Three days later, Chanter appeared and stayed for two days, basking in Sheera’s delighted pampering. He left the day Travain returned, as if he sensed his son’s impending arrival. Talsy spent many hours trying to explain to the boy how he should word his Wish, but Travain appeared self-absorbed and distant.
Hoping that he had at least listened, she gave up bombarding him with advice and concentrated on trying to re-establish the bond she had lost. This proved just as difficult, for he seemed to regard her attempts at friendship with distrust, although he was no longer so rude. After four days he left, and Talsy wondered about the Mujar in the lake, wishing Chanter would return to be there when he emerged. Every day, she spent several hours on the shore, searching for some sign of his impending emergence.
Law dreamt that he was back in the sea, lying on a soft, muddy bottom, surrounded by the pure glitter of untainted Shissar. In his dream, his limbs were no longer stiff with the creeping sickness of corrupted Dolana. The pleasant dream never changed, and he pondered his previous dreams, of jolting sensations and the touch of tainted Powers, but those had stopped.
The Dolana beneath him gleamed pure silver, and little fish nibbled at his skin. The golden light had retreated to the back of his mind, where it crouched like a slumbering beast, ready to pounce at the first touch of corruption. As time passed, he wondered about the never ending dream, strange in its unchanging monotony. Since Mujar did not get bored, he found the relaxing environment quite comfortable, not wishing to wake into the hellish world of torture he had left behind.
One day a fish brushed against him, startling him into an involuntary movement, and he realised that he could control this dream. Fascinated, he moved some more, discovering the joy of swimming in the clear water, and explored his environment. He found that the water was fresh and the lake quite small, filled with fish. Changing his shape to that of a sleek otter, he chased the fish playfully, revelling in his freedom.
Law grew bolder, and surfaced to explore the shore, which was as untainted as the water and mud at the bottom of the lake. A nearby forest was rich with the gentle power of a young Kuran, whose presence reassured him. He spent more time on the shore, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the peaceful birdsong. He wondered if this idyll was a gift from Antanar, to keep his children from suffering. Sometimes Lowmen came to the lake with children who shrieked as they played in the water, while the adults talked, or caught a few fish for their supper. If any glimpsed the blind otter, none bothered him, and he became less afraid of them. Once again, Law was tempted by thoughts of cooked food and a soft bed, and, since this was a dream, he wondered if any harm could come to him.
Talsy discovered the blind otter one day as she wandered along the shore, gazing hopefully into the water. Its eyes were sealed shut, and she wondered how it survived. Moved by its plight, she brought food for it and left it on the shore, for the shy beast slid into the water when she approached. Every day she brought food, and sometimes hid in the bushes to watch it eat. Two weeks had passed since the young Mujar had been flung into the lake, but Chanter could not tell her when he would emerge, only saying that he would when he was ready.
Law ate the fish the woman left, curious about her reasons. He knew she was a woman from her size and scent, and that, too, allayed his fears. A woman had never harmed him, and he still remembered Letta’s soft hands and good cooking. The strange woman seemed well-intentioned, and he let her watch him eat to show his appreciation, although raw fish was not really to his taste. Each day, he allowed her to come a little closer, until he let her put the food before him and ate it while she sat nearby.
One day she touched him, making him start, but she only stroked him and spoke soothing words. Law decided that if the people in his dream were kind and gentle there was little point in hiding his identity from them. Still, he was wary of being caught again, knowing now the danger of spears. The fact that the girl did not have one reassured him, but, having sensed the hatred of the men who had attacked him in his forest, he did not allow that to lull him too much.
Talsy strolled down to the lake for her daily meeting with the tame otter, well pleased that the creature had become used to her and no longer scuttled away at her approach. She found the sleek animal basking on a log and sat down close by, placing her offering of fish next to it. The otter raised its head, turning towards her. She wondered if she should catch it and try to find out why it was blind, maybe heal it if she could. Noticing that the otter seemed uninterested in the food, she shoved it closer.
