Darksong Read online

  Watching him go, Glynn wondered if he was right in saying they would be able to find one another without map or directions. But what was the use of such a bond when succeeding in her quest to see the soulweaver would mean returning to her own world? This had been her main reason for withholding the truth about herself from Solen. The more intimacies, verbal and physical, they exchanged, the more painful their final parting.

  A delicate lemon scent arose from the feinna. Bayard had never mentioned scents, and Glynn wondered if feinna younglings used scents as human babies gurgled before they could use words; perhaps the scents faded when the feinna was mature enough to communicate using the vivid visual and sensory flashes combined with telepathically conveyed words. The youngling was, after all, bare hours old. The ache in Glynn’s chest at the knowledge that she would not see Solen again eased fractionally as she stroked the tiny animal’s silky head.

  The most remarkable result of the link between her and the little creature was that in addition to other things, it gave her access to what could only be genetically coded information. By this means, she understood that although she could not be physically separated from the youngling by a very great distance without both of them suffering, the distance constraint would gradually ease, allowing them to be further and further apart, until the youngling matured.

  The same source gave her to understand, in some detail, how her bond with the He differed from the mutilating mating link that its mother had forged with Bayard. Glynn had not been mutilated because of what the She had learned from its painful bonding with Bayard. When it changed Glynn to enable her to birth link with its youngling, it had done so only by enhancing certain important latent tendencies that it had sensed in her the first time they encountered one another. There were side effects but they were entirely benevolent. Her sight and hearing had improved, as had her sense of smell. But more important to Glynn than any enhancement of physical or mental abilities had been the discovery that the link with the feinna filled the terrible emptiness which had lain at the core of her being for as long as she could recall.

  One of the scrolls in Bayard’s collection claimed that the Song of Making had been fading when it created humans, and so there had been an emptiness left in them, a gap which must be filled. Glynn was not Songborn, but if the purpose of life was to find a way to fill that emptiness and attain completeness, then she had come very close. It seemed to her that the arrow of her spirit had found its place in this world; found it in the link with the He-feinna, and in what she felt for the Acanthan windwalker, Solen. For he was part of it. That much was clear and this would not change even if they never saw one another again.

  This last thought, though a kind of grief, brought peace to her heart. She would never see either Solen or the feinna again after she returned to her own world, but they would be inside her mind and heart forever. Perhaps that would be enough to hold the emptiness at bay.

  I have changed in ways I have not begun to fathom, Glynn thought.

  She seemed to see Solen leaning over the edge of the ship to drop the bodies of the She-feinna and its dead younglings into the sea. His eyes had been sombre above the flapping ends of his surcoat. They could have carried the little creatures to land to bury, but Bayard had died in the sea and no matter how perverse the relationship between the pair, it was fitting that the She should follow Bayard into the waves, and that its babes should follow their mother.

  Glynn was saddened by the memory. But at the same time, the new part of herself – what she thought of as the feinna part – made her understand that sadness was only appropriate as an initial response to death. Ultimately, death was a natural part of life, even violent death. And there had been release in the She-feinna’s death, from the horrifyingly unnatural link with Bayard. It must have felt to the She as deeply wrong as a human waking from an operation to find their lower half had been transformed into that of an ape.

  Feinna mated only once in their lives, and at that moment all the younglings they would ever bear were both fertilised and their development arrested until the She-feinna chose to bring them to term. Rather like a kangaroo female which could hold a fertilised egg in stasis until there was enough food to nourish the joey. Bayard had not known from her researches why the feinna had elected to bring its last litter to term knowing its unnatural human ‘mate’ could not perform the all important birthing link, but Glynn’s new feinna senses told her that there was an urgent instinctive imperative for a She-feinna to fulfill its fertilised potential before dying and that feinna somehow sensed when they were going to die.

  Glynn’s mind returned to that incredible moment of bonding. Only after it had been done had the She allowed its soul-spar to follow Bayard’s into death. Glynn and Solen had been left surrounded by blood and feinna bodies. They had cleaned away the blood and wrapped the surviving youngling in a blanket, working in silent accord and overwhelmed wonder. Solen had spoken to Colwyn, who had not until that moment known of Bayard’s death, and then he had returned to carry the dead, and Glynn the living, onto the deck where they had quietly dropped the feinna corpses to the waves.

  They had stood side by side for the remainder of the night, saying little. Only when day dawned did they surmount the wonder of the night, to talk of it. And in talking, they had encountered all of the gaping holes where things were left unsaid.

  ‘Where is Bayard?’

  Glynn’s heart gave a great dull thud of fright, but she calmed her expression before turning to face the Draaka Prime.

  ‘Well?’ demanded the most senior of the draakira. ‘She is not in her bed.’

  ‘I … There was a storm last night, Prime Wykka … Bayard was washed overboard,’ she stammered.

  The Prime’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you saying, girl?’

  ‘She … The storming …’

  ‘Are saying that Bayard is dead?’

  Glynn imagined that a flash of dismay crossed the woman’s haughty features, but that was impossible, for although both women had been equally senior in the Draaka’s hierarchy, there had been distinct ideological differences between them which made them rivals if not outright enemies. The face of the Prime was as cold as ever when she demanded to know what Bayard had been doing on deck in the middle of the night. ‘Did she not consume a sleep draught?’

