Chapter 8 The Valley of the Past
The Seelkir pin Rom, Forest of Darkness; called by humans the Hule Skoteine or Forest Obscure. Athlaz had lived in this forest all his life, but had learned the ways of only a small part of it. The few humans lived in an irregular line of iron houses on the Vulture’s southern border, while south of them stretched untold wilderness until one came to the legendary palaces of the Lusettas, palaces Athlaz had never seen. No one from little Ursala had ever seen even the northernmost and newest palace, called the Palace of Reflections, that which was presently home to the Council of the Forest Obscure.
Athlaz had accompanied the Empress Simone as part of her honor guard; first four days on the Kalos, and then two days of rough portaging to the Lusettan River that flows to the southern gulf. Though the portaging had been mostly downhill, everyone had been tired out from dragging boats. Now they were on water again, and at last travelling with the current. With the Palace of Reflections just one day’s travel away, Athlaz was surprised at how few signs of life they passed. This valley seemed as vast and empty as was nearly all of Skoteine. Yet now and again they passed the ruins of some great stone house or fortress. These, Mald said, had been the dwelling places of humans in the ancient days before the Sarrs had reclaimed the Forest for themselves.
The small boats glided along close together in the evening, and for once his boat was near Simone’s, so close that he had exchanged a friendly word with her and was now watching as Abram gave the girl another lesson on the nevel. Hoping he was not too conspicuous about it, Athlaz used his oars to match speed with the other boat.
“You have it,” said Abram. “That’s the major chord. Curl your little finger a bit more and it will be easier.”
Simone strummed it again. “I think I could do our song now,” she said.
“Your song, Empress—and yes, you could.”
“Hardly mine, when you provided the tune and half the words.”
“Only a few words.”
Rather than argue, Simone began to play, and both sang.
In the village of Ruin, by the riverside,
Where the Loopers dance and the rowboats glide
And the yokels bark and the puppies play,
I lived for a year—or was it a day?
And I dozed in the sun on a rocking boat
Where the petals fall and the lilies float,
And I caught three fish, and I learned a song.
I could live in Ruin my whole life long.
All the folk play ball when there’s work to do,
And tomorrow and the next day too,
And whatever happens pleases me
In Ruin by the river, glad and free.
‘Don’t go to Ruin!’ my mother said,
And likewise said my gray haired Dad.
‘Make something of yourself,’ they say;
But I would rather waste away
In Ruin where snapping puppies play
Year after year, day after day,
And Loopers dance and rowboats glide
In the village of Ruin, by the riverside.
The people on the other boats applauded.
“Excellent playing,” Abram said.
“You know I messed up three times.”
Mald left his place in the upward curved prow and approached them. “I didn’t hear any mistakes. You’re coming along quickly, Simone. The Loopers will love it.”
“I only wish they’d catch up,” she said.
“Well, don’t look behind you. I was referring to the Loopers already at the Palace. There are a few of them there. But if the Bibaseel village Loopers catch up to us even during our days at the Palace, I’ll be surprised.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing disparaging, Simone. Only that Loopers are—well, shall we say unreflective? They require some non-Looper leader to bring out the best in them. Left to themselves, I’m afraid they soon get sidetracked—always with the best of motives, of course.”
Simone considered this. “I don’t care, I love them anyway.”
“So do I. And they may catch up, you never know. Now if Abram has finished your music lesson, perhaps it’s time we reviewed our plans for the Council.”
Simone handed Abram the nevel. “I know it all by now, Mald. I should follow the lead of the Misar Razaber, Razabera’s brother; and I should show equal regard for all the species. And don’t trust either Dramun of the Dragons or Grall the Ulrig because they’re Lazarites. Lazarite means they want to conquer the humans.”
“And how,” asked Mald, “shall we achieve a vote in favor of your seeking the Eschorian crown?”
“By careful diplomacy,” Simone recited, “with promises of lasting peace with honor. I’m to be an impartial arbiter among all the species, so the humans will no longer be allowed to treat any Sarr like a dumb animal. Everyone will be respected. We make them see that it’s to the Sarrs’ advantage if they—if they promote my claim.”
“You seem distracted, Simone.”
“It’s just that I don’t want to be going there in the first place. I just want to find Clay and go home to Viola. Besides that, you’ve got me making political promises, and who knows whether I can keep them?”
“You must seem sure of yourself,” said Mald, “or they won’t want to follow you.”
“But if I’m really not sure to do those things, then isn’t that lying? Razabera would not have wanted me to lie.”
