Law revelled in his new sense, discovered the joy of flight and roamed the valley on long wings. He became popular with the people of the valley, whom his joyful ebullience and youthful zest for life entranced. His joy bubbled from him like a font of delight, infecting those around him with laughter and happiness. He discovered a love to dance, and often indulged in long leaping frolics across the meadows, at times joined by the horses. His unusual energy made Chanter smile and shake his head at his antics. At times the older Mujar would become a little impatient with him when he bounced into the castle as if he had springs on his feet, but no one could deny him his happiness, nor disregard his extraordinary grace.
Chanter taught Travain how to control his tallana, showed him a little of the warmth and affection he craved, and filled many of the gaps in his knowledge. Travain could understand Mujar speech, but not speak it, could control his tallana, but not sense it, change his shape, but only to what he had seen. He seemed to have half of everything bestowed upon Mujar, and, under Chanter’s tutelage, learnt to control two Powers at once, but no more. His sullenness diminished, and he grew into be a more likable person, showed respect and consideration for others and helped freely when asked.
For a month, the Staff of Law remained dull on its velvet bed. Talsy checked on it every day, willing it to return to its former power. After a month and a day, the staff began to rise. At first it was just a few inches, but each day it rose a little more. When the head of the staff was halfway between its bed and the roof, Travain brought a blushing Aggapae girl to the castle and announced his intention to marry her. Talsy warned them to wait until after the restoration of the laws. No change had occurred in the chaos outside, so they knew that the staff had not started to order the world again yet. Travain reluctantly agreed, since that day was not far off now.
Law told them that his true name was Dancer, revealed to him now that the golden fire was gone from his head. Chanter seemed well pleased, mysteriously referring to ‘the three’. When Talsy questioned him, he explained that there were only three Mujar names, Dancer, Drummer and Chanter. All Mujar bore these names, and, at the end of the testing, they would fulfil their purpose and destroy the Hashon Jahar.
Two months after the restoration of its fire, the Staff of Law swung upright, its foot leaving the ground. They gathered around to admire it, the lines of writing now filled with golden fire.
“Will the laws be restored to the world now?” Talsy asked, gazing up at it.
Chanter addressed the staff for the first time. “Staff of Law, when will order be restored?”
Fiery words scored the air with hissing power in the presence of two Mujar. “Only when the one who speaks the law wields me.”
Talsy translated the staff’s writing for the benefit of those who did not understand it, then frowned at Chanter. “What does it mean?”
“The only one who can speak the laws is Dancer. He must wield the staff.”
The young Mujar shook his head. “But I don’t know what to do.”
“The staff will teach you,” Chanter stated.
Dancer sighed. “I thought I had done my part.”
“Just one more task.”
“And make it quick,” Travain urged. “Then Danya and I can get hitched.”
“Hitched?” Dancer enquired.
“Married.”
“Ah, that strange Lowman tradition.”
“Well at least I don’t have to go and find some big smelly flower.” Travain chuckled.
Dancer and Chanter looked at each other, and Chanter smiled. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“You don’t know what I’ve got,” Travain said. “Trueman love is something Mujar should have too. It’s you guys who’re missing out.”
Chanter glanced at Talsy. “Yes, perhaps you’re right. We have our own kind of love, strange to you, but we can only guess at Trueman emotions.”
She turned away, gazing up at the staff. The light-hearted banter died, and Travain looked chagrined by his thoughtlessness. “So when do we do it?”
“Whenever Dancer is ready.”
“What do I have to do?” Dancer asked.
“Staff?” Chanter redirected the question.
The golden fire wrote, “Each law must be spoken in its god words, then again in a language of your choice. As each law is intoned, so must my foot touch the ground. The laws must be spoken in their rightful order, beginning with the first law, and ending with the last. Once started, the recitation of the laws must not end until the final one is spoken. As each law is spoken, that order will be restored.”
“What about the laws within your broken areas?”
“These exist like all the others. The breaking of the stone that binds them does not annul their power.”
“But how will Dancer read them?” Chanter enquired.
“I will write each law as it must be spoken.”
“And what form must you be in?”
“My present form is the one of power.”
Chanter turned to Dancer. “You should rest and indulge before you start, the reading of so many laws will take several days. The chosen will want to bear witness.” He glanced at Talsy, who nodded, and went on, “I shall prepare a room for the ceremony and take the staff to it. When you’re ready, we’ll begin.”
The young Mujar glanced at the staff, his expression a mixture of awe and fear. “It seems odd that I should be the one. After all, you’re the chanter, Father.”
“I cannot speak the laws, only you understand them. This is the instruction of the staff.”
“I know, but I’m young,” Dancer said.
“I’ll be there beside you, never fear.”
Dancer nodded, then left, presumably to find a quiet spot for his preparations. Talsy took Chanter’s arm when he would have followed, drawing him aside.
“Walk with me in the garden, I have questions for you.”
Chanter gave an exaggerated groan of despair. “Not more!”
