The ring of five dragons, p.7
The Ring of Five Dragons, page 7
part #1 of The Pearl Series
“It is instinctive, regent. Every time the Gyrgon speak my blood freezes.”
“I always said you had good instincts, Kinnnus.” With that, the regent Eleusis swept through the arched portals of the former Abbey of Listening Bone.
The V’ornn Temple of Mnemonics sat atop the only hill within the precincts of the city. It was in the Western Quarter. Up until the coming of the V’ornn it had been an area housing the most influential Kundalan families. Strangely, however, the V’ornn found these houses no larger than those in other parts of the city. This perfect symmetry went against V’ornn notions of hierarchy and status. After the Kundalan were killed or displaced, the most wealthy of the Bashkir moved in, enlarging and renovating the houses as befit their status in V’ornn society.
This essential change in the fascinating, alien structure of the city did not please Eleusis, for he had come to see the Kundalan in an altogether different light than did his fellow V’ornn. But then in so many ways he seemed not to fit into the rather monolithic V’ornn mold. It was a constant source of wonder to him that the Gyrgon had chosen him to be regent. Stogggul would have been the obvious, the expected choice. But then, he reminded himself, the Gyrgon rarely did the expected. Not that he, Eleusis Ashera, was ill suited to be regent. Quite the opposite, in fact. But that the Gyrgon tolerated—even at times condoned—his unconventional ideas was a mystery he doubted he would ever solve.
As soon as he stepped through the gates, he was inside the Portal. A misty greyness, luminous as the shell of a sea-snail, engulfed him. He had been here often enough that he knew what to do. Even so, a part of his mind still quailed, wanted to run screaming back out into the last of the sunshine, where Kinnnus Morcha was patiently waiting. Eleusis forced his legs to move, walking forward, looking neither to the left nor to the right. A great moaning arose, as of a violent tempest, gaining in volume. Still, he moved forward, not only because it was his duty as regent but also because he knew it was a test. The Portal never looked or felt the same as it had on previous visits. Each time he was Summoned, there was a different sort of fright awaiting him. The Gyrgon enjoy observing you, he told himself. The Gyrgon distill my fears, brew them up like vintage numaaadis. It is some form of twisted game they enjoy playing, perhaps to engrave their superiority upon me, so that I will never forget my place, never overstep the boundaries they have set up.
Darkness, and an intense sense of vertigo. Eleusis was deathly afraid of falling. As a child of four, he had fallen from a window ledge while his mother had been painting. His father had been so furious that he had banished her from every hingatta on the planet. Eleusis had never seen her again; he had been raised by his father’s lover, a Tuskugggun who had kept him on a short tether and never let him climb upon a windowsill.
Wind howled and when he made the mistake of looking down, he saw the floor far below him. At once, he broke out into a cold sweat. It is only a dream, he told himself sternly. Only a vision from your own nightmare. But he could not stop sweating. His hearts hammered in his chest, he felt the urge to spit, and his pulse rate was erratic. He paused on his path, took three deep breaths. The urge to turn and run was a terrible weight upon him. I am that I am, he said silently. I am on Kundala, in the Western District of Axis Tyr, in the Portal of the Temple of Mnemonics. The Gyrgon may have control of my senses but they do not have control of my mind.
He wiped his wet palms down his trousers and moved on. His mind screamed in protest, certain that he was going to fall to the floor below. He walked stiffly, carefully, deviating neither to the left nor to the right. And with each step, his fears lessened. He did not fall. Thank Enlil, he did not fall!
Stars came out, and a cold blue moon the size of Kundala’s spotted sun appeared high in the sky. Eleusis, traversing quartz-flecked sand dunes, recognized that moon. It was the moon hanging in the night sky of Corpius Segundus. Ahead of him loomed the gargantuan sloping gates to the underworlds.
Enter, a voice commanded in his skull. At least, it seemed to be in his skull even though he knew that it actually emanated from his okum-mmon. The time of Summoning is at hand.
