This is a potion that will still your mind and let you sleep. Drink it; you will need your strength on the morrow.”
Hefei did so automatically, then set the goblet on a small table before her. “You will see, Uss—you will see that I am right. I know you are doubtful now, but you will see.”
“Sleep now, Mistress Hefei.”
The queen lay back on the couch, her eyes already closing; Uss gathered up his vials, his implements and the goblet from which she had drunk. The old priest squinted at her for a moment, closely, appraisingly—and it suddenly struck him that he had never seen such a look of peace on her features.
Uss stole silently from the chamber.
“We must abolish the sacrifices…” Hefei said sleepily.
No longer moaning and questioning after the gods, the Mistress of the city, murmuring prayers to her dead husband and her deities and the shade of the prophet Muthsa, had fallen asleep on her couch. One of her maidservants inquired after her a short time later; seeing that her lady lay quietly, the girl did not approach more closely for fear of waking her. It was not until nearly dawn that her physician, Uss, entered to inspect her again and found her dead. There was no sign of breath upon the mirror he held before her still face; and so immediately he called in a subordinate priest to make all the necessary absolutions and gesticulations of piety before the sight of the gods.
* * *
Sost stood alone within the quiet chamber of Mophis. Already it smelled somewhat stuffy, and he guessed it was because of the powders Uss had been burning there. The doors and shutters were closed, and the only light came from two dim oil lamps Sost had lit. On the wall before him hung a round, silvery mirror, curved like a warrior’s shield.
“The mirror of Muthsa,” muttered Sost, a strange thrill stealing over him. “Is this the burnished surface wherein you saw your many visions, old prophet? And how many more visions since then have the priests of this temple seen…?”
