INTERLUDE
The Emperor and the Ghoul
The Emperor and the Ghoul
THE great door creaked faintly as
the emperor pushed it open, startling the orange-speckled house
lizard on the wall into frantic though short-lived flight. It ran
only a few spans before crouching against the edge of a tapestry,
watching him with its cat-pupiled eyes. She'lu felt a brief
amusement, considered flicking the tiny beast with his power. What
audacity it had, a common house lizard, entering the court of an
emperor!
He let it go. It was told that the
spotted ones were good luck, and even an emperor needed that.
Especially now, with the increased Dehshe raids on the border
garrisons, the icy relations with once-friendly Lhe, and Dangul, at
the limits of the Swamp Kingdoms, pressing to levy a tariff—a
tariff-—on goods shipped through their
territory. It was a modest tax, of course, easily paid, but a
subject did not—could not—tax its emperor. Even the backward Swamp Kingdoms knew that,
which could only mean that Dangul was testing the waters, hoping to
gain greater, if not complete, independence.
In the morning he would dispatch a
company of soldiers and Jik under the command of his nephew Nen
She' to deal with the governor of Dangul, but there was no telling
how well prepared the governor was, how good his spies were.
Another reason to send Nen She'; he would be a capable enough ruler
if the governor bowed to him without resistance, but if the mission
failed and he was killed, no one would miss him, either—at least,
not much. But then, of course, She'lu would have to send real troops, and that he did not relish doing at
all. Wars cost money, and it seemed the Nhol had fought many wars
of late. All small, all mere nuisances, but costly
nevertheless.
He walked out onto the polished,
bloodred stone of the court, enjoying the measured, solitary
clapping of his wooden soles upon the floor. Seldom enough was he
alone; even now, guards were near, but he had laid a minor
Forbidding on them, preventing them from approaching him unless he
requested their aid or called out. So now, in the hour past
midnight, he could pace, sleepless and finally, finally alone in
this, his favorite of courts, the Court of the Ibis-Throated. It
was small, much too small for grand ceremonies, not severe enough
to convene the everyday matters of the empire. Indeed, since his
father's day, the court had seen no official use. But after
She'lu's accession—when his father had begun the withering, as often happened to the Waterborn when
they passed their seventieth year—his father had brought him
here, with Nyas, the vizier, and the three
of them had stayed, long into the night, drinking plum wine and
speaking of things they had never spoken of. There were many such
things; after all, She'lu had barely seen
his father until after his fifteenth year, and even when he moved
down the Hall of Moments to join the family after passing the
priestly tests, his father was distant, cold, the emperor. It was
only after, when the crown came off, that the old man spoke of
love, of his pride in his son, of his grief over the loss of his
other son, L'ekezh. Even that last had touched She'lu; he had
always been jealous of L'ekezh, but when they took his twin off,
shrieking, to the depths below the Darkness Stair and left
him to inherit the throne
unchallenged—well, after that he could afford to be generous, to
pity his brother.
He had often met with his father
and Nyas, secretly, the guards away and Forbidden, learning from
the two of them how to be an emperor. Two years only, but he
remembered them as the best years of his life. Young, excited by
his role as lord of Nhol and its empire, touched by his father's
long-hidden care. Then the old man withered and died, and his
corpse was taken off by the priests while it was still warm, to be
joined back into the River, and he had become emperor in earnest,
learning the eternal, wearying drudgery that mingled with and
eventually overwhelmed the excitement.
He stroked his hand on a yellowed
column, slender as the legs of a crane, gazed up at the stars
showing faintly through the eye-shaped aperture in the domed
roof.
He had thought, someday, to bring a
son of his own here. He would not have waited so long, until he stepped
down and had only months to live. He would
have shown a son affection the moment he ascended to the Hall of
Moments, left childhood and its terrible possibilities behind. But
the seed of the River had never produced for him a son. Of late he
had turned his mind toward daughters—someone of his blood to share his stories, his
secret thoughts, who would adore him as he had adored his own
father. But with the two who had ascended, he had waited too long.
Both were married, and like their mother they enjoyed the cloudlike
wonder and oblivion induced by Nende'ng, the black snuff from Lhe,
more than they did conversation. Hezhinata, who had been the
youngest, was now slain by the Jik, but that had been necessary,
and privately he would have rather had her slain than sent down to
where L'ekezh still dwelt.
