

# Nothing Darker Than the Light

Volume three

### THE FIELD OF PEACE

### Philip Matthews

Copyright Philip Matthews 2014

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 9781311987723

# Part One: Ka-Ra

Chapter One

'Close that curtain!'

Van, the twenty-third of that name, the one hundred and thirty-sixth of the line of the dynasty of the Ta-Shan, the nine hundred and forty-fifth sovereign of the world of the present Age – which is the Seventh Age of Asta, the Old Mother, the Hidden, the Unmollified, the Possessor of All Gifts, the Begrudger of Man; which is the Fourth Aeon of the Third Cycle or Month of Chorsa, the Comforter, the Source of Human Gifts, the Instructress, the Intercessress, the Beloved of Man; which is, as Every Age of the World is, the Hope of Agnanna, the Virgin, the Happiness of Man, the Companion of Man, the Upholder of Man – the Chosen of the Goddess, the Lord of the World, the True Light of Man, the Fount of Justice and Order, Emperor of the Sun, Duke of Ten-Ra, Lord of Sen-Ra, Head of Ka-Ra, the Imperial City, the Jewel of the World, Defender of Faith, Guardian of the Priesthood, Protector of the Temple, Keeper of the Histories, Store of Wisdom, Grand High Lord Commander of all the Imperial Armies, High Lord of the Central Armies, Lord of the Central Army, Chief-Commander of the Defenders of the Ka-Ra; the Father of all Man, the Provider of the World, the protector of Human Happiness, the Great Navigator, the Maker of Boundaries, and Constant Husband,

Van the twenty-third, Emperor, sweltered in the confined heat of the chamber, shouted irritably at his secretary-slave, Hsin.

A wizened yellow head, almost bald, keen-eyed though rheumy, prominent ears, ink mark on left cheek, popped up over a pile of rolls of parchment, looked at all the curtains in the Imperial bed chamber, then peered down the room through the uneven brilliance of the light of many lamps.

'None is open, Father.'

Van, seated on a high armchair at the farther end of the chamber, shook the roll of parchment on his knee as a gesture of intimidation, and pointing, shouted the length of the room:

'That one there. It's not straight.'

Hsin's head disappeared. Muttering, he came out from behind the table, bent-shouldered, and shook his head, mumbling more loudly.

'What are you saying, Hsin?' Van said irritably, looking up from the roll in his lap as though he had been needlessly interrupted.

'I said that that was a different matter, Father.'

'What is a different matter?'

'A curtain being crooked is not the same thing as a curtain being open.'

'Oh, don't be punctilious, Hsin! You know as well as I do that they amount to the same thing.'

Hsin straightened the curtain by giving it a good shake. Then he walked slowly back across the room. With his head bent, he looked as though in deep thought, but in fact it was the product of his deformity.

Van watched him. He struggled with his irritation. The small figure of his slave represented total vulnerability. It always seduced the Emperor.

'You know the night air disagrees with me, Hsin. I will get another chill, and then where will we be? Affairs would fall behind again.'

His slave nodded in a general way.

Before he could get back behind his pile of reports, requests, acknowledgements, and graces, Van tried once more:

'You know strong leadership is needed at a moment like this, Hsin. I must keep my health.'

Hsin paused only at the instant of disappearing behind his table and turned his bent torso slowly. Looking over at his master, his eyes seemed to hover at the top of their sockets, as the eyes of a great and holy saint are reputed to do. But Hsin's eyes did this only because he could not lift his head very high.

Van sighed with pleasure. Now they would talk for a little while, and escape the tedium of all the reports and praises and petitions.

'Hsin, my trusted friend, what is to become of the world?'

The rhetoric of the question was obvious and Hsin had heard it used as an introduction to gossip for nearly twenty years.

'The world, Father, goes its own way when let.'

Now, that will do it.

'You're right, of course, Hsin. The Duke of Bias-Il has made his request again this year for the authority to return to the cultivation of grain. He has made this request every year for the last twelve years. Each year I have pointed out that there is too much grain already in the Southern regions, while we have a shortage of seed oil, which he produces. He claims the right to switch to grain by way of the precedent that grain was once grown there. But, Hsin, it is ten generations since they produced grain. And do you know the reason he gives in justification of his request? The farmers tell him it is excellent land for grains. But I have told him again and again that his island is one of the few places in that quarter of the world where oil seed can be grown with ease on a large scale.

'Do you know what that shows, Hsin? It shows how hard it is to change people, even when it is to their advantage.

'Now, you take Blas-Il. If I let them grow their grain, what would happen? It could only be used as animal feed. There is too much grain in the South already. It's impossible to spare shipping to take it to the North-West regions, where there is a shortage of grain. So what happens? It is used in the South as animal feed and the inhabitants of Bias-Il return to the kind of life they led three hundred years ago. The kind of life, I remind you, which produced rebellion and the destruction of everything there. Do they want that to happen again? Why can't they see the wisdom of the present policy?

'Look how things are now. They get premium prices for their oilseed and their cities grow rich on the production of oil, jars to contain it, and ships to carry it, Everyone is busy and everyone gets well paid for his trouble. Shouldn't they be happy?

'Hsin, if that doesn't make people happy, what will?

'Now, why do they want to go back to growing grain? Yes, that's right – it's what their forefathers did. That's it precisely. They claim they have cultivated grain for – how long was it? Anyway, for some ridiculously long period.'

Hsin interjected here in a smoothly practiced way:

'For four thousand generations, Father. Since the collapse of the Instrument, as they call whatever it was.'

'Yes, Hsin. See what I mean? And ignoring the blasphemy implied in their claim, they must have been barbarian savages ten times over before the Empire took charge of their sorry brutal existence.

'But I'll tell you this, my friend. I know the real reason for their cheek. They're lazy. All those farmers want to do is to sit on their arses and watch their grass grow till it ripens, and then collect their money for the crops. That's what's behind all this bowing and scraping and precedents. All they want to do is get money for nothing for themselves. They couldn't care less about all those millions in the cities who must have work in order to live.'

Van paused and looked down at the roll in his lap.

Hsin, knowing what to do, easily filled the gap this time:

'The farmers suggest that the grain be distributed free in the cities.'

Van's head came shooting up:

'And who'll pay for it?'

'The Imperial Treasury, of course, Father.'

'And where does it get the money from?'

'Taxes, of course, Father.'

'But who'll pay taxes if produce is cheap and no one works or trades?'

'Precisely, Father.'

Van suddenly stared at Hsin. He suspected he had been manoeuvred. An ambiguity in the exchange implied that he was being mocked. He decided to continue, to see if, this time, he could expose the manoeuvre:

'And what could become of everything if no taxes were paid, Hsin?'

'There would be chaos, Father. There would be no Empire.

There would be no Empire. That's it! That's what the slave is playing at. He's subversive.

Now I must catch him out.

'And the world could not exist without the Empire, could it, Hsin.'

'No, father, it could not.'

'You, for one, would starve. Who'd need your services? You're too old and bent to work, you know no practical skill, and you have no child to support you. Now, have you?'

'That is true, Father. Without the Empire, I, for one, would die.'

Van was annoyed. He couldn't shake the slave loose. He seemed to be able to circle his mockery without having to reveal it. The way he echoed his "for one" put a peculiar bias on his answer, as though he himself, the Emperor, was another "for one".

What a strange idea: being Emperor without an Empire to rule.

'Then I would have nothing to rule, Hsin, is that right?'

'That is so, Father. You would have no work either. And therefore no means to support yourself.'

What an infantile notion!

'But I have my estates and titles. I could live on those.'

'Ah, Father, but by what right do you have those lands?'

Van stopped himself from walking into the trap. What a peculiar conversation! The very subject is unthinkable.

'Anyway, Hsin, you and I know that the Empire must exist. It's a divine institution. Without it, there would be no order in the world.'

'That is true, Father.'

'What precisely is true, Hsin?'

'All that you say, Father. You are Emperor by divine right. That is unquestionable.'

'All? Does the Empire maintain order in the world, Hsin?

'Where would we be without Imperial order, Father?'

Van spotted the tautology immediately. Not order but "Imperial order". He implies another kind of order. Now, how do I trip him up here?

'Is there any other kind of order, Hsin?'

'How do you mean, Father?'

The glibness of the response irritated Van and he almost lost his temper. Luckily, he checked himself in time. But he showed some testiness:

'I mean something like the notion of a natural human order, Hsin. You know the theory, I presume. That the Goddess created three orders: the priestly, the sovereign, and the human. Though they are subordinated in a hierarchy, each level retains a degree of necessary autonomy, so that it can be seen to constitute an order.'

'Oh, that. Do you claim an authority distinct from that of the Priesthood, Father?'

Van felt himself fall headlong into this particular trap. He thought quickly.

'There are competences, as you know, Hsin, and authorities which accompany them. The priesthood, for instance, has no say in the practical organisation of the Imperial order, though in principle that authority is not free of priestly control.'

For the first time, Hsin nodded. I am being manoeuvred.

When Van brought his fingers to his lips, Hsin stopped nodding and said in the same bland reasonable tone:

'Perhaps then, Father, the human order could claim competences and authorities on an analogy with those of the Imperial order in relation to the Priesthood.'

What is he after?

'Admitted, Hsin. The human order is not directed with regard to the details of its labour, only to the ends of that labour. In a similar way, the Imperial order is not directed as to the means to the fulfilment of its order, but only to its ends.'

Ends?

'Precisely, Father. You see, I do not question the Imperial order.'

That tautology again. What is he trying to tell me? What is it that he cannot say openly?

'But, Hsin, the Imperium is sovereign with regard to both its means and ends.'

'Of course, Father, but sovereignty is the characteristic of the Imperial order; it is what defines it as an order. As an order among other orders.'

Van waved his hand at this piece of rote logic.

'Surely, Hsin. But that sovereignty commands the human order. That is the characteristic that defines its place in the hierarchy of orders.'

'Of course, Father.'

And Hsin nodded again and looked set to disappear behind the pile of rolls.

It was the gesture of intended movement, the way the slave moved his left arm back towards the hidden area behind his table, that shook Van into a wider consciousness.

Of course! Now I know what he is getting at! That priest!

Van raised his fingers to detain his slave.

'But, Hsin, this characteristic, sovereignty, acts also as a double limit in another area. It limits the Imperial order with reference to the Priestly order, whose characteristic is the wider one of piety. But it also limits the Priestly order with reference to the Imperial order.

'You see, Hsin, the Imperial order and the human order have this in common: they are both worldly orders. The human order is entirely worldly, while the Imperial order is partially worldly. This is what distinguishes them from the Priestly order, which is entirely unworldly. In this context, the Imperial order has total command of the world, while, conversely, the Priestly order has no power in the world, it is an accepted principle that the Priesthood – I mean to say, the Priestly order – can only act in the world through and on the sufferance of the Imperial order.'

Hsin had turned away from his table while Van spoke. Appearing to listen intently, his fingertips pressed together, he walked slowly towards his master, while diverging slightly to his left. By the time the Emperor had finished speaking, he was standing beside another small table, still appearing to listen intently.

'Perhaps, Father,' Hsin said, fingers touching the surface of the table beside a roll. 'While such a context produces an interpretation to the advantage of the Empire, there are other contexts which should be borne in mind. For instance, to return to the earlier distinction between means and ends. While it is universally admitted that sovereignty gives the Empire control of its means and ends, it is further claimed that Imperial ends are always subordinated, in principle, to the Priestly order. In other words, divine ends are prior to sovereign ends.'

'But not in worldly matters!' Van shouted suddenly. Bringing his fist down on the arm of his chair.

Hsin waited until his master had cooled. In the meantime, knowing that the Emperor's attention was diverted by his anger, he sorted through the rolls on the table and extracted one and laid it near at hand.

When his master had finally calmed, Hsin said gently:

'It is not a matter of material affairs, Father. You know that. It is a matter of the principle that the spiritual and the material always coincide. The most obvious example, which is in fact the usual proof of the principle, is the presence of a moral aspect in all ordinary human affairs. The Priesthood, as you also know, has, in principle, competence in moral matters. An area, furthermore, in which the Empire has no competence at all.'

This time, Van did not explode. Instead he lowered his head, whether in resignation or in response to the complexity of the problem was not clear at this stage. He shook a fist in emphasis, thinking what a nuisance this priest had become, and said:

'But, Hsin, I have control of all natural resources. They cannot be commanded by any representative of the Priesthood.'

'Forgive me, Father, but he does not seek to command your resources. He seeks your authority to use them to a moral end. '

Van jerked his head up, glaring at his slave:

'But _all_ the resources of the Empire?'

Hsin shrugged, trying to keep the conversation abstract.

'He says the moral problem warrants it.'

Van abruptly stood up, sending the roll that had been in his lap slithering to the floor. It lay twisted at his feet. A droplet of sweat ran down his nose, irritating his hot skin.

'He asks my permission to take control of my Empire. He asks me – coolly, mind you – if he can be Emperor!'

Hsin grabbed the roll he had sorted out earlier. He went closer to his master.

'No! Father, don't jump to conclusions like that! You must think this out.'

Seeing the roll in his slave's hand, Van waved him away:

'I will not even consider such an absurd request.'

Hsin continued towards his master. His lips were dry by now; he knew he was pushing his Emperor too close to one of his famous wilful fits. Sweat beaded his forehead.

'You must, Your Imperial Majesty. The priest has a case. If he goes to Il-La, he could well get not only their support but also their interest. Can't you see that?'

Van fought to control himself by thinking of Little Ki. It worked. His rage was diverted into a menacing lust.

The slave, of course, was right. Behind all the bluster and ridiculous logic, the priest was, at least on his own arguments, right.

But he would not let the priest present his arguments in person. At least not until the Imperium had its own case to uphold the prerogative.

So Van waved his hands airily:

'Let him go to the Priesthood. They will see that his claims are absurd, as I do. They've no interest, Hsin, in upsetting the general order of things, especially now. They know things are bad enough without making them worse.'

Hsin was now facing his master:

'You misunderstand me, Father. It is not a question of whether the Priesthood can choose to ignore him. They would have to accept his case in principle. They might not like to take the matter up – I doubt if they even want to hear about it – but they will have to make representations here. You know what will happen then, don't you? The whole matter will have to be thrashed out in public. That will help nobody.' Hsin paused, then said: 'You had better see him this evening, Father.'

Van assumed his Imperial persona:

'I will not see him!' Then dropped down: 'And that's that, Little Hsin. Send the Chamberlain in his best robes to him and tell him to make a written presentation, detailing his observations and listing his recommendations. I will then study this and give him my considered opinion on the matter.'

Van suddenly swung on his slave and bent to come level with his face: 'I will not be manoeuvred by this upstart, do you hear me?'

Hsin heard the part of this threat that was intended for him. He was known as the Manoeuvrer by many in the Keep. Yet he withstood the barrage of hot air and spittle. He was firm, though he did not like being this firm with his master. It threatened to show up in an unfair way the peculiar weakness of a ruler whose Will is said to be the very source of all order in the world.

Emperors, at least, are not infallible.

'We have told him that six times already, Father.'

'Then tell him six times again! Until I have such a report I will not even entertain the idea of seeing him. And that's that, Hsin.'

Now the slave waved the roll.

'This constitutes a report, Father.'

'Who do you serve, slave?' Van was back to making threatening remarks.

Hsin sighed inwardly:

'I serve you, Father. As I always do. The priest insists that he has made the report you request and has listed his recommendations.'

'They are not recommendations, Hsin. They are demands. And I will not brook anyone making peremptory demands of me.'

As on a cue, Hsin opened the roll, running his eyes down it rapidly.

'He says, Father, and I quote...'

Van made a grab at the roll, but Hsin pulled it away:

'I've read the thing myself. I know what it says. Give it to me and I'll show you what to do with it. Give it to me, I say.'

When his master advanced, Hsin put it behind his back. Van glared at him, then deliberately struck him sharply across the head:

'Give it to me. I'll end this nonsense now, once and for all.'

Hsin stepped back, a look of dogged, dumb obstinacy on his face. His eyes did seem to float at the top of their sockets, gazing unwaveringly up at his master. A red blotch was appearing on his left temple.

'Give it to me now, Hsin.' Van crouched in front of his slave, spreading his arms out. 'I'll take it from you if you don't. Then you know what'll happen.'

'I cannot, Father. You don't know what you do.' Hsin continued to walk steadily backwards. His courage was fatalistic, resigned to the possible dreadful outcome. Van dived on him before he could dodge away and began to beat his head until he brought a hand up to defend himself. Immediately, Van darted around him and grabbed the roll held in the slave's other hand.

He spun away holding it over his head, laughing jeeringly. Hsin made no attempt to follow him. He stood with lowered eyes, rubbing his face and head, enduring the rising throb behind his eyes.

'Now,' Van shouted to the room, once he had regained his chair, 'I will do what I said I would do.'

The parchment tore raggedly and noisily. Again Hsin heard tearing; then once again.

A despair with unspoken roots entered him. Having little that could be called his own, he felt even that taken from him. He rubbed his head and pitied himself in the way he had done as a child. He curled up inside until he was nothing.

'How should I punish you for your disobedience, slave?' Van shouted across recklessly.

Being nothing now, Hsin ignored the Emperor's threatening taunt. He turned to walk away. The act of turning away intensified his self-pity and he started to cry miserably.

'You cannot be beaten; you are too old and bent and weak. You eat nothing as it is. There's only one thing for it, slave, you'll spend the night with the dogs under the stars. How do you like that, slave?'

Hsin wilfully decided to ignore his master's banter.

He only wants to make up, now that he's got his way.

Let him punish me. There will be, he quite suddenly saw, a truth in the punishment that will hurt his master more than it would hurt him.

So, in the freedom given to him by this insight, he turned and shouted spitefully:

'How will you legislate for fear, Emperor?'

Van's eyes goggled.

There! thought Hsin: the unspeakable! He was intoxicated by the sudden release he experienced. I have spoken the unspeakable.

There was no turning back.

Van screamed for his guards. He glared at his slave while waiting, saying in his most threatening voice:

'Just you wait, slave. Just you wait.'

Then he had to call for his guards again. Then he screamed again, venting his rage on their non-appearance.

At last four guards came through the side door, panting, clutching their spears and shields.

Van addressed them with terrible majesty:

'Where were you when I called the first time?' He hinted at knowledge of dereliction of duty to the Imperial person.

Their leader spoke with a cringing voice:

'Sire, the main doors were locked. We had to...'

Van turned to Hsin and gestured expansively:

'Remove this slave to the dog compound. He is to be placed in the compound.'

The guards showed shock, but Hsin ran forward:

'No, master. Think of what you do.'

'Oh, shut up, Hsin. You had your chance.' He turned to the soldiers, the edge of a smirk on his mouth. 'Take him away. I'll give you authorisation for the dog-master.'

He picked up a piece of the torn parchment. Walking down to his slave's table, he idly read the fragment of writing:

believed that the new star, Ilgem,

destruction.

that the root cause of the

rumours or prophecies as

but a deep seated fear in

woman of your Empire. Therefore,

with, not by countering the

by attacking the beliefs

He wrote on the reverse and handed the piece of parchment to the leader of the guard.

'Now, take him away!

Hsin, seeing that his master was serious after all, tried to get down on his knees, but the soldiers took him under the arms and carried him away.

Van watched the procession to the side door with an expression of triumph.

But once the door closed on Hsin and his escort, Van threw the writing shaft he had used across the room, screaming,

'Why didn't he beg sooner?'

He raged at Hsin for breaking the rules of their twenty-year old game. He should not have tried to provoke him with mockery.

Then he broke down. He raged against himself and the knowledge that the Imperial Will could not be seen to change.

What would he do without his Hsin?

Chapter Two

The armed escort was intended to protect its Lord against attack in a city where armed violence had become commonplace.

It marched on iron-shod armoured boots, four ranks of five in front and four ranks of five behind, with two men on either side of the Lord making up the ninth, middle rank. It marched in step, stamping along with no intention of breaking pace.

In a world where the symbolic colour of armed power was black, where less formal threat skulked in dark corners and operated by hidden means, the yellow armour of this armed band was noteworthy. On this account alone they were instantly recognisable. But there were two other distinguishing features. For one thing, every man was tall. Not as tall as the blue giants of the Old Race, perhaps, but taller than everyone else in the Empire with the exception of the tallest Merura nobles. More, they had _white_ skins and red hair, a very novel feature when first seen on the streets of Ka-Ra, the Imperial capital. Admittedly, white skin of itself was not unheard of, some of the merchants and seamen from the eastern lands bordering the Empire of the Dawn were white, and some even had sandy hair. But the combination of white skin, red hair, and such tall powerful bodies was novel and striking. Taken all together, the sight of their tightly ordered ranks, bright with white, red and yellow, marching through the streets as their Lord went about his business in the city, was an impressive sight.

That they gave way to no one made them a fearsome sight. When that determined regular crash of armoured feet was heard, either in the narrow streets of the factory and dock areas or on the boulevards of the merchant and official quarter, it was a signal to get out of the way, even if it meant driving your cart or carriage in among the pedestrians and shops.

Yet there was spectacle in it. Despite the irritation of flurried movement, the baulking of personal pursuits, once the way had been cleared, everyone did settle down to watch the escort and its Lord march past. Then they came, either around a corner of a narrow street or up a boulevard leading to the Imperial Keep, short yellow plumes, their striking blue eyes staring straight ahead, then the great square shields and complete body armour, all yellow. And the great axes, shaft and metal head painted yellow, only the sharp blade showed the gleam of naked metal. The weapons were a focus of fascination. They were like the axe carried by the Imperial axemen, except that they were proportionally larger. In the hands of the blue-eyed troops they seemed as easily handled as, say, a piece of wood. But when measured subjectively, as though each citizen dreamed of carrying such a weapon and, perhaps, marching in such company, the axes then seemed huge and overwhelmingly menacing.

It had become the habit of onlookers to examine the axe and shield of each trooper, especially of those in the front rank and along the flanks, to see it they were marked in any way. On some days, a dent or a scruffy mark would be spotted on a shield. On others, an axe or two might show the mark of painted wood. One day, it is said, an axe carried traces of blood and hair.

They did not surrender right of way.

However, there was one feature of these tall Northerners which was noted sooner or later by everyone who saw them. It was noted privately but never admitted.

They were fearless.

This realisation produced different reactions. For some, the axemen became objects of deep interest, bordering on a morbid veneration. It was believed that they were blessed men. But for others, the reaction was one of unease. Then the axemen became objects of revulsion, who inspired nausea and dread. It was believed that they were demonic.

There were many theories and beliefs given to explain their lack of fear. At the most enlightened level, among some of the aristocracy who had remained in the city, and more commonly among the yellow-skinned merchants and Chiefs of the bureaucracy, it was viewed as a common phenomenon among newly conquered peoples, that they experienced a form of cultural alienation that made them suicidal. As such, their fighting men were drafted into the Armies, usually forming the core of the regional Army centred on the conquered territories. Hence, all the Armies of the Eastern and Central provinces of the Empire were composed of the black-skinned aborigines of those provinces, conquered twenty generations previously. Through the practice of establishing Armies on their own homelands and turning them into castes, these Armies not only reproduced themselves but also produced a surplus of men, who were then either attached to other armies, usually in the West and Northwest, where new blood was needed, or else were brought together to form a new Army homeland, usually in under-populated areas to the North and Northeast. On this historical precedent, it was suggested that in time this new Northern blood would first of all form the basis of new Armies in the North and Northeast, thus establishing valuable bulwarks against the Empire of the Dawn, and later would supply new blood for the other regional Armies.

But among other aristocrats, especially those who had anything to do with the administration of the Imperium or who held lands or offices in recently conquered territories in the East, the advent of these tall soldiers was viewed with disquiet. With some knowledge of the social structure of the great spread of white-skinned peoples across the North and Northeast, it was recognised that these fighters did not view themselves as soldiers but as warriors. While they could be banded together and made to march up and down in ranks, their use as fighters was dependent upon the individualism and initiative peculiar to these peoples. They were, in other words, men of extremes. They could either slaughter or drink and whore. They had not the patience for the artificial life of the Imperial Army nor the moderate policing duties they normally undertook.

From this point of view, their fearlessness was part of their culture, which, in its barbarity, was necessarily suicidal. As such, it was a threat to the Empire, for to release such manic forces within it would lead to chaos. The proposed solution then was extermination while their numbers were still small. Such new blood as these peoples offered could be supplied by their women, carefully distributed throughout the Empire.

Such a policy had precedent. Any knowledgeable aristocrat could list at least three instances when such a policy had been implemented, though, admittedly, it was hard to find an instance which approached the scale of the present problem. But, even so, it might have to be done, though it would strain the resources of the Empire for a generation or so.

The representatives of the Priesthood in Ka-Ra were not concerned with such questions or problems. Their concern was religious and took two forms. On the one hand, there was the matter of establishing the Priesthood in the new territories of the North, of acquiring sites for Temples in the settlements and more secluded sites for seminary monasteries, and of acquiring grants of land for the upkeep of the priests of these new territories. The procedure here was old and well known, requiring merely the identification of potential sites and convenient lands. Already, survey teams of priests had gone to the North to undertake the search. Then it was only a matter of making formal requests to the Emperor, receiving the deeds and getting down to work.

On the other hand, despite every attempt to prevent it happening, the 'North' had become a Holy Place. It seemed to many, though it was disputed by priests from the South and West that all the rumours concerning an impending destruction of the world and the beginning of a New Age had their origins there. It was not difficult to trace the original source of all these rumours to the northern city of Ka-Bil. Everyone said that. And the frank report of the late High Priest there written just before his death in a riot in the city, clearly showed the beginnings of the whole contagion to lie in the absurd prophecy of an old barbarian priest who had wandered in from the hinterland, obviously mad with a delirium produced by long isolation from mankind.

The problem here lay not in the renewed religious fervour of the Imperial subjects. Such increased religious feeling assisted the Priesthood and could serve to demonstrate both the need for and the effectiveness of its pious work. It lay rather in the tendency of the rumours to discount the Priesthood altogether. It was not a specific tendency, such that it could be called heretical and so treated in the usual manner. The effect of the rumours was to focus all attention, not upon the Goddess or the accepted religious rituals and prayers, but upon an event which was not itself religious. Thus, the problem for the Priesthood was that of combating a religious feeling that did not have a religious focus. It could not be assimilated to accepted religious practices. Worse still, the rumours, while inspiring deep religious feeling, a sense of awe before the divine, for instance, did not of themselves inspire any religious practice at all. The whole work of the Priesthood was therefore made superfluous.

Everyone seemed suspended within, as though each had come to possess a similar deep need, awaiting the one event which would satisfy it.

In fact, it had been said privately by the High Priest of the city, that the whole world was now engaged in one great religious service, that it awaited the sacrifice.

Even so, the problem remained: how to combat these rumours and defend the Priesthood, It had been successful in persuading the Emperor, though it had taken many audiences with his Chamberlain, to ban all unofficial travel to the Northern continent. But fanatical hordes still went on foot across the continent to Ka-Bil, which had been reduced to ruins by religious frenzies and outright civil disorder. Worse still, they had flocked further north to the new settlements of Ka-La-Tlu and Ka-Bey, the sites of new rumours and prophecies. It would he impossible to establish any kind of administration, religious or civil, so long as this disorder lasted and the military remained in control.

The solution? Combat the content of the rumours, of course. This is a matter of symbols. The most obvious initial step to be taken is to ban the chief, in fact, sole symbol of this new religious movement: the use of the colour yellow. In its place, the conventional religious colour, blue, should be emphasised.

So to begin with, here in the Imperial City, the soldiers of the Lord Hepteidon, priest, should be banned from the streets.

The dusky streets were deserted, as they always are, except for the usual skulkers in shadows. But they posed no threat to the armed escort. Up from the compound near the Monastery of the Priesthood on the shore at the eastern edge of the city, they marched through the narrow streets of the eastern poor quarter. The escort was supplemented, as it was night, by a number of servants carrying torches. This was necessary because nowadays all the shops and houses were closed and shuttered before the sun had even set, so that no light fell on the darkening streets. They marched out onto the wider avenues of the middle class quarter, tramping noisily across the wooden bridges of the canals that marked the boundary of the two quarters, rich and poor. Up the centre of the avenues, deserted and dark, the foliage of trees sometimes reflecting the torch light, but the houses dark, hidden behind their walls and locked gates. Then they swung onto the great central boulevard, the Avenue of the Sun, which led north up from the docks to the Keep of the Emperor. Up and up they marched, their tramping boots creating echoes off under the flanking trees, in courtyards and against high bronze gates.

Then they came to the stone bridges over the wide canals and waterways which separated the middle class quarter from that of the aristocracy. The troop did not slacken its pace, for did they not escort a Merura nobleman? They entered the area of parks and gardens, that ambiguous bulwark of the aristocratic quarter: could not an enemy lie in wait here as you could lie in wait for him? Here the regular tramp of iron shod boots was diffused rapidly among the open spaces, the trees and the flowers.

From here the last rays of the sun could be seen, shooting up momentarily in the rapid tropical decline into the sea. Above, pursuing the sun down, the waxing moon was turning yellow. Higher again, directly above now, was Ilgem, the New Star, brightest star.

But looming up against the northern sky was the great Imperial mountain, Mu-Ra, rising regularly to a cone against the stars, a dark steady mass of rock, symbol of the stability of the Empire.

Only one light could be seen on the Tower of Pa, the Imperial Keep and palace. Once, it would have been festooned with lights, a great fire burning on top behind the battlements, a symbol of the continuous presence of the Emperor, a symbol of the living quality of the Empire. Now only one light, large enough to be seen from the sea, but yet only a token light maintained at a price no one knew.

The troop marched past the mansions and palaces of the great Merura aristocrats. They marched on with the same deliberate pace, echoing against the high walls and great iron gates. They marched, but were more watchful. Here, if it was ever agreed upon, opposition to the claim to right of way would be contested. But now all was in darkness, though they were watched from sentry huts and, perhaps, from private chambers. What was seen was, from one side, a flank of square yellow shields, from the other side, a line of axes and a flank of yellow leather armour. In the flickering light of the torches, the yellow was many-hued and ambiguous: ranging from the dirty brown of mud, through sickly and brazen hues, to rich gold and richer pure yellow.

To those that had turned to it in their desperate search for an escape from fear, yellow was the colour of promise. To those who witnessed it on such a night as this, in the guttering light of the torches, passing along empty streets and avenues, yellow seemed to promise everything: good and evil.

It seemed to be no more than a mirror of what the perceivers themselves were.

The column marched on, up past the aristocratic dwellings, and no one attempted to stop it. It approached the great bridge over the waterway or moat that separated the Imperial Compound from the rest of the city. The huge iron gates beyond the bridge were closed, the bastions in darkness. The axemen marched onto the bridge and marched towards the gates, no slackening of pace, until a command was given.

Instantly, the column crashed to a halt. Silence followed. Another order. An axe rang against the iron gate.

Silence.

A postern gate was opened. A black-skinned soldier thrust his head out.

The leader of the troop took one step forward and barked gutterly:

'The Lord Hepteidon to visit the Keep!'

And stepped back.

The gates opened, screeching on their hinges, unused to the movement. Until only eighteen months previously, the gates had not been closed in over fifty generations.

A shouted order and the column recommenced marching. They marched straight forward in the darkness, up the last stage of the Avenue of the Sun, knowing their way.

Behind them, the Imperial guard watched them and wondered for the seventh time:

Who ordered the admission of armed men to the Imperial Compound?

No one could remember. And no one could be bothered to check.

Now the troop marched through empty parade grounds and ornamental gardens. They were dominated by the bulk of the Mu-Ra and only the blazing light on top of the Imperial Keep told them how far they had still to go.

They marched, wary but, strangely, less apprehensive. No one would block their way here. Once admitted to the Compound and within the military jurisdiction, they had no fear of random attack or personal resentment. The order for entry was an order which totally restricted the Imperial guard.

Then the Keep began to reflect flickers of torch light. Gigantic blocks of granite threw back an infinity of tiny star-like lights and gleams. Except directly before them: the cavernous entrance to the Keep.

Again, the axemen marched without slackening until the order was called. Partially within the porch of the entrance, the last crunch of the column was deafening, echoing back across the Compound and up through the Keep.

Again an axe struck iron and clanged away into the night When the postern was opened, the leader took one step forward and barked:

'The Lord Hepteidon seeking audience with the Emperor!'

When the figure in the postern nodded and stepped back, the leader turned smartly about and shouted a succession of orders. The axemen broke rank, turned, wheeled, and stamped until they formed a protective perimeter around the gate, part turned out towards the Compound, part turned towards their Lord and the open postern.

The Lord Hepteidon stepped forward, followed by four axemen, ducked and stepped over the threshold into the Keep.

The attendants who awaited him were brown-skinned underlings. They had been given no instructions, though they had received notification of the proposed visit through the usual channels. The note had said, as usual, that the priest was to be brought to the receiving chamber of the Chamberlain. Nothing had ever been said concerning his armed retinue.

At first the stairs and walls of the Keep were bare, damp and clammy. Iron shod boots crashed on the stone and echoed up the building. Then, on the third floor, there was rush covering for the floor and sacking on the walls. The air was drier and warmer, the stamping of the axemen absorbed and dulled. On the fifth floor there was carpeting; on the walls plain hangings of indeterminate colour. Now the atmosphere was close and comfortable, a gentle perfume in the air, the stepping more silent and apparently more at ease.

At the eight floor, the attendant led off to the left, followed closely by the supplicant and his retinue, who by now knew the way.

Then the ceremonial of door knocking, enquiry, acknowledgement, and announcement.

The Chamberlain kept the Lord Hepteidon waiting only a very short while. There was no advantage in the tactic on this occasion. The Chamberlain, in fact, was weary of this particular chore and wished to get it over with as soon as possible.

'My Lord,' he said, bowing, his great cloak sweeping off his shoulders, the weight of it in the hot airless room suffocating him.

'Lord Chamberlain.'

The reply was abrupt, without expression.

'Your business, my Lord?'

'I wish to see the Emperor.'

'On what business, may I ask?'

'You know. I have been here before.'

'Ah, Yes.'

The Chamberlain invited the Lord Hepteidon to sit. Then he sat in an armchair beside him, carefully separating his legs to allow whatever cool air there was to circulate on his thighs, at least.

'My Lord,' the Chamberlain began, a stony expression on his lined red-skinned face. 'An audience with His Imperial Majesty is out of the question. I have explained the reasons for this before. But for your benefit, I will explain again.

'You have, I believe, made a written submission to His Imperial Majesty, which requests, among other things, an audience with His Imperial Majesty. This being the case, you must, as is proper, await His Imperial Majesty's Command.

'At such a time, and only then, will you be admitted. Until then, I am afraid, it is my duty to tell you, regretfully, that you can have no admission to the Imperial presence.'

The Lord Hepteidon raised his brows and pursed his youthful lips and stared directly before him. He seemed non-plussed.

Then he nodded his acceptance.

'If it is as you say, my Lord Chamberlain,' he said formally, looking over, 'then what can he done? It is as His Imperial Majesty wills it.'

He smiled and stood up. The Chamberlain immediately relaxed and smiled in return, standing up too and pushing the heavy cloak off his shoulders. Discreetly, he loosened his damp tunic, but it simply clung again to his sweating body.

'It is a pity, Lord Hepteidon,' he said in a partially personal tone, speaking as one Merura aristocrat to another, 'that your petition should cause you such inconvenience.'

The young man looked enviably cool and lithe in his light, yellow priestly gown. He replied easily.

'Ah, Chamberlain, you know how it is. My feeling of urgency is not shared by His Imperial Majesty. Perhaps I did not clearly express myself in my petition.'

He drew a small roll from the sleeve of his gown.

'Perhaps, ah, Chamberlain, you might pass this on to His Imperial Majesty's secretary, the little slave Hsin. It is an addendum which should, I hope, clarify matters.'

The Chamberlain looked at the roll.

'I would take it, my Lord, except that poor Hsin is, once again, ah, out of grace with His Majesty. My advice in the circumstance is that you bring this, ah, addendum on another occasion. Until Hsin returns, or a new secretary is appointed, I am afraid there is the danger that your missive will be overlooked or, perhaps, even lost.'

The young man's shoulders sagged and he looked down at the roll in his hands.

'This is very aggravating, my Lord Chamberlain. I have given much thought to the composition of this little addendum. It will explain much and put an end to the inconvenience we are experiencing.' He seemed to think. Suddenly bright, he looked at the Chamberlain. 'Perhaps you could bring it to His Imperial Majesty's attention. Yes, I know it is, taking everything into consideration, a small matter. But this little favour would be esteemed and remembered in better circumstances.' He paused. 'Will you put me in your favour, Chamberlain?'

The Chamberlain again looked at the roll, pursing his lips in thought. He looked at the young man in yellow, conscious of the four yellow clad soldiers over at the door, remembering the tremendous new obsession with the colour yellow.

There is something wholly new here.

It signalled all kinds of unspeakable things. Even... even a...yes...

Revolution.

Being at the very heart of the Empire, the Chamberlain could conceive of such a thing. At the centre there was no depth, nor was there height. Everything was level and obvious. Here the grandeur and repute of the Empire was but one mortal man, whose failings the Chamberlain knew in detail.

Used to thinking the unspeakable at the heart of the Empire, the Chamberlain could recognise the unspeakable as it approached that centre.

'I wish I could offer you, and your companions, refreshment, my Lord Hepteidon, but it is late and your visit is, as it were, voluntary. But I will do you the honour, as befits your station, of accompanying you to the stairs.'

The young man smiled an easy gratitude. Nothing else showed. He turned towards the door and paused until the Chamberlain came up to his side.

An axeman opened the door for them and then fell in behind.

In the silent, ill-lit corridor, stuffy and close, the Chamberlain bent his head and said in a low voice:

'My Lord Hepteidon, I would gladly do you this favour you ask of me, though, of course, you understand, I cannot guarantee that His Majesty will read it, much less act on it.'

Having received an acknowledgement of his offer, the Chamberlain continued,

'In return, perhaps you would render me a small favour, my Lord.

'Tell me it, Lord Chamberlain.'

'You return to the city? Good. Perhaps you would consider taking a slave into your service. Admittedly, he is old and weak and good only for reading and writing, but he is a faithful and no doubt, under the circumstances, a grateful man.'

He was signalled to continue.

'You would have to take him with you now, this night, my Lord, and take him from the Imperial Compound with sure discretion. No, I assure you that no one will prevent you from taking him, but, how should I say it? Ah, yes. It would be helpful if no one saw him leaving the Compound.

'The alternative, I fear, my Lord, for this old slave is a most cruel death for what in other times would have been seen to be a slight misdemeanour.'

The young Merura still listened attentively.

'There is but one condition, my Lord. This slave must be kept incognito for the duration of your stay in Ka-Ra. Were his presence in your household to become known, there might, again even in these times, be serious repercussions. But otherwise, my Lord, you will find him, in all seriousness, a most useful addition to your staff.

'The fact that I broach this request, my Lord, must show you that, despite his little faults, he is a person liked and respected in the Imperial household.'

The Chamberlain felt the roll being pressed into his hand under the cloak.

He smiled and nodded to the court attendants, who in turn smiled and nodded their relief. One of them ran off ahead.

'I thank you, my Lord Hepteidon. You are magnanimous.'

'And I thank you, my Lord Chamberlain. You are most amiable.'

'Until the next time then, my Lord, under more auspicious circumstances, I hope.'

They bowed to one another and the little troop, of attendants, axemen and Merura noble set off down the stairs, passing from one level to another, the atmosphere growing more stark but more cool, until it became barren and clammy.

The attendants at the entrance to the Keep presented a little, fidgeting bundle, wrapped in sheeting and obviously gagged.

The Lord Hepteidon tapped the head of the bundle and said humorously.

'Keep in step now, little Hsin, and walk tirelessly.'

He signalled. Outside, commands were given. The troop of axemen formed up. The little bundle, legs tripping and sometimes kicking, was placed behind the Lord and a length of rope passed to him. He nodded.

On command, the troop began marching with a solid crash, and went down the Avenue of the Sun towards the perimeter of the Imperial Compound.

Only once was it necessary for the Lord Hepteidon to bend down and say to the running, tripping, gurgling bundle:

'In step now, little Hsin. Do it, if you value your life.'

Beyond the Compound, the troop wheeled right and followed the waterway separating the Imperial quarter from the city until the Avenue of the Army was reached, here it wheeled to the left and went down through the quarters, over bridges and along successively narrower thoroughfares, towards the great military compound on the shore in the western part of the city.

Hepteidon was careful to approach and depart the Imperial keep by different routes every time.

In this way, the inhabitants of every part of the city became used to hearing and seeing his little troop of axemen, while knowing little of his actual movements.

Whenever a troop of axemen were heard or seen marching along the city streets and avenues, it would always be assumed to be the Lord Hepteidon's troop.

And no other.

The moon had set. The guttering torches notwithstanding, it was easily seen how clear a shadow the new star, Ilgem, cast.

Its light was definitely brighter.

Chapter Three

The Emperor Van the Twenty-third, surnamed Ta-Shan, but which had never been used, for the Emperor had no peer, lay back, sated, on his pillows and experienced numbness where once he had experienced a clamorous self-satisfaction.

But numbness had its advantages.

Nowadays, numbness gave him, for a short time at least, his own self. Van did not notice that in this short time he gave himself over entirely to the erotic. But he actually wanted that: it was where, for him now, value lay.

Now, as always, the erotic operated through a comparison. The Imperial bed was set towards the corner of his chamber furthest away from the main doors and from the windows. On the wall beside the bed was his favourite mural painting. It had been a favourite of the Ta-Shan Emperors for nineteen generations, for twenty-nine Emperors, though not the obsession it had become for Van.

It depicted the Emperor Pay the Twenty-second's conquest of the South-eastern lands, called Zimp in the native tongue and simply Nu, its ancient designation, by the Imperial officials. There was the usual cavalcade of Emperor and victorious Army – a brown-skinned army then – prisoners, slaves and booty, including the mysterious Idol of the ruling class, a complex structure made of a metal that resembled silver, but which was brittle and could not be worked by the Imperial metallurgists. The inside of this Idol, Van recalled habitually, allowing his phantasy grow slowly towards its moment, was a labyrinth of shelves, boxes, passages, sealed in places by complicated metal parts that only resembled hinges. It had rusted in places, but seemed, from marks in certain places, most unlikely places at times, to have functioned once upon a time in some way or other. But all the black-skinned possessors could tell of the Idol was that they had possessed it for some absurdly long period, a period reckoned to span at least two and a half Ages of the world.

But to mollify the religious sensibilities of the new members of the Empire, it had been set up alongside all the other idols of the subject peoples and consecrated to the Goddess.

The prisoners had included the usual defeated royalty and nobility of the black peoples, who had been retired to Ka-Ra, put to death, or sent to the far ends of the Empire. The slaves depicted in effect a cross section of the black societies: soldiers, craftsmen, priests; in fact, those elements of the conquered peoples useful to the Empire. It also included examples of the women. There were two criteria, as usual – breeding and beauty – used in selecting the women.

The beauty represented was of the three kinds, stature, feature, and body. As was the usual practice of the Emperors, and some of the aristocracy, selections of each type of beauty were brought together, along with selected men, and bred in order to combine or enhance one or more kinds of beauty.

It was remarkable that in the case of the beauty of the women of Nu, every Emperor without exception had sought to enhance that peculiar beauty of the body represented in the mural.

Perhaps it was because the two examples in the mural had so far been impossible to match. Perhaps the original, naturally produced, as it wore, women had in themselves been the perfection of that kind of beauty, or perhaps the artist had had a truly sensitive eye and hand.

Whatever the reason, it had become an important hobby of the Ta-Shan Emperors for nineteen generations to match those two figures in the mural.

Now Van allowed his gaze to fall upon the two figures, posed at such angles as to give an all-round impression of the features of such bodily beauty. They were so familiar to him, that he felt the involuntary spark of recognition, as though they were old and trusted friends. Their faces were reposed, possessing dignity and showing no resentment at their condition. They appeared to approve of the display made, and appeared to approve of the act of display. Their bodies were soft, rounded, full, perfectly proportioned, and carried with grace. Van dwelt upon the body of each, absorbing the detail, mentally combining the bodies till one perfect and available body appeared in his mind.

The gentle gaze of the women's eyes, giving an infinity of understanding and open acknowledgement, allowed Van to do this with ease.

He lay there, gazing at the figures in the mural, with the composite body in his mind hovering somewhere between the two figures, and contemplated the image until his natural scepticism wore down his imaginative wonder and brought to him its perennial hunger.

This was the moment when he prodded the comatose figure beside him and pushed her off the bed.

He had been assured that Little Ki was finally the perfect representative of the desired beauty. She was sleepy-eyed now, staggering slightly, not quite aware of her role yet. She was also excessively sullen, Van thought, though for the moment her inability to control her passion, a looseness she had to a greater degree than usual, was a counterbalance to the ingratitude.

Van rolled over and slapped her sharply across the face to bring her to attention. It worked. She slipped into her role, posing for him, moving as his fingers indicated.

Now Van, watching her, constructed a second image. He composed Little Ki's wide hips, rotund buttocks, the latter a little too exaggerated, though the agents sought to deny it, her short waist; then full thighs and nicely small knees; then her wide, though not too wide, shoulders, these she had almost to perfection, though the agents had not been told this, and strong arms. Then he returned his attention to her deep chest and squared rib case: here there was perfection, for the strong torso supported the most splendid breasts Van had ever seen. This the agents knew, for they had witnessed Van's instinctive gasp of wonder and admiration at the first showing.

Perhaps Little Ki had already intuited Van's decision, perhaps her tendency to behave casually had been the result of such an insight, that her master intended to keep her with him and never allow her body to be marred by breeding.

The breasts were the last part to be added to the image. He held the image in his mind, superimposed on, and continuously stimulated by, the body of Little Ki. Then, carefully, concentrating, he brought the two images together.

For an instant they merged and Van saw perfection.

Then the images split, both slipping away to their respective realities, one to become painted figures on a wall illuminated by the unstable brilliance of massed lamps, the other to become a living, sullen woman whose eyes Van had never met.

And Van split also, as usual, one part knowing clearly the impossibility of what he desired, the other part struggling by means of rage and demand to combat the unmoving knowledge of the impossibility.

In this struggle, Van was always compelled to act. Not to act was to come under the control of a certain knowledge that admitted of no desire. The courses of action set in train by the struggle within him were various. They could range from pulling Hsin from his cot in order to do some work, to fits of frustrated rage, to the most abandoned sexuality, to acts of violence and cruelty.

Tonight the impulse to act seemed to be restricted. He felt this even though he did not know why the restriction existed. He imaginatively tested possible actions. The only actions that seemed possible were contradictory. On one hand he should control; on the other hand, he should destroy.

Because destruction was easier than control, and also because he was aware of existing at the centre of control, Van sought an object for a possible act of destruction. He naturally eyed Little Ki, who was only now realising that her role was finished for the time being. He watched her come back towards the bed, rolling her hips, the muscles of her thighs working smoothly under her dark-brilliant skin. Instinctively she supported her breasts with a crooked arm. Even so, they swung heavily as she turned and sat on to the bed. She continued to hold them until she lay back, when she let them loll away to either side.

She watches me!

Then Van saw mockery in her sullenness. She had been trained from childhood to carry herself erect, she could not help but do it now. Yet there was an emptiness in her, a sense of being overburdened by her...by her body. Hating what others treasured, she mocked her body's admirers.

Why was this?

All the other Little Kis is before her had exulted in their beauty, because it gave them power and influence wherever they were. To those they came in contact with, each voluptuous beauty had signified to those with special knowledge the living embodiment of what was called the Empire's secret deity, the Black Goddess. By all they were treated with deference, were regarded with admiration, and hungered for with never-sated lust. They were subject only to their master, the Emperor himself, and while their relations with the Emperors varied, it was more usual than not for them to have more influence over their masters than their wives, who were drawn with little choice from a narrow spectrum of the greatest Merura families, could ever have.

And the abandonment of this particular Little Ki was a counterpart to her sullenness. In her, Van suddenly realised as though drawing on new knowledge, there was a reluctance to control.

And in its place was not an urge to destroy, but a complete indifference to everything.

She lay there now, completely slack, her beautiful, splendid breasts lolling as though they were bubs that had suckled a dozen children, instead of the product of a generations-old breeding programme.

Has the blood run out? Should he, and his successors, turn their attention to the new blood coming from the North?

But Van shuddered to remember the large-boned, straw-headed, vehement women he had been shown recently. They were uncontrollable.

But the body of Little Ki showed no sign of degeneration: nor had any degenerated strains or products been reported.

Why then these extremes of apathy and abandonment?

She looks at me!

He could see the line of tense muscle reaching to her left breast, drawing up part of the flesh.

Why?

Then the new knowledge in him was clearer: he remembered Hsin's eyes, floating up to the top of his sockets, regarding him like a holy saint from some pious legend.

Why?

Then he saw the thing he had learned when the little slave had screamed at him, which had decided him to destroy him.

Van was afraid of what he had seen. And was afraid of it now, because it was in the room with him.

It was inside himself.

It was terrible.

But it was inside Little Ki, too:

That was why she stared at him. She wanted to show him that!

But her breasts did not speak of it, nor did the beauties in the painting. Nor did anybody in the painting. They all looked to him as...

Their Master.

Van got off the bed and went down the chamber, under the uneven brilliance of many lamps, feeling his body beginning to heat in the stuffy dead tropical air of the room.

'Hsin!'

Then he remembered, but anyway going down to look at the empty cot beside the overloaded table.

Hsin had to go. If that had not been followed through, then everything would have begun to fall apart.

The Will must will.

He went to the side table and saw the little roll the priest had left. He picked it up and glanced over at the fragments of parchment lying at his chair.

What is to be done?

Locked up here, the Imperial Will now reaches only into the dark. How many of my orders are actually carried out?

I have not heard the dogs yet.

The priest had said

The Solution is this:

The solution to what?

He opened the roll and noted immediately how little writing was on it, even though the parchment was small.

It began:

' _From the priest Hepteidon to His Imperial Majesty, Van the Twenty-third, Greetings from your Loyal Son._ '

And before he could stop them, the words jumped into his consciousness:

Son! That's a bond that cannot be broken!

His hands were shaking.

I have no sons!

He dropped the roll and hurried away across the chamber.

The far wall stopped him.

He turned and surveyed the room, lit brilliantly and yet, as the reflected light on the carpet showed, lit weakly. He could see Little Ki stretched out on the bed, but could not tell if she was watching him.

He feared her mockery!

But he could not have her killed, as he had Hsin killed. It had taken him only one such act to realise that everyone would have to be killed.

He suddenly started off down the chamber towards Hsin's cot and table, pushing away the implacable knowledge that arrayed itself in his mind.

He gazed at the lowly cot with its rumpled, soiled sheeting; at the table with its rolls, inks, blades and writing shafts.

The Imperial commands had issued from this desk.

He sat down on the little hard bench and laid his arms on the edge of the desk, noting the scars and stains on it.

He had seen something in Hsin for an instant, then he had recognised the same thing in himself:

but it was unthinkable.

How had it been forced to the surface in Hsin?

The priest!

Van jumped up and ran to the little table. He ignored the discomfort in his body, the clamminess that attacked his skin.

His Loyal Son!

But what did his loyal son have to tell him?

' _Fear breaks every bond._

Fear makes men free.'

He was too stunned to feel anything.

_How could the priest know such secrets_?

Van was relieved that he saw his inmost fear mirrored in the priest's knowledge. It meant that he was not alone after all.

But the Imperial Will asserted itself: how could such a man possessing such a secret be allowed to live? The deepest secret of the Empire could be shared with no man: hope controls; fear destroys. The two most fundamental weapons of the Empire.

The Will must be One, despite what anyone, even Van himself, wished.

Van called for his guards. They came immediately, through the side door.

'Get me the Captain of the Compound Guard. Instantly!'

While waiting the arrival of the Captain, Van strode down to the bed. He was lathered in sweat, but for once it stimulated him. To Little Ki he said, obscurely:

'I'll have my way, despite the mockery of the world!'

Then he looked her in the eye. Her face was broad and a trifle too strong. Her eyes were like bright almonds. They were also unwavering, the pupils glistening, intent stones watching him with keen appraisal.

My Will will have its way.

There's the real secret of the time: despite everything, my Will is needed.

No one can be free.

The Captain of the Compound Guard charged into the room, panting and flustered. He was followed by a bustling line of heavily armed soldiers, each sweating profusely under the weight of leather and iron.

'I want you, Captain. I don't want your army!'

It took time to sort out the confusion, for while the leading soldiers were quick to understand their Emperor, the soldiers out in the hallway had not and so struggled forward, thinking that perhaps heavy fighting was under way in the chamber.

Van drew his Captain away from the melee, He spoke as softly as the noise would allow him:

'In a nutshell, Captain. The time has come to clear out that warren of yellow axemen. We do it in response to the request of the Priesthood. Wait, I'll give you instructions.'

A fragment of parchment lay at his foot. He picked it up and marched down to Hsin's table, reading it idly:

objective will involve the total

resources of the Empire. For

consuming purpose must be

the mind of every subject

future of the Empire.

I believe that I have

realise it, I ask your permission

of the Imperial resources.

It reassured him. Total resources, indeed!

