Part 21 (1/2)

”Hunger?” the Mother called.

He tried to unravel the collar at that point, but he could not. It resisted him. So he pulled; he mustered all his strength, and when he thought he'd failed, the collar snapped.

Fire and stink billowed up around him and into the sky.

”What is that?” the Mother asked.

He could not resist her question. ”Fire,” he said. ”Fire, from the pretty collar about the sleth woman's neck.”

She pushed into his mind, and he feared she would discover his secret.

”This is the one?” asked the Mother.

”Yes.”

”She's weak.”

”The men beat her. They do not like ones that stink.”

”Fool,” she said. ”They wors.h.i.+p them.”

”Not this one,” said Hunger.

The Mother directed her attention to the collar, and Hunger held very still.

”A King's Collar,” she said.

”Yes,” said Hunger. ”I broke it.”

”You did indeed,” she said. And then she laughed.

Hunger ran through the woods like a dark wind, carrying the sleth woman to the Mother. He held her like he had held his bonny girl when she was only a pint. He ran through the dark, piney forest, keeping the branches from the sleth woman. And the movement of the trees and the feel of the woman in his arms brought forth the memories of his littlest, his Rose-for that was her name. The memories rose before him-her little, dark, s.h.i.+ning eyes; her little hands, and he had danced with her held close to his chest, and she had squealed like a piglet for joy. Around and around he had gone with her, dancing his jig on the banks of the stream in a piney forest, his fine wife singing her ballad for the fifth time, the boys clapping the beat, impatiently waiting their turn to whirl in the arms of their Da. Around and around until his head spun and he fell into the gra.s.s. And little Rose climbing upon his chest to look down at him with those dark, sparkling eyes, the blue sky at her back.

A man of dirt does not weep. He cannot sob. Hunger knew this all too well. But in his deepest parts he felt a longing, an emptiness, a something so vast and lonely and bleak that he stumbled with the sleth woman and fell to one knee.

The Green Beggar had taught that if a soul escaped the creatures that waited to devour them; if it managed the long trail in the world of the dead with all its perils; if it were wise, it would find that great Brightness that awaited even the most plain and rude of creatures. It would find the everlasting burnings of joy prepared by the Creators for those who sought true wisdom, who saw with the heart.

He, obviously, had not had much wisdom, for the Mother had caught him and devoured great portions of his soul almost as he was born into the other world. And he, in turn, had devoured others. Surely, the Six would destroy him should he ever win his freedom. But Rose, the boys, his good wife. They had done nothing.

The Mother called. She wanted this woman so strongly that her compulsion made him stand.

He held the broken collar in one hand and looked at it.

The Mother had laughed at him. At that moment he'd seen that it was indeed broken. Dead. His hope was nothing more than a sc.r.a.p of metal, its stink carried away by the wind. But he had the woman. He'd found her just as the Mother had commanded, and she had promised to release his family.

No, she hadn't said that exactly, had she? She'd never promised to release them.

The Mother called again, and he could not resist her. He ran across a meadow and down to the rocks where one of the mouths of the Mother's caves lay.

This kidney-shaped entrance to the warrens sat hidden in the folds of the ravines and cliffs along the sea. He climbed up to it and eased himself in. It was almost too small for him by himself, so he held the woman close to his chest and belly with one arm and scrabbled along.

Again, he met the Mother in the warm room, the one that smelled of what he now knew was sulfur.

”Here,” said Hunger. ”This is the one that will lead us to the others.”

”Yes,” said the Mother. And she took the woman from him and laid her on a soft bed of gra.s.s and furs. ”We will need to keep her for a number of days. That will be your task.”

”She'll die down here,” he said. ”They need light.”

”Then you fetch it. If you want those pitiful souls you call your family, you keep her alive.”

”Yes,” he said. He would keep her. She would need food. She would need someone else to be with her. But someone else who would not run away.

He did not want to ask the Mother the question, but he had to. He had to know. ”Will you release one of the souls to me now?”

”Perhaps,” she said.

”You said-”

”Quiet!” she commanded.

She wouldn't do it. She was a liar.

But a thought had been forming. All was not lost. No, he had an idea buried deep down. If the collar could be made, then it could be remade. He didn't know how. But those men- He cut himself off in the thought and turned to leave.

The Mother stopped him. ”I want the others as well,” she said.

”What others?” he asked.

”You'll bring them here, those two men, and keep them as well.”

She'd heard his thoughts, knew who she spoke of. And his inability to hide from her filled him with dismay. ”Even you don't have the appet.i.te for three,” he said.

”I'm not going to eat them,” she said. Then she sighed. ”It is unfortunate that, when I found you, your soul was bound to the Mother of Mokad. I could only recover pieces.” She shook her head. ”Understand: the human wizards, those that stink, must swear allegiance to me. All of them.”

A memory rose in Hunger's mind. Before, when he was not in this body, he had been searching for something in her caves. Something dangerous. He had been under orders from a different master then who had yet another master. And the Mother had stolen him away from them. ”I had a name,” he said.

”That name doesn't matter,” she said. ”You are no longer that creature.”

”Lumen,” he said, and knew it was true. ”That was my name.” He himself had been a master. A Divine.

And a thrall. The realization of this crashed upon him-the Divines, the Glories, the rulers of men were nothing more than servants to creatures like herself.

But that wasn't right. He was Barg. He was many names. Confusion clouded his mind.

”You are mine now,” said the Mother.

That also was true, but it didn't mean he was hers willingly. ”The sleth will fight you. They will not serve you.”