The Shattered Goddess (7 page)

CHAPTER 6

Lessons

“As long as you are here,” said Hadel the Nagéan one day, “I might as well teach you how to read.”

“But I already know how to read,” said Ginna. “At least a little.”

“Fine. Good. Then read this.” Hadel handed him a book. A passage in it had been marked:

In the beginning, the seed of the Earth sat motionless in the void of Unbeing. From that
seed a god emerged, and walked completely around it in three strides. With the first he created the air, with the second the seas, with the third, land. In the fullness of time this god died, and a second rose out of the scattered dust of his corpse, walking over the sea and onto the land, his head high in the air. The Earth had grown larger since the birth of the first god, and the second circled
it in four strides, with which the seasons were divided from one another, winter, spring, summer, fall, as the humor of the god changed. Next came a goddess, who took the dust of the first god and the bones of the second unto herself. She set the Earth spinning; she placed the crown she wore in the sky to be called the sun, dewdrops from her hair to shine as stars; she gave birth to men and beasts,
and when she died a new deity arose out of her remains, out of mankind, and out of the beasts. The world grew larger with each age in the lifetime of each god, each goddess, each one of which was both god and goddess, each cycle burying the past, until time encrusted the original seed, layer upon layer, like the skin of an onion.

Ginna looked up when he had finished.

“Well, do you
believe it?” Hadel leaned over his desk, his moustache twitching. He had never looked more rat-like.

“I don’t know.” The boy didn’t know what to say. Those strange poems he had copied said somewhat the same thing as the passage he had just read, only this was a lot clearer.

“Well, it’s best you don’t I have a theory of my own, namely that the world festered in a dung-heap for aeons
upon aeons until parts of it became animate and began to write books on the subject Which of course means that you and I and everyone in the world and everything in the world is just a piece of sh-e-e-e-i-tt and there’s not much more to be said...”

He sat back in his chair behind his desk and laughed a dry, hoarse laugh like bits of old leather being rubbed together.

The boy didn’t
know what to say. It was a very strange moment.

“Remember this profound truth,” said Hadel. “It’s comforting when you’re depressed.” He laughed again and waved Ginna away.

* * * *

“As long as you are here,” said Hadel on another day. “I might as well teach you something. Look at that”

He pointed to his desk. Ginna saw only the usual clutter.

“Look more closely.”

Now he saw a tiny flower, a violet such as might be brought from the riverbank during the wet season. It was growing out of the wood of the desk top. Then there was another, and another, and grasses sprouting between them, until the whole desk had been transformed into a grassy knoll.

Ginna looked to Hadel in amazement and saw the old magician standing in a clump of wild rosebushes.

Something caught his eye, and he whirled about. There were trees stretching away as far as he could see.

He was standing on damp, soft ground covered with dead leaves. He turned around again in time to see the remnants of the study waver and disappear.

He was in the middle of a dense forest. It was the most magnificent thing he had ever seen. The greatest marvel of all was directly
above, an infinity of green branches blocked out the sun. He had never before believed the tales of such forests, which travelers claimed grew to the north, beyond the borders of Randelcainé.

All sense of direction was lost, but there came a gurgling sound from where (he thought) the window had been.

“Is it water?” he asked Hadel, then flinched inwardly at such a stupid question.

Yes, but if you find it, don’t drink. If you do, you’ll stay here forever.”

“What?”

They pushed through some underbrush. The forest floor rose into a little hill and fell into a valley beyond. Still he didn’t see any stream.

“You’re still in my study,” said Hadel, “but if you partake of anything here, you won’t be.”

“Huh?”

Suddenly something slammed into Ginna’s
face. The forest was gone. He was back in the study, rubbing his nose where he had walked into a wall. He felt around with his tongue to see if any teeth were loose.

“Well, I hope you learned something. You have experienced a very important distinction. Shallow magic is illusion, but if you go too far into it, you become illusion too.”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t we articulate today? Ginna,
I only obey The Guardian’s command, and I impart to you whatever I can, be it magical lore, history, writing, or good manners. In general I try to make a presentable human being out of you. Sometimes I fear it will be a long, hard, struggle. I’m too old for this sort of thing. That’s enough lessons for now.”