Talsy led him to the secluded garden, a warm, sunny place between the castle’s tall grey walls and the mountain’s green slopes. A cool breeze circulated the air, one of the many wind spirits who dwelt within the valley and stirred its warm ethers. She settled on the bench in the dappled shade of the young peach tree, patting the stone beside her. Chanter sat with a sigh, closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun.
“Why is Law nervous about wielding the staff?” she asked.
“Because he’s young, he lacks confidence. The staff has much power of its own, but when it’s wielded, it will draw from him too.”
“Will that tire him?”
“No, not tire, but maybe weaken. He must open himself to the two Powers of the staff, Dolana and Crayash. The fire is no problem, but Earthpower, as you know, weakens Mujar if they use it for too long or in too great quantities. He’ll have to be careful; the staff’s Dolana is very strong.”
She gazed at him. “Why did Law call you ‘the chanter’?”
“Because that’s what I am. Law is the dancer, Travain the drummer, and I am the chanter. I have told you that at the end there will be three, and that all Mujar bear these names. They are not only names, but also define our purpose at the end of the testing. Travain is the drum bearer, who will mark the time and cadence, Law will perform the sacred steps of the dance of destruction. I will intone the god words that end the testing and destroy the Hashon Jahar.” He opened his eyes a slit and winked at her. “You’ll be there to see it.”
“Then what will happen?”
He shrugged, closing his eyes again. “Then the chosen will be free to return to their homes and take up their lives, obeying the laws of this land, and not their own. This is our gods’ way of adopting you. After the testing, all those who remain will live in harmony with this world.”
“And their offspring?”
“Them too.”
Talsy mulled this over, then plucked up the courage to ask the question that was really bothering her. “What will happen to Travain?”
Chanter opened his eyes to gaze across the garden. “Travain will live.”
“How can he? He’s a crossbreed.”
“He’s half Mujar. The staff does not have the power to kill him.”
“But Law called him an abomination, the worst crossbreed of all.”
“He’ll be changed,” Chanter admitted reluctantly.
“How?”
“I don’t know. He’ll survive, but he won’t be the same, that’s all I know.”
“The staff would know, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “Ask it if you wish, but knowing his fate won’t change it. Do you really need to know before it happens? And if so, why? Would you tell him?”
“No.” She contemplated the castle’s tall turrets with their long streamers of winding, wind-whipped blue silk. “But his birth wasn’t a mistake, I know that now. You three are the only Mujar left, and you’re needed for the end of the testing. If Travain hadn’t been born, there would be no drummer.”
“Yes.” He took her hand, caressing it. “You made no mistakes. You were guided by the gods. I should have granted your Wish and given you a child willingly, instead I clung to the old laws, not realising that things had changed, and all this was happening for a reason. But I did fear for your life, my little clan. You could have lost it when he was born.”
“But I didn’t. Law is your son too, I’m sure of it. If you remember the time you went to the flower, he was born eighteen months later.”
“Too soon.” Chanter shook his head. “Mujar remain in the pod for two years.”
“I think he was born early, because of the chaos. He’s small and pale, and even his eyes are a lighter shade than yours. But he looks so like you, a younger version.”
Chanter smiled. “All Mujar look alike.”
“I know, but he could be, couldn’t he?”
“He could.”
“And Travain.” She grimaced. “So very different. He looks like my father, and maybe the mother I never knew. Just think, you and your two sons are the only Mujar left. It’s you who saved Truemen.”
“I think not, my little clan. Had you not shot me with your gold-tipped arrow, your race would have perished.”
Talsy sat back and gazed up at the green leaves silhouetted against the dim brown sky, fleeting shafts of sunlight probing down to brighten the valley. Chanter stretched out his legs, holding her hand in a gentle clasp. To anyone who did not know better, she thought, they must look like a couple of lovers. How she still wished they were. In the six years they had spent in the valley, they had sat often like this in the garden, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence.
When Chanter was away, Kieran would sit with her, but he had never held her hand. A pang of remorse went through her at the thought of Kieran’s patient love that she had rejected for so long, yet it was still there in his eyes whenever he looked at her. The one thing that prevented Chanter from being her lover would be gone in a couple of days, however. As soon as the laws were back, there would be no risk of her conceiving by him again. That realisation brought a surge of hope, and she turned to him. The Mujar seemed almost asleep, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open.
She shook him. “Chanter!”
“Mmm.”
“Wake up.”
“More questions?”
She smiled. “One more.”
“Okay.”
“Do you remember telling me that if it wasn’t for the chaos, you would have lain with me?”
“Mmm, reluctantly,” he murmured.
“The chaos will be over in a few days.”
“So?”
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “Will you come to my room tonight?”
Chanter sighed, opening his eyes to study her. “Is this what you really want?”
“Ever since the first night we spent together in that tent.”
“What about Kieran?”
“He’ll understand.”
He frowned at the garden. “I want to make you happy, and if this is the way to do it, then I will, but on one condition.”
“Anything.”
“When the testing is over, and you begin your new life, you will take Kieran for your husband.”
Talsy found the idea quite appealing, and wondered if she could be in love with both of them simultaneously. “If he asks, and if you’ll still be my lover.”