She'lu paused in front of the
throne but did not sit on its sable cushion. Instead, he lowered
himself to the steps, as he had when his father was still alive. He
had refused to let the old man sit below him; even though She'lu was emperor in fact, in the
Court of the Ibis-Throated, he gave his father the throne. Yes, it
was a shame he had never brought any of his children here, when
they were young enough, even though they were daughters. He could
at least have told them about their grandfather. Hezhi—if not the
others—would have probably liked that. Though he knew little enough
of the child, he did know that she had spent her last months in the
library, that she had apparently enjoyed reading, relished learning
of the past He smiled; secretly—very
secretly—he was proud of his daughter. She must have had power, power rivaling his own. Her sisters had shown
no sign of such. Hezhinata had killed priests, many priests, and a Jik. Of course, her bodyguard
had killed some of those, but still…
She'lu frowned. Certainly he felt
pride, had felt it since the day Hezhinata was killed. But what he
felt now was almost a glow, a silly
sentimentality. He realized that all of his
thoughts had been flavored with nearly lachrymose emotion, and a
faint suspicion stole over him. Why had he awakened? Not that it
was an uncommon experience for him to lack
sleep. But it seemed to him that a dream had brought him out of
bed, one of the simple-colored dreams the River sent now and then.
More and more of those dreams had come of late, but rarely did they
reveal anything to him that was of help in his policies. When he
could remember them, he would discuss them with Nyas, and together
they would try to sort them out, but this was different. He could
not remember the dream itself, but it had left him thinking maudlin
thoughts about his father and his daughters. No, not his daughters,
but his daughter, Hezhinata, the only child
of his to be born with power.
Thinking of this now, he recognized
the signs. The River wanted him to think of her—something he was
not in the habit of doing. Certainly the thought of bringing her
here had passed briefly, whimsically,
through him, as had the fleeting joy that one of his seed had so
frustrated and wounded the priesthood. But these feelings of
love came from the River. At least, most of
them did. He sighed. Should he wake Nyas?
At that moment he felt something,
the equivalent of a foot-scrape or a loud breath, but it was not
sound. Someone was here, in this room, with power. She'lu pursed
his lips. Not power like the priests, that annoying power of
not that got progressively stronger with
the rank of the priest. No, this had “sounded” more
familiar.
He flooded the room with force,
filling it so quickly with his puissance that it would be
impossible for the intruder to slip away undetected. If the
intruder were Human, he would be dead or mindless in an instant,
but She'lu already knew the hidden one was more than
that.
“Show yourself,” he snapped, as the
air rippled with killing magics.
Someone stepped from the shadows.
He seemed to be shrugging off the attack, maintaining an admirable
calm as he did so. She'lu could sense a sort of raw power that
might be as great as his own, but it was artless, and he knew that
his attack must be causing some pain. Despite this, his visitor
walked out into the center of the floor, bent to one knee, and
bowed deeply.
More puzzled than ever, She'lu
withdrew the spears and nets of his strength and laid them into a
dike about himself, securing his person but still prepared to lash
out if need be. Who was this man? Even the most powerful of the
royal family would have been at least stunned by his show of force,
and yet this man retained the ability to walk and
kneel.
“Thank you, my lord,” the man said,
and so showed he could speak as well.
“Who are you? Step
closer.”
The intruder did so, rising and
moving close enough for She'lu to make him out. He was a well-built
fellow with a thin, ascetic face. He was clothed simply in a black
tunic and kilt, the signature dress of the Jik.
“You are an assassin,” She'lu said
flatly.
“I am an assassin,” the man
acknowledged. “But I am no longer a Jik. I do not serve a
priesthood that does not serve the River.”
She'lu stared at the man, more
perplexed than ever. What was occurring here?
“I recognize you,” he realized.
“You were the one assigned to my daughter. The young
one.”
“My name is Ghe, Majesty, and I am
your servant.”
“You were killed, or so I heard,
along with my daughter.”
The man paused for just an instant,
and in that flicker his guard descended a bit, and She'lu could
suddenly make out more than one web of heartstrands in the man. A
sudden fear knifed into She'lu. He had heard, as a child, of such
creatures, been informed of them as an emperor.
“It is true that I was killed,
Majesty. But your daughter was not. Of that, I pray to speak to
you.”
“My daugh—” No, damn him. First things first. “You say you
died,” She'lu hissed. “But I see no ghost before me. You are a
ghoul, or something very like one.”
The man cast down his eyes and
reached to his throat. He unwrapped the black sash that obscured
it. She'lu could not make out what was thus revealed until he
conjured a pale yellow glow to illumine the court. Then he could
see plainly enough the thick ridge of scar encircling Ghe's
throat.
“A ghoul, I think,” Ghe said,
“though I know little of such things.”
“The River sends them,” She'lu said
softly, wondering if it would do any good at all to call the
guards. “When an emperor goes against the will of the River, he
sends them to kill him.”
The ghoul stroked his chin with his
thumb, a remarkably Human gesture for someone who must have been
decapitated and then given new, unholy life.
“I cannot speak for other ghouls,
my lord, but that is not the case with me. I think that you should
consider what you have heard to be yet another lie of the
priesthood.”
“My spies have told me of a ghoul
in the palace. The priests drove it from here.”