* * * *

“Traitor! Spy! Liar!”
Hadel the Nagéan screamed one day. “The Guardian
knows everything we have said. What did you do, write it all down and give him a transcript?”

“No! You must believe me! I didn’t tell anyone!”

The Nagéan rose from behind his desk. The boy stepped back at his approach. But there was no anger in the other’s face. It had drained out of him in an instant

“I believe you,” Hadel said, embracing his student, trying to hold back tears.
“I believe you, and because I do, I know you are in grave danger. I can educate you no longer. Somehow Kaemen knows everything we do, everything we think. I fear he spies on us by more than mortal means. If you told him nothing, how could he have known? This morning one of his men—no, his creatures—came to me. He mocked me. He repeated some of the things I have confided in you. Then he gave me
this message.”

The old man separated from the boy. He gave him a piece of paper which had been on his desk. The handwriting was a crude attempt at formal court calligraphy. The seal of The Guardian was on it. The text read:

Hadel of Nagé, rightfully called The Rat—

Vermin, you chatter too much. See to it that you never speak again.

“He wants you to kill yourself,” said
Ginna dumbly. “He is ordering you to die.”

“He is ordering me to silence myself, which is not quite the same thing. But I’m not sure what there is to live for, except to fulfill the prophecy the black woman made in my vision and see the end come. The Dark Powers will smother Ai Hanlo before long.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“There is nothing I can do, but I’m not sure about
you. Seek the lady of the grove and the fountain. I wish I could be more specific, but if I were, our enemy would find out I am sure he can hear us even now. You undertake the gravest risk being with me, listening to me. Don’t do anything to anger him. Try to stay alive. Now I must obey his command.”

“No, please don’t. There must be some way.”

“There is. Get out.”

“What can I
do without you?”

“Whatever is
within you.”
Hadel smiled briefly at the play on words. Wait till the egg hatches. Ultimately, my friend, you must rely on yourself alone. Now go.”

Ginna wept as he left the room. He closed the door behind him and stood at the top of the flight of stairs which would take him down, out of the magician’s tower, into one of the countless courtyards. He could
not bear to go. He sat down and pressed his ear to the door.

For a long time he heard nothing. Then there was a grunt, the sound of papers and books falling from Hadel’s desk, and a pained gurgling.

“Stop it!”
He threw the door open and rushed into the room.

Hadel, seated at his desk, looked up at him. Hastily he dropped something into a drawer and closed it He took a pen and
paper and scribbled a note. Ginna took it and read:

With a long, thin, very sharp knife, I have reached down my throat and cut my vocal cords. Thus I obey the order of The Guardian.

* * * *

He dropped the note and stared at the Nagéan in horror.

Hadel gurgled again, coughed up a mouthful of blood, and fainted, head down onto his desk.

* * * *

The days that followed
were grey. The sun refused to show itself. The sky never grew brighter than the color of steel. Chill winds blew out of the desert, bringing festering dark clouds with them.

The Powers were gathering in Ai Hanlo. Ginna was sure of it He didn’t know if anyone else could see what he saw, but he could tell that people were afraid. All Amaedig would say was that she felt uneasy and the weather
was bad. She would be better when it was. But he noticed that there was no laughter in the world anymore. He had always enjoyed sitting on the battlements, listening to the jokes and songs of the people in the market place in the lower city, but now they went about their business in sullen silence, all eyes averted from the walls above. In the palace itself, men and women passed one another in
the corridors without a word. At meals they whispered and made signs.

He was almost sure that they too saw shadows when there was nothing to cast them, and recognized the menace in the angry sky. He wondered if others had experiences like the one he had one night while returning from the library.

He had come across a dark passageway he did not recognize. Wondering if it might not be
a short-cut to the level on which his room was located, he entered it. Bare brick walls curved endlessly past heavy doors, all of them barred. Faint flickering light came through slits in one of the walls, from torches and lanterns beyond.