The air swelled, filling with the misty wetness of Shissar, the sound of rushing water and soft hiss of rain. Talsy recoiled with a gasp, startled by the unexpected manifestation. When she looked again, a man lay on the log, propped up on one arm. The face he turned towards her was that of a young god, breath-taking in its beauty and youthful perfection. His eyes were closed, and his shorn hair spiked with wetness that gleamed on his flawless golden skin. She stared at him, struck by his air of wildness that was so much stronger than Chanter’s, poised on the brink of flight at the slightest hint of danger. Sensing his extreme wariness, she remained where she was and held out a hand, palm up.
“No harm.”
He appeared to study her, then swung his legs off the log and sat up, holding out a hand, palm up, in the ritual gesture.
“No harm.” He had a soft, lilting voice, a fraction higher in timbre than Chanter’s but with the same musical tone.
Unable to think of anything intelligent to say, she stammered, “I-I’m Talsy.”
The youth inclined his head in acknowledgement, and she found herself inexplicably nervous. He perched on the log like a cat coiled to spring, his lean muscles ridged with tension. Apparently he was not overly reassured by her offer of safety, and she wondered who had betrayed him in the past. As the silence lengthened and the Mujar’s nostrils flared with unease, she searched her numb brain for something to say.
“You - are you better?”
“Better?” He frowned, tilting his head. “Than what?”
“I mean... are you well?”
“Yes. Are you a dream?”
“No.” Nervous laughter bubbled in her at his strange question. “No, I’m not. I - we rescued you, from the city. Do you remember?”
“I remember much pain.”
“Well, you’re safe now; no one will harm you here.”
He turned his head slowly, as if looking around. “Then this must be the sacred land of Marrana, the place of the dead. How is it that she came for me so soon?”
“She didn’t! You’re not dead, how could you be? Mujar can’t die for a hundred years.” Aware of the foolishness of her words, she cursed her inadequacy to deal with this lost young Mujar, who looked confused. Realising that she was not equipped to handle the situation, she whispered, “Chanter, help me.”
The youngster’s head jerked around, and he rose a little unsteadily to his feet. “That’s a Mujar name.”
“Yes. He’s my friend, don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid. Why should I be?” His tension belied his words, yet he did not seem frightened, just nervous.
A rustle of wings made her turn as a raven landed behind her, transforming in a rush of wind. Chanter frowned at the young Mujar for a moment, then looked at Talsy.
“You need help?”
“Yes, well...” She shook her head, baffled by the way he ignored the youngster. “He needs help. He’s confused; he thinks he’s dead.”
Chanter glanced at the youth, who stood motionless on the lake shore. “He’s been through a trauma. He’s still recovering.”
“Well help him! Tell him where he is. I don’t know how to.”
Chanter shook his head with a smile. “Lowman emotions. He’s quite capable of figuring that out for himself, once he takes a look around, and you could explain it to him as easily as I, but I’ll tell him if you wish.”
Talsy held her breath, not knowing what to expect from this first meeting of two Mujar that she had ever witnessed. Chanter turned to the youngster, who bowed his head.
“Father.”
“Be assured, you’re safe here. This is reality. You have been saved and brought to a good place, where I have kept the land in order.” Chanter spoke in a brisk, offhand manner.
The youth relaxed visibly. “Then I owe a great gratitude to the ones who did this thing.”
“To her.” Chanter indicated Talsy, who flushed.
The youngster bowed his head in her direction, and made a slow graceful gesture with one hand. “Gratitude.”
Talsy shot Chanter a nervous glance, and he raised a brow, smiling encouragement. The young Mujar waited for the expected reply, and she completed the formal ritual with the traditional answer.
“Wish.”
“Wish.”
“Questions.”
The youth smiled, a flash of white teeth that lighted his countenance. “A small wish for such a great favour. Ask.”
“What’s your name?”
Chanter scowled at her, but she ignored him. She knew that Mujar considered asking for a name rude, but she wanted to know. Chanter’s brows rose when the youngster answered, “Law.”
“That’s not your true name,” Chanter said. “You’ve granted a wish, you must answer the questions.”
“It’s the only name I have,” Law replied, shrugging.
“It’s not a Mujar name.”
Talsy interrupted the brewing argument. “Law, how old are you?”
“By the turning of the world, seven Trueman years.”
“Why don’t you open your eyes?”
Law hesitated. “I cannot.”
“Are you truly blind?”
