Seven Sorcerers(124)

Lavanyia listened in silence, and the morning shadows grew smaller.

“As we were Diminished by Zyung, so was Zyung diminished by his creation,” Sungui said. “The greater his empire grew, the more it defined him. He was the Conqueror, the Almighty, the High Lord Celestial. Yet he built a vision so powerful that it trapped him within itself. Still the core of his wisdom yearned for what it could no longer have. He longed for change. Yet he could not change, or he would sacrifice everything he had built. He was the Living Empire.”

Lavanyia turned to face Sungui. “Are you saying that Zyung wanted this to happen?”

Sungui shrugged. “What happens to all empires eventually? Like earthbound trees they rise, grow strong and flourish, but eventually they grow brittle, and entropy claims them like a slow rot. They fall into chaos, which brings war and suffering and the death of peace. All of those terrible things that Zyung built his Living Empire to banish. I believe he knew that his great order must change to survive, as change is the only constant of this universe. Yet how could he change what was an extension of himself, when he was unable to change himself?”

“How can you know all of this?” Lavanyia asked.

“Zyung knew I was going to betray him,” said Sungui. “He told me this himself. For centuries he had known about Those Who Remember, and he knew that I led their rites. He could have destroyed me at any time, yet he did not. He told me that the seed of doubt growing in my heart was the test of his Great Idea. He challenged me to see that his wisdom was true. Now, when I feel the last glimmering of his salt inside me, I believe he knew that I would be the one to transform his dream in a way that he could not. I believe he saw at last the wisdom of Iardu’s own dream, and regretted that he had not seen it long ago. I believe all of this was meant to happen, Lavanyia. I ask you to believe these things as well.”

Lavanyia’s thoughts were her own. She brushed the windblown hair back from her eyes.

“I can never be one of you,” she said, voice heavy with regret. “For I did not taste his essence with you. I will remain a stranger to this new dream.”

Sungui touched Lavanyia’s cheek lightly, raised her face to meet his own. “You need not remain so,” he said. “If I share my enlightenment with you, if I reshape your heart into that of a New Seraphim, will you come with me across the Outer Sea? If I do this thing, will you help me foster this Age of Illumination?”

Lavanyia regarded Sungui now with fresh eyes. He remained a mystery to her, now more than ever, and he knew that she longed to understand that mystery. Her curiosity was irresistible. She nodded. He smiled.

Sungui drew the black dagger from his inner sleeve. It was the same one that had transfixed poor Mahaavar the Ear not so very long ago. Its edge, tempered by sorcery, was as sharp as any metal could be.

He raised his left hand, fingers spread, holding the dagger in his right fist. Sunlight flashed on the dark blade as it sliced through the smallest finger of his hand. He severed it cleanly at the middle joint. The finger fell in a thin trail of crimson, yet when it landed upon the sand it was no longer flesh and blood.

Sheathing the dagger, Sungui bent and picked up the nugget of salt that had been part of his living body. Instead of blood it dribbled a few loose grains.

“Eat of my salt, Lavanyia,” he asked.

She accepted the white nugget from his open palm and raised it to her lips without a word. She paused for only a moment’s reflection, then dropped it into her mouth like a grape. She chewed it and the light of wisdom blazed from her eyes.

Sungui ignored the pain of his hand. He conjured a flame to burn the small wound until it closed. The stump of the half-finger was pink and raw, but it would heal.

Lavanyia fell forward, and he caught her. She wept softly, her arms clasped about his neck. They stood this way as seabirds warbled glorious melodies overhead.

White surf washed again and again over the sandy beach.

At last Lavanyia lifted her face close to his and breathed a single word.

“Sungui…”

Their lips met, and the heat of understanding passed between them. Sungui’s body altered spontaneously, its male and female aspects advancing and receding upon Lavanyia like the waves upon the warm sand.

There was no more salt but that which lay in the sea.





20


Vows


It was the silence of the forest that she loved most of all.

The deep quiet of the glades between the soaring Uygas was not silence at all, if one paid close attention to it. This quietude was a blend of rustling leaves, gurgling waters, singing birds, and the sighing of wind between the branches. Yet after so many months in the cities of Men, and so many nights in the clattering, noisome camps of war, the forest was a golden dream of silence.