If this were, indeed, Corpius Segundus he knew what would be waiting for him. There was a scar on his left shoulder—a deep, livid indentation scooped out of his flesh. The underworlds were habited by thirteen species of raptor—at least, that was the number the V’ornn had cataloged—each more deadly than the previous one. It had been no mean feat to bring back a thorn-gem, and he had paid the price. The eight-legged razor-raptor had taken its pound of flesh even through his battle armor.
The sloping Portal blotted out the stars, then the moon. A remembered stink assaulted his nostrils, making his stomachs grind and heave. It was an evil place, the underworlds.
“Why did the V’ornn come here, regent?”
He stopped, peered through the dim light, ruddy with the fine, choking dust of the caverns.
“What was your purpose?”
An ill-defined shape loomed before him.
“You could not defeat the denizens of these underworlds; the thorn-gems herein were of no practical use to you.”
An evil-smelling razor-raptor lounged against an outcropping of rock. It leered at him with a smile bristling with triangular teeth made expressly for ripping and tearing flesh from bone.
“And yet you came. Why was that, Ashera Eleusis?”
This was no Corpius Segundus razor-raptor, Eleusis knew. Indeed, it was no raptor of any kind. Only the Gyrgon used the ancient form of address that put the family name first. “Because it was there,” he said.
The creature before him repeated his answer, drawing out each word as if to savor its meaning. “Yes. Very good. I believe you are correct.” And immediately thereafter, the razor-raptor dissolved like smoke. In its place stood a Gyrgon.
“Summoned, I am come to you, to hear and to serve,” Eleusis said in the ritual greeting.
Instead of completing the ritual, the Gyrgon detached himself from the cavern wall. “Do you know me, regent?”
Eleusis peered through the artificially manufactured haze. “I believe you are Nith Sahor. I was before you at the previous Summoning.”
“That is correct.”
“I have never been Summoned by the same Gyrgon twice.”
“Do you know that for a fact, regent? We can change our shapes, you know.”
Eleusis licked his lips. “I had heard something to that effect.” Nith Sahor stood unnervingly still. He was perhaps a full meter taller than Eleusis. He was clad all in black, wrapped in a tasseled greatcoat. His eyes had pupils like star sapphires; they seemed to follow you without him having to turn his head. And what a head he had! His skull was the color of pale amber. From the edge of the occipital ridge to the base of his massive neck a visible latticework of tertium and germanium circuits was embedded in the skin. No one knew whether the Gyrgon were born this way or whether they came by it in some horrific postnatal operation.
“Tell me something, regent, do you serve the Gyrgon?”
“Yes, Nith Sahor. In everything, I serve their wants and needs.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you disbelieve me?”
“Yes, regent, I do. You have taken a Kundalan female to your bed. You allow her to worship this Goddess of theirs, to make her potions and her poultices, to whisper in your ear when darkness is absolute and the formal business of state is at an end.” Nith Sahor’s expression was entirely unreadable. “In addition, you conspire secretly with the Pack-Commander Rekkk Hacilar to keep the Kundalan resistance warned of our hunting parties.” He crossed his massive arms across his equally massive chest. “Do you deny any of this, regent?”
“Who speaks against me? Prime Factor Stogggul?”
“You will answer my question, regent!”
Nith Sahor did not raise his voice, did not move a muscle. Nevertheless, Eleusis jumped as the bite of hyperexcited electrons was transmitted through his okummmon into the nerves in his arm.
“I deny nothing,” he said calmly. This was yet another test; it must be. “What you say is truth.”
“And in these matters do you discern the will of the Gyrgon?”
“You have not stopped me from being with Giyan. Or from my friendships with Rekkk Hacilar and Hadinnn SaTrryn.”
“Again, I suggest that you answer my question.”
Eleusis made a point of not looking at his okummmon. He felt a certain tension in the backs of his legs and willed his body to relax. “It pleases me to be with her. It pleases her to do these things, and thus I am doubly pleased.”
“And as for the Pack-Commander?”
“Does the entire Comradeship know?”
“You would not be here; you would not be regent if it did.”
Eleusis let go a breath he had been holding. “Rekkk Hacilar, Hadinnn SaTrryn, and I are of a like mind when it comes to the Kundalan.”
“So, then, when you claim that in all things you serve our wants and needs you are a liar.”
“I am so only if you believe it, Nith Sahor.”