“By the eyes, yes.”
Talsy glanced enquiringly at Chanter, confused by this odd reply, which hinted at other means of sight.
He explained, “He can see the visible Powers, so he’s not completely blind. Of course, if he opened his eyes, he could see a lot more. No Mujar is born imperfect, nor can we be blinded.”
“Oh.” Her gaze darted between the two, who stood several feet apart and showed no inclination to close the gap. Her curiosity about Law’s blindness was overtaken by a far greater one, and her eyes settled on Chanter. “You promised to show me why Mujar don’t touch.”
He looked baffled by her sudden change of topic; perhaps curious himself about Law’s refusal to open his eyes, but nodded and turned to the youth. “Law, Talsy wishes to see a demonstration of tallana.”
Law tilted his head and smiled. “Very well.”
Chanter stepped forward. Instantly a wall of brilliant blue light sprang up between the two Mujar, a scintillating barrier that edged a radiant nimbus around each of them. The rainbow corona clothed them from head to foot, and blue sparkles fenced the area where the two auras touched. Talsy reached for the faint nimbus of pearly light that surrounded Chanter, her hand passing through it without sensation. Chanter stepped back, and the halos vanished.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Tallana. All Mujar are surrounded by it, but Lowmen can’t see it unless the proximity of another Mujar activates it.”
“But you can see it?”
“Yes.”
“But what is it? Does it burn you? Can’t you ever touch each other?”
Law smiled again. “She has many questions, Father.”
“All her questions will be answered,” Chanter said. “She is the First Chosen, blessed of the gods.”
Law bowed to Talsy, his grin vanishing. “Forgive me, chosen one, I did not see the mark.”
“Open your eyes,” Chanter suggested.
“I wish I could.”
“Chanter!” Talsy hopped with impatience. “Tell me about tallana!”
He scowled at Law, apparently annoyed with the youth. “It surrounds every living thing, but to a much lesser extent. I don’t know what Lowmen call it, if anything, for they never see it, except when two Mujar come too close to each other, but this only happens by accident. It burns if we get very close, almost touching, but we can touch.”
“How? Show me.”
Chanter turned to Law and made a simple gesture. The young Mujar mirrored the cryptic signal, and Chanter closed the gap between them, lifted his hands and held them out, crossed at the wrists. Law mirrored his movements, and the two clasped hands, a faint flash of blue fire igniting as their palms touched briefly.
Chanter stepped back. “Mujar can soften their tallana at will, allowing another to touch them, but mostly we like to keep our distance.”
“Do you soften your tallana every time Truemen come close to you?”
“No, Truemen don’t feel it at all, otherwise we would use it to defend ourselves. Only another Mujar can see and feel tallana.”
Talsy gazed at the two, so alike, yet so different. Law was slightly smaller than Chanter, his skin a fraction paler, his features more feminine. Remembering the reason for asking about tallana, Talsy asked, “So why can’t you soften your tallana around Travain?”
“I can, but he doesn’t seem able to. He certainly never has. When he was a child he could not control it. Even a pure Mujar doesn’t learn to control his tallana until he has his mark. When I touched Travain after he got his mark, his tallana burnt me, causing the red marks you saw on my arms. It’s unpleasant to be burnt like that.”
“You should have told him,” she said.
“He should know.”
“I don’t think he does, otherwise he wouldn’t blame you for staying away from him. Unlike a true Mujar, he has to learn about these things. You can’t just expect him to know them.”
“Perhaps not,” Chanter agreed, inclining his head. “But just as you don’t know everything about Mujar, I was not aware that he needed guidance.”
“Nor would you have given it to him without a Wish,” she pointed out.
“His Mujar heritage does entitle him to some small gifts from his elders, had he asked.”
“That’s not what you said before. You said he had no Wish.”
“That’s true; he didn’t have a Wish to grant him large favours, which you claimed he needed.” Chanter made an irritated gesture, glancing at Law, who stood blandly listening, his face expressionless. “It’s difficult to decide what he’s entitled to, for a Trueman must earn a Wish, yet a Mujar has only to ask, though it’s seldom they have questions. What is he, Mujar or Trueman?”