He sat and scribbled a warrant for the execution of all those who wore the colour yellow in a conspicuous and provocative manner, citing as reason for this Command the petition of the Priesthood, and indicating that execution of this Command was therefore a Holy Purpose.

Giving it to his Captain, he said:

'Tomorrow morning. At first light. Use all necessary force. I want that cabal broken up, Captain, do you hear me? And that includes its leader.' He paused and reflected. 'In fact, Captain, everyone there. Clear it out. Go to it now. You have my Blessing.'

The Captain saluted and ran. He did not even glance at the warrant: he could not read.

Then Van rummaged on the table till he found a piece of parchment. He wrote:

To the High Priest of the Imperial City,

Ka-Ra, Greetings from your Emperor, Van,

I am glad to inform you that a Command has been issued today proscribing all wearing of the colour yellow under the penalty of death. It has been done, as you suggested, as a Holy Cause.

He called a guard and gave him the script to take to the Chamberlain for delivery in the morning. Then he rubbed his hands, plucked at his sodden tunic, and wiped his face. Practical affairs always stimulated him.

Getting up, he shouted at Little Ki over the pile of rolls:

'Get ready, Little Ki, my little cow, I come for you.'

Little Ki was ready for him, knowing the nature of his need. She crouched on hands and knees on the bed, her overly protrusive buttocks presented to him, showing her sex glistening in ready anticipation.

But Van had eyes only for her pendulous breasts, hanging, Van thought, synthesising his image of her with facility, like ripe melons.

With a sigh of glad anticipation, knowing that it would be good this time, he knelt in behind her, entering her peremptorily, bending over her to clutch her heavy, yielding perfections.

Van happily anticipated nothing.

Chapter Four

Hepteidon untied the rope and lifted the sheeting away.

'Now, little Hsin, you are safe for the moment.'

Hsin blinked rapidly, though the light given by the two lamps hanging from the ceiling was not strong. He gave the tall Merura one baleful glance and went to work on the gag.

Meanwhile, Hepteidon found a chair and drew it over and sat.

The first thing Hsin said, once he had cleared his throat and moistened his mouth was:

'You think this is funny?'

Hepteidon leaned forward, elbows on knees supporting his head.

'No, no, Hsin. Don't misunderstand me. I am bemused, that's all.'

Hsin now looked around him. The room was bare, except for some charts on a wall and a pile of rolls on a scarred and stained table. He raised his eyes.

'You are a scholar, Merura priest?'

'I am an Astronomer, secretary-slave.'

Hsin nodded. Then he brushed his wrinkled tunic clown. Having done this, he cocked his head suddenly.

'It is cool here.'

Hepteidon nodded and pointed to the window.

Hsin took a sharp breath.

There were no curtains!

In wonder he went to the window, feeling cool night air play over his face.

Beyond a high wall was the sea, calm in starlight.

'You do not fear, Astronomer-priest?'

Hepteidon saw the Imperial slave and adjusted himself to that.

'Of course I do, Hsin, but, how will I put it? I act within its ambit.'

Hsin nodded. 'There's some sense in that. Is it painful?

'Only when I don't act, Hsin.'

Then Hsin noticed the shadow of the building in the grounds below.

'What makes this shadow, Astronomer? It is too weak to be that of the moon.'

'The moon has set, long ago, Hsin.' Hepteidon paused and saw the yellow-skinned man start.

'It is the light of the star, Ilgem.'

'Ah, the Beast-Star the people call Binin.'

'You have heard of that name?'

'Yes. Everything comes, or came, to my attention sooner or later. The name comes from Nu, apparently. It means Harvest. It is a good solid image.'

'Are you not afraid, little slave?'

'My master sent me to my death. He even wrote it down. Now, you see, I am dead. The Imperial Will is irreversible, because it necessarily has effect by its mere utterance.'

'Ah. Such remorseless logic. But you are welcome here, good Hsin. I give you your life back.'

Hsin turned from the window and faced Hepteidon.

'Not even in your goodness, Hepteidon the Merura, can you give me back my life.' He grinned. 'But you might find me useful in my death.'

Hepteidon slapped his knees and stood up.

'So be it, Hsin. In your death you are free, remember that. Stay here because you find value in it. When you want to leave, tell me. Now, I will get food and drink to maintain you in your death.'

Hsin heard the humorous Merura-Astronomer-priest in the corridor shouting, 'Uöos, Uöos, food and drink for a dead man', and turned back to the window, delighting above all to see the world again.

The old man who followed Hepteidon into the room was hissing:

'Be quiet, Hepteidon. You will wake Sora and her baby. Goodness knows she needs rest.'

'Now, Uöos, you know how a baby sleeps on a full stomach of milk. Like the dead.'

Suddenly Hepteidon laughed and turned to Hsin, catching Uöos sleeve.

'This is the dead Imperial slave, Hsin, late secretary to His Imperial Majesty. In his death he is thrown into our company. Hsin, this is the storyteller and late High Priest of a far, dead city, Uöos the Argumentative.'

A wail came from far down the corridor. Uöos clucked and turned on Hepteidon:

'You see, Lord Merura! I told you.'

He ran out the door.

'It is his child?' Hsin asked, indicating the door with his hand.

'There's a long story there, Hsin. Perhaps Uöos will tell us someday. There are many ramifications, some of them rank superstition.'

Hsin raised his brows with puzzled curiosity, and Hepteidon saw for the first time Hsin's eyes floating at the top of their sockets.

Like a legendary saint, he thought, stopping himself from asking Pol-Chi's question.

A man with a humble expression brought in a bowl of meat and bread and a small pitcher of water. He left the room again without raising his eyes.

'Eat now, Hsin. Then talk or sleep as you wish.'

Hepteidon pointed to the chair and then went to the window. The sea was calm in starlight, a brighter light playing on cresting waves.

It brings beauty first, anyway, he thought in his habitual preoccupation.

Like a woman.

And the man makes ready for his paramour. And for all that follows. The baby still whimpered in the distance.

He turned away, seeing the aptness of the image, and unbuckled his belt, swinging the scabbarded sword onto his cot.

Hsin said behind him, swallowing rapidly to clear his mouth.

'And you are a soldier, priest-noble-Astronomer, the Captain of a column.'

Hepteidon laughed quietly:

'The world grows dangerous, Hsin, do you know that? Men turn against men in their despair.'

'I have read of it, Merura. Yet no one takes the blame for it. Always some other man is the cause.'

'How astute, Hsin. So nobody is to blame. But why don't men see that?'

'How can the inevitable be acknowledged, Hepteidon? Even the truth cannot be allowed to stop man's actions.'

Hepteidon's face lighted.

'Hsin, you must stay with us until Pol-Chi arrives. He is the wise one now. He can discuss such matters with you.'

The whimpering was suddenly louder. Hsin shrugged and put the bowl aside by dropping it on the floor, perched on the chair as he was, legs dangling.

'That sort of thing is common knowledge, priest, once you think about it.'

Uöos came in, carefully holding the mewling bundle.

Hepteidon glanced over, saying:

'That's easily said, Hsin. But it smacks of complacence. You must have food for thought in the first place. Perhaps your...'

'I have brought him, Hepteidon. Perhaps the company will entertain him,' Uöos interjected heedlessly.

'Oh, very well. But you spoil him.'

'He's not a Merura, Hepteidon,' Uöos growled, glancing down at the bundle. 'to be reared on restriction in order to improve character.'

Hepteidon ducked his head, grinned, and went to pull out another chair and place it near Hsin's.

'New ways for the New Child, is it, Uöos? Sit here. Is Sora coming? She ought to join us if she is awake.'

Just then Sora entered the room, her eyes circling, resting momentarily on Hsin and then settling on the bundle in Uöos' arms. Uöos saw this and said.

'I will hold him if you like, mother.'

But Sora came and took him and sat in the chair beside Hsin. Uöos flexed his arms, rubbing the wetness in the fold of his left arm. The baby fell silent, its head turned into Sora.

'Find a chair, Uöos. Hsin, this is Sora, titled the Silent, for she does not speak. And that is her child, a boy who is yet unnamed. Sora, my lovely, this is the late secretary-slave of the Emperor, Hsin, who has come to live with us.'

Hepteidon went then and sat on the floor facing Hsin and Sora, his back propped against the wall. He waited until Uöos has dragged a chair over to a spot which allowed him to face both Hepteidon and Hsin

'Now, Hsin, will you tell us of your death?'

It was Sora who started, throwing a glance at the late-slave.

Hepteidon laughed at this and said.

'Hsin will explain this joke of logic, won't you, Hsin?'.

Hsin drew his legs in under him and resettled himself again. With every one seated around him, he could lower his eyes somewhat. Even so, the new pose made him appear even more like a legendary saint, old, dried, yellow.

'There is not much to tell, I'm afraid,' he began tentatively, not used to speaking either narratively or to an attentive audience. 'In short, I offended my master and in punishment he sent me to my death. But old Tosa, the Keeper of the Imperial Dogs...'

'How did you offend your master?' Uöos suddenly asked, annoyed at Hsin's lack of skill as a storyteller.

'Oh,' Hsin replied airily. 'In a moment of distraction I forgot myself and failed to act like a slave.'

Uöos gaped, and Hsin quickly said,

'In a moment, good Uöos, you will see what I mean. But first allow me to complete the outline of the events. As I said, old Tosa, the Keeper of the Imperial Dogs, whom I have known since youth, could not bring himself to put me in among the dogs, despite the fact that I told him that he must do so in accordance with the Imperial Command, and that I gave him my full permission and blessing to do so.

'Well, if Tosa could not do it, and I was not in a position to do it myself, for I was not Commanded, then what would be done? Tosa spoke to the soldiers who had brought me, and they didn't seem to know what to do either. So we sent for one of the attendants, who are reputed to know of ways and means, and he suggested bringing the matter to the attention of the Lord Chamberlain, who, though no one will ever admit it, does exercise a wilful discretion. It's wrong, I know, but there you are, it helps to smooth matters at times.

'The Chamberlain came down, even though he was expecting a visitor – you, I suppose, Hepteidon – and he read the Command carefully and sat down in Tosa's cabin and reflected deeply. After a while he brightened up and clapped his hands. He called the soldiers and told them to take me into the compound and place me there and then bring me out again. This they did, keeping the dogs back with their shields. Why it was necessary, I don't know, for I know each dog by name and each knows me. In other words, they would have come to be patted, that's all.

'Now, perhaps the Chamberlain was strictly literal in his casuistry, but that he knew he was not following the intention of my master is proven by the fact that he could not take me back to the Imperial bedchamber. I pointed this out to him, but all he did for my trouble was to tell me to shut up. He went off then, saying he had his visitor to attend to, and that he would try to find some way around this other problem.

'So, I was left with Tosa, to share a drink with him and talk of old days. That was pleasant, for it had been a long time since I was free to go out and about in the Compound and talk to my old friends. Suddenly, then, some of the attendants appeared, gagged and hooded me, and before I knew it I was quick-marched by a long and, I suspect, circuitous, route here.

'There you are! And here I sit!'

Sora looked quickly at Uöos, and he studied her face for a moment and then asked Hsin:

'But why do you say you are dead, yellow saint?'

Hsin laughed, highly amused by the realisation that his storytelling had been successful. He bowed sideways to Sora:

'My lady, it is in accordance with the Imperial Will that I am dead. That Will decreed my death and so I am dead.'

It was Hepteidon who spoke now:

'But tell me, Hsin, now that we are engaged in logic, when or where did the Imperial Will, as such, specify your death? On your own admission, all the Warrant commanded was that you be placed among the dogs. And this, you say, was done.

'My dear Hepteidon, can you not see that my death was intended by such a Command?'

Hepteidon screwed up his face and began to interlace his fingers over and over. Uöos was gurgling behind his hand. Sora stared expressionlessly at Hsin, then jerked and began to unlace the front of her gown in order to free her right breast.

'But Hsin,' Hepteidon said slowly, watching his fingers, 'you have also said that the dogs would not have attacked you, that each of them knew you as a friend. So how could even the intention of the Imperial Will be fulfilled?'

Hsin sat bolt upright and stared straight before him, Uöos began to laugh openly, his face reddening.

Sora gave her dripping nipple to her child and watched it suckle.

Then Hsin spoke with a kind of awe:

'I believe you're right, bright Astronomer. It would not have been possible, while following my master's instructions to the letter, to have fulfilled even the intention of his Command.'

Slowly, he scratched his brow over his right eye.

'It seems, then, that I am not dead after all.'

Uöos exploded in a convulsion of laughter, spluttering as he made a last attempt to hold it back. He jumped up and hurried from the room. They heard his loud, uproarious laughter go down the corridor.

Sora withdrew her nipple and the infant began to cry loudly. Hepteidon said over to her:

'He bites you again?' When she nodded, he continued. 'His gums grow hard, dear one. Should you not leave him with the wet nurse?'

In reply, Sora offered her nipple to her baby, squeezing it with two fingers so that it jutted and her milk surged up and trickled down on to her fingers. The baby took it and quietened.

Then Hsin slumped again and said in a more resigned voice:

'I fear that it is not the case, after all, Hepteidon. You see, my master did intend my death. The Command assumed that putting me among the dogs would have ensured my death.' When Hepteidon began to shake his head, Hsin spoke more firmly: 'Can't you see, Astronomer? Allow me the indulgence of an hypothesis, though I would not normally go to such extremes. Now, the fact that I was not returned to the Imperial bed chamber and my master's presence after all the formalities demanded by the Imperial Command had been completed, indicates that it was known that my master would have tried to find some other way of having me executed. He may have chosen flaying, beheading, drowning, dropping from a height, anything. And one of these, I assure you, Hepteidon, would have been successful.

'No, it seems to me that even if an Imperial Command cannot be effectuated, the intention and objective of that Command must be considered fulfilled. In my case, then, though the instructions of the relevant Command would not have effectuated the objective of the Command, that is, to have me killed, it remains the case that the intention and objective of the Command must be considered as having been fulfilled. In other words, merely because it was commanded by the Imperial Will, I am dead. Now.'

Hsin brushed down his wrinkled tunic with obvious pleasure.

Hepteidon watched him with narrowed eyes.

Sora sat the baby forward on her knees and began to slap its back firmly but gently. The baby, for its part, looked with wide-open eyes at the contented Hsin, milk trickling down its deep dimples.

'In that case, Hsin, while your logic impresses me for its rigour and integrity, it seems to me that the Imperial Will cannot be realised, as it were, without the compliance of another will. In your case, the Imperial Will can only be fulfilled by the compliance of your will.'

The baby burped loudly, and Hepteidon looked at it in surprise, as though he had heard an original comment on his argument.

Hsin ignored the interruption and said, when Hepteidon had returned his attention to him:

'Of course, good Hepteidon. My will is subject to my master's. That is elementary.'

Uöos returned, looking very refreshed and gay. He carried a jug and small bronze cups.

'Forgive me, friend Hsin, for my laughter. I did not mean to mock you. But logic has its absurdity. To make amends, I bring wine.'

Hepteidon was surprised to see the somewhat nervous regard in Hsin's eyes. But, even so, he rubbed his hands with relish and accepted the filled cup. Then Uöos handed one to Hepteidon and turned to Sora with another one. It had been Pol-Chi's instruction that she be offered a drink whenever they drank together. She did not always accept it, and then accepted wine only. Now she looked down at the sleeping baby, whose little sparsely covered head rested against her breast. Uöos fussed. Finally, he put the cup down and took the baby and laid it out on Hepteidon's cot, pushing the scabbarded sword to one side. When he returned, he found that Sora had taken the cup.

He took the last cup for himself and sat down.

Now Hepteidon looked down into the bright brown-red liquid and saw streaks of gold there.

'Let us drink to Hsin, master logician, who is not yet sure whether he is dead or not.'

They raised their cups to him and drank,

Hepteidon wiped his mouth, coughed behind his fingers and said:

'But, Hsin, there is no necessary connection between the Imperial Will and your will, is there? I mean, you are not necessarily obliged by the Imperial Will.'

Hsin finished drinking, made an appreciative eye to Uöos, and collected himself around the cup in his lap:

'This is not a matter of strict logic, as perhaps you will readily see, good Hepteidon. For some, it is a feature of the divine institution of the world that the Imperial Will obliges all other wills. For others, it is a principle of sovereignty.'

'And what of men, Hsin?'

'Oh, you mean the third order, the Human Order. Man is, in himself as part of the Human Order, not so obliged, for that would imply the existence of a third determinative power, along with the divine and the sovereign. But man is obliged indirectly, but inescapably, by the two powers, mediately by the sovereign.'

'Bravo,' Uöos cried, raising his cup to Hsin. The yellow mock-saint took him seriously and raised his cup in reply.

'But, Hsin, man in his Order could, strictly speaking, deny the rights of those powers. Such a thing often happens. The existence of the Imperial Army indicates this, as do the incidents of rebellion.'

'But you see, as you say, it is rebellion.'

Hepteidon leaned forward from the wall. Uöos was passing about, bent, pouring wine.

'But that, dear Hsin, is only from the point of view of the sovereign power. Couldn't rebellion speak of a right in the Third Order?'

Hsin was aghast.

'Rebellion has no rights. It contradicts the sovereign Will.'

Now Hepteidon tapped his knee:

'But consider, Hsin, all action necessarily has effect. As such it must contain – how will I put it? – an order. There has to be a right in that order.'

Hsin drank quickly.

A shout came from outside, then another. Uöos jumped up and went to the window.

'I do not think that can be said in principle, Hepteidon. I will dismiss the case of the man falling to his death, for I assume you mean to refer to deliberate action. What of the case of mistaken judgment, when an action produces an unintended effect, or again the outcome of ignorance or imperfect skill? I think you...'

'The ships come, Hepteidon!' Uöos shouted in sudden excitement.

Hepteidon scrambled up and jumped to the window.,

'Are they from the North or are they Pol-Chi's?' Uöos asked, pointing out at the dark line of vessels passing under sail not far from the shore. 'I cannot tell.'

'They come out of the North, Uöos. But that need not mean they come from the North. But they are like the small ships used by the Northern Fleet under Tan-Set.'

Uöos drew back, showing his disappointment. 'The poet is a long time coming, Hepteidon.'

The Merura leaned forward slightly and touched Uöos' shoulder.

'It is a long way, storyteller. He'll come soon.'

But Uöos gave Hepteidon a shrewd look and then turned away.

Hepteidon continued to gaze out at the ships, saying:

'Is it fortuitous that they arrive this particular morning?'

But Uöos felt in the absence of Pol-Chi the absence of Korkungal also, so he did not reply.

'Perhaps it is as Pol-Chi insisted. All things are supplied for a Holy Operation.'

The sails would be yellow. Yes, it gathers here now.

Hepteidon called down into the yard below for a messenger. Then he went back into the room.

'I am sorry for this interruption, Hsin. It can't be helped, I'm afraid. It is a pressing matter.

'But let me say this, without recourse to the elaborations of logic. I raised the question of the possible rightness of human action for this reason. It is important to discover the nature of such a right, its principles, and modes of operation. And for this reason, whether you or the Emperor acknowledge it or not, the Human Order, as you call it, now takes on an action of its own. You may call it rebellion or chaos, nevertheless it is an action with potentially serious effects. I want to know its bases in order that some way be found to control it. Can you see that? Good. I would like you, now that you are here, and possess the knowledge and rational power, to study this problem for me.

'It will earn your keep, Hsin, and give you something to do in your pseudo-death.'

A black-skinned soldier came in.

'Ah, Sert,' Hepteidon said, turning to him and extending an arm. 'It's not quite dawn yet. I want you to go to the Army Compound and meet the Fleet. Explain the tactics to Tan- Set. Take this map.' He picked up a roll from the table and gave it to the soldier. 'Tell the Chief-Commander that he may have to act this evening, so he's to get on with it. The signal will he three columns of black smoke at irregular intervals during the afternoon. In that case he moves once the sun has set. But remind him from me: no unnecessary killing. So, off you go. Stay there if it is inconvenient to return. Oh – and tell Tan-Set that, despite all appearances to the contrary, I will not need his help here. Go now with my blessing.'

When the soldier had left, Hepteidon turned to the others.

'I think we should sleep now, Hsin. Uöos will find you a spare cot. By the way, can you handle any weapons?'

'A bow, Captain Hepteidon. My constitution permits that.'

Hepteidon smiled.

'Oh, Hsin, I command as a Merura Lord, as the hereditary Lord of Bas-Ku, in the homeland of the Merura. But I am glad you are a practiced archer. It is a useful skill in defence.'

Hsin slid down from the chair. He came up to the Merura's heart only. But he bowed deeply.

'My Lord commands me.'

'No, no, friend Hsin, Hepteidon the Astronomer-priest-Merura Lord – and other things, requests your assistance as a man.'

Hsin looked up, wrinkled his brow till it was deeply corrugated. His eyes floated up and up.

'To the extent that a dead man, upon which I insist, can assist a living one, you have it.'

Hepteidon, in the act of turning away, stopped and asked with sudden intensity:

'Hsin, what is a living man? No, no, but think about it. We will talk again soon, I hope.'

Uöos came over and showed himself ready to guide Hsin.

'Rest, Uöos. Do not grieve so. Remember his words. As I do.'

Sora picked up her baby and Hepteidon accompanied them all to the door.

Back in the room, he saw the first glimmers of dawn out over the sea.

Soon.

He drew the curtain and went to his cot.

There was a wet stain in the centre. Hepteidon smiled and picked up the scabbarded sword.

Soon it will begin. It is inevitable.

He pulled out the sword, hearing it scrape loudly. It gleamed.

There was a dent low down on one side.

Putting the sword and scabbard on a chair, he removed his yellow robe and lay down. Almost immediately, he was asleep.

Chapter Five

When the sun set, rapidly as it does in the tropics, and the moon slid down in pursuit, though falling behind each night, the public expression of excitement and unease in the city died down as the inhabitants disappeared behind curtaining and shutters.

The sounds of battle in the eastern part of the city had ceased earlier, while there was still sufficient light, and the Imperial Guards retreated in reasonably good order, if tired and bemused, to make the long, slow climb up to the Imperial Compound. The little traffic that remained on the streets and avenues at that hour gave right of way, even though it was not overtly demanded, for a staggered column of one hundred and fifty soldiers, their draught horses and carts, impeded by dead and wounded, still had some momentum.

While they did not actually line the streets and avenues, many citizens contrived to come and look at the passing column. The most common observation made was upon the relatively small number of dead and wounded, given the battered condition of the soldiers, many of whom carried badly dented shields, broken spears, who lacked helmets and whose armour was cracked. The fighting had obviously been as hard as it had sounded, yet it was wondered why there were so few causalities.

With their attention thus focused on a novel aspect of the returning force, most citizens avoided having to reflect on the prospect of the Imperial Army suffering a reverse in the Imperial capital itself.

But the citizens retired for the night, before the sun had set, with a sense of foreboding. A fundamental change was taking place in the Empire.

Everyone knew why this was happening, but no one would speak it out.

Later, in the light of the setting moon, the familiar tramp of the Lord Hepteidon's troop of axemen was heard in individual streets and avenues. The Lord Hepteidon once again went to visit the Imperial Keep in order to carry out his mysterious business.

Tonight, however, there were two departures from the routine the citizens had become accustomed to. One they noted for themselves; they remained ignorant of the second. Early in the night it was noticed that the Lord Hepteidon's troop was not the usual tightly packed column of axemen. The axemen were there, but they were accompanied now by other tall barbarians, who carried no shields but who had gigantic swords slung across their backs.

Later in the night the Lord Hepteidon's troop was heard again, marching iron-shod along the streets, marching up towards the Imperial Keep. When the citizens peeped out at this troop, they got a double shock. The soldiers were black-skinned, and each of them wore yellow armour and carried yellow shields.

Moreover, those citizens who lived near a bridge crossing a boundary canal or waterway, saw that the Lord Hepteidon's troop took command of that bridge.

Thus, the Lord Hepteidon put one thousand soldiers on the thoroughfares of the Imperial City, Ka-Ra, and took command of all the key crossings and intersections. He also put two hundred soldiers into the Compound of the Priesthood in the eastern part of the city. In the Imperial Compound itself he placed three hundred heavily armed barbarians.

All these soldiers wore yellow armour and carried yellow shields and sported yellow tufts and plumes in their helmets. This despite the proclamations made in prominent places banning the wearing of yellow in a conspicuous and provocative manner.

*

Hepteidon stood beside the heavy carriage, painted yellow, and passed a few final words with Uöos.

'The secret is, storyteller, that the Empire is only one man. If we had attacked at the boundary, it is true, then the Empire would have been a million armed men. But at the centre, the Empire is only one man.'

'But the Emperor will not accept your act of rebellion,' Uöos said, gazing up with curiosity at the young face, expressionless in the light of the torches.

'I quote, Uöos, "I only defend myself",' Hepteidon replied smoothly, a light joy suffusing his voice. 'I have been tried without leave to plead and defend myself. It is a legal matter at the moment. So, I go now to plead.'

'It is still an affront, Hepteidon, and you know it.' Uöos spoke without much conviction. 'The Emperor will never forget that you offered it.'

Hepteidon showed a momentary intensity when he replied, bending slightly towards Uöos:

'Please try to understand this, storyteller and man-of-the-past. There is no going back ever again. The Emperor will have no time to remember. I do what is necessary.'

'And if the Emperor refuses to go along with you?'

Hepteidon stared hard.

'He cannot refuse. You will see.'

He climbed into the carriage and struck the roof to signal the driver. As the carriage clattered out through the gate, Hepteidon leaned out and called back.

'Rest now, Uöos, my friend. I will return in the morning.'

A troop of mounted spearmen cantered past Uöos, blocking his view of the carriage as they swung out in procession.

Hepteidon looked down at the debris, including the wrecked battering ram, that remained from the fighting of the previous day. He saw the carcass of the Imperial Captain's horse lying to one side, an arrow protruding from its chest.

Leaning back against the quilted upholstery, Hepteidon sought Hsin's eyes in the gloom.

'You proved your worth as an archer, good Hsin.'

Hsin's eyes flickered in the stray reflected light from the star Ilgem. He sat cross-legged on the seat facing the Merura, his hands resting palm upward in his lap. His eyes were level.

'Perhaps there was luck in the shot.'

Hepteidon heard the banter.

'There was not, Hsin, and I know it. You said you would bring the horse down as an example of your skills And you did.'

'I used to practice often, as a form of exercise.'

'You don't have that kind of muscle, Hsin. I can see that, as my archers could yesterday. You have an almighty will, Hsin.'

Now Hsin laughed and lowered his head.

'I have heard of such skills among your people, Hsin,' Hepteidon continued. 'But that was the first example of it I have witnessed.'

Hsin laughed again, a harsh mocking laugh. 'Some day, my Lord Hepteidon, I will fly for you.'

Hepteidon had an impulse to look out at the shuttered houses and shops they were passing. The horses clattered with an easy pace, in front and behind, in the silence.

Musingly, Hepteidon said, 'No doubt you will, Hsin. It seems to me at times that men have powers which are little used. You can fly by the strength of your will and a poet can embrace a goddess by the strength of his desire. Are they not formidable powers, Hsin?'

'Why do your distinguish powers here, good Lord? The poet you speak of could fly if he sought to.'

'And you could embrace a goddess?'

'Ah, my Lord, my condition makes that impossible.'

'Why should it? The poet says that such a love is impossible anyway. To embrace a goddess, he once said, is to embrace nothing.

The horsehair stuffing of Hsin's seat creaked suddenly in the dark.

'Hsin?'

'Yes, my Lord?'

'You started. Why?'

'To be candid, my Lord Hepteidon, what you said found an unexpected echo in me.'

Hepteidon laughed audibly for Hsin to hear. But when Hsin did not speak, he said:

'Will you explain?'

'There is nothing to explain, Hepteidon.' The voice was tense, and became more tense as Hsin continued: 'You asked me to think about the idea of a living man. Do you remember?'

'Yes. Go on.'

'The surprising thing was that once I set to reflecting upon that notion, I received the answer almost at once.'

'What is it?' Hepteidon's voice suddenly betrayed urgency.

'If you look within yourself, you would see it too, though it requires some, ah, sincerity.'

'I understand you perfectly,' Hepteidon said firmly in the dark. 'But you tell me, if you will, Hsin.'

'Put simply, Hepteidon, a living man is like a bottomless pit. He is like a dark hole in a colourful, animated world.'

Hepteidon sighed through his teeth.

'My Lord?'

'Ah, Hsin. That cannot be the whole truth. Why do we strive?'

'I do not know, Hepteidon. Perhaps the dark needs light.'

'Uöos asked once, in a kind of delirium, why we pursue the light when it is so hard to find.'

'I have no answer to that either, good Hepteidon.'

Hepteidon resettled himself in his seat. The rocking of the carriage tended to push him away to one side.

'Oh, enough of mysteries, Hsin. Tell me, have you thought about the other problem? What rights does the Human Order express in rebellion?'

The carriage rolled on to the wooden bridge that connected the eastern poor quarter with the middle class quarter. The wheels of the carriage ground noisily and the clatter of hooves was suddenly deafening.

Soldiers of Tan-Set's command saluted him as their Lord, raising their yellow shields to him. Hepteidon acknowledged their salutes and then the noise eased as the carriage entered the more evenly surfaced avenue of the wealthier quarter.

Hepteidon suddenly saw that the cowering citizens of the once-proud Imperial capital, the Ka-Ra, were as nothing, lacking presence in the world, and offering no obstacles to his progress to the Emperor. The light of Ilgem shone down on the comfortable houses behind the trees and walls.

It brings them light. But it defeats them with its light.

'You require these reflections for your audience with His Imperial Majesty?'

Hepteidon broke his reverie.

'No, Hsin. Tonight, it is initially a matter of legality.'

'Perhaps it is as well. I will present the conclusions of my thought, Hepteidon, within the context in which I reflected upon them.

'Recently, His Imperial Majesty was vexed by a request that farmers of a certain region be allowed to return to their traditional practice of raising grain. Ten generations ago, the Emperor decreed that they produce oil-seed instead. Now, the Emperor based his refusal to allow them to revert to their traditional practice on two arguments. One was that they and their region generally were richer for the production and processing of the oil-seed. The second was that they had once rebelled. The Emperor's assumption was that they had rebelled because they were poor.

'I pray you have patience with me, Lord Hepteidon, for the matter is somewhat complex and I am not used to narratives. In the first place, the Emperor believes that because of an oversupply of grain in that region of the Empire at present, these farmers would suffer a sharp drop in income if they returned to cultivating grain. But the Emperor uses this fact of present-day conditions to explain a rebellion which took place long before the Emperor decreed the changeover from grain to oil-seed, and, moreover, long before the production of crops was integrated in that region.

'It is obvious, of course, the principle by which the Emperor sought to explain that rebellion. The Sovereign power is responsible for the direction of the Human Order to the end of its greater well-being and happiness. Thus, the Emperor infers that the changeover in crop production was decreed in order to remove a cause of rebellion which it was within the competence of the Imperium to remove.

'Now, while strictly speaking this is so, I mean that the Emperor is compelled in his Sovereign power to do all that he can to provide for the greater well-being and so on of his subjects, the fact remains that all the great rebellions within the Empire that I know of did not have their roots in economic conditions. They all occurred among the subject peoples of the Empire and all of them, moreover, had only recently been conquered.

'In other words, my good Lord Hepteidon, these rebellions had their roots in competing claims to sovereignty. No right of the Human Order as such was invo1ved.

'But the Imperium by definition cannot acknowledge any other claim to sovereign power. Therefore, the causes of these rebellions have always been formulated in terms of contingent disorders in social organisation which the Imperium has the power to correct. That the populace rebels in response to these disorders is always attributed to the inherent ignorance and irrationality of the populace, who by definition, to the extent that they lack the appropriate powers, and rights, could not correct these disorders themselves. Furthermore, rebellions in the face of such social disorders, as it were, is seen as proof of the, analogically speaking, animal nature of the populace that grows impatient and violent in hunger.

'Patience, good Lord, for there is one other element here. The Emperor, in rejecting the request of these farmers, always emphasises the fact that there is over-production of grain in that region and so prices are depressed. But, and this is especially so in recent years, he has consistently ignored and refused to investigate claims made by the Duke of the region that the supplies of grain there are insufficient. And why is this, my Lord? Because the production of grain has dropped, and has dropped drastically in recent years. But production and trade generally have declined during the last generation, and has declined sharply in the last five years.

'Finally, why does the Emperor insist that the region continue to produce seed-oil? Because the demand remains high and because certain aristocratic and merchant interests close to the Emperor wish it to be continued.'

Hepteidon shook himself and sat back.

'There is much of interest in what you say, Hsin.'

'But it is not relevant?'

The carriage suddenly slowed. Hepteidon saw soldiers approach. Their leader shouted.

'Take care in the gardens, my Lord. The retinues of the aristocrats test us.'

Hepteidon nodded his thanks and leaned out and ordered his escort to fan out around the coach. Then he struck the roof and sat back.

The noises of the carriage and horses rose in pitch as they crossed the stone bridge into the quarter of the Merura. Once onto the gravel of the wide avenue, flanked by trees and gardens, Hepteidon coughed lightly and said:

'Where were we, Hsin? Oh, yes. There is an element of irrelevance in what you tell me. I will put it like this, and you can reflect on it here. You tell me of history and what is best called a politics of maintenance. But you must try to understand, and even Uöos has difficulty grasping this, that the order of the Empire, as you know it, has already passed away.'

'I do not understand you, my Lord Hepteidon. You asked me to reflect on rebellion and I have done so. Now you tell me it was effort wasted.'

Hsin allowed annoyance enter his voice.

'Do not misunderstand me, Hsin. What you said concerning, as you call it, competing sovereignties interests me very much. But you do not go far enough in reflecting upon present conditions. Why, for instance, does production fall away? What are men now doing with their time, if they do not spend it on their traditional work? In turning away from our Imperial order, where do men go to?'

Hsin's voice was suddenly very low, as though he was afraid of being overheard:

'Hepteidon, you speak as if all precedents were of no value. Do you mean to say that there is a new thing?'

'Look inside yourself, friend Hsin. Or ask yourself what men do now?'

In the silence, Hepteidon studied the trees beyond the avenue, lit by the light of one star. The trees, silent and still, were nothing too.

The Something was up in the Keep. But would it still be there in the morning?

Unease prickled Hepteidon, but he told himself:

Action always remains possible.

'I have one answer, Hepteidon. Men now produce only for themselves and their families.'

'Ah, Hsin, the economic answer. Don't you have any other answer?'

In the gloom Hsin suddenly fidgeted.

'I cannot order the elements required to reflect upon your other questions.'

'Now, now, Hsin. Exercise your great will, my friend.'

Hsin's reply was sudden and sharp:

'I direct my will outwards. That is its power!'

'And your will can only act on what already exists?' Hepteidon laughed, an edge of disappointment in his voice. 'You are ruled by your logic?'

He saw Hsin bow down.

'Very well, my Lord, since you provoke me. In all men there is the deep hole I referred to earlier. You seemed then to accept that formulation. Very well. Now each man concentrates upon building a gate to seal off that hole, for the powers of this world are no longer able to do it for him.' Hsin was sharp and bitter, cynical. 'That is what all this talk about light means. But you, my Lord Astronomer, either because you cannot build a gate for yourself, or because you see that it is a fruitless activity, for reasons I don't yet comprehend, or because you want to build one gate for all men, now approach the Emperor in the belief that he possesses the last remaining means to building this Great Gate.'

Suddenly, Hsin deflated and looked up at Hepteidon in such a way that his eyes, like a mock-saint's, rose up and up in their sockets:

'My Lord seeks to construct one final gate against the fear in all men's hearts, a Gate of Death.'

To see it mirrored in someone else's words is to see it objectively, Hepteidon thought abstractly. The Gate of Death: _The An-Akar_. An apt phrase.

'You are very astute, Hsin.'

Hepteidon's tone was such that Hsin quailed out of habit. Hepteidon saw the deep vulnerability in the ex-slave-secretary of the Emperor. Then he saw also the deep courage of the helpless who had withstood the close proximity of terrible majesty for long years.

'You are a Man of Truth, Hsin. You are the most valuable man on earth.

Hsin rocked back against the padded upholstery. Hepteidon, feeling relief at finding such a man, suddenly saw something else there:

Hsin knows truths that no one ever wants to hear.

He plays with me – he is the Mocker: no wonder the Emperor rid himself of him. Yes – he forgot for a moment that he was a slave. What did the Emperor see then? What role has he here with me that he might forget and so drive me to kill him?

'We are all Men of Truth, Hepteidon.'

And Hepteidon saw the _thing_ in Hsin.

And stopped it up in himself, just in time.

I should kill him now.

There was torch light ahead. Tall Brigan axemen came forward, padding nimbly in their iron-shod boots, crouched, eyes still and unwavering.

Here?

The gate of the Imperial Compound lay open on the other side of the ornamented bridge. Beyond, one light flickered on top of the Keep.

'All quiet, soldier?' Hepteidon asked, awkwardly pronouncing the guttural language of the North.

'All quiet, Lord.'

'Resistance?'

'None, Lord. All are willing to wear the colour once the Emperor allows it.'

Hepteidon looked bleakly over the Brigan's helmet at the shadowed stone of the Compound battlement.

The Emperor cannot do that. He cannot contradict his Will

Unless...

'Be ready, soldier.'

The carriage rolled across the bridge and into the Imperial Compound. In the starlight, Hepteidon saw tall barbarians on the ramparts, saw them in small patrols in the Compound itself.

Hepteidon returned to his study of Hsin. The little ex-slave sat head bowed, staring, it seemed, into the palms of his hands. He seemed to vibrate. Then, to Hepteidon's superstitious horror, the little figure _began to glow gently_.

When Hsin looked up, Hepteidon saw that light streamed from his eyes, a gentle lustre of ineffable kindness.

'What is it, Hsin?' Hepteidon sought a practical level in ascribing an illness to Hsin.

'You asked me once how my will is linked to the Imperial Will. I will tell you, to satisfy your curiosity and perhaps to give you useful knowledge. My will is necessarily linked to that Will. Among those like me, the will must be linked outwardly to a Commanding Will. It is the only way my will can operate, though the Commanding Will need not know this.

'My Emperor willed my death, Hepteidon, and now my will finally comes to will it. I did not realise that this would happen, though I should have known. Do you wish to use my mind one last time, my Lord?'

The carriage was slowing, turning in a wide arc to approach the Keep. Barbarian axemen awaited with torches.

'No questions, brave Hsin,' Hepteidon said hurriedly. 'Only one observation. You said once that man's actions outstrip truth, did you not? In that case, Hsin, it seems to me that there is no truth, only action.'

Hsin smiled benignly, no mockery in his so highly risen eyes.

'Ah, slave, there is One Truth.'

Hepteidon leaned forward in anger. The light was fading from Hsin's eyes.

'No, understand me, good Hepteidon. You are a slave till you know that there is One Truth. Farewell.

'Seek it in Love.'

By the time the axemen opened the carriage door, Hsin had fallen sideways, eyes closed but body still folded in its meditative posture. The light was gone.

'Lay him out on the ground there,' Hepteidon said pointing. 'Wrap him in a white cloth. He was not one of us.'

An axeman led him through the now opened gates of the Keep.

Set-Tan met him on the stairs. He was agitated.

'My Lord Hepteidon, it is good to see you again.'

'You have done very well, Chief-Commander. It is to your credit. There is perfection in your execution of the strategy.'

Tan-Set crinkled his eyes with pleasure, then he paused and said worriedly:

'You must see the Lord Chamberlain first, my Lord. The Emperor has locked himself in his chamber and will see no one.

Hepteidon suddenly smiled, finding himself back among affairs and his Holy Operation. He slapped Tan-Set's shoulder and drew him with him up the stairs.

'And that, my dear Tan-Set, is how it should be. We must request an audience with His Imperial Majesty.'

On up they went, the Chief-Commander's boots clumping beside Hepteidon.

Then the realisation struck him:

Hsin died after I willed his death.

Hepteidon's hackles rose, and he was afraid of

Chapter Six

The Lord Chamberlain rose when Hepteidon entered and pushed his cloak back with a practiced flip of his arms.

'Ah, my Lord Hepteidon, I expected you. I received word of your impending visit earlier in the night.'

'It is good of you to see me, my Lord Chamberlain.' Hepteidon began to feel the oppressive, dead atmosphere of the room. Heat seemed to radiate from the curtains and hangings and from the carpeted floor. 'I'm afraid I come on urgent business again, though this time I have no little missive for His Imperial Majesty.'

'So I see, my Lord.' The Chamberlain's eyes creased slightly with amusement. 'You make a more direct statement of your, how shall I put it? Demand?'

'Goodness, no, my good Lord Chamberlain,' Hepteidon said quickly, eyeing behind the older Merura towards the chairs.

Instantly, the Chamberlain turned, his cloak billowing out, and indicated the chairs:

'Won't you sit, my Lord.'

'Thank you.'

When they had seated, the Chamberlain throwing his cloak back again, Hepteidon continued:

'You misunderstand the purpose of my visit this time, my Lord Chamberlain. It is true that previously I have come here petitioning for an answer to a report I had submitted for His Imperial Majesty's perusal. However, good Lord Chamberlain, I come now to plead my case in law.'

The Chamberlain cocked one eyebrow, bent in thought, nodded, and asked:

'What case is this, Lord Hepteidon?'

'I will explain, Lord Chamberlain. This morning my house, retainers and myself came under attack by members of His Imperial Majesty's Guards. Now, to my knowledge, no accusation, no charge, no judgment, no penalty, nor a warning of the execution of a penalty exist to justify this morning's attack. Neither am I aware of any word or action of mine or of my household which could warrant such a serious measure against me or mine. Therefore, my Lord Chamberlain, I have come to plead, as a Merura nobleman, before my Lord, His Imperial Majesty, Van the Twenty-third.'

The Chamberlain looked down at his knees, his mouth open, blowing soundlessly.

'I see. Perhaps I can here outline the circumstances which resulted in the police action that occurred this morning, my Lord Hepteidon. His Imperial Majesty issued a decree proscribing, I quote from memory, but it is sufficiently accurate for our present purposes, the wearing of the colour yellow in a conspicuous or provocative manner, making it a crime punishable by death. It was His Imperial Majesty's personal judgment that you had committed this crime and he himself ordered the police action.'

'But, my Lord Chamberlain, I was not aware up to and including the time of the attack that the wearing of yellow was proscribed.'

'Ah, my Lord Hepteidon, you know the principle yourself, ignorance is no...'

Hepteidon flared with deliberate anger.

'Sir, I am a Merura nobleman, not a mere subject of the Imperium! I claim my rights in Merura laws.'

The Chamberlain fell back in his seat, a look of practiced shock on his face.

'I beg of you, my Lord. Let me finish. Thank you.' The Chamberlain resettled his cloak and quickly pulled at his tunic, thinking, thinking all the time. He flicked a glance at the young nobleman seated beside him, then saw again the unspeakable. But he made a last attempt, half-heartedly:

'The purpose of the police action, my Lord Hepteidon, was to bring you here to answer charges.'

Smoothly, Hepteidon answered as the Chamberlain expected he would:

'Then I am here to answer these charges, my Lord Chamberlain.

Again, the Chamberlain cocked his eye:

'But in the middle of the night, my Lord? No courts sit in the middle of the night.'

Hepteidon appeared to control his temper:

'My Lord Chamberlain, in speaking to you I speak to a kinsman. And as you know, in Merura law I have the right to seek audience with my Lord at any time, especially in a grave matter such as this, when my own life is at stake.'

'Again, I beg moderation of you, my young Lord Hepteidon, Your Lord happens also to be the Emperor.'

'I see no conflict.'

The Chamberlain bent his head, looking at his stubby fingers. Again he puffed soundlessly.

He admired the manoeuvre very much. It was so...original.

Finally, he raised his head, gazed at Hepteidon, and adopted a fatherly tone:

'I see your point, my Lord Hepteidon, and I must admit that it presents a very nice legal problem. Now, I think His Imperial Majesty, your Lord, as it were,' the Chamberlain smiled indulgently, 'should be informed of your presence and of the general appeal you make as a Merura nobleman. But it might help matters if you could give me some idea of your plea and, if relevant, your defence.'

Hepteidon was brusque:

'Certainly, my Lord Chamberlain. You can tell my Lord that I plead innocent. I do so, tell him, because the law is irrational and meaningless.'

The Chamberlain smiled with sudden delight, forgetting himself so much as to lean forward:

'How so, my Lord?'

'Does His Imperial Majesty intend executing all of those in the world with yellow skins? This is only one instance, Lord Chamberlain, one that comes to mind immediately. Other points would be, I think, the definition of words such as 'conspicuous' and 'provocative' – the implication is that those who choose to wear yellow, for whatever reason, are no more than whores. Is this why they are to be put to death? However, I think you can see my argument.'

The Chamberlain nodded, rubbing his chin, His eyes sparkled. Then he rose and swept his cloak off the chair.

'Very well, my Lord Hepteidon. I will go to His Imperial Majesty. Be so kind as to wait here. I will be no longer than can be helped. Mind, though, I am promising nothing. We must abide by the Will of our Emperor.'

Hepteidon replied with noncommitting thanks.

The Chamberlain went out by a small door hidden behind a wall hanging.

Left alone, Hepteidon tried to escape the effect on him of the oppressive atmosphere of the room. First, he looked behind the curtain. There was no exit apparent in the arrangement of the huge blocks of stone that composed the wall. Then he studied the wall hangings. Most were patterned with abstract shapes based on the Imperial number, seven, and the Imperial colour, red. But one, which appeared to be a very old tapestry, seemed to depict, in colours weakened by dust and exposure, of all things, the Founding of the Present Age of the world. The tapestry was small, and hung in a dark corner away from the focus of the room, perhaps to cover a worn spot in the geometric hanging or, judging from its position, to hide a bare spot where once a piece of furniture stood. The style was unusual, a flowing, crowded scene which gave prominence to no particular figure or action. What most surprised Hepteidon, when he hunkered down to study it, was the absence of a representative of the red-skinned Merura. Every other race of man was there, including, another surprise for him, two tall and handsomely dressed red-haired white men, who seemed from their proximity to equally tall yellow skinned men and the brown skinned race to have been an important people in the world.

Hepteidon wondered at the changes wrought during ten thousand years.

The gathered figures, he then noticed, seemed to surround three figures situated off centre to the left. He deduced this not from the focus of gazes or of bodies, but from the fact that a significant space had been left clear in front of them. Their skin colour was difficult to determine and Hepteidon found no clues in their stature, hair or features to their race. In fact, he discovered that they seemed to be completely covered in a fine material which seemed to shine. Each appeared to carry a small dark-coloured box, either resting on a crooked arm or actually strapped to the arm.

Who were they? Hepteidon wondered.

However, over to the right appeared what seemed to be representations of the Goddess in some of her aspects. All except one sat in what appeared to be a kind of boat, painted white, though Hepteidon couldn't be sure, it might have been silver. This boat lay on a small rise, without oars, rudder or mast, with curious symbols painted along its side. Two of the figures in the boat were very fat, and though clothed in long loose gowns, their huge hips and breasts were evident. Both had very long dark hair, while their skin appeared now as very blotched mixtures of stained brown and faded yellow. The other three figures in the boat, who sat in a row behind the fat women, were of differing shapes, sizes and appearances. One was small, with short pale hair and a faded pink face, very large eyes and mouth and tiny ears. No shape could be seen under the once bright gown she wore except narrow shoulders and extremely long hands. The second appeared to be very tall, with her hair rolled and tied up, which, along with the long nose and almost round mouth, created a very unpleasant impression, The colour of her skin had completely faded to a muddy brown, which obscured the detail of her eyes. Surprisingly, she wore no clothes: her shoulders were broad, her arms very muscular with hands hidden behind one of the fat women in front, but her breasts were remarkably conical, low on her chest, pointing directly out and ending in what seemed to be very large nipples.

Altogether, Hepteidon thought, a hideous looking figure.

The third woman in the rear of the boat was completely covered by a tight hooded gown and some kind of mask. But while the hood and mask obscured the shape of her head and her facial features, the tight gown outlined a full figured woman, whose hands seemed to support her large breasts.

The last figure stood on the far side of the boat. She was very old, with the lines on her face still evident in the faded colour, which seemed originally to have been a pale blue! She wore a tangle of necklaces, some of which hung down between her drooping breasts. She seemed in the act of receiving from or handing to the nearest fat woman a small indistinguishable object, though the fat woman appeared to take no notice of her.

Then, when he pulled back and viewed the scene as a whole, Hepteidon noted that though the sky was blue, a bright red star hung in the sky at the centre, surrounded by a ring of five smaller stars, one yellow, one white, and three green.

Bemused, Hepteidon stood up and then felt a wash of dizziness. He breathed the stale air of the room but received no relief. He groped behind curtaining until he found a shuttered window. The clasp was easily forced and beyond Hepteidon saw a small balcony.

He breathed in the night air and immediately felt revived. Leaning on the parapet he discovered the city of Ka-Ra below him, dimly lit by the light of the setting Ilgem. Here and there throughout the city, in a regular pattern following the crisscross of main thoroughfares and canals, he saw the torches of his soldiers, They were the only life to be seen among the huddled arrangements of houses.

But it was a heartening view, nonetheless. The city descended from the perimeter of the Imperial Compound, the enclosed mansions of the Merura and the outlying parks, down through the regular avenues of the middle class, to the, from here, vast huddle of old houses and winding streets, and the harbour, ships tied up in rows together at the docks, others standing out in the bay, while further out lay two of the large three-masted ships which traded to the eastern extremities of the Empire.

Other than the torches of the strategic points within the city, there were no lights.

'Lord Hepteidon, Lord Hepteidon.'

Hepteidon took one last breath and stepped around the curtain into the room.

'Ah, there you are, my Lord Hepteidon.' The Chamberlain was in the act of throwing his, cloak back. 'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting...Is that window open? Oh. His Imperial Majesty gave orders that all windows in the Keep were to be locked.'

'It's very stuffy in here, my Lord Chamberlain. I sought fresh air to revive me.'

The Chamberlain pulled his tunic away from his back with a deft, discreet tug.

'Well, perhaps you could close it again, Lord Hepteidon.'

'Do you keep them sealed in this heat?'

'It is His Imperial Majesty's instruction,'

Hepteidon shrugged and fumbled behind the curtain.

'Thank you, my Lord. Now...'

'My Lord Chamberlain, before we discuss that other matter, perhaps you could tell me something.'

The Chamberlain bowed automatically: 'Certainly, my Lord.'

Hepteidon led him over to the tapestry.

'Can you explain the significance of this scene, my Lord Chamberlain? It seems to be very old. I don't understand any part of it.'

The Chamberlain crouched heavily, his cloak folding gently on to the carpet. He studied the scene for a moment with an earnest attention, then looked up:

'I've never noticed it before, Lord Hepteidon, though I have used this room for many years. But as you say, it appears to be very old and very unusual.' He stood up carefully. 'Those women there, the ones in the cart, are extremely revolting specimens.'

'They seem to be aspects of the Goddess.'

The Chamberlain's brows shot up.

'What a barbaric rendering, then, Lord Hepteidon.'

On impulse Hepteidon crouched and tugged at the side of the tapestry. It lifted easily. The tapestry hung from a thin rail attached to the wall.

Behind the tapestry was a low door, but with no obvious way of opening it.

Hepteidon shook his head, a suspicion dawning, 'How old is the Keep, my Lord Chamberlain?' The older Merura had gone back to the chairs and was now clutching the sides of his cloak with evident impatience.

'I'm afraid I don't know, my Lord, nor can I see the relevance of the question.'

Hepteidon crossed to join him:

'I think that tapestry has been there for a very long time, I wonder what's behind that door.'

The Chamberlain suddenly looked indulgent, charmed by the spontaneity of Hepteidon's interest and questions.

'I'm sorry for being so abrupt, Lord Hepteidon. But I really don't know. An old priest who came to consult the archives told us over dinner that it was, and I quote, the "Centre and Repository of the Ages". I suppose he meant to say that it was very old.'

Hepteidon looked at the floor, noting that the carpet also contained a predominance of red. Then he looked the Chamberlain in the eye:

'Do you know, Lord Chamberlain, I wonder what the real history of man is.'

The Chamberlain looked flustered.

'Goodness me, my Lord, what a thought to have at a moment like this. No doubt there will be plenty of time for you to investigate that in years to come, when you have retired from affairs. But, now, we must really return to the business of tonight.'

Hepteidon shook his head absently.

If the history of man is different to what we believe, could the future of man also he different?

'I am very happy to tell you, my Lord Hepteidon, that His Imperial Majesty will see you. There!' The Chamberlain beamed fondly at the abstracted Hepteidon. 'He was not aware that you, who has always called yourself simply a priest in your addresses to His Imperial Majesty, were a Merura nobleman.

'But my name would have told him that,' Hepteidon said automatically, still thinking about the possibility that the history of man was not what it commonly was said to be.

'Ah, yes, my Lord, there is that. But perhaps His Imperial Majesty may have assumed,..'

Hepteidon suddenly spoke, cutting across the Chamberlain:

'Human history may be different. Can you see the implication of that?'

The Chamberlain gaped at him, completely thrown off.

'Our action may be the wrong one.'

Hepteidon swung about and looked towards the hidden window.

