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Synopsis
In a time lost in legend, the Isles of Wenaya were united in worship of Javander, goddess of the seas. From her fantastical palace beneath the waves, Javander presided over a caste of priestesses, linked in a thrumming psychic web. Then the web was broken, Javander's people turned to false gods and the priestesses who once served her so well became the Sisterhood of the Blue Storm . . . Ten boys on the cusp of adulthood arrive on the empty tropical island of Xaro to undergo their Manhood Trial, an age-old ritual meant to build character as they leave their childhood behind. They thought they could survive alone. But that was before the killing began. That was before the Blue Storm. To this island of dark magic come Jem and his companions, pursuing their mystic quest for the long-lost crystals of the Orokon, desperate to find Javinder's blue jewel before Jem's evil rival, the anti-god Toth-Vexrah, gets there. Never has the quest been so perilous. Originally released under the pseudonym Tom Arden
Release date: November 19, 2015
Publisher: Jo Fletcher Books
Print pages: 646
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Sisterhood of the Blue Storm
David Rain
Praise
Also by David Rain
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
The Sisterhood Song
Players
The Story So Far
PART ONE: The Lost Boys
Chapter 1: A MOUNTAIN ON FIRE
Chapter 2: ULTRAMARINE
Chapter 3: A BUZZING OF FLIES
Chapter 4: GREEN MANSIONS
Chapter 5: THIS SIDE OF PARADISE
Chapter 6: FINGERS DOWN MY THROAT
Chapter 7: THE YOUNG ENCHANTED
Chapter 8: LEKI’S LIGHT
Chapter 9: THE AMALI SCREEN
Chapter 10: ZIGZAG
Chapter 11: DEAD MAN’S LOOKOUT
Chapter 12: DEEP PURPLE
Chapter 13: THE MANHOOD TRIAL
Chapter 14: LEGEND OF THE TRIURGE
Chapter 15: ORPHANS OF THE STORM
Chapter 16: THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
Chapter 17: ON THE BEACH
Chapter 18: CLOUDBURSTING
Chapter 19: THE PRINCE OF TIDES
Chapter 20: LEMONSILK TRAIN
Chapter 21: CEREMONY OF THE SWORD
Chapter 22: THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD
PART TWO: Terror of the Triurge
Chapter 23: A GAME OF CHESS
Chapter 24: DAZED AND CONFUSED
Chapter 25: ROCKS AND SAND
Chapter 26: VOICE FROM THE VORTEX
Chapter 27: THE GODDESS IN THE GARDEN SHED
Chapter 28: IN THE CLOSET
Chapter 29: A MOTHER’S LOINS
Chapter 30: AN OFFER FOR SELINDA
Chapter 31: ANOTHER OFFER FOR SELINDA
Chapter 32: BETWEEN THE ACTS
Chapter 33: THE OCLAR STATUE
Chapter 34: WHAT MAKES A MAN A MAN
Chapter 35: A PLAYER’S STAGE
Chapter 36: THE BIRDS
Chapter 37: THE RAVEN
Chapter 38: LOOK THROUGH MY WINDOW
Chapter 39: RED SMOKE OR BLUE?
Chapter 40: THE CHANNELLING
Chapter 41: TRIARCH AND TRIURGE
PART THREE: The Old Man of the Island
Chapter 42: DEAD MAN OVER ALL
Chapter 43: THE TERRIBLE COLONNADES
Chapter 44: THE BEAUTIFUL AND DAMNED
Chapter 45: THE BARNACLED BANQUET
Chapter 46: PLAYING FOR TIME
Chapter 47: THE FLYING ZENZAN
Chapter 48: AMBORA ROCK
Chapter 49: THE VORTEX
Chapter 50: ALL THE CONSPIRATORS
Chapter 51: STROKE! STROKE!
Chapter 52: FOOTPRINT IN THE SAND
Chapter 53: THE LANCING OF A BOIL
Chapter 54: THE FIRE SERMON
Chapter 55: AFTER THE RAIN
PART FOUR: Into the Storm
Chapter 56: DEATH BY WATER
Chapter 57: SHABBY ISLAND
Chapter 58: THE AUCTION
Chapter 59: A SEA CHANGE
Chapter 60: HEART OF DARKNESS
Chapter 61: STRANGE MEETING
Chapter 62: ALBATROSS
Chapter 63: MIDNIGHT VOYAGE
Chapter 64: TO THE WILD SKY
PART FIVE: The Briny Citadel
Chapter 65: RETURN OF THE NATIVE
Chapter 66: LOOKING-GLASS LABYRINTH
Chapter 67: THE BLUE SKYSHIP
Chapter 68: SAFE IN MY GARDEN
Chapter 69: THE SPIDER’S WEB
Chapter 70: TENDER IS THE NIGHT
Chapter 71: THE TIGER IN THE SMOKE
Chapter 72: UNDER THE VOLCANO
Chapter 73: THE FIFTH ELEMENT
Chapter 74: WHAT THE THUNDER SAID
Chapter 75: THE SHADOW LINE
Chapter 76: SEA BURIAL
JEM, the hero, seeker after the Orokon
RAJAL, loyal friend to Jem; fellow seeker
LITTLER, their small companion
CAPTAIN PORLO, a pirate, master of the Catayane
PATCHES, his long-suffering cabin boy
SELINDA, a noble lady of the Isle of Hora
MAIUS ENEO, beloved of Selinda
RA FANANA, a nurse; slave to Selinda
TAGAN, a eunuch; also slave to Selinda
LEKI, who is nothing like Tagan
UCHEUS, who is nothing like Leki
OJO, who is nothing like Ucheus
JODRELL, father to Selinda; a Triarch of Hora
FAHAN and AZANDER, his fellow Triarchs
PRINCE LEPATO, suitor to Selinda (Innerman)
LORD GLOND, suitor to Selinda (Outrealmer)
BLARD and MENOS, drug-abusing sentries on Hora
CHIEF ADEK, of whom they go in fear
MARGITES of the Sea Vagas, a travelling player
Other PLAYERS in The Javandiom
SAXIS, who is either a philosopher or a sorcerer
The SEA OUABIN, a notorious corsair, master of the Death Flame
SCURVY, a crook-backed dwarf; his familiar
VERNEY, former trusted associate of the Sea Ouabin
YOUNG LACANI, an old man; slave on the Death Flame
BONES and PANCHO, also slaves on the Death Flame
ROBANDER SELSOE, the celebrated castaway
WHALE, fat first mate on the Catayane
WALRUS, buck-toothed boatswain on the Catayane
PORPOISE, slithery helmsman on the Catayane
SEA-SNAKE, well-endowed cook on the Catayane
ALAM, a survivor from the Death Flame
MAIUS CASTOR (‘CASTOR-UNCLE’), father to Maius Eneo
MYLA, Rajal’s missing sister; a child of great magic
SHIA MILANDROS, a bitchy young girl
FAZY VINA, ditto; her best friend
FATHERS to Shia Milandros and Fazy Vina
KOFU, the unman who tended Ojo
ARD IRED, the unman who tended Ucheus
GOODY PALMER and her FIVE DAUGHTERS
The BLISHA DOLL, much-abused doll of Selinda’s late mother
PAREUS ENEO, Dynast of Aroc
PRIESTS OF AROC, their religious leaders
The GATHERING OF THIRTY, rulers of Hora
KEEPERS OF THE LAW on Hora
The AUCTIONEER on Shaba Lalia
GUARDS, SLAVES, SAILORS, MERCHANTS, HARLOTS,
ISLANDERS OF NUMEROUS ISLANDS,
STREET-CHILDREN, CANNIBALS
&c.