“Both.” Talsy frowned, seeing Chanter’s dilemma. “I don’t know. Perhaps he’s Trueman with Mujar powers.”
“Yet he has tallana, which is Mujar, and he can kill, which is forbidden to us. Face it, he’s neither, and therefore the way I should treat him is a mystery to all of us.”
Law touched Chanter’s arm and spoke in a language that resembled deep-toned bird calls and melodic lilting poetry. Talsy gaped at the youngster, and Chanter snapped, “Speak Trueman.”
“You have your own language!” she exclaimed.
“Of course we do.” Chanter looked distinctly put out, scowling at Law. “Do you think we’re born speaking Lowman?”
“What did he say?”
“He asked who Travain is. He was rude to speak so in front of you.”
“Oh.” She gazed at Law with renewed fascination, stunned by the depth of her ignorance. “I’d like to learn to speak Mujar.”
“You can’t. Your vocal abilities will not allow it.” Chanter continued to scowl at Law, who bowed his head under his elder’s disapproval. “This one is too young to be with people, he has not yet remembered the ways of our race.”
Law made a graceful gesture. “Guidance, Father.”
Chanter nodded. “You need it.”
“Why does he keep calling you ‘Father’, is he your son?” Talsy asked.
“No, it’s a term of respect. I’m more than twenty years older than him, so he calls me Father. If I was more than forty years older, he would call me Great Father, and more than sixty years, he would call me Wise Father. A Mujar eighty years his senior would be Venerable Father. All elders are accorded this, since we have no way of knowing our own offspring.”
Silence fell as Talsy ran out of questions, her mind whirling as she tried to assimilate this glut of new information, and Law shuffled his feet in the hush. Chanter folded his arms and waited, watching the expressions chase each other over her face. She was sure he knew the reason for her silence, while Law, unable to see her fascination, clearly found the quiet confusing. Realising that the youngster must be hungry, she shook herself from her musings and offered him comforts. The youth accepted, and she led him towards the castle, taking Chanter’s hand to ensure he could not slip away. Law walked slowly, his head bent, and she was forced to wait for him, her initial eager march becoming a leisurely stroll.
When they arrived, Sheera was only too delighted to dish up a bowl of hot stew for Law, thrusting one under Chanter’s nose as well. Law consumed two plates of food at high speed, then slowed on the third, while Chanter made do with one. While they ate, Kieran entered and stopped in surprise. Law raised his head and turned it in the Prince’s direction, then returned to his food. Talsy drew Kieran aside and explained the events at the lake, and Chanter disappeared while she was distracted, to her annoyance.
Law stayed in the castle for a week, wandered its halls and ran his hands over walls and furniture, curtains and people. Many of the chosen who came to the castle were startled and uncomfortable when they encountered the young Mujar and had to submit to his fingers’ scrutiny, although none complained. Talsy was not immune to his curiosity, and underwent the feather-light touch of his mapping, as did Kieran. Law discovered the Starsword hanging on the wall in Kieran’s room and took it down to finger with delighted murmurs, much to the Prince’s surprise. The youngster reverently returned the sword to its place when he was finished, and accorded Kieran a bow. When a cook burnt herself with hot oil in the kitchen, Law granted Talsy’s Wish and healed it, but she had the feeling that he kept tally of how many questions she had asked and how many favours he had granted, and she wondered how large her credit was.
Once he finished his exploration of the castle, he spent his days sunbathing in the garden, apparently content, as all Mujar were, to simply do nothing at all. When Talsy questioned him further about his blindness, his constant assertion that he could not open his eyes proved a dead end street that she was unable to steer around. Life in the valley returned to its peaceful state, the flurry of excitement at Law’s arrival giving way to normality again. No one, least of all Talsy, had any inkling of the tremendous upheavals soon to come.
Events unfolded at an alarming rate on the day Travain came to visit. Law perched in a young peach tree, humming a tuneless dirge, while Talsy sewed a new blouse on the stone bench beneath it. Law’s silence warned Talsy that something was amiss, and the beat of heavy wings brought a daltar eagle sailing into the garden. He stopped his flight with a backstroke and dropped onto the grass.
