‘Shouldn’t you be asking someone who believes this rubbish?’
Frey shifted on the step and settled himself again. ‘You’re educated, ’ he said, with slightly forced offhandedness. ‘You know how to put things.’
‘That’s dangerously close to a compliment, Frey,’ Crake observed.
‘Yeah, well. Don’t let it go to your head. And it’s Captain Frey to you.’
Crake performed a half-arsed salute and slapped his knees. ‘Well, then. What do you know?’
‘I know some things. I’ve heard of the Prophet-King and how they put all his crazy pronouncements in a book after he went mad, except they think he was touched by some divine being or something. And how they all say they can solve your problems, just a small donation required. But I never was that bothered. None of it seemed to make much sense. Like some street scam that got out of control, you know? Like the thing with the three cups and the ball and no matter what you do, you never win. Except with this, half the country plays it and they never get that it’s rigged.’ He snorted. ‘Nobody knows my future.’
‘Fair enough.’ Crake cleared his throat and thought for a moment. When he spoke it was as a teacher, crisp and to the point. ‘The basic premise of their belief posits the existence of a single entity called the Allsoul. It’s not a god in the sense of the old religions they wiped out, more like a sentient, organic machine. Its processes can be seen in the movement of wind and water, the behaviour of animals, the eruption of volcanoes and the formation of clouds. In short, they believe our planet is alive, and intelligent. In fact, vastly more intelligent than we can comprehend.’
‘Okaaay . . .’ Frey said uncertainly.
‘The Awakeners think that the Allsoul can be understood by interpreting signs. Through the flights of birds, the pattern of fallen sticks, the swirl of blood in milk, the mind of the planet may be known. They also use rituals and minor sacrifices to communicate with the Allsoul, to beg its favour. Disease can be cured, disaster averted, success in business assured.’
‘So let me get this straight,’ Frey said, holding up his hand. ‘They ask a question, they . . . release some birds, say. And the way the birds fly, what direction they go, that’s the planet talking to them. The Allsoul?’
‘When you strip out all the mumbo-jumbo, yes, that’s exactly it.’
‘And you say it doesn’t work?’
‘Ah!’ said Crake scornfully, holding up a finger. ‘That’s the clever part. They’ve got it covered. Margin for human error, you see. Their understanding of the Allsoul is imperfect. Human minds aren’t yet capable of comprehending it. You can ask, but the Allsoul might refuse. You can predict, but the predictions are so vague they’ll come true more often than not. The Allsoul’s schemes are so massive that the death of your son or the destruction of your village can be explained away as part of a grand plan that you’re just too small to see.’ He gave a bitter chuckle. ‘They’ve got all the angles figured out.’
‘You really hate them, don’t you?’ Frey said, surprised at the tone in his companion’s voice. ‘I mean, you really hate them.’
Crake clammed up, aware that he’d let himself get out of control. He gave Frey a quick, tense smile. ‘It’s only fair,’ he said. ‘They hated me first.’
They strolled up the hill from Olden Square, along a tree-lined avenue that led towards the wealthier districts of Goldenside and Kingsway. Passenger craft flew overhead and motorised carriages puttered by. There were fine dresses in the windows of the shops, displays of elaborate toys and sweetmeats. As they climbed higher they began to catch glimpses of Lake Elmen through the forested slopes to the west, vast as an inland ocean. All around, stretching into the distance as far as the eye could see, were the dark green pines and dramatic cliffs of the Forest of Aulen.
