“So … who is she?” asked Sylas, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Well, now we’re getting to it!” said Paiscion with a smile. “No one really knows where she hails from, but she’s been around at least as long as Thoth himself. They say she’s young and beautiful in appearance – and kind, unwaveringly kind – Thoth’s nemesis, if you like. Although she never takes sides – she doesn’t involve herself in the ugliness of the world.”
Sylas frowned. “If she doesn’t get involved, how can she be so good? Why’s she so important?”
“She may not interfere, but that’s not to say that she isn’t at the centre of our lives. There’s something that has always drawn people to Isia – something deeper and more important than our daily lives, than our skirmishes and battles, even the Undoing.”
“So she’s a leader or … what, some kind of … god?”
Paiscion shrugged. “Some people believe that, yes. She certainly has unique insights into the human soul. Much has been made of her teachings, her predictions, her pronouncements. I daresay you will find many of them in the Samarok. She has extraordinary vision.”
“So she sees … like a Scryer sees?”
Paiscion shook his head. “Like a thousand Scryers who never sleep. They say she sees further than the four horizons and deeper than thought or feeling.”
“And you think she knows about the Glimmer Myth?”
“Well, you read the song in that book of yours,” said Paiscion, nodding to Sylas’s bag. “She knows about the Glimmer Myth, certainly. And about your place in it? Quite probably.”
“And you think she’ll speak to me?”
Paiscion laughed. “Sylas, you’re a boy from another world, one half of a reunited soul and the fulfilment of the Glimmer Myth. She won’t be able to resist you.”
(#ulink_5d2b4e33-6aa8-579f-a69e-80f69a24ac84)
“Twelve priests bound bydutyto their king, and to each of them, three indentured Magrumen. This is all it took to bring the world to ruin.”
FILIMAYA’S EYES SPARKLED LIKE jewels of the forest.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.
Naeo climbed the bank and stepped up to Filimaya’s side. Below, scores of little streams and rivulets wove their way across the forest floor, twisting and turning, rolling and leaping. At the base of the slope they joined the still waters of the lake amidst a great muddle of bubbles and spray, which sent a pleasant mist back up the bank and laced everything in a glistening dew.
“This is what we tried to recreate at the Meander Mill,” said Filimaya. “Did you hear of our Water Gardens?”
Naeo shook her head. They sounded familiar, but she had no idea why.
“Ah well,” said Filimaya, “they’re gone now, like so much else. And so this is it: our last retreat, our patch of things.”
“There are still plenty of us in the slums,” said Naeo, picking up a stick and poking at the bank. “And in the Dirgheon.”
“Yes, there are, but that’s no way to live,” said Filimaya with a sigh. “It sometimes feels as though we are clinging on to this world, doesn’t it? As if we might lose our place in it altogether.”
“Well, that’s just what he wants, isn’t it?” muttered Naeo, swiping the tip of the stick into the nearest stream.
“Yes. Indeed,” said Filimaya wistfully.
She stepped over the torrent and began making her way across the labyrinth of rivulets. After a few steps she stopped and looked back at Naeo. “But that’s part of what makes Sylas so exciting, so hopeful, isn’t it? Like the Bringers before him, he brings us a promise of a world without Thoth, without the Undoing, without all the suffering our people have endured.”
Naeo stepped out to follow. She sensed where this conversation was heading. “I suppose, but that still doesn’t make me want to go to his world.”
“Really? You’re not the least bit curious? A world without Thoth, where you’re entirely free? Like everyone else?”
Naeo shrugged.
“A place without Essenfayle or the Three Ways, where summer is winter and night is day? Where people drive carriages without horses and light torches without flames; where they fly—”
“No! I’m not interested!” snapped Naeo, drawing up sharply. “I don’t care about any of that! My father is still here! And – and worse than that – he’s in the Dirgheon, probably half dead or … or worse.” She paused, her heart thumping and her eyes burning. “And it’s my fault!”
It was a huge relief to say it. She had thought about little else since her escape.
It was her fault. Her fault.
The memories came in flashes: stark and clear. There he was, chained to a stone table, covered in sweat and blood, arching with pain whenever his tormentor drew near, screaming until his voice trailed away. She remembered the few quiet moments, those precious moments of reprieve when Thoth would write, or take up his cello, or even leave the room, when her father would turn to her with those large green eyes.
How she loved those eyes.
And in that generous gaze she had felt him saying it would all be all right, felt his strength, his warmth. But she had seen the tears trickling on to the stone. And she had known their meaning. She had seen the despair in those tears.
And what had she done? She had left him behind, she had taken flight, rising on the magical winds above the pyramid. She had seen him there, on the pinnacle. Her beautiful, strong father, raising his bloodied hand to wave them away. And above him, that murderous figure in crimson robes, that empty, merciless face.
Then she had turned in the night sky, and fled.
She pressed her eyes closed and tried to hold that final moment in her mind. When it became too much, a sob escaped her lips.
An arm curled around her shoulders and drew her close. She pushed away at first: she didn’t want to give in to it – she had to be strong. And she didn’t deserve comfort – where was her father’s comfort? But there was something about Filimaya’s presence that caught her off guard, that made her feel safe. It was almost as though, in some small way, Filimaya brought her father closer.
So she didn’t fight any more.
They stood for some time surrounded by the streams, neither of them speaking: Filimaya holding her, Naeo with her arms at her sides.
“It’s not your fault, you know,” said Filimaya, finally.
Naeo shook her head. “Thoth wouldn’t even care about my father if it wasn’t for me. I should be trying to find him.” She pulled away and looked up at Filimaya. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, not to anyone else. I mean, Espasian and I brought Sylas here so that we could change things, so that he and I might do something important. But the thing is –” her voice broke but she forced herself to finish – “the thing is, whenever I pictured a better world, a world after the Undoing – a world without Thoth – I always pictured seeing it with my dad. I think I did some of this – all of it, maybe – for him. To be with him – safe and free.”
Filimaya drew some strands of blonde hair from Naeo’s face. “I do understand,” she said. “We often say that we would move mountains for those we love. In your case, you have the chance to do exactly that: you have the chance to change the world.” She held out her hand to lead Naeo across the next stream. “Tell me, what do you know about Sylas and his mother?”
Naeo shrugged. “I know she’s in hospital – a place run by the Merisi. And I know that she has something to do with this world.”
“That’s all true,” said Filimaya, stepping on a stone in the middle of a stream. “But you are talking about Sylas’s mother. My question is, what do you know of her and Sylas?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, do you know that Sylas thought her dead for many years, just as your father thought he had lost you?”
Naeo shook her head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Did you know that she suffered the most appalling dreams and nightmares, so that people thought she was mad? That Sylas had to watch her suffering, and that finally he saw her drugged and taken away?”