  Glynn reminded herself that she had to seem mentally affected by Bayard’s death, and she made her words hesitant. ‘The She-feinna’s labour began, and woke her. She came on deck. She was not wearing an anchor rope …’

  ‘She dies and the animal lives? I thought both of them were supposed to die if one died.’

  ‘The She-feinna did die. This is one of its babies. We … I managed to save one.’

  ‘And what of you? You were also linked to the animal and to Bayard, were you not? How is it that you did not die?’

  ‘The link was not as strong …’

  ‘You seem to understand a good deal about these links,’ the Prime said.

  ‘Bayard talked a lot about them. I think she was really talking to herself more than me, but I heard …’ Glynn added ingenuously. She made herself look anxious.

  ‘You must feel pleased, since their deaths free you to escape the delegation,’ the Prime said with a cold smile.

  ‘But … I do not want to escape,’ Glynn cried. ‘I have never been to Ramidan. I do not want to be alone there!’

  Fleetingly, the Prime looked genuinely baffled. ‘I thought you wished to be free to find your sister?’

  Glynn thought fast. ‘I did but … maybe the vision that showed her to me was a lie, as Bayard said. Let me speak to the Draaka!’ She let her voice stagger up into a jagged peak of panic, deciding that the Prime would not want an hysterical scene.

  ‘Silence,’ the older woman snapped. Several of the shipfolk were now gazing at them curiously. ‘I do not know why you would desire to remain with those who held you prisoner and drugged you, but if you plan to invoke Dar against us you will surely regret it.’ />
  Glynn again babbled loudly that she only wanted to serve. The Prime stepped back and the momentary fierceness left her face and body. ‘Very well. You will accompany us to the palace at least, then we will see what the Draaka wishes to do with you.’ This sounded sinister, but Glynn cared for nothing except to ensure that she entered the palace. Once inside she would slip away at the first opportunity and seek out the soulweaver Alene.

  The ship swung around sharply enough that Glynn and the Prime staggered and there was a sudden increase in the activity of the crew around the navigation platform which could only mean that the ship had been given permission to dock.

  ‘Gather your own and Bayard’s belongings and come back on deck,’ the Prime instructed absently, her attention now on the shipmaster who was mounting his platform.

  Glynn bobbed her head meekly and went down the steps to the cramped cabin that she had shared with Bayard and the She-feinna, praying that the Draaka would not veto the Prime’s agreement that she could come to the palace, once they all got to shore. Setting the little He gently on the bed, she packed Bayard’s few personal effects into a cloth bag, thinking how meagre they were to mark the life of a human being, but Glynn supposed monks in her own world had scant material possessions, and yet would count themselves rich. Certainly Bayard had been largely contented with her life at the haven.

  Collecting the scattered scrolls that the draakira had been studying before sleeping, Glynn remembered that she had wanted to search through them for references to Lanalor’s portal, in the hope of learning how she could use it to return to her own world. But there had been no opportunity for reading. She shrugged. If she could just get to Alene soulweaver, there would be no need for any research.

  Glynn staggered again as the ship turned sharply to come up against the pier, but the sleeping feinna did not stir, not even when she scooped it up awkwardly in her free arm, bundled it under her cloak and made her way up onto the deck.

  4

  Lanalor told Shenavyre that the Unykorn had perished,

  And at last, her eyes saw him, but they were filled with horror.

  Shenavyre cried: ‘Then is all beauty and brightness dead.’

  She drew a knife from her belt and drove it into her heart.

  LEGENDSONG OF THE UNYKORN

  The draakan entourage was barely assembled on the long stone jetty when a flurry of green-sandalled men and women clad in white tunics and loose trousers, converged on them. Bowing obsequiously, a servitor with lavish green trim on the hem of his tunic introduced himself as a senior servitor of the house of the great Iridomi chieftain, Coralyn, and her illustrious son, Kalide. He had brought servitors to collect the baggage and to escort the Draaka and her delegation to a carriage that awaited them at the end of the pier. The Prime nodded and the hovering servitors swooped on bags and woven trunks and bore them away. Glynn gladly relinquished the bags, but the feinna lay within her bundled cloak and she pretended not to notice when a servitor reached for it. She was uneasily aware that the Prime noted her reluctance but she could not allow the feinna to be taken from her.

  The Draaka was in no condition to notice anything. Wrapped up in the same thick red hooded cloak she had worn when leaving Acantha, her face hidden behind an opaque veil, she was led from her cabin across the deck and down the gangplank by one of the few male senior draakira; a cold obese man called Mingus. Obviously the Draaka was still deeply in the thrall of whatever drugs she had taken to endure the crossing from Fomhika but, other than pasty complexions and red-veined eyes, the other draakira appeared and behaved as they usually did. They must have taken less of the sleep drug than their mistress, though still they looked wretchedly ill. Glynn thought, not for the first time, that the Keltan cure for seasickness was surely worse than that which it sought to alleviate.