“Excuse me,” said Abram, who had been following this with a sinking countenance.
“Well, what is it?” said Mald irritably.
Abram giggled nervously. “Only that perhaps something more needs to be said about how to persuade the Sarrs. Simone’s ancestress, the Princess Lila, was constantly facing terrible odds as she strove to protect Eschor. If it wasn’t the Blue Ulrigs and their terrible burning machines, it was scores of invisible witches. No amount of forethought or wise counsel would have been enough to see her through.”
“I suppose that’s a hit on me,” said Mald, “but never mind. Perhaps we need our faith stretched. And what better place than the Valley of the Past to discuss old stories? Go ahead.”
“I hardly know what to say,” said Abram. “Lila was so young, and seemingly doomed to be overwhelmed. She prevailed apparently because in the end she wouldn’t stoop to the slightest lie or deception or selfishness. She sacrificed her own interests completely. Everyone knew that, and it gave her an influence greater than that of Howdan.”
“Who was Howdan?” Simone asked.
“One might ask who he is,” Mald said, “for it’s reported that he still exists, something of him anyway, in the Black Hall at Purgos far to the north.”
“Once he was an ordinary man, a citizen of one of the Silent Cities,” Abram said. “But he became first a master warlock and then an ‘immortal,’ as some call them. His immortality was nothing but horror and agony to him. Due to his foul spells, he could not die; but those very spells turned him slowly into a burnt, calcified, crumbling statue, at last unable to move or speak. They say there are many such crumblies in the Black Hall. At any rate, Howdan used to be Fowroz’s highest minion at the time of Lila. He was already nearly a thousand years old and was secretly the ruler of whole nations, nations stronger than Lila’s Eschor. Now here’s the whole point.”
“I was hoping for a point,” said Mald.
Abram gave the Fijat an apologetic smile. “The point is that Lila defeated Howdan, but not by arms or by policy.”
“How did she do it?” Simone asked. “I want details.”
“It would take Abram all night to tell half of Lila’s story,” said Mald.
“Just tell me something. Tell part of it.”
“With your permission, Misar?” Abram murmured to Mald. “I may? Very well.”
At the boat’s prow, Snart lit a lamp, making Simone aware that dusk was near. As the darkness came on, the little fle
et of boats seemed both more isolated and more homey. Abram began his story.
“Otohair was King of Bourasnia, and he brought all his great army down to the north bank of the Eschor River, virtually besieging the entire nation of Eschor. Then he threatened Lila’s father King Peter with destruction of all the land unless Lila was given at once to wed Otohair’s son Haz. This was all due to Otohair’s pride, you see, because Lila was truly engaged to Haz and loved him. But because Eschorian custom forbade her to marry till she was twenty, and because in that year of 2153 A.U.C. she was only seventeen, her father kept her in Eschor. Otohair accused Lila’s father of breaking faith by keeping her, and so he had come to take her by force. That was the War of the Bridges, when the people of Eschor fought desperately to hold the southern bank.
“Now Howdan had calculated all this in order to bring Lila into his grasp. She was the only heir, you know, of Peter, and all the prophecies pointed to her as the Sisskame who would return to the Old World, fulfilling all the will of Thoz. So Howdan sought to kill her. He knew that she would try to reach Haz in order to stop the war, and he knew that Haz’s troop was stationed behind Blackkiln Bridge; so he sent a small band of invisible witches down the river to intercept her there.
“When Lila came to the bridge, the Eschorian peasants were about to burn it. She ordered them back and began to cross it at dusk, all alone except for her friend the Fijat Eleutheria.”
“A Fijat? She had a Fijat friend?” Simone asked.
“How do you think we know all this?” said Mald. “You humans make poor historians. The Misara Elly wrote a book about it later.”
“Well, what happened? What about the invisible witches?”
“They captured her, of course,” said Abram, “and brought her before their leader, the crumbly Monophthalmos, lieutenant to Howdan. This slip of a girl was dragged into the bridge tower and made to endure interrogation by a burnt black horror. He learned from her what even Howdan had not suspected, that her engagement to Haz was sincere. That meant that, if allowed to live, she would be coming to Bourasnia within three years. Old Mo coldly calculated that it would be better to wait and kill her then. Her present martyrdom would only serve as a rallying point for Christians. But in Bourasnia she could be quietly done away with and never inspire anybody.