There was a long silence. The artificial wind howled through the caverns, the artificial stirrings of the artificial raptors echoed off the artificial stone walls. Nith Sahor raised his arms and the underworlds of Corpius Segundus vanished.
“I do not believe it, regent. That is why you are Summoned before me.”
Eleusis found that they were in a chamber of the Temple of Mnemonics. It was circular, high up. Through the delicately triple-arched window he could see dusk approaching, smell the familiar scents of Kundala. The walls indicated that this room had been a sanctuary, for each section of wall held a carving of one of the Five Sacred Dragons of Kundalan culture. Significantly, Nith Sahor had not covered them with V’ornn artwork. Just as significantly, the Gyrgon had kept all the original Kundalan furniture. The single V’ornn feature was a white oval cage within which sat a beautiful multicolored teyj, preening its fours wings one by one. As he moved, the bird paused in its fluffing to fix Eleusis in its golden eye.
“It is good to be back on Kundala,” Eleusis said.
“Curious,” Nith Sahor said. “I entertained the selfsame thought.” The Gyrgon raised a hand clad in an odd metallic mesh about which many terrible myths had formed. Eleusis tried not to look at the finely worked chain mail. “Be at ease, regent. You are my guest.”
Eleusis did not know whether he was more surprised to see Kundalan furniture here or by what Nith Sahor said. “Forgive me, I am at a bit of a loss. I have never been a guest of the Gyrgon before.”
“Perhaps it is simply that we never told you before.”
Eleusis looked up. “Is that a joke?”
“Do Gyrgon make jokes?”
“I have no idea,” Eleusis admitted.
As Eleusis observed the Gyrgon, he had the distinct impression that this Summoning was going to be unique. Before, they had consisted of giving a report on current affairs, being peppered with blunt, difficult questions, being given orders to carry out, and being summarily dismissed. Bantering with a Gyrgon was distinctly new to him.
As if to give added credence to this train of thought, Nith Sahor said: “Regent, I want you to tell me about desire.”
“Desire?”
“Precisely that.”
Eleusis was struggling hard to keep up with the strange twists and turns of this Summoning. “I am hardly qualified to tell a Gyrgon—“
“Oh, but you are, regent. Eminently qualified.” Nith Sahor fingered the wide cuff on his right wrist. “But perhaps you suspect me of being disingenuous.” He raised a mailed hand to forestall Eleusis’ response. “Did you know, regent, that the Gyrgon are neither male nor female?”
“Neither …” Eleusis felt as if his mouth was full of silicon.
“We are both.”
“I … I did not know, Nith Sahor.”
“Of course you didn’t. It is a secret we Gyrgon keep to ourselves. As such, desire is… alien to all of us—at least, to almost all of us. Occasionally—very rarely—there is an unexpected and unexplained genetic mutation.” Nith Sahor sat and waited for his quid pro quo. He had created a simple barter—something a Bashkir could sink his teeth into.
Eleusis was desperately trying to figure out whether the Gyrgon was telling the truth or simply prevaricating in order to get the regent to lower his guard. He realized, however, that there were many paths Nith Sahor could have taken to elicit the information he desired. The one he chose was doubtless the most astonishing. Why would a Gyrgon confess to anything so intimate? Why would a Gyrgon willingly let go of a secret? Secrets were in large part what gave the Gyrgon their mystique, their power over the other castes, great and lesser alike. Did Nith Sahor trust him that much? How was he to know?
“I assume by desire you mean my desire for Giyan.”
“In a way. I meant for the Kundalan, yes.”
Eleusis’ keen mind realized that the Gyrgon had left out the word female. At last, a clue. He chose a beautifully fluted Kundalan ammon-wood chair and sat down.
“Are you comfortable?” Nith Sahor sat in the matching chair.
“Quite comfortable.”
“As am I.”
And there you had it, Eleusis realized. The reason for this Summoning. For whatever reason, the Gyrgon wished to talk candidly about the Kundalan. “Sometimes,” he said, “I wish I wasn’t locked up tight in Axis Tyr.”
“Why is that?”
