The End of the Game (53 page)

Read The End of the Game Online

Authors: Sheri S. Tepper

BOOK: The End of the Game
7.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Mistaken?” A breath. A sigh.

“Mistaken?” I demanded. “Mistaken in what? What have you done?”

“Not done,” breathed Cernaby. “Been.”

“Long ago,” said Bartelmy, “far in the past, there were creatures who ran the roads of Lom. Looking deep into the past, we have seen them.”

“I saw them, too,” I said impatiently. “When I looked into the past in Chimmerdong.”

“But those creatures run the roads no longer. Not since we came. Lom cries for this journey to be made, this endless journey.”

“The blind runners do it,” I said. “All the time. Every year.”

“Not correctly. Not as it should be done. They cannot. The roads are broken. And they are still too near to ... to humanity.”

“And you are not?”

“We have bred ourselves for centuries to run the roads of Lom as we believed another creature did before us. We have believed this to be Lom’s will. But if this is Lom’s will, then Lom would not will to die. If Lom wills to die, then what does Lom will for us?”

“To die also,” I said flatly. “I don’t know what you Dervishes have been up to all these centuries, Bartelmy of the Ban. I don’t know what Barish thought he was doing fooling around with that hundred thousand Gamesmen under the mountain. I don’t know what any of us thought we were doing. All I know is that every sign points to this world wishing
itself
dead.”

“But this must be recent...”

“Not all that recent, no. Within old Buttufor’s lifetime, certainly. He can remember the crystals coming out blue and green when he was young. He is over a hundred now. But it has not been long.”

“Why? Why?”

“Listen to me,” I said again. “I’m not going to waste my time asking why. I’ve been thinking about this for days now. In Bloome I thought about it. Outside Fangel, it seemed sure. After leaving the others, I did nothing but think about it. If a person wished himself dead, we would assume he was sick. Injured, perhaps. Well, we know well enough this world is injured. You told me that, Bartelmy. It was you told me to fix the roads in Chimmerdong. Was that only an exercise? Some kind of lesson you wished me to learn? Or did it mean something?

“And if it meant something, then why are you here? Why are you doing your dances when there are roads broken everywhere? Why are we wondering why the world wishes itself dead when we are doing nothing to heal it?”

“How do you know this?” A sigh again. Was there a hint of anguish in it? Of injured pride?

“I know it because I am Dervish born, Gamesman reared, wize-art trained. I know it because I am Jinian Footseer and have run those roads while you all were studying to do so. I know it because I have seen all its signs and portents across all the lands, seen the clues to it where I have walked and ridden, heard its voice in the quiet reaches of the night. I know it because I know it.

“I know it because logic tells me it must have happened. A world, this one, Lom, which has existed for untold time, which is in balance with itself, which is healthy, which sends messages to all parts of itself in order to stay in balance, to stay healthy. Messages to groles and Shadowmen and Eesties. And into this world comes man, the destroyer, for whom no message has been made.

“What then? What does logic say must have happened? It says that Lom must have made a message for men and about men. A blue crystal, telling men their place in this world. Showing them the balance. And the message was sent.

“But evil walked upon the roads of the world, evil and envy and pride. Evil which did not want man in this world at all. Evil which believed man would die if deprived of the message meant for him. Not knowing Lom would die, instead. So the message meant for man was stolen away, taken into deep caverns and hidden there, where no creature might receive it.

“Except Queynt, who was given the message by the Shadowpeople in the long ago.

“Except a few, here and there, who found it without knowing what they found.

“Except the people of a chasm far over the sea, who found it, knew what they had found, and brought it to Mavin Manyshaped, their friend.

“Except for Jinian, who took that message and carried it with her and carries it now!” I staggered. Suddenly my legs wouldn’t hold me and I plopped to my knees, shaking. “A message meant for me. And you. And every human person here. And for all other creatures as well.” I had given almost all of them to Peter, retaining only eight or ten. I took one of the small blue crystals out of my pouch, almost dropping it from trembling fingers. I passed it first to Bartelmy. “There isn’t much of it. Make it go as far as you can ...”

“Hold!” The voice hummed from the back of the throng, a reverberating, gonglike sound. “Hold, Bartelmy of the Ban! I, Marno of the Morning, speak. You hold a crystal in your hand. Has Jinian Footseer tasted it?”

“I have not.”