“I’ll see to it that he does, but I doubt he’ll be happy with that arrangement. It would be better if I stopped being your lover at that time.”
“No. I won’t agree to that.”
“I think you should, for your own good,” he said. “Once the laws are restored, the chosen will no longer require my protection, and I’ll be away quite a lot.”
“I know. I won’t try to stop you leaving, but nor do I want to lose you completely.”
“You won’t, but I think Kieran will object. Truemen, after all, have an emotion called jealousy, don’t they?”
She smiled. “You’re getting to know us quite well, but many women have a husband and a lover, it’s not that unusual.”
“But usually the husband doesn’t know about the lover.”
“Then we won’t tell Kieran.”
He regarded her doubtfully. “A lie?”
“An omission. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
“It doesn’t seem right. I’ll tell him of your condition, and let him decide.”
“Then you will?”
“If that’s your Wish.”
“It is.”
Chanter smiled, his expression tinged with sadness, and she knew he was not happy with the arrangement. His reluctance did not alter her determination, since it sprang only from his consideration of Kieran’s feelings, and not any dislike of his own. For more than eight years, she had yearned to have him as her lover, long before she had met Kieran, and although she loved the Prince too, her feelings for him did not diminish her passion for Chanter. She loved them both, but differently; Kieran for his gentleness and understanding, his ability to sympathise and enter into delightfully entertaining arguments in a way she completely understood. He was so utterly Trueman, so like her in many ways. She even won friendly disputes with him, and when she did he admitted defeat gracefully.
Chanter, however, was enigmatic and alluring, his physical beauty and perfection offset by his strange mentality, at times frustrating when she failed to understand him. She found it almost impossible to argue with him. He seldom gave her the satisfaction, falling silent when she tried. Yet his alien attraction made her burn for his touch, and the memory of the day Travain had been conceived had not faded with time. The wonder of lying with a gentle demigod who could command the world held a powerful seduction that no Trueman could hope to match. She remembered vividly the day in the glade, when the Powers had swirled around them in a magical vortex that had left her gasping at the intensity of the passions he had evoked. Then she had tricked him, now she wanted to know what it was like to have him lie with her willingly.
That night she waited for him in her room, breathless with anticipation. He came to her on the dusky wings of a raven, transforming in a rush of Ashmar to stand before her in the soft light of dusk. Talsy’s heart swelled with joy and tenderness, a huge lump blocking her throat as tears of happiness threatened to overflow. She stepped into this embrace, and his arms closed around her as he bowed his head, wings of jet hair brushing her skin like a slither of satin. Again she knew the wonder of his closeness, the utter lack of scent and the warm silken smoothness of his skin. She slid her hands under the ragged black leather jacket and eased it off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. Undressing him was like worship, slowly revealing every inch of his flawless body, unmarked by the changes in skin colour that Truemen suffered from the sun. She hated her own piebald flesh, tanned on the face and arms, the rest a sickly pale shade. She was at least slender and fit, her figure unchanged by Travain’s birth, save for the long pale scar that ran down the centre of her belly. When they were naked, Chanter lifted her chin with a slender hand.
“Do you wish it to be magical?”
Talsy nodded, her eyes glowing, and he smiled. Three Powers manifested together in a gentle wash of warm sweet air that sparkled and glowed with fire, misted by gentle rain and swirled to the beat of soft wings. He clasped her face and pressed his forehead to hers, and the dull room vanished.
They stood upon the clouds, surrounded by the vast blueness of the sky, the land a hazy green swathe far below. Talsy gasped and clung to him, and he chuckled, enfolding her in a comforting embrace. A golden sunset warmed them with its brilliant rays and soft winds caressed her skin. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, revelling in the hard warmth of his chest and arms, secure in his embrace. He knelt and lowered her into the clouds’ gossamer mist, stretching out beside her.
She gazed at him raptly. “Is it real?”
“As real as you want it to be.”
“I want it to be real.”
“Then it is.”
Something changed at that moment, a faint frisson of icy power that sent a delightful shiver up her spine. The soft touch of the clouds dewed her skin with water, and tiny flames surrounded her. She lay in a cocoon of fire and ice, floating on the ethers high above the world, and the man who lay beside her was a god to her. His skin glowed like molten gold, his eyes gleamed with the translucent azure of the sky and his jet hair held the depth of midnight heavens glinting with silver stars. She looked at herself, and gasped. Her skin glistened like alabaster, and the hair that fell over her shoulders shone in a riot of spun gold. She was a goddess lying in the arms of a god, and the beauty of it all made her laugh with joy and pull him closer. The world melted away into a warm wet swirl of elements.
Talsy woke in her bed; Chanter sprawled beside her, snoring softly. She could hardly believe that what she had experienced had not been a dream; it seemed too fantastic to have been real, and she prodded the sleeping Mujar until he sighed and opened his eyes.
“Was it real?”
He smiled. “As real as you wanted it to be.”
“Don’t give me that inscrutable Mujar crap.”
“What does it matter?”
She chewed her lip, unsure. “I need to know.”
“It was real.”
“We were floating in the clouds?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m not capable of defying the laws of gravity, little one, at least, not with another’s body.”