“And I have returned, at great
peril to my existence. It is true that the River gave me new life,
but it was not to harm you. You are the Chakunge, the Riverson. Why
should he wish to harm you?” The ghoul paced slowly across the
floor, and She'lu opened his mouth to speak before he realized that
he was bereft of anything to say.
“It is the priesthood, my lord,”
the man continued. “They keep your power in check, do they
not?”
“They are a nuisance,” She'lu
admitted.
“I have discovered that they are
much more than that,” the ghoul told him. “They and their temple
bind all but the tenth part of the River's power, and you are the most of that tenth part, you and your
kin. Hezhi was his greatest hope.”
“Hezhinata,” She'lu
corrected.
“No, Lord, Hezhi. She lives yet. She escaped with a barbarian
and her Giant bodyguard. Think on it and you will know that you
never saw her body.”
“The Waterborn must be given back
to the River in the crypts.”
“Another lie. I have been to the
crypts. They are prisons for your ancestors, dungeons where their
ghosts are kept to fade into eternity, never rejoining the god. But that aside, even if
they did take Hezhi there, what of her bodyguard, the barbarian?
Were their bodies seen by anyone you
trust?”
“They were left in the desert to
rot.”
“But I repeat, did this information
come from a source that you trust?”
She'lu's head was awhirl. The
things this man spoke of were incredible, but they were not
preposterous; they were all things that he himself had considered,
at one time or another. His own father had warned him of the
priesthood, as had Nyas, countless times. They had always been a
scratch in his eye, but to hear these things said, all at once—and
of course he had been suspicious of the
strange stories surrounding Hezhinata. Seven of his elite guard,
killed by some “barbarian” at the docks? She'lu had always
suspected the hand of the priesthood in that. In fact, the
barbarian was said to have been nearly impossible to kill, bleeding
from mortal wounds and yet still standing. Was that not a property
ghouls were said to possess? How many ghouls did the priesthood
control?
“Enough of this,” She'lu snapped.
“Babble no more. If you have come to kill me, do your best. If you
come for aught else, tell me what you want.”
The ghoul scratched his chin again,
a gesture that She'lu was beginning to find annoying. “I want to
find Hezhi and bring her back to Nhol. I want you to help
me.”
She'lu could not speak for several
moments, but the ghoul did not go on. The emperor vaguely realized
that this “Ghe” had done what he commanded: told him only what he
wanted and then stopped.
“What?” he whispered.
“I told my lord that—”
“Yes, yes, I understood you. She
really is alive?”
“My lord, I cannot be certain. But
I did not kill her, nor did the priests or
the soldiers. She escaped into the desert, where the River has no
power to see, and she may have been killed there, though, knowing
her, I doubt it. But she is in danger; I know that to be true. The
priesthood knows she is alive, and they will not rest until she
breathes no more. There may be others.” The ghoul's voice dropped
lower, and She'lu heard the deep sincerity in it. “My lord, the
River brought me to life for this purpose, and this purpose alone:
to find your daughter and return her to the River, so that she may
fulfill the destiny of you and all your family. Can't you see how
carefully the priests control you? They keep you from your
children, slay or bind captivé all but a few who have
power…”
“My brother was one so bound,”
She'lu interrupted. “He was insane, and would have destroyed all.
There is good reason for that binding.”
“In some
cases. I do not doubt that the power drives many to madness. But
Hezhi was his chosen, as you are, and yet they would have disposed
of her. You, they keep tranquil with
lies.”
“Have a care how you speak of me!”
The ghoul seemed to be getting bolder, less respectful by the
moment. She'lu tensed, expecting attack but unwilling to launch his
own. Despite its insolence, this creature was making a sort of
sense. And the River had prepared him for this, he realized, sent
ahead thoughts of his daughter, fond memories. Behind all of that
lurked his ever-present knowledge that the empire was losing its
form at the edges, the persistent nagging feeling that power was
somehow slipping past him, that his reach was not what an emperor's
should be.
“I'm sorry, Lord,” the ghoul
amended, “but I believe it to be the case. The priesthood has
labored for centuries to check your power in a thousand subtle
ways. Even your ghosts are kept chained.”
“You mentioned this before. What do
you mean?”
The ghoul suddenly began shivering,
power tightening around him like a cocoon, and She'lu raised his
hands reflexively. But no thrust of potence came, no claws
stretched to strike at his heart. Instead, the ghoul spoke again,
but in a very different voice. Not merely in timbre and intonation;
the very language was different, the ancient tongue of his
ancestors.
“Thou knowest this be the truth,
Chakunge my descendant. We are trapped in the tombs, starved to
nothing, until such time as we amuse them. Then they may take us
out, command us to speak, to sing, to blaspheme. We are their
library, their drama stage. They play with us, grandson of my
grandsons.”
“What?” She'lu sputtered.
“What?”