SOME IMPORTANT PEOPLE, PRESENTLY OFF-STAGE:
CATA, the heroine; beloved of Jem
POLTY (POLTISS VEELDROP), his implacable enemy
BEAN (ARON THROSH), accomplice of Polty, beloved of Rajal
LADY UMBECCA VEELDROP, evil great-aunt to Jem and Cata
NIRRY, her runaway servant; staunch friend to Jem and Cata
EAY FEVAL, friend and spiritual advisor to Umbecca
CONSTANSIA CHAM-CHARING, former great society hostess
TISHY CHAM-CHARING, her unmarriageable daughter
SILAS WOLVERON, father to Cata; not really dead
BARNABAS, a magical dwarf; certainly not dead
LORD EMPSTER, Jem’s treacherous guardian: see also AGONIS
TRANIMEL, Ejland’s evil First Minister: see also TOTH-VEXRAH
EJARD BLUEJACKET, unrightful King of Ejland
QUEEN JELICA, his wife, the former Miss Jelica Vance
‘BOB SCARLET’, highwayman and rebel leader
HUL, his deputy; once a great scholar
BANDO, friend to Hul; veteran rebel
RAGGLE and TAGGLE, sons to Bando
LANDA, a beautiful young Zenzan Priestess
BAINES, also known as the ‘One-Eyed Beauty’
GOODMAN OLCH (‘WIGGLER’), husband to Nirry
MORVEN and CRUM
Various other OLD FRIENDS, ENEMIES
&c.
VARIOUS DEAD PEOPLE:
ADRI, a scrawny and nervous youth
NICANDER, known as ‘childlike Nicander’
INFIN IJAS, a dreamy youth whose eyesight was poor
ZAP, a bit of jester, said to be ‘boneheaded’
JUROS IKO and JENAS IKO, twins and singers
LEMYU, a sailor in a stripy shirt
CAPTAIN BEEZER, formerly master of the Catayane
SULTAN KALED, formerly ruler of Unang Lia
RADENINE, son to the Dynast Pareus Eneo
ANIANI, a young maiden; his beloved
BELROND, her father
TRIARCH SPEKO, maternal great-father to Selinda
WILEY WAN WO, steward of Castle Glond
MANI, daughter of Wiley Wan Wo
BLACKMOON, sometime companion to Robander Selsoe
SELINDA’S MOTHER, former abuser of the Blisha doll
SCHUVART and HANDYN, the great composers
THELL, ancient author of The Javandiom
VICTIMS of the Sisterhood of the Blue Storm
VICTIMS of the Triurge
&c.
ANIMALS OF VARIOUS SORTS:
RAINBOW, a most remarkable dog
BUBY the monkey
The BLUE RAVEN
KYRA, an unfortunate heifer
EJARD ORANGE, a marmalade cat
BOLLOCKS, a marmalade cat
PUSS, a marmalade cat
The OXEN OF THE MOON
The ORCHESTRA AQUATIC, in Javander’s palace
TAXIDERMISED BIRDS and MOTHS UNDER GLASS
Numerous FISH, both dead and living
PONIES, MULES, SERPENTS,
RATS, FLIES, FLEAS, LICE
&c.
GODS AND STRANGE BEINGS:
OROK, Ur-God, father of the gods
KOROS, god of darkness, worshipped by the Vagas (purple)
VIANA, goddess of earth, worshipped in Zenzau (green)
THERON, god of fire, worshipped in Unang-Lia (red)
JAVANDER, goddess of water, once worshipped in Wenaya (blue)
AGONIS, god of air, worshipped in Ejland (gold)
TOTH-VEXRAH, the evil anti-god
The LADY IMAGENTA, his mysterious daughter
AMAS, son to Javander, Prince of Rocks (purple)
EON, son to Javander, Prince of Winds (green)
ISOL, son to Javander, Prince of Shells (red)
OCLAR, son to Javander, Prince of Tides (blue)
UVAN, son to Javander, Prince of Sands (gold)
The SPIDERMOTHER, leader of the Sisterhood of the Blue Storm
WEBSISTERS of the Sisterhood of the Blue Storm
The SIBYL OF XARO, a wall full of holes
The SIBYL OF INORCHIS, another one just like it
The THUNDERER AROC XARO, a mystical volcano
The THUNDERER AROC INORCHIS, another one just like it
The TRIURGE, a terrifying metamorphic land-monster
The MANDRU, a terrifying metamorphic sea-monster
KALADOR, beguiling alter-ego of the Mandru
The FLYING ZENZAN, a haunted ship
ABORTIONS writhing on Theron’s floor
The HARLEQUIN
Other CREATURES OF EVIL
&c.
Like hundreds upon hundreds of bright flowers, flung carelessly across the surface of the sea, the Isles of Wenaya stretch away from the mainland of El-Orok in a great ragged arc. Quite where the isles end is a mystery, at least to the sailors of El-Orok – Ejlanders, Zenzans and Unangs alike. Some say another continent lies beyond, of an extent even greater than their own; some say that where the isles end, the earth ends too, with the sea sizzling away into a fiery trench. There is talk of fish-people, monstrous sea-serpents, and much worse besides. Superstition, no doubt; but even on the many-sailed ships of Ejland, mightiest of the nations of El-Orok, tarry fellows are known to quail as they venture deeper and ever deeper into the watery labyrinths of Wenaya. The isles, and the seas in which they lie, are feared as places of dark magic.
So Prince Jemany had read in books of travels, long ago during languid days in Lord Empster’s library. Back then in Agondon, Jem would have found it hard to imagine that he would ever come to these isles – let alone on a magic carpet.
Sighing, he stretched out on the hot fabric, shutting his eyes against the sharp morning light. Incense rose from the soft wool. How luxuriously he had passed the night, sunk in these fragrant hollows! Embraced in the genie’s magic, he had felt no fear. Now, he was certain, the magic was dispersing. But might it not last just a little longer?
Warm winds rippled through his dishevelled blond hair and once again he felt himself, not quite unwillingly, drifting back into sleep. Lightly he circled Rainbow with a protective arm. The stripy dog lay panting, blinking, his head on his paws, his new silver collar flashing brightly. The collar had been a gift from Princess Bela Dona, the strange, beautiful girl Jem and his companions had befriended in Unang Lia. The Princess had assured them that the collar had magical powers. But the magic, if magic there were, had yet to manifest itself.
Dreamily Jem listened to Rajal’s voice, and Littler’s. They were wondering just when the carpet would land.
It was a good question.
‘Can you see anything, Littler?’ Rajal was saying.
Cross-legged, hunching over, Littler stared into the Orb of Seeing, his own mysterious gift from Princess Bela Dona. The young Unang boy was hardly interested at all in the real scene passing below; with his gleaming new talisman, he endeavoured instead to see their destination. Wenaya, yes – but where?
When Jafir the genie had set the carpet in motion, Jem and his companions had simply been glad to be on their way with all speed. They had given little thought to how their journey might end.
Now, they were beginning to wonder if Jafir had either.
Littler strained his eyes into the orb. Princess Bela Dona had not actually explained to him how to use it – if, that is, she had known. Was there, perhaps, some special way of looking? Blue reflections shifted in the rounded glass.
‘Something,’ he murmured, ‘some kind of … blue—’
‘That’s the sky, you idiot!’ said Rajal. ‘Give me a look—’
‘Hands off! The orb’s mine—’
‘Well, look harder.’ Impatiently the Vaga-youth toyed with his own talisman, the Amulet of Tukhat that he now wore round his wrist Could it really protect him from harm? If so, he thought ruefully, it would have quite a task, judging by his past experiences. In Unang Lia, he had come close to death – and to things, perhaps, still worse than death. He shook his dark-haired head, as if to banish painful thoughts.
He did not quite succeed.
‘We must land soon, mustn’t we?’ he said impatiently.
‘Yes,’ said Littler. ‘But where?’
Deep in the jungle, heat hovers like a mysterious menace. Moisture coils up steamily from the earth and drips back down from curling, riotous leaves, from clustering flowers and speckled, huge-capped toadstools. Sunlight, even in the brightness of morning, glimmers and fractures through the lattices of green.