“Then what?”
“The elements were real; I filled the room with clouds and fire and wind. The rest you shared from my mind, but it too was a real memory, not imagination, you understand?”
She nodded, a lump blocking her throat. “It was beautiful.”
“As I intended it to be, of course. When you tricked me, you cheated yourself of what I could provide. Now you truly know what it is to lie with a Mujar.”
Talsy lowered her eyes shyly. “Have you lain with other women?”
“Yes, but not like that. They were content merely with my touch and presence, but you asked for magic.”
“Thank you.”
“Ah, Talsy, it was a gift. How can I deny you anything?”
She sighed and pulled him close, content to lie in his arms until the dawn light brightened and the birds sang outside.
That day, Chanter swept away the walls within the lowest part of the castle. Leaving smooth pillars of grey stone to uphold the rooms above, he created a vast chamber to accommodate the hundreds of chosen who would gather to witness the wielding of the staff.
In the afternoon, he took the Staff of Law down and placed it at the centre of the room, awaiting Dancer’s readiness. A buzz of excitement filled the valley during the next three days of Dancer’s preparation, and each night Talsy knew the dream-like wonder of Chanter’s magic. Each time the visions were different. They lay together in the sea’s warm blue depths, frolicked in deep mountain snows and played in a mighty river’s rushing power.
With him, she became a goddess every night, even gaining his powers with his consent and commanding the elements herself, sometimes with startling results. He laughed at her wonder and joy, shared his powers with a warm tenderness that at times made her weep from sheer happiness. Nothing could ever compare to the delight he gave her, using his powers to take her on magical journeys into the realm of dreams and fantasies. Her bliss swept away her worries about Travain’s fate, secure in the knowledge that he would survive the restoration of the laws, an outcome she had always hoped for.
On the day of reckoning, a vast storm hung overhead. Ugly brown thunderheads rolled past, illuminated by sheets of purple lightning. The earth trembled, and the people who gathered to witness the law’s restoration were glad to escape the downpour of purified rain that swept the valley outside. While they waited for Dancer to make his appearance, Talsy and Chanter stood in the doorway and watched the storm rage outside the barrier of his power.
“It’s a bad one, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Mmm. For those in the chaos, yes. The rain that falls there is acid, and will kill anything it touches.”
“How can that happen?”
“The elements are mixing now. The clouds are filled with Dolana, particularly sulphur from the volcanoes. This, mixed with other things, makes an acid. Just as the sea is filling with Dolana, so is the sky, and if the laws were not restored, soon there would be no more land, sea or air, just a mixture of everything in a cauldron of wild elements and raging wind that nothing could live in, like the worlds the gods have never touched.”
“You could live in it.”
He smiled. “Yes, but I would not wish to.”
A grey dove fluttered out of the rain and landed at their feet. It shook water from its feathers, then transformed in a gust of cold wind. Dancer looked nervous, and, at Chanter’s gesture, softened his tallana so Chanter could clasp his shoulder in a reassurance. Chanter urged him into the vast hall, were a murmuring crowd stood around the walls. At the Mujars’ entry, it fell silent, watching the two approach the Staff of Law. Travain waited with his arm around the shoulders of a plump Aggapae girl with soft brown eyes and sun-streaked hair.
Talsy went over to him. She did not know where amongst the thousands of laws the one that would change him would be, but did not think that Danya should be beside him when his fate struck. She advised the girl to stand with her parents, stilling Travain’s protests with a steely look. He sighed and turned his attention to the staff as Danya left. Kieran joined them, standing on the other side of Talsy, and she was glad of his solid presence.
Chanter and Dancer stood beside the staff, the young Mujar plucking up the courage to begin his long ordeal. He seemed uncertain, but his time in the wilds had filled him with the purity and power only a Mujar could contain. Thousands of glowing golden lines ringed the staff’s gnarled stone, each a sentence of illegible script. It radiated power in a strange, passive way, bestowing neither joy nor sadness, but a strong sense of order. At Dancer’s nod, Chanter addressed the Staff of Law.
“Staff, begin.”
The first law scorched the air with golden fire, written in the strange angular runes that covered the staff, unreadable to anyone but Dancer. The youngster gazed at the burning words, then stepped up to the staff and gripped it with one hand. The staff hovered several inches above the floor, towering over the Mujar. His eyes swept the sea of faces that the guttering torches on the walls lighted, lingering for a moment on Travain. Turning back to the golden words, he read them again, then spoke slowly, with grave intonation, his face devoid of emotion.
“Mujar ess Hashon isharak con torra. Life and Death shall never mingle.”
Dancer pulled the staff down as he spoke the god words, and its foot struck the ground with a mighty boom that shook the castle’s foundations. As it struck, a sheet of golden fire spat from the first line of writing, swept outwards in a ripple of flame that hissed through the stone walls all around them and vanished into the world. People ducked and cried out in fear, but the fire harmed no one, not even those it passed through.
