Due to the talents of Red Ajithi’s piloting, the Daystar had avoided Vireon’s awesome blade. Like all of the surviving dreadnoughts, the ship had taken to the ground and spilled its legions across the ravaged plain. Now those same legions returned with their battle lust unquenched. The order of retreat had been given by Eshad and spread across the armada by the voice of his sorcery.
There might have been a struggle over who would command the legions now, but Sungui was the tender of the flagship’s Ethus Tree, and the Daystar was the Queen of the armada. Therefore command fell naturally to Sungui in the absence of Lavanyia, who had remained at the New Holy Mountain. None of the seven hundred transformed Seraphim objected to this. Their minds were still swimming with the ingested power of Zyung and the great revelation of Iardu’s heart-essence. As a drop of poison will spread itself throughout an entire bottle of wine or carafe of water, so had the Shaper’s salt permeated that of Zyung.
Yet it was a venom sweet as honey and potent as flame.
At the rail of the forward deck Sungui stood between Ianthe and Gammir, watching the Manslayers board the several hundred remaining sky-ships. She sensed Ianthe’s brooding discontent long before the Panther revealed it with words. In that same mysterious way, she knew the still contemplation of the High Seraphim as they paced the decks of surrounding vessels. She recognized so much more of everything now, in the wake of Iardu’s gift.
She knew the confusion of the Lesser Seraphim, who did not understand the retreat any more than the armored legions who obeyed the order. Yet there was relief and fear mingled with the curiosity of the Lesser Ones. The High Seraphim had consumed a third of their own number; however, the Lesser Ones had lost more than half their ranks to the sorcery of Alua and Vireon. The Lesser Seraphim had no idea of the rebel coven’s existence until they had witnessed the unthinkable fall of Zyung, and his swift devouring. Yet it was far beyond their power to stop the mutiny, as it was now far beyond them to resist the Eaters of Zyung.
Sungui’s sharp eyes scanned the moonlit plain. The true Uurz lay to the south, a mountain of glittering lights rising above shadowed ramparts. Watchfires burned in the windows of its guard towers as the legions of Men and Giants marched through its open gate. By the actions of Iardu, Lyrilan, and their clever allies, the City of Sacred Waters had completely avoided another great slaughter.
“Even now we could turn these dreadnoughts toward the real Uurz,” said Ianthe. Her mane rustled like a mantle of white silk in the night wind. “Your legions of Men and sorcerers still outnumber them greatly, Sungui.”
Gammir watched Sungui’s face for a reaction. He knew that something about her was not the same, but he did not understand the nature of her change. Perhaps he sensed this among all of the High Seraphim. Yet Iardu’s gift had not affected the Wolf or the Panther. Possibly they were beyond its reach, as blind cave-creatures are beyond the reach of the sun’s glory.
“You already know my answer to that,” Sungui said. “I will honor my given word.”
“Of course,” said Ianthe. “You are anxious to see your homeland again, where you and your cousins will divide Zyung’s empire. The Land of the Five Cities is of little consequence with so many other kingdoms awaiting your rule. I understand this. In fact Gammir and I will help you to smash the Living Empire and reforge it in your own image. Then we will return here to reclaim our own lands. After all, we are immortal, and time is of little consequence to us. Let the people of the Five Cities believe us vanquished for a while; we will catch the next generation of Men unawares and take back what is rightfully ours.”
Sungui sighed as she watched the ranks of Manslayers file onto the broad decks of ships. At the center of the great circle of dreadnoughts lay the wreckage of half the armada and the bodies of uncounted dead, all withering inside a mountain of white flame. A warm wind blew across the inferno to warm her face, yet there was no smoke rising from this sorcerous pyre. Alua’s mystical flame would burn all night, and in the morning there would be no trace of the invaders left upon the spoiled plain. Only a great, leagues-wide circle of charred earth that would grow fertile and green again within a season or two.
She imagined the healthy green stalks of the steppe once more taking root in the black, rich soil. It made her long for the purple plains outside the Holy City. Zyung was dead, consumed into oblivion, but the great land that bore his name lived on.