I have already taken Ka-Ra! I can't undo that now!

'Chamberlain, where are the archives?'

The Chamberlain threw up his hands and eyes.

'My Lord Hepteidon! You keep His Imperial Majesty waiting!'

There's no going back now. Still, I should know the truth.

Hepteidon turned, suddenly heavy and clammy.

'Yes, of course. My apologies, Lord Chamberlain. Let us go, then.'

The Chamberlain shook his head emphatically.

'Indeed, my young Lord. Please follow me'

The Chamberlain pulled the hanging back and ran his blunt finger tips over a section of the wall. Then he pressed, and three blocks sighed open to reveal the beginning of a narrow stair.

Hepteidon stared at the Chamberlain's fingers.

'Perhaps this is how the other door is to be opened.'

But the Chamberlain gave a shout and dived up the stair, holding down his billowing cloak.

Hepteidon followed him up the dark well. He tramped up step after step with the sinking feeling that everything was passing beyond his control.

I no longer know what I'm doing.

A splay of light told him that the climb was ended.

The Imperial bed chamber was both dazzling after the more subdued reception room and hotter, with an intolerable musky scent that produced a kind of undertow of rage in Hepteidon.

'You may go, Kenhartdu,' a strong abrupt voice said from the glare on the far side of the room. 'I will call if I need you.'

The Chamberlain swept past Hepteidon, muttering:

'Now, pull yourself together, young man, and make the most of this precious opportunity.'

The abrupt voice spoke again:

'So you're the Lord Hepteidon.'

Peering, Hepteidon could make out the shape of a stocky man, less than average height, for a Merura, who stood arms akimbo.

'I am the Lord Hepteidon, Your Imperial Majesty.'

'I knew your father, Lord Hepteidon. He served his Empire well. But you must have been young when he died. When was that? About, yes, shortly after I became Emperor. About twenty years ago?'

'Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. I was one year old. I never knew my father.'

'Unfortunate, Lord Hepteidon. But in some cases, you know, it wouldn't be a bad thing. Not for you, though. Your father was a severe man, admittedly, but he was honourable, believe me.'

'Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.'

Hepteidon was not accustomed to the light. He saw that the Emperor stood by a small table, which was clear except for some fragments of parchment. Just to his right he saw a larger table, piled with rolls and writing materials, and beyond it a low stool and a cot.

Hsin. Poor Hsin.

At the far end of the room there was a large bed, piled high with pillows.

On it lay a black girl, legs spread-eagled, arms by her side, her eyes, even from that distance, glittering.

The walls were covered by bright hangings and tapestries, which filled the room with an unsettling clamour, made worse by what Hepteidon saw was an uneven brilliance produced by groups of lamps placed haphazardly about.

It reminded him of somewhere else:

Lamla's chamber.

The Emperor stepped forward.

'Well now, my Lord Hepteidon. You've seen the place. It's pretty simple. Come and drink with me as a kinsman...By the way, what kin are you to me? I can never find my way through that labyrinth.'

'Fourth cousin on my father's side and third cousin on my mother's, Your Imperial Majesty.'

'Ah, that close, Good! Well, come on, kinsman, and take some wine.'

The Emperor walked in front of him down towards the bed. He stopped at a small table partially hidden by the fold of a heavy curtain. Then he handed back a gold cup and raised one himself.

'Your health, kinsman.' Hepteidon raised his cup and began,

'And your health, Your...'

'Kinsman. If you're my kinsman, then I must he yours.'

'And your health, kinsman.'

The Emperor drained the cup.

'Good! Now, another. Drink up, kinsman, go on. It'll put you at your ease.'

Hepteidon drained his cup, too. While the Emperor filled them again, Hepteidon glanced over at the girl on the bed.

Her figure astounded him.

She lay completely motionless, her superb breasts supported by her arms, pressed in and upwards by her sides. She stared at him, her eyes frank and unwavering.

'Oh, that's Little Ki, kinsman. But don't mind her. She's a sullen bitch at the best of times. Here.'

Hepteidon withdrew his fascinated attention from the girl and accepted the cup. Imitating the Emperor, he drained it with one gulp.

'More? Oh, come on, one more won't do any harm. You have your wits about you, kinsman, that much I do know.'

Hepteidon stole a glance and turned away quickly.

The girl did roll her breasts between her arms.

'Your health again, kinsman...Stop that, you little whore!'

The Emperor drank and then laughed, pointing down at Hepteidon.

'She affects you, I see, kinsman.'

Hepteidon moved sideways, gulping the wine, feeling heat rise in him, both from his belly and groin. He shook his head while he drank.

'I can see it, man,'

The Emperor laughed again.

Hepteidon hastened around the Emperor and placed the cup on the little table. He tried to shake his erection away.

But it only made matters worse. He was on fire, gasping. The Emperor struck his shoulder.

'Well, go to it, Hepteidon. We can't talk while you're like that. Oh, here.'

He caught Hepteidon's gown and pulled him over to the bed. Bending, he swatted the girl's forehead and shouted.

'Come on, little cow, you asked for this.'

Slowly, emphasising the heaviness of her figure as she turned around on the soft mattress, Little Ki got on to her hands and knees.

'There you are, Hepteidon. Go to now. Then we'll talk.'

The Emperor slapped his shoulder again, pushing him against the bed. But Hepteidon, hot and dumbfounded, merely looked everywhere except at the crouched girl.

'Shy? Well, then, I'll clear off and let you get on with it. Come over when you're ready.'

Hepteidon nodded dazedly.

The Emperor obliged him by lifting his gown up and up until Hepteidon raised his arms.

Naked, he was pushed more firmly onto the bed. The Emperor slapped his rump and shouted gaily,

'At her, boy! And don't spare her. She can take it!'

A final shove sent his face slapping against her buttocks. The girl moved so as to hit him across the nose. Hepteidon groped for balance and found her hip. In steadying himself, he pushed her over. Falling, she brought her foot up. This reminded Hepteidon of something, so he simply dropped his whole weight on to her legs.

She fell over and shrieked, lashing back with her hand and catching Hepteidon down the side of his face, making his right ear ring.

Behind his rising anger, he heard the Emperor laughing richly. It increased his anger. He rolled up on to the girl and came face down across her chest, struggling to pin down her arm. But he felt her free hand pushing under his thighs, trying to get at his scrotum. Annoyed at the confusion, he exerted himself so that he came up off the bed, sliding until his feet touched the floor. Then he grasped her at the hip and neck and pulled, rolled and dragged her off the bed.

She hit the floor with a solid thump, screaming and threshing.

Hepteidon jumped back and stared at her with a stunned look, absently pulling his hair off his face and neck, aware both of the Emperor's continuous laughter and of the various parts of his body which stung with pain.

The Emperor's jeer 'Come on now, that's only child's play!' made Hepteidon livid again. He bent and in one concentrated movement hit the girl's face, caught her under the arms, yanked her up, and, turning her, threw her face down against the edge of the bed, so that her knees rested on the floor and her torso lay over the mattress. Before she could recover, he dropped down over her, pinioning her shoulders with his elbows and her bent body with the weight of his own covering body. When she tried to push back and then wriggle away to one and then to the other side, he used his hands and forearms to press her face into the mattress. He ignored her panic and thrashing and held her thus until she quietened, Then he, too, relaxed. Immediately she freed her left shoulder and swung her muscular arm up into his side, rolling her body up on the momentum. Hepteidon lost his balance and tipped sideways off her. She continued to roll on her back along the side of the bed until she was facing him. Then she dived, her fingers groping on his face for his eyes.

Now it was Hepteidon's turn to thrash with his feet and swing his arms blindly, twisting his head from side to side in desperation. It was at this moment that he saw the stupid chaos of it and the real threat to him.

This was planned!

Where there had been anger, there was now a cold, cruel determination to put an end to the confusion and control his opponent by any means possible.

First he rolled, using his greater weight, his left arm a lever, taking the girl with him. Rolling, he let the girl roll on him, then stopped his own movement with all the strength of his right arm.

The girl went rolling off him onto the floor,

Lying on his side facing her, he swung his foot up into her side, sending her skittering on the carpet, squealing with real pain. He dived after her, grabbed her head and slammed it into the floor, hearing the dull thud as bone was forced through the pile of the carpet onto wood. When she continued to struggle blindly, fingers extended to rake him, he raised his right fist and tried to steady her head.

Then he saw the expression in her eyes and heard in his memory:

'I only defend myself.'

The expression was apprehension. She didn't know what she was doing.

Then Hepteidon lost all interest and sat back on the floor beside her, staring down into the red patterns in the carpet, seeing Korkungal sitting beside Sora.

I may have acted wrongly!

He let his head drop and saw that a truth welled up in him:

Lamla, full of intellectual joy, telling him that he must abandon himself totally to a Holy Operation;

_To tell the men of the world of their doom_.

A wave of nausea rose in him. The confusion was terrible, sinking into his very core.

That is a lie.

Then came a moment when Hepteidon was suddenly afraid of losing all control, of dissolving into total confusion.

But he could not let that happen.

He felt hands on him, helping him up off the floor. Then he felt the softness of the mattress under him.

He shook his head: hearing Hsin ask

'Is it his child?'

and the joke there was huge.

Relieving.

Hepteidon shook his head again and it began to clear. He grasped the cup he was offered and drank, feeling the cut of the wine in his throat.

The girl sat on the floor, staring at him with wide eyes.

The Emperor bent, smiling richly, and said frankly:

'No, good Hepteidon, it wasn't planned. I told you she was a sullen bitch. Anyway, what would be the point of trying to harm you? The Empire is yours. I thought you were one of the legendary brutal Meruras, whose idea of pleasure is to beat a young girl to death. You are cruel, I can see that, but I expect some of the priest-stuff has rubbed off. Made you sentimental, another Merura trait.'

Hepteidon gazed at his Emperor, listening to him, but at the same time trying to clear his head. He tried to remember something that was buried in a lie.

What was it?

The Emperor gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and indicated the girl on the floor.

'Want to try again, lad?'

Then he looked down and shook his head.

'Well, let's talk in that case. The humour might come back.'

He went round behind Hepteidon and the mattress trembled.

'Get up, Little Ki. He didn't hurt you. Stop pretending.'

But Hepteidon saw that she wasn't pretending anything. The expression in her eyes reminded him of someone else. Her eyes were wide and bold; a defensive frankness, he saw. There was also a hint of...

Hsin! The same kind of nervousness! As though in the presence of a capricious absolute power.

'Sit up here, Hepteidon. We'll be just as comfortable here as anywhere else.'

Hepteidon turned slowly, raising his legs onto the bed. The girl had got up, rubbing the back of her head, her breasts quivering with each move she made.

What was it he should remember?

Between Korkungal and Lamla?

The girl climbed onto the bed, moving with unconscious grace despite her heaviness. She sat up on the pillows, on one buttock, her legs drawn up, and leaned against the head of the bed. Then she slid down slowly until, as Hepteidon suddenly realised, she could support her breasts.

Then the memory came obliquely:

What abnormality in me does the Emperor seek to exploit?

When the girl had stopped moving, the arm resting on the pillow crooked so as to support her breasts, the Emperor said softly at Hepteidon's right:

'What do you intend doing with me, Lord Hepteidon?'

Chapter Seven

The girl moved her chin in such a way that Hepteidon saw two things at once:

The girl was not sullen: These are not ordinary times,

Hsin had said that people had withdrawn into themselves, that they awaited something. An event.

This girl was merely waiting.

This is how the fear reveals itself.

'You keep me in suspense, Hepteidon.'

The Emperor's tone was one of resignation, a new awareness of what being in someone else's power meant.

But Hepteidon followed his thoughts turning to look at his Emperor.

The Emperor waits, too. These are the last days: the Empire is no longer relevant.

'Your Imperial Majesty must excuse me,' Hepteidon said, prevaricating in an obvious way. 'I am still confused.'

I need not have come here!

'Perhaps I could take some air at your window.'

Hepteidon saw the movement in the Emperor's eyes.

All eyes move like that now! He examines some great power within him, to see whether he should exercise it or not.

All men are Emperors now: That is what freedom is!

But –

'Of course, Hepteidon. Feel free to do what you please.'

He knows!

Hepteidon's mouth fell open and his eyes lit.

'You know?'

The Emperor's eyes creased and gleamed:

'Of course, young man. Do you think I am a fool? But do you know?'

'But Hsin?'

The Emperor nodded.

'I wondered what had become of him. I hope you take good care of him and treat him well. I learned it from him. He was courageous but I knew no better then than to get rid of him. I'm glad he had the wit to escape. I didn't think he would, mind you.'

Hepteidon got off the bed.

'He's dead. He died as we arrived here. He willed it.'

Going towards the curtains, Hepteidon heard the Emperor say behind him:

'The true slave. It's a pity in some ways.'

The clasp was easy to open. Night air rushed in. Hepteidon breathed deeply.

'I don't mind the window being open for a while, Hepteidon. But I would rather you didn't move the curtain.'

Hepteidon pulled the curtain back and asked:

'What are you afraid of?'

The Emperor was studying him closely.

'Why aren't you afraid, Hepteidon? I've been meaning to ask you that.'

Hepteidon took one last breath and came back into the room feeling much better.

'Didn't you read my report? I made it clear there.'

'Oh,' the Emperor said lamely, and began to get off the bed. 'It's there on that table near you. I'm afraid it's torn and some of it's missing. Perhaps you could tell me what it's all about.'

The Emperor got to the table first and began shuffling the pieces of parchment.

'Anyway, that second note of yours confirmed the insight Hsin had given me. It was brilliant of you, from your perspective, I mean, to grasp the core of the problem so nicely. Really brilliant.'

Hepteidon looked at him sceptically. 'Then you tried to have me killed.'

The Emperor laughed.

'Can't have everyone getting those ideas.'

Does he really know?

'What makes you think they don't know already, Majesty?'

The Emperor's head shot up.

'What do you mean? If they had, they would have burned me out of here before now, before you came along.'

Hepteidon smiled, beginning to feel his equilibrium return.

'Why should they?'

The Emperor stopped shuffling the fragments and looked at Hepteidon with sudden aggression.

'I'm their ruler. What do you think subjects do when they rebel? They do precisely what you have done. They get a force together and come up here.'

'But that's never happened.'

'Hasn't it? How do you think my father got on the throne? Or Pel-Ort the sixty-somethingth, six generations ago, got that string of Pel-Orts on the throne after him? I knew once I didn't have a son by the age of thirty-five that I was open to attack.' Seeing the look of amazement on Hepteidon's face, the Emperor turned to him and spoke with uncharacteristic earnestness. 'Look, Hepteidon. It's the best way to do it. If some group can get pre-eminence down in the city and then move in on me, it will prevent civil war when I die without a successor. I could have lasted another twenty years, perhaps, while they sorted themselves out.'

'But what about the principle of continuous succession.'

The Emperor cut the air with his hand.

'Oh, nonsense. You could put a donkey up here and it wouldn't make any difference. Don't you see, Hepteidon, that the Imperial Will, such as it is, is not settled in the man, but in the office. Look here, Hepteidon. Get some dummy of a soldier down there, have him anointed, blessed, and all the other rubbish. Right? Now call him Emperor and because the people believe the Emperor has this or that power and right, and will, if he says "Boo", everyone will say "Boo".

'Can't you see that? The Imperial Will exists only because people believe it exists.'

Now Hepteidon began to shuffle the fragments, recognising his own handwriting.

Am I being manoeuvred?

'Look, Hepteidon. Here you are now. A lot of soldiers loyal to you controlling the city. Right? Now you come and say to me, where do you want to live, Van? And I say, a certain small estate away from all harm. Then you say, there's a ship that'll take you there tonight. Before I go I work up a Decree making you the Intended, say from two or three years ago. In the morning you pull your troops back, call in the nobility and say, look at this Decree here, I'm your new Emperor, Hepteidon the – I forget how many there've been. Anyone says a word, and you have your men cut him out...

'By the way, what soldiers are you using, Hepteidon? It's hard to see how you've managed what is in any case obviously a brilliant manoeuvre.'

Hepteidon had sorted out the fragments. Two pieces were missing. Now he looked up.

'Can't you guess?'

'No. Oh, wait. Ah, yes. Hepteidon the Astronomer! That expeditionary force! That's it! Just turned it around and sailed down here. Yes.

'How on earth did you persuade them? I mean, it's an obvious ploy, and we usually guard against it by sending loyal officers.'

Hepteidon was looking at the Emperor with amazement again.

He doesn't know what's going on in his Empire.

'Please read this Majesty.'

The Emperor looked down at the creased fragments.

'Oh, I can't be bothered now, Hepteidon. But tell me, why did you want the entire resources of the Empire? Or was that just a heavy hint?'

Hepteidon sighed. It was so ridiculous that he wanted to laugh, except –

am I being manoeuvred?

The Emperor stepped away from the table and looked closely at Hepteidon.

'Well, what are you going to do with me? I'm getting nervous about it, I admit. Are you going to kill me or can I live out my years in peace somewhere? Look, I'm perfectly willing to make out a Decree making you my son and heir. All you have to do is call in the nobles in the morning and show them that. Then you can do what you like.'

Hepteidon's head came up and he saw the gleam of triumph in the Emperor's eyes.

Hepteidon deflated.

So it is a manoeuvre.

And he saw how obvious a manoeuvre it was. He tries to seduce me with the prospect of absolute power, knowing that there is no such thing.

But what does he hope to gain from it? His life, I suppose.

'I've decided to put you to death. I couldn't leave you alive, you know that.' Hepteidon said as evenly as he could. 'You'd only try to get your throne back.'

Now we're beyond the point of return.

But I've been beyond that point since I left the North.

The Emperor hung his head.

'I was afraid you'd say that, Hepteidon. You're too thorough to do otherwise. But, just for the sake of asking, is there anyway I can change your mind?'

Ah! That's what the memory of Lamla tried to tell me:

The Emperor is trying to seduce me into believing in absolute power, in the Imperial Will.

But why?

Hepteidon went and sat on the bed. 'Can you speak, Little Ki?'

'Of course I can speak, Lord Hepteidon.' She said it flatly, but seemed to intend no malice.

'Good. Shall I spare the Emperor's life, Little Ki? You can decide that.'

The Emperor hurried across.

'That's a bit frivolous, Hepteidon. What's she know about this sort of thing?'

Hepteidon shrugged.

'As much as I do, I think.'

Little Ki looked from Hepteidon to the Emperor and back again. She sighed and absently hoisted her breasts.

'Order him to jump out the window, Lord Hepteidon.'

'But I can't do that. He's still the Emperor.'

'But you can force me. With your soldiers, I mean.'

'Suicide,' Hepteidon said, appearing to muse. 'That's in the times, all right. Jump out the window, Your Imperial Majesty.'

When will this farce stop?

'But you can't just order me. As you said yourself, I'm still Emperor. No one can tell me what to do.'

'You can Will yourself to do it, then.'

'But the Imperial Will cannot extinguish itself.'

Hepteidon jumped up.

'But you said you were not the Will!'

The Emperor backed away, suddenly alarmed. He looked down.

'There is that, Hepteidon. But I don't want to die.' He pointed furiously at Little Ki. 'Look, that little bitch is confusing everything. Now, you stay out of this!'

Hepteidon threw up his arms and went over to the little table by the window. He picked up three little cups and a chased gold jug of wine, and brought them back. Giving them one each, he filled them, and then proposed a toast:

'To His Imperial Majesty, to his long life.'

The three of them emptied their cups in one gulp.

'What do you mean, long life?'

Hepteidon filled his cup again, then filled the other two when they were thrust forward. He drank.

'Look,' he said somewhat thickly. 'If you'll let me, I'll tell you why I came here. In the first place, I would have been content with an audience and the Decree I want. But I suppose I expected you to move against me sooner or later. I knew then that I would have to do this.'

'You mean, you don't want the Empire?' the Emperor asked tentatively, looking ready to lose his temper.

'No, I don't want to be Emperor!' Hepteidon shouted.

Then the Emperor was keenly interested.

'Why not?'

'Because. There's no such thing as the Empire any longer.'

'But I'm Emperor.'

'Then you're the Emperor of nothing. Anyway, you seem to know nothing of what's happening in your Empire.'

Hepteidon poured more wine. The Emperor had sat on the floor, deep in thought. Then he seemed to decide:

'What do you want the Empire for? I mean the resources of the Empire, though I can't see any difference.'

'I want to invade the Empire of the Dawn.'

The Emperor let his cup fall. It was empty. Slowly, as though transfixed, he got to his feet and went to the side-table. He began reading:

Greetings to Your Imperial 'Majesty, Van the Twenty-third, from the priest, Hepteidon, Your Loyal Son:

I take the liberty of drawing to your attention some observations on the present state of Your Most Blessed Empire, I remind you of the confusion now spreading through your Imperium. It is said that this contagion has its origin in rumours and prophecies which tell of the destruction of the world. It is generally

Will be the cause of this

However, it is my opinion

present pandemonium is not the

such, nor is it the star Ilgem,

the heart of every man and

the confusion can be dealt

rumours and prophecies, nor

concerning the star, but by finding the counterbalance to the fear. Proposals for dealing with this fear should therefore take account of the special nature of this fear, that it is, in essence, a fear of a fear of nothing. This formulation may seem ambiguous, even paradoxical, but it can be more fully explained in personal audience.

Now the means to counterbalancing this fear is nothing less than the creation of a wholly new Imperial Order. This

mobilisation of all the

this to be done, an all-

discovered, which will concentrate

upon one single event in the

discovered this purpose. To

to begin the mobilisation

He looked over to the bed.

'So this invasion is a gesture, designed to maintain order in the Empire?'

Hepteidon came across to the table. Neither took any notice of Little Ki padding behind him. 'No, not in the Empire. Though the forms do and will remain, you should try to understand that it has no future. No one seems to understand this. Please try to get beyond your fear and see that.'

'But what do you mean by future, Hepteidon? Most of us don't have much of a future at the best of times.'

Hepteidon looked at him, puzzled. Then he noticed Little Ki. He asked her,

'Are you afraid?'

She shrugged her shoulders, the sympathetic movement of her breasts dampened by her arms, which supported them.

Hepteidon bent down close to her face.

'What about the Beast, Little Ki?'

Her head shrank back.

'And the Chosen?'

She looked bewildered, lost, confused. Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes.

'But don't tell me, Hepteidon, that you believe that superstitious nonsense.'

Hepteidon swung around.

'What do you believe?'

Now the Emperor shrugged.

'Put like that, Hepteidon, the only answer I can give is, I don't know. I give orders, and they're not disobeyed.'

'Are you afraid?'

The Emperor nodded dejectedly.

'Of course I'm afraid. Who isn't nowadays?' His eyes were candid. 'Look, why do you think we all lock ourselves up here? Not just me, but the whole city.'

'But what about the rest of your Empire? Ask the Priesthood, or your governors and Dukes.'

'I know, I know. I get reports all the time. But, look, man, enough people stay put so the structure remains.'

'A bureaucrat!'

The Emperor smirked.

'What else? There're five hundred and fifty-four millions in the Empire. It takes a large administration to maintain order.'

'How long do you think they're going to remain quiet? Do you know that the star throws a shadow now? What will happen when it gets closer and bigger? Universal panic.

'I want to give some kind of meaning to the Last Days, can't you see that?'

Little Ki had sidled closer, and when he made his last statement, she slid up beside him and slid under his hanging left arm.

Hepteidon didn't notice, for the Emperor was asking:

'How do you know that the star will come closer?'

'That's what the prophecy said would happen.'

'Oh, prophecies now. You're supposed to be a priest and a nobleman.'

'But can't you see,' Hepteidon suddenly shouted, 'that everyone believes that the star will destroy the earth? It's just like your Imperial Will, it has effect because people believe it has power. In the same way, people believe that Ilgem will strike the earth, and that has an effect.'

The Emperor suddenly noticed Little Ki sheltering under Hepteidon's arm, arms crossed under her breasts. He pointed to her.

'Do you forgive her for almost killing you?'

Hepteidon looked down, began to pull his arm away in reaction, but when Little Ki snuggled closer, he dropped his arm around her shoulders again.

'Of course I do. She only defended herself. It was a misunderstanding.'

'Good. Then you can take her with you when you go.'

'Whatever for?' Hepteidon asked blankly.

'Do what you like with her for all that I care. I can't keep her now, not after she suggested throwing me out the window. Don't worry about me. I'll send for her sisters. They're about old enough now.'

Little Ki smiled.

'Anyway,' the Emperor continued, 'I take your point about the belief and fear. Actually, I see what you mean now about a,' the Emperor consulted Hepteidon's petition, 'Ah, yes, "a fear of a fear of nothing". That's very good, Hepteidon. Succinct.

'But what can be done? The Priesthood tries to do its best, pitiable as it is. Do you want me to turn the Armies on the populace?'

'No. They'll panic like everyone else.'

'Of course. I forgot that.' The Emperor looked down at the petition again. 'Do you know, Hepteidon? I'm beginning to see what you're after. A sort of large scale piece of theatre, to take people's minds off their fear. Is that it?'

'Putting it crudely. No. There are deeper forces at work. From what I've heard and seen, there is some meaning in what's happening. I mean I heard Kandrigi's prophecy in the Ka-Bil, and I saw the Miracle of the Yellow Sun in the North, and...'

'Sort of predestined, are you?'

Hepteidon looked down, suddenly feeling very foolish. But Little Ki snuggled in to give him encouragement.

'Again, rather crudely put.'

'I don't mean to offend,' the Emperor said hurriedly. 'But that's how it strikes me, that's all. But, as I say, I see what you mean.' He paused, rubbing his mouth. 'Tell me, how do you propose invading the Empire of the Dawn? It's rather big, too, you know.'

'Across the newly opened flank in the North. Put the whole army in, as well as anyone else who wanted to join.'

'How many million men?'

'Well, two million soldiers. I'd say about another five million joining up. Food for a year.'

'How on earth could that be organised?'

'Symbolism.'

'What?'

'The colour yellow.'

'Ah, I see. The secret of your power.'

'No, not my power. It simply chimes with what people seem to need.'

'But the Decree I issued last night. Remember? I banned the colour.'

'I know. I've thought about that. Say you meant it as a Decree ordering the death of every member of the Empire of the Dawn. They're yellow mostly. Anyway, you've got to raise a yellow flag over the Keep. That's to get things started in Ka-Ra, at least.'

The Emperor regarded him with admiration.

'You know, Hepteidon, you really are quite brilliant. No. That's not flattery. It's so ingenious. I tell you what. You remember what I said about having no son and heir. Well, look, I'll make you my son and Intended. How's that? You'll make a marvellous Emperor. And It'll be appropriate, after all, the Emperor is called the "Child without a Father".'

Though Little Ki was nudging him ecstatically, Hepteidon felt more foolish than he had before.

The Emperor was mad.

'Now, you'll need titles and everything for this invasion. I'll make you Grand Duke of the North. In that way, you'll be senior to every one, except me. I'll give you Orders to take command of all the Armies, for the specific purpose of invading the other Empire from the north. Then Decrees covering requisition and things. What else?'

The Emperor was beginning to look agitated. Suddenly he noticed the expression on Hepteidon's face.

'How else did you think this would be organised? I'll give you command of the whole administration. That'll give them something to do. Look, you should take quarters here for the first two years of so, while the initial preparations are made.

'Two years?' Hepteidon ejaculated.

'At the minimum. How long do you think it takes to send orders around the Empire? Six months, then six months for the usual stupid questions to come back and then another six months to send blistering replies telling them to get off their arses.'

Hepteidon looked down at the Emperor.

'That's not the way to do it.'

'How, then?'

'How long did it take news of the Miracle of the North to get round? A month? That's how it's done. One symbol and one phrase.'

'All right. Yellow. I can understand your point. What's the phrase?'

The An-Akar.

'What? The Door of... Is it Shadows? That doesn't make sense. And the Door of the Invisible makes even less.'

'No,' Hepteidon said irritably, reminded of something else. 'The Door of Death, or the Gate of Death.'

'What? That's a bit strong, isn't it? No one's going to fall for that.'

'Wait and see.'

The Emperor thought again, gazing absently at Little Ki's breasts. He beat the side of his nose with a finger.

'I can see now. Yes. I'm beginning to see what you're getting at. Suicide. Organised mass suicide.'

'Crudely put.'

'Perhaps. But apt. I have my own talents. Right!' The Emperor suddenly looked busy. 'Let's to it. What sort of Decree? Oh, I better give you the power to promote people and give some level of ranking. Come on!'

He led them down to Hsin's table, Little Ki quickly getting into step with Hepteidon, so that she remained under his arm.

The Emperor was scribbling furiously. He looked up after a while.

'There. You're now the Grand Duke of the North. Rights to, oh, I forget already, but it's a large amount of land. You'll be provided with administration, housing and that. By the way, where'll your capital be?'

'Ka-La-Tlu.'

'Where's that?'

'It's only about a year old. But it's the most central.'

'Right. Detail that to the administration people who'll be sent over to you tomorrow.'

Again the Emperor scribbled, talking as he did.

'This'll give you command of the Army. Organise it as you will.' He looked up. 'I trust you, Hepteidon. I really do believe you don't want to be Emperor.'

About to hand him the document, he stopped and said. 'We'll need copies of these.' He jumped up, went across the room and bellowed at the wall:

'Kenhartdu! Get the scribes out of bed and come up here. Jump!'

He came back and started scribbling again.

'Don't worry, all these'll be ready before you leave.' He looked up. 'But it'll have to be soon. It's almost dawn. You've got to get those soldiers off the streets.' He finished writing. 'Listen, Hepteidon, I've worked up the three main Decrees. Here, this is for the Army, this is for the Duchy, Grand Duchy, that is, it's so long since there's been one, and this makes you my son.'

He stood up and rubbed his brow. He glanced with surprise at his fingertips, finding them dry, and looked over at the open window:

'Do you know, Hepteidon?' Then he paused, his face lightening. 'I forgot, you're my son now.' He caught Hepteidon in a massive bear hug, pushing Little Ki away, and swung him around. Then he held him at arm's length and said, 'You'd better kiss your father.'

Hepteidon looked very closely at the Emperor, then leaned forward and tentatively kissed one cheek. The Emperor immediately swung his head and pressed his other cheek against Hepteidon's lips.

'There! You'll get used to it. I'll have to as well.'

There was a knock and the Chamberlain came in. He gaped at the sight of the Emperor with his hands on Hepteidon's shoulders, Hepteidon naked and Little Ki rubbing herself against him.

'Ah, Kenhartdu. Be the first to congratulate us, seeing that Little Ki hasn't the time. Hepteidon's got a new father and I have a new son.'

The Chamberlain gulped once and put on a face, replying smoothly.

'My heartiest congratulations, Your Imperial Majesty, and you, my Lord Hepteidon.'

The Emperor clasped Hepteidon's shoulders with one arm, while Hepteidon could only manage a wooden smile.

Then the Emperor raised the three Decrees into the Chamberlain's vision.

'Get copies of these, will you. Quickly.'

The Chamberlain grabbed the documents and hurried out.

'Now, is there anything else at the moment?' the Emperor muttered as he stepped away.

Little Ki got under Hepteidon's arm again.

'Do you know what it is, Hepteidon, _my son?_ ' The Emperor beamed. 'You're right about this pageant or whatever. It'll give us all something to do. I've not been so busy for over four years.'

Quite suddenly, he was serious.

'It's awful to contemplate, Hepteidon. But I think you are right.'

He sniffed.

'You do a great thing for mankind, do you know that? I won't ask why, perhaps some day you'll tell me. But, still, it's a good thing in itself.'

He ran over and kissed Hepteidon on both cheeks, and then bent to Little Ki and kissed her cheeks.

'Now, you both better get dressed. Oh, do you have any clothes, Little Ki?'

'I can't go out of doors in it,' she sniffed.

'Of course, of course. Here. Wrap yourself in this cloak. Hepteidon'll get you something. Won't you, son?'

Hepteidon nodded from the bed and then slid his robe over his head.

By the time Little Ki had wrapped up, which made her look even more provocative, the Chamberlain had reappeared.

'Give the originals to Hepteidon, Kenhartdu. And stay here. There's a lot to be done.'

Hepteidon stared at the pieces of parchment in a stupor, asking over and over, could it have been done in any other way?

The more he thought about it, the more he saw that it couldn't.

The Emperor began to cry as they left, continually kissing both Hepteidon and Little Ki, explaining that he had not realised how lonely and cut off he had been.

At the door he said to them both:

'I am so sorry about Hsin.' Then to Hepteidon, 'Thank you for letting me go on being Emperor.' After them on the stairs he called.

'Don't forget the soldiers, Hepteidon, _my son._ We don't want a scandal.'

# Part Two: Ka-La-Tlu

Chapter Eight

He's actually entered his illusion, despite my warning!

'...And he did exactly as he promised, Pol-Chi. He had the whole bureaucracy put on to the project. Hundreds of administrators, thousands of clerks and copyists. There were yellow flags everywhere, everyone wore yellow, ships coming in carrying nothing but yellow cloth and yellow dyeing materials. Even the Priesthood went over to yellow, pretending that yellow had always been the chief colour of the Goddess. Admittedly, it had been important among some orders of priests, but they dropped their counter-emphasis on blue.

'And it is amazing how quickly news of the Decrees spread. I was right there. Rumour doesn't wait for the bureaucracy to get moving. But the official instructions went out very quickly afterwards. Suddenly, ships were pouring in and out of the harbour, officials coming and going all the time, all dressed in yellow. _Father_ ' (Pol-Chi winced at Hepteidon's smug tone.) 'was at them day and night, marching around the offices shouting at everyone, calling the higher officials by the score up to the Keep for reports and conferences.

'Anyway, here we are. The whole Imperial Army is converging on this coast. They estimate that both Central Armies have finished landing and have moved inland. The Northwest Army arrived last week, up near the Ka-Sila. That's, oh, about three hundred and fifty thousand soldiers already. I'll have detailed maps for you soon, showing the planned disposition of the Armies through the various stages. You can mark them off as they come. Another thing which is of interest. These Northern tribesmen are arriving by the thousand. They bring their food in the form of huge herds of cattle! And as you might expect, the last Armies to arrive will be those of the East and Far South. But you should have them all here within the next two months.'

Hepteidon sat back, pressing his fingertips together. On either side of his upholstered chair stood large tables piled with parchment rolls. The walls were covered with maps, drawn by himself. Behind him hung the insignia of his rank, which also served as the emblem of the Invasion Army, a gate with seven horizontal bars and eight vertical bars crossing them, with the inscription 'La-Tlu', the Light of the North, across the top, and 'An-Akar', the Gate of Death, across the bottom. The background was pale yellow, the gate and lettering in gold.

He noticed Pol-Chi's glance over his head at the device.

'It's good, isn't it? Speaks volumes. The seven bars of the present Age crossing the eight bars symbolising the Coming Age. The gate signifies the crossing, as it were, from one Age to the other.' He leaned forward again. 'You see, Pol-Chi, it makes sense of what's happening. It tells us that there will be a future, and that gives meaning to our present.'

Pol-Chi nodded doubtfully.

He learned nothing. He's inventing symbols, not seeking them.

'But why did you have to make me the Lord, oh, the Grand High Lord of the Invasion Army. I'm only a Commander, Hepteidon. I don't know anything about leading whole armies.'

'Pol-Chi, you're the wisest man I know. You'll do a good job of it, I know that. I remember how you kept everyone united on that ship. Anyway, you'll have hundreds of senior officers. They'll do all the donkey work. They're used to it. Just tell them what to do, then tell them again, and then blister them. That's all. You have to learn that rank creates its own power of command. Wait till you see, when you go over to your headquarters – I'll take you over later – they'll be all over you, saluting and yes-my-lording till you're sick of it.'

'It was a great shock in any case, Hepteidon. I thought that I had effectively retired. I couldn't see what role the military could have, except a rather futile attempt at maintaining order when the real panic starts. I had settled down with my family to work my land. You know that trade has almost ceased – if it wasn't for this Invasion Army, the, what do you call it? The Force of the An-Akar, the _Hu-An-Akar_ , every ship in the Empire would be rotting in some port or other. So we have to be self-sufficient in the homeland.

'Anyway, when I saw the ship with yellow sails coming, I knew something was up. Suddenly we had to pack up and come here. That was fair enough; I understood. But when the priest read me your letter and all those Decrees and Orders, and soldiers arrived with new uniforms and insignia, I thought you had gone too far.'

Pol-Chi leaned forward earnestly.

'Look, Hepteidon, it can't be the same as before. Too many things have changed.'

Hepteidon tossed his long black hair with the self-regard Pol-Chi had seen in him before, and he suddenly understood:

This is how he controls his terror now!

'Pol-Chi, you don't have to take it all so much to heart. For my part, I wanted a second-in-command whom I knew and trusted. You have all the qualities I need in my Grand High Lord. You're conscientious, with a developed sense of duty. You inspire loyalty because you care about those under you. I've seen all this in you. You'll make sure the soldiers have what they need, you'll keep them united. And another thing, though I'm not sure I can express this well. You have a certain, eh, detachment. It gives you a power of...well, of objectivity, that I admire very much. In fact, you'll keep us all on the right road. Look, Pol-Chi, I'm no fool. I know the complexities of this whole thing. You just can't land five or six million men on a barren coast, with arms and supplies, without a lot of careful management. You see? It's for this reason that I made you my second-in-command.

'Now, just be a good soldier and obey orders, will you?'

Again Hepteidon lay back and again he pressed his fingertips together, looking down at them with careful regard.

Pol-Chi moved in his chair and looked out the window at the clear blue sky, signalling that he wanted to think.

Who is he imitating? It must be the Emperor. Then?

Of course! Will! He's made the whole thing up in his head. But he's obviously persuaded people to follow it, So it must chime somewhere.

But why me?

It can't be –

He thinks I'll work a miracle here!

He thinks he's working a Holy Operation! It's all magic!

He simply doesn't understand anything of what he's about.

'You must think I'm some kind of magician, Hepteidon.'

When Hepteidon started and threw him a sharp, sly glance, Pol-Chi knew he was right. But he covered himself by making the remark appear rhetorical:

'I mean, organisation like this merely requires a lot of hard work by a lot of experienced men. You should have appointed the most senior Army Lord. You know there'll be a lot of resentment on their part because some junior officer has been promoted over their heads.'

The ploy seemed to work, for Hepteidon relaxed and smiled easily.

'Oh, that. Don't worry about it. I've already spoken to them and explained my action. They appreciate that you'll need time to get used to the responsibility and they've promised to help you along. What more can you ask for, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi slumped in his chair. Of all the things to tell them! They'll simply treat me as a figurehead, the Grand Duke's best friend, who has to be given a decent cut of the spoils. They'll never take me seriously.

'We'll see, Hepteidon. It'll take time to get to know them individually and work out some arrangement. But I'll let you know how things go.'

He got up and went to the window, no longer able to contain his curiosity. He stepped out on to the little wooden balcony on the top floor of the Central Tower of the Ka-La-Tlu. The strange, incredible joy moved in him again as he saw the beautiful green carpet of grass that stretched across the countryside beyond the remains of the forest. When he had first seen it from the ship, a few days ago further down the coast, he could not believe his eyes. The Grasslands were transformed from the harsh desiccation of his last experience to a lush mantle of the brightest green imaginable, as cool as...

Green grass is my love,

new life unfurled;

Laid out on me, love,

mantling my world.

Pol-Chi nodded. It was a new thing. Each year this happens. Each year, like some miracle – a reminder of something:

That everything is always beginning, even as it ends.

But the fort has become a citadel. The last time there were only ten soldiers of honour at the gate and nothing else. Now it's jammed with men, horses, carts, stacks of weapons, sacks and jars of food. It's chaotic.

Beyond the stockade, a town of raw wood and dusty tracks stretched down to a bridge over the river. On the other side, the sprawling town pushed back the forest, lining the river down to the beach.

Ships crammed into the little bay, canoes and rafts unloading around them. All along the coast there were ships anchored off the beaches. Pol-Chi could see the dots on the beaches, men working the ships. Inland there were clusters of buildings at random everywhere, brown scars of track ways criss-crossing the sward. The air was hazed with the smoke of thousands of fires.

Hepteidon came out and stood beside him.

'What are you thinking of, my friend?'

'Oh, the last time I was here. It's hard to believe that we built this fort and that there was nothing here then.'

Hepteidon looked out, squinting against the bright sunlight.

'But it's good to see all this activity, Pol-Chi. It's less lonely and still now.'

'Perhaps. But it seems chaotic.'

'They do the best they can under the circumstances, Pol-Chi. There's a lot to be done, and done quickly.'

He lets himself be led: his whole scheme is only as deep as a colour and a slogan.

'No, Hepteidon. All this should have been organised from the beginning. It's too haphazard and it'll take far longer than necessary to move all these men and materials.'

He just can't see the pointlessness of it all! These millions merely try to keep ahead of their fear.

'Well, Pol-Chi, I'm sure you'll do what you can to organise it. That's what you're here for.'

Pol-Chi nodded sceptically and went inside. When Hepteidon came in, he said to him:

'Have you noticed anything, Hepteidon? Very few wives or families accompany the soldiers. Permission was granted, seeing that it's a long campaign. In fact, except for the obvious types, civilians generally have shown no interest in the invasion.'

Hepteidon looked at the insignia.

'What do you mean by "obvious types"? We seem to be getting the right kind of man for the Army.'

'Perhaps from the point of view of a war. I mean, they're the usual kind, the ones who can't settle into ordinary life; restless, violent braggards. But this is not a war, Hepteidon. You intend it to perform a deeper function, don't you?'

Hepteidon smirked with a tight bitterness.

'I suppose it's because the thing is centred on the military. So it seems like a war effort. But that was the only way of organising it. There's no other structure in the Empire.'

'What about the Priesthood? You are, or were, a priest. Why didn't you go to the Priesthood?'

Hepteidon sat down and studied the rug under his feet. His insignia had been patterned in it.

'It's strange, Pol-Chi. I never once considered going to the Priesthood. But as it is, its totally behind us now.'

'But what did the Emperor have that the priesthood lacked? Not organisation, anyway.'

'You said you didn't trust the Priesthood, didn't you? You said they refused to recognise the truth. Now, I think they're hiding behind us, still avoiding the truth.'

'What truth, Hepteidon?'

'You know, Pol-Chi. Don't ask me to explain it. I have to trust that what I do here conforms to that truth.'

'I don't understand that. How are you conforming to a truth which the priesthood avoids?'

'No, Wait. I didn't say that, Pol-Chi. I'm talking about... about two truths. About what is the case, and about what we should do in the face of what is the case.'

'Ah. I'm not trying to trip you up, Hepteidon. Believe me. So you are erecting or establishing a truth, as it were, which acts or protects against something present in reality, the fear.'

Hepteidon nodded and gave Pol-Chi a glance of gratitude.

'Yes. That's it precisely, Pol-Chi. You phrase it rather brilliantly.'

Pol-Chi blinked.

'But, Hepteidon, how do you know that you are handling, as it were, the appropriate truth?'

Hepteidon squirmed a little.

'Because I trust it. And because it seems to work. Look, Pol-Chi, I know all this amuses you. You're lucky, you don't seem to need a defence against this terrible fear. But others do. And this symbolism seems to work. I admit that not everyone in the Empire is directly involved in the Invasion itself. But they have taken up the symbols. That's clear even to you. You probably saw it happen in your homeland. I know it's happening all over the Empire, and I've seen it in Ka-Ra and in some of the other cities and regions on the way here. Everyone wears some yellow, and many people have placed the An-Akar emblem in their homes or wear it as an amulet. Now, you can't gainsay that.'

Pol-Chi bowed his head to the force of the argument. He suddenly felt alone.

People did need this particular symbol. Have I been wrong then to believe in a flux of symbols – of symbols as questions rather than as answers?

'But there's something fatalistic about it, Hepteidon. If you keep the fear at bay like this, at a distance, then you'll never come to understand it.'

'Understand? There's nothing to understand about the fear! You experience it and you know it exists.'

'But it can be understood, Hepteidon. It is a kind of darkness. If you...'

'Oh, don't start that mystery stuff again, Pol-Chi!' Hepteidon was suddenly defensive and livid. 'It gets you there,' he thumped his heart, 'and reduces you to...to a nothing!'

Pol-Chi spoke gently:

'Exactly, Hepteidon. It's a darkness or a nothing. But if you enter it, you can learn to live in it, not simply against it. That's how Korkungal did it.'

Hepteidon's sneer surprised Pol-Chi.

'Korkungal wasn't much of an example, was he? He was a violent maniac, like all these barbarians. And when he wasn't killing, he was swilling and whoring.'

'Hepteidon!' Pol-Chi shouted in shock. 'You know well that he didn't instigate any of those fights. You, for instance, attacked him with a knife while he was unarmed. But that's not particularly important...'

'Not important! Look what he did to me!' Hepteidon stood up in his agitation, looking both violent and vulnerable.

'Come on, Hepteidon. You brought that on yourself.'

Hepteidon suddenly leaned over Pol-Chi, shouting into his face:

'That's not the point! It's what he did to me that counts.'

Pol-Chi stopped himself from moving away:

'Did you kill him, Hepteidon?'

'Of course not!' Hepteidon spun on his heels and went to the window, arms folded on his chest.

'It doesn't really matter who killed him, Hepteidon.' Pol-Chi maintained the gentle tone. 'I think he wanted release anyway. But the important point about Korkungal is this: Hepteidon, he was happy. Can you see that? He lived with his fear and yet he was happy. He was blithely happy.'

Hepteidon shook his head:

'It's easy to please the simple-minded.'

Pol-Chi sighed. There's no point in pressing him.

He stood up noisily.

'I'll go down and see the others, Hepteidon. I'm sorry to have upset you. You do as you think best. Perhaps it does serve a purpose.'

He was weary and indifferent.

It's all going to end in panic and destruction anyway. The fear is eating them all up.

When he got to the door, Hepteidon called out. 'Wait, Pol-Chi.'

He was interlacing his fingers repeatedly, looking down at them.

'Look. I'm committed to this. I admit it's gone over my head. The sheer scale of the whole thing is overwhelming. But see it as I see it: It's got to be done. Perhaps I did expect you to take control of it the way you took control of that thing on the ship. But if you won't or can't, then I'll do the best I can.'

He is doing something he doesn't even believe in. That's why he wants me to run it. He thinks I believe in magic or mystery.

What does he really desire?

Not death. Not power.

What?

Hepteidon pulled his fingers apart and hurried to one of the tables. He took up a small roll and proffered it.

'But do me one favour, Pol-Chi. Please. Will you read this? I've been working on it for a long time. I've really written it for you. I want to explain to you, to someone, what it is I think I am doing. Will you read it?'

'But I cannot read, Hepteidon.'

'Oh, I know that. It's somewhat personal. Get your priest to read it to you. Or I'll give you a man I trust.'

'My priest will do it. He's really a secretary now.'

'Then you'll read it?'

'Of course. Do you want me to comment on it in writing?'

'No, no. But if you feel like discussing it, I'd be grateful.'

Pol-Chi accepted the roil. He tipped it open and saw that the writing was small.

'There's a lot of work in this...'

A piercing scream came from the lower floor of the tower, then a shout, followed by a series of screams.

Hepteidon threw his eyes up and grunted.

'Not again!'

And ran past Pol-Chi and on to the stairs, shouting as loudly as he could:

'Stop! Stop it!'

Pol-Chi paused, tapping the roll against his chest, debating whether to follow or not. Was it a sign of general disorder or something more personal?

He was curious.

Two floors down, he saw Hepteidon at the far end of a room, apparently forcing someone against the wall, shouting with weary anger:

'Be quiet, will you! Shut up or I will hit you!'

Standing hesitantly in the doorway, he saw a movement in the corner of his eye and turned.

'Uöos!

The storyteller's appearance shocked Pol-Chi. Where Hepteidon had seemed a mixture of superficial sophistication and deep uncertainty, Uöos appeared wan and drained. But he smiled widely when he saw Pol-Chi and hurried over to kiss him in greeting.

'How are you, old man?'

The question was a formality and Uöos only shrugged and looked over at Hepteidon, who was now pulling the figure across the room.

At first, Pol-Chi thought it was a very fat and squat black-skinned woman, perhaps the wife or concubine of a soldier. Then he saw that she was very young and possessed a grotesquely over-developed body, which the loose robe could not obscure.

'I'm sorry, Uöos. I really did think it wouldn't happen again after I had spoken to her. But you can't really blame her. She can't control her jealousy.'

Pol-Chi looked from Hepteidon to Uöos and back again. The girl had a surly expression on her strong, broad face. While she did not try to pull away from Hepteidon's grasp, she stared balefully at Uöos.

'Even so, Hepteidon. You'll have to do something positive. She might injure the child.' Uöos spoke with a weariness very similar to Hepteidon's.

'Yes, I know that, Uöos. I'll see what can be done. Oh, Pol-Chi, this is Little Ki.' Hepteidon gave the girl a warning stare, 'Quieten down now, will you', and let her go.

She began to rub her wrist, where Hepteidon had held her, transferring her gaze to Pol-Chi.

Then she ogled him.

Pol-Chi had to control his laughter. Instead, smiling, he said to Uöos:

'What's the problem?'

Hepteidon hastened to answer:

'It's Sora's baby. Little Ki is jealous and tries to steal him.'

'She'd better get one of her own,' Uöos said, provoking Hepteidon.

'Well, you refuse to do it, Uöos. So don't bring that up.' He paused. 'Would you, Pol-Chi?'

'Would I what?'

'Give her a child.'

Pol-Chi looked at the girl. She was obviously trained to show herself off.

A Merura pet! He had heard of them. 'Who is she, Hepteidon?'

'My father gave her to me. She wanted me to kill him, so she had to go.' He looked at Uöos. 'I know she's vicious. But that's the way she's been reared. She only understands two things.' Now he included Pol-Chi in his audience. 'She's been specially bred by the Emperor for her beauty and trained to respond instantly to any sexual suggestion. Otherwise, she behaves like an animal sometimes. She tried to kill me the first time I met her.'

'Why didn't you, Uöos?' Pol-Chi asked. The girl had also been trained to provoke men.

Hepteidon interjected: 'Sora's put out because she's here. She doesn't like having a rival.' His tone taunted Uöos.

'You know she's just a troublemaker, Hepteidon. You ought to give her to the soldiers.'

'She's not a whore, Uöos!'

Pol-Chi saw Uöos control his temper. He stopped him as he made to leave.

'Wait, Uöos.' He turned to Hepteidon. 'What I don't understand, Hepteidon, is why you, with all respects, brought her with you. I mean, is she your concubine, otherwise?'

The smirk on the girl's face answered him.

'My father gave her into my care. I can't just dump her.'

What's the Emperor playing at?

'You say she nearly killed you when you first met. What happened?'

Hepteidon looked at the girl and then around the room. 'My father offered her to me. You see, she's very provocative, and she was just lying on the bed naked. But she thought I was attacking her, the Emperor pushed me, you see, and I fell against her. She's strong and she put up a fight. But she was only defending herself.'

Only defending herself. Yet he wouldn't allow that of Korkungal.

Is he infatuated or is she a sign of Imperial favour?

'So you didn't couple that time?'

'No. There were more important things to do.'

'And since then? Oh, I know you can perform with the best of them.'

'Not often, Pol-Chi. I've an awful lot to do here.'

Pol-Chi made to turn away, drawing Uöos with him.

'Well, then, Hepteidon, do it more often. She's obviously used to continuous attention. She's yours. You'll have to satisfy her or give her to someone who will.'

'You? Do you mean you?'

'I'm not interested.'

The girl came at Pol-Chi with fingers out, aimed at his face. Hepteidon lunged but missed.

Pol-Chi took two paces back to throw the girl's aim off, then one forward. His fist cut under her left arm into the side of her stomach. Her weight carried her on forward, but the force of the punch drove her off diagonally. Uöos sidestepped in time and she collided with the door jamb. As she staggered away, Pol-Chi caught her shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her towards Hepteidon.

'Get her under control, Hepteidon!' Pol-Chi barked, panting. 'If she goes near the baby again, I'll give her to the soldiers in the interior. She's trained to cope with that kind of thing.'

Hepteidon steadied the girl and blazed at Pol-Chi:

'Don't give me orders, Pol-Chi! I'll do what's best.'

Pol-Chi firmed himself, seeing the Merura with his specially bred black-skinned pet. He struggled between pity and anger.

'I'm responsible for policing this region, Grand Duke.' He pointed. 'She comes under my jurisdiction in public matters.'

He looked at the crushed roll in his left hand, renewed his grip on it, still panting lightly, and marched down the stairs.

Chapter Nine

'It's as well you don't carry a sword, _Grand High Lord,_ ' Uöos said facetiously behind his back on the stairs.

'I only defend myself,' Pol-Chi replied, grinning back up. 'Anyway, they usually went for Korkungal fully armed.'

'Indeed. But be careful, poet. There's a funny bond between them.'

'I saw that. Your manner confirmed it, old storyteller.' On the next landing Pol-Chi waited for Uöos. The old man looked brighter now. Pol-Chi threw his arms about him, deliberately crushing his thin shoulders, feeling happy relief.

Then he asked, with unfeigned concern:

'Where's Sora?'

Uöos looked at Pol-Chi intently, then smiled hugely.

'Ah, Pol-Chi, it is good to see you again. We thought you'd never come. Come on.'