Out in the chaos, not far from the vanishing red desert, a mighty black monolith loomed ugly and corrupted over the blighted land. Neither dead nor alive, it tore apart in a crack of thunder as the sheet of golden fire passed through it. A rain of ash fell, and two spots of power appeared in its place, hanging in the air like stars, one radiating pale brilliance, the other a point of utter darkness. For an instant they hung, then the brilliant one turned into a brown nut and fell to the ground, the other became a bleached bone. The Staffs of Life and Death lay not far from each other, forever parted.
The Torrak Jahar, galloping in pursuit of fleeing Truemen, stumbled and fell. Some smashed on the hard ground, others slowed like clockwork toys unwound, the light of their sullen yellow eyes snuffed out. Their victims turned to stare at their former hunters with hollow, grateful eyes, remembering the sheet of golden fire that had hissed over them moments before. The living rock ceased to grow, the elementals of fire and wind fell apart and blew away. Creatures of stone and soil slumped, giving up their corrupted life. The walking corpses of those who did not know they were dead fell and did not arise. A gentle wind began to blow, fluttered dead leaves and broke the hush that had fallen when the first law traversed the land.
The staff floated up, and the line of golden writing changed. Dancer read it, and spoke again. “Isha ess amon isharak bacha tosh alchon. Day and night shall follow each other. “
He pulled the staff down, and the foot struck the floor with another thunderous boom, shaking the castle. Golden fire spat from the second line of writing and hissed away in a ripple of flame. A shudder passed through the ground, and the staff floated up once more. The burning words changed, and Dancer read them.
“Dolan, shissa, ashmar ess crayash isharak ton deva rullon ess shava chrujon. Land, sea, air and fire shall have separate dominions and equal power. “
The staff struck the ground with a boom that rattled the windows, and golden fire hissed away from the third line of writing.
In the chaos, the golden fire whispered across the land in a spreading circle, like a ripple in a pool, spreading out in all directions from the valley of its source. The clouds loosed their burden of Dolana in a storm of falling dust. The sky turned blue, and the clouds grey and fluffy white. The sea turned aquamarine as the silt that killed its fish sank to the bottom, allowing the beleaguered water breathers to shake the dirt from their gills and breathe easily again. The streams cleared, the lakes became blue, and the burning land extinguished with a dull thud. Fiery rain turned to water, rivers of acid dried up. Skinny, weary people emerged from their shelters of stone and dried mud to stare up at a sky of perfect blue and count the white clouds that marched across it. The gentle breeze gusted, lifted dead leaves from forest floors, and strengthened to a soft wind.
Talsy glanced out of the window and gave a cry of joy, drawing everyone’s attention to the indigo sky above the valley. While they gazed, entranced, at its beauty, Dancer brought the staff down and spoke the fourth law.
“Ast theja isharak ot jashor purderos. All things shall be drawn downwards.”
The boom rolled away with the hissing fire, but no discernable difference could be sensed. Only those who had ventured into the chaos knew that now the streams and rivers would resume their flow to the sea, and those things that flew but where too heavy for flight would plummet to the ground.
The staff floated up, and the writing changed. Dancer read it.
“Dolanoras isharak jor imdar echerin moranoch. Earth blood shall run deep within the world. “
Again, as the fire hissed away, accompanied by the boom of the staff striking the floor, nothing appeared to happen, not even a shudder. Talsy, however, knew that all the foul black rivers would cease to run, and the corruption beneath the soil would sink back into its proper place. This was the fifth law, and she wondered when they would come to the one that would decide Travain’s fate. It appeared that the first laws dealt with the world in general, its construction, makeup and behaviour. The sixth law ordered the changing seasons, which had been erratic since the breaking of the staff, and the seventh ordered the weather to follow its rightful course. The eighth law was a long one, and brought a glad sigh from the chosen as the staff boomed onto the floor and the fire hissed away.
“Trees and plants shall grow upon the earth, yielding their bounty to those who must eat.”
In the chaos, the soft wind rose to sweep the clouds into long streaks across the sky. Dying trees bent in the wind, dry branches snapping off to crash down. As the golden light hissed through them, greenness sprouted from their twigs. Leaves unfolded and spread to catch the sun, rattling in the growing wind. A spatter of rain wet the soil, and a billion seeds sprouted at once. They sent eager roots into the fertile soil and raised delicate, questing shoots to the sunlight and wind.
The blackened land became furred with greenness, and long dead forests burst into life. New shoots twisted towards the sun, lashed by the wind. In a distant land, a group of men felling a forest looked up as the golden fire hissed past, the rising wind ruffling their hair. The mighty tree they had just cut creaked and groaned, and they gaped as the wound in its trunk sealed up. Many flung down their wizard-made tools of Dolana and fled, the wind beating their backs as if to drive them away.
The wilting forest giants the woodcutters had felled rotted away in a moment, giving back their precious goodness to the land that had birthed them. In their place, a million seedlings burst from the fecund soil, opening fresh young leaves. The Kuran’s power enveloped the Lowmen with her fury and joy, and the air filled with her sweet power, a green mist that speeded all growing things to sprout.