It must live on. It must not burn like these shattered vessels and their crews.
In a moment of outward metamorphosis that strangely mirrored her inner transformation, Sungui shifted toward her male aspect. The silver robe rippled about expanding arms and shoulders. When it was done, he turned to address Ianthe directly.
“I do not think that I–that we–shall break apart the Living Empire after all,” Sungui said. The minds of the High Seraphim were like the lights of the distant city, gleaming about him with a newfound sense of peace and purpose. He saw them as clearly as any message beacons.
“What?” Ianthe placed a hand on her hip, cocking her splendid head at him.
Gammir growled low in his throat, like a suspicious mongrel.
Sungui crossed his hands behind his back and walked the fore-deck to the opposite railing. Panther and Wolf followed him, drawn along by his every word. They ignored his sudden transformation from female to male. It was his mental alteration that concerned them.
They will never understand this illumination. They are incapable of it.
“When we absorbed Zyung’s essence, we absorbed also his dream,” Sungui said. “His Great Idea. Call it his Wisdom, if that helps you to understand. We spent ages helping to build his great vision of order and peace. Tending the Tree of Empire, he called it. There are millions of people who benefit from the order we have created, perhaps billions. This was an idea born from long ages of chaos, suffering, and war. Zyung sought to end this plague that afflicted humanity.” He turned to meet the skeptical faces of his listeners. “For it was the same plague that afflicted us… the Old Breed.”
Ianthe laughed. “The power of Zyung is intoxicating, and it has made you drunk. Gammir and I have relished its potency as well, yet we did not absorb this dream of which you speak. The absence of Zyung’s order–his tyranny to be more accurate–means freedom for those of your kind. Why should you care if this brings chaos to Men, these wretched creatures? Their place is below us, ants beneath the heels of Giants.”
“You ate of Zyung’s salt as we did,” said Sungui, “yet you did not inherit his dream because you never understood it. You cannot. You are too deeply rooted in your own malady. Like Zyung himself, whose entire being was rooted in the empire that he built, you are incapable of change. We are not. And we have changed.”
Ianthe offered only silence for a moment. Sungui watched the flickering of stars in the black sky. How had he never noticed their sparkling beauty until this moment? The minds of his fellow High Ones shared this thought, as they had come to share so many things since the devouring.
Ianthe smiled and placed her arm about Sungui’s broad shoulders. “I see now, Venomous One. You would set yourself above all others as the God-King’s replacement. The Almighty Reborn, a whole new High Lord Celestial who will keep the Living Empire alive in your own name instead of Zyung’s. And do you expect the rest of your High Seraphim to follow you in this? To worship you as they worshipped Zyung?”
“No,” said Sungui. “My fellow Seraphim and I are equals. I would not subjugate them, nor would they accept my subjugation. I am simply a catalyst, an agent of change. Zyung knew this, as he knew so many things. I wonder now if he—”
“Enough!” said Ianthe. Her teeth were bared in a vicious grin, the incisors long and sharp as ivory barbs. “You wished for an end to Zyung’s reign, you worked toward this end with my aid, and now you abandon its rewards? Have I wasted my time in serving your cause? I might have taken Zyung’s power for myself!”
Sungui tilted his head. “That you could not have done without the aid of the High Seraphim and your own enemies, Lyrilan and Iardu chief among them. Zyung’s power was beyond your own. If it had been otherwise, you would not have hidden your subversion from him.”
Ianthe withdrew from Sungui. The Panther’s narrow eyes were bright with darkness. Gammir leaned against Ianthe from behind, grasping her arm as a child clings to his mother.
“Then all this was for naught?” said Ianthe. “The Living Empire will remain as it was, except ruled by a Council of God-Kings instead of a single one?”
“No,” said Sungui. “The Living Empire will remain, yes, but like we Seraphim it will change. Under Zyung it could not do this. Now it shall prosper with new virtues.”
“New virtues?”