Pol-Chi was momentarily surprised by the fact that they left the tower and went out into the sun, crossing among men and horses, ducking around carts and pack mules, avoiding random stacks of equipment and food.

At the entrance to the administrative building Uöos paused and looked back at the high wooden tower.

'It's his Keep, like the Imperial Keep in Ka-Ra. When he forgets himself, he refers to it as his Keep.'

Pol-Chi looked up, identifying Hepteidon's office at the top.

'Why not, I suppose?'

Uöos led the way into the gloomy corridor.

'It's just so empty, Pol-Chi. 'He sits up there and really does nothing. He gives no orders now because he doesn't know what orders to give.'

'That's why I'm here.'

'Well, I'm glad of it. The atmosphere here is empty, aimless. Left to the Grand Duke, we'd all rot on this shore. In here.'

There was sunlight in the room. Sora stood up from the boy sitting on the floor.

'Hello, Sora.'

He was surprised by the light in her face. 'Pol-Chi! At last!'

He pushed Hepteidon's roll into his belt, took her hands in his, looked at her with fascination, then kissed her hands. Only then did it hit him:

'You speak now, Sora?'

'She has to, because of the child,' Uöos answered. 'But only to me. And now, obviously, to you too.'

Uöos looked very happy.

Pol-Chi discovered he was embarrassed by the light in Sora's face. He let her hands go and hunkered to the child.

'What have you called him, Sora?'

'He has no name yet.'

'Why not? He's about a year old.'

'You're to name him,' Uöos interjected. 'That's what Sora says. You'd better discuss it with her. I'll get you something to eat.'

When Uöos left the room, Pol-Chi stood up and touched Sora's cheek.

She seemed just as unsure of herself.

'You've put on weight, Sora.'

'And there's grey in your hair, Pol-Chi.'

'But you look young and fresh, Sora.'

Like grass.

'And you look commanding, Pol-Chi.'

'But you are lovely, Sora.'

'And you are beautiful, poet.'

Pol-Chi threw his arms about her, knowing that he had given way to praise first. She clutched him once and then released herself.

'Why must I name the child?'

He looked down at the boy. He had Sora's brown skin and Korkungal's big boned features.

'Korkungal?'

Sora nodded.

'Did he not give you a name for him?'

'He said you would.'

'Did he, then? Such flattery.' Pol-Chi laughed, flattered. He picked the child up. The little boy regarded him gravely, looked ready to struggle, then settled down.

'He likes you, Pol-Chi.'

'Perhaps. No clash of wills yet.' He pinched the boy's chin. He creased his eyes and his cheeks dimpled. His brown eyes were serious, though.

Conceived in Darkness, born in the North. Suddenly he asked Sora:

'Is there really a significance here?'

Sora merely smiled, her face assuming the remote allurement of Sora the Silent.

Pol-Chi's hackles stirred.

Who am I to name this child?

Who else, poet?

You.

Who gave birth to it?

'Sora, come back.' He entreated her with his eyes.

She mellowed and grew pleasant and rounded.

'You will think of a name, Pol-Chi. You will see.'

'Yes, Sora. He was conceived in Darkness, and born in the North.'

She started and seemed to look into him.

'I told you,' she said simply and then motioned him to sit.

Uöos brought meat and beer.

'What name will it be, poet?'

'I don't know yet. I haven't had much time to think about it.'

'It'll be a relief when you do. Calling him "boy" is not very close, is it.'

Pol-Chi put the child down and took a plate and a bowl. Sora refused the beer. Uöos sat facing them, on the floor.

'Well, now, poet, what have you to tell us?' he asked.

'A quiet life, Uöos. Farming.' Suddenly loneliness swept through him. 'My wife refused to come, even though she knew I might never see her again,' he found himself saying, tears pricking his eyes.

Sora and Uöos became very quiet; even the child looked up with a serious concern.

'Forgive me, both of you. And you,' Pol-Chi added, noticing the child's gaze. The boy immediately smiled, showing Korkungal's easy humour.

'No, no,' Uöos said quickly. 'Talk if you want to. We are your friends, after all.'

'Thank you. I will, as you allow it, because I have brooded about it.'

'A soldier is often separated from his wife and family. That's part of his life. My wife has always borne the separations well. This time it was different. I think she knew I wouldn't come back. She wasn't so much unhappy as, well, empty, as though she saw that there wouldn't be anything to come back to. But I've noticed that among others when the time came to leave the homeland. It's as though all bonds between men, and between men and woman, have dissolved. It's as though love were being sucked out of the world.

Because Uöos was nodding slowly, Pol-Chi stopped talking.

'Hepteidon said something like that in Ka-Ra, that all bonds were broken by the fear, and men were made free.'

Free? Pol-Chi's mind leaped up. Hepteidon calls the death of love freedom?

'What kind of freedom is it, Uöos, which replaces love?'

He felt Sora jerk beside him. He looked at her with surprise, but she kept her face averted.

'But, Pol-Chi, freedom merely means "undirected". Perhaps Hepteidon refers to the condition produced by fear.'

'How, Uöos? What's the point in being free if you can't act?'

'Ha. I see what you are getting at. The Invasion is not an act of freedom.'

'No. It's an act of pure will. An act of control, of slavery. But how could Hepteidon come so close to the truth and yet act so falsely?'

'What truth, poet?' Sora asked the question with her eyes, too.

'Why, that this fear makes men aware of their freedom.' Pol-Chi hit his knee with his bowl, slopping beer. 'That's it! Of course. Hepteidon believes that fear _makes_ men free. That's why he's reacted as he has. He thinks the fear forces men into a dangerous situation, that of freedom. No wonder the Emperor was willing to let him undertake this invasion. It secures, and strengthens, the domination of a single symbol in the whole Empire. Any symbol will serve the Emperor's purpose, hence he switched to Hepteidon.'

'But, look here, Uöos. I've just realised something else. Why did the Emperor give Hepteidon his little pet? He accepted Hepteidon's symbol as his own, for the Armies still do the Emperor's bidding, not Hepteidon's. In its place, Hepteidon is given the pet to control. Did the Emperor know of Hepteidon's condition? Wait! That wouldn't be necessary. He would have easily recognised the asceticism in Hepteidon. So he's given charge of a creature that he cannot possibly control _._

'The Emperor has a use for this army that being collected here! What it is, I don't know, unless it is for an actual invasion.'

Uöos stirred.

'That's very interesting, Pol-Chi. But it's of no interest to us. Go on about freedom.'

About to speak, Pol-Chi realised what Uöos had said first.

'Why is it of no interest to us?'

Uöos looked at Sora and then said:

'You're not staying here until the end, are you?'

Pol-Chi looked from Uöos to Sora.

'No. But what do you mean? The two of you, what have you planned?'

Sora answered:

'We want you to come with us, Pol-Chi.'

'Where?'

'Where we will be safe. But there is time yet.'

Uöos spoke with a surprising command:

'No more questions, poet. Go on about freedom. That interests us.'

Pol-Chi again felt his hackles move. His sudden agitation was stilled by Sora's hand upon his thigh.

'Go on, poet.'

'Very well. As I said, Hepteidon believes that the fear forces men to be free. In reaction he seeks a new kind of slavery. But what he doesn't understand is that this fear is not new. Admittedly, the presence of the star has brought the fear to the surface, and perhaps in some it has created a reactive fear. Perhaps those men who have come to join the Invasion Army are those. And the women who have come to be with the soldiers, either as wives, concubines, or whores – forgive me, Sora – may also possess this fear. But what the star has actually done is to overwhelm the everyday preoccupations of people, so that the one abiding thing in them is exposed. It comes like a great fear. It seems to be, as I told Hepteidon earlier, like a Darkness, or as he said, it makes men feel like nothing.

'To be conscious of this fear is to be conscious of the freedom in you. I don't say "your freedom", for I'm not sure it is strictly personal. But that is because of how I react to it. In Korkungal's case, on the other hand, he seems to have discovered this freedom, or as he said, or as you, Uöos, expressed it to him, this Darkness. You expressed it very aptly for him, you know, when you called him the Darkness in the Dark. He understood it and it made him very happy once he understood it.'

'That's true,' Uöos agreed, and Sora nodded beside him.

'And I suppose it was his sense of alienation in the Ka-Bil that opened him up to the fear. And his feeling of being dead seems to imply that. However, what my wife made me aware of was that the fear seems to have led to a death of affection and love. So many soldiers embarked alone, where usually all the wives and concubines, and children, would have come down to the ships. It was very, very sad. It was as though a whole people had died. Perhaps the whole world is dying in the same way.'

'Yes. It's a good image, poet,' Uöos said. 'And yet the fear makes them apathetic, doesn't it? They can't seem to get beyond it.'

'Perhaps because they seek, like Hepteidon, to place some symbol in opposition to fear, instead of using symbols to question it. I should have realised the danger when he said that man needed no symbols, because he actually reduced men to symbols when he said that. I thought, as you did then, Uöos. that Hepteidon wanted to turn man into a god. There might be some truth in that, in your sense of him trying to act as though he were a god. Here I see the Priesthood's interest in the An-Akar, because they hope to turn it into a new religion. After all, religion is the result of man's attempt to project a divinity into their experience. But I still think there is some truth in it from another point of view. One of the first insights I had into Hepteidon's nature was that he wanted, desired a new god to protect him from his fear. I think now that Hepteidon will try to turn some man into that god. If he cannot find someone, then he'll try to turn himself into that god. Can you see that?

'Then there is the belief in the Beast, though I've not heard much of that recently. Perhaps the An-Akar has deflected those thoughts for the moment. But once panic starts and his symbol collapses, I think Hepteidon will, as a counterbalance to his desire for his god, project the image, symbol, of the Beast on to someone. And if most people behave like him, I can't see how they can get beyond these fixed ideas which either oppose or project their fear.'

Pol-Chi became aware that the sun was setting and the room darkening.

'I'm afraid I've gone on for a long time. But I don't mean to bore you with my thoughts.'

Uöos stirred and the effect was to bring him closer to them. Sora bent down and brought the child up on to her lap.

'But go on, poet,' Uöos said. 'It's a long time since we heard you speak. It's very pleasant to listen to you.'

Pol-Chi hesitated, wondering what he should say. He was unwilling to continue talking about Hepteidon and the Empire. It was fast becoming irrelevant.

Sora had opened the front of her gown and freed her left breast. The child grasped it gently as he suckled.

Uöos waited until Pol-Chi turned back to him before prompting:

'Tell us how you respond to the fear, poet. We could learn from that.'

'How I respond?' Pol-Chi chuckled. 'I'm not sure I know. For a while I followed symbols in poetry. But they seemed to be confused with something else. Perhaps it was because of my reaction to fear. I thought of this a lot in the homeland. I'll speak plainly, Sora. I sought to escape fear through love. That love was given to me in complex ways. But I found such love impossible. I thought afterwards it was because love was just another symbol. I sought to question it, to exhaust it. When I discovered that love was impossible I thought I had exhausted it. But only recently did I see that love appeared to be impossible precisely because it actually involved the fear. So, I begin to suspect that love is not some kind of symbol or projection. It might actually be an aspect of the fear. In that case, rather than retreating from love out of the fear which it engenders, I should try to learn how to love.

'But I have only one clue and it seems to me to he contradictory. Speaking as a poet, love seems to require what I call silence. Yet love, on the contrary, seems to inspire the opposite; it, inspires a flow of language. On another level, it effects me like death, yet makes me more alive.

'But I can see beyond that in theory, as it were. The two aspects, silence and speech, death and life, must he combined in some way. But I don't know how to do it. In other words, love may always be impossible, though that doesn't prevent me from seeking it. So, while Korkungal seems to have achieved love by another route, I see myself in the position of knowing what love is without being able to experience it. Instead, I feel only pity where I should, perhaps, feel love.'

Sora's arm brushed Pol-Chi's constantly as she held the child to her breast. The warmth of the contact was comforting and it allowed him to speak openly.

There was silence when he finished. The room was dark, except for the flickering lights of the cook fires out in the fort.

Pol-Chi felt the cool freshness of the evening air. It filled him with gentle feeling and made him sigh. Then he felt sad. Then more:

Regretting the passing of the world is very painful. He felt utterly helpless. Then Uöos spoke in the dark at their feet:

'Is he asleep?'

Sora nodded mutely, looking down at her son.

'Then I will take him.'

Uöos moved cautiously in the gloom, stepping around their feet. They heard him sigh as he took the child.

'Will we keep him in here?' he whispered.

'Yes, if Pol-Chi does not mind.'

'I don't mind. It's pleasant to have a child near.'

Uöos crept away down the room, slightly bent under the weight of the child. Sora gently nudged him:

'Pol-Chi?'

'Yes, Sora?'

'Did your wife ever offer you her milk?'

'No,' he replied, surprised at the question.

'Will you take mine, then?'

'Sora!'

'Do, Pol-Chi. I would like you to.'

He felt her turn towards him. Surprise turned sour.

'I talk of love and I am offered mothering. Am I that faint-hearted, Sora?' He was surprised by his description of himself. But it struck a chord.

'Take it and see, poet.'

Sora commanded him!

Gingerly, he knelt down, and searched with his mouth and hand until he found her hand and was guided to the nipple. There was cooled milk in a dribble down the front of her breast, then the warm moistness of her nipple.

The contact with the nipple itself was erotic and his fingers moved gently to embrace her swollen breast. But she pressed herself to him and he felt the warm fatty fluid squirt against his teeth and tongue. He swallowed convulsively, gagging slightly. Her hand came about his head and held him steady.

'Drink, poet.'

He sucked, then suckled properly, working his whole mouth. The milk flowed obediently to his demand.

And then he simply suckled, seeing himself for an instant pulling on oars, the hiss of white sound under the ship.

And then he saw what made men calm:

They surrendered.

Pol-Chi surrendered here, feeling the emotion well up behind his eyes. He expanded, blinded. Aware of the warm, soft flesh between his lips and pressing his nose, he felt ready to burst and to go away.

When he withdrew his mouth, he felt Sora draw at him to remain. But he was panting, full of the heavy fluid, weak bodied. He relaxed in against her knees, his hands falling on to her thighs, his head drooping against her belly.

He seemed to drift in a doze for a time, then he heard Uöos chuckle softly behind him and say.

'She feeds us all, poet, eh?'

And he felt a quiver of pleasure flow up his body. Her hand, he discovered, was resting across his ear and face.

He turned and kissed it with a lingering contentment. She pressed it to his lips, folding it around his mouth.

Then Uöos held his shoulders and drew him, on his knees, a short distance to a pile of sleeping skins. He helped him take off his yellow tunic and lie down.

Weak as a baby, he heard as though at a great distance, a series of disconnected sounds of careful handling of soft things. Then there was warmth beside him, extending down his body. His land blindly encountered the warm flesh of a thigh, the tingle of pubic hair. Then he was covered by a skin and warmth enveloped him completely.

Chapter Ten

The weight was too great, crushing out his breath; then it was not. It moved on him.

The child lay across Pol-Chi, regarding him with curiosity. He tried to touch his eyes with two chubby fingers. When Pol-Chi blinked, the child instead grasped his nose tightly.

The room was bright, sunlight beginning to show in the window.

'You slept deeply, Pol-Chi.'

Uöos stood in the doorway, looking as though he, too, had slept deeply.

Now Pol-Chi grasped the child's nose between two fingers and pretended to twist it off. The child ducked back, more puzzled than alarmed. Then it slid down his body, legs held in readiness for contact with the floor. But when he reached Pol-Chi's gonads, he stopped and stared at them.

Pol-Chi suddenly laughed, his penis lolling and shivering between his legs, and the child looked up at him, the same look of quiet curiosity in his eyes.

'Soon you will have your own, little man,' Uöos cried, laughing too, coming to pick the boy up.

Feet padded in the corridor outside; a voice spoke insistently and plausibly.

Little Ki darted into the room, twisting to evade Sora's restraining hand.

Uöos carried the child deeper into the room, away from the girl, asking with a lack of welcome:

'What do you want now?'

She stared at the child in his arms for a moment, then turned and smiled reassuringly at Sora, then faced Pol-Chi, staring down at him with an expression of control.

'The Lord Hepteidon told me to come to you, Lord Pol-Chi, to say that I am sorry for insulting you yesterday.'

Pol-Chi rolled off the skin and stood and faced her with his hands by his sides. He gave the appearance of being relaxed.

'Thank you, and thank Lord Hepteidon for his consideration. However, I think you received sufficient punishment. But be more careful in future, for I promise you that I will not be so lenient. You may go now. You know that you are not welcome here.'

He went down to the bench and picked up his tunic. Little Ki spoke behind him.

'But, my Lord Pol-Chi, the Lord Hepteidon tells me that I should be a friend to you. He says that you are his friend, and it is for this reason that I should make amends and be friendly.'

Uöos stood near Pol-Chi, showing the strain of holding the child. He questioned Pol-Chi with his eyes, but Pol-Chi said to him when he had drawn his tunic over his head and down his body:

'The child is heavy, Uöos.' Then in a lower tone: 'He will be safe, I promise you.'

Uöos smiled weakly and put the child down at his feet with relief. The child immediately turned and looked up at Pol-Chi.

Facing about, Pol-Chi saw the same questioning look in Sora's eyes, standing behind the stocky girl by the door. But there was also an expression of resignation, a kind of suspense.

A cross-roads here. Then –

Sora believes she has done all she can to...

'That is a sensible policy, Little Ki. But it is wise if such friendship is expressed only in the presence of the Lord Hepteidon. It would not do to have any misunderstanding.'

The straining specious look faded from her face. She tightened her broad mouth and her shoulders slumped. Sullen, she seemed grotesque and overburdened.

Imperial pet! Her life is not her own.

The anger he felt turned until he found it directed against himself in an obscure way.

Who am I but a man bred for fighting?

The desperation he felt along with this realisation was compounded by Little Ki's reply.

'But, my Lord Pol-Chi, we are of the same race. There should be open friendship between us.'

'Did the Lord Hepteidon also tell you to say this?'

Her reply was frank, but it also contained a renewed appeal: 'Yes, my Lord Pol-Chi.'

She doesn't use her body. Why?

Hepteidon couldn't simply tell her to restrain herself like this, the training is too deep.

What is she afraid of here?

He glanced around and saw that it couldn't be either Uöos or Sora, for neither presented any resistance to her.

Is she afraid of me? But she has been beaten before, surely.

She wants something which is so important that it dominates all the instincts of her upbringing!

'Tell me, Little Ki, why do you want my friendship?'

He saw Sora turn slightly as though to leave. Little Ki jutted her head in a suppliant way, her large dark eyes gazing at him without definable expression.

She doesn't know why. But it's not based on kinship, anyway.

'I am afraid, my Lord Pol-Chi.' She suddenly shook her head, tears in her eyes. 'But I don't know why I am afraid.'

He could sense that Uöos had moved, trapped as he was in the corner with the child. Sora showed an instinctive response to the girl's sudden grief, and Pol-Chi saw that she felt threatened by it.

'But how can I be of use to you, girl? Your place is with the Lord Hepteidon.'

That drew her back on herself and she became tearfully sullen.

'You can take me with you, my Lord Pol-Chi.'

He saw than that her appeal paralleled Hepteidon's appeal to him. It is through her relationship with Hepteidon that she seeks friendship.

Does Hepteidon control this manoeuvre?

'But I go nowhere, Little Ki. In any case, as I have said, your place is with the Lord Hepteidon. You should not seek to cause scandal to him.'

She flared impatiently and for the first time she moved her body, subtly swinging her heavy breasts at him under the loose gown.

The density of the gesture shook Pol-Chi. He saw the great power of her.

The Emperor seems to give this power to all his minions.

'But you do go somewhere, my Lord. I have felt this.'

Hepteidon wants to abandon the An-Akar. Little Ki is aware of it.

Pol-Chi laughed, breaking through the tension in him.

'Where is there to go? We all have our duties here.'

She dropped her head, then darted a glance at Uöos, turning slightly so as to include Sora.

'You all go somewhere. I know it. But why do you exclude me? I want to go with you.'

There! She makes Hepteidon's appeal.

'Little Ki. We have our duty to our Emperor. His Will must be obeyed.'

The look of revulsion surprised Pol-Chi.

'The Empire? It has passed away. And the Emperor with it. Don't you know this, Lord Pol-Chi?'

Hepteidon's words: but will she betray this?

'That is treason, Little Ki. I can execute you for saying what you have said.'

'But it is what all the soldiers say, my Lord. I merely repeat it to you.'

'And what else do they say, Little Ki?'

'They say that they prepare for a miracle, my Lord Pol-Chi. They say that when everything is in order, there will first be a great storm, and then there will be a miracle.'

'How do you know this? You have no contact with the soldiers, do you?'

'I hear them speak to my Lord Hepteidon. He sometimes calls me to give them company and entertainment.'

Pol-Chi turned to Uöos.

'What do you know of this, Uöos?'

Uöos shrugged.

'They expect a repetition of the Miracle of the North, Pol-Chi.'

And that's why I've been brought here!

'But why, then, do you want to leave?'

'My Lord Hepteidon now says that you will not perform the miracle. He says that you want to go away with the woman and child.' She indicated Sora with a backward nod of her head. 'I want to go with you. I will serve you, too.'

'And what about the Lord Hepteidon, your master?'

Little Ki looked around her, from Uöos to Sora.

'I will tell you alone, my Lord.'

'Come and whisper it, then.'

She came to him and he bent his head. Whispering, she ensured that her breasts grazed his chest.

'He is not my master, for I only serve he who commands me. If you order me, Lord Pol-Chi, I will kill him while he sleeps.'

Pol-Chi nodded her away and went and sat down, signalling to Uöos to come over.

'Little Ki,' he said as formally as he could. 'I must think about what you have said. I will speak to you again. Go now.

He saw her clench her fists in disappointment, but he knew she would obey him, if only because she had compromised herself. To reinforce his dismissal of her, he turned to Uöos and whispered:

'Has she ever approached you in this way, Uöos?'

'No, Pol-Chi. She wants to commit herself to you.'

Pol-Chi nodded in agreement. Seeing that Little Ki had left, he beckoned to Sora.

'What do you think, Sora? Does she follow Hepteidon's instructions?

'In part, Pol-Chi. But not at the end. She is prepared to turn against him.' She gave him a faint and helpless smile. 'I think you have conquered her.'

Pol-Chi was relieved to hear Sora speak openly.

'Ah, Sora, she merely seeks the kind of master she is used to.'

He saw that Sora was reassured by this, though not convinced.

'Then perhaps it is wrong to refuse her.'

Uöos suddenly spoke.

'But he would have to move against Hepteidon.'

Pol-Chi laughed.

'But I don't want her. She is an Imperial pet. I want nothing to do with her.'

Uöos smiled at him.

'But she is determined, poet. She will work to convince you.'

'So she has seduced you, old man?'

'She had no need to, Pol-Chi. But she gives nothing but her body.'

Pol-Chi looked at Sora, who leaned towards them, her hands splayed on her knees to support her.

'And are you not jealous of her, Sora? Hepteidon says you are.'

'She has many charms,' she replied with level objectivity. 'Perhaps no man can resist her.'

'And can any man resist you, Sora?'

She straightened up, looked at her child, and smiled.

'But she covets your child, Sora.'

She went and picked up the boy.

'Perhaps she wants a child, Pol-Chi.'

'And you think I should give her one? Hepteidon has already suggested that.'

'Why not, Pol-Chi. It would cost you little.'

'But she is an Imperial pet. I am not an Imperial breeding bull.'

Uöos intervened gently.

'But we are outside the Empire now, Pol-Chi.'

Sora left the room, carrying the child. Pol-Chi stared after her.

'Uöos, do you really think I should do that? Remember, she wishes to betray Hepteidon. She may not be satisfied to couple for a child and then return to him.'

Uöos lay back against the wall and gazed up at the ceiling.

'There is that. So perhaps your policy is best. But one thing, Pol-Chi.'

Yes?'

'Don't think you will offend Sora by accepting the girl. She knows she has no claims on you.'

Pol-Chi laughed and shook his head.

'I make my own choices, old man.

Uöos dug him in the side.

'Indeed, poet. We all say that.' Then his tone changed. 'I forgot. I have your roll here. The child found it on the floor.'

The roll was badly crumpled. Pol-Chi took it.

'Hepteidon gave it to me to read. Can you read, Uöos? I cannot.'

'Do you want me to read it to you?'

'Yes, if you will. We can talk about it then.'

Uöos opened the roll and smoothed it on his knees. He squinted at it, raising it nearer his eyes.

The writing is very small.'

'Can you read it?'

'Yes, yes. Listen then, Pol-Chi:

' _These are the words of Hepteidon, Lord of Bas-Ku, once a priest, and now Grand Duke of the North and Instigator of the An-Akar. Know that I am in my heart the least of men, who does not know what he does._

After the Miracle of the North, in which a red star and then a yellow star danced in the heavens for the sake of men, I conceived of a Holy Plan. I claim inspiration for this conception, though I cannot prove it. This Plan is intended to save man, and of it I will speak with humility.

It is said that there are two powers in the universe, the Divine Power and the Power of Man. When there is harmony, the power of man obeys the Divine power. When there is discord, the power of man contends against the Divine power. Such contention always results in the victory of the Divine power and the destruction of man. This has happened many times, as I have learned.

Our histories are false, men of the Seventh Age. There have been many ages, and many different kinds of men have ruled this world. Each of them has contended with the Divine power and has been destroyed.

Why does man contend with the Gods? The priests say it is out of pride. But it is not so, and I will tell you why. It is true that man falls out of harmony with the Gods, but not out of pride – he does it out of fear and ignorance. In their fear, men forget the true Gods and create instead false Gods. Then, in his ignorance, he follows the dictates of these false Gods and thus sets out on the path to destruction.

You ask, why does man reappear on earth after each destruction? The answer I fear to write. I set it down here with humility and in trepidation. I ask you not to judge me hastily for this answer, but to think long and hard on the answer. I write it because I have found it to be the only possible answer.

The answer is this: There is but one power in the world. It is the power of man. Thus, the Divine power is really the True Power of man. They are the one power. It is man's fear of this truth which creates all the illusion and ignorance which beset man and lead him to attempt his own destruction, for he cannot face the truth and cannot live the lie.

Now, and I speak with the greatest humility, I act as though my answer were the true one. I construct the An-Akar in order to force all men to face the truth. I, too, will face the truth. Thus, I will know whether I am right or wrong.

I must speak honestly. I do not know how man will know the truth. I only have faith that he will. I do not even know how the An-Akar will operate, I can only say that it will present the truth. In presenting the truth, the An-Akar will present man to himself in his true form. I do not know what this form will be, neither can I even faintly conceive it.

But I believe that I, and all men, will recognise it once it is presented to us.

But I must continue to speak honestly, though now it pains me. Though I appear to write as a madman now, I must write this also.

In having presented my faith, I immediately doubt it. I cannot help this. Nor can I explain it. It is as though my utterance of faith is mirrored, so that I see its reverse in a reflection.

I do not know if this is the condition of all men, for some seem blithe in their faith and can face death with ease and acceptance. And I have seen other men, who are happy in their scepticism, and laugh joyfully at contradiction and paradox. And I have seen a few, who dwell in the paradox without relief.

Know, then, that I enact the An-Akar in faith, and that I enact it in cynicism.

But know also that I enact it out of necessity, for, true or false, man must take a hand in his own enlightenment. For, if we are Gods, then we should know it. If we are not Gods, then I say that the Gods have failed us. If we are Gods, then we will gain enlightenment. If we are only men, then we will spite the failure of our Gods. In either case, man must attempt the great act. He is either a God, or he is a Man. But he is not a Slave to be abandoned lightly.

I end by indicating something which my words have shown me. Man must be free, either as a God or as a Man, though I confess that I do not know what freedom is.

Reader, think charitably of me, for I seek to speak, not the truth, but in sincerity. As an ignorant and fearful man, I can know nothing better than this honesty.'

Pol-Chi stood up and said,

'Thank you, Uöos. Now, where can I get food? I have not eaten since last night.'

Uöos peered in the brightness of the room, his eyes watering from the effort of reading.

'I will get it for you. Or, if you wish, you could go to Sora.'

When Pol-Chi reached the door, Uöos called softly, 'Will you come back?'

'Yes, of course, I must think.'

He went down the corridor, nursing his stunned mind, and found Sora playing with the child in the sun outside the administration block, oblivious to the confusion around them.

'Sora, where can I get food?'

He hunkered and watched the child run his fingers through the dust until Sora returned with a bowl of fruit.

'Thank you.'

When she remained close to him, he realised that she wanted his company.

'Are you lonely, dear Sora?'

She looked around the fort before replying.

'No, Pol-Chi, I am not lonely.'

And he knew she was. But the loneliness was unspeakable.

'I still try to love you, lovely Sora. Forgive me.'

She looked at him without expression.

'And I still bring you love, Pol-Chi the poet. You do not require forgiveness.'

'Will we leave soon?'

'Are you afraid, Pol-Chi?'

'I don't know. Perhaps I am weary now. And confused.'

She touched his wrist.

'There is no need for weariness, poet. We all sustain you.'

She looked down at the child, her hand still resting on Pol-Chi's wrist.

'Sora, May I ask you a painful question? I'll tell you why afterwards.'

She nodded without looking at him.

'Did Hepteidon kill Korkungal? Do you know? I cannot see who else did it.'

Sora squeezed his wrist as though trying to maintain her balance.

'It doesn't matter, Pol-Chi. No revenge is needed.'

'It's not a question of revenge, Sora. If it were I would challenge him. It's something else. Uöos has just read Hepteidon's roll to me. What I can't understand now is why he had cause to kill him.'

'Perhaps he had then, Pol-Chi.'

'Then you do think he did it?'

'Uöos says no one else could have done it. Only Hepteidon is tall enough to have struck Korkungal as he was struck.'

'But the Savages?'

'Pol-Chi, you know Karusal risked his life to come to me. You saw his grief.'

'Why did he do it, Sora? Was he jealous?'

She looked at him now. He saw the unease.

'So there was jealousy. But why has he not tried to claim you, Sora?'

'Because I refuse him.'

'He tried?'

'In the North and in Ka-Ra.'

'Why didn't you tell me, Sora? I would have defended you. Don't you know that?'

She nodded.

'It is he who wants the child, Pol-Chi.'

Pol-Chi stood up, seeing the pieces failing into place.

'So he offers the pet to me so that I will no longer be a rival to him?'

Sora straightened up beside him, letting go his wrist as she did.

'You are not a rival, Pol-Chi. You know that.'

'But he sees me as a rival. But why does he want the child, Sora?'

'The Chosen.'

Pol-Chi remembered the ambiguity of his father, who looked for the Chosen without knowing whether he wanted to kill him or worship him.

'You are in danger, Sora. You and the child and perhaps Uöos. Hepteidon himself doesn't know why he wants you or the child.'

'There is always danger, Pol-Chi. Hepteidon will not kill me.'

'Perhaps. But if anything happened to you or the boy I will kill Hepteidon.'

She looked at him with unusual patience.

'Pol-Chi, there has been enough death. I know Korkungal killed in order to defend himself, but it was still killing.'

At the same time, he thought, I can't kill Hepteidon either.

Suddenly, he saw the pattern gather around him.

There is a Holy Operation!

And he saw his own part clearly:

I take Korkungal's p1ace.

He grabbed Sora's arm and turned her to face him.

'Why did Hepteidon kill Korkungal? I've got to know.'

She smiled at him.

'Don't fret, poet. As you said yourself once, there is no point in fighting the inevitable.'

He felt the confusion dissolve the roots of his understanding. Panic seized him and he knew the fear at last. The fear rolled in him, cold sweats triggered across his skin, and he felt his eyes strain as though they would roll up into his head.

'Help me, Sora. You must teach me, Sora. _I am afraid._ '

She turned to the child and said, 'We must go in, Griron.'

Then she took Pol-Chi by the arm and guided him out of the sunlight and into the gloom of the corridor.

Pol-Chi thought:

These walls will fade and I will he alone evermore.

He wanted to cry and plead for mercy, to stop the awful forces in him destroying his own beloved self, the self he has always treated generously out of respect and admiration.

He wanted to stop.

But Sora drew him on, down the trembling, dark corridor, whose walls would dissolve and reveal the awful darkness outside the world.

Let me turn back to the beginning again.

But Sora brought him out of the dark into the light again and when she let him, he let his legs surrender, and he fell down until the falling stopped.

He stopped in the deep. He said to himself.

'I _want_ to go back. Let me turn back.'

The face that materialised in the light (should it not be the dark?) there said:

'Why do you always _want_ , poet? Is it not enough to _have_ , poet? You have everything you need. Why go out, poet?'

He lamented to the face:

'Why can't I go back? Why can't I start again?'

And the face said:

'Why do you ask questions, poet? What is there to know?'

And he suddenly screamed at the face:

'WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME!'

And the face...laughed...and laughed again!

And there was a hole there that would not fill. He _wanted_ to fill the hole. But the hole refused to fill.

Instead:

it mocked him.

_It_ would not turn back – _ever_.

And he said to himself:

'I _will_ fill it.'

And the face materialised in the light deep (why isn't it dark?) and said:

'What do you _will_ to fill, poet?'

He said, spitefully.

'I _won't_ tell you.'

And in refusing to tell the face, the hole went away, and

he became the hole

and was filled with mockery and dark things.

But the dark things went away when he looked at them (in the dark?!), and he knew they were gone when he looked at them – even though he couldn't see them in the dark.

Suddenly he said in the dark, to the face he knew was there:

'I _will_ fill the dark.'

And the dark was full: yet it was dark and he couldn't see the filled dark.

Then he knew what must be said – at the beginning: he said to the face he couldn't see in the dark.

'I am _afraid_ to say it, because I want to turn back afterwards, and I _know_ I won't be allowed.'

And the face he couldn't see said to him, beside him, speaking softly in a gay tone:

'Who will stop you, poet?'

He answered immediately, though it was foolish to say it:

' will.'

It was hard to make the dark appear in the dark.

The he it: There was presence.

And he said, though he despaired of the foolishness:

'Being by. No! No! The presence being by.'

And the presence being by

And

Being there

'No!'

'Who shouts?'

'O!'

'And?'

' '

'And?'

' ? '

'And?'

It's not true, of course. But they will always consider it like that. It can't be helped, no matter what is done. Don't ever forget that. No matter what you do.

There! It's not difficult to say. It's only difficult to say. Yes. All the time. No matter what...

But. Yes, but.

No. Like this.

Then...

'There's no turning back, ever. Say it. You cannot do two things at once. Ever.'

What are you afraid of, anyway?

'I'm afraid of dying, _of course!_ '

'Yes. _Of course._ '

'Don't mock me, Sora. Don't make me ashamed of being frightened.'

She sat back on her heels, her palms pressed together, resting between her thighs.

'You're so good, Sora. Do you know that? I think I'd die for you.'

He laughed:

Pol-Chi laughed and said:

'The conventions of love, Sora. Self-sacrifice.'

She smiled.

'Do you bring me love, Pol-Chi?'

He laughed again.

'I give you love, Sora. It's yours.'

He looked around.

'Uöos?'

The old storyteller came around Sora.

'Ah. What do you think of Hepteidon's words?'

Uöos shrugged.

'It's hard to approach them, Pol-Chi. He says much, then he takes it away again.'

Pol-Chi nodded.

'Apt. What does he really want?'

He were right, Pol-Chi, he wants a god. Otherwise he will destroy everything.'

'Spite?'

'Not really. He's got beyond that. He threatens.'

'Sora. Do we stay?'

'If we try to go now, then we will see that we are prisoners. Hepteidon will see it also.'

'Then I must go and talk to him now.'

Pol-Chi got to his feet. Getting up also, Uöos said,

'Remember one thing, Pol-Chi. Hepteidon believes that you are the Chosen. That's why he has you here. That's why, also, he thinks you can work his An-Akar miracle.'

Pol-Chi smoothed his tunic, laughing.

'Why not? There's nothing to lose.'

To Sora he said, 'Take care of _Griron_ now, Sora.'

Chapter Eleven

Hepteidon said, 'Come in, Pol-Chi.' Then: 'Oh, do you want her to leave?'

Little Ki sat cross-legged on Hepteidon's cot, naked, her body in the bright daylight glistening with oils. Her nipples were large enough to make her breasts appear bulbous.

'No. I want to talk about her, too. But later.'

Pol-Chi turned his back on her and sat down at an angle to Hepteidon.

'Oh, don't treat her like that, Pol-Chi. She's not simply brazen. She likes to show herself off. I find it stimulating in a sublimely erotic way. I mean, I can look at her all day and not want to couple with her.'

'She's an Imperial pet, Hepteidon. I can't help my reaction.'

'Oh, I understand now. You're both black-skinned, I didn't realise that. Perhaps she should go then. Or at least dress.'

'No, no. Don't fuss about it, Hepteidon. I'll get used to it.'

'I hope so. You know she likes you, Pol-Chi. She's simple-hearted, really. When she likes someone, she shows it. All the time.'

'We'll talk about that later. What I want to know now is this. Where is my headquarters' staff?'

'What do you mean?'

'There are the senior officers and their staffs?'

'Oh, those. They're with their Armies, moving inland.'

'And who's supervising all the unloading and forwarding on the beaches?'

'They know what to do.'

'You mean each Army is responsible for all its own equipment and stores?'

'Yes. It seems the best way.'

'But the Armies must be integrated at some level, Hepteidon. As it is, the handling of the supplies is very wasteful. There are too many soldiers around here doing nothing.'

'They're waiting for the ships bringing their stuff.'

'I was afraid of that. Look, give me some idea of what's going on at present and also details of the whereabouts of the various Armies. You said you had maps.'

'Yes. Wait, I'll get them for you. Here you are. This one shows the final positioning after all the Armies have arrived. It'll be about two days march inland, spread, as you can see, across the Grasslands from here north towards the Ka-Sila. That's our first objective. Then we all move inland, across that broad front. Surveys show that the land continues flat inland for over ten days march.'

'What are these marks here, on the coast?'

'That's the Fleet. It will sail north and then east along the coast.'

'Why?'

'Well, I want to bring the ships with us. Over there, where the coast turns south at that river, they'll be about fifteen days march from our final position.'

'But what do you want the ships for? A sea attack should take place down the Inland sea.'

'No. They're not for attack purposes. Don't you understand, Pol-Chi, there'll be no invasion.'

'Why not?'

'Oh, what's the point in attacking the Empire of the Dawn?'

'Then why bring the ships around?'

'What would you do, then?'

'From what point?'

'Oh, from now, Pol-Chi, if you must.'

'I don't know. I don't have enough information yet. First, anyway, I want some clerical staff and lower rank administrators. And scribes. I want two military scribes for my own use. And I want them now, Hepteidon. I want them outside the door when I leave.'

'I'll see to that when you've finished. Wait, I'll make notes. It really is a pity you can't read or write, Pol-Chi. Everyone should be taught to read and write.'

'Well, it's too late now, Hepteidon. Anyway, I didn't ask for this job. You could easily have got yourself a literate Grand High Lord.'

'Yes, yes. But what else do you want now?'

'I want the administration block. And I want use of one of the dormitory blocks.'

'But, Pol-Chi, they're already full.'

'Don't worry, most of them will be on their way inland early tomorrow morning.

'Is that wise? I mean, the work is getting done.'

'Everything stops tonight for two days, Hepteidon. I want to find out what's lying around and where. Look, I'm going to need extra scribes for that. I want yours.'

'What else, Pol-Chi?'

'I want all your couriers, mounted and runners. I'll give them back when I've finished with them.'

'And?'

'Oh, yes. I want an order giving me control of the fort and jurisdiction of the town below. The place is in a mess. It'll have to be sorted out immediately. There'll have to be a second gate in the fort. I don't know where yet.'

'Pol-Chi!'

'Am I in charge?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Right then. Give me separate orders for the fort and the town. In ten days I want everything in order.'

'Is there anything else?'

'Not that I can think of at the moment. I'll have to work out the organisation of a General Command and get the staff I want together.'

'I'll get the scribes. Two?'

'And while you're down there, get a senior man to organise the clearing out of the rest of the administration block. And I want...the dormitory block straight across from it. Oh, and have the intervening area cleared as well. No traffic.'

After Hepteidon left with his notes, Pol-Chi settled back to enjoy the sunlight and the blue sky.

The shouts of command began to waft up from below, faint, easily lost in the spring brightness.

'Have you finished your thoughts, my Lord Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi turned around in his chair and leaned his arm on its back.

'I have, Little Ki.'

She leaned forward. Her breasts trembled with every move.

'What have you decided, my Lord?'

'We had better wait until the Lord Hepteidon returns. But, tell me, Little Ki, do you want a child of your own?'

She looked at him in surprise.

'I cannot have a child, my Lord. When the Emperor decided to keep me as his companion, they ensured that I would have no children.'

'I see. And what of those who do not become companions of Emperors?'

'Some are bought by members of the nobility. Others breed on the estate. Others are given in marriage or concubinage to soldiers. It depends upon their beauty.'

'And the most beautiful goes to the Emperor himself?'

'That is so, my Lord Pol-Chi.'

'So you were an important gift to the Lord Hepteidon? The Emperor would not let you go lightly.'

'Ah, I compromised myself with the Emperor. When my Lord Hepteidon asked me if the Emperor should die, I suggested he be ordered to commit suicide. It seemed a lighthearted game at the time, but when the Emperor remained Emperor, it was no longer possible for me to stay with him. I am lucky he did not kill me.'

'And the Lord Hepteidon is your complete master now?'

'According to the Imperial law he is, my Lord.'

'And according to you?'

'I would have you as my master, my Lord.'

'Why, Little Ki? It's important for me to know.'

'You command me. Surely you know that, my Lord.'

'It was not my intention to command you, Little Ki. I see you as my Lord Hepteidon's companion.'

'If you say so, my Lord Pol-Chi, it is so. My wish is of no importance.'

'And yet you shake your body at me, little Ki.'

'My command of my body is not always complete, my Lord.'

'Oh, nicely put, Little Ki. You are not the barbarian they say you are.'

'I am not an animal merely because I am treated as one. Nor am I a statue because I am treated as one, My Lord Pol-Chi.'

'You have rebellion in you, Little Ki. Don't let the Lord Hepteidon hear that.'

'I grow tired of mocking, my Lord Pol-Chi.'

'And perhaps you should, though I am not to be quoted on this.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'Will, you answer some more questions for me with the same candour, Little Ki? They are also important. I'm afraid there's a lot of misunderstandings.'

'Command me, my Lord Pol-Chi.'

'Good. What are your feelings for the mother of the child, Sora?'

'I do not know her well, my Lord. For a long time, it seems to me, she has been the only woman in a group of men. She was used to their favours. Perhaps she sees me as a rival. I do not see her as a rival, though perhaps I act as one. I am not used to the company or rivalry of other women.'

'Because you were the Emperor's pet?'

'Put so, yes. But, my Lord, being a pet, as you call it, was not my choice.'

'But it was far better than any other alternative you might have to suffer?'

'Yes. But there was no choice.'

'Do any of us have choice?'

'You do, my Lord.'

'How so, Little Ki?'

'You can choose to reject me.'

'Ah, but that appears as a choice only to you. For my part, I have no choice.'

'Is the Lord Hepteidon an obstacle?'

'Not the Lord Hepteidon, Little Ki.'

'The woman, Sora, then, I thought that this morning. You showed concern for her feelings.'

'I didn't know her feeling then. I merely assumed what her feelings were.'

'Is she an obstacle now?'

'Ah, Little Ki. You press hard. Why are you so eager to be possessed?'

'It is all I'm used to.'

'So it is. I had forgotten. But a question.'

'Yes, My Lord?'

'What are your feelings for the child? You have caused distress there.'

'My Lord Pol-Chi, a companion thinks for her master. Sometimes she acts for him.'

'So I've noticed.'

'Was it so obvious, my Lord?'

'To some extent, Little Ki. To some extent only.'

'That is good, my Lord. It is a difficult game to learn.'

'I believe you. But you say, Little Ki, that you acted in your master's interest.'

'Yes, my Lord. The little boy I like. He is serious and curious. But my Lord Hepteidon has a deeper feeling for the boy.'

'Do you know what they are, Little Ki?'

'You know my Lord's condition. He wants a son.'

'Is that all?'

'My Lord, I am not trained to understand mysteries.'

'Ah. Let me put it this way, Little Ki. Does the Lord Hepteidon also desire the mother of the child, Sora?'

'I think so, my Lord. But it is not a simple desire.'

'How so, Little Ki?'

'It is hard to explain. He is in awe of her, yet he wants to command her. But, my Lord, he neither loves her nor desires her as a woman.'

'What of Korkungal, the father of the child? You have heard of him?'

'Yes, my Lord. Again, there is complexity. My Lord Hepteidon was not jealous of the barbarian, which is surprising; yet perhaps it is not. But I feel – it is difficult to describe it – I feel, that Korkungal died to cover a deeper wrong. Can you understand that?'

'Yes, Little Ki. You express it very well. I've suspected the same, but I can't discover the deeper wrong either. But now tell me of Uöos, Little Ki.'

'Uöos needs warmth, my Lord Pol-Chi. But he is witty and energetic.'

'How well you put that too, Little Ki. Uöos needs warmth. You are perceptive.'

'I thank you for allowing me to be, my Lord.'

'And charming when you wish, Little Ki.'

'At all times for you, my Lord.'

'Perhaps your charm will seduce me, Little Ki. You have a gentle wit. But, tell me, why do you allow me to command you?'

'Because you take away my fear, my Lord. And because you treat me with respect.'

'Respect! Little Ki, I beat you yesterday and today I called you an Imperial pet.'

'But, my Lord, yesterday you defended yourself. Once my Lord Hepteidon spared me because he knew I defended myself. Today you spoke the truth of me. Is that not a mark of respect?'

'Nice. Little Ki, who taught you your reasoning?'

'I listened to the Emperor, and to his secretary-slave, Hsin. He was very wise and subtle. So, I had good teachers, though they didn't know It.'

'Little Ki, you have more talents than are apparent.'

'They are all at your disposal, my Lord Pol-Chi.'

'We will become friends, Little Ki. You are good company. Ah. I hear Hepteidon on the stairs. Back to work, little statue.'

Hepteidon looked dusty and hot. He paused in the room, eyes narrow, sniffing the air. He looked at Pol-Chi, then at Little Ki.

'Why do I have to do all the running round, Pol-Chi? That's supposed to be your job.'

'They don't know me and they know you. But after a while, they'll know of me.'

'Yes. I suppose that's best. But I'm hot. Organising people is an impossible task, Pol-Chi. They seem almost perverse in their misunderstanding of instructions.'

'You have to see it their way. You must speak their language, Hepteidon.'

'There's that, too, I suppose. But let us have a drink. There's some wine here. Ah. Good.'

They drank.

'Now, Pol-Chi. There are four good men. Two scribes that you asked for. They're waiting below. Then there is a map specialist. I know you think maps are easy to work on, but they're not. I advise you to take this man. I've told him. There is another man, but he's down in the harbour today. He has a perfect memory. Take him around with you, Pol-Chi. It'll save a lot of time. Just tell him what you like, inventories, notes, reminders – he'll remember them all.'

'That's thoughtful of you, Hepteidon. He'll come in useful. I had planned to take some scribes and get them to jot down things. But if this man is as good as you say, then that saves a lot of time and trouble.'

'Now, here are the orders giving you charge of the fort and town. They're sealed, as you can see. I'm having copies proclaimed here and below this evening. Everyone will have heard of you by tonight. Won't do them any harm to be apprehensive of you.

'There are twenty couriers on hand. They have their quarters on the other side of the fort. The soldier on the door below will show you. Oh, about Uöos and Sora. I've given instructions that they're not to be disturbed. But what about proper accommodation, Pol-Chi? Surely you're not going to lodge in that dormitory?'

'I haven't given it much thought, Hepteidon. Sora, Uöos and Griron seem settled in over there. What have you in mind?'

'Is that what she called him? Griron. Unusual. Obviously from her own people.'

'I don't know. Perhaps it is.'

'He's a fine lad, Pol-Chi. It's a pity Korkungal didn't live to see him. I take it that Korkungal is the father. Yes? Good. I thought as much. Uöos and Sora are so good with him. Every time I see him, he is either in Sora's arms or Uöos'. Perhaps a child should be given that kind of attention, especially when his father is dead.'

'Your father died when you were young, didn't he?'

'Yes, I never knew him. Perhaps that's why I take such an interest in Griron. Sympathy. A child does need fatherly affection and guidance. You're a father yourself, Pol-Chi. Don't you agree?'

'Of course, Hepteidon. But you surprise me. I hadn't thought of you as a doting father.'

'That's only because I've had no occasion to show it, Pol-Chi. But we all rally round Sora and Griron. They need us.'

'Indeed. But I agree with you, the presence of a child is a great pleasure. But tell me, Hepteidon, do you have any suggestions about accommodation?'

'Actually, I have. I don't know if you'll agree, but you are free to organise it for yourself, of course. I had thought of suggesting that we turn this tower into living quarters. We can put the secretariat elsewhere, perhaps in the administrative block. Yes. The difficulty is the child. If it fell down the stairs, I couldn't forgive myself. But there is another building. The priests have moved out of the original temple. They're finishing a stone structure over on the cape itself and have begun to hold their services there, though not many go, it seems. I thought we might use that building. It's in the back of the fort, in a relatively quiet part, and its not too far from here or from your offices. The advantage is that the living quarters are all on the ground floor, so no problem for Griron. As well as that, the old temple itself could be used as an assembly room, for conferences and the like. What do you think?'

'It sounds a good idea, Hepteidon. But how soon can we move in? I mean, we won't be more than another three months here. In fact, I may have to go forward sooner than that.'

'We can move in now. Today. I'll send men over to help Uöos and Sora. And we've only got the contents of two rooms here. There are six rooms over there. One is fitted as a refectory, so that makes five private rooms. We each can have a private room, with Sora taking care of Griron.'

'Yes, I think it's a good idea. But you'll have to ask Sora and Uöos. They might prefer to stay where they are.'

'Oh, I've already discussed it with them. A few days before you arrived. Sora seemed to be willing enough, but Uöos was a bit awkward. That's why I waited until you arrived. You know what he's like once he gets settled in somewhere. I expect it's his age. Anyway, if you, and Sora, agree, I can't see Uöos remaining obstinate. Look, there's a Captain waiting outside. He's going to supervise the move. I'll tell him to speak to Uöos, to tell him that you agree. He'll agree then.

'Pol-Chi, let's have a drink on that. It's good that we're all together again. Do you remember how on the ship we all ended up living in your room? I know it was crowded, but it was so warm and lively. Your health...

'You know, I won't be surprised to see Korkungal slouched in some corner this evening, staring dreamily into space as he used to do.'

'Ah, Korkungal. We do keep his memory, don't we, Hepteidon?'

'But he was our friend.'

'Who killed him, do you think, Hepteidon?'

'I still say it was one of the Savages, Pol-Chi. No. Not their leader, the one who came into camp wailing and tearing his clothes. It was obviously not him, but perhaps one of his followers. They were a shifty lot. I mean, they stole some weapons and food before they left.'

'They didn't steal them, Hepteidon. My father and I gave them gifts.'

'Oh, I didn't know that. That explains why Tan-Set took no action when I reported to him.'

'They needed those weapons, Hepteidon. They have a hard life here. Anyway, they were given in Korkungal's memory. We had to prove that we were his friends, otherwise they would have made trouble. You see, they thought we had killed him. And I don't blame Karusal for believing that. After all, he saw Tel-Shan threaten him on shore that night. They knew as well as we did that whoever killed Korkungal had to be tall and fairly strong, and able to handle a sword.'

'A sword, Pol-Chi? I thought it was an axe.'

'No, Hepteidon. An axe would not have made such a clean cut. It would have crushed the bones. It was a sword, wielded with both hands. You saw yourself what a powerful weapon it can be when Korkungal defended himself against Tel-Shan.'

'I see. It's a mystery, Pol-Chi. I suppose we'll never know now who killed him.'

'But everyone says you did, Hepteidon. You had declared your intention clearly enough. You are tall and strong, and you can handle a sword. It's obviously your favourite weapon – you carry Korkungal's all the time.'

'Sora gave it to me. I carry it in his memory, Pol-Chi.'

'You did kill Korkungal, didn't you. Look, it's not particularly important anymore. Sora doesn't ask for revenge, she's made that clear. What I want to know is this, why did you do it? I mean, the real reason. It wasn't just jealousy or some idea of justice.'

'Look at me, Pol-Chi. I tell you I did not kill Korkungal. Perhaps I am the most likely suspect, but isn't that also a good reason why I didn't do it. Yes, I admit that after he had attacked me I wanted to take revenge, but our common experiences on the ship really did bring me to like him. Now, will you please believe that, Pol-Chi?'

'Then who wears his head, Hepteidon?'

'What do you mean?'

'Didn't Uöos tell you? Apparently Karusal's old priest dreamed of someone else wearing Korkungal's head. That's how he put it.'

'Pol-Chi, and I don't mean to accuse you, but if anyone wears his head, as you so picturesquely put it, then you do.

'Do I? What an Insight, Hepteidon. But I wonder if someone else wants it. However, there is another odd thing about his death. Can you imagine a trained fighter like Korkungal, who moreover had spent most of his life in that sort of country, letting himself be caught unawares like that? It's almost as though Korkungal knew his time had come and let himself be killed. Now what do you think of that?'