The men cowered as the wind howled through the forest and the earth shook. The forest people raised their faces and fell to their knees to dig in the rich earth and savour the winds of change. They held out handfuls of soil in homage to its power, smiling with joy at its coming. All over the land, the chosen fell to their knees in gratitude and worship, revelling in the cleansing wind that rose to a howl of fury. They dug their hands into the forgiving earth and clung to it as the wind shrieked.
The ninth law hissed away with a savage crackle of fire as Dancer brought the staff hammering down. “The guardians of this world shall protect their dominions.”
The staff rose, the writing changed, and Dancer read the tenth law. “The beasts shall dwell within their own realms.”
The staff smashed down, and the law sizzled away on its golden fire. The staff rose, the writing changed, and Dancer’s voice rose to a shout. “No creature of this world shall kill another!”
The fire hissed away with the thunderous boom, the staff rose, the writing changed, and Dancer shouted, “No creature of this world shall practice deception!”
The chosen cowered from the young Mujar, whose eyes glowed with power, his face lighted by the god words he spoke. The staff rose, the writing changed, and Dancer cried, “No creature of this world shall take what is not rightfully theirs!”
The guttural god words filled the watchers with awe and fear. The staff’s booming crashes cracked the floor stones. The fire hissed away with a savage snarl of flame, brighter and hotter than before. The staff rose, the writing changed, and Dancer cried the fourteenth law.
“Unon isharak megan Mujar! None shall harm Life!”
As if to punctuate the words already bathed in fire and heralded by thunder, a crackle from outside drew everyone’s attention to the windows. A great wind invaded the valley and howled around the castle. It battered the windows and swept into the hall with a cold, fresh breath that scoured the darkest corners and filled their hearts with joy. Talsy gasped, clinging to Travain as the wind moaned around them. Travain stared at his father, who stood behind Dancer, as unmoved by the wind as the young Mujar. Dust and leaves blew in through the doors and windows to cover the floor, carried by the winds of change. Talsy turned her face to it and savoured it, revelling in its sweet power that blew away the dirt and stagnation and replaced it with the thrill of the wild.
Out in the chaos, the golden laws flashed over the land. A deer that hunters had recently brought down leapt up as its wounds healed and vanished, to bound away into the growing wind. The hunters cursed the wind and shielded their faces from its stinging power, staggering under its pushing force. They clung to trees as the wind rose to a screaming fury, and several were swept away with cries of anguish. The men gaped as herds of extinct beasts appeared from the air, galloping wild and free, brought back from oblivion.
Far from shore, upon the wind-tossed waves of the blue ocean, fishermen pulled in nets filled with struggling fish and drowning dolphins. The golden law rippled overhead, and the wind shrieked down upon them with avenging fury, capsized their boat and tossed them into the stormy sea. The net shredded and the dolphins swam free. On a beach, a group of hunters smashed the heads of helpless seal pups, killing them for their valuable fur. The law sizzled through the sky, and the wind picked them up and flung them into the sea.
In a distant land, an army of twisted creatures led by Truemen soldiers invaded a town of chosen, intending to steal their land, rape the women, and plunder their few possessions. The laws scythed overhead, and the wind screamed in their wake. It enveloped the warriors in a howling storm so strong it sent them staggering back, forcing them to retreat its vengeful wrath. The chosen fell to their knees and dug in the soft brown soil, raising hands smeared with mud. Driven by an urge they did not understand, they used the wet soil to trace a circle on their brows, drawing a cross through it.
Talsy sensed the wind’s growing power. Twenty laws had been read, a fraction of the thousands to come, but she knew that the one she dreaded drew near. She could sense the direction of the writing that now instructed the beasts in their ways. She caught Chanter’s eyes, which were full of sorrow and gentle pain. Fear gripped her heart, and she turned to embrace Travain.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said, the wind carrying her words to him. “I love you, Travain; you’re a child of the gods.”
The crossbreed’s eyes widened with realisation, and he turned to look at his father. The staff rose, the fiery words changed, and Dancer read the next law. “Yay isharak teshon ejan toh yinja! All shall breed only with their own kind!”
The staff hit the ground with a mighty boom, and golden fire spat from the twentieth line, hissing across the room. As it touched Travain, his back arched and his mouth opened in a soundless cry that Talsy filled with her scream. His eyes glazed and rolled back, and he shuddered as he crumpled.
“Chanter!” Talsy shrieked, clutching her limp son. “Help me!”
The Mujar appeared at her side, placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her to meet his eyes. “He will not die.”
“He’s dead!”
“No.”
“He has no pulse, he’s not breathing!”
“He’s not dead. He cannot die, his Mujar blood will save him.”
His calm insistence alleviated her fear somewhat, but her anguish knew no bounds. “What will happen to him?”
“I told you, he will change.”
“Into what?”
“Take him to his bed. Kieran will help you.” He summoned the Prince with a curt gesture, waiting until the staff’s resounding boom faded and Dancer read next law. He spoke in the brief silence between the laws, and Kieran nodded, slid his arms under Travain and carried him out. Talsy trotted beside him, clinging to her son’s hand.
Wind and dead leaves filled Travain’s room. She slammed the window shut, denying it entry, and knelt beside the bed in the ensuing calm. Travain lay as still as the dead, his skin pale. She held his hand to her cheek and wept.
