Part 50 (1/2)

”Make me immortal,” the autarch commanded when he had regained control of himself. In the new silence that blanketed the great cavern his voice carried far. ”Make me immortal like you!”

”I will not,” said the G.o.d that wore the face of Barrick's father. said the G.o.d that wore the face of Barrick's father.

”What?” Sulepis straightened and turned toward the motionless figure. The autarch was taller than the being that had been Olin, but for all his size and the flare of his armor and feathered ornaments, there was no way anyone could have thought the autarch the more powerful. The G.o.d burned inside of Olin, glowing so that from different angles the king's very veins and bones could be seen. The skull beneath the king's face might have been made from the same gleaming stone that dotted the great cavern's walls. ”Do what I say, or I will destroy you!”

Barrick was still held fast. Some of his strength had returned, but not enough: he was bleeding from many wounds, and bones were broken inside the sheath of his flesh.

”But you cannot destroy me, Sulepis am-Bishakh,” the G.o.d said in a reasonable tone. the G.o.d said in a reasonable tone. ”You and these other mortals have not the power. You cannot compel me.” ”You and these other mortals have not the power. You cannot compel me.”

”What? Are you saying you lied lied?” The autarch's voice, instead of growing shriller, suddenly took on a tone at once silky and dangerous. ”That the promises you sent to me through the great Seeing Gla.s.s of the Khau-r-Yisti were meaningless?” The autarch turned as if to address his soldiers, although most of them were cowering facedown on the stony ground, or had retreated to the farther reaches of the island. Only the autarch's household guards, some two dozen of the formidable Leopards, remained on the stand with him and the priests and the prisoners. ”Do you think I would not be prepared for such tricks from one of those who have already been banished from the earth once for their treachery?” the autarch demanded. ”I will force you in ways you will not like, Death G.o.d.”

The face of Olin, its glow like the sickly s.h.i.+ne of a mushroom in dark earth, curled its lips in a ghastly approximation of a smile. ”Tell me of these ways, little emperor. Or better, show me.” ”Tell me of these ways, little emperor. Or better, show me.”

”A'lat!” the autarch called. ”A'lat! Bring the book!”

A small, dark-haired figure, wizened and as bent as an ape, limped quickly forward from the back of the platform, holding a brown, tattered scroll in its k.n.o.bby fist. It lifted the scroll and began to read the words written there. The Fireflower voices heard the words and shouted their meaning into his aching head.

”Xergal, I name you and bind you!

Kernios, I name you and bind you!

Earthlord, I name you and bind you!

You cannot die but I steal your joy!

You cannot die but I set black ants upon you to bite you!

You cannot die but I set pebbles beneath your skin to itch you!

You cannot die but the wind will blow and disperse your thoughts!

The dogs will bark at your window!

Sleep will never soothe you!

Your bed will be as restless and lonely as a grave without offerings ...”

As the desert priest intoned the words the wood of the platform began to sway and creak, as though some great weight had been set down upon it. Even the rocks of the cavern wall seemed to rumble in discomfort, shaking Barrick to his core. Beside him, Ferras Vansen began to stir to life, though Qinnitan remained as still as death.

But the thing that had been King Olin, the waxy, gleaming thing that was no longer anything like a man except in form, only listened, motionless and unperturbed.

”Deathlord, by your secret names I punish you!

Master of Worms!

Empty Box!

Iron Gloves!

By your secret names I curse you! You cannot do harm to me in turn!

Burned Foot!

Silver Beak!

King of the Red Windows!

Master and Slave of the Great Knot!

You have disobeyed my lawful summons.

Your heart is mine! Your happiness is mine!”

The priest finished in a howl of imprecations, but when he fell silent. the G.o.d still stood, unmoved, his essence burning deep inside Olin's waxy flesh.

”Did you truly think I would let you thwart me, after all I have done?” the autarch cried, his anger too great to let him show fear. ”You are trapped, Kernios, trapped in that mortal body! Because as I name you, so I command you-and I know all your names, Skull Eater! And if I choose to destroy that vessel, it may be that you die, too-a true death that can come even to G.o.ds!”