“An Age of Illumination,” said Sungui, “built upon the pillars of compassion, free will, and independent thought, all tempered by the rule of order. The empire preserves the peace, yet it must also preserve the people. Even the lowest of them must be free to walk the path of their own choosing, to worship their own Gods, and sing their own songs. No more slaves. Zyung’s greatest mistake was his complete annihilation of freedom. Here in the Five Cities men are free to do as they will, yet their Kings and Emperors keep order and peace alive. The peoples of this land are content, full of joy, and blessed with personal liberty. Still they choose to honor their rulers and serve their kingdoms unto death. This is the true path to the Great Society that Zyung imagined but never perfected. The New Seraphim will not be self-appointed Gods. We shall be Kings and Sages and Healers.”
The minds of the New Seraphim gleamed as bright as Alua’s white flames across the armada. Sungui knew they all had heard and agreed with his words. This was a shared enlightenment. A transfiguration, and a bond like none other. The path to a glorious future.
“This foolishness was not Zyung’s vision,” Ianthe said. “He demanded worship and fealty. He ruled with cruelty and ruthless might as the Old Breed have always done.”
“Not all of them,” said Sungui. “The wisest ones have never done so.”
Ianthe simmered, her taloned fists clenching.
“Iardu…” She said the name as if it were a curse. “The Shaper has reshaped you fools! Now I understand his blood scattered upon the salt of Zyung. You are under his spell even now!”
“No.” Sungui stepped close to the Panther. She was beginning to vex him. Yet he had expected this. “Say rather that the long spell of Zyung has been broken by Iardu’s sacrifice. His salted heart has permeated our vision, awakened us like cold water poured in the face of a sleeper. He has given us wisdom, an understanding of his own Great Idea, his dream that carved these Five Cities and built this land of wonders. Inside of us the conflicting dreams of Zyung and Iardu have blended into one. The Living Empire will be reborn by this united wisdom, as we ourselves have been. Since you cannot understand this, Panther, bother me no more. You may leave the New Seraphim if you wish. With or without you we sail for home this night.”
Sungui turned his back to Ianthe and walked toward the middle deck. He must speak with the captain before the long journey home could begin.
The Panther struck without a sound. She pounced upon Sungui’s back and sank her talons into his neck. Gammir in wolf form snapped yellow fangs as Ianthe straddled Sungui and flipped him over to expose vulnerable belly and chest. Ianthe spat a word of power, and suddenly Sungui could neither move nor speak. His connection to the minds of the New Seraphim had been broken, cut from him as easily as sliced threads.
Ianthe peered into his face. She was half woman and half Panther now. Gammir’s red wolf-eyes loomed next to hers, which were sharp as black diamonds.
“Now I will drink your essence,” Ianthe said, panting. “Not through your salt, but through your blood. The poison of Iardu will not harm me. I will take your place at the head of these New Seraphim. They will follow me again as they followed me in this rebellion. I will take these ships and burn this land to ash like the Serpents of old. Then I will rear a throne of white bones in Khyrei and rule a kingdom of the dead from its seat.” Her talons dug deeper into Sungui’s bleeding flesh. “And when I am done I will come for your Living Empire and tear it to shreds. The dreams of Zyung and Iardu will both die, and only my dream will endure. The dream of Blood and Fire and Suffering. The oldest dream of all.”
Ianthe’s mouth opened wide, and her fangs sank into Sungui’s neck. There was little pain, but a great sense of violation. Ianthe sucked greedily upon the open wound she had made, pulling the first glimmers of Sungui’s life out in a gush of scarlet fluid. It dribbled from her mouth along her chin and breasts, spotting the golden wood of the deck.
Gammir’s fangs sank into Sungui’s paralyzed wrist. Now two ragged holes poured out Sungui’s lifeblood and soul-essence together. Panther and Wolf suckled at the torn flesh.
Where are my cousins? Where is Eshad, Myrinhama, even Durangshara? Why do they not rush to save me from these leeches? Where are Captain Ajithi and his soldiers? How can these beasts slay me here in the plain sight of the surrounding armada?