“So Monophthalmos thought, because Thoz sent him a great delusion. Old Mo let Lila go for the time being. She crossed over to Haz and publicly declared it her free decision to delay the marriage, and not something forced on her by her father. Otohair’s generals were glad for an excuse to start on the long road home, so that ended the war.”
The story seemed over, but Simone was vaguely dissatisfied. “Sounds like foolhardy luck,” she said. “I mean what exactly did Lila do besides walk into a trap?”
Abram lifted his hands in a gesture of vexed resignation. “She pitied the people,” he said. “In two weeks we’ll observe the five hundred and ninety fourth anniversary of Lila’s Crossing. The Fold will never forget.”
This gave Simone plenty to think about, especially the coincidence that Raspberry had instructed her, too, to pity the people. After some time she asked, “So what am I supposed to do?”
“We have a saying in Ursala,” Abram answered. “‘The best arrow is broken.’ Everyone means it to be a bit of cynicism, but it could be taken another way; that is, that if you wish to live the best life possible, expect to be broken in doing so.”
Simone blinked at this. “Is that what happened to Lila? I mean, I know she went to England at last, but what about the plot to kill her in Bourasnia?”
“Too long to tell,” interrupted Mald. “Abram can’t talk all night.”
“Well, what about Monophthalmos, then?”
“That’s more to the point,” said the Fijat. “Old One Eye took Howdan’s place and is now your greatest enemy. You can be sure that he has heard rumors about your arrival in the Fold, or will soon. He’d like nothing better than to exterminate the heirs of Lila, especially since prophecies cling to you as they did to her.”
“Did this Monophthalmos send Ven Magus and Icky to kill us at Cemetery House?” Simone asked, astonished.
“Yes, you can be sure he was behind that, he and the Smoke Hag and the lot of them.”
“The same man who talked to Lila face to face?”
“The very same—though he could hardly be called a man even then,” said Mald. “A crumbly is a sort of ruin in the shape of a person, with three quarters of his soul already burning in Gennez.”
“Don’t be afraid, Simone,” said Abram. “Thoz will judge him and protect you. Just be sure that your arrow is on target. And remember that Monophthalmos fears you and your brother more than anyone.”
Simone nodded thoughtfully.
“Has this been at all productive?” questioned Mald. “I haven’t quite lost the thread of the conversation, if you have, Abram. We originally were discussing the difficulty of persuading the Council to let Simone seek the crown in Eschor. So what’s your moral? Shall she tell them the plain truth that she lacks confidence?”
Abram smiled meekly and said nothing.
“Oh, tell them the truth then,” Mald said waspishly, “but it’s mighty inconvenient to be reminded of the pure way when the slightly slanted way is so easy and so close at hand.”
“And so practical,” Abram nodded agreeably.
Mald thought for a moment. “Simone, why don’t you simply say as little as possible at the Council and let Lord Razaber and me do the talking?”
To this Simone readily agreed.
The boat was still moving, Snag at the tiller, when Simone at last lay down on the rich bedding spread for her. She lay awake thinking about the horrible One Eye. Her ancestress had faced him and won, but that apparently had something to do with Lila’s having been a Christian. Simone did not even know how to become one, and if she did, then what about Ulrumman—Ulrumman who calmed and assured her in an alien world? Of course, Ulrumman might be the same as the Christians’ Thoz.... She would have to find out. Feeling a bit guilty about it, she nevertheless prayed sleepily to her Unknown God, asking for peace and strength. The last thing she remembered seeing was Athlaz’s dark form seated at his oars and not far off.
The next morning they began to spot Lusettas in the air and perched in trees at a distance. Presently, some flew down and visited on the boats, and one of these was the messenger Misu, whom Simone had met at Ursala.
“Greetings, Empress,” said Misu, striding forward on the narrow deck. “You are now only a few hours from our Palace. We welcome you to the Southern Forest. Is there anything we can do to honor you?”
“Only tell me if the Loopers from Bibaseel are following.”
“Yes, indeed! That is, they were when I last saw them and reminded them of where they were going—and uh, pointed out the right direction.”
“Try to have someone check on the dears,” Simone asked.
Mald wanted a report on the political situation at the Palace.
“Not good for us Snillites, I’m afraid,” said Misu. “Even my King Lugel is now convinced by the Dragons that Simone should not be sent to Eschor.”
“Well, what’s the vote then?”
“Perhaps four species to one, against,” said Misu. “Only the Fijats are solidly behind Misar Razaber.”
Mald made a slight, discomfitted sound.
