an angry creature but a smart one; his blind rage was his way of coping with a terrible situation. Mangan’s kind, I had been told, were life-loving forest dwellers who on their native world had lived in peace and harmony with others. That was then; now Mangan was truly a vicious devil.
But that is what this ship did to people; it marred their souls.
As it had done to Sai-ias.
I had, in all truth, become fond indeed of Sai-ias. She was a gentle beast, and a thoughtful one. It touched me to see how she became involved in the lives of others; she knew each sentient on the ship by name and knew the names of their planets too, and could remember all the names of their lost loved ones. She remembered I had lost a wife called Malisha and a daughter called Sharil; I had only told her once but she never forgot.
But her soul was still tainted; for Sai-ias’s way of surviving was a form of complicity. She made the ship run smoothly; and hence the Ka’un had an easier time. She taught the ways of acceptance; and thus the Ka’un’s slaves were docile, and easier to handle. She was the prisoner who helps her own gaolers; I had always despised that type.
And so, after learning the scale of Sai-ias’s treachery in collaborating with the despotic Kindred, I refused to talk to her, or deal with her in any way. Instead I spent my time alone, climbing the mountain paths, swimming the lake, and exploring the ship. I refused to participate in their godsforsaken Rhythm of Days; I wanted to keep my mind pure, and my body honed.
And then one day, I swam to the Tower as I always did, at least once a day. And once I was in sight of the island’s shore the winds whipped up, as they always did. One time I had swum onwards and touched the force shield walls for myself. But the walls of force could not be penetrated of course; and my presence in such proximity had caused a great storm that had vexed the others hugely; so it seemed futile to keep attempting it.
So today, I merely trod water, and I stared at the Tower where dwelled my enemies; then I heard the sound of wings above me and I looked up.
And Cuzco swept downwards and caught me in his claws. I did not struggle, I let him carry me. He loosened his grip and I scrambled free and clambered up on to his back.
“Turd-for-brains,” said Cuzco amiably.
“Vile and ugly orange freak,” I informed him.
I enjoyed these flights; Cuzco soared up to the sky, almost touching it, then soared down, and made me dizzy with his speed.
Then he hovered as low as he could above the Tower. I saw the shape of the gardens around it; the shrubs on the craggy rock. The Tower was huge; larger than many cities. It was so near, and yet so untouchable.
“Watch,” said Cuzco, and he released the boulders in his rear claws and they dropped down out of the sky and they
Bounced.
Rattling like pebbles on a roof-yet there was no roof, just air-before sliding off in a downwards arc and splashing into the sea.
“Force shield goes all around,” I said.
“No way in,” agreed Cuzco.
“No way to escape,” I agreed.
“I believe, nevertheless,” said Cuzco sombrely, “that I may have found a way to leave this place.”
And my heart raced. “Tell me,” I said.
Sai-ias
It was Day the Third of my nine hundred and eighty-four thousand four hundred and twenty second cycle of the Rhythm of Days, and Sharrock approached me by the lake side.
And for the first time in many cycles, he spoke to me.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“I am.”
“It seems then you thrive,” said Sharrock, “upon the misfortunes of others.”
I made no comment; yet I could not comprehend how he could say such a thing to me.
“I have been planning,” said Sharrock, “how we might escape this wretched vessel.” And he smiled; but it was not a pleasant smile.
“There is no way,” I said.
“So I have concluded,” Sharrock said, grimly.
“Best-”
“-to accept the way things are. Acceptance is all. Yes, I know your lies, Sai-ias. I have also been considering ways to attack the Ka’un.”
“Many have tried and failed.”
“How? Tell me all.”
I sighed. “There is little point. Trust me on this: I have been here for many years. The problem is that we do not know who the Ka’un are, nor how to get at them in the Tower where they dwell.”
“Have you yourself tried?” Sharrock’s tone was taunting; I wondered at his game.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I swam across many years ago. The way was blocked. Cuzco attempted to storm it with a flock of aerials, that did not succeed. It cannot be done.”
“Indeed, that tallies with all I know and have been advised,” said Sharrock, his mood strangely buoyant.
“So what is it?” I asked. “Why are you speaking to me now?”
“Oh, there is news,” Sharrock said. And there was a smug look in his eyes; I feared the worst.
“What is it?”
“Cuzco,” he told me, “has issued a challenge to Djamrock.”
The news shocked me. “What cause?”
“No cause. They fight at dawn.”
And Sharrock’s features were lit with elation; for he knew already that my calm and ordered equilibrium was about to be destroyed.
Two giant sentients were at war with each other, with no valid cause.
Thus, bloody and pointless anarchy had returned to our world.
We were in our cabin, the night before the combat. Fray was sombre; Lirilla was distressed; Doro was a pool of turbulent water; Quipu was appalled at what was occurring, just as I was. And Cuzco himself was in arrogant and bombastic mood.
“On my planet, before we became gods to the other sentient species, we were hunted,” said Cuzco, with a pride that repelled me. “The biped Mahonosi feared us and slew us. The four-legged Karal feared us, and slew us. We were born in blood, we fought each living day. And we survived. And we evolved. And we grew mightier and mightier.”
“Evolved? From idiot, into total fucking idiot?” snapped Quipu One.
“Good point,” said Quipu Two.
“Where is it decreed,” said Cuzco, “that we should not fight?”
“This creature is so arrogant!” said Quipu Three.
“Such duels are foolish, and dangerous,” I told Cuzco, “They serve no purpose, and damage us all!”
“Those words are true,” said Quipu Four, and his fifth and first heads nodded in agreement.
Cuzco snorted his contempt at me, and at the bobbing-headed agreeing-with-himselves Quipus.
“I need,” roared Cuzco, “to taste blood and feel fear. Without that, I do not-”
“YOU CANNOT DO THIS!” I screamed at Cuzco, and they all stared at me, for I do not usually scream.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Cuzco said, in tones of utter scorn.
“Why? Because I’m not a blood-crazed warrior?”
“War is in my soul. It defines me.”
“War is a form of madness,” I told him. “Do not give in to it.”
“Oh let him do what he likes,” said Quipu One, and his other heads hissed.
“It’shisfuneral,” Doro taunted.
Lirilla howled; not a song, a howl. I had never heard such a noise from her before; it sent a shudder down my central spine.
Fray brooded, silent, conflicted; she knew the joy of war too, but this was all too much for her.