Then the truth of it came to Sungui. Ianthe’s magic was hiding her red feast from all those around them, as she had hidden her treachery from Zyung. Nobody on the deck of the Daystar saw this feeding, this act of heinous blood magic, nor did anyone else among the legions or the New Seraphim. Ianthe’s spell had redirected their eyes and their minds.
How much blood do I have? How much longer until they have swallowed it all?
A sensation of horrid pleasure twisted Sungui’s body. He thrashed and moaned, but none would hear it. Now, when he finally saw the beauty of life unfolding into a bright future, Sungui wanted to live more than ever. He had hungered for chaos and glory and bloodletting. Yet now he hungered for life itself, and the chance to make it better. To fulfill the promise of Zyung’s imperfect dream by investing it with Iardu’s kindness.
Stars dimmed in the upper darkness.
Ianthe drank. Gammir drank.
Sungui withered.
Thunder rocked the decks. The dreadnought trembled in the air. A burst of white light and flames filled Sungui’s vision. Two shapes hurtled from the light, colliding with the blood drinkers and tearing them away.
Ianthe screeched while Gammir howled. Their bodies slammed into the forward mast, which rocked the ship again. Four figures, intertwined, fell to the middle deck while soldiers and crewmen rushed away from them. The Panther’s spell was broken. Sungui lurched to his feet, still bleeding from neck and wrist. On the scorched deck below the forecastle Vireon grasped Gammir the Wolf by his thick neck. His blonde Queen held the White Panther in a similar deathgrip, white flames dripping from her eyes.
Alua of the Old Breed.
Sungui knew her name because Iardu had known it. The Panther and the Queen wrestled inside a ball of white flame, black claws raking pale skin, bloody fangs gnashing at Alua’s face.
Sungui’s limbs were numb. He could do little else but watch the conflict.
“Unclean beast!” Alua screamed wrath and flame across the Panther’s roaring snout. “Malignant devil! Deceiver! Slayer of Children! Today you pay for your crimes!” Alua’s hands tore at the Panther’s snowy pelt, ripping red chunks of flesh from the bone. They burned to ash as she tossed them across the deck.
Vireon said nothing as he wrestled with the Black Wolf. His teeth were gritted, his mighty arms clasped tight about the brute’s neck. Gammir was caught fast in the trap of the Giant-King’s strength. The Wolf sprouted leathery wings like those of a Trill, flapping desperately. Yet Vireon’s weight kept him pinned to the deck. His lupine claws tore at Vireon’s chest and legs but could not break the bronze skin.
The New Seraphim began to float across the railings from other ships, gathering about Sungui to watch the spectacle of white flames and dueling enemies. Durangshara raised his hand as if to cast a bolt of deathlight upon all four of them, but Sungui stopped him with a glance. Durangshara lowered the hand, and the Seraphim observed in silence.
The flames burned Ianthe’s flesh and charred the deck, but they did not ignite the Ethus wood. Even if they had, the Seraphim could have stopped the burning with a few words. There was little danger to the ship itself, and Sungui understood the justice that had fallen upon Wolf and Panther. Vireon and Alua had suffered much at the hands of these two fiends. This was the moment where the wronged King and Queen would exact their well-deserved recompense.
“You burned me to nothing once before, Ytara!” growled the Panther. “Yet I took refuge in your own belly. Have you learned nothing?”
Ianthe reared up on her hind claws and smashed Alua, who was also Ytara, to the deck. The white flame extinguished itself, except for the fires of Alua’s eyes, which burned brighter now. The Panther raked its black talons across her stomach with a splash of crimson. The fanged maw opened wide enough to snap off Alua’s head, but her swift hands grabbed the upper and lower jaw. The Panther’s fangs hovered a finger’s breadth from her face.
“I have learned many things,” said Alua. “Including the Bitch of Khyrei’s true name.”