'That's incredible, Pol-Chi. Why should Korkungal have wanted to die? He had everything to live for.'

'Well, there you are, Hepteidon. I admit, it really is odd. It's almost as though someone had performed a service for him. Or as though there was a kind of inevitability to it. Anyway, I had better go now. It'll be dark soon and then nothing will be done.'

'I'm afraid they give up before that now, Pol-Chi. Haven't you noticed that?'

'I've become used to this complete shutdown in the evening.'

'No, Pol-Chi. There's more now. The star, Ilgem, is so bright now that it can be seen rising in the evening, before the sun sets. The soldiers go indoors before it appears.'

'So bright already? How much longer do we have, Hepteidon?'

'I'm not sure. I thought about a year. But now, given how rapidly its light is increasing, I'd say less. About eight or nine months.'

'So soon? Well, it's long enough coming.'

'Will the An-Akar be ready, do you think?'

'If everything can be organised without too many delays, then I think it will. Give me about four or five months.'

'Are you reasonably sure, Pol-Chi? My father wants to come and see the _An-Akar_ for himself. I should let him know very soon when he is to come.'

'Yes, I'm reasonably sure of that date. You can tell him to arrive here in late summer. The journey across the continent from here should be relatively easy by then. We'll have staging posts and decent roads by then.'

'Good, I'm glad to hear that. And I'm also glad you've come to take charge, Pol-Chi. You know I have treat faith in you.

'Thank you. Now I'll go. Oh, wait. One last thing.'

'Yes?'

'Little Ki. Little Ki, will you come over. Oh, come as you are, I don't mind. Look, Hepteidon, I don't really know what you have in mind for the girl. Now, I believe she cannot have children, but there's no point in worrying about that now, is there? It's too late. This whole idea of curing her behaviour by giving her a child is beside the point. The important thing is this, Hepteidon, and I say it in front of Little Ki, you will really have to control your urge to be possessive. If we're going to form one group, as we did before, then Little Ki has to become a free member of the group. This master-slave business might have been all very well in the Empire, but you know as well as I do, and as Little Ki does, that the Empire is finished and that its laws no longer operate. Therefore, you can't really claim her as your slave.

'So, what I suggest is this. In our new quarters, Little Ki will have her room like the rest of us. Now, she does as she wishes, with whom she wishes, and only if she wishes. You can't expect her to sit around here all day like a statue if she prefers to sit in the sun or be with Uöos or Sora or anything like that. What do you say to that?'

'I agree, Pol-Chi. I keep her here close to me mostly because she's been my responsibility. The difficulties she's had with Sora have only added to her feeling of isolation. I keep her with me only because otherwise she would be left to mope on her own downstairs.'

'Good. Now the other thing is this, and I do want to hear your views on it. Before, we formed a group of four men and one woman, and, if you remember, Sora always had one particular man that, as Korkungal put it, she went to. In other words, one man was preeminent. There probably was good reason for that. It did help to produce stability in the group. Now we're three men and two women. I don't know how it will sort out this time. No, Hepteidon, I'm not going to presuppose anything. You must try to remember that it's going to be a wholly new grouping. So don't presume on earlier relationships either. Give it time to sort itself out. What do you say?'

'I understand the point, Pol-Chi. For myself, I'm most of all glad that we will be together again as a group, I expect to be very busy with affairs and it'll be nice to have friends to turn to in the evening.'

'Good. Now, what do you say, Little Ki?'

'Do you really renounce your possession of me...Hepteidon?'

'Yes, Little Ki. I'll put it in writing, if you wish.'

'That won't be necessary, Hepteidon. Look, Little Ki, if you join us, he'll be in no position to claim anything from you that you don't wish to give.'

'I do want to join, eh, Pol-Chi.'

'Yes, forget the lordship thing. That went with the Empire as well. I think Hepteidon should stop calling himself the Grand Duke, too. I always thought "Astronomer" suited you better.'

'Perhaps you're right. But what about the Armies?'

'Don't worry. In a few months they won't care about titles or rank at all. That's why I want to create new habits of command and organisation.'

'I see that. Sometimes, Pol-Chi, I forget just what a revolution the _An-Akar_ will be.'

'You never know, Hepteidon, it might even be the miracle you want.'

'Do you really think so, Pol-Chi? That heartens me. I must admit that I have been losing faith in it. I mean, it's all so laborious and chaotic.'

'Wait and see, Hepteidon. It'll all fall into place at the right moment.'

'You sound so confident.'

'Why not? I'll see you both later, I want to show myself now to the soldiers and townspeople.'

Chapter Twelve

Pol-Chi almost tripped over Griron in the twilight, seated as he was in the entrance to the converted temple. He picked him up and said:

'Have you come to see Ilgem again, Griron?'

He carried him around to the front of the building and pointed over the stockade.

'Look, there it is. See how bright it is, even though there is still daylight.'

The child looked intently, following the line of Pol-Chi's finger. Then he saw it, and he danced in Pol-Chi's arms, raising his hands to the star.

'You greet it, little man. But you're right. It brings beauty first. You are right to acknowledge that.'

When the child quietened, Pol-Chi took him indoors. He went down the corridor to the first lighted room. Uöos and Hepteidon looked up from their interrupted conversation. Pol-Chi set Griron on the floor. He immediately crawled over to Uöos and sat between his legs.

'Do you know, Uöos? It has suddenly struck me that your colouring is similar to Korkungal's. Was your hair red?'

Uöos caressed Griron's head gently.

'No, Pol-Chi. It was fairer.' He grinned with sudden cunning. 'I know what you are thinking, though.'

'And?'

'Who knows, Pol-Chi?'

Hepteidon interrupted.

'Uöos, you're not implying that you could be the father of Griron, are you?'

'As Pol-Chi says, if I was, Griron would be little different to what he is now.'

'You don't mean it, do you, Pol-Chi?'

'I've just realised the possibility, that's all. Look how Griron sits with Uöos. Like a son with his father.'

'But that's because he's used to him. Of course he treats Uöos as a father.'

'Well, it's good then that the child has a father to look up to.'

'Does it matter, Pol-Chi?'

'No, it doesn't, Uöos.'

'Wait now, Pol-Chi. There's another implication. You're saying that Sora coupled with Uöos while she was with Korkungal.'

Uöos laughed.

'How innocent, Hepteidon. Sora goes with whom she pleases. All her men must accept that.'

'Yes. I forgot she was a whore.'

'That's one way of putting it. Anyway, Hepteidon, it never kept you away from her.'

'That was different, Pol-Chi. We were all together then in that little room on the ship.'

Pol-Chi and Uöos laughed at the strain in Hepteidon's voice.

'Did I break up your conversation?'

'Join us Pol-Chi. We were discussing his theology.'

'It's not theology, Uöos. I've told you that before, I did not intend blasphemy in my writing.'

'But it's all about gods, Hepteidon. What else can it be but theology?'

'The Priesthood would not recognise it as theology. They'd consider it as heresy and a blasphemy.'

'It hardly matters what the Priesthood thinks of it now, Hepteidon. No one is interested in their religion any more.

'Perhaps, Pol-Chi. But they remain the source of most religious thought.'

'What if religious thought is irrelevant also, Hepteidon?'

'Then what are we doing, Pol-Chi, if it isn't religion?'

'That depends. Are we men, slaves, or Gods, Hepteidon?'

'Are you mocking me, Pol-Chi?'

'No, he's not, Hepteidon.'

'Well, in that case. The answer is that I don't really know, Pol-Chi. I don't have much to add to what I wrote.'

'I appreciate that. But there is one remark which fascinated me. Hepteidon, Why do you claim that our history is false?'

'Oh, that. It did shock me at the time, but now I think it doesn't make much difference. Anyway, Uöos did most of that work.'

'What work, Uöos?'

'Will I tell him, Hepteidon, or do you want to?'

'No, you tell him.'

'Very well, Pol-Chi. Hepteidon discovered an old tapestry in the Keep that had a completely alien quality to it, both as to subject and style. No one in the Keep knew anything about it, they hadn't even noticed it. There was a door behind the tapestry but we never managed to open it.

'But this aroused Hepteidon's curiosity. During the time of the preparation for the An-Akar, he asked me, because I've had some experience with archives, to investigate the Imperial archives. They're stored in huge caves deep under the Imperial mountain, the Mu-Ra. What surprised me at first was the amount of records stored there. The archivists claimed that they went back to the dawn of time. I was sceptical, of course, for what archive doesn't claim something like that. So I set to work on the registers, working back through ten thousand years of history. But I found that the received account of the history of this Age is reflected in the records, though admittedly records from the early millennia were sparse and in bad condition.

'At this stage I came to the conclusion that the tapestry Hepteidon had found was foreign rather then ancient, an illiterate rendition of some legend by members of a society then outside the Empire and probably coming into the Imperial collection at the time of conquest of that society.

'But then, because, as the old archivists explained, of my apparent interest in the older records, I was shown another set of registers and records. I didn't believe it when I was told this. However, I set to work again. The script was different to ours, but I recognised it and the language. They were distantly related to the language and script of my people! In these records there were references to Empires and great cities, to wars, famines, and strange sights. The balance of power in that Age was different to ours. There were four Empires and many smaller states, and they fought among themselves incessantly.

'However, none of this necessarily contradicted our account of history. We simply have nothing to say about the previous Age, perhaps because it was so boringly like our own: wars, conquests, famines, rebellion. But I had become so involved in my studies that I had taken to living with the archivists, who, you know, live all their lives down in the caves...

'He was once missing for over a month. I had to send men down to see if he was still alive.'

'Yes, they brought me back to the present, as it were, I was very surprised to see them and didn't understand what they wanted at first. However, what engrossed me by then were the other records that the archivists showed me. The first thing that I noticed was the arrangement of the archives as a whole. Under the mountain – and up into it and out under the sea, I was assured – there is a veritable labyrinth of caves. In these caves are stored all the remaining records of all the Ages of man. Then I noticed how all these various records differed. Some were great stacks of skins, others of bound materials, like parchment only lighter and more fragile, others had mixtures, rolls and loose skins alternating with bound volumes as the scale of civilisation rose and fell and rose again. For some Ages, there were stone tablets, a great many for one Age, only a few for another. There were no records for some, and this fact was noted. But, and I found this amazing, the records of some Ages were stored in small boxes of mysterious materials. Some of these boxes contained sheets like soft ice, others seem to be filled with string only. But I was assured that the records contained in these boxes were as vast as any I had seen stacked in other caves.

'Pol-Chi, I still don't know what to make of it all. What I have told you already is enough to make any man's head ache with wonderment and awe. But there is more, I'm afraid.

'All these records are in different scripts and languages, and while a few successive Ages may have possessed distantly related languages and scripts, among all the various records taken together, there are a great number of strange scripts and languages. But the archivists are a special people, almost, I suspect, a special race, of men. They live in the caves with their wives and children, and only rarely allow outsiders to marry into their race, usually because he or she has a special talent or aptitude. But, and this is an amazing thing, they insist that they have tended the archives continuously for many Ages. They say that because they live so deep under the ground under such a mighty mountain, they never suffer in great cataclysms or other disasters. At the end of each Age, they seal up the caves and live on, doing their work, until another Age contacts them. Some Ages, they told me, never learn of their existence, so that the archivists are obliged to gather the records of those Ages themselves.

'I don't know whether that is true or not; all archivists claim great antiquity for their libraries and like to think of themselves as part of a long line of archivists. But I admit that they possess powers foreign to our Age. They live much longer than we do. They have very white skins and large dark eyes, presumably because they spend all of their lives out of the sun. Otherwise they are much like us. But they do dress differently, with a single garment of different colours which fits their bodies snugly. They say it is a special garment, made to keep them healthy and warm. But they have strange mechanisms. Their lighting consists of a low glow which seems to hang in the very air. When they ask it to, it dims or brightens according to their instructions. Their food appears to grow in little boxes in walls. I have eaten it myself. The flavours are sometimes different, but those that I recognised were notably pallid compared to what we have here. Then they have little carts, for the want of a better word, which they use for carrying themselves and their materials around, for the caverns are vast and it would take a long time to walk from end to end. But these carts have no wheels and are not drawn by any animal! They make a low sound, but I was assured that they were not living beings. And they have other mechanisms, and though their functions were explained to me, I simply could not understand. The archivists were very gentle, for when they saw my confusion they always stopped, and consoled my limited understanding by saying that they would explain again at another time, when I would understand.

'They had one great mechanism, which is important to their own researches. They call it by some strange name, a long word in what I suspect was a totally alien language. I found it difficult to believe it was a mechanism at all, but they smiled and said I would have to learn how to look at it.

'How do you learn how to look, Pol-Chi? I nearly cried with frustration at my ignorance that day. But I will tell you what I saw. In a large cave the air seemed to be full of light. That's all. The light varied in subtle ways, blending in and out, up and down. And it moved all the time, like a brightly coloured mist. The archivists claimed that their specialists could read the mist. They could speak to it in a special way and the mist would reply in its own way!

'And what is the purpose of this machine, Pol-Chi? Ah, this is the hardest part to grasp and understand. The archivists said that, according to their records, which they believe may be incomplete, there have been one thousand seven hundred and fifty-one Ages of man! They said that these Ages have varied greatly in length, some only as short as forty generations, and others lasting more than one hundred thousand generations! Altogether, they estimated that, again according to their records, there has been more than nineteen million generations of man! Pol-Chi, Hepteidon, consider the sheer immensity of that! That amounts to over five hundred and seventy million years!

'I cried with deep sadness when I heard that. But the archivists tried to console me by telling me something of their philosophy. They told me not to consider time an obstacle, saying that I did not think to be overwhelmed by the existence of all the numbers upon numbers of the grains of sand in the seas of the world. Only the Moment was of importance. I asked them then for knowledge of the world and they replied by saying that such knowledge as they possessed was very little. I was surprised to hear this, and forgetting my terror of time, I pressed them on this, for the mechanisms and knowledge I knew they possessed told me that they had invaluable knowledge for me. But they smiled and said that they had knowledge of over five hundred different theories of the world and of the universe, of its age, establishment, composition, motion and purpose. They also said that they were all true and useful, but that many of them contradicted each other. So, for themselves, they were content to remain in ignorance of the true nature of the world. And they went on to volunteer the information that the same was true of the other universes, both in our space and in other spaces. They said that man had reached other universes in some Ages, but that the theories they developed were also useful but contradictory.

'So I asked them to explain their work to me. They said that in their opinion the only subject fit for study was man himself. They said that they were using their great machine to study all the knowledge of the Ages of man...'

'To find out why man endured, Uöos, as Hepteidon said in his writing?'

'Yes, Pol-Chi. To find out what purpose there was in the existence of man. Now, they began from the argument that the mere existence of man implied some kind of meaning. They insisted that such an implication was, strictly speaking, self-evident. That man is, as they phrased it, means something. They seek to discover what that something is. According to their researches, man appears, in the various Ages, to have done everything imaginable. They have created paradises, and have created hells; they have been kind and loving to each other and all living things, and they have been unimaginably cruel. They have spent Ages living like animals on earth, and in other Ages they have flown like birds up to the stars. The archivists say man has also thought and dreamed everything, and they showed me paintings and writings, which they said, with study, would prove to be masterpieces in any Age.

'The archivists then said that while man has done all these things, it was hard to understand, from their own point of view as students of all the Ages, what the single purpose of it all was, except perhaps the passing imprint of man's continuous existence.

'Here I raised our preoccupations and asked them if the ending of Ages had meaning in themselves. For the archivists, the greatest mystery is located here. I was glad to hear this, but what they told me then daunted me again. In the first place, while cataclysms often bring Ages to an end, man has on other occasions been the instrument of his own destruction. The archivists pay special attention to such events. They say that even when cataclysms, which by the way vary greatly in cause and don't always require new stars to precipitate them, lead to the ending of an Age, it is always the case, going by the evidence of the records, that man himself has at that time come to desire his own extinction. Their present conclusion, based on all these studies, which is a tentative conclusion, is that the whole of creation moves in sympathy with man...'

'Hepteidon, is this where you get your notion of the one power from?'

'Not entirely, Pol-Chi, but it gave me the confidence to express it.'

'In any case, Pol-Chi, it is a principle of the teachings of the priesthood that our world moves in sympathy with the Imperial Will. So there's really nothing extraordinary or original in this conclusion.'

'I take your point, Uöos. But do go on.'

'So the archivists have come to propose that man in his actual existence has meaning as some kind of separation from some vast unity, and that his strivings are an attempt, hidden from man in many ways, to return to that unity. However, the archivists don't pretend to know how or why man became separated in the first place. Naturally, they do not know how man can be reunited with this whole, or even if it is possible.'

'Tell Pol-Chi what they said about the Gods.'

'Yes, Hepteidon. I was about to tell him. I asked them if they knew anything about the gods and goddesses that man believes in. They said that, once again, the experiences of the various Ages differed greatly. Some Ages, they said, had great religions and performed very magnificent miracles, but other Ages had only a small interest in religion. They could find no pattern in this and had concluded that there was a contingent factor involved in man's beliefs. But they pointed out to me that if it is accepted that man's basic drive is for some kind of reunion, then every gesture, thought, and act of man, however small, accidental or private, spoke of that great desire and assisted the realisation of the desire, then religion itself did not necessarily betoken a concentration on attaining this desire, as most religious people of most Ages believed. Some Ages, indeed, had come to realise that every thought and action had this meaning and had gone to great lengths to explore every possible thought, meaning and gesture in the search for fulfilment.

'When I asked them, as their vast vision drove me to ask, if they knew of any man or men who had attained this union, they answered that as far as they understood the whole matter it was impossible to know that. They said, and this reminds me of something you said once, Pol-Chi, that such an achievement of union would be so great and complete an accomplishment that it would either make all the difference possible, or no difference at all. In either case, they argued, it seemed to them that everything would remain much as it was before. They gave the example of a peasant in his field who suddenly achieved union and then bent down to pull his next cabbage. I know this theory seems paradoxical, but they did argue, and cogently, I think, that such a union would probably take place on a plane of existence far removed from the sensual one, or even from the plane of the intellect, and so would not be experienced on either of these planes. They insisted that, on their own researches and experiences, man's planes of existence, as they called them, are many and as deep as they are high, figuratively speaking.

'Then they pointed out that on the basis of this theory it could be argued that all men achieve union at birth, at anytime in their lives, under the influence of a predestination or a choice, that they could win it by hard struggle of various kinds, by the utterance of a secret word or a common word. They even said that men could gain and lose union continuously during their lives, in response to all kinds of accidents and failings.

'I remember that evening well, Pol-Chi, and I have told you about it before, Hepteidon. We had spoken together for most of the day, for my interest in, and grasp of, what they had to tell me stimulated them to continue. But at the end, when we were all haggard from talk and thought, one of them got up and touched a little picture he was especially fond of, from an Age long ago, and said that really, in the end, you come to realise that either everything was possible or nothing was possible. Or as he said, after wishing us good-night, that both were simultaneously true.'

'But what of the Gods, Uöos? Tell Pol-Chi about them.'

'I will, Hepteidon. But I think it's important that he heard about man first. I did ask them some days afterwards if they had any knowledge about the possible nature of divinity. I phrased it in this way because I had learned enough from them to realise that this was the only way of broaching the subject. Once again they said that they knew little. Their most valuable opinion, derived from all their work, was that the important feature of divinity from the point of view of man was that divinity did not know. Now, Pol-Chi, they were careful on this point. They meant simply that divinity was incapable of knowing as such, which is not a matter of having no knowledge. Hence, they concluded that divinity could not act, or desire, or have purpose. But they, again, were careful to point out that they believed that divinity did have motion. Their reason for saying this was simple and, as so much of their theories are, contingent on what they believed about man. They said that if divinity was motionless as well as unknowing, then man could have no idea, never mind experience, of divinity. But, they argued, as man had an idea of divinity, even if it was only a word, an empty symbol at best, then it was necessary to suppose that divinity had some way of making its presence known. This way, they theorised, was by means of motion.'

'But, Uöos, why are the archivists so confident that divinity doesn't know, as you say?'

'Quite simply, Pol-Chi, because, as the archivists argue, there is nothing to know. They said that of course divinity might well have knowledge of itself or of its own plane of being, but that it could not have knowledge of man's planes of existence, because planes were meaningless to the divinity. If this wasn't the case, they continued, if the divinity and man shared, as it were, planes of being, then man would have more knowledge of divinity than he seems to have. I think the archivists' reason for saying that man and divinity can share some kind of motion is that they believe motion is in some way fundamental to all existence, in a way that thought, either as inspiration or reflection, is not.

'But we must be cautious in this, Pol-Chi, for the archivists themselves were cautious. They based all their thinking in this matter on the fact that man does use a symbol for divinity and on nothing else. They discounted miracles as merely phenomenal, and the desire for a god as an aspect of the deeper meaning of existence.

'They gave me these thoughts towards the end of my sojourn with them. On the last day, I asked them if they could give me some, how will I put it? some maxim to guide me. They were eager to do this, for as I have said, they were a considerate race. They told me that knowledge was not the end of life but, instead, that existence was, though they readily admitted that they didn't know what they meant by the term. When I pointed out the similarity between this term considered as a symbol and what they had to say about the emptiness of man's symbol for the divinity, they laughed with sheer delight, which flattered me, especially because it was my last day there. They openly agreed that there was a similarity, and went further and said, among much laughter and hilarity, that any concept, idea, or symbol pursued far enough tends to empty, leaving one with a husk. However, in a more serious tone, they said I need only consult myself to discover my existence, which could not be done so concretely in the matter of divinity. That, they told me finally, was why they put the emphasis on man's existence, as such, rather than on divinity, because they can live within its grasp, even if they can know or say precious little about it.'

'Tell me, Uöos, as a last remark to what is a fascinating story, how did the archivists distinguish between being and existence, for I notice you once, at least, used the words in such a way as to imply a difference of meaning?'

'Actually, Pol-Chi, I asked them that myself. They said that existence had motion and that being had not. Now, they insisted that on one level they were speaking of conventions to do with words, but on another they returned to their earlier characterisation of existence as exemplified only by motion. Existence is thus recognised in motion and not vice-versa. Of being, they said that to the extent that it was meant to designate a state which was beyond motion, then it had to be called meaningless. But they allowed that men could hold such a concept, but they said it was either an invalid abstraction from the reality of things, or, again, it was used like all our symbols representing divinity to indicate a putative plane or mode of existence about which no other knowledge could be had. They concluded by saying that while such abstract ideas were conceivable, they had no value; only the study of the nature of motion itself could produce useful knowledge.'

'But, Uöos, what in that case had they to say about death? You did make some remarks to me in the Ka-Ra but I'm afraid I was too preoccupied by what you had already told me to absorb what you had to report. It seems to me, hearing your account again, and in a more unified form, that death surely must have interested the archivists, if only because it is the one fate assured to all men.'

'I agree with you, Hepteidon, that death should have been an important subject for their researches, but when I asked them, it seemed to me that they regarded it as a trivial topic for conversation. In the first place, they said, while numbers upon numbers amounting to countless numbers of men had lived and died, the fact that their researches indicated the presence of one abiding desire common to all men made death seem irrelevant. perhaps because they dealt with Ages of men, the archivists seem unable to focus upon individual life and death. However, they always insisted that the great human desire they spoke about resided only in men as individuals, and not in groups, races, Ages, or some generic notion of mankind. And, as I have already said, they seemed to be sympathetic to those Ages which studied individual motions, such as thought, speech and actions, as the site of the solution to the mystery of man. Hence, death must have preoccupied them at some stage, though it obviously does not now.

'They said two things about death. In the first place they said that no reliable knowledge could be gained about death, because, they said, it is the supreme private and subjective experience. In their own terminology, death is the one motion that each individual man undergoes for himself alone. By its very nature, no report can be made of it, at least no report that could be valued as knowledge. They said they possessed hundreds of theories of the after-life, theories of incarnations, judgments, paradises and hells, shadow worlds, and unions with gods and goddesses. But, they continued, the fact that such theories have consistently failed to reassure men in any permanent way indicated that they could not produce true knowledge. Furthermore, they said that many Ages produced theories which said that death was a complete end to man, that like all other life man simply rotted and returned to the earth which had nourished him. The archivists were of the opinion that this last theory was by far the most useful theory of death, because it had the advantage of turning men's minds away from death and of forcing them to concentrate upon their lives, and hence upon their existences. I was startled by this argument, of course, and pressed them. They simply said that such a theory, though pessimistic and in itself as emptily theoretical as all the theories about the after-life, it at least came closest to their own view, that no useful knowledge about death was possible.

'Their second opinion was that death, considered as a final act or motion of man, could not exist. Here they speculated that death might well be a transfer from one plane of existence to another. Again, they said it might seem, from the other side, an awakening similar to that which the new-born baby experiences. The archivists insisted, of course, that they were speculating only in reply to my question. But some of them did say that there were occasions, while they were deeply engaged in their work, when the idea of death seemed to them to be an absurdity resulting from some incorrect thinking, or ignorance, or even a deep-seated fear of something more terrible. These archivists were tempted to bracket the concept of death with the idea of divinity and pure being as empty symbols which marked a failing or weakness in man, perhaps as a result of his division from the whole.

'They concluded by earnestly entreating me not to preoccupy my precious time with such a topic as death. As an inevitable motion, they told me, it possesses no freedom and is therefore composed of what they called unintelligible motion, motion which can only be endured but not known. I thanked them for their patience with me and prepared to go to my cot. But suddenly I realised that their last words about the subject of death implied. When I returned to the room in which we had gathered that evening, I saw that they had all remained in their places. It was as though they had submitted me to some test and now awaited the result of that test. When I entered that room, my face must have been bright with inspiration, for they all showed delight and some even cheered. Then, patiently and with many happy smiles, they awaited my question. I said, "But you have described death in exactly the same way as you describe the divinity! Both of them are forms of what you call unintelligible motion!"

'Pol-Chi, Hepteidon, they merely sat there nodding to me, their whole persons suffused with such pure intellectual joy! Then one of them, Jon, their leader, said, "Yes, my dear Uöos, it seems from our reasoning that death is divinity, and divinity is death". But, he continued, they suspected an error in logic or a peculiar limitation of language had brought them to this conclusion. He allowed that certainly the hypothesis might be true, to the extent that any hypothesis might be true or to the extent that anything is possible, just as everything could be impossible. But he cautioned me to be wary of the conclusion, for, as he pointed out, the equation was ultimately meaningless.

'I must say, remembering that evening now, that I came closest to them at that time. To celebrate my success and their own contentment, and mine needlessly to say, a measure of their beautiful drink, which is neither wine nor beer, was brought out. That night was the only occasion that my talent as storyteller was exercised among them. And in my experience they provided the finest audience my tales ever had, for they listened with open hearts and naive credibility to everything I had to say.'

Uöos waited a while in silence, heedlessly caressing Griron's face – he had fallen asleep against his thighs. Then, realising that neither Pol-Chi not Hepteidon had any more questions to ask him, he stretched carefully, eased Griron down on to the skin, got up and left the room. In his deep abstraction, Pol-Chi gazed upon the sleeping boy. Then, as though drawn to it, he looked out the window.

Ilgem glowed brilliantly in the very centre of the window, casting light on the wooden frame.

'You're right, Hepteidon. The star has become very bright.'

Hepteidon roused himself from his reverie and looked behind him. When he returned to look at Pol-Chi, his eyes showed keen alertness.

'You are happy, Pol-Chi,' he said unexpectedly, a statement which sought confirmation.

Pol-Chi's eyes were gentle.

'I am, Hepteidon. And how are you now?'

Hepteidon looked away, glancing at Griron:

'I am calm, Pol-Chi. I have never been so calm. It is as though I have been raised up above all the struggle of the world.

'I'm glad to hear that, Hepteidon.'

'But it is not like your happiness, Pol-Chi. It will not last. I dread the return to the world.'

Chapter Thirteen

When Uöos came in, he was staggering under the weight of a large, elaborately sealed jar. Pol-Chi jumped up to help him carry it into the room.

'This is part of your ration, Grand High Lord of the An-Akar.

'I forgot to tell you, Pol-Chi, that various supplies of food, drink and clothing were allocated to your rank. We had them brought here for you the other day.'

'Special rations, Hepteidon?'

'Of course, my Grand High Lord. You no longer eat or drink with the common soldiers. You must be careful to attend to the privileges of your exalted rank.'

Uöos laughed gleefully, pulling pointlessly at the stopper of the jar.

'We need Korkungal now,' Pol-Chi said, laughing. 'Hepteidon, do you have the sword?'

While Pol-Chi and Uöos cut and prised with the sword, Little Ki left the side of the sleeping Griron, leaving him in the care of Sora, and came to watch the labour of opening the jar. She cheered loudly with Pol-Chi and Uöos when they succeeded in extracting the stopper. Hepteidon brought the cups and Pol-Chi tipped the jar to fill them.

'It's a good wine, Pol-Chi. Better than beer.'

'As you say, Hepteidon, I must attend to my privileges.'

When each had a cup, Pol-Chi lifted the sword and sighted down the blade in order to attract their attention. Then he raised it above his head and shouted:

'To the memory of our friend, Korkungal the Brigan!'

'What was Korkungal, my Lord?' Little Ki asked after she had drunk.

'A great warrior, my Lady, who was blessed in his death.'

'May we all be blessed in our deaths,' Little Ki proposed with sudden seriousness, raising her cup.

They drank and more wine was poured.

'Who will we drink to now?'

'Uöos, who do you propose?'

'To the archivists of the Caves of Mu-Ra. May their work be fruitful soon!' and laughed, drinking and shaking with ironic merriment.

'Now who will propose? You, Hepteidon?'

'Very well. To the Emperor Van the Twenty-third, and my new father!'

After a loud jeer, everyone drank deeply, spluttering and pealing laughter.

'Now you, Little Ki.'

'We will drink to little Hsin, the Emperor's most loyal slave!'

Less ebullient, they drank.

'My Lady, who was this Hsin and why was he loyal?'

'He made himself die because his Emperor wished it, my Lord.

In the strange silence that ensued, Hepteidon turned to Sora.

'Will you propose now, Sora?'

Sora looked at first as though she would refuse, withdrawing into herself and staring at the floor. She seemed to struggle with herself. Then Uöos prompted.

'Speak to us all, lovely Sora. We are your friends.'

She nodded abruptly as though in obedience to Uöos. Then she looked up at Hepteidon and spoke quietly.

'I choose to drink to the living. I drink to those who do not seek to murder love.'

Uöos shouted, 'Sora!'

'Drink, old man. I demand it!'

But Hepteidon threw down his cup and marched out of the room.

Pol-Chi and Little Ki drank with Sora. After a pause, Uöos raised his cup and drained it.

When she had drunk, Sora stooped and gathered up Griron and left the room without raising her head.

Uöos suddenly plumped to the floor. His bones jarred on the wooden floor.

'Why should she have said such a thing?' he asked, looking earnestly at Pol-Chi and Little Ki.

Instead of answering, Pol-Chi tipped the jar and filled their cups, then sat down facing Uöos. Little Ki paused and judged the two men. Then she sat at right angles to them, drawing up her legs and folding her arms under her breasts.

'Won't you answer, Pol-Chi?' Uöos asked.

'Very well, Uöos, though I don't see why I should be the one to say it. However, I ask, how did Sora learn that?'

Little Ki bent forward and said:

'It is simple. Sora asks Hepteidon for love.'

'Ah, Little Ki, what shrewdness.'

'Stop flattering me, Uöos. You know that's not necessary.'

Pol-Chi laughed.

'He shows appreciation, Black Lady. I support his compliment.' He raised his cup. 'You have so many talents.'

'We are not to be serious then?'

Uöos pushed her playfully on the knee. 'What can we do but laugh, Little Ki?'

'But Hepteidon does kill those he loves. Why is that?'

'No, Pol-Chi. Not you too. Let us drink and play instead.'

'Drink then.'

They drank.

'And what shall we play? Pol-Chi, you make good games. Make us one now.'

'But, Uöos, have you not asked yourself the question, who does Hepteidon love now?'

'Oh, very well, Pol-Chi. It's an easy question to answer. Hepteidon loves Hepteidon. Little Ki, tell Pol-Chi who Hepteidon loves.'

'Pol-Chi, Hepteidon loves Hepteidon.'

'Very good, Little Ki. But was that wit or service.'

'A happy coincidence, Uöos, old man, of truth and obedience.'

'Who, then, does he kill, clever ones.'

'Why, Pol-Chi, my Lord, it is not a question of who he kills, but of who he loves to kill.'

'There is a game here. The answer to that riddle, Beautiful Lady, is that Hepteidon loves to kill he whom he loves.'

'So that...'

'Allow me, Little Ki. Thus he loves to kill he who is not.'

'Little Ki?'

'The Emperor should have decreed his death, for his will turns out.'

'Ah, but would he have been able to obey such a Decree? His fascination with Hsin indicates that he would not.'

'Yes, my Lord. I see that now. I will put it otherwise: it is said that the Emperor sacrifices so that "He-who-is-not" can appear in the Absence.'

'Oh, excellent, my lovely cow. I heap flattery upon you for greater service.'

'And so you do, dog. But who is "He-who-is-not"?'

'I will try a shaft here, my Lady. He is the Great Refuser. He whose Absence fills the life of man.'

'And when he appears, Grand High Lord of the Last Days?'

'He must refuse for the sake of man, Man of all the Days of Man.'

'And he did, my Lord Bull? Teach me again.'

'I teach you always, Pet, for you are willing to learn the same lesson always. He refused the very gods. There.'

'I ask on behalf of my Mother, Grand and High Lord: it is said that the Refuser died for man. Is that so?'

'I fill my Black Cow with my answer. He died for one man among the shadows.'

'I like that, my Puissant Lord. And thusly was the Burden passed, from one to another as in love?'

'Now I rejoin: as in love, Ample Lady. Like the lover, sword drawn, seeks his enemy, his love, and finding his love, does kill.'

'The aptness overwhelms me, I die on the Sword. But, I ask, breathlessly, who also died?'

'I make a joke here, Lady of Many Talents, and feed your desire for truths. He who also died was the Refuser.'

'Again I speak for the Holy Cow: the Emperor is only the Shadow of Ambiguity, which itself dies by its own self-consuming Will, an impossibility.'

'She is to be praised, hoping for rewards. And therefore in dying, cannot die.'

'And now I can say it quickly, Captain who burned a mast so his Priest might return to service..?'

'But of his Queen, Black Lady, sometime goddess.'

'Great flattery indeed. But saying it, I say it so: in living cannot live.'

'And I will rest on this, Lord and Lady, and hope it is taken to your bosoms: through racking and chopping he seeks in the middle, like an Emperor, who is the Child without a

Father. In the Middle, he seeks...'

'Oh, do not say it, lapdog!'

'Who is the Chosen?'

'Brightness in the Light, who is the Beast?'

'They who love too much. I expire for the sake of such love.'

'Nightly, Loving Lady.'

'Such sacrifice, Beautiful Temple. But I ask on a last breath: who loves too much?'

'Why, Old Rooter in the Cave of Mu-Ra, the Great Imperial Mount, the Chosen does love the Beast, and the Beast does love the Chosen.'

'In the Middle, Laid Low Lord?'

'In the very Door, between Coming and Going, Slave to my dying gasp.'

'To the very End. But, I fear to ask, who stands in the Door?'

'I fear to hear. Wait for a sign.'

'No omens, late-poet. We are far beyond that.'

'Listen, Historian of motions, there are omens everywhere now. In the Last Days everything turns back on itself, there being no where to go.'

'Oh, my Lord! Are you a Wizard? Or do you have good ears?'

'Answer me, Black Beauty. Who stands in the Door?'

'Griron!'

'Yes. Griron, do you stand in the door?'

'And he answers, Captain of the Northern Star.'

'You see, Lady, Griron passes through the Door.'

'That is an omen indeed, Poet of the Living. Is the legend created?'

'Hush, Seeker of Bones in the Earth. She who bore through the Deep learns of the mystery of life.'

'The mystery, Beautiful Lord?'

'Now!'

Sora, naked, anxious, blinked in the light of the room, peering about. She came forward, then stopped suddenly, seeing Griron lying between Little Ki's glistening breasts. She licked her lips, hesitant.

'We will take care of him, lovely Sora. Do not fear. We are his friends.'

Sora still hesitated, seemingly compelled to remain poised. Pol-Chi nodded and said:

'The legend continues.'

Hepteidon stood in the door, naked, the slight blush of a weal on his penis.

'Who stands in the door, Hepteidon?' Pol-Chi called jovially from his place, snuggled against Little Ki's right side.

Ignoring him, Hepteidon bent anxiously towards Sora. 'Come back, Sora. They will keep him safe.'

It was Uöos who gasped, lying between Little Ki's spread thighs, his head pillowed on her wide groin.

Sora turned to Hepteidon. They saw her buttocks crawl and tighten. Pol-Chi said:

'You give her love, Uöos?'

'I gave her the impossibility. I give her the possibility.'

'My Lady?'

'What she asks, I will give lovely slim Sora.'

'And I, Woman of the Deep, I bring you love as you brought me love. May my love serve you as yours served me.'

Sora turned to them, fearful yet appealing.

Pol-Chi looked over her shoulder and shouted tauntingly:

'Hepteidon, who do you love?'

Hepteidon looked down at his gonads, his hands spreading out as though to reveal all there was to be revealed.

Uöos spoke slowly, deep in his throat, the vertebrae of his neck kneading Little Ki.

'Hepteidon, sorry friend, who do you wish to love?' Hepteidon looked up from his gonads, a frank despair on his face, and regarded Sora.

And Little Ki, holding Griron close down between lolling ample swollen breasts, asked,

'Whose Crown do you desire?'

This brought gasps from Pol-Chi, Sora and Hepteidon.

Sora said,

'You cannot will it, Hepteidon.'

Pol-Chi observed:

'But he tries to will it through the negation of a negation, Sora. Look, he seeks the other impossibility. He seeks a slavery which is the refusal to serve.'

Uöos sinking blithely on moist odorous warmth said mockingly, laughing back against Little Ki's Mu-Ra:

'Will it make him rise?'

Little Ki, radiating warmth, said:

'Refuse him, Sora. Refuse him.'

Sora covered her breasts in a casual way and said:

'No, Hepteidon. I will not.'

Hepteidon showed rage and swung his arm, Sora stepped back, arching her body, eluding him. He came forward, his face a mask, snarling:

'I will possess you, Sora! No one here will stop me!'

He lunged and grabbed her, swinging her off balance and throwing her on to the floor.

Uöos remarked:

'Observe the rise.'

Hepteidon dived on top of her, pinioning her, glaring at her with

'If there is a darkness in love, this is it. Here is the Other Door.'

Sora's face showed the strain of her resistance, her lovely, regular brown features drawn into a mask of great economy of expression.

'It is said, you know, that the giver cannot receive. That is the secret motion of charity.'

Hepteidon worked with determination and precise movement to force his legs between her thighs. Greater weight and strength were successful at last.

'The legend of the An-Akar will be enacted here.'

One of Sora's motions helped Hepteidon. Pinned arms and legs forced apart too wide for articulation left her with her back muscles alone. Vainly she sought to throw Hepteidon off her by jerking up her belly and twisting at the peak of this motion. Hepteidon carefully judged, riding out her bucking belly, then moved on an instant and

'Being in the Door is only the beginning.'

Low sultry laughter.

'Yes, now the coming and going, and coming.'

More laughter.

'And charity, to develop an image, now seeks its secret dream realised: the impotent flaunts its shame. Voluptuously.'

Sweat ran from Hepteidon and his face was contorted in concentration. Sweat ran from Sora and she fought him. She held him tightly in her arms to throw him off; she arched her body to throw him off. Hepteidon was pulled down closer and he was drawn in deeper.

Then Pol-Chi rolled out from the warm side of Little Ki, out from under her lolling right breast, and went on hands and knees to the struggling couple. There he waited, judging with a gleam in his eyes. Suddenly he gave Hepteidon's sweating, pumping rump a sharp stinging slap and shouted:

'Stop thinking!'

It worked.

'Korkungal died by the sword, and lives by the sword.'

'Or the Emperor will have his Will, even if he can't.'

Laughter.

'Or if the Chosen can't pass in the Door, then the Beast won't either.'

Sora rolled away from Hepteidon's blossom and licked the sweat on her lips, fingering her tender vagina. She lay, stretching the gentle curves of her alluring body, then kicked, her foot swinging across the floor into Hepteidon's groin.

'Such love as is concentrated there.'

Hepteidon jerked, knees coming up, whimpering in his ecstatic extremity. Now Sora went closer and brought her flat palm down on to his ear. Hepteidon's skull bounced off the wooden floor, resounding.

'So much for theology.'

But his knee came up, unbeknown to Sora, and caught her on the hip, driving her over. Hepteidon was up then, his hand swinging at her falling head.

'This tale I've heard before.'

'But who defends? Who attacks?'

'Ambiguities?'

'What else?'

'They say that when the dog succeeds in catching his tail, the Gods smile and bestow blessings in abundance.'

'This dog will die of exhaustion first, I think. What do the Gods of dogs do then?'

Pol-Chi picked Sora up bodily and swung her behind him, and then faced Hepteidon.

'Hello, Hepteidon. You are a mighty Warrior.'

He put his hand on his trembling moist red shoulder to restrain him.

'If you rode from here to Sila and back again, mighty Grand Duke, you would not have the energy for such laborious coupling. Why don't you learn to ask?'

'You don't understand, Pol-Chi,' Hepteidon said, panting, glaring over at Sora. 'She drives me to this every time.'

'Perhaps, But come sit and take some wine. You, too, Sora. Let him hold you the way contented lovers do.'

She sneered, panting, her smooth, ever-lovely features alluring even in fatigue.

Wine was poured. Pol-Chi raised his cup.

'To every form of love that exists and has motion.'

Laughter.

'Sit here, Hepteidon.'

And Hepteidon sat to the left side of Little Ki, at an angle facing across the fulsome glistening black body to Sora, now seated cross-legged at Little Ki's right thigh.

'There is one thing that Hepteidon does not believe.'

'What's that, Pol-Chi?'

'Sora's "no" means "no"'

'Oh, stop being so blithe about it, Pol-Chi. I've said already that you don't understand.'

'Sora, my lovely, who possesses my love, what is it that I do not understand?'

'I say "no" because I cannot say yes.'

'Will not say "yes"?'

'Cannot! I cannot agree to my own death.'

Uöos stirred between Little Ki's thighs, craning to look back at Hepteidon.

'You offer her death, Astronomer?'

Hepteidon glared at Sora, across broad-lolling black glistening breasts that he ignored.

'I offer her only what I can give, old man.'

'Death, Duke of Death's Door?'

'No, Pol-Chi. She calls it death.'

'What do you call it, Swordsman?'

Hepteidon broke his gaze. His eyes flickered from person to person in the pile.

'I have no name for it.'

'Ah. There is a new thing here. What is it?'

Suddenly agitated, Griron twisted on his bed of flesh, rolling to one side. Little Ki steadied him with a splayed hand. Then he settled again, face resting on her left breast, towards Hepteidon.

'There are always omens. See, even Griron waits to hear.' Little Ki watched Griron, not sure that he was completely settled. Her fingers made little movements of reassurance against his back.

'Only love and death have no names.'

'Acute, Little Ki. I flatter you, my Lady, against another time. But there is one other thing now that has no name.'

'I guess it, Pol-Chi, Bright Captain of the North. But say it.'

'Yes, Uöos. One name is always hidden. Only the true slave can know it. That's right, isn't it, Astronomer? I ask you, theologian: who named the star, beautiful Ilgem?'

'You talk in riddles, Pol-Chi. Your poetry goes astray.'

'Is that so? Well, listen, man of the night sky. There are two names here. There is the Harvest, the starry quern, the Destroyer that destroys so that there will be life in the Dark Time of Winter. And there is Ilgem, the Nameless Brightness, the Beauty that Destroys. Astronomer, who called it the Bright No-Thing? It was not a poet who did. All the poet says is "Hail, Bright Motion of Ambiguity", seeing there both beauty and death. And could a scientist say, "This is the Bright No-Thing, which brings a no-name for our fear"?

'So, Emperor of the Middle, who cries out in the night, "Hail, Bright No-Thing!"? What is his name? I will tell you, Pretender to miracles: it is the Dark Some-Thing!'

'Nonsense, Pol-Chi. You play with words and inversions. You pull opposites from your phantasy.'

'I do. Of course I do, Logician of the Powers. But only to prompt a question: Why Ilgem, then? Who, I ask, is Bright?'

'The Merura is bright. See how he glows in our light.'

'Uöos. And again, the other question, who then is Dark?'

'I show the Dark, Steersman.'

'And how brightly you show, Imperial Goddess of the Tapestry. But I ask again, who hides the Dark?'

Sora suddenly looked at Pol-Chi.

'Darkness cannot be seen in the Light.'

There was a pregnant silence until Hepteidon burst out:

'You play with your old mystery-cunning, Pol-Chi. You know I mean by Ilgem merely the designation that it is yet-to-be-named. We must wait to see if its forms part of our universe.'

Still the pregnant silence. Then Hepteidon screamed in desperation:

'You know I give you my life, Sora! What more can you ask for? If I am demanding of you, then it is only because I defend myself. Why won't you give me what you give to all other men?'

Pol-Chi spoke in a clipped voice:

'Give her your death, Man-who-awaits-the-name. Take up your sword of death.'

Hepteidon leaned forward, clutching his knees.

'You don't want my death, Sora, do you?'

Sora stared back at him with implacable eyes.

'You see, neither-here-nor-there, she will command you without commanding you. You must become the true slave. Remember your lessons.'

Hepteidon flared.

'She asks the impossible, Pol-Chi!'

'She always does, good Duke of Ends. She believes always that the impossible is possible. That is her greatness. Is it not, Woman-of-the-Mark? Now give it to her.'

Hepteidon scrambled to his feet and went and rummaged behind Little Ki, under the window to the night sky, a light playing on the left side of its frame. He returned with the sword and handed it to Sora. He squatted beside her, his head down, offering her a vulnerable neck.

Sora held the sword with both hands, looking down the blade at the dent.

'Who does she kill?'

The sword was pointing at Uöos. He squirmed back against yielding moist flesh to the bone.

'Only those she does not Command,' he muttered.

The sword then swung towards Pol-Chi.

'Mother of milk,' he said simply in appeal.

Then to Little Ki.

'Those who burden me, protect me, slender one. That is the love of the slave.'

Then Griron.

He rolled in his sleep until he lay on his back, arms outstretched, lying on lolling yielding breasts. His tight bundle of sex tremored in his sleep.

She pricked Hepteidon on the front of his shoulder. He instantly jerked in response and fell back onto the floor.

'Now, Slave, remember.'

Once he was supine, Sora jumped up and grabbed his penis. Hepteidon moaned and fought the desire to look down. His body jerked spasmodically.

'Out of your hole, Healer. There's work.'

Slowly, Sora carved with the sword, exploiting its weight. There being no bone, her work was made easy.

'Such blood. Quick, Healer.'

Hepteidon let out one long scream of

'See, my Imperial Pet. It is as you know: The Child-with-no-Father cannot be the Father-of-the-Child. He must remain in the Middle. You are ever-wise, lovely Sora.'

Uöos crept over and edged Sora away.

'A piece of cloth, quickly.'

Sora touched the blood on the sword. She looked at her fingertip.

Then she pressed it against her flesh above her left breast.

Pol-Chi jumped, took the sword. He tipped the blood and pressed his finger tip onto her right shoulder.

'So you've tilled the Deep, lovely Sora. Who are you now?'

Sora stared at him with remote allurement. Pol-Chi swung to Little Ki:

'See, Slave of the Mountains and Valleys, she is the Mother-of-the-Deep!' He turned back to Sora. 'Sustain me, Mother.' He dropped to his knees and she bent so that her nipple came to his mouth. Then, slowly, he drew her down, suckling, until she lay on the floor.

Then Uöos came to her, blood on his hands and chest. He knelt and closed his lips on her other nipple.

Suckled thus, Sora moaned with a high bright agony, her body stretching and twisting.

When Pol-Chi crawled away, Little Ki lifted Griron and lay him in the crook of Sora's arm and placed his mouth to the throbbing, milk-engorged nipple. Suddenly awake, he clutched the breast and guzzled.

When Uöos crawled away, Little Ki knelt down and presented her wide pink mouth to the throbbing, milk-engorged nipple. She clutched the breast with splayed fingers and guzzled.

Collapsed on the floor, Pol-Chi said into the tickling fur at his mouth:

'Oh, poor Hepteidon, you can never utter the truth now.'

Curled on the floor, blood clotted on his hands and chest, a dribble at his chin, Uöos asked:

'Why did you not say it, faint-hearted poet?'

Drowsily, Pol-Chi laughed.

'You cannot utter a mystery, historian. Otherwise, there would be no legends.'

Griron rolled away, releasing the breast with reluctance, pulling the throbbing gland, tipping on to the floor with a mellow thump.

Little Ki let white milk run freely across her black face.

She thought to take Sora in her arms, embracing her, bringing her into the warm fold of glistening, generous amplitude.

Consumed, Sora snuggled in close, nuzzling the warm funky flesh. The agony caused her to tremble continuously.

Hepteidon moaned. He fought the urge to look down.

'Poor Sora, only in the dark will she look behind her.'

'But she is good, Pol-Chi. Grant her that.'

'I grant her everything, man of the past.'

Chapter Fourteen

'It must be now, Hepteidon. The time comes.'

'But, Pol-Chi, all I can see is chaos. The Armies have disintegrated.'

'Ah, Hepteidon. Completion only comes at the end. Don't you know that? Until then, there is only confusion.'

'How will you get them to move? They hide in their tents all the time now in fear of Ilgem.'

Pol-Chi laughed discreetly, not wishing the assembled officers below to see or hear.

'We will give them a Holy Word for a Holy Protection, Hepteidon. Then we will make it impossible to stay.'

'How so? Is it magic you work, Pol-Chi?'

'There is no magic, High Duke, only desire.'

Pol-Chi stood up and raised his arms above the sea of yellow uniforms and armour. At once the buzz of talk stopped.

'My Lords and Chief-Commanders! Thank you for gathering here today. I know some of you had far to travel in the heat. You demonstrate your loyalty to your Grand High Lord.

'The reason for calling you here is simple. Some of you perhaps have already guessed. I hope you are pleased. But for those of you still in the dark, I will give the reason directly, for there is otherwise much to tell.

'My Lords and Chief-Commanders, the reason for calling you here is this, we now march on the Empire of the Dawn! In less than a month we will sit on its border!

'We go with all the power and majesty of the Empire of the Sun. Out there are gathered the pride of the manhood of our Empire. Over five million men under arms await our orders. See, my Lords and Chief-Commanders, we command such an Army! Between here and the river Sila in the north stands the greatest Army that the men of our Age have ever gathered. Gentlemen, it is an Army fit to conquer the world!'

Pol-Chi allowed the buzz to rise and fall of its own accord.

'Even to gather here was itself a great feat. One hundred thousand men died coming here. We hold their memory dear, for they died as part of the effort we continue here. Let them not be forgotten!

'But think of that effort, my Lords and Chief-Commanders. Twenty-five thousand ships of the Empire have come to this coast. Five Armies braved the seas in coming here. Remember the ships of the Southwest Army which foundered! Remember the valiant thousands of that Army who died without seeing the Light of the North!

'And again, my Lords and Chief-Commanders, eight hundred thousand soldiers of the East and Southeast Armies marched here in order. They marched across hot plains, across deserts, mountain ranges, they marched through steaming jungles. Gentlemen, seventy thousand men died on those historic marches. Are they forgotten? No! They will never be forgotten! Across the Empire, from the South and East to the North, there lie the markers to commemorate these marches. They are there for everyone to see!

'Such, my Lords and Chief-Commanders, is the effort, energy, and lives our Empire has expended in order that we might gather on this coast. We are here with food for a half-year's campaigning. We have arms for a great war of conquest. Some ask: But what do we do after the six months, we are far from our homelands? Well, I will tell you, gentlemen. Let the Empire of the Dawn provide!'

Again Pol-Chi stepped back and allowed the excited buzz play itself out.

'You rouse them, Pol-Chi. But that is the easy part.'

'I give them somewhere to go in their dreams.'

Pol-Chi drew a deep breath.

'Now, my Lords and Chief-Commanders, we will not ask for provision. We will take from the Empire of the Dawn all those things we lack! We will take their food, take their wine: we will take their gold and take their women! And, my Lords and Chief-Commanders, we will take their land, and we will grow fat on that land.

'That is conquest! That is our right!'

Pol-Chi sat down. Hepteidon leaned over and spoke above the cheers.

'Is that all?'

'Of course, Hepteidon.'

'But you know that's not enough. Not even plunder and rape will entice the soldiers out onto the plain.'

'Of course it won't. But soon now our officers will realise that, too. Then they will ask questions. With my answers they will absorb my purpose and will become my agents, for they will believe the solution is of their own making.'

'Such cunning, my Grand High Lord.'

'A miracle requires great labour. Everything is commanded by that requirement.'

A thick soldier with iron-grey hair rose. He looked around him slowly and the hall became quiet.