A rush of wind transformed Travain, and he approached his mother. Talsy greeted him, and he flopped down on the grass beside her bench, plucked a blade and chewed it. As soon as she was able, she broached the subject of tallana, explaining what Chanter had told her of the mysterious force that surrounded Mujar. While she talked, she became aware of the pregnant silence emanating from the peach tree, where Law had not resumed his irritating song. Travain listened to her explanation, frowning.
“So how can I control something I don’t even know I have?” he asked.
“Perhaps Chanter can teach you.”
“But I can’t see it like he can, and he can’t change that.”
“No, perhaps not,” she admitted, “but there must be a way to learn how to control it anyway. After all, you can’t see Ashmar. It’s an invisible Power, but you can control it.”
“Yes, but I can sense Ashmar; I don’t sense this tallana.”
“Still...” Talsy broke off at a soft thud beside her, looking around. Law stood on the other side of the bench, beneath the peach tree he had just descended. His fine black brows almost met over his closed eyes, and he faced Travain with a distinctly hostile air.
Travain glared at the young Mujar. “This must be the one you rescued.”
“Yes, this is Law.”
“Why doesn’t he open his eyes?”
She shrugged. “No one knows. Law, this is my son, Travain.”
Law stepped closer and pointed at Travain. “You are wrong.”
“Wrong?” Talsy asked, puzzled. “Wrong about what?”
“Wrong,” Law repeated. “Against the laws. A creature of the chaos; a man who is not Lowman; a Mujar who is not Mujar.”
Talsy slumped. “Oh, that kind of wrong.”
Travain jumped up. “I don’t like being called names!”
“Don’t be angry, Travain, he’s young and inexperienced, and he didn’t call you a bad name.” Talsy watched her son with deep concern. Travain looked furious, and she feared a violent retaliation.
“You are a forbidden breed,” Law continued, apparently oblivious to the anger in Travain’s voice and the hostility that bristled the air. “You are the worst of the abominations, the creatures that should not be.”
“Law!” Talsy frowned. “Stop it!”
The golden fire filled Law’s mind, whipped into a wild tempest by the proximity of this, the most forbidden crossbreed of all, a creature of the corruption whose very existence insulted the world. The whizzing words hammered at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, raising his hands to cover them. One line of burning writing settled in his mind, then whizzed away, then settled again, allowing him an instant to read it.
“Abomination!” Law said, and Travain leapt at him, his fists raised.
Talsy cried, “Travain! Drummer, no!”
Travain halted with a snarl, his eyes glittering with rage and humiliation. Law’s pained expression, and the way he covered his eyes, pressing against them as if to hold something inside his head, alarmed Talsy. His mouth worked, and a string of harsh, guttural words fell from his lips like stones, making her skin prickle and Travain howl in pain. She grabbed her son, who rubbed his skin as if a million biting ants attacked him, his face twisted with confusion and anguish.
“Law, stop!” Talsy yelled. “You do harm!”
The young Mujar stepped back and turned away. “No harm,” he muttered in a strained voice.
“What the hell is going on here?” Talsy cried, holding her moaning, frantic son as he scrubbed his arms. “Chanter! Kieran!”
Law walked away and sat under a tree, his back to them.
Travain had calmed a little, his arms and neck red from rubbing, by the time Chanter arrived on a whisper of black wings and transformed in a rush of wind. He glanced at Law, who sat with his head bowed, then took in Travain’s state with a scowl.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Law. He’s done something to Travain, but I don’t know what. He spoke a weird language.”
“Mujar?”
“No, it was ugly.”
Chanter eyed the young Mujar. “God words?”
“Could be. Yes, I think so.”
Travain glared at Law, still rubbing his reddened skin. “What’s his problem?”
Chanter shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well find out!” he said, and his father’s eyes frosted.
Talsy warned, “Travain, remember what I told you.”
The crossbreed gritted his teeth and swallowed his rage with an effort, his breathing slowing as he brought himself under control. He drew himself up, bowed his head towards his father and made a clumsy Mujar gesture.
“Guidance, Father.”
Chanter’s brows rose, but he nodded. “Granted. Come and sit, we will talk.” He went over to join Law, who sat cross-legged under the peach tree.