In that instant the Panther abandoned its attempts to rend Alua’s flesh. It tore away from her and sprouted eagle’s wings from its back, leaping across the railing toward the night sky. Sungui could almost feel Ianthe’s fear from the top of the forecastle steps.
Alua grabbed the Panther’s whipping tail and slammed the winged beast against the deck. The dreadnought trembled a third time. Alua’s voice rose in a single word loud as a thunderbolt, as if she spoke with the voice of dead Zyung himself. Soldiers and slaves clasped their hands over their ears, so loud was that sound.
Where Ianthe had been scrambling upon the deck, there now stood a statue of opaque crystal in the form of a winged panther. Alua’s flame ran along its back, and the frozen wings shattered like panes of glass. Ianthe’s essence seethed inside the crystal prison. Alua examined her handiwork as the wounds on her body vanished beneath the power of her flame.
Vireon held the Black Wolf above his head now. The beast erupted with tendrils of darkness like questing black tongues. They wrapped about Vireon’s limbs, their thorny tips piercing his flesh where claws and fangs could not. With a great cry of pain and indignation, the Giant-King tore the Wolf’s body in half. Scarlet sprayed across the deck, and Gammir’s bones cracked like hammered boulders.
The Wolf howled as Vireon stood over its bisected form. The black tendrils faded to smoke and the lupine body parts flowed into the shape of a mangled and broken man. Gammir stared up at Vireon with yellow wolf-eyes that had not changed at all. His maimed arms and legs shuddered, his shattered spine convulsing. A gout of black gore burst from between his lips.
“Brother…” gasped Gammir. “Kill me now. You’ve earned the right.”
Vireon grabbed Gammir by the neck and lifted him to dangle like a ruined doll. “I too have learned many things, False Brother,” he said. The holes bored into his flesh by the cutting tendrils leaked blood across his stomach and legs. He seemed to feel no pain from these wounds. “I know that you cannot be killed as a Man is killed. You are no longer a Man, but a sorcerer. So are we both now, though spawned by different fathers.”
He tossed Gammir’s mangled body next to the crystallized Panther. Alua looked upon the wailing Wolf without pity. Vireon walked near and embraced her.
Gammir spat a fresh torrent of blood across the deck. “You will devour us then. Take our essence into yourselves.” He smiled through his pain. “There is no other way to end us. I welcome this, Brother. Let me become a part of you, as I was never truly a part of your family. Let me be the memory that will haunt you forever.”
“No, Kinslayer,” said Vireon. “You murdered my brother and my cousins. The Bitch of Khyrei murdered my father… and our daughter. Yet we will not devour you.”
“You must!” choked Gammir. “Or we will return, and the killing will begin again.”
“There are fates worse than death for immortals,” said Alua. “This you will discover, Wolf. You will be bound to your Panther forever.”
A fresh blast of the white flame coursed from Alua’s eyes. It drowned Gammir’s cries along with his shattered body. When the flames faded he, too, was a frozen lump of foggy crystal.
Alua sang an ancient song. Vireon held her left hand as her right dripped molten fires between its fingers. The crystallized pair smoked and steamed and began to merge. In a few swift moments, a single lump of amorphous quartz lay where the Wolf and Panther had been. It was large as a boulder and murky as the waters of a blood-glutted river.
Vireon lifted the boulder of crystal, which darkened now to the color of a purple bruise, or fresh-dried blood. He squeezed it between his mighty hands as if to splinter it, but it did not crack or shatter. It grew smaller instead, and smaller, and smaller still, until it was a single diamond lying in his palm, emitting a residue of sorcerous vapor.
The center of the bright diamond was a drop of crimson.
Sungui saw it clearly, even from atop the foredeck.
The undying spirits of White Panther and Black Wolf had merged–fused like the disparate dreams of Iardu and Zyung–inside a gleaming stone no bigger than a walnut. They would lie entombed in this humble prison until the end of time, unless some great power freed them. Perhaps after a few eons they would become one with the stone, and their living souls would fade into oblivion. Vireon would ensure that the red diamond never saw the light of day again.
