creatures of coldness and stone…
Sud-Akwith, Lord of the Northlands,
faced with defeat, all despairing,
praying to Firelord the Master,
dreamed he should rise from his night-rest,
ride from his camp in the dark-hour,
ride to the place of fire-leaping,
hearing the voices of demons
tempting him with silky voices,
‘Halt here, receive wealth and honour.’
‘Stay here, receive love of women.’
‘Wait, and receive life forever.’
Sud-Akwith saying in answer,
‘What wiliest thou, Lord of the Fire?’
Firelord, in answer, heard calling,
‘Strike where stone burns as thy need burns,
strike where the flame burns most hotly.
Sud-Akwith, striking with spearpoint,
deep into fire-rock still flowing,
splashing his face with the fire-rock,
branding his face with the fire-mark,
Seeing the fire-rock fall open,
there a sword lying, hand-ready,
hearing the call of the Firelord,
‘Carry this blade in my honour
that for such time you prevail…’
Sud-Akwith, Lord of the Northlands,
conquering all who oppose him,
coming to power and glory,
coming to old-years and pride …
Then, comes the son of Sud-Akwith,
kneeling before his old father,
beautiful Widon the Golden,
praying the Lord be more humble,
praying the King speak of Firelord,
saying his father had conquered
all by the aid of the Firelord,
not by the King’s strength alone…
Then see Sud-Akwith in anger
striking his son down before him,
saying his own arm had conquered,
calling his courtiers to him,
going with men and with horses,
far to that chasm of darkness
men call the Abyss of Souls …
standing in pride at the chasm,
flinging the sword into darkness,
swearing he would rule without it,
only to fall as it fell,
all at once, cold as though long-dead,
gone from his forehead the fire sign,
gone from his body the fire …
Gone, also, Widon the Golden,
into the north with his people,
gone the wide realm of Sud-Akwith,
faded and scattered by time.
Gone are the towers and treasures,
vanished his line and his glory,
into the chasm of darkness,
into the Abyss of Souls …
Yet, from that chasm, long after,
one came out bearing the fire-sword,
bringing the sword of Sud-Akwith
into the world once again …
Does not a time come upon us
when the great Firelord may call us
up once again to his service?
Once more to conquer? To battle?
Once more to honour his name?
So, he who searches may find it.
So, he who finds it may hold it.
So, he who holds it may conquer.
Hear, as we heard in our dreaming,
Medlo, the scion of Rhees.
CHAPTER FOUR
JAER
Years 1158-1163
As for Jaer, the boy went on growing – the girl went on growing. Both of them, at once and interchangeably. The only good thing that could be said for it was that there were no other children around to confuse the issue or complicate Jaer’s perception of things. Insofar as Jaer was concerned, the world was like this, with bodies that were one way one day and another way another day, puckered first inward and then outward in a particular place, otherwise not much different, changing for no known reason at no foreseeable interval, though always while Jaer slept.
Ephraim and Nathan watched this growing with carefully concealed wonder. There were long night hours during which they would sit before the fire with the wind howling around the tower ledges saying to one another, ‘Do you think perhaps …’ or ‘Maybe the reason is …, or ‘Let us consider the implications of… By the time Jaer had weathered ten years, all the implications had been considered down to the last possible inference and reason had been piled upon reason to no avail. They understood no-more than they had understood in the beginning, and their lack of understanding was complicated by an approaching need to explain to Jaer that he/she was not, indeed, the norm in a world which would have expelled him, her at once if it had had the least opportunity.
‘If Jaer could only control it,’ Ephraim complained for the thousandth time. ‘If Jaer could determine when it would happen. What will he do, going to bed as a man, a hostler, a member of a caravan, only to wake in the body of a dancing girl? The dangers? The problems? The explanations?’
‘There could be no explanations. Who would believe it? Who would accept it? In this world of Gahlians, Separation, Gates and Seals, who would not reach at once for a knife or bludgeon …’
‘But,’ Ephraim continued, ‘there is still some world outside the Separated world. Just because you and I have spent much of our old lives inside it doesn’t mean that there isn’t something of the other world still there. If Jaer can get out, past the Seal Bearers and the black-robed minions, and the Temples, and the Separated villages, and the enclaves…’
‘If Jaer could get down the canyon, past the falls, by all the guard towers and the patrols with their wagons, and past every barrier between here and Orena (assuming that Orena is still there), Jaer would still be Jaer and have the same problem.’
‘Our people would accept him, Nathan. You know they would.’
Nathan harumphed. ‘Better he stays here. With us.’
Ephraim shook his head sadly. They had spoken of this so many times before. ‘We’re old, Nathan. We’re so old that the winds of age echo along our ribs and pick at our eye sockets. We could be gone tomorrow. A chill, say, or a little slip on the cliff side. I feel as fragile as a dried flower. I rattle a little in the moving air, but I’m only coherent dust-a shape of what once was. My essence is going.’
‘You’ve been saying that your essence was going for the last twenty years.’
‘Well, my fragrance has gone. I’m redolent of decay.’
‘I’ve heard that before, too.’
‘The point is,’ said Ephraim with some asperity, ‘that Jaer can’t stay here once we’re gone. Not for the love of thee or of me or the memory of his mother or the hope of a patrimony from some unknown source. Jaer could not stay forever alone. Jaer will go. We must be able to feel that we have helped him to survive when that happens. That’s all.’
So, for the moment, they stopped discussing it and began to plan ways in which Jaer might survive. They