At last he reached a stairway leading upward. A torch was set in the wall at the base of it. The scene didn’t look right, and he paused until he had figured
out why. Slowly he realized that with the torch there, there should have been light and long shadows cast up the stairs. But the flames were not very bright, and only the bottom three steps were visible, the rest shrouded in impenetrable blackness.

He put a foot on the lowest step. Something stirred above. The sound was like an enormous rug being dragged across stone. He stood on the second
step and the thing moved again, drawing away from him. On impulse he leaned forward and plunged a hand into the blackness. He felt a rough, dry surface. It yielded slightly to the touch.

Suddenly the blackness recoiled from him like a living creature, revealing the fourth step, the fifth, the sixth, stirring up enormous amounts of dust, which stung his eyes. He reeled back down the stairs,
then recovered, and for some reason he could not fathom grabbed the torch and pursued the thing until he came to a doorway at the top of the stairs. It led into a corridor. Looking around, he knew where he was: near one of the kitchens, not at all where he wanted to be. The place was dark and empty, but the light of his torch cast normal shadows. Everything seemed in order.

What had he seen?
The impression came to him afterwards of an enormous black snake slithering away at his approach.

He went back down the stairs, torch in hand, along the winding tunnel until he emerged into the opening beneath the murky, overcast sky. He made his way back to his quarters by the normal route. But even as he did he chanced to look up at the golden dome of the palace. It seemed to glow faintly
against the night

He saw something. He was sure of it There could be no doubt that dim, winged shapes like enormous moths, some of them without any clear outline and little more than drifting patches of darkness, were gathering at the top, around the skylight

“We have got to leave the city,” he told Amaedig that night. They sat in their room, in the dark. They had no candle. He closed
his hands together and made a ball of light.

“You’ve been saying that for a week now, ever since poor Hadel did what he did. But
where
shall we go, and
how?”

“I don’t know. But we’re in danger. Everyone is.”

“Yes, I know that,” she said quietly. “But it is because the danger is here, coming from The Guardian himself, that you can’t get away. The soldiers would never let you go,
even into the lower city.”

“Me?
Just me? You too. Listen: now that Hadel can’t talk anymore and no one is allowed to see him—I went there and there’s a guard in front of his door—and now that all this has happened... you’re the only person I have left. Everyone else is afraid to talk. The Goddess knows I wouldn’t want to talk to Kaemen, although I am sure he would want to listen, particularly
if I were on the rack at the time. So when I go, will you come with me? Please? What good would it do you to stay here?”

“Of course.
Of course.
I will. I wouldn’t have too much to do without you around. Someone would make me into a drudge.”

He thought she smiled, but the room was too dark to see.

He lay awake with her for a while, saying nothing. He juggled balls of light in
the air. After a while they slept.

* * * *

On a chilly morning they stood in the Place of the Lion, one of the many rooftop gardens, now neglected, in the middle of which stood an image of the animal carved in green stone.

“I wish,” said Ginna as he ran his hand over the beast’s mossy paw, “that the two of us could climb on the back on this lion and make him leap over the walls
and carry us away to some distant land or another world. Hadel said there were many worlds where men lived once, up in the sky. I don’t know if they’re still there, but if this lion were alive, I’m sure he could cross the gap between them.”

“An old woman told me that once they were alive, but only when a guardian willed it. He and the courtiers would play a game with them, using the animals
as pieces and the whole palace as a board. They moved between the squares like this one. But that was a long time ago.”

“Since then the lion has been stuck here, like us.”

The two of them walked to the edge of the garden. Looking over the parapet, they could see the whole lower city spread out before them like a map. Nearby, before the Sunrise Gate, were crowds of mendicants, many
of them gathered from the most distant lands of the globe, waiting for some residue of the holiness of The Goddess to touch them and drive their afflictions away. Many were raised naked on platforms, high above the crowd. Even from a distance, Ginna could tell they were shivering in the wind beneath the grey sky. A priest was standing on a wall, his arms upraised, blessing them. This, Ginna knew,
was actually a duty of The Guardian, but one nowadays neglected more often than not.