  It was little surprise that the draakira used sleep drugs. They were in the habit of using drugs not just to endure sea journeys or keep their shanghaied servitor-slaves docile, but also to enhance their sensibilities during the numerous rites conducted within the haven. Haven life revolved around drugs and Bayard had been one of the few senior draakira to openly deplore the habit of casual drug-taking; not for moral reasons, but because it got in the way of clear rational research, and because the drug that kept slave-servitors docile eventually disabled them. Bayard had taken drugs only when the Draaka had wanted to use her as a conduit to the Chaos spirit. Perhaps it was because she so seldom took drugs that she had been so very susceptible as a channeller.

  Of all the draakan entourage aboard the ship, Prime Wykka seemed least afflicted by whatever potions she had taken to endure the crossing. Perhaps she had taken even less than the others, in order to watch over her mistress. But it might be that she had eschewed drugs altogether. Noting the Prime’s upright posture and dark glare, Glynn thought that this was not a woman who would willingly relinquish control of her senses.

  The Prime turned unexpectedly and looked directly into Glynn’s eyes. There was no possibility that the woman could read her thoughts, but Glynn wondered how long the Prime had been awake before coming up on deck. What if she had seen Glynn with Solen? It was definitely possible, though she would not have recognised him given his physical changes and the fact that he had been wrapped in a hooded cloak. Glynn decided that she had better be prepared for questions. She would say one of the other passengers had been drunk and had followed her about talking gibberish. She knew from minescrape gossip that those who could not afford sleep drugs used cirul to dull their sensibilities during island crossings.

  The Prime turned away to speak with Mingus and a thin, spinsterish-looking draakira called Leta. The senior Iridomi servitors gestured that they should make their way to a large ornate carriage standing by the road at the end of the pier. Even at such a distance, it was possible to see that the harnessing of the llama-like beasts drawing the carriage was encrusted with flashing stones.

  Glynn followed the others, but almost at once she found herself caught up in the midst of some sort of argument. She had to push her way clear of a circle of angry-looking men and gesticulating women, hampered both by the feinna and her own fear of attracting attention. She had fallen behind the draakan delegation and it was the perfect moment, if she had wanted, to slip away. She reminded herself sternly that remaining with the draakan delegation was her best hope of getting home to Ember quickly and hurried to catch up to the rear draakira. She was belatedly struck with how bright everything seemed. Probably it was just the contrast with the grey monotones of shipboard life, but she felt almost dazed as she wove her way through the press of Vespians loading and unloading cargo, disembarking passengers and men and women of all septs trying to buy or at least take possession of cargo. Clearly the port facilities were being strained by the docking of so many ships at once.

  She saw a squatting man beating one of the flat Keltan drums with a small double-headed hammer, in time to the melodic chants of a dark-haired girl wearing flowers in her hair and dancing. The man winked at Glynn lasciviously and made a comical face of woe when his pretty companion gave him a sharp clout on the ear. A flurry of small urchins darted through the crowd of watchers shrieking with laughter and Glynn’s heart rose at the sound of it. Some of the intensity of the night lifted and she reflected that some kinds of joy were so profound that they were as heavy to carry as sorrow.

  Glynn began to walk, but not too quickly. She wanted to observe the reaction of locals to the unmistakable red sun emblem of the Draaka cult worn by the delegates. Fortunately, none of the clothes that she had been given were stamped in such a way. At first she had the impression that no one was reacting to the insignia but, as she studied the curiously immobile face of one man, his anger and disgust suddenly flowed into her mind.

  Shock at the alien flow of emotions made her gasp aloud, but the sound was absorbed by the general racket. She lost sight of the man almost at once, but she turned her gaze swiftly to a nearby woman chattering to a plump man, wanting to see if
the same thing happened. To her dismay, the woman immediately whirled on her. Glynn had the wit not to turn her face away guiltily, but only to shift her gaze fractionally, and the woman stared at her in momentary puzzlement. Glynn realised that she was shaking from shock because, not only did she seem to be able to read people’s emotions, they could feel the touch of her mind! She staggered slightly and only then discovered that whatever she had done with her mind had taken a physical toll. But she could not resist trying it once more.

  This time, she chose someone walking in the same direction; a woman carrying a laden basket of tiny linen-wrapped packages. She felt nothing initially, then again she had the sensation of her mind opening and the other woman’s emotions flooded her senses. Behind a vacuous smile, the young woman was bitter and angry and also very worried about something. Glynn tried fruitlessly to learn the source of the woman’s feelings, but her new ability seemed to only allow her to idenfity emotions. This time, when her control dissolved, she felt completely drained, and realised that she had better not try any more experiments until she was able to rest afterwards.

  Forcing herself to walk on, she wondered at the veneer of gaiety in the port covering darker emotions. That made her think of something Solen had said of Ramidan. ‘This is an island where mask-making and mask-wearing have reached a level of popularity that rivals even Iridom. Masks are sometimes worn over masks, and where a true face can be made to seem untrue …’

  Glynn wondered if Solen had also developed the ability to receive emotions. Certainly he had all but read her mind, but that seemed more like telepathy than what she was experiencing, and was probably confined to the three of them: the feinna, Solen and herself.