“They keep us there, in their
temple. The Chakunge himself, the First
Emperor, they keep on a leash like a dog!”
She'lu knew that this was no trick;
he could see the soul image, and it was not the ghoul's. Though he
could not tell who it was, this was certainly one of his ancestors.
His skin crawled like a bed of ants.
“Who are you, Lord?” he
asked.
“I am Lengnata, fourth to the
throne of the Nas Dynasty. Your ancestor.”
“The First Emperor is in
chains?”
“As I said. You, too, will be
chained when you die. Only a few escape, and them the priests
destroy. I myself departed only in the heart of this ghoul, and now
I am slave to him. But it is better, better. For through the ghoul,
I see the River has a plan to destroy the priesthood, and that is
good.”
“Lord Ancestor, I…” But the ghoul
was the ghoul again.
“Pardon, my lord, but I have only
recently entered into this power of mine. My control over it is
growing but still imperfect.”
“You admit your weakness to
me?”
“If I had no weakness, I would not
beg for your aid. I was made to go where the River cannot go, Lord,
and where the power of his true children thus cannot go. I cannot
bear his strength as you can, cannot become
him as Hezhi can; he has given me the strength to find my power as
I go along, that is all. But to go where Hezhi is, I need help.
Your help.”
“If this is all true …” He
grimaced. “I must speak to Nyas.”
The ghoul shook his head. “My lord,
the Ahw'en and the Jik seek for me everywhere now. I have killed
many of them and invaded their temple. I have their secrets and I
have stolen one of your ancestors back from them. I have seen the
Chakunge of our most sacred legends on a leash like a dog. I have
power, but the priesthood can kill me. If you do not ally yourself
with me, help me, all will be lost. All And
it must be now, quickly—this
night.”
“Why did you not approach me
sooner?”
“I did not know. We are taught that
the emperor and the priesthood are warp and weft in the same cloth.
Only as a ghoul have I found the truth.”
She'lu drew a deep breath. This was
very sudden, but if it were true, if Hezhi still lived, if she
could bring back the real power and glory of the throne… if even an
emperor must eventually suffer a fate like that of the Blessed, a
fate he believed he had escaped…
“What do you want of
me?”
The ghoul knelt again. “A fast
ship, to sail up-River. Horsemen and swordsmen, as many as you can
spare. But most, most of all, I need the librarian from the
archives.”
“Ghan? The old man?”
“He knows where Hezhi is. I know he does.”
“How do you know
this?”
“I just feel it, Lord. They were
very close, he and your daughter. He helped her escape, though none
knew that but me. He knows where she has gone.”
“You may have him, then. And the
ship, thirty mounted men, fifty foot. Will this
suffice?”
“That will suffice,” the ghoul
answered, and She'lu could hear the surge of victory in the
voice.
“But tell me,” She'lu asked. “Why
drag this old man out into the desert? We can torture the
information from him, or merely snatch it from his
brain.”
The ghoul smiled thinly. “I
considered that. In fact, I could swallow his soul and keep it with
me, open his memories like a book. Three things stop me: first, I
believe he may be canny enough to prevent it somehow; you would
almost certainly never torture him, for he would kill himself in
some clever way rather than be the instrument of Hezhi's capture.
The second is that I believe he will be wiser alive. Those Ï bind
to me lose much of their essence, their ability to think. They are,
really, just parts of me. This Ghan is worth ten counselors if he
is on your side.”
“Three reasons?”
“Hezhi loves him and hates me. If
Ghan is with me, she will trust us.”
“But you say the librarian helped
her escape. You were a Jik at the time. Why should he trust
you?”
“He never knew my identity. Still,
he will be suspicious, and so a series of lies must be told
him…”
She Tu scrunched forward,
forgetting for the moment that he was an emperor and this man a
ghoul. Something was happening, something that might make his reign
a memorable one. He could not launch an assault on the Water
Temple; such had been tried in the past and only resulted in the
worst sort of bloodshed. But if this creature was right, he could
free not only the River but himself. Of course, he would make some
provision for his own interests; he could not trust this stranger—all the more reason to surround
him with eighty of his handpicked men. That would be a thousand
times better than having him skulking about the palace. Could he
keep the priesthood from finding out? Maybe.
But in the palace, at least in his
own section of it, the emperor was supreme.
Yes. A barge could be spared, and
men. These were cheap; and if the expedition failed, he would be no
worse off than before. But if it succeeded…
He was aware that the promise of
majesty he felt was only partly his own, that most of it surged
into him from the River. The god had never, in his memory, been
this strong or wakeful. Some of his ancestors might have been glad
of that, happier to rule without the intervention of the divine,
but She'lu did not share their sentiments. He would see Nhol strong
again. Perhaps, if all went well, he would see the priesthood
spitted on stakes for his pleasure. He smiled then at the
ghoul.
“Come with me. Tell me what else
you require.”