“Nevertheless,” added Misu, “everyone is much excited. King Korazagel of the Loopers constantly changes his mind about how he’ll vote, and I think Lugel could still be regained.”
“Well, go back and persuade Lugel,” said Mald. “I’ll work on old Korazagel when I get there.”
As Misu departed on wing, Mald said to Simone, “This honorable Misu is in a difficult situation. She’s a servant of her King Lugel who is one of those inclined against allowing you any freedom of movement. Yet she herself is devoted to you and privately
follows the wisdom of Razaber. I don’t see how she can continue in her present role, unless Lugel is won over.”
Simone turned somberly to Mald’s invisible presence. “I’ve been thinking about what we discussed last night, and I don’t see how I can help Misu or anyone,” she said. “I can’t go in there and pretend to be the great Empress, telling them that I can wave my hand and stop wars. I’m no Lila. I want to go back. Let’s go back to Ruin village. Turn the boats around.”
“I do hope your Eminence merely suggests,” said Mald, “because we can hardly disobey your spoken command. Please remember that hundreds of thousands of lives are—”
“I’ve heard it before, Mald. But maybe if I interfere I’ll just make things worse. Besides, you heard Misu. The vote’s against me anyway. We’re obviously wasting our time. No, don’t argue with me. Turn the boats around!”
At once, Snag and Snart took up poles and began to turn Simone’s boat to face the current. People on the other boats slowed down and shouted questions. At this moment Snag, who was always alert, growled and pointed down the river. Flapping straight at them over the water came a lone Lusetta, and something silvery and long was clutched in its talons.
“It has a spear!” shouted Snag. “Protect the Empress!”
“No, no,” said Mald. “It will just be one of Lugel’s palace guard. Don’t harm him.”
Snag and Snart drew swords and crouched at the ready. The Lusetta held on toward Simone’s boat.
“Don’t kill it,” said Simone. “It can’t mean any harm.”
But when Snart’s sword swing missed, Snag actually leaped off the boat onto the smaller Sarr, barely avoiding its spear. Both landed in the river. Looking over the edge of the boat, Simone could see the contest continuing under water: the large, dark body of the Ulrig and the white of the Lusetta’s spread wings. In a few moments Snag surfaced with the Lusetta’s broken neck in his jaws and swam to the boat. Snart hauled the bloody thing onto the deck, and Snag followed.
“This is horrible!” cried Mald. “What will King Lugel say? You’ve murdered one of his guard.”
“Look at its eyes,” gasped Snag.
They looked and recoiled. The eyes were not the familiar midnight blue of a Lusetta but were black stained with red, so putrescent that they wondered how it had been able to see at all. Snag plucked a feather from its shoulder and held it up for all to see. It was black.
“What does this mean?” he asked.
Athlaz, who had brought his boat near, answered. “I’ve never seen a Lusetta with such marks, Snag, but I’ve seen things like this on the Vulture’s borders. This Lusetta has had the Vulture’s poison in it and has become his. They lose their own will and do whatever he pleases.”
His Uncle Demetrius nodded beside him. “The Vulture hears of everything eventually, and the rumor of the Empress has filled the Forest. Did you see how it flew straight for Simone?”
By this time other Lusettas had been attracted to the scene. Snag and Snart began to wave them away with their swords, but since these appeared to be unarmed and untainted, Simone overruled the Ulrigs. Two landed near the dead Lusetta and stared at it for a long time.
“It’s the Lord Lamu,” said one of them at last. “I once served in his household. We are very sorry, Empress Simone, but even in our Valley of the Past some are tempted and deluded by the Vulture’s servants. Lamu is not the first.”
“He was noble,” said the other. “Why did he fail in his spirit? And now, how will we Lusettas ever atone for this shame? Simone, forgive us!”
“You didn’t do it!” blurted Simone, who was shaken and not feeling particularly polite.
“No, Empress, but it happened in the very shadow of the Palace of Reflections. So now, what shall we do? A hundred of us shall fling ourselves into the Falls of Kabrem, and I first.”
Simone could not help laughing at this, but checked herself when she saw the Lusettas were confused and hurt. “I’m sorry, I must be hysterical,” she lied, “but I command that no Lusetta hurt itself.”
“But we must assuage our guilt,” it said. “At the Palace, King Lugel will commission a mural commemorating your bravery and our shame.”
“She’ll never see it,” snarled Snag. “We’re going back.”
“No we’re not,” said Simone with a shiver, “not with assassins dropping out of the sky. Get me under a roof and behind locked doors.”