'My Grand Duke, I greet you and profess my undying loyalty.'

Hepteidon nodded his head.

'I hear you, my Lord Ch'in of the Eastern Army. You have proved your loyalty. You may speak.'

The Lord bowed stiffly.

'My Grand High Lord, I am yours to command.'

Pol-Chi inclined his head smartly.

'My Lord Ch'in, your obedience gives honour to your Army and to our Empire. Speak, you are among your kin.'

The Lord bowed stiffly.

'I thank you, my Grand High Lord. My Lord, as senior Lord of the Armies, I speak on behalf of my fellow officers gathered here.

'My Lord, we command Armies in troubled times and our soldiers, our kinsmen, are disturbed by forebodings and fears. But I swear to you that they will fight for the glory of our Emperor and our Empire! But, my Lord, they need special direction. They need someone to show them the way through the mist of their troubles. You tell us, who have clear eyes, of the path to honour and glory. But who, my Lord, will show them, our kinsmen, the path?'

Over the cheers of support, Pol-Chi muttered,

'Ch'in always used both feet at once. A great thing on the battlefield, but...

'My Lord Ch'in, tell me, where were you at the time of the Miracle of the North?'

'Why, my Grand High Lord, I was in the homeland, in the East.'

'And tell me, my Lord, where will you be at the time of the Miracle of the East, the An-Akar?'

'Oh, my Grand High Lord, it is my fervent hope to be present at the time of the An-Akar.'

'Good, my Lord Ch'in. I was present at the Miracle of the North, when the red and yellow stars shone for us. I tell you, my Lord Ch'in, there was a great storm then, and I said to my Captains: Do not fret, Captains, the storm will cease and we will make merriment in that space of peace. They believed me, my Lord Ch'in, and out of their belief they followed me, and after the Miracle there was the Space of Peace.

'Now, my Lords and Chief-Commanders, for I address you all. I tell you now, at the time of the Miracle of the East, when the An-Akar will open and reveal the truth, there will be an end to storms and tribulations, and afterwards there will be the Space of Peace, the Ek-Min.

'Now, my Lords and Chief-Commanders, trust me as my Captains trusted me! Comfort your men with this assurance. Travel in trust, for after the An-Akar there will be the Ek-Min!'

Pol-Chi sat down amid the excited buzz.

'The Ek-Min, Pol-Chi?'

'Yes, Hepteidon, in the Ek-Min, the Space of Peace, nothing happens.'

'You give them a new thing, then?'

'I give them the oldest thing, Hepteidon.'

'May I ask what that is, Pol-Chi?'

'It's a mystery. Of course you may not ask, Hepteidon.'

Leaning forward as nonchalantly as he could, Hepteidon hissed:

'You make a new miracle, Pol-Chi. You make one of your own.'

'Hepteidon, quiet yourself. I do what is necessary.'

The chatter died down and the Lord Ch'in arose again.

He was less stiff now, his small dark eyes gleaming wetly.

'My Grand High Lord, you hearten us. I speak on behalf of my fellow officers when I say this. As your Captains in the storm of the North trusted you and were granted presence at a great Blessing, so shall we trust and follow you through the storm.'

'I thank you, my Lord Ch'in, and you, my Lords and Chief-Commanders. I will not fail your trust.'

'We believe you, Grand High Lord. But tell us, who are tossed in the storm, how shall we know the Space of Peace? I ask this question not for ourselves, who follow your command directly, but for out men, who are lost in the storm and who do not have the reassurance of your presence.'

'My Lord Ch'in, you are a careful man. You remind me, who now to my loss is at a remove from the great body of the kinsmen, of something which I was in danger of overlooking. But I will tell you how it is to be recognised. You, in your turn, will tell our soldiers, our kinsmen.

'My Lords and Chief-Commanders, the Space of Peace is like a green field. It is fresh, young and new. It is a pasture of plenty, it is a cool park of solace and rest. Gentlemen, it is like a virgin, eager to greet us. It is a mantle for our bed, a quiet place that will surround us.

'My Lords and Chief-Commanders, I will tell you of the necessity of this Space of Peace. Here in the North, as some of you have witnessed, there are seasons different to the homelands in the South. Gentlemen, here the world dies and rests, and then is reborn! Each year there is a miracle here! Each year the land awakens and becomes green!

'Gentlemen, after the desert there is always the cool sweet water and the fresh grass. After the fever, there is the cool repose and recovery. After the clash of war, there is always the arms that revive. After the death of winter, there is always the rebirth of spring!

'My Lords and Chief-Commanders, after the passage of the An-Alcar, there will be the Ek-Min. Beyond the Door of Death, beyond the shadows that assail us, there is the Field of Peace, where quiet prevails, where we will rest!'

Before the officers could scramble up to him, to salute him in their enthusiasm, Hepteidon stood and said hoarsely:

'You have destroyed the An-Akar, Pol-Chi. You ruin my vision.'

'Be quiet, Hepteidon. There are two ways through a door, there is going in and there is coming out. There must be an end to ambiguity. So there is the flat space, where all will be clear.'

'Why didn't you tell me this before now?'

'I didn't know, Hepteidon. Believe me, mysteries tell their own legends.'

Then the officers were about them, saluting, all talking at once, their relief obvious. Pol-Chi slapped backs and dug ribs, talking and joking with a military manliness. Near him, Hepteidon accepted salutes and praise, smiling down from his height. But his care not to touch or be touched was respected.

Pol-Chi called for wine and toasted his Armies, shouting recklessly. In return he was toasted. Then the Grand Duke of the North was toasted.

On Pol-Chi's orders the wine was plied continuously, and he remained among his officers, talking loudly, calling up memories, laughing and slapping backs.

Then, as the wine flowed, he edged away, leaving the officers among themselves, talking loudly, calling up memories, laughing and crying by turns, and slapping backs.

'Can you understand yet, Hepteidon?'

'I cannot, Pol-Chi. Perhaps your understanding exceeds mine.'

'Perhaps, Hepteidon. But you did ask me to do what you could not do yourself, didn't you?'

'I've made a mistake, haven't I, Pol-Chi?'

'You always did think too much, theologian. Thinking it does not make it so.'

'But it was so obvious. Even the Emperor, my father, recognised the need.'

'No one disputes that, Intended. But you allowed yourself to be seduced by the illusion. Look what happens. You lose your power to create.'

'Ah, I remember that, Pol-Chi. Tell me, what lies beyond the next illusion, the Ek-Min?'

'I don't know. The Ek-Min must be exhausted first. Someday, nothing will lie behind the illusion.'

'Then?'

'Nothing, of course. Can't you even see that?'

'But there is always something.'

'Yes, Hepteidon, the dark some-thing, the bright nothing.'

'Paradoxes again. There must be an end to paradox, Pol-Chi. I suffer too much in the name of paradox.'

'Paradox is your middle name, Hepteidon.'

'How so, Pol-Chi? More mystery?'

'No, Hepteidon. A riddle. Who pisses like a woman, squatting in the ditch, but can't take it up?'

'You're cruel, Pol-Chi.'

'Are you happy, my Lord Duke?'

'What is happiness? Answer me that riddle, Pol-Chi.'

'No riddle, Hepteidon. Happiness is a god.'

' _What do you say_ , Pol-Chi?'

'Happiness cannot know itself, Hepteidon. It's like a black cow lying in the sun, warming its wide haunches.'

'But a god, Pol-Chi? You blaspheme!'

'Ho-ho, Hepteidon. Do I reveal secrets?'

'You touch on a powerful thing. Be careful. You are my friend.'

'Who is the Beast, Hepteidon? You tell me a secret now.'

'They say, the soldiers out on the plain, that the Beast has five million heads and five million swords.'

'Who are they to know, who squat so low?'

'That is what they believe, Pol-Chi. You said belief was the important thing.'

'Ha. That was before the act, Hepteidon. These are the days of action. The days when there is no longer anything to be done.'

'Why didn't you explain these things to me, Pol-Chi? Why did you let me do wrong?'

'You did right, Merura Intended. Do we not have a gathering?'

'Is that all I am to do?'

'Remember you are a slave now, Man in the Middle. You are commanded now.'

'I've been tricked! I sought a god, Pol-Chi. What do you give me?'

'You sought your shadow. I give you the death of your shadow. I do for you what you cannot do for yourself...Tell me, Man who murdered for love, who is the Chosen?'

'They say that the Chosen brings...Pol-Chi, _they say he brings new life!_ '

'What else could they say? They always want some-thing for no-thing.'

'What does he bring, Pol-Chi? _I am afraid now_. You break my foundations.'

'Ah, Man-in-the-Abyss, what else could the Chosen bring? He brings men their truth.'

'What is that, Pol-Chi?'

'Oh, Hepteidon. If I knew, what need would we have for the Chosen?'

'I am horribly lonely, Pol-Chi, my friend. I am burdened.'

'You live yet, Hepteidon. Your burden is not great yet.'

'The burden of my error is great, Pol-Chi.'

'Why do you deny yourself? They are your actions that you call error. _Name your burden!'_

' _Kandrigi!'_

' _Name your burden!_ '

'No! I stop at the death of Kandrigi. I am a murderer.'

' _Name your burden_ , Man-in-the-Middle!'

'No! I stop...Pol-Chi, _there is no name there!'_

' _Name your burden!'_

' _Oh, the name! The Name_! Pol-Chi, who is my Master?'

'Your Master is the Shadow, whose tail you chase.'

'Pol-Chi, who denies my Master?'

' _You do_!'

'You give me an impossibility, Pol-Chi.'

'I will give you another impossibility.'

'Don't, Pol-Chi. If you love me, don't.'

'I don't love you, Man-who-murdered-for-love. Here. The impossibility. _Tell your Master to kill you!_ '

Hepteidon screamed in Pol-Chi's face:

' _Kandrigi refused!_ '

Pol-Chi remained unperturbed.

'So what, Refuser? Willing it didn't make it so, either.'

'He died for his refusal!'

'And yet you cannot! _Laugh_ , Hepteidon. There is always a joke here. You can only refuse to die. Yet you cannot live, Man-in-the-Middle. You can neither come nor go.'

'Pol-Chi, unburden me. _Please_. I drown in my fear!'

'Hepteidon, for friendship I tell you: Kill your Master!'

' _I cannot kill a god_ , Pol-Chi. You ask me to undo the world.

'There is no will in that undoing, Seeker-of-Gods. Your God is but a shadow!'

' _I cannot kill my God_. I have not the command.'

'Then tell your God to kill you. Release your God to us!'

'No! I cannot.'

'Then I will do it, sweet Astronomer. Here, I do it: _God-of-no-name! Kill your slave who once murdered you!_ '

'What do you do to me, Pol-Chi? I have sought love, as you did. Why do you not forgive me?'

'Where did you seek love? Where did you seek forgiveness?'

'Pol-Chi, you know where I sought love.'

'Again, Divine Slave, willing does not make it so.'

'But I submitted!'

'You submitted to an illusion. As always, Symbol-Maker.'

'Don't say that! I followed your tracks.'

'My tracks! Who cares where Ilgem has been? Only its destination is sought.'

' _I am afraid_ , Pol-Chi. At least pity me.'

'No pity. You murdered for love. You did not pity.'

'Pol-Chi, I see the end. _Kill my God!_ '

'But I don't know your God, Theologian.'

'I will show him to you, Pol-Chi. Only kill him. Take Korkungal's sword.'

Pol-Chi grasped the warm handle.

'Show him to me now, Hepteidon.'

'Come.'

Hepteidon led him down the hall, past the remaining officers, who, however, were too maudlin to notice their departure. Out in the sun, Hepteidon led Pol-Chi around the once-temple to the space between it and the stockade.

Hepteidon knelt at an angle to Pol-Chi.

'I show you my God, Pol-Chi.'

He bent his head and parted his long hair to expose his neck. Three vertebrae jutted in the smooth red skin. His voice muffled, he said.

'See, my God rides me, Pol-Chi.'

'Ah, but Hepteidon, why burden me? I am not your slave. Will this death.'

'I, too, am a slave, Pol-Chi. I cannot command my God.'

'Then beseech it of your God. Tell him to order your death.'

'I cannot. My will is incapable. I cannot demand of my Master.'

'Then I again call on your God to kill you.'

A shadow fell across Hepteidon's back. Sora carried Griron, straddling her hip.

'He wants me to kill his god, Sora. But it is an unnecessary burden. He cannot see that.'

Sora nodded and looked to one side, behind Pol-Chi. Little Ki stood regarding Hepteidon, arms folded under her breasts.

'Hepteidon was once a man, Pol-Chi. Make him a man again.'

'You are as wise as ever, Sora my lovely.'

'An Emperor cannot will his own death,' Little Ki said softly.

'Ah, Beautiful Lady, but a man can do what an Emperor cannot. Isn't that right, Hepteidon? You talk now only of gods and slaves, not of men. Why is that?'

'Men cringe as slaves now, Pol-Chi.'

'Were men ever otherwise, good Hepteidon?'

'No.'

'Will you be a man, Hepteidon?'

'I cannot. The fear is too great.'

'Hepteidon. Look at me. I make you a man. Here, take a man's sword. He did not fear or cringe. You know that.'

Hepteidon took the sword.

'Remember Korkungal, Hepteidon.'

Pol-Chi walked away. Little Ki turned to look after him, then said to Sora,

'I want to see what a man is like, slender one. I have known only Lords, who command, and slaves, who are commanded. I want to see a man command himself.'

Sora nodded and followed Pol-Chi into the living quarter of the once-temple.

He sat on her cot. Sora put Griron down and he immediately crawled over to Pol-Chi. He sat looking up at him, a serious, quizzical expression in his eyes.

Pol-Chi cried. Sora sat patiently beside him, looking at Griron. When the tears were exhausted, he said,

'I saw once that Hepteidon had loved, Sora. His god made him betray the father-man he loved, Korkungal's priest. That was a great burden. It unmanned him, Sora.' He looked into her face. 'Can you see that, Sora?'

Uöos came in and sat on the floor beside Griron.

'You cry for Hepteidon, Pol-Chi?'

'What does he do now, old man?' Uöos shrugged.

'He talks to his god. He thinks his god is in Korkungal's sword. He strives to command him.'

'He is not a man, Sora. Can you see it now?'

Uöos looked from Sora to Pol-Chi with a clouded look.

'What did you do, Pol-Chi?'

'I made him a man, Uöos. Sora told me to.'

'Sora, you don't have the care of Hepteidon, you know that. This burden will kill him.'

Pol-Chi leaned down, glancing momentarily at Griron's wide open eyes before looking at Uöos.

'Uöos, he wants me to kill his god. I cannot kill what is already dead.'

'Dead? What is dead, Pol-Chi? He calls his god now.'

'His god commanded him to murder love, Uöos. Can you see that? You know the mysteries. Hepteidon is now the One-in-the-Middle. He seeks love in death. I gave him the power to seek that love now.'

Uöos shook his head sadly.

'Oh, Pol-Chi, you make a great mistake. Why do you still hide behind Sora?'

'I have given her my love, old man.'

'Did the yellow star teach you nothing, once-poet? Did the embrace of the goddess not tell you, Divine Lover?'

'I know what I was taught, mystery man. I was taught that the goddess has a cold heart.'

'And?'

'At the proper time.'

'So you know, miracle man? But what of Hepteidon now? He gave me this message for you. He said, "Tell my god that I did one thing for him that no other could do. I saved men."'

'Ah, I remember. He went across to the other ship. But that was only rivalry with Korkungal.'

Uöos suddenly shook Pol-Chi's knee.

'But don't you see yet, Pol-Chi? Hepteidon thought Korkungal was the Beast. He was the old god, the one who was indifferent to Kandrigi's death; the one who destroyed men.'

Pol-Chi sat erect, tensed to move.

'What else, wise old man?'

'You know. But I will tell you. You are his Chosen. You are his new god. He says you bring truth. He says he seeks this truth with love.'

Pol-Chi leaped up and ran out of the room and down the corridor.

Little Ki knelt beside Hepteidon, who sat looking at the sword on the ground before him. She caressed his long hair. She looked up at Pol-Chi.

'Who do I serve, Lord or God?'

'Who do you love, Imperial Pet?'

'I cannot love, Dark God. I can only serve.'

'Watch. I will teach you how to love, Beautiful Woman.'

Pol-Chi knelt in front of Hepteidon.

'What do you seek, Man-in-the-Abyss?'

'I seek death.'

'What do you seek, Man-in-the-Abyss?'

'I seek love.'

'Why do you seek love, Man-in-the-Abyss?'

'For the truth.'

'What is the truth, Man-in-the-Abyss?'

'I tell you, Pol-Chi. _The earth moves_. I have seen this in my study of Ilgem. Nothing is fixed. All is motion. _That is freedom.'_

'Then you are free, Hepteidon. What do you need of love now?'

'Nothing.'

Hepteidon picked up the sword. Carefully he placed the point between his ribs at his heart, then lowered the hilt to the ground.

'I thank you, Pol-Chi.'

And drove his whole weight down on the point.

'You've let him kill himself,' Little Ki said in wonder.

Pol-Chi smiled benignly.

'There is no death, Little Ki.'

# Part Three: The Ek-Min

Chapter Fifteen

Pol-Chi stood on the brow of the low hill and looked down into the yellow mist on the broad river. To the yellow clad soldiers behind him, he said.

'This is the place. Pitch the tents along here.'

He swept his arm out along the brow. Then he ran down the hill, jumping and driving through the high yellow-brown grass, skirting bushes and trees.

The riders came forward at his command.

'Along the river on either side of here. Tell the Army Lords to maintain the disposition as they approach. This is important. There is to be no manoeuvring for central position. Tell them I expect them here tomorrow night. They must approach in order, under strict march, with banners and pennants unfurled. Now, ride!'

He watched them jostle and turn in a body. Dust hung in the air behind the galloping hooves. Then he turned back and looked up the hill.

Above the brow of the hill hung Ilgem, half the size of the moon, gibbous and yellow.

Pol-Chi raised his arms to Ilgem.

'Soon, star-with-no-name. Now are the Last Days. The days when there is nothing to be done.'

He laughed loudly in the cool dawn air. His laughter was swallowed up in the stillness.

He set off across the slope of the hill, climbing towards the huddled group of pack-horse handlers.

'Good morning, soldiers.'

They were seated around a small fire, eating. Seeing their leader, they began to scramble up.

'Hey! At ease.'

'Will you eat with us, my Lord?'

He went round and slapped the speaker on the shoulder.

'How did you know I was hungry, kinsman?'

He squatted into the circle and accepted a bowl of hot meal and began to eat, shovelling the thick porridge up with his fingertips. Around him, the soldiers crouched and ate, shovelling the porridge with the same rapidity.

When they had eaten, they sat back, rubbing their mouths, belching, engorged on the solid mass of food. Pol-Chi also wiped his mouth and belched, feeling the heavy heat suffuse him.

They were silent, waiting his pleasure.

'A fine spot, eh?' He looked around at each of them.

'The river is the boundary of the Empire of the Dawn, my Lord?' the leader of the troop asked tentatively.

'And the boundary of the Empire of the Sun, kinsman.'

An old soldier, a scar running down from his ear to his mouth, cocked his head.

'Then we do invade, my Lord?'

Pol-Chi regarded him with humour.

'Why not, grandfather? Isn't that why we've come here?'

The old soldier glanced up at Ilgem and said laconically.

'What will we find over there that we haven't found here, my Lord?'

Pol-Chi laughed outright.

'A good question, grandfather. Is there anything new under the sun?'

A number of soldiers glanced up at Ilgem. One of them spoke in a low voice.

'There is, my Lord. There is Binin, the Harvester.'

'Then it's a great thing when something new is seen, soldiers who have travelled the world.'

A soldier spat into the fire. The sizzle was loud.

'We've come a long way to see this new thing, my Lord.'

Pol-Chi stabbed his thumb at the sky.

'Do you think that is the new thing, kinsman?'

Another voice filled the gap.

'Tell us of the new thing.'

'I will. But one of you tell me this first: Where are we?'

In the silence the soldiers looked at one another, but avoided Pol-Chi's eyes.

'Come on, kinsmen. You know better than I do.'

An earnest-looking young soldier plucked a blade of grass. Having drawn their attention thus, he squinted at Pol-Chi.

'I'll tell you. Some will tell you that we are at the beginning of an invasion of the Empire of the Dawn. Some really believe that. Others will say that this is the An-Akar, the Gate of Death. Here they expect to die, but few will say how they will die.'

'And what do you say, nephew?'

'I say we're far from home.'

The soldiers laughed at the youth's temerity. In the easing atmosphere, Pol-Chi also laughed, shaking his head as though agreeing that he had walked into that trap.

But, encouraged by the new easiness, a beefy soldier with thin straggling hair said, as though to the other soldiers.

'But where's home now, friends?'

Many nodded at this, glancing slyly to see how their Lord took it. Seeing him laugh easily, others were stimulated to have their say.

One said, shouting above the general laughter:

'Home is where I sit my bum, friends.'

And another rejoined immediately:

'Well, it's not my arse that finds home for me!'

He patted his balls with an obsessive high-pitched laugh.

Across the fire, the simple-looking youth explained to Pol-Chi:

'Gar always finds a home to go to at night.'

The laughter took on an edge of ridicule, and Gar began to look sheepish. The soldiers on either side of him started to thump his arms and back.

'And he doesn't care what kind of hole he finds for the night either!'

Pol-Chi laughed with the soldiers until the cruel merriment eased. One by one the soldiers realised that the question had not been answered.

The simple-looking youth, having already addressed Pol-Chi, found it easier than the others to address him directly again.

'Is it true that we can pass through the An-Akar, Lord? Do you bring us a new life?'

The profound silence showed that their chief preoccupation had been voiced.

Pol-Chi now cocked his head at them.

'If you don't know, kinsmen, how should I know?'

The old soldier stared hard into the fire.

'See! We've been brought here to give us something to do.'

'What would you have done in the homeland, grandfather? Tilled the land for the next harvest?'

There was a chill in the silence. A middle-aged soldier, an An-Akar amulet prominent on his chest, asked softly:

'This miracle you bring, my Lord, is it for the whole world?'

'You think of your wife, cousin?'

'Aye, and my four children, my Lord. What point is there to this...this miracle if there is nothing to go back to?'

Another leaned forward and said eagerly.

'Yes, my Lord. What use are five million men in a world without women?'

Pol-Chi held up his hand. The soldiers quietened immediately.

'Kinsmen, I will tell you this. No miracle comes to the world.' He had to raise his voice above the buzz of disappointment and incipient anger. 'The miracle, as it is called, has _always been here._ '

Now the buzz became one of puzzlement. Voices called, but only after the question was asked by a number of soldiers, did one of them focus it distinctly:

'What miracle is that, my Lord?'

The note of scepticism was balanced by a quality of habitual patience.

'Why, kinsmen, look at yourselves.'

Their attention fragmented as they reacted with a practiced dismissal of all cant.

Pol-Chi swept his hand at them, 'Who are you, kinsmen?'

Only one soldier volunteered an answer, speaking in a surly tone.

'We are Imperial soldiers.'

'I ask you again, kinsmen. _Who are you?_ '

One spat back.

'We are _men._ '

'Once more, kinsmen, the third time. _Who are you?_ '

The silence was one of obstinate sullenness. But their minds, pressing against what they did not know, were blank and open.

'Well, then, I'll tell you, kinsmen. You are _living_ men!'

The initial reaction was that of scepticism. Then the simple-looking soldier was foolish enough to ask the obvious question:

'What do you mean by "living", my Lord?'

'That's no secret, good nephew. Look at yourself and you'll see what I mean. All of you!'

The simple-looking soldier gaped, then shouted a laugh, then looked down at himself.

The other soldiers had been watching his reactions, prepared at first to laugh at him, then to laugh with him. But when he looked down at himself, they suddenly felt numbed. It was as though the simple-looking soldier had disappeared. In that chasm there was only one thing to do.

But when they looked at Pol-Chi, they discovered that he was looking at himself.

And looking at one another did not help. In each other's eyes they saw the edge of the chasm. Even the world around them, some discovered, the hill side, the trees and bushes, the yellow-brown slope opposite rising to the plain in the west, was hollow, a growing void.

There was only one thing to do. Each soldier looked at himself. The simple-looking soldier's naivety brought him to the discovery first. He suddenly shouted, raising his head, his eyes wide and sightless:

' _I see it!_ '

Some soldiers, distracted, looked up, a superstitious thrill exciting them.

Pol-Chi spoke in his most sonorous tone:

'Kinsmen, when a _living_ man looks at the nothingness of the end, he sees one thing. Look!'

The soldier with the amulet raised his eyes to Pol-Chi, mouth open, head moving in agreement. Pol-Chi put his finger to his lips.

'But remember, kinsmen, what you see is unspeakable.'

Another soldier looked up at the fire. His face showed a total repose. Another tumbled over sideways and lay bundled, eyes open, snoring noisily.

'Love what you find there, kinsmen.'

Helped thus, a soldier stood up and simply walked away, flexing his fingers, staring at his jerking fingers.

' _Believe_ what you see there, kinsmen. There is no other truth.'

The simple-looking soldier leaned over, his eyes bright.

'Is this the Ek-Min, my Lord?'

'What else, kinsman? Where else did you expect to find spring in high summer?'

To his right, a soldier laughed contentedly at this. Pol-Chi pushed himself up. As he moved away, the old soldier said behind him:

'My Lord, what if this is not the truth?'

Pol-Chi turned to face him.

'And what if it is not, grandfather?'

'What do we do then, my Lord? I seek your guidance, that is all. In all my years, my Lord, I have never seen a truth. Why should I see one now?'

'When else would you see one, grandfather, except at the end?'

'But, my Lord,' the old soldier suddenly pleaded. 'What if it is not true?'

'Well, then, grandfather, do what you can. Seek elsewhere.

'But, my Lord, there is nowhere else to seek.'

'Then the truth must be here.'

'But what if there is no truth at all?'

'Grandfather, there is a truth in that.'

The old soldier wrinkled his brow. Some of the soldiers were glaring at him, seeing him the boring old fart he usually was. But others watched Pol-Chi, their scepticism revived.

'A play with words, my Lord.' A note of malicious triumph crept into his voice. 'Can you not answer my question, miracle worker?'

Pol-Chi walked back to the circle around the fire. 'I'll answer your question, grandfather, _again_. If there is no truth at all, then there is only nothing, I leave you to find something in nothing, grandfather.'

Some soldiers tittered.

'But can you not give us the truth, my Lord? They say you gave truth in the North? Why can't you give us a truth now?'

More soldiers were looking up at Pol-Chi.

'I'll give you a truth, grandfather. Watch.'

Pol-Chi bent quickly and found a twig of kindling wood. He raised it to eye level.

The old soldier watched, his expression balanced between credulity and cynicism.

Pol-Chi snapped the twig in halves and held the two pieces apart.

'There, grandfather. A truth.'

The old soldier was angry in his disappointment.

'My Lord plays tricks.'

'There is a truth there, grandfather. Deny it.'

'But...'

'But, yourself, you old dosser. An act broke the stick. The truth lies in the act, not in the breaking or the piece of wood. And it does not lie in me.'

'Then where does it lie, my Lord?' The old soldier asked with cunning.

'In the act itself, old man.'

'But where is the act?'

'Ah, grandfather. I told you I was giving you a truth. Did you think I would put it inside your head for you, to save you the trouble? You didn't seek the truth when I showed you one.' Pol-Chi looked at the other soldiers, to draw their full attention. Only half of them were actually watching. Two more had walked away, and now two lay on the ground in trances. 'If I were to stop Binin in its tracks, you would think it a great miracle. Wouldn't you, grandfather? You would, you miserable old ballocks. You want something for nothing. But let me tell you, if I were to stop Binin, you might call it a miracle, but would you call it a truth? No, you'd go back to grumbling about the food, or the weather, or the work you had to do.

'Grandfather, there'll be no truth for you until you see the truth in yourself. Until then, I've no truth for you.'

Pol-Chi turned and walked quickly away, blindly pushing through the grass at first, but then arcing down towards the column approaching from the vest.

A stream of abuse followed him. It was suddenly cut off and the bustle of fighting came instead.

Pol-Chi jumped from tuft to tuft across the marshy strip at the bottom of the hill. Two birds took flight from a nearby pool, and Pol-Chi watched with surprise as they flew off, skimming the slope of the hill, then follow the river north.

The land inclined slightly, rising from the river to the level of the Grasslands. The column was trailing over the skyline, coming down the incline, heading towards the picketed pack-horses over to Pol-Chi's right, below the soldiers' campfire.

An outrider spotted him and wheeled his horse and galloped over, kicking up the fine yellow dust of the plain. The rider was crouched low behind his mount's straining head, urging it on with frenetically beating heels. Only at the last moment was the horse checked, and it came to a stiff-legged, shuddering halt in front of Pol-Chi, a cloud of dust billowing forward to enclose Pol-Chi and the rider.

Pol-Chi held his place and peered through his lashes at the rider. When he saw the grinning tanned face lurking in the dust, he exclaimed:

'A Savage?'

The Man of the Grasslands laughed happily at being recognised and turned his horse with a savage tug and presented himself openly to Pol-Chi.

'Are you Karusal's kin, Man?'

The Savage nodded, concentrating on quietening his horse. When he had dismounted, Pol-Chi went forward.

'What are you doing here? You know the Imperial soldiers hunt you still.'

The Savage nodded humorously and said,

'Where else is there to go, Great High Lord?'

'Has Karusal come?'

The Savage continued to smile.

'Karusal is dead, High Lord. Manosur says that his curiosity finally got the better of him. Manosur leads us now.

'Is he here?'

'He is with your High Priest-Magician. He brings you a message.'

'I will come.'

The Savage stepped back and offered Pol-Chi his mount.

'Will it take us both?'

'Only if we do not gallop.'

'Then let it walk.'

Pol-Chi leaped up behind the Savage. Despite what he had said, he drove the horse over to the column at full gallop.

Manosur and Uöos turned their horses out of the column as Pol-Chi and the Savage approached. They dismounted and waited.

'Manosur! It is good to see you again.'

The Savage remained by his horse and asked,

'How do I address you? You are the leader of the greatest army I have ever seen. A whole nation in a line.' He laughed loudly. 'I am the leader of a family only.'

'Out here, Manosur, I am Pol-Chi to my peers.'

'Ah, Pol-Chi, that is magnanimous.'

'Perhaps, Manosur. But the friends of Korkungal the Brigan will always have a claim on me.'

Now Manosur came forward and grasped Pol-Chi's shoulders and drew him in to his chest.

'Uöos? You don't happen to have...?'

Uöos grinned and went around his horse.

'Will we sit, Manosur? How many are you here?'

'Myself and Tirbad,' he nodded to Pol-Chi's left.

'Tirbad, I am Pol-Chi. Thank you for bringing me. Join us now. The Guests offer hospitality to the Men of the Grasslands.'

Tirbad grinned.

'Greetings, Pol-Chi, I thank you for your hospitality.'

Manosur eyed the satchel in Uöos hand and said.

'There are many in the Grasslands now, blackman. Many tracks and many houses. But little food now.'

Pol-Chi nodded.

'It is a hard country.'

Manosur looked around him.

'It is a beautiful country.'

'A still place, Manosur.'

'Ah, you know that.'

Uöos passed out cups and poured wine. They sat in a circle and drank.

'This is not beer, Pol-Chi. It eats my mouth.'

'It is wine, from the south. It will ease your heart.'

They drank again and Uöos poured again.

'How is it with your kin in these strange times, Manosur?'

'As with all the peoples of this land, Pol-Chi. Broken. Perhaps it is inevitable. We had long known that there existed a man in the south who wished to rule the world. We knew he

would be powerful.'

'Have we conquered you, Manosur?'

'You have taken the land and our food. Your cities and forts grow on the coast. You lay many tracks.'

'But you still have a hidden place?'

Manosur laughed.

'There are many hidden places, Pol-Chi. Your armies go east in line, so we go south and north.'

Pol-Chi glanced at Uöos.

'It will not be for long, Manosur.'

'The Savages are well aware of that, Pol-Chi,' Uöos said evenly.

Manosur looked up at Ilgem, which was paling in the light of the early sun.

'The sky will fall soon, men of the south. Few will escape that.'

Pol-Chi leaned forward.

'Few? How could any man escape it, Manosur.'

Manosur shook his head at Pol-Chi's curiosity, laughing again.

'Do you think this is the first time the sky has fallen, Pol-Chi? Everything has its end, even our present sky.'

'And men survive?'

'A few, Pol-Chi.'

'How is that, Manosur? I know of a few men who will survive, but they are deep in the earth.'

Intensely curious, Manosur now leaned forward.

'In the earth, Pol-Chi? I have never heard of such a thing. But that is good to hear. That is ingenious.'

'Perhaps. They hide in caves. They live in these caves, Manosur. They survive all the Ages.'

'Ah. That is heartening, Pol-Chi. It is good to hear that men can do that.'

'Perhaps, Manosur. But tell me, how do the few survive?'

'Topar protects them, Pol-Chi. After all, he is our God.'

Pol-Chi glanced at Uöos and then at the Savage.

'The Lair of the Dragon!'

But Manosur laughed, looking slyly from Uöos to Pol-Chi and back again.

'The Dragon? Oh, no, Pol-Chi. The Dragon looks after its own kind alone. The Men must find the protection in the arms of Topar and not look to the Dragon.'

'They climb high into the mountains, then, Manosur?' Uöos asked in a persuasive voice.

'There are caves there, priest-magician.' He paused, and looked keenly at Uöos and Pol-Chi. 'Do you seek the protection of Topar?' He spoke softly. 'You are friends of the Brigan, who gave much joy to my family.'

Pol-Chi looked at the ground.

'But it is far from here, Manosur. The new guest is nigh.'

'Travelling light, day and night, it would not take long. The priest says the guest will arrive soon.'

Pol-Chi looked up.

'You do not seek Topar's protection?'

'We will travel fast, Pol-Chi. We are used to this country.

'Then, my friends, you should be on your way.'

Manosur gestured helplessly.

'The priest, Tantor, sends us to you. He has had another dream.'

'Tell me this dream now, Manosur. Then your obligation is at an end.'

'Very well, Tantor tells you that he saw a green field turn to stone. He wishes you to know this. He says you seek foolishly. There! Pol-Chi, that is his message.'

Pol-Chi bowed low, studying the blades of grass and yellow dust at his feet.

'Tell Tantor that I thank him from the bottom of his heart. Tell him this, tell him that it is the foolishness of men which requires the green field. In their fear, they will see only...well, see only stone.'

'Then you already know this, dreamer?'

Manosur did not hide his disappointment.

'Oh no, Manosur. You bring valuable information. Tantor tells me about the desire of men. I am grateful for that.' Again, Pol-Chi looked at the ground. 'In return, tell Tantor this, the woman-being has a cold heart. Tell him that men have made it so.'

'The woman-being has a cold heart. Men have made it so,' Manosur repeated. He shook his head. 'You are a fighter, Pol-Chi, yet you are as strange as a priest.'

He got to his feet with agility. Tirbad followed him. When Pol-Chi and Uöos were facing him, Manosur leaned his head forward and said in a low voice.

'Will you come with me, men of the south? Bring the women and the boy. They will be welcome.' He paused. 'Lovely Sora I know, but your woman, Pol-Chi, she radiates a rich pleasure,'

Pol-Chi shook his head.

'Stay for a while, Manosur. No man should be deprived of pleasure.'

It was Manosur's turn to shake his head.

'We must go, Pol-Chi. It grows late. But come with us. Now that you know this foolishness of men's desire, what need is there to stay?'

'The work is not done here, Manosur. But I thank you for your offer.'

'You must be a great saint, Pol-Chi, to offer yourself to such foolishness. They will have their stone whether you stay or not.'

Pol-Chi smiled warmly.

'Tell me, Manosur, do you know what lies beyond the stone?'

'No, Pol-Chi. But, then, I am not curious.'

Pol-Chi accompanied him to his horse.

'I will tell you anyway. Beyond the stone lies the secret of man. But the secret lies before it too.'

Manosur swung up into the saddle.

'Then you have hope, miracle worker.'

Pol-Chi held Manosur's reins to detain him a little longer.

'There is no need for hope, Manosur, for I am not a miracle man. I bring truth, for which no hope is required.'

Curious, Manosur leaned down.

'What is required, then, truth-bringer?'

'Clear eyes!'

Pol-Chi laughed loudly and slapped Manosur's horse. He called after him, 'Blessings on the next Age!'

Both Manosur and Tirbad looked back, waving, laughing wildly. They charged through the passing column, swerving skilfully, and galloped up the incline, a trail of dust rising behind them.

On the skyline they paused, rearing their horses in salute, and then turned and galloped out of sight.

Pol-Chi held his empty cup out to Uöos, who filled it.

'The Lair of the Dragon?' Pol-Chi mused.

'Men die of the green sickness there, Pol-Chi. You know that,' Uöos said, bending for his own cup.

' _Green_ sickness, Uöos. Do I see an omen there?'

'There are omens everywhere, Pol-Chi. You've said it yourself.'

Pol-Chi raised his cup to Uöos.

'I give you another omen, Uöos. This morning two birds flew out from under my feet. They flew north.'

Uöos took a long drink. Then he wiped his mouth.

'The Savages fly north now. It was they who were presaged, Pol-Chi.'

'Perhaps, Uöos. But _birds fly_ , in the air.'

'You must allow for analogy, Pol-Chi. You know that.'

Pol-Chi handed Uöos the wine cup.

'I'll tell you what I think, Uöos. There are three things in my mind which I cannot plausibly tie together, things which come from three different sources. The Savages say that the Dragon flies up to the stars. The archivists told you that men have flown to the stars. And Hepteidon once said that the prophecy he heard contained no superstition. Hepteidon was a man of science, as you know, so such a judgment is to be taken seriously.'

Uöos busied himself with his satchel, speaking in a muffled voice.

'How do you tie these three threads together, Pol-Chi?'

'Ha, Uöos, only by a foolish hope.'

Now Uöos looked sharply at Pol-Chi.

'Tell me, Pol-Chi. I am deeply interested.'

Pol-Chi began to walk away.

'No, Uöos. It contains too much sadness.' He looked back. 'I want no part of it.'

Uöos grabbed the reins of his horse and tugged it to follow him.

'No part in what, Pol-Chi?'

'In the truth, Uöos.'

'Pol-Chi, _what truth?_ '

Turning, arms akimbo, Pol-Chi shouted across the intervening expanse of dry yellow-brown grass:

' _There are men in the stars._ '

Uöos ran after him, pulling the horse and stumbling.

'Where is the sadness in that, Pol-Chi?'

Sweeping his hand towards the skyline above, Pol-Chi shouted bitterly.

'What of all these millions on earth, Uöos? _They are left to seek a miracle only!_ '

Chapter Sixteen

Lords, Officers, and soldiers of the Hu-An-Akar. Greetings from your kinsman Pol-Chi, Grand High Lord.

Kinsmen, I greet you on your arrival at the site of the End. before you is the An-Akar, which rises like a yellow mist in the morning, obscuring strange new countries, hiding the new place from your eyes.

Kinsmen, how do we clear this fog from our eyes? How do we pass through the An-Akar, the Gate of Shadows, the Gate of Death? I will speak to you plainly, for in the Last Days only honesty is possible. There is no future for lies or manoeuvres.

Kinsmen, how do we remove this fog? I will tell you. There must be a miracle! There must be a new thing among men. You all look now upon the yellow mist, what is this yellow mist? It is the foolishness of our thoughts. It is the compulsion of our wills! It is the blindness of our desires!

Kinsmen, we must here have an end to this foolishness, to this compulsion, to this blindness. We must strive, now that we face the yellow mist of the An-Akar in the Last Days of man, to put an end to thought, to will, even to desire.

Kinsmen, you must understand this: thinking does not make it so; willing does not make it so nor does desire make it so.

Kinsmen, you must understand this: There is nothing to be done! In the Last Days of man, at the entrance to the An-Akar, there is no longer time or place; there is no future; there is no hope. There is absolutely nothing to be done.

Kinsmen, stand now before the yellow mist of the An-Akar and understand what I, your leader and guide, tell you:

Think of nothing, strive for nothing, desire for nothing. Kinsmen, tell yourself that your past is nothing, that your world is nothing, your future is nothing.

Kinsmen, tell yourselves this last thing. This is the final thing to tell yourselves: I AM NOTHING!

Kinsmen, trust me, your guide, when I tell you these things. Only by becoming nothing will the new thing appear among men. Only in this way will the yellow mist disappear, and the An-Akar be passed.

Kinsmen, this is the miracle you seek!

Become nothing and you will see all there is to be seen!

Then look, Kinsmen, and behold the truth of men.

See into the Ek-Min, Kinsmen. See the Green Field of Peace!

'My Lord?'

When Little Ki saw that she had finally attracted Pol-Chi's attention, she rolled over on the bed of skins and pillows, carefully lifting and then settling her breasts, so that both lolled down one over the other, without dragging on her shoulders unduly.

Pol-Chi dismissed the scribe and put his hands on his knees.

'My Lord, why do you not tell them that there is no death?'

'Why, Slave, telling does not make it true.'

'But I believe you.'

'But you are a slave, Luxurious Pet.'

Little Ki looked down at her body in reaction. She spoke with a defensive meekness:

'Yet I do believe you, my Lord.'

'Ah, Slave, but do you believe yourself?'

Little Ki thought.

'But, my Lord, _I am_ the belief you give me, in the same way that I am the attention you give me, and the pleasure you give me.'

'Do I give you pleasure, Pet?'

'Ah, my Lord. No slave should acknowledge it, for it is not important. What a slave thinks, or feels or desires is of no importance.'

'That is true, Black Beauty. Yet you make it so. Why?'

'My Lord, once you made me happy. Insignificantly happy, perhaps. But you took away my fear. Then you made me useful and so satisfied me. Again, this was an insignificant satisfaction, a matter for myself alone. But, my Lord, you _gave_ these things to me. They were expressions of your magnanimity.'

Pol-Chi laughed, slapping his knee, gazing warmly at Little Ki in the low light of a single oil lamp. She glistened in curvaceous outline on the pale skins, the tent-wall a shadowed undetermined backdrop to the pool of soft reflected light that surrounded her.

'Perhaps, Imperial Slave. I am an inexperienced master. I don't know how to treat slaves properly. Perhaps you should have taught me.'

'But, my Lord, slaves cannot teach. By definition, only the higher can teach the lower.'

'But surely an experienced slave can show by her actions what is to be done?'

Little Ki looked down again and seemed to regard her right nipple. When she raised her head again, her expression was clouded.

'My Lord, there are two other things you gave me. I must list these before I can answer your question. You gave me a great truth. You told me that there is no death. Also, and it is this I want to emphasise now, you gave me _knowledge_ of freedom. I saw you _give_ Hepteidon his freedom. And I saw what be did once he had this freedom. May I continue?'

Pol-Chi nodded, leaning towards her.

'Thank you, my Lord. Now this knowledge of freedom raises many questions in me. In the first place, I asked myself, why did death follow the gift of freedom in Hepteidon's case? Here I believe that, somehow, Hepteidon in accepting his freedom could come to accept _his_ death. In that belief, I ask myself if in accepting _my_ freedom, will I then accept my death?'

'Little Ki, you must understand the limitations between men, and between women, and between men and woman. I did not give Hepteidon his freedom. I merely gave him the truth he sought. For another man or woman, for you, the truth could be different. But the important thing is that for all the truth is the same in a fundamental way. Hepteidon sought the truth in an idea of freedom that would release him from his particular bondage. In his freedom, he dies in order to seek love.'

'Ah, my Lord, forgive me if I interrupt. You say he sought love. You told me that you wanted to show me love when you returned to speak to Hepteidon. Is love the truth, then?'

'No, Little Ki. Love is but a mirror. Hepteidon seeks love because he thinks it is the truth. This is true in a way. But it is the final illusion for many like him. He seeks an ultimate symbol which, by being ultimate, is permanent and eternal. My Pet, Hepteidon died for this illusion. His final living act was to run away from the freedom he himself discovered.'

'My Lord, what you say frightens me.'

Pol-Chi scrambled over to her and held her uppermost shoulder, sinking his fingers into her deep flesh.

'No, Little Ki, don't take on another man's fear. Hepteidon's training compelled him to seek a final truth that was of the intellect, a static truth. For him the mirroring of man by man, as love, is that static truth. Others, more presumptuous, like the poet, seek it on a higher level. They seek to find man mirrored in divinity. The poet seeks to find the stasis in the embrace of the goddess.'

'My Lord, what does the slave seek?'

'Her master.'

'Is this a static truth?'

Pol-Chi smiled at her.

'In one way, yes, but in another way, no. Tell me, Little Ki, why did the Emperor tell Hsin to die?'

Little Ki showed surprise at the question.

'Hsin? He was the perfect slave, my Lord. He allowed his will, and thus his whole life and fate, to be constituted by his master's will. Hsin told Hepteidon that the Emperor willed his death because he momentarily forgot he was a slave.'

'And because?'

Little Ki's eyes widened. She finally broke her gaze and looked down at her body.

'And because, Imperial Slave?'

She tensed her shoulders and dropped her chin onto her chest. Pol-Chi took his hand away. She did not look up as she spoke.

'Three things come to mind, my Lord. Two from memory and the third from my reason. The first is my memory of why the Emperor, my master, gave me away. I betrayed a willingness to see him die by his own will. The second is what you said to Hepteidon after Sora had mutilated him. You told him that he could not utter the truth now.' She looked up into Pol-Chi's eyes. ' _Did Hepteidon utter the truth? Is freedom not the truth?_ '

Pol-Chi merely crinkled his eyes and prompted.

'The third thing, Little Ki? From your reason.'

'My Lord, _Hsin showed the Emperor a truth_! Hepteidon once told me of a thing that puzzled him. Hsin had explained to him that in some way he was dead merely because the Emperor had expressed his Will. Yet Hsin did not actually die until Hepteidon _himself_ had secretly willed his death. What perplexed Hepteidon was the possibility that Hsin obeyed his, Hepteidon's, will rather than that of the Emperor. But, I ask myself now, _why did Hepteidon wish for Hsin's death_? Hsin would have been very useful to him, yet he sought his death that night. Why? For the same reason that the Emperor had condemned Hsin? _He showed Hepteidon the truth that night._ '

Pol-Chi nodded repeatedly.

'And, Little Ki?'

'I will not say it, my Lord.'

'Then I will ask it, Imperial Slave. Do all slaves possess this truth in the very fact of their slavery?'

Little Ki gave a gasp and rolled on to her back, letting her breasts slide as they would.

'You merely freed Hepteidon from his slavery, my Lord! But again I ask you, _did he utter the truth then?_ '

'What did he say, Little Ki. Can you remember?'

'He said nothing, my Lord. He simply thanked you and fell on the point of the sword.'

'Did he express the truth in that?'

Little Ki rolled her eyes, looking beyond the lamplight to the dark roof of the tent.

'If, as you say, he sought love in death, then he did not.'

Pol-Chi leaned forward over her, catching her eyes again.

'How do you know, Slave?' Little Ki stared back.

' _I did not know until you showed me the futility of love and death_. Before that, my Lord, it was merely in me.'

Pol-Chi sat back. Little Ki strained her eyes to look down her body at him.

'Tell me, my Lord, if you will, how do you know?'

Pol-Chi laughed.

'I am a slave, too, Imperial Pet. But the Goddess told me what my fear was.'

'What was it?'

'A fear of silence.'

'And you are no longer afraid of silence?'

'I live in silence.'

Little Ki nodded as well as she could. Then she let her head fall back. She rubbed her brow with her forearm.

'But you are free, my Lord. You live in the truth.'

'And you, Little Ki?'

'I am a slave, master. I possess the truth for others only.'

'You do not have the freedom of it, is that so?'

'As Hsin said indirectly, I am, as a slave, the expression of my master's truth. _The truth is hidden in the slave – in this way the master has freedom._ '

'So freedom is an illusion, then, Beautiful Slave?'

'As you showed Hepteidon.'

'Yet you say I am free.'

'You are free of your fear. '

'But does that contain the illusion of freedom?'

'You live in silence, Pol-Chi. _Is that an illusion?_ '

'I follow my goddess' wisdom. _Is my goddess an illusion?_ '

'Is she, Pol-Chi?'

'As I know her, yes, for all knowledge is illusion. But as she is, no, for she is the presence of the possibility of becoming true.'

'What is her presence, Pol-Chi?'

'She is present in the dark, Little Ki. Yet she is dark.'

'How then are you aware of her, Pol-Chi?'

'She is beautiful, Little Ki.'

'What is her truth?'

Pol-Chi remained silent.

Little Ki sat up and leaned forward, her breasts touching her knees.

'What does she seek of you, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi stared at her.

'Does she seek your death, Pol-Chi? They say the goddess seeks sacrifice from her priests and poets.'

'Do you wish my death, Little Ki?'

Little Ki suddenly laughed, sending her whole body atremble.

'Oh, Pol-Chi, you gave your life already, in the illusion of love.'

Pol-Chi nodded.

'What does your goddess require of you, Pol-Chi?' Little Ki repeated.

'The softening of her heart, Little Ki.'

'How?'

Pol-Chi shrugged with ironic amusement.

'I don't know.'

'So you fail her too, Pol-Chi?'

Little Ki broke her attention suddenly and looked towards the entrance to the tent. The flap was pulled aside and Sora stepped in, wearing her old black gown instead of the yellow gown. Her head was bowed.

She sat down at the wall just beside the entrance. In the gloom, only the lustre of her brown skin could be seen.

Pol-Chi waited until she had seated herself before shouting harshly at her.

'How is the heart of my goddess softened, Sora?'

She remained silent, her eyes closed.

To Little Ki, Pol-Chi said loudly.

'I have given her all that I know to give. I have given my love, my life, my seed. I have assumed the darkness in my heart and silence in my mind. Hepteidon showed me that rape and mutilation are of no avail. What else is there, Black Beauty?'

Little Ki smiled at him.

'What is it that only man can give, Pol-Chi?'

'To a goddess? _Only that which she can take_ , Little Ki.'

Little Ki shook her head sadly.

'Ah, Pol-Chi. _It must be given._ '

Pol-Chi slumped. He looked down at the paleness of his palms.

'Again, Little Ki, I do not know.'

But Little Ki pressed him.

'You thought once that you knew, Pol-Chi. What did you believe?'

Pol-Chi looked up quickly. He stared at Little Ki's questioning face, then glanced across at Sora, he smiled.

'Little Ki, as you said, it was once in me, but then I learned how to know it. But what I learned is only a product of human understanding. It is this, the archivists of Mu-Ra told Uöos that man seeks reunion with that from which he is separated. So, what the goddess seeks, on this hypothesis, is the return of man. Only the last man in the Last Days could perceive this. But only the last man of all men ever could grant it.

'Little Ki, these are the Last Days of this Age of man. Soon, Ilgem will devastate the earth. _But it will not destroy all men_. Therefore, the goddess cannot be granted her desire, for no man has the power in this case.'

'Little Ki, I will tell you what the goddess wants, the only thing which will soften her heart: _she wants man to end all motion.'_

Little Ki glanced at Sora and then hissed. 'What else do you know, man-of-the-Goddess?'

Pol-Chi drew himself in, bringing his elbows into his groin and clasping his hands.

'In the real Last Days of men, this truth will be apparent, for it will be the cause of man's self extinction. All men in that time will see not only the futility of love and death, of will and desire, but also of all motion in the universes. Man will then renounce knowledge and act. He will cease to exist. In that cessation, all things will cease to exist.

'Now, I tell you something, Little Ki. Beyond the light and the dark there is only nothing, as I learned long ago. But in learning this, I sought nothing in itself, thinking it was the truth. But it is not the truth. In the nothing, I found precisely what is there – nothing. This is the final illusion of man, the other side of love. For there man seeks, in his utter despair, the denial of himself. To make that denial is merely to enter a new illusion.

'But, Little Ki, the truth is otherwise. To seek the nothing is merely to will it into existence. To enter this illusion is to escape the goddess. The truth is that man must stop. Man must realise that motion has no purpose, because it is necessarily given none. Motion, as Hepteidon discovered to his utter dismay, is free. But what Hepteidon could not recognise, because he was too afraid, was that man himself made motion free. Motion is in a sense man's real slave, for motion hides his truth from man.

'Now, on one level, the human slave hides this fact from man because he or she encapsulates man's own bondage to the condition he has created for himself. In his or herself, the slave is free, because the only control which exists in the slave is that exercised by the master. This is the truth the slave possesses. Man projects the desire which is precisely opposite to his actual condition, a desire for absolute control. In his actual condition man in fact is absolutely unwilling to control: his condition is that of pure freedom.

'But this freedom is without purpose and man denies this fact. Here he denies that he even created this freedom himself.

'On another level, which was shown to me by Hepteidon, man's reason, as such, is the internal expression of slavery. Here man claims to know. By the exercise of number, he claims to control, by means of knowledge, that which he secretly does not wish to control. Thus the incompleteness of measure, and the pure act of self-reflection it demonstrates, in that number always remains in itself while appearing to measure things, shows the illusion of man's self love in its most pure and abstracted form.

