Part 40 (1/2)

s.h.i.+meh encircled the nearing ground, dark save where fires scored her. They sensed the mortals, loping like monkeys down murky streets, raping, murdering, warring ...

Would that they could devour it all.

But the Voice! The Voice! Like a thing of needles. More agonizing than the million teeth of this surrounding world.

They soared toward the city's heart, following the yaw and pitch of the eastern wind, then alighted, one after another, on the eaves of the First Temple.

The Voice approved.

They flattened like beetles against the slate. They could sense the eyeless ones within, waiting.

Fall upon them! the Voice screeched. the Voice screeched. Rend them! Only in their midst will you be safe from the Chorae! Rend them! Only in their midst will you be safe from the Chorae!

They smashed through the s.h.i.+ngles, tore aside the braces, cracked the great stone lintels asunder, then dropped in a hail of debris. A dozen saffron-robed men scrambled about them, blue lights flas.h.i.+ng from their foreheads. Great arcs of energy sizzled across their incandescent hides.

Sohorat roared, and plaster rained throughout the forest of columns. Flies burst from his maw. Raving wolves bubbled from his palms, smashed the sheets of light, gorged on those cringing behind them. Zioz swept burning threads into his fist, wrenched souls from their housing meat. Setmahaga clawed aside flimsy defences, struck heads from bodies, gloried in the blood that smoked across his limbs. He squealed like a thousand pigs, such was his exultation.

”Demon!” A voice like a thunderclap. A voice like a thunderclap.

They turned from the blood-soaked marble, saw an old, eyeless man approach from the deeper temple. Something flashed from his forehead, like a stolen star. Others spilled between the flanking columns. More blind men.

Flee, the Voice whispered in his soul. the Voice whispered in his soul.

Setmahaga fell first, struck in the eye by an absence absence affixed to the end of a stick. An explosion of burning salt ... affixed to the end of a stick. An explosion of burning salt ...

Flee!

Then Sohorat, his slavering form caught in torrents of light, screamed.

Zioz leapt into the clouds.

Return me, manling! Throw off these chains!

But the Scarlet Schoolman was obstinate.

One last task ... One more offending eye ...

Water everywhere, falling in thundering cataracts, singular drops, and draping sheets. Kellhus paused next to one of the s.h.i.+ning braziers, peered beneath the bronze visage that loomed orange and scowling over his father, watched him lean back into absolute shadow.

”You came to the world,” unseen lips said, ”and you saw that Men were like children.”

Lines of radiance danced across the intervening waters.

”It is their nature to believe as their fathers believed,” the darkness continued. ”To desire as they desired ... Men are like wax poured into moulds: their souls are cast by their circ.u.mstances. Why are no Fanim children born to Inrithi parents? Why are no Inrithi children born to Fanim parents? Because these truths are made, made, cast by the particularities of circ.u.mstance. Rear an infant among Fanim and he will become Fanim. Rear him among Inrithi and he will become Inrithi ... cast by the particularities of circ.u.mstance. Rear an infant among Fanim and he will become Fanim. Rear him among Inrithi and he will become Inrithi ...

”Split him in two, and he would murder himself.”

Without warning, the face re-emerged, water-garbled, white save the black sockets beneath his brow. The action seemed random, as though his father merely changed posture to relieve some vagrant ache, but it was not. Everything, Everything, Kellhus knew, had been premeditated. For all the changes wrought by thirty years in the Wilderness, his father remained Dunyain ... Kellhus knew, had been premeditated. For all the changes wrought by thirty years in the Wilderness, his father remained Dunyain ...

Which meant that Kellhus stood on conditioned ground.

”But as obvious as this is,” the blurred face continued, ”it escapes them. Because they cannot see what comes before them, they a.s.sume nothing nothing comes before them. Nothing. They are numb to the hammers of circ.u.mstance, blind to their conditioning. What is branded into them, they think freely chosen. comes before them. Nothing. They are numb to the hammers of circ.u.mstance, blind to their conditioning. What is branded into them, they think freely chosen.

So they thoughtlessly cleave to their intuitions, and curse those who dare question. They make ignorance their foundation. They confuse their narrow conditioning for absolute truth.”

He raised a cloth, pressed it into the pits of his eyes. When he withdrew it, two rose-coloured stains marked the pale fabric. The face slipped back into the impenetrable black.

”And yet part of them fears. For even unbelievers share the depth of their conviction. Everywhere, all about them, they see examples of their own self-deception ... 'Me!' everyone cries. 'I am chosen!' How could they not not fear when they so resemble children stamping their feet in the dust? So they encircle themselves with yea-sayers, and look to the horizon for confirmation, for some fear when they so resemble children stamping their feet in the dust? So they encircle themselves with yea-sayers, and look to the horizon for confirmation, for some higher sign higher sign that they are as central to the world as they are to themselves.” that they are as central to the world as they are to themselves.”

He waved his hand out, brought his palm to his bare breast. ”And they pay with the coin of their devotion.”

”And what of you, Akka?” Esmenet said, her voice become scathing. ”Haven't you yielded your precious Gnosis as readily as I've yielded my womb?” Why couldn't she just hate him, this drab and broken sorcerer? It would all be so much easier then.

Achamian cleared his throat. ”Yes ... yes, I have ...”

”Then tell me why, why, Holy Tutor. Why would a Mandate Schoolman do such an unthinkable thing?” Holy Tutor. Why would a Mandate Schoolman do such an unthinkable thing?”

”Because the Second Apocalypse ... It comes ...”

”The very world is at stake and you complain complain that he makes weapons of all things? Akka, you should rejoi-” that he makes weapons of all things? Akka, you should rejoi-”

”I'm not saying he's not the Harbinger! He may even be a prophet for all I know ...”

”Then what are are you saying, Akka? Do you even you saying, Akka? Do you even know know?”

Two tears threaded his cheeks.

”That he stole stole you from me! Stole!” you from me! Stole!”

”Picked your purse, did he? That's funny, because I feel more s.h.i.+t than gold.”

”It's not like that.”

”Isn't it? You love me, yes, Akka, but I've never been anything more than a-”

”But you're not thinking not thinking! You see only your love for him. You're not thinking of what he sees when he gazes upon you when he gazes upon you.”

A moment of silent horror.