There were sounds of crashing. Then came voices.
‘It’s our last chance.’ It was a boy who spoke.
‘Didn’t you say we’d had that already?’ said another, leading a protesting heifer.
‘We’re alive, aren’t we? Uchy, don’t be such a follyface.’
‘Me, a follyface? Ojo, what about Leki?’
‘He’s more than a follyface, he’s a madmaster.’
‘That’s not what I mean – I mean, what will he say when he finds out what we’ve done?’
There were two of them, both aged perhaps fourteen or fifteen orbits. Ojo, the one in front, was thickset, stocky; Ucheus, who tugged at the heifer’s rope, was slender, almost delicate. Both boys had skin the colour of bronze and dark, unkempt hair, Ojo’s a shock of ragged curls, his companion’s a crudely hacked mass of spikes. Downy growth furred their upper lips and their limbs were webbed with scratches. They were dirty and the tunics they wore, though once ornate, had long been reduced to rags. They struggled uphill through the enveloping jungle.
Ojo said, ‘Leki should be glad that someone’s taken charge.’
‘Leki thinks he’s in charge,’ Ucheus said doubtfully.
‘Yes, and look at the mess we’re in.’
It was difficult to argue. Ucheus set his mouth and followed in silence for some moments, pausing from time to time to tug, always a little harder, at the rope around the sickly heifer’s neck. How he hated to look into her big, sad eyes! He hoped he could avoid those eyes when Ojo cut her throat – at least, he hoped it would be Ojo who cut her throat. Ucheus might have spent more time on Castor-uncle’s farm, but after all, it was Ojo whose father was a Priest of Aroc.
If only it were over. ‘Kyra, come on!’
Ojo rolled his eyes. ‘Follyface, did you have to give her a name?’
‘I give all the animals names. Didn’t you learn anything in Sacred School, Ojo? A name’s a charm against evil.’
‘Doesn’t work then, does it?’
‘Not for Kyra, I suppose.’
‘Nor for us.’
‘What?’
‘We all had names. And we’re dead.’
‘Not all of us,’ said Ucheus. ‘We’re alive, you said so before.’
Ojo pushed between sticky vines. ‘And seven of us aren’t.’
‘Seven? No, Ojo – six.’
‘Maius Eneo? You don’t still wish you’d gone with him, do you?’
Ucheus said glumly, ‘Of course I do!’
His friend’s reply was brutal. ‘Maius Eneo’s drowned, Uchy – drowned on the first day. Leki’s right about that much, at least.’
‘Leki? You said he was a madmaster!’
‘Not about this – face it, Uchy!’
The slender youth cast down his eyes. How could Ojo speak this way? Wasn’t it bad luck even to utter such doubts? In the end, if only one of them lived, it had to be Maius Eneo – dear, marvellous Maius Eneo … no, he could never have died at sea. Hadn’t he been the best swimmer of them all – hadn’t he been the best of them at everything? To be sure, Maius Eneo would reach the Isle of Hora, he would bring help – why, even now he might be on his way back!
Anger welled in Ucheus and he wished he had the nerve to fling himself forward, wrestling Ojo to the ground, making him take back the stupid thing he had said.
But they could hardly fight amongst themselves, could they? Not now.
There was an ominous rumbling beneath their feet.
‘The Thunderer’s angry with us,’ Ucheus murmured.
Quickly, with no more words, the boys clambered through the tangled shadows, making their way towards the Plateau of Voices.
Kyra tugged at her rope.
‘The Crystal of Javander?’ Littler murmured.
Rajal’s voice was wry. ‘That’s what I said. Just look for that, hm – save us a lot of time. Say, you don’t think Jafir’s spell will take us right there, do you – land us right on top of the blue crystal?’
Littler, concentrating on the orb, did not reply.
Miserably, Rajal looked around him. How tired he was of the magic carpet – tired of the billowing fabric beneath them, that was barely big enough to contain them all; tired of the wind in their faces and hair; tired of being cramped, hot, and hungry … Very hungry, by now.
Ruefully reaching into a pocket, Rajal drew forth the bag of gold that Fish had thrust into his hand, just before their journey began. Good old Fish! Hearty meals, many of them, were easily within their reach – if only they could find a nice comfortable tavern.
Some chance.
It had been at dusk, the evening before, when they had left behind the hot desert wastes. In the night, the scene beneath had been a watery shimmer, scattered with dark humps of islands and faintly, here and there, with a flicker of fire. Now it was a brilliant shade of ultramarine, sparkling as if with scattered diamonds. For some time there had been no islands. Had they gone beyond the Waters of Wenaya? Rajal peered cautiously over the carpet’s tasselled edge. In one direction there were only open seas – then he turned his head and saw clouds of smoke.
He jerked upright. ‘Look!’
‘Wh-what?’ Jem started awake.
‘Hey! Don’t rock the carpet!’ Littler protested, grabbing the orb before it rolled over the side.
Rajal pointed. ‘That mountain – it’s on fire!’
They turned their heads. A smoky trail scudded across the sky, issuing from the apex of a high, wooded island. The island was still far away, and there was no other land in sight.
Jem yawned, stretching. ‘Raj, it’s only a volcano.’
‘A what?’ said Rajal. ‘Jem, when have you ever seen a mountain like that?’
‘Well, in a picture,’ Jem admitted. ‘It smokes, that’s all.’
‘Like a tobarillo?’ Rajal said dubiously. ‘But why?’
‘Explodes too, doesn’t it?’ said Littler. ‘Well, sometimes – I’ll look in the orb.’
‘I’ll throw that thing overboard in a moment,’ said Rajal. ‘It doesn’t work, anyway.’
‘Of course it works,’ said Littler. Shifting on to his haunches, he stared into the glass again. ‘It just hasn’t yet.’
Rajal rolled his eyes. ‘How is it,’ he wondered, ‘that a genie who can send us soaring across the sky, across half the world, couldn’t stop one little brat – not to mention his dog – from clambering up beside us? How are we going to be able to find the Crystal of Javander, if we’re worrying all the time about this pest?’
‘Littler’s been a good friend,’ said Jem.
‘He’s a baby – and he’s brought his dog with him!’
Littler’s eyes flashed. In his short but turbulent life he had endured insults worse than these. He was not afraid of Rajal. ‘I’m not the one who doesn’t even know what a volcano is,’ he sniffed. ‘Jem, I helped you out in the dreaming dimension, didn’t I? I’ll bet I’ve got out of more scrapes than the pair of you put together. I’ve been a thief for as long as I can remember, I think fast, I’m quick on my feet – and now,’ he added proudly, ‘I’ve got a magic orb. You’ll see, I’ll be worth my weight in gold.’
Rajal weighed the bag of gold in his hand. ‘Jem, how much do you think Littler weighs?’ he said mischievously.
Jem ignored him. ‘I’m sure you will, Littler. Rainbow too, hm?’
Smiling, he fluffed the dog’s stripy fur. Whether Littler and his colourful friend would help or hinder them was neither here nor there. There was no turning back. The four of them were together now, and heading into danger.
‘Follyface, careful of that spear—’
‘It’s my eyes, I’m dazzled—’
Ojo and Ucheus were standing on the Plateau of Voices. In truth, it was not so much a plateau as the merest rocky shelf, jutting above a sea the colour of ultramarine. Ucheus set down his spear, but still held tightly to Kyra’s rope. He screwed up his face and shielded his eyes. Far above, he was aware of smoke from the volcanic summit of the island, drifting slowly in the cloudless sky. Below, the sea foamed gently against the rocks.
‘On a morning like this,’ he murmured, ‘it’s hard to believe we ever had the Blue Storm.’
‘Look at us now,’ Ojo said bitterly. ‘Doesn’t that tell you the storm was real?