Alua took the diamond and sang another ancient song over it, then closed it in her fist. Her eyes met Vireon’s, and a moment of understanding passed between them. The two shared a peculiar knowledge, a soul-deep communication that even Sungui’s expanded consciousness could not fathom. Perhaps it was that mysterious emotion that Men called love. He could not say for certain.
Sungui broke the uncomfortable silence with polite words.
“I thank you for ridding us of these pests,” he said. “We also have learned much, though the learning has cost us dearly. So we must depart this land, leaving our dead multitudes to enrich the soil of your plain. We wish only for peace between the two halves of the world.”
Vireon and Alua regarded Sungui with keen eyes and stern faces.
“So be it,” said Vireon.
A globe of white flame sprang up about the couple. It lifted them into the night and raced like a falling star toward glimmering Uurz.
Sungui turned to the New Seraphim gathered upon the Daystar’s deck.
So be it.
The dreadnoughts, full now with Manslayers and Trills, rose into the sky. Wind filled rustling sails, and canvas wings flapped to the rhythms of oarsmen who would soon be slaves no longer. The airships glided east beneath a sea of stars.
In the bloody gold of sunrise the fleet of the New Seraphim entered the valley. A thousand dreadnoughts had remained here, floating like seaborne galleons in the bay with sails and wings furled. A hundred legions of Manslayers were camped across the valley in the shadow of the New Holy Mountain. Orderly rows of canvas tents spread wide from both banks of the Orra, and a new bridge of white stone arced above the river. The delta was no longer stained a deep red; sunbeams gilded the water and danced across the sea.
Lavanyia and her hundred Lesser Ones had been busy. Their spells had sculpted the interior of the temple-palace into twenty-one levels, each with its own set of apartments, pillared halls, galleries, gardens, balconies, terraces, bath chambers, privies, and quarters for a hundred legions of Manslayers. In a few more days they would complete the last of the detail work that must be in place before soldiers and Seraphim could inhabit its airy precincts. Great murals, statues, arabesques, frescoes, and friezes would celebrate the Almighty and his Living Empire. Those who dwelled inside the creation of His Holiness would live in opulence and majesty.
Yet these dedicated sculptors would never finish their great labor.
Sungui pondered the wasted effort of Lavanyia and her charges. It was regrettable, but far less a tragedy than the multitudes of lives lost on both sides of this war. Lavanyia alone had survived the rise of the coven because she was not present at Uurz. She would be the last to choose between loyalty to Zyung or to the New Seraphim. If she resisted this new vision of the empire, then she must be sent to salt. Yet if she chose to join them she had none of Zyung’s essence to imbibe. None of Iardu’s either. The merged dream, the illumination of her fellow Seraphim, these things would be forever beyond her, no matter what her decision. Unless Sungui found some way to give her that illumination, as Iardu had found a way to give it to them all.
Concern and confusion spread among the encamped legions when they saw less than half of Zyung’s dispatched dreadnoughts returning from Uurz. A single day had passed since their departure. This spoke of a quick defeat. Yet the truth was so much more complicated. There had been defeat, that was true, yet there had been a victory as well. That victory belonged to the New Seraphim as much as to the defenders of Uurz. All those who served the empire could be made to understand that in time. But first Sungui must bring that understanding to Lavanyia.
The Daystar touched its hull to the water nearest the inland shore of the bay. The hundreds of other surviving dreadnoughts stationed themselves upon the calm sea outside the bay, which was already thick with anchored ships. Like the disembarked legions, those legions aboard the ships grew restless for news of the short Uurzian campaign. It would come soon, but Sungui was in no rush to end their curiosity.
The New Seraphim gathered once more upon the deck of the Daystar as the last of the fleet came to rest upon the water. The enlightened ones were seven hundred and twenty in number. Sungui counted them with his mind as they assembled, his eyes unnecessary for the task.
“She comes forth even now,” said Eshad. He stood nearest to Sungui on the middle deck. “We will have to send her to salt.”