'This love, Little Ki, is man's most seductive illusion, for it comes closest to expressing the true resolution of man's condition. Ostensibly, it expresses man's desire for union. In fact, it betrays man's real unwillingness to achieve union, for it operates, as I learned for myself, only in terms of what each man and woman wants for his or herself. Again, what is wanted is absolute control. Where it does get beyond mere desire, and this I learned also, to the self-giving, it always seeks either self-denial, which is nothingness, or a reciprocal giving, which is a conspiracy of mutual control, that, once again, denies man's primordial establishment of freedom.'

Little Ki seemed to be swooning. She spoke in a pitched voice, as though in response.

'Tell me, Pol-Chi, what is it that the goddess desires of man?'

'Little Ki,' Pol-Chi said earnestly, 'she wants man to stop. She wants man to return to being. In the achievement of this being, there will be an end to motion and to its corollary, nothingness.'

Again, Little Ki glanced over at Sora. Pol-Chi continued urgently:

'But, Little Ki, the goddess cannot by asking receive this. Nor can it come about just by her desiring it. Man does not even give her anything. Man merely puts an end to his present condition. That is why Hepteidon lay on the sword and that is why Korkungal allowed himself to be murdered. But _death in itself is not the cessation_. What Hepteidon, and Korkungal, now know is that _motion is endlessly free_. They continue in motion until man's real condition is ended.'

Sora suddenly spoke from the gloom.

'What of all the deaths that are impending, Pol-Chi? Can they have meaning?'

'Not in the search for knowledge, lovely Sora,' Pol-Chi said bitterly, not turning to look at her. 'But if you and Uöos stay, then you might experience a meaning.'

Little Ki looked from Pol-Chi to Sora with surprise and then curiosity.

'Do you go, Sora?' she asked.

'It is omened, Little Ki,' Pol-Chi said harshly.

'What meaning could we experience, Pol-Chi?' Sora asked levelly.

'We will make a miracle here, little Sora.'

'But the truth you have spoken about, Pol-Chi,' Sora said anxiously. 'You said you would show a truth.'

'I cannot show truths, Sora. That is impossible even for goddesses. I can only create the conditions in which truth might be _seen_. Even a goddess can only do that.'

Little Ki lay back and grinned at Pol-Chi at such an angle that Sora couldn't see.

'You make a miracle, Guide of men?'

Pol-Chi smiled down at her.

'I do, Black Beauty.'

'What miracle, Pol-Chi?' Sora asked importunately, rising and approaching.

Pol-Chi regarded her, staring up.

'A miracle of the men of earth, Sora.'

'But how will it be performed?'

'Ah, Sora. Don't you know? A miracle is not performed. It is established at the proper moment.'

'But what kind of miracle, Pol-Chi?' Sora flashed impatiently.

'There is always only one kind of miracle, Sora.' Pol-Chi answered mildly. 'That is the only knowledge I can give you of it.'

Sora gripped her hands, staring down at Pol-Chi with annoyance and frustration.

He smiled at her discomfort.

'But you can have experience of it, Sora my lovely love, even though I cannot give you knowledge of it.'

Sora bent over him and shouted uncharacteristically:

' _You fool_! Why can't you be satisfied with what you have now? You have been given everything you desired. Why do you now retreat into this primitive mystery-talk?'

Pol-Chi laughed and looked at Little Ki.

'She is so like Hepteidon, Black Beauty. Isn't she?'

Little Ki brightened in her sudden awareness.

When she looked at Sora, she said to Pol-Chi,

'And what illusion does she chase, man-of-magic?'

Pol-Chi laughed again and dismissed her question with a wave of his hand.

'If only she knew, Imperial Pet. Yet, I admit, for once she does seek rather than give.'

Sora hissed and spun about, her gown billowing back, and ducked out of the tent.

Little Ki watched her go, her attempt at suppressing her triumph not entirely successful. Then she turned to Pol-Chi.

'What does she seek?'

Pol-Chi rolled over and scrambled to his feet.

'Why, Little Ki, she seeks the salvation of men. Didn't you know that?'

Little Ki showed surprise.

'That is a great thing, Pol-Chi. Why do you refuse to help her?'

'She has done all she can, Imperial Cow. I grant her that. But she wants to _give_ salvation.'

Little Ki obediently scrambled up on to her hands and knees, presenting her broad, but slightly too protuberant, buttocks to Pol-Chi. Her voice muffled, she asked:

'Yet, my Lord, you do something else. Something which appears to go beyond her. Is it something new?'

'I doubt it, my Little Cow. The history of man is long.' He knelt in behind her, allowing the sight of her beauties to arouse him.

'My Lord,' Little Ki suddenly asked, 'do you do this miracle for me also?'

Pol-Chi bent over her back and grasped her full pendulous breasts, squeezing them with a deep sigh.

'I do it for you especially, my Lady. For you are the most deserving.'

He entered her with all his force, sinking deep into her hot, moist flesh, knowing that in her training, amplitude and strength this gave her most pleasure.

Between gasps, Little Ki said.

'But I am only a slave, master-bull.'

Pol-Chi drove into her again, throwing his whole weight down on her, feeling the immense soft roundness of her hanging breasts on his palms.

'We are all slaves, mistress cow.'

He laughed with the sudden rush of pleasure.

'That's another truth.'

When Pol-Chi slumped on her, Little Ki sustained his weight for a time, head up and taut, a fever in her spine. Then, smoothly, she surrendered and allowed his weight to bear her down.

Crushed by him, she suddenly said, winded.

'I _see_ that I cannot deny you, my Lord.'

'Sora guided you,' Pol-Chi murmured at her ear.

Little Ki throbbed with laughter.

'Uöos. It is among friends, They mean no harm, Pol-Chi.'

But mercifully, Pol-Chi rolled off her before he laughed.

Chapter Seventeen

Pol-Chi finished speaking and watched his priest-secretary inscribe the remaining symbols. The noon sun was pleasantly hot. In the west Ilgem was setting, squat and ocherous, partly obscured by the dust raised by the approaching Army.

When his priest-secretary had finished, Pol-Chi said:

'Have it copied now, Plia. Be sure there are sufficient copies for distribution to the army scribes. We will need ten thousand copies by tomorrow.'

Two riders appeared on the skyline, paused, and then galloped down the incline towards the hill.

Uöos studied them as he walked carefully towards Pol-Chi. He limped slightly, going down on his left leg.

'Uöos.'

'Pol-Chi.'

Uöos sat in the chair vacated by the priest-secretary.

'Who comes, Uöos?'

'Red tunics, Pol-Chi. Imperial couriers.'

'Ah, yes. It is time for that.'

'What will he do?'

'Take command, of course, Uöos.'

'Of what, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi laughed, throwing his head back, hooding his eyes.

'Of the invasion, Uöos.'

Uöos seemed to shrink in his chair.

The riders disappeared from view below. The sound of the hooves changed as the horses crossed the marshy strip.

'Then your task will be finished, Pol-Chi?'

'I do not know, Uöos. What is my task?'

'Sora says you mean to work a miracle.'

'I mean to make a miracle possible, Uöos.'

'What if it fails?'

'Who's to say whether it fails or not, Uöos?'

The ground was beginning to tremble. Then the riders came over the brow, savagely urging their lathering horses on. Once the couriers saw the seated figures they eased up. Immediately the horses slackened to a broken canter.

'We seek the Grand High Lord Pol-Chi.'

'You speak to him, kinsmen.'

'We come from His Imperial Majesty. Already he has passed through the approaching Armies and will arrive here soon. He orders that there is to be no ostentatious welcome, for he comes as General-Commander in the field. Thus he requires military protocol only.'

Pol-Chi swung his foot. The couriers watched his foot swinging.

'The Emperor is a practical man, kinsmen. We will do him honour in accordance with his rank.' He pointed beyond the yellow pavilions to the row of military tents. 'Rest now, kinsmen. There you will find refreshment.'

But the couriers turned instead and swung into their saddles.

'Thank you, my Lord. But we were instructed to return immediately.'

They saluted and wheeled their winded horses, forcing them down the hill at a gallop.

Pol-Chi laughed airily.

'There are great things under way, Uöos. The Emperor prepares to conquer the earth.'

Uöos leaned forward, intent.

'Pol-Chi, how do you know Ilgem will devastate the earth?'

'How do you know it won't, Uöos?'

Uöos shrugged, still intent.

'But have you considered the possibility, Pol-Chi?'

'I have, Uöos. However, you forget that it is as Hepteidon said. It is not the star which threatens man, but his fear. That fear is real, you have seen its effect yourself. You see, Uöos, even if the earth is not devastated, the fear in man is driving him towards his own destruction.

'Already our Empire has fallen apart. The coming of the Emperor proves this. He flees Ka-Ra to seek the last remnant of Imperial order here. And the fear in him is such that he will use this remnant to wreak destruction in the remainder of the world.'

'Would your miracle prevent this?'

'Uöos, you know it has been foreseen that I will receive a green stone. Do you know the meaning of this? No? Well, tell me, old man of the stars, what on earth most resembles a green stone?'

Uöos merely nodded.

'You see, Uöos? The least I do is to prepare the unprepared for a happy death. I wish to show the valiant, the outward-turned, what those who stayed in their homes have already learned.'

Uöos tensed and asked urgently:

'What have they learned, Pol-Chi?'

Laughing, Pol-Chi replied:

'Oh, I can tell you, man-of-knowledge, but that is not the same as experiencing it.'

'But tell me anyway, Pol-Chi.'

'Very well, though it will appear trite in words, as miracles appear trite to the unbeliever. It is simply this: They look within. That is all.'

Uöos sat back, obviously disappointed.

'So this is your miracle, Pol-Chi? You will make men look inwards. In this way they will not notice their destruction.'

Pol-Chi shook his head, laughing loudly.

'Oh, Uöos, that is crude.' Quietening, he said sharply: 'Old man, I am not a priest. I don't seek to mystify.'

Uöos was irritable.

'But that is how it seems, Pol-Chi.'

'That is because you still seek to understand the miracle, old man of knowledge. I repeat, there is only the experiencing of it. I cannot tell you more because I don't know what will happen in the miracle.'

Uöos grimaced, tapping one foot abstractly.

Ilgem had set behind the dust cloud.

Pol-Chi shifted in his chair.

'Let me do this for you, Uöos. You remember the dream of the Savage priest which perplexed you?' Uöos nodded, watching Pol-Chi warily. 'Well, I will explain it to you. As you know, there are three elements. There is the male-being, the men he creates, and the female-being man creates. The significance of the dream turns on the fact that the male-being is tied to the incomplete female being, is that not so? The result of this attachment is the decay of the cosmic order.

'Now, I will tell you the real meaning. In the first place, Uöos, you must be aware that it is a story told by a man. Therefore, it is a man's version of the cosmic calamity. But man hides from himself the real condition. Thus, in explaining the story, the order of the tale must be reversed. So, there is a female-being who is whole, united with the male-being. This male-being creates man, and it is this act which mutilates the female-being. This mutilation is the hardening of her heart. So the dream-story tells us that man should strive to soften her heart by re-establishing the union of male and female beings.

'You see, Uöos, the male-being and the men he is said to create are in fact the same being. Note that.'

Uöos nodded.

'This is what you told Sora last night, Pol-Chi. But you merely exploit the philosophy of the archivists of Mu-Ra,

Pol-Chi slapped his knees and shouted.

'Sora! Uöos, isn't it a good thing to see Sora seek instead of giving? There is hope in that.'

Uöos smiled wryly, nodding.

'Perhaps, Uöos, she will relent.'

'I don't understand, Pol-Chi. In what way should she relent?'

'It will ensure the miracle if she relents, Uöos. We have all relented. Korkungal and Hepteidon relented, though it did lead to error. I have relented, but I don't think I have erred yet. Even Little Ki has relented and she can't err. I know you have not relented, but that is dependent upon Sora relenting.'

Uöos looked at Pol-Chi with amazement.

'What do you mean, relent?'

'We all relented to Sora. Now we draw her to relent.'

'But Korkungal and Hepteidon are dead!'

'Of course. That is their power.' Pol-Chi was earnest. 'And when she relents, you will see the possibility of relenting.'

Uöos jumped up.

'What kind of magic is this, Pol-Chi? What do you mean to do to Sora?'

Pol-Chi sat back and interlaced his fingers across his stomach.

'Only to give her what she seeks, Uöos,' he said reasonably.

Uöos turned and looked at the yellow pavilion he shared with Sora and Griron.

'What does she seek, Pol-Chi?'

'The softening of her heart, of course, Uöos.'

Turning abruptly, Uöos came and stood over Pol-Chi, his eyes wide, his fists clenched.

'This game of goddesses has gone too far, Pol-Chi. It is making you mad.'

'Then it has made us all mad, Uöos. Sora sought something from us and we gave it to her. I, for my part, made her a goddess.'

'But you can't make goddesses. That's superstitious nonsense.'

'Ask Sora, old man of reason. Ask her to deny that she is a goddess.'

Uöos shook his fists in frustration and ran across to the pavilion, calling Sora's name.

Sora brought Griron with her, straddling her hip. Uöos spoke rapidly to her as they approached Pol-Chi.

She stood before him, her eyes bright with an ambiguous passion.

Behind her, Uöos called,

'Deny this nonsense now, Sora! Let us have an end to his superstitious madness.'

Pol-Chi waited until Uöos was silent. Then he said gently to Sora.

'Do you deny me, lovely Sora? Do you deny what I gave you at such cost?'

Sora put Griron down, on the grass. He sat where he was placed, clutching the hem of Sora's black gown, looking up at Pol-Chi.

Uöos came round her and stared closely into her face.

The struggle in Sora was short. She was suddenly calm. 'No, Pol-Chi.'

Pol-Chi waited now until Uöos looked at him. 'You see, Uöos? She cannot deny what she herself established.'

'But you are not a goddess, Sora! Tell him that, at least.'

The old remoteness appeared in Sora's eyes. From that remoteness, she regarded Uöos.

'Sora!

Uöos stepped back, aghast at what he saw in her eyes

– Such remote unrelenting bitterness!

Pol-Chi was kicking his foot again.

'You see, Uöos? Her heart is cold. _What did you do to her_?'

Caught between Sora's gaze and Pol-Chi's unexpected question, Uöos was placatory.

'It's not what I have done. It's what time has done... Sora...'

'You live too long, old man?'

'Sora, don't let him affect you like this...We all live too long, Pol-Chi.'

Uöos reached and tentatively touched Sora's shoulder. But she shrugged him away and stepped closer to Pol-Chi.

'I know, Sora, isn't that right?' he said gently. 'Only I know.'

The bitterness in her eyes eased.

'You are ever-lovely, Sora. It surprises me that no man has ever touched your heart, even though many no doubt gave you theirs.'

Sora merely sneered and turned away. Picking up Griron, she went back to the yellow pavilion.

Pol-Chi rested, watching the declining sun and the dust cloud.

Uöos sat down again.

'I don't understand, Pol-Chi.'

'I told you I made her a goddess, didn't I?'

'But I thought it was just a poetic phantasy.'

'Don't words have meaning, Uöos?'

'Yes,' Uöos involuntarily said, stunned, 'They must have.'

'If they haven't, Uöos, then their use is an empty charade.'

Uöos stared at the ground.

'So this is how you make your miracle, Pol-Chi. Words make it so?'

'Not words alone, Uöos.'

Uöos suddenly remembered his earlier suspicion.

'What part does Sora have in it? No, wait. Let me think this out. The miracle is intended to resolve the condition you see in Tantor's dream, and as described by the archivists. You intend uniting your goddess to...' Uöos looked up with horror. 'Pol-Chi, you seek to link Sora in some way to...five million men! But that would kill her, Pol-Chi! Don't you see that?'

Pol-Chi was kicking his foot more rapidly.

'Uöos, think more. It is either possible or it isn't. We should learn that, at least. However...'

' _This is madness_? Pol-Chi! You carry out an experiment which will risk Sora's life, yet you've already said that you will not be able to tell whether it has worked or not.'

'Uöos, let me finish. Little Ki will protect Sora's life. She...'

'But that's just as bad, Pol-Chi. Is it because she is the plaything of an Emperor that makes her more expendable?'

' _Shut up_ , Uöos. You gabble like an old woman. Now, _listen_! I grow impatient with your curiosity. You don't want to know what I am doing, old man from the stars, You merely want to find out if your work of study here is finished.

'But I will explain something of what I do. But understand this much now, not all the parts are in place yet. When the time of the miracle comes, it might well be that circumstances will change the roles of us all.

'But I will explain. Below us, the soldiers will experience the miracle of the An-Akar. Up here, Sora the goddess will necessarily accept the outcome of the miracle of the An-Akar. But only in part. You know that Little Ki and her predecessors have been called the Black Goddesses of the Empire. There, again, words must have meaning. Little Ki, in that case, expresses the deepest movement of the Imperial Will, its deepest desire. Below will be the soldiers of the Empire, the slaves of the Imperial Will. Some measure of their...em, reaction, will express this Will. This will be projected onto Little Ki. And...Uöos, do you understand? It is complicated. Speaking of it is not good.'

Uöos was trembling.

'It is madness and magic, Pol-Chi. It is all a sham!' He collected himself. 'Pol-Chi, now listen to me. You drive me to tell you things you're not supposed to know. Do you know how the Miracle of the North was performed? It was easy, though it required a lot of planning. We are...'

Surprised by Pol-Chi's dismissive gesture, Uöos fell silent, staring open-mouthed.

'Yes, Uöos. But what you don't understand is that you, too, merely made the conditions of the miracle possible.'

' _Nonsense_ , Pol-Chi. We gave you...'

'You produced the focus at the end, Uöos. You did not create the storm. You did not create the _calm_ , nor the healing power, nor the real miracle of the game with Sora.'

'What miracle with Sora?'

'Can't you remember?'

'No. There was a game, Pol-Chi. I remember that. But not what happened. You told us not to remember...' Uöos sat bolt upright. ' _And I didn't remember!_ ' He shook his head violently, as though to throw off something. ' _What happened there_ , Pol-Chi?'

'Ask Sora. But she won't tell you.'

'And then Hepteidon killed Korkungal, and _afterwards he arranged this!_ '

Pol-Chi lay back in his chair, glancing with satisfaction at a new turmoil in the dust cloud.

Uöos stared, his eyes flicking, as though from one dancing object to another. His hands were clenched in concentration. When he spoke, there was a humility in his voice.

'Pol-Chi, you seem to play with forces I do not understand.'

'Ah, man-of-reason, you admit to ignorance.'

'No, Pol-Chi, I merely make a statement. No judgment is implied.'

Pol-Chi waved at him.

'Oh, _fuck your logic_. You either understand or you don't understand.' Pol-Chi leaned towards him. 'But understand this, old man of reason, _the middle space has gone_. Whether you understand or not is no longer important. You're caught in the net of forces, as you call them, now. There is only one way out, Uöos, the way Korkungal and Hepteidon took. But you cannot take it, for that would be the death of Sora. Now, _do you understand that?_ '

Pleading, Uöos said,

'What have you done to us, Pol-Chi? We came to help you, but you are destroying everything.'

'Can you stop Ilgem, man of the stars?'

'No. It's beyond our available means. It would...'

'So you told the old Brigan priest. Don't you know that you set these forces, as you call them, in operation?'

'I did not believe it possible, Pol-Chi. If it is not magic, because you do not claim that it is magic, then what forces have been called up?'

'Look to your philosophy, old man. You know the answer.'

Uöos stared, awareness heightening.

Pol-Chi nodded.

'If words have meaning, Uöos. If human understanding has any reality, then it is as the archivists say it is.'

'But are you not sceptical, Pol-Chi? Before, your scepticism saved you from error.'

'There is no longer any time for scepticism, Uöos. _These are the Last Days_. Can't you understand even that?'

'But this philosophy, Pol-Chi, _can't you understand that it might not be true?_ '

'Uöos, if I believed instead, for whatever reason, that the marriage of the sun and moon, or even the resurrection of, say, Korkungal, was required, don't you know that I would seek that? No, wait, Uöos, I will relent with you, for you have come to understand much that you were unwilling to understand. Three insights, from different sources, gather here to instruct and guide me. In my own poem, the very line that Hepteidon baulked at is the one concerning the reference to the cold heart of the goddess:

And within a gown sheer black she wears

The Mark of Man: a Heart grown cold.

'Thus, Hepteidon the man of science involuntarily expressed the deep knowledge of men. Then I heard of Tantor's dream, which you could not understand. But I saw, at least, though not in full awareness, the significance of the reference to an incomplete female. Then when I heard the philosophy of the archivists of Mu-Ra, again I saw incompleteness.

'You see, old man, it is not my own delusion which I follow, nor that of the archivists, nor merely that of an old impotent priest of the Savages. But each source connects with the others at one particular point. More, Uöos, and I tell you this to show you that I am not just an impressionable rhymester, there is the matter of the different responses to this _symbol_. In my case, I saw the goddess as active, seeking to go beyond man. I was the pessimistic lover, content to be left with the darkness. Old Tantor sought to escape his impotence by urging men to help his female-being, who nonetheless is loved. But among the archivists, the dry scepticism of reason precluded any solution, leading only to laughter, the laughter of the self-love of the ever-busy at the edges of understanding.

'But, again, Uöos, I saw in the _emptiness_ of the most abstract concepts of the archivists a glimmer of truth, in the link they made in laughter between what they called divinity and death. In Tantor's case, it was easier to see the truth, once I knew where to look, Tantor's male-being has the power which the old priest lacked. However, it was not a matter of inversion only, for men had a part in the female-being's incompleteness. The men also have a power that Tantor lacked, yet they made an incomplete woman. You see, Uöos, on the divine plane, as it were, everything should be in order. But it is on the human plane that the disorder originates. This is where the inversion occurs. In order, then, for man to conceive of himself as potent and whole, it is necessary for him to conceive of an impotent and incomplete divinity, to use the archivists term, though perhaps Tantor's word "being" might be more applicable, if it did not imply a duality of beings.'

Uöos looked mollified and interested.

'There's solid thought in that, Pol-Chi. You are a great philosopher.'

'Oh, philosophy my arse, Uöos. You are an incorrigible pedant.'

Uöos nodded contritely.

'You are right, Pol-Chi. It's hard to change the habits of... But one thing you haven't explained yet. What of your own poem? What attitude does it betray?'

Pol-Chi laughed.

'I don't know, old man. I cannot see behind myself. In any case, I'm not a philosopher. I am a creator, Uöos. As such, I cannot know what I do. If I did, then there would be no creation in it.'

Uöos was suddenly concerned.

'Then you could be in danger, miracle-worker? I had not thought of that. I forgot that you are at the centre of the forces you arouse.'

'What danger, old man?'

'You could be destroyed, my friend. Haven't you considered that possibility?'

'Do you value life that much, Uöos? Don't you know that all motion continues?'

'You are courageous, Pol-Chi.' Uöos said with feeling. 'You do a great thing for man.'

Pol-Chi laughed blithely and looked away. He was in time to see the head of the Imperial column gallop over the skyline and begin the descent to the river. They raised a great deal of dust.

'Red armour,' he muttered.

Uöos started and squinted against the declining sun.

'The Imperial colour,' he agreed. 'The Emperor intends an invasion, fear or no fear.'

Pol-Chi kicked his foot.

'Destruction or no destruction.' Suddenly he bent across to Uöos. 'Tell me, how big is Ilgem?'

Uöos hesitated, then said.

'Almost as big as the moon.'

Pol-Chi nodded.

'How soon, old man?'

Again Uöos hesitated, but his feelings impelled him.

'In a few days there will be the first signs.'

Pol-Chi leaned back, seemingly satisfied.

'So soon. There won't be time for an invasion.'

'An invasion, Pol-Chi? That's irrelevant.'

'Not entirely, Uöos.'

They saw the Emperor now, surrounded by tall Northern axemen mounted on white horses. Their bronze armour was brazen in the golden sunlight.

'He brings his own army, Uöos.'

'He brings Hepteidon's axemen.'

'Ah, the berserkers. The Emperor is in his extremity, Uöos.'

'Will he prevent your miracle, then, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi looked behind him at the now golden mist on the river. He pointed to it.

'The way must be cleared for the invasion, Uöos.' He laughed. 'At least, for the truth concerning the invasion.'

Uöos looked around at the mist visible between the pavilions.

'What truth, Pol-Chi?'

'Wait and see. It has not been created yet.'

Below them, they heard the first horses cross the marshy strip.

Pol-Chi got up and went across to the black military tents, shouting to call out his servants and soldiers.

The Emperor must be welcomed, as befits his rank in the field.

Chapter Eighteen

'It is a new time, Little Ki,' Pol-Chi said gently. 'In the new time there are new ways. Let the new ways be.'

Little Ki moved towards him in a desire for reassurance.

'But if the Emperor asserts his claim, Pol-Chi?'

'Then you must act according to the new way.'

'But I don't know the new way, as you call it.' Little Ki said with mild exasperation.

Pol-Chi stroked her perfect shoulder to calm her. 'Little Ki, trust me. The way is in you.'

She nodded submissively, biting her lip, staring at the grass made yellow by torchlight.

Pol-Chi looked to the west, towards the setting waning moon. The dust cloud was higher, enveloping the moon in its gauzy extremities.

The movement of five million men created a low rumble that filled the night with eerie disturbance. Already the leading units had reached the skyline above the river: a line of torches marked the edge of the plain, fading on either side, north and south, into the distance. Now and again singing could be heard from the throats of thousands and tens of thousands of marching soldiers.

The Hu-An-Akar was arriving.

Pol-Chi turned away, pausing momentarily to look at the river mist, faint and yellow in the weakening moonlight. Then he looked north, sorting through the innumerable stars till he found Le Tlu, the North Star, winking steadily at him.

Without Ilgem, it was like the eve of an invasion.

'Little Ki, I tell you one thing. Be yourself. And learn from it if you wish.'

He took her hand. She gave him a bright smile, full of trust at this moment of crisis.

A place for the huge red Imperial pavilion had been found by simply moving the black military tents off the hill. It stood out in the night, clearly visible to those who wished to see it, illuminated by a ring of torches. Under each torch stood a Brigan axeman, stiffly to attention in heavy bronze armour, red shields masking faces, the naked steel of the axe blades the only relief from the harsh, threatening appearance of these stock-still, staring warriors.

The Chamberlain greeted them at the entrance to the pavilion, dressed only in a simple red tunic, shivering slightly in the cool night air.

He raised his hands expansively, palms out, when he recognised Little Ki. He made no attempt to hide the frankness of his eyes – while this freedom of sight was allowed, nothing else was.

'Ah, my dear Little Ki, His Imperial Majesty will be so happy to see you. He has never ceased to regret your absence from his side.'

Little Ki looked at him once only. She did it abstractly, setting her mouth in a smiling grimace, extending her arm to brush him aside.

The Chamberlain fell back, nodding his head as if to admit the propriety of her behaviour, but seeing instantly, though not for the first time, that the unspeakable held sway in this wilderness.

When he turned to the Grand High Lord of the invasion army, he instantly saw the source of the unspeakable. He bowed gracefully, hitching an imaginary cloak, and began:

'My gracious Grand High Lord, may I welcome you on behalf of his Imp...'

'Of course, Kenhartdu. Why not?'

The Merura noble reeled in shock, but his face merely registered a bland ingratiating look.

'My Lord, one must observe the protocol.'

Pol-Chi paused and clasped his hands at his belly. He smiled.

The power of the unspeakable!

The Chamberlain realised instantly that he should have returned to his estates in the high homeland of the Merura, as all the nobles of Ka-Ra had done. Because it was true -The Empire was dead!

He looked at the new power. He saw a stout middle-aged black with greying hair at the temples and crinkled eyes, and realised that

the Emperor should kill this man at once.

Then he saw the futility of it. –

'Chamberlain, your dedication to duty in these troubled times does you credit. May you receive your just reward.'

– The Empire was dead. The only hope lay in the invasion. The new Empire would have a new capital, goodness knows where, and a new nobility, perhaps these black-skinned military leaders or the white-skinned madmen.

'I thank you, my Grand High Lord. Attention to one's duty is an especial necessity in these times.'

– But this man, the reputed miracle worker, Pol-Chi, is he the new Emperor?

'So right, Kenhartdu. Duty means order, and order means peace.'

The Chamberlain bowed involuntarily.

'Thank you again, my Grand High Lord.'

Pol-Chi walked sedately passed him into the greater brightness of the pavilion.

Little Ki stood just inside the door and Van the Twenty-third, the nine hundred and forty-fifth Emperor of the Sun was seated on a high chair opposite the entrance and saying.

'...before all this was clear. Look, my pet, don't be so silly. Will you simply come over and let us get the prescribed preliminaries over and done with. I'm famished and... Ah, the Grand High Lord Pol-Chi. Welcome, fellow soldier. Pol-Chi, will you tell Little Ki to come out of that nook and give me just a kiss.'

'What is in you to do, Black Beauty?'

'I've done it already, Pol-Chi, Seeing him again. I've just realised that.'

'Good.' Pol-Chi took her elbow and drew her into the centre of the tent. 'Well, then, Little Ki, between preparation and execution there is always time for play. Let us play now.'

'You are so good, Pol-Chi. You have a way with her.' The Emperor laughed uproariously, approaching Little Ki with open arms. 'My dear, Little Ki, it has been so long. I'm so happy to see you.'

The kiss was planted chastely on her brow. Then holding her perfect shoulders, he looked her up and down.

'Despite this rather shapeless garment, my pet, I can see that you have maintained your perfection. You simply don't know how unique you are, my dear. Why, do you know I had to return your two sisters to their home. Revolting specimens. Different sires, of course, but you have to take chances like that. Now.' He looked around at the other guests and shouted, 'Let's eat!' He brought Little Ki over to sit him on the carpets and waved Pol-Chi, Uöos and Sora to sit. 'Do you know, I have never before travelled so much. The sea journey was tolerable. Luckily, there were no storms.' (Smiling at Pol-Chi.) 'But this land! Ugh! Dust, dust, dust. A boring flatness everywhere. Day after day, charging across the same flat yellow land. Tell me, Pol-Chi, do you really think this manoeuvre will be successful? After all, our lines are very extended.'

'The army carries all it needs, Emperor. Later, it can live off the land.'

'Perhaps. Perhaps. But I ask myself, Pol-Chi, where will I find a roof for my head? In some unimaginably exotic place in the East?'

'Why not, Emperor?'

'But, Pol-Chi, how long will that take? I mean, how far are we from civilization? As I reckon it, my Armies could hardly make it back to their homelands now. Not enough food.'

'That acts as an incentive, Emperor. We go home the long way.'

The Emperor laughed richly at this, squeezing Little Ki's hand and inviting her to share his humour.

'The long way home! Pol-Chi, I see you have wit. I'm very glad you have. I find that soldiers as a rule are morose creatures. Perhaps it's their trade. I mean, killing and fighting all the time.'

'Perhaps their moroseness compels them to fight, Emperor.'

'Ah! I hadn't thought of that. You mean, Pol-Chi, that it's a kind of prior condition? But I ask you, speculatively, of course, Pol-Chi, why should they be morose to begin with?'

'Perhaps they are constitutionally unhappy, Emperor.'

'There's that. But even so, Pol-Chi, what creates that constitution?'

'Why, Emperor, their fathers were soldiers.'

Pause. Then the Emperor laughed, looking from Pol-Chi to Little Ki. Then he said abruptly:

'Pol-Chi, must Little Ki wear this clumsy garment here? It reminds me of the priestly habit. What do you say, Uöos? You were once a high-priest. Is there a new religion here? Are you all ascetic and dedicated to a yellow goddess? What do you say, Pol-Chi? Must we have the ostentation of a new religion at an ancient Imperial court?'

Pol-Chi stood up and pulled his yellow tunic over his head. Then he sat down and reached for his wine cup.

Silence. Then the Emperor stood up and pulled his red tunic over his head. Then he sat down and reached for his wine cup.

Little Ki reached for her wine cup.

Uöos said:

'The Priesthood hold the opinion that it is not a religious movement, Imperial Majesty. They say that it is either a military affair, which seems the case, or a new Imperial order, which does not seem the case.'

The Emperor rubbed his chest and then lifted his gonads into a more comfortable position.

'Yes, and that allows the Priesthood to ride on the back of the yellow movement. Anyway, that's neither here nor there. Despite all their theorising about divine rights, the Priesthood has always been a parasitical order as religious order, though useful in other spheres. And what's wrong with a religion if it persuades its adherents to do what needs doing2 As far as I'm concerned, I don't care what your movement call itself so long as your members do their duty, to me.'

'What else could it do, Emperor?' Pol-Chi asked moderately. 'The Imperium is the only formal political power in the Empire.'

'Yes, that is so, Pol-Chi. But it is the formal political power, as you call it. That's not to say that rival centres of power could not be established.'

'But in your Armies, Emperor?'

'Why not, Pol-Chi? The danger for the Empire is that its Armies are composed largely of members of one race. That should never have been allowed to happen. Why shouldn't that one race not concentrate its power against the merely legal power of the Imperium?'

'But what's the point, Emperor? They would still have to do the soldiering. There is no other race numerous enough to do it.'

'A new race, Pol-Chi. Everyone in Ka-Ra was aware of that threat.'

'The white race? How long before there would be a sufficient number of them, Emperor?'

'Soon enough to make soldiering a temporary trade for the black race.'

Pol-Chi looked into his cup. Uöos now spoke.

'But it was also said in Ka-Ra, Imperial Majesty, that the white-skinned warriors could not be trusted. They cannot be disciplined sufficiently for the policing role of the Imperial Army.

The Emperor glanced at the nearest of the Brigan axemen, who stood guard around the walls of the tent.

'That's not discipline, Imperial Majesty. That is obsession. _Do you trust them_ , Imperial Majesty?'

'They obey my orders, High Priest.'

'As they did Hepteidon's, Imperial Majesty?'

'Hepteidon obeyed my Will, High Priest.'

Pol-Chi intervened. 'Hepteidon fell on his sword, Emperor.'

'So he did, Pol-Chi. What happened? Did he lose his nerve?'

'He sought his real master, Emperor.'

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of food. The Emperor cried 'fresh meat' and concentrated on eating. His guests followed suit.

When he had taken the edge of his hunger, the Emperor pointed over at Sora, who faced him, and asked,

'Tell me, little Sora, why do you alone wear black? Is the significance military? You know that black is the colour of the Imperial Armies.'

Sora looked at the Emperor for the first time. The Emperor saw there, to his surprise, a passion.

'Are all your women silent, Pol-Chi? I'm simply trying to be friendly. Isn't that right, Little Ki?' He took Little Ki's hand and squeezed it.

Pol-Chi chewed meat, then swallowed it.

'Sora is a goddess, Emperor. That is her colour.'

'Ha! I knew it was a religion, Pol-Chi, why do you institute priestesses? Are you a priestess also, Little Ki? If you are, then it's a pity, because for me you were my little Black Goddess. Why hasn't Pol-Chi made you his goddess, instead of the skinny one? Has he no blood?'

Sora stood up and pulled her gown over her head. She sat down and drank wine. When she looked at the Emperor, the remote allurement was in her eyes.

The Emperor drank wine, letting Little Ki's hand go.

'Emperor, I merely disclose the goddess. I merely allow the possibility of the truth.'

The Emperor gazed at the tips of Sora's breasts.

'Do you disclose your goddess to other men.'

'She discloses to whom she pleases, Emperor. Who can direct a goddess without danger?'

The Emperor stood up. His penis was erect. 'Will Sora disclose to me then, Pol-Chi?'

'Seek it.'

The Emperor went and stood over Sora, his penis jutting over her head.

'Goddess, will you disclose to a man in need?'

At the entrance, the Chamberlain coughed discreetly.

'Oh, shut up, Kenhartdu. It can't do any harm. Will you, Sora? Pol-Chi! Tell your woman to answer me.'

Uöos said quietly.

'She cannot be ordered, Imperial Majesty. That is her only privilege.'

The Emperor bent over Uöos.

' _Are you joking_ , priest? What other privilege is there?'

'There is the privilege of obedience, Imperial Majesty, which all slaves have.'

Bending further towards Uöos, the Emperor heard Pol-Chi say,

'Ask Hsin, Emperor. He was a privileged man.' The Emperor swung about. Hsin sat beside Pol-Chi, his arms and legs wrapped about him in complicated ways.

'I obey,' he said, eyes rising up and up.

' _He's dead!_ ' the Emperor screamed, pointing at the dead Hsin. 'Hepteidon assured me of that.'

'There is no death,' Hsin said sadly. 'And sooner or later...'

He vanished.

The Emperor stalked over to Pol-Chi, penis flaccid, in a towering rage.

' _What kind of magic is this?_ '

'It's not magic, Father. There is no death. Until the end, we can be called out at any time. Try it.'

Hepteidon sat in the Emperor's place, smiling at Sora.

The Emperor sat down abruptly in the middle of the ring of his guests.

'Hepteidon!' he screamed. 'I _know_ you are dead!'

'We're all dead, Father,' Hepteidon said, looking behind him.

The Dead gathered on that side of the tent, crowding into a space so vast that it seemed greater than the vault of the sky above. They pressed forward, millions upon countless hundreds of millions of men and women, arms upraised to the Emperor, chanting in every human language from every human Age:

' _We're not dead. We're not dead._ '

The Emperor swung on Pol-Chi, his eyes bulging.

'Stop it, for goodness sake, magician. I'm not responsible for them.'

Pol-Chi smiled blithely.

'But they are part of the Hu-An-Akar, Emperor. You are General-Commander of the Hu-An-Akar. '

The Emperor looked over his shoulder.

The Dead had upraised arms and beseeching faces. In the far, far distance he could see beseeching faces, though that should not be possible. There were as many faces as there were

grains of sand in the sea.

Pol-Chi asked above the rumble of voices:

'How is Kandrigi, Hepteidon?'

'It is sad, he keeps his face to the Dark.'

'Do many?'

Hepteidon looked behind him.

'As many as this again, Pol-Chi.'

'And to the Light?'

'As many again. Korkungal does.'

'Is he happy?'

'He's patient, as always.'

The Emperor beat the floor with his fists.

' _Pol-Chi! Get rid of them!_ '

'Do these hope, Hepteidon?'

'They look for a divinity, Pol-Chi.'

'Here?'

'They always look here.'

'Then let them look to themselves.'

Hepteidon suddenly flashed his Merura anger.

' _Do you think it's any easier here, Pol-Chi?'_

Pol-Chi looked at his feet and thought.

'Now that you mention it, why should it be?'

He raised his hands.

In the silence, the Emperor screamed.

' _Stop it before I go mad!_ '

Uöos asked,

'Was that an illusion, Pol-Chi?'

'Was it true, Uöos?"

Little Ki shook herself and stood up. She pulled her yellow gown over her head. Her perfect breasts appeared, dropping and trembling one after the other from under the up-pulled gown.

The Emperor asked Pol-Chi:

'What are you _doing_ here?'

'Preparing an invasion, Emperor.,'

'But what was all _that_ for?' He pointed behind him.

'They are part of the Hu-An-Akar, obviously.' Pol-Chi paused. 'Did you think even five millions were enough?'

The Emperor's eyes bulged again.

' _Invasion of what?_ '

'Why, the An-Akar, of course, Emperor.'

' _What have the dead got to do with that?_ '

Pol-Chi was reasonable.

'They wish to pass through the An-Akar, too. Do you think it'll be done for five millions only?'

' _But I don't lead the dead_ , Pol-Chi. I'm not mad!'

Uöos said from the left:

'Who says you lead the An-Akar?'

The Emperor leaped to his feet and charged over to Uöos.

' _I'll show you who leads_ , Priest.'

He swung to the nearest axeman and commanded magisterially:

'Kill this man!'

The axeman did not stir.

'Kill this man! I command you!'

The Emperor rushed up to the axeman, seeking to look over the rim of the red shield at the staring eyes.

' _Kill him, I tell you!_ ' he barked, pointing down at Uöos.

The axeman gave the Emperor a murderous glance, and raised his axe, brushing the Emperor off balance.

'Stay!'

The axeman froze, axe raised, body twisting to facilitate the downward stroke.

Pol-Chi appeared beside the Emperor. He said to the axeman

'Stay your axe, good Brigan. There will be time enough for that.'

The axeman stared at Pol-Chi.

'It will be soon, Brigan. I promise you that.'

The axeman resumed his guard position.

When he was out of range of the axe, the Emperor inclined his head to Pol-Chi and whispered shrilly:

' _He was about to kill me!_ '

Pol-Chi nodded as though to reassure the Emperor.

'What do you expect, Emperor?' He glanced at Little Ki. 'What do all your slaves wish for you?'

The Emperor followed Pol-Chi's glance and saw Little KI seated naked, one arm supporting her breasts, the other holding a wine cup to her lips.

'Her, too?'

'You remember.'

The Emperor stared at Little Ki's breasts. Then he nodded.

'And Hsin,' he murmured. 'Even Hsin.'

'Anyway,' Pol-Chi said confidentially. 'What would you do in the face of a lie?'

'Oh, don't be moralistic now, Pol-Chi,' the Emperor said, drawing away. 'Remember who's at the centre of the lie.' He went and sat by Little Ki again. Looking up, he said, 'Anyway, that's neither here nor there anymore. What are you going to do with me? You obviously have control here.'

Pol-Chi sat beside the Emperor.

'Why must I do anything with you?'

Little Ki interjected suddenly.

'He asked Hepteidon the same question.'

'Did he? What did Hepteidon say?'

'He joked about killing him.'

Pol-Chi shook his head.

'There's no point in killing him.'

'Why not?' the Emperor quickly asked.

'The An-Akar, Emperor.'

The Emperor threw up his eyes in exasperation.

'Oh, come on, Pol-Chi, be practical. Keep your magic for the soldiers. What I want to know is this, what do you intend doing with me? If you're going to kill me, then let's get it over with. If not, then let's finish this business and celebrate.'

'Celebrate what, Emperor?'

'Whatever is going to happen tomorrow.'

Pol-Chi nodded.

'That's practical. Very well, I'm not going to kill you, Emperor. There's no point. You're really the Emperor of Nothing now. You look surprised. Ask your Chamberlain. Kenhartdu! Ah. Is there an Empire?'

'No, my Grand High Lord.'

'Wait now, both of you. You forget one thing. I'm the Empire. So long as I'm alive, there is an Empire.'

Both Pol-Chi and the Chamberlain nodded at this. Pol-Chi glanced at the Chamberlain, read his expression, and then turned to the Emperor.

'Very well, I concede that legal point. But what about your Will, Emperor? Who obeys it?'

The Emperor was suddenly earnest. He dug his finger into Pol-Chi's arm.

'Now! That's a point, Pol-Chi. It seems that I'm no longer obeyed.'

Pol-Chi nodded, suffering the prodding finger.

'But can you accept that, Emperor? It's important that you do. If you're still tempted to throw your weight about, I'll have to put you under guard.'

The Emperor was still earnest.

'I'll try, Pol-Chi. But it'll take time to get used to it. I mean, for twenty years everyone has let me do as I wished.'

'Well, I suppose the important thing is for you to accept it when someone tells you to piss off. Don't throw tantrums, I mean.'

'I'll try. But I'm spoiled, greedy, and aggressive by nature. I tend to take what I want, Pol-Chi.'

Pol-Chi patted the Emperor's arm. 'No one can blame you for doing that.'

In the silence that followed, Pol-Chi motioned the Chamberlain to pour wine. When this was done, Pol-Chi raised his cup and said:

'To the An-Akar.'

They drank.

Then the Emperor hissed.

'Can't I have Sora?'

Pol-Chi signalled for more wine, then answered.

'You'll have to ask her, Emperor. I've already told you that.'

'Oh, all right,' The Emperor got to his feet. 'But you know, Pol-Chi, you really don't know how to use your influence.'

Pol-Chi laughed and drank.

'I'll tell you this, though, Emperor. Don't be tempted to take her, just because she's so slight. Hepteidon tried that and he lost his prick.'

The Emperor raised his brows.

'Her?' He looked over at Sora. 'Anyway, he could never handle women. Isn't that right, Little Ki? She nearly killed him the first time.'

The Emperor slapped his thigh with humour, and went off towards Sora.

Pol-Chi shifted over beside Little Ki.

'How goes the new way, Black Beauty?'

Little Ki shivered her shoulders, sending her bosom all atremble.

'Silence, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi tweaked her left nipple.

'And?'

Little Ki shivered again, this time with pleasure, glancing down at Pol-Chi's fingers tweaking her nipple.

'Silence, Pol-Chi? I tell you. Silence is the prerogative of those who have the power to give.'

'The Emperor is never silent.'

'Never, Pol-Chi.'

Sliding his hand into her cleavage, Pol-Chi observed:

'And Sora is still silent before the Emperor.'

She moved her arms slightly, so that her breasts imprisoned Pol-Chi's hand. He showed his pleasure.

'The Emperor is never silent,' he repeated. 'What does he want?'

Little Ki fell smoothly back with a sigh and allowed the pressure of Pol-Chi's thighs to open hers.

'He wants his goddess, too,' Little Ki replied and then grunted as Pol-Chi entered her forcefully. Panting, straining her head back, she stuttered. 'But...she's in...in his head.' She grunted again, loosening her whole body, as Pol-Chi drove into her again. 'She's al...always behind himmmmm.' She screamed her pleasure.

'It's alright for you pair,' the Emperor shouted from above. 'But why's that bitch so choosy about who sticks it up her, eh? There are millions of cows in this Empire who'd be only too willing to jump for their Emperor... Are you listening to me, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi wriggled his buttocks at him.

Then the Emperor screamed with rage.

' _She's letting that runty old priest fuck her!_ ' His voice receded. 'What sort of taste have these cows got anyway? Priests and soldiers before their Emperor.

' _What sort of set-up is this anyway?_ '

Pol-Chi rolled off Little Ki, feeling his moist flesh cooling, and said conversationally,

'Emperor, why don't you go fuck yourself?'

Little Ki tittered at first, then, helplessly, she began to laugh, shaking and trembling all over.

The Emperor ran over, fists balled with rage.

'That's not funny, Pol-Chi. You're all picking on me now because I'm powerless.'

'Did you ask her, Emperor?'

'I did. Look, Pol-Chi, I asked her politely. But the bitch wouldn't even look at me.'

'Well, she knows now. You'll have to wait until she decides to come to you.'

The Emperor hunkered down and shook Pol-Chi's arm.

'Look, Pol-Chi, I can't wait. It's over two months since I had a decent comfortable fuck.' He gestured with his fist in emphasis. 'You know what I mean. You're a soldier. It's no fun screwing the kind of scrubbers you get on the march. You never know who's been in there before you.'

Pol-Chi nodded with sympathetic resignation.

'Perhaps tomorrow or the next day, Emperor. Try to have patience.'

The Emperor looked over at Uöos and Sora. He clenched his free hand again and shook it before his face.

'But this one, Sora. I never knew her kind could have so much...you know.' He gestured with his fist again. 'It'll kill me to wait that long.'

'Then you'll have to beg her.'

The Emperor was incredulous in his surprise.

'But I've never begged,' he said, totally earnest. 'I can't do that.'

'Why not? She's not one of your subjects. The alternative is to pull yourself off.'

The Emperor plopped down on his bottom. He bowed his head. When he raised it again, Pol-Chi saw the same self-regard he had seen in Hepteidon.

Little Ki said at his shoulder. 'The Emperor encounters his own Majesty.'

Pol-Chi laughed, 'And?'

'Tell me, Pol-Chi,' the Emperor said seriously, 'I have the most awful feeling. _Will this world end tomorrow?_ '

Pol-Chi shrugged his shoulders.

'I don't know, Emperor. You'll have to ask Uöos about that. He knows more about the celestial movements.'

The Emperor nodded and climbed wearily to his feet.

Just then, as though a coincidence, they all heard a great wail from the plain outside. It grew in volume until it seemed as though the whole earth screamed in fear.

The Emperor looked around him, stunned out of his self-regard.

' _What's that now?_ '

The thunderous ululation rose and fell, gradually establishing a rhythm.

' _Who's dead_ , Pol-Chi?'

The rhythm was ragged, rippling back and forth, north and south, outside.

'Ilgem rises, Emperor.'

'But that's a death lament, Pol-Chi. Whose death do they lament?'

Pol-Chi turned away to Little Ki. Grief made her face very powerful.

'Their own death, Emperor. And ours.'

The Emperor looked at his flaccid penis. He cried out hoarsely and wrapped his arms about his own body. Then one long scream –

'NOOOOOOOOO..'

Some of the Brigan guards ran out of the tent. Pol-Chi put his arms around Little Ki and drew her close.

'...OOOOOOO...'

Little Ki snuggled in against Pol-Chi, glad he eased her fear.

'Poor Van,' she murmured. 'He does not like Sora's gift.'

Outside, the chant had become insistent, held by five million soldiers – 'BIN-IN, BIN-IN, BIN-IN' –

Greeted thus, Ilgem rose, lovely, yellow, up from behind the river mist. It seemed to fill the eastern sky.

Chapter Nineteen

There was sufficient light now.

Ilgem hung huge and bright yellow, high in the western sky. To the east the first rays of the sun began to lighten the golden mantle that lay across the earth.

'It is lovely, Uöos.'

Tense, Uöos nodded jerkily.

'No harm in seeing that, Pol-Chi.'

'Ha! It is necessary to see that. It contains a truth.'

Little Ki ducked out of the Imperial pavilion, rubbing her belly to ease the goose pimples.

'Sora says we should drink hot wine. Van agrees with her.'

Pol-Chi nodded abstractly, looking at the effect the chill morning air had on Little Ki's nipples. Uöos looked also and commented:

'That Ilgem brings no warmth is also a fact.'

Little Ki followed their eyes down, grinned, and wriggled her torso.

Uöos and Pol-Chi smiled appreciatively, both sensing the jest.

Then Little Ki looked down at them and remarked:

'And Ilgem has a lesson for the bulls.'

Tight-scrotumed, Uöos and Pol-Chi laughed heartily.

Sora came out, carrying a large steaming jar in both hands. Behind, the Emperor trailed, gold cups collected in his crossed arms.

When he had passed the cups around, the Emperor shook with one long shiver. His scrotum visibly shrank. But he nudged Pol-Chi.

'So this is the day?'

Pol-Chi laughed, his eyes narrowing.

'But for what, Emperor?'

'An invasion, of course, Pol-Chi.' He paused. 'Do you counsel otherwise, Grand High Lord?'

'The mist must clear first, Emperor.'

The Emperor looked over at the yellow wall of fog,

'Today?'

'If all goes well, Emperor. But the climate differs here in the North.'

Uöos chuckled.

Sora poured the hot wine. They drank and she poured again.

'Do you have drummers handy, Emperor?'

'What? What for? Oh, I think so. KENHARTDU!'

The Chamberlain looked gaunt. Sora gave him her cup of wine.

'Drummers, Kenhartdu? Where are they?'

The Chamberlain tossed back the wine, then braced himself. He shuddered.

'Drummers, Your Imperial Majesty?'

'Yes, drummers! Get a move on, Kenhartdu! I want drummers here, NOW!'

The Chamberlain ran.

'Obviously I have drummers handy, Pol-Chi.'

'Now, let us sit over there.' Pol-Chi pointed towards the northern end of the hill-top. 'We'll need skins, no doubt.

Uöos and Little Ki went into the Imperial pavilion. Suddenly the Emperor asked.

'Where are those barbarian guards?'

Pol-Chi followed the Emperor's gaze.

'Perhaps you dismissed them, Emperor.'

'I did no such thing, Pol-Chi.'

'Anyway, don't worry about them, Emperor. You're safe enough here.'

'It's not that, Pol-Chi. It's the principle. Imperial guards can't wander off like that.'

'They say they're difficult to discipline.'

'Perhaps you're right. Pol-Chi, I should've stuck with our own lads. But Hepteidon seemed to have a good grip on them.'

'He had a taste for berserkers, Emperor.'

Nodding sanguinely, the Emperor looked to the west.

The front ranks of the Hu-An-Akar lined the rim of the plain above, stretching out on either side into the misty golden distance. The Army was strangely silent, waiting.

'The An-Akar,' the Emperor muttered. 'Do you know, Pol-Chi, I'll give you this, you really know how to set up an invasion.' He indicated. 'Those men are ready to conquer the world.'

Pol-Chi smiled, seemingly depreciative.

'I'm a soldier, too, Emperor.'

'And so you are.'

The skins finally laid in a level, grassy place, Pol-Chi sat facing the north. He called Sora to sit on his right and Little Ki to sit on his left. Uöos was directed to sit beside Little Ki, the Emperor to sit beside Sora, which pleased him.

Pol-Chi turned his head and shouted.

'Griron!'

Immediately the flap of the nearest pavilion moved and Griron appeared, toddling on his little fat legs. He moved carefully but steadily over the uneven ground, the grass brushing his chest and face at times.

When he was close enough, Pol-Chi pointed to the gap between the Emperor and Uöos. Obediently, Griron swerved and made for that point.

'Whose child is that?'

'Sora's, Majesty.'

'I wouldn't have believed it, my dear. Why, you look only... And you are the father, Uöos?'

'That's not certain, majesty.'

'And yet she's fussy about me,' the Emperor muttered loudly.

When Griron had plopped down into place, Pol-Chi said,

'The drummers, Emperor?'

'KENHARTDU!'

Four drummers came running up over the brow of the hill, eyes starting, mouths gaping. They ran up and waited, panting furiously, clutching drums and sticks in spasming hands and arms.