Ucheus supposed it did. Only a moonlife had passed since the night of the storm, but already the time before seemed sundered from them as if by an abyss of years. What terrible magic that night had wrought! He gazed over the sea, thinking again of the wild whipping winds, the flashing blue lights that had taken Inorchis, their companion island. ‘Sometimes I wonder if it’s still there – still there, only we can’t see it.’
‘What? The storm?’
‘Inorchis, of course. What else?’
Ucheus sighed, then so did Ojo, saddened by even the name of their lost home. With a resigned air the stocky youth took Kyra’s rope, tethering her to a rock by the sacrificial slab. ‘Uchy,’ he said, more kindly than before, ‘why don’t you get some branches for the fire? Leki could well be awake by now. If he sees that Kyra’s gone, he might guess what we’re doing – hm?’
They worked in silence, tearing at the dry, salty vegetation that sprouted from cracks in the rocky shelf. Beside the slab was a shallow pit, blackened with traces of innumerable fires that sun and wind had yet to blanch away. When they had filled the pit, Ojo dug the fire-lens from a pocket of his tunic. He stood splay-footed over the branches and leaves. Focusing the sun’s rays, his face twisted in concentration as if it were his mind and not the brightness above that would set the pit to burn.
Kyra lowed piteously, as if she knew what the fire was for. But she was too weak to resist now, wasn’t she? Ucheus gulped, avoiding the sight of her face with its blinking, huge, sad eyes.
Beyond the slab, gaping impassively, were the hundred mouths of the Sibyl, or rather a hundred holes in a sheer wall of rock, the largest perhaps the size of a man’s head. Not for the first time, Ucheus trembled in the presence of these holes, so dark, so ominous against the sun-drenched plateau. Some said the holes reached far beneath the sea, perhaps into the very depths of the world.
The leaves began to smoulder; Ojo slipped the fire-lens into his pocket again. The two boys exchanged glances. Ojo gulped. Could he really go through with this? Priest of Aroc his father may have been, but what did that matter? Neither boy had seen a sacrifice before, let alone officiated at one. On Inorchis, only those who had passed the Manhood Trial had been permitted even to witness such acts. But Ojo knew he must take the lead. If Ucheus placed his faith only in Maius Eneo, Ojo would show him … yes, he would show him!
He picked up his spear. Kyra scrambled back.
Ucheus said quickly, ‘Not the spear, Ojo.’
‘You’re right.’ Hanging from Ojo’s belt was his kos-knife, the only one that remained to the three who were left. Ucheus had lost his long ago; Leki’s had snapped against a sow’s breastbone; whatever had killed their six companions had been careful to leave no weapons behind. Ojo gripped the flattened, cracking handle, testing the blade against his thumb.
Dull, but it would have to do.
‘Hold her, Uchy.’
Through what followed, Ucheus tried to keep his eyes closed. If only he could have blocked his ears, too – and his nose! He had killed pigs and rabbits, but this was worse, much worse: this was Kyra. Flinching, he heard her desperate squeals; he felt her violent thrashings, convulsing up through his rigid arms. The stench of fear rose hotly all around him, mingling with the acrid smoke from the pit. He forced down all his weight on the rearing shoulders.
‘Hurry – Ojo, hurry!’
‘I’m trying—’
In a crude piece of butchery Ojo hacked bluntly, then stabbed back and forth into the sagging throat. Blood spilt across the slab, squirting first like milk from a pulled teat, then rushing in stinking, steaming gouts. Ucheus felt the hot stickiness splashing over his hands and running around his hard, bare feet. Then Kyra’s bowels gave way. Ucheus gagged. Vomit filled his mouth and he would have broken free, but Ojo, with curses, commanded him to stay.
The slender boy screwed his face tighter, swallowing hard and struggling not to breathe as the dying heifer first kicked, then writhed, then shuddered beneath him. At last the throbbings in the neck were still. Ucheus reeled away. Smoke blinded his eyes and he felt the battering wings of birds, swooping down desperately.
‘Come back, damn you!’
‘It’s finished, isn’t it?’
‘Finished? It’s only begun!’
Ojo was right. Blankly, Ucheus stumbled back. First they turned over the hot corpse, exposing the dugs that he had milked so many times. Teat-sucker, the others had called him, but though the slender boy had minded the name, he had not minded the task. When Kyra was sick and her milk was running dry, he had indeed sucked goadingly at the rough teats, as his cousin Maius Eneo had shown him how to do, long ago on Castor-uncle’s farm. The memory had been a fond one, but all thought of his old life was terrible to Ucheus now, the merest mockery.
Ojo grabbed his spear again. ‘Hold back the legs.’
Ucheus gulped in breath, as if about to dive, while his stocky friend first gouged holes with the spear, then took his kos-knife to the soft underbelly, hacking clumsily through the stinking guts. New, more terrible waves of stench assailed them. By now both boys were covered in gore. Blood dripped from their hair, from their eyelids, from their lips and fingers; their tunics were sodden. But there was no stopping: before their work was done, they were tearing with their hands, gasping at the strength it took to rend the slithering skin, to part the hot bones.
At last the entrails were steaming on the slab; the meat burning in the pit. The birds were frenzied. Ucheus was sobbing and could barely breathe. Ojo lurched upright, clutching Kyra’s heart in his trembling hands. Exhausted, he staggered to the wall of a hundred holes.
He bit his lip, struggling for words. If Ojo had never witnessed such a ritual, still he had peered into the sacred texts; he had heard his father, and other Priests of Aroc, intoning the lessons in Sacred School. Whether what Ojo would say was even vaguely right he did not know, but after all, he barely cared. They had come this far; they must end it now. He flung himself forward, crashing painfully to his bare knees.
‘Hundred-voiced Sibyl,’ he began softly, ‘all-wise one, sister of the Sibyl of Inorchis, who is daughter of the Thunderer Aroc Inorchis, who is brother of the Thunderer Aroc Xaro – before you we come with this offering of flesh … Hear us, Sibyl of Xaro, and tell us what we ask, for you are the last chance that remains for us now … Sibyl, speak to us in your hundred voices – tell us, how will we ever be restored to Inorchis? Tell us, will the Thunderer spare us? Sibyl, how will we survive this ordeal?’
Ojo breathed heavily, Ucheus too. The birds, as if fearful, had suddenly scattered. There was no sound but for the fire, the sizzling meat, the soft wash of waves. Lying on the reddened, slippery rock, turning away from the smoke and blood and entrails, Ucheus gazed across the empty sea. How strange it was, how impossible to think that this vista of ultramarine had once been filled with an isle like this one, identical in everything, but for the towns and farms that had flourished upon its slopes! He thought again of the storm; he thought again of the Sibyl, and wondered what she could say that might help them now.
If only they had asked about Maius Eneo!
‘Uchy,’ Ojo moaned at last, ‘it’s no use—’
‘It is, it has to be!’ his friend flung back.
Ucheus was right: for now, something was stirring within the rock. When the sound began, it rose slowly above the threshold of awareness. The boys might have thought it a gust of wind, playing fleetingly over the placid sea; they might have thought it one of those deep interior groanings, those mysterious stirrings of the smoking mountain. Only when the sacrifice seemed worthless, when Ojo had laid down the stiffening heart and Ucheus, after crawling to the edge of the rock, stood poised to dive into the cleansing sea, did the song of the Sibyl come drifting around them.
Terror consumed them.
Rajal murmured, ‘That mountain’s getting closer.’
Smoky trails scudded across the sky.
‘We are, you mean.’ Littler leapt up, twirling excitedly.
‘What are you doing?’ said Rajal.
Littler, it seemed, had forgotten his orb. ‘Oh,’ he cried, ‘if only we could explore all these mysterious isles—’
He capered and cavorted.