Travain hesitated, wary of Law, but Chanter seated himself diagonally a few feet from the young Mujar and pointed to a spot an equal distance from both, completing the triangle. Travain allowed Talsy to urge him to his appointed place, and she settled beside him on the grass. Law cringed at Travain’s proximity, clasping his eyes.
“Law,” Chanter said, “why did you use god words against Travain?”
“Abomination,” the young Mujar muttered. “He is wrong.”
“We know this.”
“He belongs in the chaos, not here.”
Chanter shook his head. “This is his home. He was born here; he is the son of the First Chosen.”
“And yours.”
“Yes.” Chanter bowed his head. “My shame.”
Talsy gasped, opening her mouth to protest, but Travain gripped her arm, stopping her. His eyes were fixed upon his father, intent on his words.
Law leant forward. “He should leave.” Removing one hand from his eyes, he wrote glowing blue words on the grass in angular writing that looked oddly familiar.
Chanter reached out, and a flash of tallana leapt between them, making Law recoil. Chanter wiped away the words with a sweep of his hand. “No. You will not drive him out.”
Kieran arrived and joined Talsy on the grass, and she whispered a brief explanation to him before Law spoke again.
“He causes me pain.”
“Why?” Chanter asked. “And how do you know god words, even write them?”
“I have them... in my head.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Law rocked miserably. “They’ve always been there, tormenting me, and I learnt to understand them.”
Chanter glanced at Talsy. “The staff was broken about seven and a half years ago. Law would have been in his flower, an embryo.” He turned back to the youth. “Law, what do the words look like?”
“They swirl, when he’s near,” Law groaned. “Always when there’s corruption near, they flash and whiz around, making me dizzy. If I open my eyes, they’ll escape.”
Talsy cried, “So that’s why he’s blind!”
“Law,” Chanter said, “what do they look like?”
“Gold... golden fire.”
The world spun around Talsy, and she gripped Travain’s shoulder as a surge of pure joy brought hot tears to her eyes and a huge lump swelled in her chest. “He’s got the laws! We’re saved! The world is saved!”
Even as her happiness filled her to the brim, she became aware of the strained silence that had fallen over the group. Kieran looked stunned and joyful, his relief tinged with disbelief. Travain appeared puzzled, but willing to go along with his mother’s happiness, but Chanter stared at his son with deep sorrow.
Talsy glanced at Travain, then back at him. “What’s wrong?”
Chanter’s face became deadpan. “Nothing we can do anything about. You’re right, he has the laws. He has carried them to us, like a destiny. That’s where his name comes from, that’s why he’s blind. Justice is always blind.”
“So we can restore the staff!”
“Yes. Not we, Law. The gods have answered you. Your faith has been rewarded. They saw to it that the laws were preserved within the mind of a young Mujar and brought to us. You were right, the wind told me of his plight because the gods willed it, and saving him was your final test.”
“So what do we do now?”
Chanter studied Law. “I’m not sure. If the fire will be released when he opens his eyes, then we can only hope that if he does this in the proximity of the Staff of Law, the laws will return to their former home.”
“And if they don’t? What if we do it wrong?”
“What else can we do? Do you have another suggestion?”
“No.”
Chanter rose to his feet, his manner solemn. “Law, come with me.”
The youngster obeyed, sidling away from Travain. Once far enough away from the crossbreed, he relaxed and lowered his hands. Talsy and Kieran followed, Travain trailed behind.
Reaching the room that housed the Staff of Law, Chanter pushed open the door and preceded Law into its dusty confines.
The young Mujar hesitated upon the threshold, his attention riveted by the ancient, six-foot staff that lay on its bed of dusty velvet. He approached it, tilting his head to assimilate the Powers that drew a strange picture in his mind. Talsy exclaimed in disgust at the state of the room, opening the curtains to let in a flood of light.
Law stood at the staff’s foot and studied the image in his mind. The long, glowing rod of silver Dolana was so pure it was almost white to his sensitive perception. Within the whiteness he read the lines of tiny writing etched in gleaming brilliance. The same writing that lived within his mind in the streams of golden fire. Reverently, he fell to his knees and touched the cold, gnarled surface of the ancient bedrock that had been drawn from the world when it was young and fashioned into this instrument of the gods. He caressed its carved lines, fingering the tiny letters while he whispered the words that echoed in his mind. The fire within his brain seemed to cower in a far corner, acquiescent and dim.