'Where do you want them, Pol-Chi?'

'Over there,' Pol-Chi replied, pointing behind Little Ki.

'Right, drummers, get over there. _Hurry!'_

The drummers hurried. When they had settled themselves, Pol-Chi leaned around Little Ki. and said to them:

'This beat – _bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum. Yes, that's it. _Bump_ -bum...Good... When I signal like this... No. In a moment...when I _do_ signal, beat out that tattoo only thirty times. Understand? Thirty times? Good. _Then stop_! Right. Ready yourselves.'

Pol-Chi turned back to his circle.

'Now, when the drumming starts, we will hold hands. I warn you now, once we have clasped hands, there's no letting go. Then we'll take it from there... You'll see.'

Pol-Chi shivered. The Emperor tried to take Sora's hand immediately, but she pulled away.

'Be patient, majesty,' Uöos said, weary with tension.

Then Pol-Chi signalled the drummers.

_Bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum.

Drums up on the ridge took up the beat -

_Bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum, _bump_ -bum.

The sound grew as drums further away on either side picked it up. In a very short time, all the drums of the Hu-An-Akar were pounding in unison -

BUMP-BUM, BUMP-BUM, BUMP-BUM...

Pol-Chi took the hands of Little Ki and Sora. Uöos and the Emperor reached for adjacent hands.

A powerful ripple went round the group, going from Pol-Chi to Sora to the Emperor to Griron to Uöos to Little Ki. It earthed itself in Little Ki and she threw her head up, her nipples stood out – then she gave a long scream of

pleasure.

The drum beat was powerful, reverberating through the ground, echoing in the river mist.

BUMP-BUM, BUMP-BUM, BUMP-BUM...

Another powerful ripple began, this time with the Emperor, and ran through Griron to Uöos to Little Ki to Pol-Chi to Sora. It earthed in Sora and she screamed, her breasts pointing, her thighs quivering.

Almost immediately another ripple began, now from Little Ki, running through Uöos to Griron to the Emperor to the shuddering Sora to Pol-Chi. It earthed here and Pol-Chi's lips curled back, eyes closed, his stomach muscles spasming, scrotum jumping in the fur of the skin under him.

Another ripple. From little Griron it ran through Uöos, Little Ki, Pol-Chi, Sora, to the Emperor, who screamed and swore, dancing from buttock to buttock as though the ground was hot. The next ripple was faster, another one followed immediately, then another. Little Ki squealed, then Griron cried out, then Sora, then

all six were shaking and jerking, tremoring and grunting, squealing, shouting and screaming.

Now it seemed as though just one ripple shot from person to person, going round and round the circle –

TOTAL SILENCE

– the rippling ceased instantly.

Pol-Chi intoned in the silence:

'Kinsmen, I greet you at the End. Before you is the An-Akar, the yellow mist of death. Behind you, your past is _dead_ , as _nothing_. Around you, your world is _dead_ , as _no thing_.

'Kinsmen, _you must pass through the An-Akar in order to get beyond this nothing._

'Here in the entrance to the An-Akar _there is no hope_.

'Here in the Last Days _there is nothing to be done_.

'Here in the face of death _there is nothing to be desired_.

'Here in the yellow mist _there is nothing to be thought_.

'Kinsmen, at the End YOU ARE NOTHING!

'There is _no-thing_ anymore, _for this is the End_.

'Say it, Kinsmen: I AM NOTHING.

' _Again_! I-AM NO-THING

' _Again_! I-AM NO-THING

'Now, Kinsmen, in your nothingness –

SEE THE MIRACLE

SEE ALL THERE IS TO BE SEEN

SEE THE TRUTH OF MAN.'

In the intense stillness, a voice in the distance screamed,

' _Noooooooooooo_...'

Then a long wail _from somewhere else_.

The Emperor tried to break Griron's clasp of his hand –

he couldn't.

He began,

'Pol...'

And his voice froze.

Then –

Twenty-five thousand front rank soldiers gasped –

And –

' _What are you doing here?_ '

'Being present, of course.'

'Indeed. Is that what you call it? It's a pretty gross presence. Where are you from?'

'Earth?'

'Where's that? Oh, wait. Materiality. Puts you about two hundred fiftyish. How did you manage it?'

'The An-Akar?'

'What's that? Hold on, I must refine translation. Ah. Death. Materiality is very gross. Got it. Precisely. Two hundred and fifty six. That's a crucial one. You did well. It takes most of you about, eh, well, twelve erks, to get through that particular hoop. Tell me, though, what power did you use?'

'Power? Where am I?'

'Power. Let's get that straightened out first. You didn't do it on your own. You'd have to be at three fifty at least.'

'Do you mean the Hu-an-Akar?'

'Oh, I see now. _Very ingenious_. I think that's original. How many?'

'About five million.'

'No, it can't be that only. Not powerful enough. You'd need twice that.'

'Perhaps that. I had my suspicions.'

'Yes, ten million would do it. The end of an Age?'

'Yes.'

'You show great skill for a two fifty six, do you know that? But well done, anyway. Though... Perhaps we can leave that for the moment. Tell me... oh, what is your name?'

'Trinkanbrikar.'

'So you _have_ done it. Congratulations. No one I know has ever managed such a leap. I look forward to experiencing your next move.'

'Where am I?'

'In a moment, Trinkanbrikar. Oh, alright, though it'll take you about an erk to adjust. By the scale we use, you're now in the five hundred and twenty ninth Aeon.'

'Oh, it's an arbitrary system. If the truth is to be told, no one knows much about the Aeons. Should I explain? Perhaps I should. Well, let me put it like this. At this level, we reckon there are about, roughly, ten thousand Aeons. Think of them as levels of, em, experience, rising from the grossest premateriality to what our philosophers call pure being, though they can't describe that state. For my part, a lot of that speculation is hocus-pocus. I'm really a...what you might call a scientist, though I suspect there's no comparison.'

'What's you name?'

'Piltorripalor.'

'What do you look like, Piltorripalor?'

'Much as you do, Trinkanbrikar. Appearance in general doesn't change much. There are, eh, new developments, and you'll lose unnecessary elements and aspects. But you'll remain recognisable.'

'But I can't see you.'

'Of course not, Trinkanbrikar. Those material senses are too gross at this level. But give it time. It'll only take, as I say, one erk for your latent senses to develop. Then – you'll be aware of me.

'And that's why it's dark?'

'Yes. That's it. The Aeons above always appear as darkness. Even for me. That's why I think all this theorising is such nonsense. You can't know until you experience... But even then, I'm not sure.'

'Am I among the stars, Piltorripalor? I know two people from the stars.'

'What stars? Oh, I remember now. How long ago that was.'

'Have you been on earth?'

'You mean your Aeon? Of course. That's one thing we're all agreed on, Trinkanbrikar. Everyone must pass up through the Aeons. Yes. I was at two five six. Actually, I was stuck there for about five erks. Horrendous experience...'

'What is an erk, Piltorripalor?'

'An erk? It's an arbitrary measurement of...eh, being present, as you call it. About fifty million years at your old level, though, of course, it's not the same kind of experience. I mean, there are other measures, which are more meaningful here, that have larger units, ranging from about one hundred million years to over two thousand five hundred millions of years. But, as I say, it's all pretty arbitrary. Actually, Trinkanbrikar, my advice to you is to avoid all this speculation, though I suspect, on what I know of you already, that you will. The danger, as in all Aeons, is to fall into the trap of believing in illusions.'

'Ah. that I do understand, Piltorripalor.'

'Good. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. If it hadn't been for my friend, Sin Canor, who, by the way, discovered in our Age at two fifty six how to get into the other universes, I think I would still be trapped at two fifty seven, after what we then called death. Do they still have that concept at two fifty six, Trinkanbrikar?'

'Yes. It's hard to make them believe otherwise.'

'I appreciate that. I suppose it's an essential part of that Aeon. I mean, the awakening, as such, which begins there is pretty frightening. You can't blame them, I suppose, for trying to stop it. Anyway, they learn very quickly that death is an illusion.'

'I agree, Piltorripalor. When I called them up, all they did was complain that they weren't dead, I tried to tell them what to do, but I don't know whether they will try or not. They seem to want someone else to do it for them.'

'As a matter of curiosity, what did you tell them?'

'I told them to look to themselves.'

'Yes, you obviously know the answer. It's surprisingly easy once you know about it. I mean, that was my view once I finally understood what Sin Canor had told me all those erks previously. But Sin was like you, Trinkanbrikar. He really worked at it. Once he found his way into the other universes, he gathered all the, eh, power he could and away with him.'

'Where is he now, Piltorripalor?'

'Goodness knows. He came to see me once, when I was at four four four. It's not often, you know, that anyone bothers to descend the Aeons. Anyway he obviously did it out of friendship. Couldn't stay long. Then he was at Aeon six thousand seven hundred and something, though he said they use a different scale there. One thing he told me though, and I'll pass it on to you, because you are like him, was this: he said to watch for the spiral. He said if I could grasp that, even though it will become an illusion, I could rise fairly rapidly to at least the three thousandth Aeon. So, there you are, Trinkanbrikar, my friend, look out for the spiral.'

'Thank you, Piltorripalor. I'll value your friendship.'

'Good. Then I can help you get used to this place. I know it'll seem difficult conceptually at first. After all, you had only twenty-two dimensions to deal with. Here there are one thousand and forty eight. Look, I'll tell you what to do to start with. Tune to the, oh, power you used to get here. Do it. It's relatively easy.'

'Ah, yes. I feel it.'

'Good. Now gather it. Slowly. That's it. It'll recompose your, well, your form. Got it?'

'Yes. Yes. I see, or sense, or something, a kind of glow...Ah... Oh, _how beautiful_ , Piltorripalor.'

' _Of course_ , I forgot that. Yes, it will appear a bit overwhelming at first. But you'll get used to it. Mind you, there are some beautiful, eh, experiences here... Now, turn, as it were. That's right. Focus your, eh, power form. That's it. Now, can you see me?'

'Why, yes. I see what you mean about similarity of form, though, of course, it is at the same time very different. Do you know, and I suppose it's only a coincidence, but you do remind me of someone.'

'Do I? Well, that's nice. You won't feel so lonely while you're accustoming yourself to this Aeon. But tell me, to satisfy my curiosity, who do I look like?'

'Ah, he was a scientist, too, Piltorripalor. Same red, eh, well, redness-kind, skin, eh, emanation.'

'Is he in the illusion of death?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'No matter, Trinkanbrikar. If you've told him what to do, he'll get out pretty soon.'

'But tell me, Piltorripalor, if you can, that is, what of the others?'

'Others? Oh, you mean the two five sevens? Well, I think you've done what you can for them. I know Sin showed the way to about, oh, seventy-six billion two five sevens. Perhaps you'll do the same.'

'And what about the five ten millions I used for power?'

'Ah, that's more difficult. Most of them will believe in death, Trinkanbrikar. They have to do their stint in two five seven. But if it is any help to you, a lot of them will have some clue about what to do. I presume you told them what they should do.'

'Yes, I did. Made sure every soldier could hear it.'

'You're very considerate, Trinkanbrikar. I know some who've got on by exploiting billions and not a backward look. But there you are, Trin, that's the way it goes.'

'Do you think I could return for a while, Piltorripalor?'

'Call me, Pilto, Trin, These names are really too long. It's the language in our present Age. Polysyllabic. Everything is a mouthful. Yes, you can, of course, if you want to. It's unusual, as I've said. Now, you should be able to move along the Aeons with a fair amount of ease, now that you've done it once.'

'Good. But tell me one thing before I go, Pilto. Can you discern. any purpose in the whole thing? Wait, I'll tell you why. Back on two fifty-six, as you call it, I learned by degrees that there had been many Ages on earth, over millions of years, so that countless millions of men had existed. Now I'm learning that there are many Aeons. As I grow in experience, I seem to be confronted by larger and larger numbers, so to speak. I'm beginning to suspect, Pilto, that we're involved with multiple infinities. Now, can you, on this level, discern any purpose?'

'A good question. I suppose that question lies behind all human thought. Well, let me start this way. How many Ages do you think there have been on earth?'

'I was told about one thousand and seven hundred.'

'I thought so. Well, I'll tell you. Multiply the number of years you think have passed since the beginning by the number of men you think have existed in that time, and you know some kind of fraction of all the human Ages of two five six to date. But look at it another way, Trin, think about number itself as simple quantity. Now, any number you can list, I can add one to it. So the series is infinite. Now, I ask you, if the number series is infinite, why shouldn't, eh, creation be infinite also?'

'But, Pilto, what about the number one? The series starts there. So there must have been a beginning.'

'A common assumption, Trin. But see it this way. We apply the number one in an arbitrary manner, simply for the sake of enumeration. Again there is the minus series, which extends the axis back through nought.'

'Minus series?'

'Oh, you haven't got that in your Age? Anyway, the argument doesn't depend on that. Let me put it another way. You say your Age, the one you've just left, is about number one thousand seven hundred and something. So you have some idea of a first Age, and you can calculate some date for it, even if it is a pretty big number...'

'About six hundred million years.'

'Yes, that's it. Well, from another perspective, your Age is about the twelve millionth, so that your Age number one is only the eleventh million and such and such Age. Can you see that?'

'Yes. It seems to me that nought is where you are, and the numbers extend from that point, in all dimensions, to infinity.'

'Ah, that's a good way to look at it. But how could you measure when you're in motion too? You just remain nought. And it gets more complicated when you take account of number as quality.'

'As quality?'

'Oh, yes. There's a fairly elaborate knowledge of that here, but it's hard to grasp it whole, I mean, it's an immensely complicated, eh, system. I personally think that getting beyond words and language is relatively easy, usually achieved at around three sixty or so. But getting beyond number as quality, which I suspect is the next major hurdle after getting beyond number as quantity, may require a huge number, I don't mean to pun, of Aeons. Goodness knows what's beyond that.'

'And purpose, Pilto?'

'None that I can see, Trin. Just keep moving.'

'Motion is free, then?'

'"Motion is free" – that's a good concept, Trin. Yes, I like that. You think motion lies at the bottom of it all?'

'I don't know. I suspect it doesn't. It's too simple an answer. Perhaps there are no answers, Pilto, only questions.'

'Oh, that's _nice_ , Trin. "No answers, only questions." You're a good philosopher. I look forward to hearing more when you get back.'

'I was a poet once, Pilto...Will I arrive back at this point?'

'It doesn't matter. I'll spread my, ah, form. I'll know the instant you return and come to you. Anyway, you won't be long gone. Temporality differs, you know.'

'Good. But one last thing for now, Pilto. This business of successive Ages and Aeons, are they in series?'

'Good question, Trin. Numeration would make them appear so, but that might be an illusion only. They might be simultaneous, or organised under qualities, though I suspect the growing preoccupation with number as quality underlies that hypothesis. Anyway, there was a woman I knew once, on five nought three, who said that the best concept was that "anywhere could be everywhere, and anyone could be everyone". She agreed that it was pretty meaningless, but she said it had the virtue of keeping the, eh, mind open. So there. I'll let you go for now. Trin. Do hurry back. I look forward to your company. Stimulating.'

'I won't be long, friend Pilto.'

' _Pol-Chi!_ ' Little Ki took a gulping breath. 'You _disappeared_!'

'Did I?'

Uöos said quietly.

So did Griron.

'You returned, Griron?'

'You did, Pol-Chi.'

'Yes. But why did you?'

Griron shrugged his pudgy little shoulders.

'Perhaps I can help.'

'Where were you?'

'The Kalo of Symerk. You?'

'They enumerate them there. Aeon five hundred and twenty-nine.'

Griron nodded.

'Why have you returned? You seemed to have advanced far.'

The Emperor found his tongue loosened.

' _How can this child talk?_ '

'I don't know, Griron. To say farewell, perhaps.'

Uöos said:

' _Where were you, Pol-Chi?_ '

'In another Aeon, Uöos.'

'Aeon?'

'Yes, about twice as far as this from... Well, fairly advanced.'

'But what's an Aeon?'

'I don't know. Like an Age, I suppose, but on another level or plane.'

'Should I grow up now, Pol-Chi? I'm not sure. I seem to upset the Emperor.'

'Do you want to, Griron?'

'I KNEW IT WOULDN'T WORK, UÖOS,' Sora screamed with rage.

'No. I'd rather let it take its own course, Pol-Chi.'

' _You're all mad! How can this brat speak like that? It's only about a year old._ '

'Are you going to leave us soon, Pol-Chi?' Little Ki began to cry gently.

The soldiers gasped again, louder because more soldiers could see.

' _Oh, shut up, majesty. You can be such a pain in the arse at times._ '

'That's wise, Griron. Don't cry, Little Ki. I'll try to explain later.'

' _Don't you tell me to shut up, you runty little bastard!_ '

'We should have pulled out months ago, Tarko, when I suggested it...'

'Tarko? _Who the fuck is Tarko_? I thought he was called Uöos. _And just who are you, little bitch?_ '

The Emperor stood up and screamed:

'SPIES!' –

'I can't help my feeling, Pol-Chi. But I've grown so attached to you, Black Bull.'

A third gasp –

_came from the other side of the river_.

It was the Emperor, standing up, who said:

' _Oh. no_!

The mist had cleared. The river was wide, with a gently inclining slope leading up to the plain on the far side.

As far as the eye could see in the misty yellow dawn, there were yellow-clad soldiers pressing down that slope to the river, all chanting in their own language to the beat, _BUMP_ -BUM, _BUMP_ -BUM, _BUMP_ -BUM.

Below them, the Emperor, Griron and Pol-Chi saw their own Hu-An-Akar press forward down the slope to the river, all chanting, _I_ -AM _NO_ -THING, _I_ -AM _NO_ -THING, _I_ -AM _NO_ -THING...

The Emperor gave Pol-Chi a venomous glance.

' _Some invasion, eh?_ '

Pol-Chi was reasonable.

'What did you expect? They either heard about our preparations, or else they followed the same law as we did.'

'What fucking law are you talking about?'

'A cosmic law, I suppose. I don't know. Who do you think I am anyway? God?'

The Emperor laughed with forced sarcasm.

' _A fucking madman, that's what!_ '

But the Emperor suddenly looked busy.

'Anyway, we'll have to make the most of it. First thing though, Pol-Chi, as Emperor of the Sun I dismiss you from all ranks and privileges you possess as a member of my Army. Right? Get it, black? You're no longer in the Army. So don't try to stop me or I'll cut you down.' He glanced down at Uöos and Sora and said musingly above the, growing uproar below: 'I should have known there was something dickey about them.'

Then he ran off down the hill towards the front of his Army, gesticulating wildly, calling for his Army Lords.

Griron and Pol-Chi watched him. 'They'll fight now, I suppose.'

'I suppose they will, Griron. What else can they do now?'

'Well,' Griron said meditatively, looking up at the sky. 'I could divert Ilgem.'

'Is there any point? The disappointment would be enough to drive everyone mad.'

Griron nodded earnestly.

'That's a thing alright. Let them fight then. It won't make much difference in the end.'

'No. I don't think so. Anyway, Griron, how many do you think were translated?'

'It's hard to judge. Perhaps a thousand at most.'

'Out of five million? Hardly seems worth it, does it?'

'They had their chance, Pol-Chi. What more could you do?'

'Better preparations, Griron. Perhaps I should have organised it as a religion.'

'Goodness no, Pol-Chi. Better this way. The fear was kept real.'

'Perhaps. Anyway, I was told that many of them probably got the idea, though it will take erks for it to sink in.'

'Erks?'

'The unit of time of five two nine. It's fairly long by comparison with here. Oh, this is Aeon two five six, by the way.'

Griron nodded, intent on the movement below.

'This is the Kalo of Glung according to Symerk.'

Griron turned away, looking over at the remainder of the circle of friends.

'What will you do?' Pol-Ch asked.

'Oh, go with Sora and Uöos, as they have planned. They're taking me to their place, a planet or something. When this is over, they intend bringing me back as some kind of Dawn of Age Sage. You know, the kind of person the legends are told about.'

Pol-Chi accompanied him back to the circle.

'I thought it would be something like that. I suppose it'll serve some purpose.'

'Well, I'll use it to get the next Age onto the right idea from the start. You know, I've learned a lot from you, Pol-Chi. You're quite brilliant.'

'No doubt they'll think the same of you in the next Age.'

Griron turned away, saying dispassionately, 'No doubt.'

Pol-Chi went over to Little Ki and bent to take her hand.

Sora said,

'Why did you push things so far, Pol-Chi? It's gone completely out of hand.' She pointed off the hill. 'Look, they're going to start butchering each other. _Ten million men_.'

'Do you think they would ever have done otherwise, Sora? By the way, what's your real name. I know Uöos' is Tarko. What's yours?'

Sora raised her tear-stained face.

'I don't suppose it matters now. It's Kalistera.'

She began to cry helplessly, looking pitiable.

'Oh, Pol-Chi, _it's such a mess_! Where did we go wrong?'

Uöos-Tarko hurried over and put his arms around her, helping her up. She blubbered:

'I tried my best, Tarko. Honestly. Look at the things I did to help. I even had a child here, _under these conditions._ '

'There now, Sora, eh, Kalistera,' Uöos said consolingly. 'I know you did everything you could. And Pol-Chi knows that too. Don't you, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi and Little Ki went over to them.

'Look, Sora-Kalistera, without you, this would not have worked. Now believe me.'

Griron said at knee level:

'Why don't you let her rest, _father_? It's all been a great shock to _mother_.'

The words transfixed Uöos-Tarko and Sora-Kalistera. Together, they bent to him, and Uöos-Tarko helped Sora-Kalistera pick him up.

Murmuring endearments to one another, the three went off to their pavilion.

Pol-Chi and Little Ki paused to watch the first soldiers enter the river, brandishing axes and spears.

They were entering the water of the other side too. Ten million soldiers were chanting to the beat, _BUMP_ -BUM, _BUMP_ -BUM, _BUMP_ -BUM...

Then Pol-Chi noticed something. To Little Ki, he said,

'The river water is _green..._ '

Little Ki laughed, shivering her beautiful body.

'Of course it is, Pol-Chi. Didn't you say they'd enter the Ek-Min, the Green Field, the Space of Peace?'

Pol-Chi nodded, then said, 'And the Green Stone? The Ser-Gal?'

Both looked north.

As they walked slowly to their pavilion, the first streak of lightning crossed the sky, a huge bolt that seemed to split the vault of the heavens open.

Over the tremendous crash of thunder, Pol-Chi said, 'The Last Days for certain.'

'At last,' Little Ki replied, looking satisfied. 'We've all waited long enough.'

Later, after Pol-Chi had given Little Ki what she needed to cheer her up, he asked her:

'Did you experience anything?'

Little Ki shook her ample breasts with amusement.

'Yes, Pol-Chi, I'm to be the goddess of the next Age.'

Pol-Chi stilled her rolling breasts.

'Appropriate.'

Chapter Twenty

When the last pavilion blew away, Pol-Chi, Little Ki, Uöos-Tarko, Sora-Kalistera, and Griron found themselves exposed to the eschatological elements.

'We'd better find shelter if we're going to hang around here,' Uöos said, shivering already.

A stark, branching fork of lightning pierced the cloud, seeking earth in the west. Immediately, thunder crashed and rolled and reverberated all around them.

The powerful winds were unrelenting, the torrential rain unceasing.

Pol-Chi rubbed his soaking hair and looked at his hand.

'We could take these skins into the lee of the hill.'

Sora stood up and a gust blew her over, sending her staggering through the wet grass.

The others concentrated on gathering up the skins, bent and tensed against the wind and rain.

More lightning, splitting the air above them. The thunder was deafening, churning their stomachs.

Griron attached himself to Little Ki, who best withstood the storm.

Pol-Chi led the way, rolled skins against his chest, out of the rain. Sora groped for his arm, her hair plastered to her face.

The south-facing slope of the hill did offer shelter, from the wind though not from the rain.

When they were all huddled together under an embankment, skins wrapped about them. Uöos asked:

'Why are we hanging around here?'

They looked at one another. Little Ki answered.

'Perhaps we are reluctant to leave earth.'

'I don't know why,' Sora said bitterly. 'It's a pretty lousy place anyway.'

'I don't know,' Uöos said philosophically. 'There were some good times. What do you say, Pol-Chi?'

Pol-Chi removed his attention from the fighting and drowning below.

'Yes. This reminds me of the other storm. That was a good experience. We were very close then.'

Uöos lowered his head, remembering.

Unmollified, Sora said scathingly:

'It was alright for you, Commander of the Expedition. But I had to accommodate four of you.'

The combined stares of Uöos and Pol-Chi stopped her. She nodded resignedly.

'I know you two were considerate. But that aristocrat looney, Hepteidon, I thought he would ruin me. I could never get moist with him. He'd just pump away with that ferociously earnest look on his face.'

'And what about Korkungal?' Uöos asked, disgust rising in his voice.

Surprisingly, Sora softened.

'Ah, Korkungal. He was the best, you know.' She started to cry, softly and easily. 'He was so gentle. Like a child. A big child.'

'He softened your heart, Sora?' Pol-Chi prompted with intensity.

Sora nodded, sniffing loudly.

'But he was like a bull when he got down to it,' Uöos suggested without malice.

Sora stopped crying and stared before her.

'Wasn't he, though?' she murmured, remembering.

She started crying again, more loudly than before.

'But I couldn't show my feelings for him. I had to play that awful role as Sora the Silent.' She edged towards hysteria. 'Why did that madman have to kill him, Tarko? Korkungal could've come with us. I know he would if I had asked him.'

Uöos shuffled and shifted until he was beside her. He put his arms around her and brought her head down to his chest.

Her wailing was the equal of the wind and the bustle of battle below.

Pol-Chi watched about a thousand Imperial axemen, in line, clamber up the bodies of their butchered and drowned kinsmen, slipping, tripping, dropping weapons and groping in the blinding wind and rain to retrieve them, following a long line of spearmen out over the piled high corpses to engage approaching lines of soldiers of the Empire of the Dawn.

Enough men, from both sides, had fallen to dam up the river, though rivulets and streams were finding their way along the floor of the river valley.

There was mud, blood, and yellow cloth and armour everywhere.

'How many so far, do you think, Pol-Chi?' Little Ki asked compassionately.

'I don't know. About a million, I reckon.'

'In three days? How long can it go one?'

'Well, a huge number was drowned in the first days. It was only early this morning that they actually started fighting.'

'But how long can it go on?'

'Well, the numbers dying each day will drop, now that less are drowning. And they'll drop further as they tire. About three or four months.'

' _Won't they stop?_ '

'Why should they, Little Ki? They've nothing else to do and nowhere else to go.'

From below came the same old chant:

_I_ -AM _NO_ -THING, _I_ -AM _NO_ -THING, _I_ -AM _NO_ -THING....

The other army chanted the same thing, in their own language.

A troop of heavily armed cavalry tried to get their horses up onto the dam of corpses, but they refused. Chanting loudly and hoarsely, they dismounted together, formed a line, and waded up onto the bodies of their slain and drowned kinsmen.

Uöos spoke with a note of criticism in his voice:

'There could have been another way of doing this, Pol-Chi.'

'Such as?' Pol-Chi asked mildly.

'Come on, Pol-Chi. It could have been less, less bloody and chaotic.'

'Don't you understand, Uöos? They're soldiers. If they had stayed in the homelands, they would be running amok now. It's their only way of handling this sort of situation.' Pol-Chi glanced down into the valley. 'Anyway, look, have you ever seen a battle fought in better order or with such dedication? I haven't.'

'That's bloody callous of you, Pol-Chi,' Uöos said bitterly. He pointed down in a rhetorical gesture. 'They're men. Human beings.'

Pol-Chi was reasonable.

'Callous perhaps. But true. Anyway, Uöos, what did you plan?'

Uöos looked at Sora, who looked away, red-eyed and wet.

'Well, we hoped that...well, dignity, anyway. I mean, there was little we could actually do. We...I hoped that they could face the inevitable with dignity.'

Pol-Chi leaned forward.

'It might've been better if you hadn't interfered. The two of you really created panic with your prophecies and manipu1ations.' He pointed at Sora. 'She bitches about poor Hepteidon.' He addressed Sora herself. 'Has it ever dawned on you that it was your manipulation of him at the beginning that damaged him?'

Sora chewed her knuckles. 'We didn't think he would torture the old man to death.'

Uöos butted in.

'It was that High Priest who messed things up. He was too clever by half. He enjoyed his own game of baiting immensely.'

'Nevertheless, it was you two who set up the whole thing. If you hadn't interfered – and I accept that you meant well – we would have gone about it in our own way.'

Now Uöos leaned forward.

'And would it have been any different from this mess? I mean, we did invent the rumours about the Beast and the Chosen. The least we did there was to ensure that there was a Chosen.' He gestured to Griron.

The ground quaked, worse this time than ever before.

Little Ki braced herself, the soaking robe clinging to her body allowing every little tremble and roll to be clearly seen.

'Uöos,' she asked with forced calm. 'How soon now?'

'I'm not sure, Little Ki. I haven't seen Ilgem since yesterday morning. But I think it'll pass at about quarter the moon's orbital radius. Perhaps today or tomorrow. That'll be the worst point.'

'Will it get worse than this?'

'Oh yes, much worse.'

Griron peeked around his mother.

'You have a great sympathy for the earth, Little Ki, haven't you?'

'Yes, Griron. I feel it all inside me, here.' She pointed to her left quaking breast.

Griron nodded seriously.

'That's good. I think that's important, Little Ki.'

Multiple bolts of lightning streaked down. One hit a body of soldiers up on the valley side. The thunder was sickeningly loud.

Uöos coughed above the uproar.

'Look, we're going to have to go soon. We can't whisk off to other dimensions at the last moment.'

Pol-Chi looked up.

'That reminds me, Uöos. What did you experience in the circle?'

'Me?' Uöos shrugged dismissively. 'I thought those shocks we had would kill me. But there was nothing spectacular as you and Griron, and Little Ki seem to have had.'

'Nothing at all, Uöos?' Pol-Chi insisted. 'But you seemed the best prepared of us all.'

Uöos shook his head sadly and his voice betrayed regret.

'You said it yourself, Pol-Chi. Without belief or openness, nothing happens. My race is too old for belief. At least, until recently I thought we were old.' He let the regret run in him. 'Look, Pol-Chi, I think, for my part anyway, I don't know about Sora, that I made a mistake at that event. You see, I thought my race...I knew everything. Our civilization is three million years old, and we do boast to the other systems that we are the oldest human civilization. But here I've learned that the human race is vastly older than I thought. And if you are right, the whole thing is infinitely older than even the archivists of Mu-Ra thought.

'But the other day I simply refused to let anything happen to me. I admit that I used to think, again until recently, that living three and a half thousand years was a good thing in itself. Now I'm tempted to consider it as meaningless. Even so, Pol-Chi, I have decided, and this is why I withstood all the temptations the other day, to live out my natural life rather than seek transcendence or translation, or whatever it is. I intend, when this catastrophe is over, to return to earth and help the new Age. I will work with the archivists to open their records to the next Age as soon as possible. Another thing, Pol-Chi, I suspect there are other, more ancient, archives, hidden in the earth. I'll try to find them and have them studied...'

'But why, Uöos? All that knowledge will add nothing to the real meaning of life.'

'You forget, Pol-Chi, that the ignorance here among men, even at the highest levels, is abysmal. No wonder it's so difficult for man to transcend or translate to the next level or whatever. I want to give the next Age some kind of head-start and so avoid this kind of morass at the end of the Age.'

'How so, Uöos? You're still talking about abstract knowledge, about illusion. Look at those men down there. How many of them will achieve translation, do you think? I'd say more than would under normal conditions. Look, Uöos, can't you see this? Knowledge merely blinds men. These men below are in the absolute extremities of fear, obsession and panic. They are literally marching into the unknown, the nothingness. Now, that's the only way to do it. You must enter into your fear. All you want to do, as you are doing for yourself now, is to build bulwarks against fear. Uöos, there's no rational solution to fear. Can't you see that, wise old friend? Fear is the very foundation of your life. It is the dawning of enlightenment. You must enter it in order to learn the truth about men. And that truth is this: that men are perpetually on the way to somewhere else. Uöos, there is no stopping, nor is there any turning back.'

Uöos looked thoroughly dejected.

'Pol-Chi, I don't doubt that what you have to say has some kind of truth to it. But I don't understand it. I can't see. How can I know what can't by its very nature be known? I just can't do it.'

Pol-Chi nodded patiently.

'Very well, Uöos, have it your own way. All I can do is show you the possibility. I can't show you any more. You have to experience it for yourself.'

Uöos lips quivered, as though he were about to cry.

Little Ki reached and touched his hand.

'Cry, friend Uöos. Let go.'

And he did, shoulders shaking miserably, head bowed.

'What about you, Sora?' Pol-Chi asked after a lingering, sympathetic glance at Uöos.

Sora also looked at Uöos, but she set her face as she turned to Pol-Chi.

'To start with, Pol-Chi, I agree with Tarko, that is, Uöos. We came here to do what we could for you. I suppose it was inevitable that it would end up in a mess. Things mostly do. Anyway, for what it's worth, I am one thousand and eighty-two years old. Don't look so surprised. We have methods for rejuvenating the body, if not the mind.' She paused and looked at Little Ki. 'I suppose I had better go through the whole thing. Look, Pol-Chi, I might as well say this at the outset, I don't believe all this nonsense about fear. You really get yourself wound up about it. I do believe that if we'd gone about this business more calmly, in a more practical, down-to-earth, way,' (A shower of hail came on, and they all crouched under the skins.) 'it might have come out better. Anyway, it's too late to worry about that.

'But returning to the other point, I think all this fear arises because you all refuse to accept life as it is. That's what I liked about Korkungal. He never fussed about life and purpose and all the other big questions you bother yourself with. I know he suffered from what we call acute separation, but that can happen to anybody who is suddenly dropped into a strange culture, especially if it is a relatively advanced one. And one of the chief symptoms of that state is a sense of being dead, which leads to apathy. But, given time, Korkungal would have adjusted. But he was not given the chance. Everyone, it seems to me, picked fights with him. You don't know how he suffered afterwards. It was terribly unjust. Why did he have to suffer for everyone's egotism?

'Now I'll grant you, Pol-Chi, that you were a good man and that you had real needs. But I think you went through your own kind of separation when you came back up here. What's happened to you since then, I don't know, but you have become callous and mocking. It's a great pity. I must tell you this, Pol-Chi,' her face strained with earnest appeal,' but I did come to love you in some way.' She caught his hand. 'You were so perceptive as a poet, do you know that? You had such knowledge of me that I felt opened up...'

'And what happened then, lovely Sora?' Pol-Chi asked gently, seeing the effect of his words on her.

'Oh, I don't know, Pol-Chi.' She started to cry again. 'There was too much pressure. Trying to handle that maniac Hepteidon made everything else impossible. Oh, Pol-Chi, I did try to give you everything.' Now she was reproachful. 'But you began to demand too much. I mean, Pol-Chi, these last months have been dreadful, what between your _attitude_ and the _thing_ you were doing, it was simply impossible to relate to you. All I can say is that I'm glad Little Ki was here,' (She smiled wanly at Little Ki, who was staring at her in amazement.) 'otherwise, goodness knows what would have happened.'

Pol-Chi took her hand gently.

'But the circle, Sora. What did you experience there?' Sora gave a long shudder.

' _Oh, that was too much_. That dreadful Hepteidon appeared beside me, holding a big erection and smiling blissfully. I mean, Pol-Chi, I didn't even _like_ the man. It was bad enough to play the role I had, without putting up with him after it was all over.'

'You could never understand, Sora, that Hepteidon always sought to _give_ you something. He thought it was the only way to save himself.'

'Me? I'm no saviour, Pol-Chi. I do what I can for people in need, but I'm not any kind of mystic.'

The ground shook again. From deep within the earth they heard a terrible drawn-out groaning. In the valley, the endless chanting was punctuated by screams. A large crack appeared across the valley. Where there had been thousands of milling soldiers, there was now only a dark chasm.

Lightning crackled, adding to the turmoil. The accompanying thunder echoed the complaining earth.

Uöos said:

'It must be close now. Let's go up on to the hill.'

As they sorted the skins, each taking one. Pol-Chi knelt beside Sora and said softly:

'Sora, I made you a goddess. Why don't you help Hepteidon?'

She brought her head up in surprise.

'What do you mean, goddess? I thought that was one of your jokes.'

'How do you think all this was possible? The only power I had came from you.'

' _I don't understand_ , Pol-Chi. What power?'

'Try it, Sora. Call Hepteidon out.'

Sora stared at him, frankly sceptical. Then she returned to the task of wrapping the skin around her shoulders.

'Oh, try it at least, Sora. You've nothing to lose.'

She pulled the skin over her head.

'How do I do it?'

'Just call him out, Sora. Concentrate without thinking. The power is in you.'

'But what could I do anyway, Pol-Chi? I don't know anything about these things.'

'Try it anyway. You'll see what to do as the situation warrants.'

Sora looked at him intently. Nodding, the remote look came into her eyes.

'Sora! Ah, Pol-Chi. Is it the end already?'

Hepteidon crouched beside them, rain beginning to run over his long black hair.

Sora put her knuckles in her mouth and stared at Hepteidon.

'Go on.' Pol-Chi prompted.

'How...how can I help you, Hepteidon?' she stammered, then added quickly. 'Pol-Chi says I can help you.'

'Forgive me, Sora, for the things I did,' Hepteidon said urgently.

'But they were not your fault,' Sora said seriously.

'Oh, Sora, they were no one's fault. Get on with it. Don't start agonising.'

' _Alright_ , Pol-Chi. But I have to see what's to be done. _I know_. Did you find your father, Hepteidon?'

Shaking his head impatiently, Hepteidon said:

'Don't bother about that any more, Sora.' He glanced at Pol-Chi and smiled. 'Friendship is more precious.'

'How? Oh.' She put her hand on his and closed her eyes.

Hepteidon brightened with joy, said 'Thanks, lovely Sora', and disappeared.

Sora snapped her eyes open.

'Where did he go?'

Pol-Chi shrugged.

'I don't know. But I think it worked. Thank you, Sora.'

Sora sat back on the wet ground, stunned.

'It _did_ work. You were right, Pol-Chi. I don't understand.'

Pol-Chi was suddenly brisk.

'Don't worry about that, Sora. There's not much time left. Call out Korkungal. Help him now.'

Sora closed her eyes.

Korkungal blinked and rubbed his jaw.

Sora immediately embraced him as best she could.

'Commander, I hear great things about you.'

'That's over now, Brigan. Sora wants to help you. What do you need?'

Korkungal shook his head, suddenly cunning.

'Ah, Sora. Sora, tell me, how is my son?'

Sora started.

'Your son?'

Korkungal leaned towards her.

'Don't take any notice of Uöos' claims. I'm his father. _I know_.'

Sora nodded.

At that moment, Uöos came back to find out what was delaying Pol-Chi and Sora.

'Korkungal!'

'Ah, old storyteller.' Korkungal laughed. 'You're wet, old man. You'll catch your death.' And laughed again.

Pol-Chi touched Sora's shoulder.

'Get on with it. There's not much time.'

Sora caught Korkungal's huge hand. 'Korkungal, how can I help save you?'

'Save me?' Korkungal was puzzled. 'I thought I was saved, as you call it. It is quiet where I am now.'

Pol-Chi nudged Sora sharply in the ribs.

The ground tremored, and went on tremoring violently.

'What are you, Korkungal? _Quickly!_ '

Korkungal looked into Sora's eyes with serious intent. 'Ah, Sora, it is true as the old storyteller said. I am the Darkness in the Dark. Only I move there...'

And disappeared.

'Who else?' Sora suddenly asked,

Before Pol-Chi could reply, Uöos ran forward again.

'Come on, Sora. We must leave now.'

They struggled in a bunch, wrapped in skins, on to the hill-top. But the wind was less strong and the rain had turned to drizzle.

Uöos went ahead, towards Griron, who sat huddled with Little Ki in the centre of the flat hill-top.

'There's Korkungal's priest, Sora. He was really innocent too.'

Sora shook her head seriously.

'I know, I know, Pol-Chi. But there are so many others.'

Pol-Chi stopped walking, catching Sora's arm.

'Well, you know your power now, Sora.'

Uöos called them urgently.

When they reached him, they discovered a round door-like object suspended in the air, unaffected by the wind or rain.

'What's that?'

'This is how we go home, Pol-Chi. It's on the other side of that, er, door.'

'Let them look in, Tarko. It won't do any harm now.'

Uöos touched his left thumbnail. The door irised open.

Beyond was a spacious, gleaming chamber, mellow _yellow_ light pouring in huge windows on two sides.

Little Ki leaned in and sniffed. 'That's your home?'

Uöos nodded. He picked Griron up and put him on the floor inside.

'Farewell, Griron.

'Goodbye, Pol-Chi. Will we meet again?'

'Perhaps. There's plenty of time.'

Little Ki leaned in again and kissed Griron on the mouth.

'Goodbye, Griron.'

The child smiled, his eyes already wise.

'Come to me in the next Age, Black Goddess.'

Little Ki clapped her hands and laughed.

'Of course. I had forgotten.'

Uöos turned to Sora.

'Come now, Sora.'

Sora turned to Little Ki and embraced her. Then she turned to Pol-Chi and threw her arms about him.

You learned silence, _and more_ , poet.

Yes, Lady. I conquered the Dark.

Laughter.

'Can I really help them, Pol-Chi?' Sora asked into his ear.

'Yes. Just go and do it.'

Sora nodded against his face. Remembering suddenly, he held her very tightly and whispered.

'You still have my love, Lovely Sora.'

She nodded again. He felt her tears on his face.

Then she turned away from him and embraced Uöos, much to his surprise.

'Why?'

But she was silent.

She leaned in and kissed Griron on the brow.

'Goodbye, _Mother._ '

Pol-Chi started and said loudly:

'Wait, Sora. There is one last thing.' She turned to him, her eyes remote and alluring. 'Sora, you asked me to name Griron. Very well, I do it now. Griron, henceforth you are to be known as Ethe-Tan, which means the Green Child. You are the Chosen, the new life, the new growth.' Pol-Chi embraced the child. Then he turned and embraced Uöos.

'Farewell, Pol-Chi. You are a _good_ man.'

'And so are you, ancient one. Remember, _there's always time.'_

Uöos was crying freely as he climbed into his home. Little Ki rushed forward.

'Uöos!'

'Oh, Little Ki.' He looked down at her breasts. Hesitant at first, then encouraged by her, he touched them lightly.

'For whatever reason, Black Beauty, the Emperor was right, you are perfection.'

When he turned to find Sora again, he, and then all of them, discovered that she had gone.

Uöos shrugged. He raised his hand in farewell as the door closed. It disappeared abruptly.

Little Ki ran into Pol-Chi's arms. He held her.

They became aware of the groaning of the earth, the rumblings of thunder in all parts of the heavens, and the staccato chanting of the battling soldiers below.

Suddenly there was yellow light everywhere.

In the west, the clouds had parted. Ilgem hung, covering the whole quarter, radiating a soft yellow lustre.

'Lovely till the end,' Pol-Chi commented, narrowing his eyes against the immense glowing body.

The yellow tunics and armour of the fighting soldiers, of the piled bodies of dead soldiers, of the deep mass of soldiers extending up both sides of the valley onto the plain, pressing forward to attack, reflected the light of Ilgem brilliantly.

'Like a field of buttercups,' Little Ki said, stricken by the beauty, by the sadness, the _inevitability_.

Then they became aware, behind all the groaning, the rolling, the chants, cries and screams, of a new sound: a steady, deep roar, which shook the ground in an ominous way.

Little Ki snuggled into Pol-Chi.

'I don't want to leave you, Pol-Chi,' she said over the uproar about them.

He held her tightly, marvelling again at the beautiful shape of her.

'One last time. _Please_ , bull.'

She knelt in the wet grass and mud, letting her protective skin fall away. Pol-Chi lifted her gown and kneeled behind her and clutched her pendulous breasts, feeling again the beautiful, _even_ lust that rose in him.

She whimpered when he entered her, pushing back with all her strength. When he rammed into her again, she screamed her loudest, pressing back to him feverishly, pushing her breasts against his pressing hands, delighting in the agony of it.

They both screamed at their climax, whooping, jigging, riding, pushing, clawing, until Little Ki fell over into the mud and Pol-Chi tipped over sideways, laughing, shouting, sprawling in the mud.

When she had regained her breath she said,

'Come with me for a while, Pol-Chi. I'm sure that's possible.'

'Why, Little Ki? We won't be corporeal there.'

She looked downcast.

'Is that all that matters, Pol-Chi? _Don't you even like my company?'_

Pol-Chi jumped up and went to her.

'No! You're right, Black Beauty. I'll come with you.'

The deep roar had increased in volume until it drowned all other sounds.

On the northern horizon they saw a grey, smoky spume. Even as they watched, it grew.

Pol-Chi grinned.

'The last gift.'

Little Ki understood, too, quite suddenly. And laughed. She could discern that it was a gigantic tidal wave –

'The Ser-Gal, Black Beauty, the Green Stone, the Jewel of Peace.'

The soldiers on the slopes were becoming aware of the sound. Those higher up, on the plain, could see the wave. It came on rapidly, seeming to rise up out of the earth.

Bathed in the bright yellow light of Ilgem, it was like a huge wall of green stone, flecked with yellow and deep blue.

Down on the river bed, struggling around on the corpses of their kinsmen and enemies, the fighting soldiers became aware of the wave.

No one ran. There was nowhere to run to.

Instead, about eight million eight hundred and eighty thousand soldiers turned and watched, _silent_ and _beyond fear_ , the immense _green_ mountain of sea water bear down on them rapidly.

Pol-Chi raised his hands.

'The Ser-Gal will bring the stillness.'

The wave rolled along the river bed, along the valley sides, and along the plain of the Grasslands on either side.

Remorselessly, the wave approached. Soldiers craned their necks to see the peak of it, bubbling with bright yellow foam.

Then it swept down on the soldiers.

None cried out.

Pol-Chi and Little Ki bid Ilgem farewell, held hands and

Then Mataran focused his 'power'.

'Who are you?'

'Mataran. And you?'

'Selsara.'

'Where?'

'On the Torp of Sastra, bending on the Gyre of Arp.'

'Bending?'

'Turning back, but only on the Gyre.'

'But _turning back_ , Selsara?'

'Enlightenment must be possible. It must have a beginning.'

'Why do you still seek enlightenment?'

'No, no, Mataran. I serve to _give_ enlightenment to those attached to the Gyre.'

'Ah. You bring the light in the dark, Selsara. The light that preserves the dark.'

'Yes, Mataran, I give love, The Black Light of Presence. You have known its frisson.'

'Often, Black Goddess.'

'I am glad, Bull, that I gave you love. I couldn't know then. Love cannot be known; only its empty place, always filling, can be _seen_.'

'You gave much love, Selsara, I see that now. But why do you serve now, Black Beauty?'

'Ah, Rampant Bull, how far you have gone. You forget that others still need.'

'But those in need _take_ , Little Pet. There is no need to serve. Why, then, do you still serve?'

'Go, Bull, you no longer need me. I can see that.'

'But why do you stay?

'I have no other place to go.'

'Ah, Black Beauty, why do you court ignorance still? Did I not show you the truth?'

'Your truth is not my truth, Bull. I serve freely.'

' _You serve because slaves are never alone._ '

'We are all slaves, Pol-Chi. Why can't you see that? Now, go from me.

'GO!'

'Trin!'

'Pilto?'

'See, you were not long away, my friend.'

'Just three earth days, Pilto.'

'Did you witness the ending of the Age, then? That's always a spectacular event, in any Aeon.'

'Yes, Pilto. And to say farewell to my friends.'

'Are you sad?'

'Yes.'

'The ending of an Age is bitter, Trin. But as you said, "motion is free". Don't let attachments to what is gone rule you.'

'You are right, of course, Pilto.'

'Come with me now, my friend. You have much to learn.'

'More illusions, Pilto?'

'There are always illusions. There must be limits.'

'There are no limits in the end, Pilto.'

'Don't be bitter, Trin. You'll forget, believe me. We all suffer separations in one Aeon or another.'

' _Don't you know_ , man of the five hundred and twenty-ninth Aeon? There is no forgetting, because there is no remembering.'

'You're agitated, Trin. Be careful. You don't know your power yet.'

'Don't I, Pilto?'

' _Don't do it_ , Trin. Be patient. _There is always time._ '

'I must, friend Pilto. There is only one enlightenment. So there is only one truth.'

'How can you know something like that, Trin? Anyway, there are many here who would dispute that.'

'I don't know it, Pilto, I see it. But tell me, as a matter of interest, what is a Kalo?'

'I've never heard of such a thing, Trin.'

'Have you ever heard of the Gyre of Arp?'

'No. But why all these questions?'

'Tell me, then, Pilto, how do you know the Aeons exist?'

'What curious questions. I have experienced them, Trin. That's why I say they exist.'

'But who told you of their existence? Pilto, _who prepared you to expect them?_ '

'No one, of course. I discovered them for myself, Trin.'

'Why am I here, Pilto? Why am I not in a Kalo, or on a Gyre?'

'I don't know what you're talking about, Trin.'

'Then tell me this, _do I resemble your friend Sin?_ '

'You ask too many questions, Trin. You must be patient and learn the knowledge of this Aeon. Then all your questions will be answered.'

'Very well, I'll answer them myself. You called me here, Pilto, in the name of _friendship._ '

'It is sincere friendship, Trin.'

' _What do you fear_ , Pilto? Why do you refuse to use the power you have discovered?'

'There is yet much to learn, Trin.'

'There is nothing to learn, Pilto. There is only one thing to do.'

'No, Trin. Don't do it. _There is always time.'_

' _Who makes time_ , Pilto?'

'Trin, Trin, why do you question everything? I give you friendship. Is that not enough?'

'You give me illusions, Pilto. You look in a mirror and seek the truth there.'

' _Stop it_ , Trin. Why do you have to destroy everything?'

'So that you will see the truth.'

'But I wish to help you, Trin.'

'As I once helped you, Pilto?'

'Yes.'

'But I did not give you _my_ truth, Pilto. I merely showed you the way.'

'Trin, _I see the truth in you._ '

'So you still seek your god, _Hepteidon?_ '

'Ah, Pol-Chi. You were always perceptive.'

'That is not difficult, Hepteidon. Now, at the parting, I will tell you your truth...'

'Don't go now, Pol-Chi. This place is dark without you.'

'...I'll tell you only once, Hepteidon -

'YOU ARE YOUR OWN GOD.

'Hepteidon, as I once said before, you chase your tail. But now I see that you do not wish to catch it. You will turn outwards, even now, and haunt your universe of Aeons, and Ages, and Time, not seeking, as you wish to believe, but hiding from the ghost you fear.'

'Pol-Chi, why do you mock me? I seek only that which I lack. It is my incompleteness which haunts me. Make me whole, Pol-Chi.'

'You have spread your incompleteness, as you call it, out around you. Call it back, Hepteidon. Make yourself whole. Exercise the power in you.'

'I cannot do it, Pol-Chi. For then I would no longer be free, I could not return.'

'There is no returning, Hepteidon. Why can't you _see_ even the simplest thing? There is no forgetting, because there is no knowing, and there is no returning. You are everything and you are everywhere.'

'I don't understand you, Pol-Chi. Once you gave me freedom, now you deny its worth.'

'Hepteidon, distinguish between knowledge that seeks its own obliteration and the knowledge that releases you from its domination. I gave you freedom because you wanted it then, because it allowed you to act. But that should have been the end of freedom. What you have done instead, as you have always done, is to let yourself be seduced by a new illusion. Let your knowledge go. It's not worth possessing.'

'I cannot give up some-thing for no-thing, Pol-Chi. It's impossible.'

'Then I can no longer help you, Hepteidon.'

'What will I do if you go?'

'There is always time, Hepteidon. Goodbye.'

'Pol-Chi, _time for what?..._ '

– In the dark, the presence was being by –

I am not alone, after all.

Were you ever alone, poet?

In the end I saw only loneliness.

– The laughter was everywhere, but it echoed nowhere.

How brave, poet, and tragic – who was more cared for than you, fainthearted poet?

Sora?

Ha! That is ended too, poet. There is no turning back now. You said as much yourself.

Then who are you?

– The presence being by was there –

Lady, you sow the Deep!

Do you love me, poet?

With all my

– _His light was white: no mystery,_

lighting nothing, hence dark –

Go now, poet. There is one last thing.

Go? Where is there to go now, Lady? I...

There is only one end. You said this yourself, poet. Enter it.

But, Lady, I have failed. There must be the Last Man.

Ha, poet! Every man is the Last Man.

Lady... you make me afraid of my failure.

Poet, with pity I ask you, did you not learn that no man can conceive of his own death? Go now. Let go...I give you this gift.

**

The Field of Peace is the third volume of the Nothing Darker Than the Light trilogy, which chronicles the struggles of a diverse group as they face the total destruction of their world by a passing heavenly body

The full title list is as follows:

Volume One: The White City

Volume Two: The Land of Fire

Volume Three: The Field of Peace

All these novels are available for download on this site.

This trilogy is part of the opening section of a larger cycle of novels called Dark Liberation. A short Introduction to Dark Liberation is available for download on this site. Most of the novels of this cycle will be published here.

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