The Blackgod

She did not stand but sat a horse, and she understood that it was her mare, her spirit. Dust devils birthed and died about them, danced like the ladies of the court, stunned into a simulacrum of carefree behavior by Nende'ng and wine, seeking only the sensation of movement and the promise of oblivion.

Across the vast courtyard—for such it was, she understood suddenly—a shadow man came walking. She saw him enter from a hall on the horizon, as tall as the great Water Temple, stalking toward her, lightning pattering upon his head and shoulders like fiery rain. From most of these obvious attacks he did not flinch, and she watched him approach in growing terror that even the nature of the otherworld could not entirely suppress. Beneath her, the mare whickered, stamped, and rolled her eyes. Hooves rang like bells on the polished marble.

Suddenly the sky sleeted white, however, a bright, furious light that blinded her, stilled the wind, and rocked the earth the mare stood upon. When the blaze faded, she saw only the giant's court, darker than before. The hulking shadow giant was gone. Above, she thought she saw vast wings vanish amongst the lofty unlit regions of the roof-sky.

“I had hoped to impress you,” a voice sighed from nearby, breaking the new stillness. “Now I am fortunate merely to be alive.”

She peered toward the voice. It was Shadow Man, but grown much smaller. Smaller than she, even, and curled into a ball like a fist.

“Who are you?”

“I am the gaan, the one who sent Moss and Chuuzek to find you.”

Hezhi opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly went on.

“I know you have been told I am your enemy. I know it must seem that way to you. But you have many enemies, Hezhi, and only a few who love you.”

“You do not love me,” Hezhi snapped scornfully.

“No. But I know who does. I know he is coming. I can take you to him.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your old teacher, Ghan.” The shadow paused and clucked. “Gaan—Ghan. Have you ever noticed that?”

“Ghan is in Nhol,” she snapped, ignoring his linguistic observation. “I can never go there again.”

“Both of those statements are untrue,” the Shadow Man contradicted. “They are both lies, though you know not why you tell them. Ghan is coming here. Your father has sent him to make you understand.”

“Ghan sent me from Nhol in the first place,” Hezhi whispered, feehng as if she would fall from the mare. “He would not come to get me back.”

“I know what I know. Even Ghan can come to understand he was wrong. Hezhi, listen to me. Before, the River—your ancestor—was asleep. I do not know what transpired between you, exactly, but I know that it frightened you. Imagine him as a great creature, who, while asleep, did not recognize even his own daughter. In that state, he may have frightened you, and you would have been right to worry, perhaps even to flee him. But he knows you now. He feels remorse. Hezhi, you are the most important child he has ever produced. Karak knows that, that's why he plots with Perkar. Karak and Perkar will do you harm, Princess, though I cannot see of what sort.”

“Perkar is my friend.”

“Oh, no, Princess, he is not. Neither is the Blackgod. It was he who attacked me just now.”

“So you say. And even if he did, that would only mean he was helping me. Before you were a monster filling the horizon. Now you are a somewhat pitiful thing.”

“As I said before, I only endeavored to impress you. Even the greatest gaan is no match for a god like Karak, and Karak and all his brethren are no match for the Changeling. You are the Changeling's daughter, Hezhi, and they are no match for you, either, not if you don't want them to be. This tinkering about with little spirits and little victories—that is what I do, what I am capable of. You are destined to change the face of the world, not dirty yourself with such paltry forces.”

“What do you propose I do?” Hezhi snapped, making no effort to hide her irritation.

“Separate yourself from those you ride with. Find Moss and Chuuzek, who follow you. They will take you to Ghan. He will explain to your satisfaction the rest.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Listen to me,” the shadow hissed, rising up, growing to Human size as it did so.

Hezhi clapped the flanks of her mount, and the mare leapt forward, hooves flashing. Shadow Man leapt back, kept leaping back, growing more distant in a series of bounds that eventually carried him beyond the horizon and out of the hall. His voice, however, stayed near.

“You must learn who your friends really are. You have been mistaken about such things before,” he said. “Watch Perkar. Especially watch the Crow God.”

Then the plain went dark, as if it were a room in which all of the candles had been blown out. Real sleep swallowed her up, and no more dreams came until dawn.

PERKAR sat gazing at the fire, knowing he should feel elated, wondering why he did not. He felt weary— unbelievably weary, considering that he had only been awake for half a day at best—and yet the thought of sleep unaccountably sickened him.

“They say there is a man at this fire in need of some wine,” a soft voice asserted from just behind him. It was Raincaster, returned from rubbing down the horses for the night. Yuu'han was only a score of steps behind him, bearing a wineskin.

“I should have helped you with the horses,” Perkar murmured. “I feel well enough.”

“You don't look well enough,” Raincaster said. ”And it insults a horse to treat her halfheartedly.”

“I would not have been half—”

“Raincaster meant no insult,” Yuu'han intervened. “You are not as strong yet as you would like to think, that is all. Have some wine.” He proffered the skin.

Perkar sighed. “Very well. I'm sorry, Raincaster.”

Raincaster wiped his forehead, a Mang gesture that dismissed all blame. “You have been fighting for your life against demons,” he reminded everyone. “No reason to think such an experience would sweeten your mood.”

Perkar returned the smile, though he did not feel like doing so. He liked Raincaster. He liked Yuu'han, as well, but with Yuu'han there was always the sense that his cordiality to Perkar arose out of duty—duty to Brother Horse and the responsibilities of hospitality. Raincaster seemed to genuinely like him—and to have an interest in the ways of the Cattle People. “Perhaps I do need some wine,” he said, by way of further, though indirect, apology. Perkar accepted the proffered skin, tilting it back and catching a mouthful of its contents—though with some misgivings. He quickly discovered his misgivings were justified; the wine was kbena, a strong drink made from some sort of desert plant, sweet and tainted by an unpleasant aftertaste that reminded Perkar of rotten pears. It was certainly nothing at all like woti, the prized drink of warriors in his home country—save that it did warm his belly. He also knew from experience that the first mouthful was the worst, and so quickly swallowed another before passing the skin on to Raincaster. The three of them drank in silence for a while, watching the Fire Goddess consume withered juniper scraps. The night sky lay heavy above, revealing no light.

Perkar quickly realized that he did not want to get drunk any more than he wanted to sleep. The fifth time the skin came around, he shook his head and passed it on. Yuu'han shrugged and took a long draft.

The wine stirred something in Perkar, something he might ordinarily not have brought up.

“I know it was hard for you,” he mumbled, addressing both of the Mang.

Yuu'han nodded, understanding him and already accepting the implied thanks, but Raincaster's expression demanded that Perkar express himself more fully.

“To leave your kin to help us. With the war and everything.” Even a mere five drinks of the potent kbena was enough to thicken his tongue and make him feel more stupid than usual. He wished for eloquence rather than the gruff, clumsy, apologetic statement he had just uttered—but, as usual, it was too late to correct.

Raincaster shrugged, apprehending the spirit of the comment. “Our uncle is right, and the others are wrong. Anyway, I've never cared much for those Four Spruces People. They've always had delusions of grandeur.”

Yuu'han's somewhat bleak expression softened at that. “Remember Mane Gatherer?” he said.