The naga was now in front of their quarry – the Grey Wanderer’s huge abandoned
cloak. The Priest stepped in front of the Thief, in an effort to protect
him.
‘What secret do you guard, serpent?’ he
asked, seemingly unconcerned by the unexpected appearance of a giant python.
‘Something that does not concern mortals’
she said.
For a long while she swayed in front of
them, not speaking, but with her eyes fixed on the Priest. Then, without
warning she changed, instantly mutating into a thin, green eyed, elf. The
Thief, who had been too terrified to either run away or fight, relaxed a
little. He was getting used to unexpected events, but at least this one seemed
to mean he was no longer in immediate danger.
‘You are a friend of my old companion’
the snake-elf said to the Priest, ‘you are no threat’
She addressed the Thief.
‘But you are something else – a creature
whose aura is diffuse... I cannot sense what you are at all’
The Thief bridled at this.
‘I am a man – I am a foot soldier of
Yellow Cloak, the Lord of Dragons’
‘I know of him’ said the naga, ‘he walks
on the old path, unfortunately; but he is no threat to what I guard either...’
The naga paused for a second.
‘But your aura is not of a man’ she
continued, ‘it has the quality of a uncovered soul’
The Thief, now even angrier, turned to
the Priest.
‘What does the serpent-elf mean? I am a man’
The Priest smiled at him. His
sympathetic eyes were infuriating.
‘You were, but you have been stripped of
your essence – you are what the mages call a naked spirit’
‘What, by tainted blood, is that?’
The Priest struggled for a while to
answer.
‘Imagine you are a cup filled with
wine... and someone empties you. After that you still have the shape of a cup,
but now you are waiting for someone to fill you again. The good thing is that
you can now choose your own... filling’
The naga laughed.
‘He means you’re an empty vessel’ she
said, ‘he’s just being kind...’
The Thief wished that he could strike
the naga, but he had seen one rapid transformation and could well imagine how
quick the transformation back would be.
‘What are you, then?’ he asked, ‘You are
clearly neither elf nor serpent’
‘The Paramount Architect made me new; I
am a thing of subtle enchantment – I am no creation of flesh and blood’
The Thief was fascinated despite his
fear.
‘What are you made of, then?’ he asked.
‘I am sap in a hazel spring made strong’
The Thief and the Priest looked at each
other. Neither of them knew what this meant.
‘And you knew the Grey Wanderer?’ asked
the Priest
‘Yes, I knew him long and well. He came
here millennia ago as he sensed the power of this place. He taught me many
things; many more than I was permitted to know by my maker. At first I resisted
– it seemed like I was doing wrong. But soon – I grew to crave it... very
much... Knowledge is...’
She paused. A strange fire filled her eyes.
Neither of the two watchers recognised it – as one was from a neuter race and
the other from a male-only soldier caste. It was a passion approaching lust.
‘It is so strangely seductive’
The hiss of her words was dangerous. But
it was dangerous in a way that the Thief had never experienced in a thinking
creature before – she was terrifying and wonderful; like the edge of a
beautifully-wrought sword. He watched her, transfixed – his priests were mere
bugs in the shadow of this serpent. He resisted, with difficulty, the urge to
bow down before her.
‘He gave me a name. Before, I was only
known as the first of nine identical servants, but he called me Parwada[1],
the one who learns. He taught me that service is not everything’
The Thief was baffled by this. Service
was all. Without it there would be no
kingship, no structure, no order. Her words were nonsense. He was beginning to
fear that she was formidable but insane.
‘Why did you seek us out here; when you
heard us enter the chamber?’ asked the Priest
‘I came here because I was hoping you were my
teacher. I hope every day that he will return’
The Priest shook his head. His voice was
excruciatingly kind. It was the sort of voice that tells bitter truths as
gently as it is able.
‘He will never return here, my lady; he
has gone from this place forever. You should resume your proper duties’
The naga came up to stand right in front
of the Priest; her eyes fixed on his, her glare unyielding. She looked as if
she had not blinked for a thousand years. The Priest backed away, but his eyes
still met her gaze unflinchingly.
‘It is not your business to tell me what
my duties are. You are a strange kinaam-derived
creature; your ancestors reinvented themselves, so why should not I? We were
both taught by the same teacher; why should I continue to follow the
Architect’s instructions more than you follow the evil cloaks? He has taught me
to find my own way...’
The Priest held up his hands. He finally
broke away from the snake-elf’s stare.
‘I meant no harm. It is not my business
what you do...’
‘No, it is not...’
Parwada frowned and let the Priest
escape from her personal space.
‘We
just want the helm’ said the Priest, calmly, ‘we are happy to leave you with
everything else that is here’
The naga walked round the cloak,
inspecting it carefully. She chanted as she moved. The Thief had no idea what
the language was, but he could tell that it was an elf tongue. It made him feel
queasy even to hear it muttered low.
‘Are you a mage?’ asked the Priest. The
Thief was shocked to hear this term used so flatly – to him it conjured up
visions of green-clad Imperial monsters with unearthly powers. They were the
epitome of the enemy.
‘I have certain... abilities’ she
replied
The naga was deep in concentration.
‘You can cast a diagnostikos, for example...’ said the Priest.
The naga ignored this, but the Priest
didn’t seem to mind. He waited for her chanting to end.
. She hurried back to the cloak. She put
her hand up towards it, but pointedly did not touch it.
‘This thing is evil – it reeks of necromancy;
he has not worn it for a thousand years’
‘Nonetheless – I need it and it is of no
use to you’
Parwada spat on the cloak; it sizzled
and flashed where her green saliva splashed it. Green-grey smoke arose from
that spot. She turned sharply, flinching away from the garment.
‘Take it then; it is an abomination. It
should be destroyed’
She said no more. She shifted back into
snake form, without warning, and slithered away into the darkness at the back
of the chamber. The Thief imagined the long serpent now hiding somewhere in the
room, ready to strike at any time. The fear was thrilling.
He approached the cloak and the Priest
nodded his encouragement.
‘It is mortally dangerous,’ he murmured
‘but you will be able to touch it. It may not even know that you are there...’
‘Did you plan this?’ the Thief asked, glaring
at him, ‘am I just some piece in a great game of chess?’
The Priest shook his head.
‘It was no plan of mine, but that
doesn’t mean that it wasn’t planned – who can tell? Maybe you are a pawn,
indeed... but if so then you are about to be promoted...’
The Thief brushed his little finger
against the fabric. There was a tingle in his finger, as if he were stroking a
purring tiger.
‘Take it down’ ordered the Priest.
The Thief was so used to orders that he
responded immediately. He grasped the cloak and pulled it down from its stand.
It felt neither heavy nor light, but it vibrated uncomfortably in his hands.
‘We must go’ whispered the Priest,
looking back at where the naga had slipped away. He began walking in the opposite
direction, towards the entrance doors. The Thief struggled to follow him; the
cloak made his body quiver with every step.
‘It’s too difficult to carry...’ he moaned
The Priest stopped and looked back at
the cloak and thief. He rubbed his jutting chin for a second.
‘Well, then...’ he said, ‘you had better
put it on’
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