Gulzarr nodded on Sungui’s opposite side. “Perhaps not,” said the alchemist. “Her loyalty may have perished with Zyung.”
Darisha regarded her mate with a half-smile. “Zyung resides within us now,” she said. “All of us. If Lavanyia realizes this, it may sway her.”
Durangshara shook his round head. “She has always been stubborn. She will call us traitors and choose the salt.”
“Only a fool would make that choice,” said Eshad.
Brethren.
Sungui’s mental plea sent them silent. “I will speak to Lavanyia first. Alone.”
Without waiting for their reply, Sungui rose into the sea wind and glided toward Lavanyia, who was flying toward the Daystar with a company of twelve Lesser Ones.
“What news?” asked Lavanyia in the air. “You return too soon.”
They floated above a forest of masts and sails. Sungui motioned to the Lesser Ones.
“Dismiss them,” he said “and I will explain.”
Lavanyia’s gaze fell to the Daystar, where the cluster of New Seraphim stared up at her with an odd serenity. She waved a hand and the Lesser Ones turned in mid-flight, heading back to the nearly complete temple-palace.
“Let us walk the shore,” said Sungui. Lavanyia descended with him to the strand of pale sand girding the bay. They strolled there between water and land, armada and mountain, past and future. The salty breeze was cool against Sungui’s skin. He decided to keep his male aspect for this conversation. Lavanyia had always resented the beauty of his female form.
“Where is His Holiness?” asked Lavanyia.
“Gone,” said Sungui. Wavelets washed the shore with gentle sighs.
“Do not riddle me,” said Lavanyia. “Gone where?”
“Nowhere and everywhere,” said Sungui. He stopped, turning to face her. “Gone to salt.”
Lavanyia’s face went slack as if Sungui had slapped her. She blinked, and a strand of raven hair whipped across her face.
“There has been a coup,” said Sungui. No need to be subtle. “We have taken his salt. Shared his essence and his wisdom.”
Lavanyia looked toward the Daystar again, where the mass of silver-robes stood along the railing, awaiting the answer to a question that had not yet been asked.
“Impossible…”
“May I touch your hand?” Sungui asked.
Lavanyia hesitated, but nodded.
Sungui wrapped Lavanyia’s fingers in his own, then poured his mind’s images into hers. Lavanyia’s eyes grew round, then swollen with tears. They streamed down her smooth cheeks. Sungui showed her everything that had happened at Uurz, the battle of sorcerers, the salting, the devouring, the exodus. Yet a mere touch and a handful of visions could not instill the depth of the enlightenment that had transformed the Eaters of Zyung.
Lavanyia fell to her knees on the wet sand. Sungui released her hand.
The last of the High Seraphim glared at Sungui with red rage on her face. “You did this! It’s what you’ve wanted all along! Your hidden ceremonies, your lessons of memory! I should have salted you long ago. You are a traitor. Nothing more!”
“Then so are all of us,” said Sungui. “Save you and the three hundred who chose salt instead of revolution.”
“So this is the choice that I must make?”
“It is,” said Sungui. “But not yet.” He grabbed her shoulders and helped her to her feet. She was too weak to resist.
“I would have you walk beside us,” he said. “Beside me. Hear my words before you decide.”
Lavanyia turned away from him, her eyes scanning the rows of ships. How she must feel as the last of her kind, he could only imagine. Yet more than ever he could imagine her feelings. They poured in waves from her eyes and her skin. Sungui had never sensed another’s emotions so deeply. This was another of Iardu’s gifts, or another facet of the same gift.
His salted heart had taught them empathy.
“Speak,” said Lavanyia, her eyes on the blue-green horizon of the sea. She squinted against the sun’s brightness.
Sungui explained to her the illumination of the Eaters. The transfiguration of the Seraphim that had altered their immortal selves. The blending of Zyung’s and Iardu’s dreams. The vision of a Reborn Empire without slaves, tyranny, or conquest. The rise of a new order where free will could flourish and Men could determine their own destinies under the guidance of the New Seraphim. They would not shatter Zyung’s empire and abandon his dream. They would improve it, perfect it, replace it with a greater dream, one that served humanity far better than the old one.