Chanter sank down on one knee beside him, a brief flash of tallana bursting between them before they softened their auras. He placed a hand on the youngster’s shoulder.
“Surely you’ve been in this room before? I’ve heard that you’ve explored the castle very thoroughly.”
“Not this room.”
“Why not?”
Law shivered. “I don’t know.”
“I see. But you’re not afraid of it now.”
“No.”
“Law, open your eyes.”
Law frowned. “I’ve never...”
“Now is the time. The laws you carry in your head belong here, in the Staff of Law. Release them, and the world will be saved.”
“The Staff of Law,” Law murmured. “It was lost. They all were. I tried to see their images, but nothing came to my call, only a howling emptiness that wept with sorrow.”
“Yes, the Staff of Law was broken, the laws flung to the four winds, and the Staffs of Life and Death joined. I thought the laws were lost forever, and the world doomed to destruction, but you can put them back.”
“All the horrors...” Law muttered.
“Because there are no laws.”
“And if I put them back...”
“Order will be restored,” Chanter finished for him.
“And tens of thousands will die.”
“You do the will of the gods. Their deaths will not be your doing. Your reward will be your sight.”
Law considered. “I can’t do this alone, Father. I’ve never been able to open my eyes.”
Chanter nodded and transferred his hand to Law’s forehead. “I will help you.”
Law gripped the foot of the staff, and Chanter closed his eyes. A faint frown tugged at his brows, then he opened them, and at the same instant, Law’s eyes flew open. A moment passed, and then Talsy gasped as golden fire flowed from Law’s eyes in a brilliant stream, running up the staff in a swirling mantle of flame. It reached the topmost line of writing and sank into it, filling the carved letters with bright fire. The second line filled, then the third, faster and faster as the thousands of lines flooded with gold. By the time the lines halfway down the staff had filled, the topmost line had become dark once more. She bit her lip, wondering if this was going to work, or whether it was yet another false hope that would come to nothing. The fire continued to pour from Law’s eyes, and he gasped as he clung to the staff, his face a rictus of pain. Chanter stared blankly into space, his hand pressed to Law’s brow.
The last glimmer of golden light fled Law’s eyes, and he jerked back as if released from an invisible force, closed his eyes and grimaced. Chanter helped him to sit back on his haunches, and he pawed at his face as if burnt. The golden fire sheathed the lower portion of the staff, flowed into the lines of writing and vanished.
Law forced himself to relax. His mind was numb, empty without the golden words that had dwelt there all his life. It seemed a dark and hollow place, crying out for light. He opened his eyes a slit, and light flooded in, bringing startling images the likes of which he had never imagined. Grey walls, red curtains, and the golden face of his father Mujar. He looked around at the dusty silver, flickering candles, and smiling faces of a flaxen-haired woman and a dark-eyed man.
“All my life I have lived in darkness, guided by the Powers alone,” he murmured. “To see the world is a wondrous gift.”
“Indeed,” Chanter agreed, “and now it’s yours.”
Law grinned, delighted with his newfound sense. He gazed around the room and out at the brown clouds that scudded across the sky. Chanter rose to his feet as Law examined his hands, holding them up to the light, and then went to the window to gaze across the valley. When he turned from the view of sweeping green fields and snow-capped peaks a minute later, Talsy studied the staff with what he surmised was a worried expression.
She gestured at it. “It’s gone.”
“No, it’s still there,” Chanter said, “but it will take some time for the staff to regain its power. What Law carried in his head was just a tiny fraction of the staff’s original fire, enough to contain the laws, nothing more. When the staff was broken, its fire dispersed across the world, and we have put back a seed that will grow in time to its former strength. Patience is all we need now.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. A week, a month, does it matter?”
She smiled. “No. We did it!”
“Yes, we did. You and Law, actually. You restored the staff, he carried the laws, you rescued him and brought him here, and he put them back. The rest of us only helped.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Perhaps not, nor without Kieran or the Aggapae. Everyone did their part. But it was your faith that put it all into motion.”
“How will we know when the staff has regained its power?” she asked.
“When it rises up.”