‘Get down, idiot!’ Rajal pulled him back from the carpet’s edge. ‘Don’t worry, before all this is over, we might just explore every single Isle of Wenaya. How many did you say there were, Jem?’
But Jem was barely listening. With foreboding he gazed into the weave of the carpet, rippling beneath them on the waves of the wind. The design was one of extraordinary intricacy. There were whorls and spirals, there were peacock eyes, there were rivers and trees and shooting stars; there were mysterious figures in robes and turbans, reaching forth hands that held dazzling jewels. He traced the rays of light, stitched in azure thread, that stabbed out br
Also by David Rain
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
The Sisterhood Song
Players
The Story So Far
PART ONE: The Lost Boys
Chapter 1: A MOUNTAIN ON FIRE
Chapter 2: ULTRAMARINE
Chapter 3: A BUZZING OF FLIES
Chapter 4: GREEN MANSIONS
Chapter 5: THIS SIDE OF PARADISE
Chapter 6: FINGERS DOWN MY THROAT
Chapter 7: THE YOUNG ENCHANTED
Chapter 8: LEKI’S LIGHT
Chapter 9: THE AMALI SCREEN
Chapter 10: ZIGZAG
Chapter 11: DEAD MAN’S LOOKOUT
Chapter 12: DEEP PURPLE
Chapter 13: THE MANHOOD TRIAL
Chapter 14: LEGEND OF THE TRIURGE
Chapter 15: ORPHANS OF THE STORM
Chapter 16: THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
Chapter 17: ON THE BEACH
Chapter 18: CLOUDBURSTING
Chapter 19: THE PRINCE OF TIDES
Chapter 20: LEMONSILK TRAIN
Chapter 21: CEREMONY OF THE SWORD
Chapter 22: THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD
PART TWO: Terror of the Triurge
Chapter 23: A GAME OF CHESS
Chapter 24: DAZED AND CONFUSED
Chapter 25: ROCKS AND SAND
Chapter 26: VOICE FROM THE VORTEX
Chapter 27: THE GODDESS IN THE GARDEN SHED
Chapter 28: IN THE CLOSET
Chapter 29: A MOTHER’S LOINS
Chapter 30: AN OFFER FOR SELINDA
Chapter 31: ANOTHER OFFER FOR SELINDA
Chapter 32: BETWEEN THE ACTS
Chapter 33: THE OCLAR STATUE
Chapter 34: WHAT MAKES A MAN A MAN
Chapter 35: A PLAYER’S STAGE
Chapter 36: THE BIRDS
Chapter 37: THE RAVEN
Chapter 38: LOOK THROUGH MY WINDOW
Chapter 39: RED SMOKE OR BLUE?
Chapter 40: THE CHANNELLING
Chapter 41: TRIARCH AND TRIURGE
PART THREE: The Old Man of the Island
Chapter 42: DEAD MAN OVER ALL
Chapter 43: THE TERRIBLE COLONNADES
Chapter 44: THE BEAUTIFUL AND DAMNED
Chapter 45: THE BARNACLED BANQUET
Chapter 46: PLAYING FOR TIME
Chapter 47: THE FLYING ZENZAN
Chapter 48: AMBORA ROCK
Chapter 49: THE VORTEX
Chapter 50: ALL THE CONSPIRATORS
Chapter 51: STROKE! STROKE!
Chapter 52: FOOTPRINT IN THE SAND
Chapter 53: THE LANCING OF A BOIL
Chapter 54: THE FIRE SERMON
Chapter 55: AFTER THE RAIN
PART FOUR: Into the Storm
Chapter 56: DEATH BY WATER
Chapter 57: SHABBY ISLAND
Chapter 58: THE AUCTION
Chapter 59: A SEA CHANGE
Chapter 60: HEART OF DARKNESS
Chapter 61: STRANGE MEETING
Chapter 62: ALBATROSS
Chapter 63: MIDNIGHT VOYAGE
Chapter 64: TO THE WILD SKY
PART FIVE: The Briny Citadel
Chapter 65: RETURN OF THE NATIVE
Chapter 66: LOOKING-GLASS LABYRINTH
Chapter 67: THE BLUE SKYSHIP
Chapter 68: SAFE IN MY GARDEN
Chapter 69: THE SPIDER’S WEB
Chapter 70: TENDER IS THE NIGHT
Chapter 71: THE TIGER IN THE SMOKE
Chapter 72: UNDER THE VOLCANO
Chapter 73: THE FIFTH ELEMENT
Chapter 74: WHAT THE THUNDER SAID
Chapter 75: THE SHADOW LINE
Chapter 76: SEA BURIAL
JEM, the hero, seeker after the Orokon
RAJAL, loyal friend to Jem; fellow seeker
LITTLER, their small companion
CAPTAIN PORLO, a pirate, master of the Catayane
PATCHES, his long-suffering cabin boy
SELINDA, a noble lady of the Isle of Hora
MAIUS ENEO, beloved of Selinda
RA FANANA, a nurse; slave to Selinda
TAGAN, a eunuch; also slave to Selinda
LEKI, who is nothing like Tagan
UCHEUS, who is nothing like Leki
OJO, who is nothing like Ucheus
JODRELL, father to Selinda; a Triarch of Hora
FAHAN and AZANDER, his fellow Triarchs
PRINCE LEPATO, suitor to Selinda (Innerman)
LORD GLOND, suitor to Selinda (Outrealmer)
BLARD and MENOS, drug-abusing sentries on Hora
CHIEF ADEK, of whom they go in fear
MARGITES of the Sea Vagas, a travelling player
Other PLAYERS in The Javandiom
SAXIS, who is either a philosopher or a sorcerer
The SEA OUABIN, a notorious corsair, master of the Death Flame
SCURVY, a crook-backed dwarf; his familiar
VERNEY, former trusted associate of the Sea Ouabin
YOUNG LACANI, an old man; slave on the Death Flame
BONES and PANCHO, also slaves on the Death Flame
ROBANDER SELSOE, the celebrated castaway
WHALE, fat first mate on the Catayane
WALRUS, buck-toothed boatswain on the Catayane
PORPOISE, slithery helmsman on the Catayane
SEA-SNAKE, well-endowed cook on the Catayane
ALAM, a survivor from the Death Flame
MAIUS CASTOR (‘CASTOR-UNCLE’), father to Maius Eneo
MYLA, Rajal’s missing sister; a child of great magic
SHIA MILANDROS, a bitchy young girl
FAZY VINA, ditto; her best friend
FATHERS to Shia Milandros and Fazy Vina
KOFU, the unman who tended Ojo
ARD IRED, the unman who tended Ucheus
GOODY PALMER and her FIVE DAUGHTERS
The BLISHA DOLL, much-abused doll of Selinda’s late mother
PAREUS ENEO, Dynast of Aroc
PRIESTS OF AROC, their religious leaders
The GATHERING OF THIRTY, rulers of Hora
KEEPERS OF THE LAW on Hora
The AUCTIONEER on Shaba Lalia
GUARDS, SLAVES, SAILORS, MERCHANTS, HARLOTS,
ISLANDERS OF NUMEROUS ISLANDS,
STREET-CHILDREN, CANNIBALS
&c.