“Then why should we?” The voice was cold and scornful. My heart sank beneath the weight of it.

“I will if you wish. I have not.”

“Why have you not?”

“Because I know what it says. And I am vain and proud and would do the message’s will of my own will, knowing I do it of my own sense and intelligence, without compulsion. But if I cannot gain your understanding in any other way, I will taste it.”

“Taste it, then!”

“No!” This was Bartelmy, in a voice that ached. “This is a Dervish daughter. My daughter. If she would do a thing of her own will, is there any Dervish would say her nay? And if I would do a thing of my will, is there any Dervish who will deny me? So, what I do, I do of my own will.” The crystal disappeared beneath the fringes of her veil and in a moment reappeared to be thrust into Cernaby’s hand.

It passed from there beneath the concealing fringes, here and there, mouth to hand to hand to mouth, from one silver pillar to another. Some refused it. Most tasted it. I gave them all the others but three. Fringes shook, quivered, bodies turned. One reeled into another. Some cried out. Then stillness. The Dervishes were there in their thousands, assembled rank on rank, and the rear ranks quivered now as the remnant of the crystal passed.

“How long?” asked Bartelmy. “How long, Jinian?”

“How long? How long ago did this world send us that message? You guess, Bartelmy. Soon after we came here, I would suppose. If we came here a thousand years ago, perhaps a few hundred less than that. More or less.”

“And who robbed us of it?”

“I don’t know. I suspect, but I don’t know. A race of creatures, ambitious, proud, who did not want this man on this world. A race of beings who sought to drive me away, who gathered the message crystals up, every one, and who took them to the cavern where the giants dwelt. Some creature which hated man.” I could not identify that creature. I suspected. Only suspected.

“Is it too late?”

“It may be. I suppose we could give up with good grace. Lie down and die. Disport ourselves for a time, like lice on a corpse. Or go on dancing while the shadow comes. The shadow is part of this, I’m sure. You’ve seen it Bartelmy. I’ve seen it. Perhaps all you Dervishes have seen it. It flows now, from somewhere, like a flood. Where is it coming from?” Silence greeted this, but they did not disagree. “Of one thing I am very sure. If this world dies, we will not survive it long, but we might play while there is time.

“Or we might try, whether it is too late or not. Try to get the roads fixed. Try to get some runners on them. Yourselves, since that’s what you’ve been breeding for. What race ran these roads before we came?”

“Eesties. We have seen so with the deep look.”

“Eesties? Really?” This did surprise me. “I thought it might be Shadowpeople.”

“No. Eesties. We look into the past and see them spinning upon the roads, spinning into the ancient cites. They spin. As we do. Those odd doors in Pfarb Durim? Larger at the top? They are Eesty doors. It was an Eesty city. All across the world there are ruins with those doors.”

“That’s why you’re Dervishes. You copied them.”

“We tried. It is said one of them helped us originally.”

“You copied them, but then just sat about waiting?”

“We thought ... we thought the day would come. We were holding ourselves in readiness for the day.”

“The day when someone else would fix things?”

“The day things would be fixed, somehow. Yes.” A collective sigh. Then, “Jinian, why was it you who saw this?”

I considered this. How had I known it? How did anyone know things? “I don’t know, Bartelmy. There always has to be someone to see things first. By the time Queynt gets to Himaggery in the south, others may have seen. Surely—oh, surely you will not merely stay here in your pervasion and let it happen.”

“What can we do?”

“Mavin told me you have powers. You changed Himaggery into a beast one time.”

“We made him think he was.”

“Then you can make Tragamors and Sorcerers think they are road builders. You can make Demons think they are hunting fustigars to seek out whoever robbed us of the message. You can make Healers think they are Lom fixers. I don’t know. You can do something!”

“If there are more of these crystals across the sea,” said Cernaby, “they must be brought here. Shared out.”

“Better late than not at all,” came a voice from the ranked multitude. “Better a tardy lover than a lonely bed.” A quiver of what could have been laughter ran through the ranks. Laughter? I was shocked at this, realizing only later that it was the laughter of despair.

“You can help Himaggery decide how to get west over the sea and back again. It took Beedie and Roges three years, and we don’t have three years to spend. Mavin flew there, Beedie said. Which means Shifters can fly there and bring crystals back. Oh, Dervishes, I beg you ...”