Eleusis gazed into the terrifying, enigmatic face and said to himself. To N’Luuura with it. “Too many V’ornn. Quite honestly, part of me longs to be in the Djenn Marre, to walk among the Kundalan, to learn their ways.”
“Their secrets,” Nith Sahor said. “We Gyrgon trade in secrets.”
“Isn’t that why we wander the reaches of interstellar space instead of finding a new homeworld, why we hunt down other races—so that you can absorb their secrets, in the hope that the secret to life may one day be revealed to you?”
“Your bitterness is showing like a mesh singlet on a Looorm, regent.” Nith Sahor sat forward, elbows on knees, laced his fingers. “Life and death—the eternal twins. We are bound to them. You know that, don’t you?”
Eleusis was forced to look away from those terrifying star-sapphire eyes. “Yes.” He nearly choked on the word.
“Then you know just how important our search for freedom is, to find our way out of the labyrinth that is the universe as we know it. You see, regent, we Gyrgon can feel that the universe is not all there is. It is not enough for us. We yearn to travel beyond… well, we do not yet know beyond what. But the barriers that keep us here in the known Cosmos must fall. Do you understand our pain of confinement?”
Eleusis was in control of himself again, and he swung his gaze back. “I think I do, Nith Sahor.”
“Then tell me that which I need to know.”
“I am not… I’m not certain that I have answers for you. At least, none that will make sense.”
“Please leave that determination to me. Speak of what is in your hearts.”
“All right.” Eleusis sat up straight. He had the feeling that he was on the edge of a precipice, and he fought off the knife edge of panic. “I have come to have a special feeling for the Kundalan. Undoubtedly, it stems in part from my relationship with Giyan, but as you yourself noted, that is not the end of it. Sixteen years ago, I brought her back as a trophy from a Khagggun hunting party I accompanied in the foothills of the Djenn Marre. She was nothing to me then, but quite quickly that changed.”
“How did it change?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do, regent. Think.”
“Well, I… I think what happened was that being in such close proximity to her I stopped thinking of her as the defeated enemy.”
“And how exactly did that come about?”
Eleusis thought a moment. “I remember. It was almost a sidereal year after I had brought Giyan back to Axis Tyr. I started awake in the middle of the night and went to slake my thirst. Down the hallway I saw her. She was standing by an open window. She was staring out at the Djenn Marre. I remember it was the night of full moons; the snow and ice on the mountains peaks shone as blue as Corpius Segundo’s moon. She was weeping, the tears sliding down her cheeks, and I thought, She misses her home, just as we miss our home. And from that moment, defeated alien or no, there was no difference between us.”
“But there is a difference.”
“Yes, Nith Sahor.”
“In fact, many differences.”
“This is truth.”
Light glinted off the metallic mesh as the Gyrgon rearranged his hands. “It may be anathema to say this, but that is no bad thing. I believe that it would benefit us greatly to acquaint ourselves with their differences.”
Eleusis stiffened. “She trusts me, Nith Sahor.”
“I trust you, Eleusis. That is why you were made regent.”
“You were responsible for making me regent?”
“Your father. Others wanted Wennn Stogggul’s father to assume the role.”
Eleusis thought about this for a moment. “I will not betray her.”
“We are your masters, regent. Do you think it wise to speak to a Gyrgon in this manner?”
“I am speaking to you, Nith Sahor.”
“I am Gyrgon.”
“I am speaking to you,” Eleusis repeated.
The Gyrgon nodded and light played off the latticework in his skull. “Your perception is noted with especial interest.”
“I believe, Nith Sahor, that there is a great deal we do not yet know about the Kundalan—that we never will know under the present situation. The establishment of Za Hara-at is the first step in a transformation I foresee.”
“Do not be presumptuous, regent. It is not for you to foresee transformation.”
“You do not understand, Nith Sahor. The creation of the city came to me in a dream—an astonishingly vivid dream that showed me precisely where Za Hara-at should rise, in the center of the Korrush. Subsequently, I traveled across the Korrush in the company of Hadinnn SaTrryn, who does business with the Korrush tribes, and much to my surprise we found a small, unprepossessing village in its center. The site is an ancient one, according to Kundalan lore, and when we began to dig we discovered foundations the tribesmen dated from many centuries ago.”