SOME IMPORTANT PEOPLE, PRESENTLY OFF-STAGE:
CATA, the heroine; beloved of Jem
POLTY (POLTISS VEELDROP), his implacable enemy
BEAN (ARON THROSH), accomplice of Polty, beloved of Rajal
LADY UMBECCA VEELDROP, evil great-aunt to Jem and Cata
NIRRY, her runaway servant; staunch friend to Jem and Cata
EAY FEVAL, friend and spiritual advisor to Umbecca
CONSTANSIA CHAM-CHARING, former great society hostess
TISHY CHAM-CHARING, her unmarriageable daughter
SILAS WOLVERON, father to Cata; not really dead
BARNABAS, a magical dwarf; certainly not dead
LORD EMPSTER, Jem’s treacherous guardian: see also AGONIS
TRANIMEL, Ejland’s evil First Minister: see also TOTH-VEXRAH
EJARD BLUEJACKET, unrightful King of Ejland
QUEEN JELICA, his wife, the former Miss Jelica Vance
‘BOB SCARLET’, highwayman and rebel leader
HUL, his deputy; once a great scholar
BANDO, friend to Hul; veteran rebel
RAGGLE and TAGGLE, sons to Bando
LANDA, a beautiful young Zenzan Priestess
BAINES, also known as the ‘One-Eyed Beauty’
GOODMAN OLCH (‘WIGGLER’), husband to Nirry
MORVEN and CRUM
Various other OLD FRIENDS, ENEMIES
&c.
VARIOUS DEAD PEOPLE:
ADRI, a scrawny and nervous youth
NICANDER, known as ‘childlike Nicander’
INFIN IJAS, a dreamy youth whose eyesight was poor
ZAP, a bit of jester, said to be ‘boneheaded’
JUROS IKO and JENAS IKO, twins and singers
LEMYU, a sailor in a stripy shirt
CAPTAIN BEEZER, formerly master of the Catayane
SULTAN KALED, formerly ruler of Unang Lia
RADENINE, son to the Dynast Pareus Eneo
ANIANI, a young maiden; his beloved
BELROND, her father
TRIARCH SPEKO, maternal great-father to Selinda
WILEY WAN WO, steward of Castle Glond
MANI, daughter of Wiley Wan Wo
BLACKMOON, sometime companion to Robander Selsoe
SELINDA’S MOTHER, former abuser of the Blisha doll
SCHUVART and HANDYN, the great composers
THELL, ancient author of The Javandiom
VICTIMS of the Sisterhood of the Blue Storm
VICTIMS of the Triurge
&c.
ANIMALS OF VARIOUS SORTS:
RAINBOW, a most remarkable dog
BUBY the monkey
The BLUE RAVEN
KYRA, an unfortunate heifer
EJARD ORANGE, a marmalade cat
BOLLOCKS, a marmalade cat
PUSS, a marmalade cat
The OXEN OF THE MOON
The ORCHESTRA AQUATIC, in Javander’s palace
TAXIDERMISED BIRDS and MOTHS UNDER GLASS
Numerous FISH, both dead and living
PONIES, MULES, SERPENTS,
RATS, FLIES, FLEAS, LICE
&c.
GODS AND STRANGE BEINGS:
OROK, Ur-God, father of the gods
KOROS, god of darkness, worshipped by the Vagas (purple)
VIANA, goddess of earth, worshipped in Zenzau (green)
THERON, god of fire, worshipped in Unang-Lia (red)
JAVANDER, goddess of water, once worshipped in Wenaya (blue)
AGONIS, god of air, worshipped in Ejland (gold)
TOTH-VEXRAH, the evil anti-god
The LADY IMAGENTA, his mysterious daughter
AMAS, son to Javander, Prince of Rocks (purple)
EON, son to Javander, Prince of Winds (green)
ISOL, son to Javander, Prince of Shells (red)
OCLAR, son to Javander, Prince of Tides (blue)
UVAN, son to Javander, Prince of Sands (gold)
The SPIDERMOTHER, leader of the Sisterhood of the Blue Storm
WEBSISTERS of the Sisterhood of the Blue Storm
The SIBYL OF XARO, a wall full of holes
The SIBYL OF INORCHIS, another one just like it
The THUNDERER AROC XARO, a mystical volcano
The THUNDERER AROC INORCHIS, another one just like it
The TRIURGE, a terrifying metamorphic land-monster
The MANDRU, a terrifying metamorphic sea-monster
KALADOR, beguiling alter-ego of the Mandru
The FLYING ZENZAN, a haunted ship
ABORTIONS writhing on Theron’s floor
The HARLEQUIN
Other CREATURES OF EVIL
&c.
Like hundreds upon hundreds of bright flowers, flung carelessly across the surface of the sea, the Isles of Wenaya stretch away from the mainland of El-Orok in a great ragged arc. Quite where the isles end is a mystery, at least to the sailors of El-Orok – Ejlanders, Zenzans and Unangs alike. Some say another continent lies beyond, of an extent even greater than their own; some say that where the isles end, the earth ends too, with the sea sizzling away into a fiery trench. There is talk of fish-people, monstrous sea-serpents, and much worse besides. Superstition, no doubt; but even on the many-sailed ships of Ejland, mightiest of the nations of El-Orok, tarry fellows are known to quail as they venture deeper and ever deeper into the watery labyrinths of Wenaya. The isles, and the seas in which they lie, are feared as places of dark magic.
So Prince Jemany had read in books of travels, long ago during languid days in Lord Empster’s library. Back then in Agondon, Jem would have found it hard to imagine that he would ever come to these isles – let alone on a magic carpet.
Sighing, he stretched out on the hot fabric, shutting his eyes against the sharp morning light. Incense rose from the soft wool. How luxuriously he had passed the night, sunk in these fragrant hollows! Embraced in the genie’s magic, he had felt no fear. Now, he was certain, the magic was dispersing. But might it not last just a little longer?
Warm winds rippled through his dishevelled blond hair and once again he felt himself, not quite unwillingly, drifting back into sleep. Lightly he circled Rainbow with a protective arm. The stripy dog lay panting, blinking, his head on his paws, his new silver collar flashing brightly. The collar had been a gift from Princess Bela Dona, the strange, beautiful girl Jem and his companions had befriended in Unang Lia. The Princess had assured them that the collar had magical powers. But the magic, if magic there were, had yet to manifest itself.
Dreamily Jem listened to Rajal’s voice, and Littler’s. They were wondering just when the carpet would land.
It was a good question.
‘Can you see anything, Littler?’ Rajal was saying.
Cross-legged, hunching over, Littler stared into the Orb of Seeing, his own mysterious gift from Princess Bela Dona. The young Unang boy was hardly interested at all in the real scene passing below; with his gleaming new talisman, he endeavoured instead to see their destination. Wenaya, yes – but where?
When Jafir the genie had set the carpet in motion, Jem and his companions had simply been glad to be on their way with all speed. They had given little thought to how their journey might end.
Now, they were beginning to wonder if Jafir had either.
Littler strained his eyes into the orb. Princess Bela Dona had not actually explained to him how to use it – if, that is, she had known. Was there, perhaps, some special way of looking? Blue reflections shifted in the rounded glass.
‘Something,’ he murmured, ‘some kind of … blue—’
‘That’s the sky, you idiot!’ said Rajal. ‘Give me a look—’
‘Hands off! The orb’s mine—’
‘Well, look harder.’ Impatiently the Vaga-youth toyed with his own talisman, the Amulet of Tukhat that he now wore round his wrist Could it really protect him from harm? If so, he thought ruefully, it would have quite a task, judging by his past experiences. In Unang Lia, he had come close to death – and to things, perhaps, still worse than death. He shook his dark-haired head, as if to banish painful thoughts.
He did not quite succeed.
‘We must land soon, mustn’t we?’ he said impatiently.
‘Yes,’ said Littler. ‘But where?’
Deep in the jungle, heat hovers like a mysterious menace. Moisture coils up steamily from the earth and drips back down from curling, riotous leaves, from clustering flowers and speckled, huge-capped toadstools. Sunlight, even in the brightness of morning, glimmers and fractures through the lattices of green.
There were sounds of crashing. Then came voices.
‘It’s our last chance.’ It was a boy who spoke.
‘Didn’t you say we’d had that already?’ said another, leading a protesting heifer.
‘We’re alive, aren’t we? Uchy, don’t be such a follyface.’
‘Me, a follyface? Ojo, what about Leki?’
‘He’s more than a follyface, he’s a madmaster.’
