The Blackgod

the persistent nagging feeling that power was somehow slipping past him, that his reach was not what an emperor's should be.

“I'm sorry, Lord,” the ghoul amended, “but I believe it to be the case. The priesthood has labored for centuries to check your power in a thousand subtle ways. Even your ghosts are kept chained.”

“You mentioned this before. What do you mean?”

The ghoul suddenly began shivering, power tightening around him like a cocoon, and She'lu raised his hands reflexively. But no thrust of potence came, no claws stretched to strike at his heart. Instead, the ghoul spoke again, but in a very different voice. Not merely in timbre and intonation; the very language was different, the ancient tongue of his ancestors.

“Thou knowest this be the truth, Chakunge my descendant. We are trapped in the tombs, starved to nothing, until such time as we amuse them. Then they may take us out, command us to speak, to sing, to blaspheme. We are their library, their drama stage. They play with us, grandson of my grandsons.”

“What?” She'lu sputtered. “What?”

“They keep us there, in their temple. The Chakunge himself, the First Emperor, they keep on a leash like a dog!”

She'lu knew that this was no trick; he could see the soul image, and it was not the ghoul's. Though he could not tell who it was, this was certainly one of his ancestors. His skin crawled like a bed of ants.

“Who are you, Lord?” he asked.

“I am Lengnata, fourth to the throne of the Nas Dynasty. Your ancestor.”

“The First Emperor is in chains?”

“As I said. You, too, will be chained when you die. Only a few escape, and them the priests destroy. I myself departed only in the heart of this ghoul, and now I am slave to him. But it is better, better. For through the ghoul, I see the River has a plan to destroy the priesthood, and that is good.”

“Lord Ancestor, I…” But the ghoul was the ghoul again.

“Pardon, my lord, but I have only recently entered into this power of mine. My control over it is growing but still imperfect.”

“You admit your weakness to me?”

“If I had no weakness, I would not beg for your aid. I was made to go where the River cannot go, Lord, and where the power of his true children thus cannot go. I cannot bear his strength as you can, cannot become him as Hezhi can; he has given me the strength to find my power as I go along, that is all. But to go where Hezhi is, I need help. Your help.”

“If this is all true …” He grimaced. “I must speak to Nyas.”

The ghoul shook his head. “My lord, the Ahw'en and the Jik seek for me everywhere now. I have killed many of them and invaded their temple. I have their secrets and I have stolen one of your ancestors back from them. I have seen the Chakunge of our most sacred legends on a leash like a dog. I have power, but the priesthood can kill me. If you do not ally yourself with me, help me, all will be lost. All And it must be now, quickly—this night.”

“Why did you not approach me sooner?”

“I did not know. We are taught that the emperor and the priesthood are warp and weft in the same cloth. Only as a ghoul have I found the truth.”

She'lu drew a deep breath. This was very sudden, but if it were true, if Hezhi still lived, if she could bring back the real power and glory of the throne… if even an emperor must eventually suffer a fate like that of the Blessed, a fate he believed he had escaped…

“What do you want of me?”

The ghoul knelt again. “A fast ship, to sail up-River. Horsemen and swordsmen, as many as you can spare. But most, most of all, I need the librarian from the archives.”

“Ghan? The old man?”

“He knows where Hezhi is. I know he does.”

“How do you know this?”

“I just feel it, Lord. They were very close, he and your daughter. He helped her escape, though none knew that but me. He knows where she has gone.”

“You may have him, then. And the ship, thirty mounted men, fifty foot. Will this suffice?”

“That will suffice,” the ghoul answered, and She'lu could hear the surge of victory in the voice.

“But tell me,” She'lu asked. “Why drag this old man out into the desert? We can torture the information from him, or merely snatch it from his brain.”

The ghoul smiled thinly. “I considered that. In fact, I could swallow his soul and keep it with me, open his memories like a book. Three things stop me: first, I believe he may be canny enough to prevent it somehow; you would almost certainly never torture him, for he would kill himself in some clever way rather than be the instrument of Hezhi's capture. The second is that I believe he will be wiser alive. Those I bind to me lose much of their essence, their ability to think. They are, really, just parts of me. This Ghan is worth ten counselors if he is on your side.”

“Three reasons?”

“Hezhi loves him and hates me. If Ghan is with me, she will trust us.”

“But you say the librarian helped her escape. You were a Jik at the time. Why should he trust you?”

“He never knew my identity. Still, he will be suspicious, and so a series of lies must be told him…”

She Tu scrunched forward, forgetting for the moment that he was an emperor and this man a ghoul. Something was happening, something that might make his reign a memorable one. He could not launch an assault on the Water Temple; such had been tried in the past and only resulted in the worst sort of bloodshed. But if this creature was right, he could free not only the River but himself. Of course, he would make some provision for his own interests; he could not trust this stranger—all the more reason to surround him with eighty of his handpicked men. That would be a thousand times better than having him skulking about the palace. Could he keep the priesthood from finding out? Maybe.

But in the palace, at least in his own section of it, the emperor was supreme.

Yes. A barge could be spared, and men. These were cheap; and if the expedition failed, he would be no worse off than before. But if it succeeded…

He was aware that the promise of majesty he felt was only partly his own, that most of it surged into him from the River. The god had never, in his memory, been this strong or wakeful. Some of his ancestors might have been glad of that, happier to rule without the intervention of the divine, but She'lu did not share their sentiments. He would see Nhol strong again. Perhaps, if all went well, he would see the priesthood spitted on stakes for his pleasure. He smiled then at the ghoul.

“Come with me. Tell me what else you require.”

PART TWO

UPSTREAM PASSAGES

XVII Kinship

TSEM roared and swung a stool at one of the swordsmen, caught the bright edge of slicing metal on the wood. The sword snapped with a metallic cry and the Mang echoed it as the half Giant's makeshift weapon thudded into his chest. He joined his fellow on the floor of the yekt, wheezing.

For an instant there was calm, in which Hezhi desperately tried to assess the situation.

“Princess!” Tsem growled, glancing toward her, but only for an instant, for another warrior stood in the yekt, menacing them. Ngangata, his face spattered with blood, held a throwing axe in each hand, his expression that of a caged predator, driven to fury. All told, three Mang lay on the floor, two unmoving, one clutching his chest and grimly working to regain an upright stance. A fourth warrior stood just inside the doorway of the yekt, and Hezhi could see several more just outside. She recognized two of them; the one whom Tsem had just battered with the stool was Chuuzek, the surly tribesman who had met her the day before; one of the men outside was his companion, Moss.

The interior of the yekt was in total disarray; only Perkar seemed unchanged, still pale with unnatural sleep.

“Tsem, what is happening?”