Lavanyia listened in silence, and the morning shadows grew smaller.
“As we were Diminished by Zyung, so was Zyung diminished by his creation,” Sungui said. “The greater his empire grew, the more it defined him. He was the Conqueror, the Almighty, the High Lord Celestial. Yet he built a vision so powerful that it trapped him within itself. Still the core of his wisdom yearned for what it could no longer have. He longed for change. Yet he could not change, or he would sacrifice everything he had built. He was the Living Empire.”
Lavanyia turned to face Sungui. “Are you saying that Zyung wanted this to happen?”
Sungui shrugged. “What happens to all empires eventually? Like earthbound trees they rise, grow strong and flourish, but eventually they grow brittle, and entropy claims them like a slow rot. They fall into chaos, which brings war and suffering and the death of peace. All of those terrible things that Zyung built his Living Empire to banish. I believe he knew that his great order must change to survive, as change is the only constant of this universe. Yet how could he change what was an extension of himself, when he was unable to change himself?”
“How can you know all of this?” Lavanyia asked.
“Zyung knew I was going to betray him,” said Sungui. “He told me this himself. For centuries he had known about Those Who Remember, and he knew that I led their rites. He could have destroyed me at any time, yet he did not. He told me that the seed of doubt growing in my heart was the test of his Great Idea. He challenged me to see that his wisdom was true. Now, when I feel the last glimmering of his salt inside me, I believe he knew that I would be the one to transform his dream in a way that he could not. I believe he saw at last the wisdom of Iardu’s own dream, and regretted that he had not seen it long ago. I believe all of this was meant to happen, Lavanyia. I ask you to believe these things as well.”
Lavanyia’s thoughts were her own. She brushed the windblown hair back from her eyes.
“I can never be one of you,” she said, voice heavy with regret. “For I did not taste his essence with you. I will remain a stranger to this new dream.”
Sungui touched Lavanyia’s cheek lightly, raised her face to meet his own. “You need not remain so,” he said. “If I share my enlightenment with you, if I reshape your heart into that of a New Seraphim, will you come with me across the Outer Sea? If I do this thing, will you help me foster this Age of Illumination?”
Lavanyia regarded Sungui now with fresh eyes. He remained a mystery to her, now more than ever, and he knew that she longed to understand that mystery. Her curiosity was irresistible. She nodded. He smiled.
Sungui drew the black dagger from his inner sleeve. It was the same one that had transfixed poor Mahaavar the Ear not so very long ago. Its edge, tempered by sorcery, was as sharp as any metal could be.
He raised his left hand, fingers spread, holding the dagger in his right fist. Sunlight flashed on the dark blade as it sliced through the smallest finger of his hand. He severed it cleanly at the middle joint. The finger fell in a thin trail of crimson, yet when it landed upon the sand it was no longer flesh and blood.
Sheathing the dagger, Sungui bent and picked up the nugget of salt that had been part of his living body. Instead of blood it dribbled a few loose grains.
“Eat of my salt, Lavanyia,” he asked.
She accepted the white nugget from his open palm and raised it to her lips without a word. She paused for only a moment’s reflection, then dropped it into her mouth like a grape. She chewed it and the light of wisdom blazed from her eyes.
Sungui ignored the pain of his hand. He conjured a flame to burn the small wound until it closed. The stump of the half-finger was pink and raw, but it would heal.
Lavanyia fell forward, and he caught her. She wept softly, her arms clasped about his neck. They stood this way as seabirds warbled glorious melodies overhead.
White surf washed again and again over the sandy beach.
At last Lavanyia lifted her face close to his and breathed a single word.
“Sungui…”
Their lips met, and the heat of understanding passed between them. Sungui’s body altered spontaneously, its male and female aspects advancing and receding upon Lavanyia like the waves upon the warm sand.
There was no more salt but that which lay in the sea.