In the chaos, a herd of manhorses that galloped through the wind crumpled, ploughing into the ground as their lives were snatched from them. Manbulls fell where they stood in the cities, slumped at their labours and sprawled in the fields. Their death was instant and painless. Manants plunged from the skies, dead long before they hit the ground. Entire colonies died where they stood, turning their vast mud citadels into tombs. The law shimmered overhead, and bear-wolves, wolf-cats, pig-sheep, lizard-birds, goat-cows, dog-cats, and all those whose ancestry was lost in time, died. They fell in the forests and on the green-furred plains. They dropped from the sky and turned belly up in the sea, surrounded by the sprouting of new life. Timid purebreds walked amongst the fallen, twisted bodies of those who should never have been born, and knew their folly.
Talsy knelt beside Travain’s bed. The staff’s booming shuddered the walls, and the sheets of golden fire flashed through the room as each law was read. That which she had put into action, and would save the world from destruction, would also rob her of her son. The wind howled and rattled the windows, demanding to be let in. She ignored its plaintive whining and held the cooling hand of her dead son. Already he seemed to rot. His cheeks had sunk, his eyes had become hollow and his flesh melted away. A white substance, like cobweb, formed on his skin, and she brushed it away.
“Talsy.”
She turned at the sound of Chanter’s voice. He stood in the doorway, and Kieran sidled out.
“He’s dead,” she sobbed.
“No, he only seems dead. Mujar can’t die. Come away now, you must leave him in peace.”
She leapt up and flung herself at him, pounding his chest. “He’s dead! He’s already rotting! You lied! Look at him!”
He gripped her wrists. “No. I’m not going to keep saying it. He’s not dead, nor is he rotting.”
Talsy wept while he held her close and stroked her hair. He turned and pulled her outside, closed the door and locked it. Kieran waited in the corridor, and Chanter pushed her into his arms.
“Look after her. I must return to Dancer.”
Kieran nodded and led her to her room, where he persuaded her to lie down and sat beside her. The wind howled outside, and had invaded the room to litter the floor with leaves. Talsy wept until she fell asleep, exhausted, and Kieran kept vigil at her bedside.
For three days and nights, Dancer read the laws, and the staff boomed ceaselessly against the floor. The golden fire hissed through the walls and out into the world. The wind howled and hammered at the windows and doors, and burst in to scatter leaves over the floors. At times, it rose to screaming fury, then died away to a breeze. The clouds raced overhead, torn and twisted by the winds of change. The land shivered almost constantly now, as its fabric reformed and adjusted to obey the laws.
Towards the end of the third day, Kieran urged Talsy to get up and go downstairs to witness the last laws. Though many people had left during the reading, requiring food and sleep, most had returned for the final laws, which ordered things so small that most would not have imagined there were laws to govern them. The golden fire spat from the base of the staff, and the floor was cracked and worn into a depression beneath the pounding of its metal-shod foot.
Talsy stared at it, numb with grief. Dancer intoned the laws quietly now. The fire reached the last few lines, then finally, the very last one. The staff rose, the golden words changed, and Dancer read the last law. The staff struck the ground, and golden fire spat from the lowest line of writing, hissing away as the boom shuddered the building. The golden lines of writing vanished. Dancer stared at the empty air, then released the staff and stepped back, staggered and collapsed. Chanter caught him, lowering him into a chair. Dancer’s eyes closed and his head drooped, his hands curled in his lap.
Talsy was puzzled, for Mujar never tired. Her interest sparked, she went over to the young Mujar. “What’s wrong with him?”
Chanter looked up and smiled. “Nothing. He’s been wielding Dolana for three days. He’s a bit numb.”
Dancer sighed and straightened, his dazed expression fading as he looked around. “It’s over?”
“Yes,” Chanter said, “it’s over.”
“Good. I’m starving.” The youngster jumped up and headed for the door, darting past the people who filed out. Talsy contemplated the room where history had been made. The great staff hung above the hollow it had worn in the floor, its lines of law glowing faintly. Every now and then a line brightened, then dimmed again.
She glanced at Chanter. “Why does it do that?”
“It’s keeping the world in order. Even now, men are discovering that mating with animals is fruitless, and animals are turning away from those they should not breed with. Somewhere, rain is falling as it should, trees are growing, and streams are running downhill. The earth blood is sinking deep into the earth, new Kuran are coming into being, flowers are opening to the bees, fish are spawning, night is falling, and all is well in the world.”
Talsy watched the flashing lines. Mostly, the ones near the bottom of the staff, the minor laws, brightened and dimmed. The topmost line seemed brighter than the rest, glowing steadily.
She pointed at it. “Why is the first law active?”
“Because it’s being broken, even now.”
“By whom?”
“Travain.”
Talsy swung to face him. “How? Tell me!”
He sighed. “A part of him is dying, the rest is still alive. The staff is doing its best to kill him, but it can’t.”
“What’s happening to him?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I told you he can’t die, but he must change. The law will not tolerate a crossbreed, so he must become pure.”