”You know so little.” The G.o.d spread its arms wider. The air grew tighter all through the cavern, making Barrick's ears ache. On the ground beside him, Vansen groaned and grabbed at his head. The G.o.d spread its arms wider. The air grew tighter all through the cavern, making Barrick's ears ache. On the ground beside him, Vansen groaned and grabbed at his head. ”True, you have named a name . . . but it is not mine.” ”True, you have named a name . . . but it is not mine.”

”Kill it!” the autarch cried. All around, the Leopards came scrambling forward. ”Grab this thing and cast it into the fire-burn it like a candle . . . !”

”No.” The G.o.d extended its hand, and the soldiers fell down clutching their chests as if they had been pierced by arrows, rifles and helmets clattering from their hands. The G.o.d extended its hand, and the soldiers fell down clutching their chests as if they had been pierced by arrows, rifles and helmets clattering from their hands. ”You know so little. I am not here, in this pathetic skin. Even with your ceremony, only a token part of my being can pa.s.s through to inhabit this twice-usurped king. The rest of me remains trapped in the dreaming lands, where Crooked banished me . . . but now Crooked is dead.” ”You know so little. I am not here, in this pathetic skin. Even with your ceremony, only a token part of my being can pa.s.s through to inhabit this twice-usurped king. The rest of me remains trapped in the dreaming lands, where Crooked banished me . . . but now Crooked is dead.”

”But you are my slave slave, Xergal or Kernios or whatever name you choose, DeathG.o.d!” the autarch shrieked. ”Nothing you say or do can change that. I have spoken the words of power. I have prepared the way. You have come through and accepted what I set out for you-this mortal vessel with its ancient, holy blood! Now you are mine, curse you, mine! mine!”

The G.o.d laughed again. It still sounded something like music, but a music that sc.r.a.ped and grated in Barrick's skull until he thought he might fall back to the ground, screaming.

”Fool,” said the thing in Olin's body. ” said the thing in Olin's body. ”You cannot tame me because you cannot name me. Now look to the foot of the s.h.i.+ning Man and you will see the rest of the answer to my riddle.”

Barrick turned with everyone else. In such a dim place, it was likely he was the only person in the great chamber who recognized the small, portly figure shuffling across the stony island toward the monstrous outcrop. It was the physician, Chaven Makaros, with the stone statue of Kernios clutched in his hand and an expression on his blinking face like something caught in the light when it would have preferred darkness.

”Who is that?” demanded Sulepis, losing control again. ”Who is that walking there . . . ?”

”It is my slave,” said the thing that wore Olin. said the thing that wore Olin. ”Do you see what he carries? That is the G.o.dstone, as you call it-the thing you sought in vain. It is the last piece of the s.h.i.+ning Man, and it broke free long ago when Crooked sealed the way with his own life's essence. Ignorant humans made a fetish of it, a statue ...” ”Do you see what he carries? That is the G.o.dstone, as you call it-the thing you sought in vain. It is the last piece of the s.h.i.+ning Man, and it broke free long ago when Crooked sealed the way with his own life's essence. Ignorant humans made a fetish of it, a statue ...”

”Kill him!” the autarch shouted suddenly. ”Archers! Kill that creature!”

Before Barrick could even take a breath, let alone try to struggle loose from his captors, a humming cloud of arrows flew toward Chaven a hundred paces away; but although the darts seemed to fly right at him, they landed in a great spatter of loose stones without even touching him. The autarch bellowed in rage and had them fire again, but these, too, could not seem to find Chaven.

”You cannot strike him!” The face of the possessed king looked bloated and inhuman, as if something pressed out from behind the skin. Barrick had seen something like it once, when a drowned man had been fished out of the East Lagoon, swollen into something far more grotesque than any mere dead body. The face of the possessed king looked bloated and inhuman, as if something pressed out from behind the skin. Barrick had seen something like it once, when a drowned man had been fished out of the East Lagoon, swollen into something far more grotesque than any mere dead body. ”I have misdirected the eyes of your soldiers!” ”I have misdirected the eyes of your soldiers!”

”I am sorry, Father,” Barrick whispered. ”Sorry, sorry ...”

Untouched by arrows, Chaven seemed nevertheless for the first time to be aware of what was around him. He slowed his already plodding pace, then stopped and turned to look back at the autarch's platform.