‘That’s not what I mean – I mean, what will he say when he finds out what we’ve done?’
There were two of them, both aged perhaps fourteen or fifteen orbits. Ojo, the one in front, was thickset, stocky; Ucheus, who tugged at the heifer’s rope, was slender, almost delicate. Both boys had skin the colour of bronze and dark, unkempt hair, Ojo’s a shock of ragged curls, his companion’s a crudely hacked mass of spikes. Downy growth furred their upper lips and their limbs were webbed with scratches. They were dirty and the tunics they wore, though once ornate, had long been reduced to rags. They struggled uphill through the enveloping jungle.
Ojo said, ‘Leki should be glad that someone’s taken charge.’
‘Leki thinks he’s in charge,’ Ucheus said doubtfully.
‘Yes, and look at the mess we’re in.’
It was difficult to argue. Ucheus set his mouth and followed in silence for some moments, pausing from time to time to tug, always a little harder, at the rope around the sickly heifer’s neck. How he hated to look into her big, sad eyes! He hoped he could avoid those eyes when Ojo cut her throat – at least, he hoped it would be Ojo who cut her throat. Ucheus might have spent more time on Castor-uncle’s farm, but after all, it was Ojo whose father was a Priest of Aroc.
If only it were over. ‘Kyra, come on!’
Ojo rolled his eyes. ‘Follyface, did you have to give her a name?’
‘I give all the animals names. Didn’t you learn anything in Sacred School, Ojo? A name’s a charm against evil.’
‘Doesn’t work then, does it?’
‘Not for Kyra, I suppose.’
‘Nor for us.’
‘What?’
‘We all had names. And we’re dead.’
‘Not all of us,’ said Ucheus. ‘We’re alive, you said so before.’
Ojo pushed between sticky vines. ‘And seven of us aren’t.’
‘Seven? No, Ojo – six.’
‘Maius Eneo? You don’t still wish you’d gone with him, do you?’
Ucheus said glumly, ‘Of course I do!’
His friend’s reply was brutal. ‘Maius Eneo’s drowned, Uchy – drowned on the first day. Leki’s right about that much, at least.’
‘Leki? You said he was a madmaster!’
‘Not about this – face it, Uchy!’
The slender youth cast down his eyes. How could Ojo speak this way? Wasn’t it bad luck even to utter such doubts? In the end, if only one of them lived, it had to be Maius Eneo – dear, marvellous Maius Eneo … no, he could never have died at sea. Hadn’t he been the best swimmer of them all – hadn’t he been the best of them at everything? To be sure, Maius Eneo would reach the Isle of Hora, he would bring help – why, even now he might be on his way back!
Anger welled in Ucheus and he wished he had the nerve to fling himself forward, wrestling Ojo to the ground, making him take back the stupid thing he had said.
But they could hardly fight amongst themselves, could they? Not now.
There was an ominous rumbling beneath their feet.
‘The Thunderer’s angry with us,’ Ucheus murmured.
Quickly, with no more words, the boys clambered through the tangled shadows, making their way towards the Plateau of Voices.
Kyra tugged at her rope.
‘The Crystal of Javander?’ Littler murmured.
Rajal’s voice was wry. ‘That’s what I said. Just look for that, hm – save us a lot of time. Say, you don’t think Jafir’s spell will take us right there, do you – land us right on top of the blue crystal?’
Littler, concentrating on the orb, did not reply.
Miserably, Rajal looked around him. How tired he was of the magic carpet – tired of the billowing fabric beneath them, that was barely big enough to contain them all; tired of the wind in their faces and hair; tired of being cramped, hot, and hungry … Very hungry, by now.
Ruefully reaching into a pocket, Rajal drew forth the bag of gold that Fish had thrust into his hand, just before their journey began. Good old Fish! Hearty meals, many of them, were easily within their reach – if only they could find a nice comfortable tavern.
Some chance.
It had been at dusk, the evening before, when they had left behind the hot desert wastes. In the night, the scene beneath had been a watery shimmer, scattered with dark humps of islands and faintly, here and there, with a flicker of fire. Now it was a brilliant shade of ultramarine, sparkling as if with scattered diamonds. For some time there had been no islands. Had they gone beyond the Waters of Wenaya? Rajal peered cautiously over the carpet’s tasselled edge. In one direction there were only open seas – then he turned his head and saw clouds of smoke.
He jerked upright. ‘Look!’
‘Wh-what?’ Jem started awake.
‘Hey! Don’t rock the carpet!’ Littler protested, grabbing the orb before it rolled over the side.
Rajal pointed. ‘That mountain – it’s on fire!’
They turned their heads. A smoky trail scudded across the sky, issuing from the apex of a high, wooded island. The island was still far away, and there was no other land in sight.
Jem yawned, stretching. ‘Raj, it’s only a volcano.’
‘A what?’ said Rajal. ‘Jem, when have you ever seen a mountain like that?’
‘Well, in a picture,’ Jem admitted. ‘It smokes, that’s all.’
‘Like a tobarillo?’ Rajal said dubiously. ‘But why?’
‘Explodes too, doesn’t it?’ said Littler. ‘Well, sometimes – I’ll look in the orb.’
‘I’ll throw that thing overboard in a moment,’ said Rajal. ‘It doesn’t work, anyway.’
‘Of course it works,’ said Littler. Shifting on to his haunches, he stared into the glass again. ‘It just hasn’t yet.’
Rajal rolled his eyes. ‘How is it,’ he wondered, ‘that a genie who can send us soaring across the sky, across half the world, couldn’t stop one little brat – not to mention his dog – from clambering up beside us? How are we going to be able to find the Crystal of Javander, if we’re worrying all the time about this pest?’
‘Littler’s been a good friend,’ said Jem.
‘He’s a baby – and he’s brought his dog with him!’
Littler’s eyes flashed. In his short but turbulent life he had endured insults worse than these. He was not afraid of Rajal. ‘I’m not the one who doesn’t even know what a volcano is,’ he sniffed. ‘Jem, I helped you out in the dreaming dimension, didn’t I? I’ll bet I’ve got out of more scrapes than the pair of you put together. I’ve been a thief for as long as I can remember, I think fast, I’m quick on my feet – and now,’ he added proudly, ‘I’ve got a magic orb. You’ll see, I’ll be worth my weight in gold.’
Rajal weighed the bag of gold in his hand. ‘Jem, how much do you think Littler weighs?’ he said mischievously.
Jem ignored him. ‘I’m sure you will, Littler. Rainbow too, hm?’
Smiling, he fluffed the dog’s stripy fur. Whether Littler and his colourful friend would help or hinder them was neither here nor there. There was no turning back. The four of them were together now, and heading into danger.
‘Follyface, careful of that spear—’
‘It’s my eyes, I’m dazzled—’
Ojo and Ucheus were standing on the Plateau of Voices. In truth, it was not so much a plateau as the merest rocky shelf, jutting above a sea the colour of ultramarine. Ucheus set down his spear, but still held tightly to Kyra’s rope. He screwed up his face and shielded his eyes. Far above, he was aware of smoke from the volcanic summit of the island, drifting slowly in the cloudless sky. Below, the sea foamed gently against the rocks.
‘On a morning like this,’ he murmured, ‘it’s hard to believe we ever had the Blue Storm.’
‘Look at us now,’ Ojo said bitterly. ‘Doesn’t that tell you the storm was real?
Ucheus supposed it did. Only a moonlife had passed since the night of the storm, but already the time before seemed sundered from them as if by an abyss of years. What terrible magic that night had wrought! He gazed over the sea, thinking again of the wild whipping winds, the flashing blue lights that had taken Inorchis, their companion island. ‘Sometimes I wonder if it’s still there – still there, only we can’t see it.’
‘What? The storm?’
‘Inorchis, of course. What else?’