“Pure what?” she demanded, already knowing the answer.
“Since that’s the part of him that can’t die, he’ll become pure Mujar.”
“You knew!” she accused. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I want to see him.” She swung away, but he grabbed her arm.
“No, you must not. It will only upset you.”
She blinked back tears. “What will he be like?”
“Like me, like Dancer. When he wakes he will be Drummer, not Travain.”
“But he’s still my son. He’ll always be my son!”
“Yes, you bore him, so he’ll always be your son.”
“But he’ll be Mujar.”
“Utterly,” he agreed.
“Will he know me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do!” she said. “You don’t lie, but you evade. You know what he’ll be like, tell me!”
“I would say that he won’t know you. Mujar don’t remember their birth.”
“Until they return to a flower.”
“Yes, that’s true. I’m only guessing, but be prepared. No pure Mujar has ever been borne by a woman. He may not know you’re his mother, but I’m not sure, which is why I said I don’t know. It is neither a lie nor an evasion, but the truth.”
She glanced up at the staff. “So when his transformation is complete, that law will dim?”
“Yes.”
“Why can’t I see him?”
“He’s not a pretty sight. His Trueman flesh is dying. I’ll take care of him, he’s my son too.”
Her heart warmed at his claim, but she knew that he was only saying it to make her happy. Still, it sounded good. “How long will it take?”
“I don’t know.” He smiled at her suspicious look. “How could I? This has never happened before. A week, maybe two, I would guess.”
Talsy became aware of the stillness around them. The wind had died, leaving a strange hush that seemed quieter for the lack of its howling. Outside, stars twinkled in an inky sky, and two guttering torches shed soft light in the vast chamber. She regarded the ancient staff with its glowing lines.
“How long can it remain here?”
“Not too long.” He bent and scooped sand from the floor, holding it out. “See? Already it starts.” The sand in his palm was blood red.
She nodded. “So you’ll send it back where it belongs, then what?”
“Then we journey to the Lake of Dreams, and beyond that, the plains where the wingless sliver bird fell from the sky.”
“That’s where we’ll be tested?”
“No, they will be tested in the Lake of Dreams, but not you. You’ve already passed the tests they’ll face.”
“In the lake?” she asked, puzzled. “Underwater?”
“No.” He chuckled. “There’s no water in the Lake of Dreams.”
“Then why is it called a lake?”
He shrugged. “Because the gods call it that.”
“So what is it?”
Chanter went to a chair and settled on it with a sigh, inviting her to perch on his knee. When she did, he asked, “Have you ever wondered where the creatures of this world have gone to? Did you see any in the chaos?”
“No. Where did they go?”
“There are secret places on this world. Places you can neither see nor enter, but the creatures of this world, including Mujar, can see and enter them. They are called Jasha, a god word that, roughly translated, means lake. They are part of this world, yet not, for they are in another dimension parallel to this one. The gods created them to protect their creatures from Lowmen. It would be better to call them planes, portions of another dimension that dissect this one. There are many Jasha, and they all have names. Some have special purposes too.” He paused, looking thoughtful.
“The Lake of Renewal, for instance, is where most of the creatures of this world go to procreate, give birth and raise their young. There are several used for this purpose, the Lake of Birth, the Lake of Life and so on. Then there is the Lake of Joy, a place of great bounty, where the creatures of this world go to relax and play. You may also have noticed that you never see a dead creature of this world, and that’s because they go to a lake to die, and that’s the Lake of Dreams.”
Talsy shivered, and he held her tighter. “It’s not a place to fear, but rather one of great beauty. It’s also called the sacred land of Antanar, by Mujar. That’s where all the souls of your people dwell, and mine, awaiting rebirth. The chosen will be tested there by the souls of Mujar, Truemen, and other creatures of this world. The tests will be visions of the dead, but those they meet in the Lake of Dreams won’t be the ones killed in the gods’ retribution. Their souls are still trapped by the Hashon Jahar, and will only be released upon the Plains of Redemption, after the final test. Unfortunately, after a delay of seven years, we’ll have to detour to enter the Lake of Dreams. The lakes drift, moving slowly around the world, though they stay on land. The Lake of Dreams is no longer on the way to the Plains of Redemption.”
“How will we get in?”
“With me.” He smiled. “I’ll open a doorway for the chosen. I’m not sure, but it’s possible that the gods will see fit to reward the chosen with a key to the lakes, since those who survive the testing will be no threat to their creatures. I think this will happen, for the gods are trying to make you their own, and therefore no part of this world will be forbidden or hidden to you.”
“But I’m not to be tested again?”
“No, you’ll see the Lake of Dreams as it really is. The others will see visions.”
“And what will happen to those who fail?”
He shrugged. “They’ll stay there.”
Talsy shivered again and wound her arms around his neck. “Even Kieran?”
“Kieran will pass, of that I’m certain.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s as good as you.” He scrutinised her teasingly. “Maybe even a little better.”
She smacked him playfully, and he pretended to be mortally injured by it, making her giggle. He heaved her off his lap and stood up, leading her into the corridor.
“All this talk has made me hungry, let’s eat.”