“You need not beg,” said Bartelmy. “I told you once to stop crying and get to work. I will not wait for you to say the same to me ...”

“Mother,” I said, shivering at the sound of the word in my mouth. “Mother. Do not take time to confer. Can you truly set your patience aside?”

“When we must. Yes, Jinian. When we must.” They went. I was not sure which way they went, except that in a few moments all were gone. Beside me the door to the hut stood open. Within were two narrow beds, a table with two chairs. A cupboard. They had indeed set their laws aside and prepared for my visit. I sat at the table, laid my head upon my arms, and wept as I had not wept since Chimmerdong, weariness mostly. Sadness, perhaps. And after weeping I lay upon the narrow cot and slept.

When I woke Cernaby was standing in the doorway.

“I waited,” said the Dervish. “We wanted to know what you were going to do next, and Bartelmy thought you might need one of us to carry a message somewhere, to someone.”

“Where are the others?”

“Some have gone south to others of our race. Some to find Queynt and the rest and be sure they reach the south safely. Some into the Shadowmarches in search of the Shadowpeople, though it may be we will need Mavin to help in that search. Some to the caves where the hundred thousand lie. A few to the giants’ cavern to see whether any of the blue crystals remain there when the waters drain away. Some to carry messages among those others, to keep us all informed.”

I stared at her incredulously. “So quickly! I did not think it possible.”

“We are not benighted, Jinian. If we have had any fault, it has been too much pride. We had a revelation from our founder. We had Seers’ visions which we misinterpreted. We had what we thought was the answer and we troubled to look no further. Who ever believes that time will end before one’s solution can be put into place?”

I laughed, coughing. “Give me a moment, Cernaby. You have moved faster than I can.” I rose, walked around the room, found bread in the cupboard, ate some of it with a cup of water from the pitcher on the table. “It seems I am part of this matter. Not of my own doing, but merely because Murzemire Hornloss saw me involved in it. If for no other reason than that, I must play out that part.” I thought long on this. Then, “Cernaby, my thanks. No. This is one of those games without a name and which I keep getting involved in. Let me play it out, I do not think your presence will matter. Though I would welcome your company, perhaps your company is not what is most needed. I would rather you carry a message for me. To Murzy—Murzemire Hornloss. Tell her what we found. Tell her to raise the sevens. In all my dreams I can think of only three forces in this land unified enough to do anything sensible: the sevens, the Immutables, and the Dervishes. Himaggery and Barish will argue. Mavin will go kiting off on her own wild way. The pawns? Well, what powers have we left them that would make them useful now? Peter has destroyed the Magicians. Beedie’s people are far away. So. Go to the Immutables, and carry the word to Murzemire with my love.”

Cernaby did not linger. There was no sentimentality among the Dervishes, there was little enough sentiment. When she was gone, I was alone in the pervasion with only my thoughts for company. I went through a number of the huts, packing what food I found. There was not much. Evidently the Dervishes lived on air, or sunlight. It would not have surprised me much to learn this was true. When I had repacked everything, as tightly and neatly as possible, I went back the way I had come. Wherever I was going next, I wanted Peter with me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I arrived at the pillar of red stone. Peter wasn’t there. I didn’t really expect him. It would have taken some time for him to get to the Bright Demesne—assuming that’s where everyone was, which might not be the case—and convincing them of anything might take longer. Unless he’d simply put the crystals in their soup. Which I abhorred philosophically but thought might be pragmatically justified. As long as it wasn’t me it was done to.

Since it was possible I might have a long wait, I made a good camp, summoning up a few flood-chucks to help me with it. They explained they were very busy cleaning up the storm damage, and I explained that I understood all that, but I needed a camp nonetheless.

We bowed to one another and said it all once again.

Finally we compromised on a tightly woven hut thatched with reeds on the shore of a nearby lake. They threw in a latrine as lagniappe. We bowed again, satisfying one another with our mutual respect, and then I gave them one of the blue crystals, which they shared before moving away very thoughtfully into the woods. I had not even taken time to consider before giving them the crystal. It seemed right they should have it.

Other books

The Passport by Herta Muller
Admiral by Phil Geusz
Fowl Weather by Bob Tarte
John Saturnall's Feast by Norfolk, Lawrence
Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend by Shana Galen - Jewels of the Ton 03 - Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend
Her Dad's Friend by Penny Wylder