The Crippled God

Now, please inform your soldiers. One more march.’
    ‘To reach salvation,’ said the Adjunct.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Very well, Nom Kala.’
    The T’lan Imass bowed to them both, turned and then strode back into the camp.
    When she was gone, the Adjunct sighed. ‘In your obviously long life, Captain, did you ever throw dice with a T’lan Imass?’
    ‘No, and I used to think that wisdom on my part.’
    ‘And now?’
    Ruthan Gudd shook his head. ‘They are terrible liars.’
    ‘Still,’ she said under her breath, ‘I appreciate the effort.’
    ‘We don’t need it, Adjunct. To keep us all going – we don’t need it.’
    ‘We don’t?’
    ‘No.’ And he pointed to Badalle and Saddic. ‘I will go among the troops this day, Adjunct, for I have a story to tell. Two children, a sack of toys.’
    She eyed him. ‘These children?’
    He nodded. ‘These children.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
     
Down on the strand where the sea meets the land
Where fishermen kneel over wounds that won’t heal
And the water weeps at the end of the day
     
In the mirror you walk away
     
Among the red trees and the long dead leaves
The axeman wanders but cannot remember
And the earth runs like tears and will not stay
     
In the mirror you walk away
     
In the silent season high on the hill’s bastion
In the burning rain and the soul’s dark stain
Where the children lie where they lay
     
In the mirror you walk away
     
Along the furrows of his heels a long shadow steals
Down from the altar pulled all the destinies fulfilled
Tell the tale another god has had his day
     
And in the mirror you walk away
     
When on the grey fields the troubles fall still
Another soldier’s cause dies for what never was
Drifting past the dreams now gone astray
     
In the mirror you walk away
     
Soiled the sacrament and broken the monument
Sullied the sculpture and soured the rapture
Beauty lives but brief its stay
     
And in the mirror you walk away
Gods will give and then take away
If faith tastes of blood
drink deep when you pray
Beauty lives but brief its stay
And when it all goes away
and there’s nothing left to save
In the mirror you walk away
In the mirror you walk away
     
    Song of the Last Prayer
    (in the age of adjudication)
    Sevul of Kolanse
     
    HE FELT THE NUDGE AND IMAGINED HIMSELF IN THE HOLD OF A SHIP , rolling in heavy swells. When the nudge came a second time, he thought of drunken nights, sprawled beneath a table with someone’s booted foot thudding against him. With the third nudge – harder this time, delivered with irritation or impatience – he muttered a curse. But something had gummed together his lips, so the word came out as a moan .
    He decided it was time to open his eyes .
    That too proved a struggle, lids pulling apart as if glued, stinging viciously once he blinked his way clear. Gloom, blurred shapes, something like a face hovering over him. The air smelled of decay. The taste in his mouth was of old, old blood. And something else. Bitter. It was, he decided, the taste of failure .
    ‘ Get up .’
    Another figure, now kneeling beside him. A soft hand pressing against the side of his face – but his beard was stiff and it crackled under the palm, and the hand slipped away. Only to come back, hard enough to rock his head .
    And a woman said, ‘We don’t have time for this. The door’s open. Some people round here got a feel for things like that .’
    The first speaker said, ‘Poison’s gone inert. Long ago. But he ain’t moved in a while .’
    ‘ The guardian should’ve —’
    ‘ Off wandering the warrens, is my guess. Lucky us .’
    ‘ Just help him to his feet, will you? ’
    Hands under his arms, a grunt, and he felt himself leave the stone floor except for his heels. Sudden pain in his lower back and his legs as they tried to take his weight. He couldn’t remember being this heavy – was he ever this heavy?
    ‘ Stand up, damn you – I can’t hold you up long .’
    ‘ How do you think I felt?’ the woman asked beside him. ‘He made all my bones creak .’
    He swore at the sharp stabs lancing out from his legs, tottered —
    ‘ There, back a step – lean against the wall. Good, like that. Now look at me, idiot. Look at me like you know me .’
    It was dark, but he could make out the man’s face now. Studied the eyes fixing on his own, and frowned .
    ‘ What’s my name?’ the man demanded .
    He worked until he had some spit in his mouth, pushed with his tongue to force open his lips. ‘I know