Ucheus sighed, then so did Ojo, saddened by even the name of their lost home. With a resigned air the stocky youth took Kyra’s rope, tethering her to a rock by the sacrificial slab. ‘Uchy,’ he said, more kindly than before, ‘why don’t you get some branches for the fire? Leki could well be awake by now. If he sees that Kyra’s gone, he might guess what we’re doing – hm?’
They worked in silence, tearing at the dry, salty vegetation that sprouted from cracks in the rocky shelf. Beside the slab was a shallow pit, blackened with traces of innumerable fires that sun and wind had yet to blanch away. When they had filled the pit, Ojo dug the fire-lens from a pocket of his tunic. He stood splay-footed over the branches and leaves. Focusing the sun’s rays, his face twisted in concentration as if it were his mind and not the brightness above that would set the pit to burn.
Kyra lowed piteously, as if she knew what the fire was for. But she was too weak to resist now, wasn’t she? Ucheus gulped, avoiding the sight of her face with its blinking, huge, sad eyes.
Beyond the slab, gaping impassively, were the hundred mouths of the Sibyl, or rather a hundred holes in a sheer wall of rock, the largest perhaps the size of a man’s head. Not for the first time, Ucheus trembled in the presence of these holes, so dark, so ominous against the sun-drenched plateau. Some said the holes reached far beneath the sea, perhaps into the very depths of the world.
The leaves began to smoulder; Ojo slipped the fire-lens into his pocket again. The two boys exchanged glances. Ojo gulped. Could he really go through with this? Priest of Aroc his father may have been, but what did that matter? Neither boy had seen a sacrifice before, let alone officiated at one. On Inorchis, only those who had passed the Manhood Trial had been permitted even to witness such acts. But Ojo knew he must take the lead. If Ucheus placed his faith only in Maius Eneo, Ojo would show him … yes, he would show him!
He picked up his spear. Kyra scrambled back.
Ucheus said quickly, ‘Not the spear, Ojo.’
‘You’re right.’ Hanging from Ojo’s belt was his kos-knife, the only one that remained to the three who were left. Ucheus had lost his long ago; Leki’s had snapped against a sow’s breastbone; whatever had killed their six companions had been careful to leave no weapons behind. Ojo gripped the flattened, cracking handle, testing the blade against his thumb.
Dull, but it would have to do.
‘Hold her, Uchy.’
Through what followed, Ucheus tried to keep his eyes closed. If only he could have blocked his ears, too – and his nose! He had killed pigs and rabbits, but this was worse, much worse: this was Kyra. Flinching, he heard her desperate squeals; he felt her violent thrashings, convulsing up through his rigid arms. The stench of fear rose hotly all around him, mingling with the acrid smoke from the pit. He forced down all his weight on the rearing shoulders.
‘Hurry – Ojo, hurry!’
‘I’m trying—’
In a crude piece of butchery Ojo hacked bluntly, then stabbed back and forth into the sagging throat. Blood spilt across the slab, squirting first like milk from a pulled teat, then rushing in stinking, steaming gouts. Ucheus felt the hot stickiness splashing over his hands and running around his hard, bare feet. Then Kyra’s bowels gave way. Ucheus gagged. Vomit filled his mouth and he would have broken free, but Ojo, with curses, commanded him to stay.
The slender boy screwed his face tighter, swallowing hard and struggling not to breathe as the dying heifer first kicked, then writhed, then shuddered beneath him. At last the throbbings in the neck were still. Ucheus reeled away. Smoke blinded his eyes and he felt the battering wings of birds, swooping down desperately.
‘Come back, damn you!’
‘It’s finished, isn’t it?’
‘Finished? It’s only begun!’
Ojo was right. Blankly, Ucheus stumbled back. First they turned over the hot corpse, exposing the dugs that he had milked so many times. Teat-sucker, the others had called him, but though the slender boy had minded the name, he had not minded the task. When Kyra was sick and her milk was running dry, he had indeed sucked goadingly at the rough teats, as his cousin Maius Eneo had shown him how to do, long ago on Castor-uncle’s farm. The memory had been a fond one, but all thought of his old life was terrible to Ucheus now, the merest mockery.
Ojo grabbed his spear again. ‘Hold back the legs.’
Ucheus gulped in breath, as if about to dive, while his stocky friend first gouged holes with the spear, then took his kos-knife to the soft underbelly, hacking clumsily through the stinking guts. New, more terrible waves of stench assailed them. By now both boys were covered in gore. Blood dripped from their hair, from their eyelids, from their lips and fingers; their tunics were sodden. But there was no stopping: before their work was done, they were tearing with their hands, gasping at the strength it took to rend the slithering skin, to part the hot bones.
At last the entrails were steaming on the slab; the meat burning in the pit. The birds were frenzied. Ucheus was sobbing and could barely breathe. Ojo lurched upright, clutching Kyra’s heart in his trembling hands. Exhausted, he staggered to the wall of a hundred holes.
He bit his lip, struggling for words. If Ojo had never witnessed such a ritual, still he had peered into the sacred texts; he had heard his father, and other Priests of Aroc, intoning the lessons in Sacred School. Whether what Ojo would say was even vaguely right he did not know, but after all, he barely cared. They had come this far; they must end it now. He flung himself forward, crashing painfully to his bare knees.
‘Hundred-voiced Sibyl,’ he began softly, ‘all-wise one, sister of the Sibyl of Inorchis, who is daughter of the Thunderer Aroc Inorchis, who is brother of the Thunderer Aroc Xaro – before you we come with this offering of flesh … Hear us, Sibyl of Xaro, and tell us what we ask, for you are the last chance that remains for us now … Sibyl, speak to us in your hundred voices – tell us, how will we ever be restored to Inorchis? Tell us, will the Thunderer spare us? Sibyl, how will we survive this ordeal?’
Ojo breathed heavily, Ucheus too. The birds, as if fearful, had suddenly scattered. There was no sound but for the fire, the sizzling meat, the soft wash of waves. Lying on the reddened, slippery rock, turning away from the smoke and blood and entrails, Ucheus gazed across the empty sea. How strange it was, how impossible to think that this vista of ultramarine had once been filled with an isle like this one, identical in everything, but for the towns and farms that had flourished upon its slopes! He thought again of the storm; he thought again of the Sibyl, and wondered what she could say that might help them now.
If only they had asked about Maius Eneo!
‘Uchy,’ Ojo moaned at last, ‘it’s no use—’
‘It is, it has to be!’ his friend flung back.
Ucheus was right: for now, something was stirring within the rock. When the sound began, it rose slowly above the threshold of awareness. The boys might have thought it a gust of wind, playing fleetingly over the placid sea; they might have thought it one of those deep interior groanings, those mysterious stirrings of the smoking mountain. Only when the sacrifice seemed worthless, when Ojo had laid down the stiffening heart and Ucheus, after crawling to the edge of the rock, stood poised to dive into the cleansing sea, did the song of the Sibyl come drifting around them.
Terror consumed them.
Rajal murmured, ‘That mountain’s getting closer.’
Smoky trails scudded across the sky.
‘We are, you mean.’ Littler leapt up, twirling excitedly.
‘What are you doing?’ said Rajal.
Littler, it seemed, had forgotten his orb. ‘Oh,’ he cried, ‘if only we could explore all these mysterious isles—’
He capered and cavorted.
‘Get down, idiot!’ Rajal pulled him back from the carpet’s edge. ‘Don’t worry, before all this is over, we might just explore every single Isle of Wenaya. How many did you say there were, Jem?’
But Jem was barely listening. With foreboding he gazed into the weave of the carpet, rippling beneath them on the waves of the wind. The design was one of extraordinary intricacy. There were whorls and spirals, there were peacock eyes, there were rivers and trees and shooting stars; there were mysterious figures in robes and turbans, reaching forth hands that held dazzling jewels. He traced the rays of light, stitched in azure thread, that stabbed out br
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