The River Ghasts of Lid and Other Stories

The Eidola and the Tree Serpent - 4

Hebdha and the Yaj Leodan strolled out, near the edge of the settlement. Getting him out had been fairly easy; she had offered to show him the jellyfish. At this time of year these would float above the jungle canopy, trailing their luminescent tentacles; and she was gratified to see that he looked genuinely impressed at the sight. As they watched, a jellyfish sank too low and a tree serpent reared up its frilled head and tore the creature out the sky. There was a chorus of triumphant holps as the troupe of serpents ripped it apart, and then a sudden puff of tiny lights as the jellyfish larvae held in the dying parent burst out and floated away. It looked like a great constellation of little stars that slowly dispersed.

'They say the serpents around here grow as thick as a man's waist.'

She looked at him, considering her response. Now she was near him she recognised the confidence and resolve from his dead grandfather, and a calmness that was his own.

'I've never seen one, that big, my lord. A man from one of the nearby villages claimed to have seen such a thing, but I don't know. The largest I have seen was maybe twice the length of a swamp ox, and was as wide as that post, there.'

'That is still a pretty big snake.'

They were accompanied by two of his soldiers, Massy, and the dead king. Massy was uncharacteristically quiet, distracted by something she couldn't see. The king was staring at his grandson.

'Did you ever meet your grandfather, my lord?'

He glanced at her, surprised, and then laughed.

'No. He died before I was born. I suppose he's here somewhere, isn't he? Sleeping in the tombs. Have you ever met him?'

'My lord, I'm just a novice. I haven't done the ceremony.'

The old king raised a single eyebrow at her.

'That's a pity. I always wondered what the old snake was like. My father... well, my father had a complicated relationship with him. I heard some stories though! The death lizard of the South they called him.'

'A mighty king, my lord.'

'Yes, although now... Well, it doesn't matter. I would love to have known his opinion.' He paused, and then looked her. 'You are recruited from the nobility, aren't you? You sisters of silence?'

She nodded. 'Yes my lord. The first daughter of a Yaj is selected by luck, and sent when she is fifteen small moons old. We are not permitted to know who our birth parents are until we are five hundred small moons old, in case it prejudices us.'

'What if I told you?'

'I would be cast out, my lord.'

'Interesting. So I could bring the court genealogist and dissolve most of the sisterhood.'

'You could, but he would be disembowelled as punishment. It has not happened in living memory, but I understand it is unpleasant. My lord.'

He barked a laugh, and then looked quizzical. 'And why would it be him, and not me?'

'The rules are ancient. The intent is to punish the one who does the research, as that is the malicious act; not the teller, as that can be an accident. Apparently a noble once sent a soldier, thinking the soldier would be sacrificed, but the High Priestess ruled the soldier was not at fault, using this interpretation. So it has been ever since.'

'You didn't say "my lord" that time.'

She glanced at him, but he was clearly baiting her, amused for some reason. Before she was able to respond, he continued, 'Come now! You might be my cousin. A little less subservience, please.'

'Yes... sire.'

He laughed again.

'That will have to do, I suppose, novice Hebdha. Now, shall we take a closer look at these snakes? I wonder if I could return with a full hunting retinue.'

Surprised, she replied, 'I'm not sure...'

But he waved aside her protests, and started striding towards the edge of the jungle.

The sun was almost completely down now, and the Eastern sky was black. She could see the larger moon rising, and the smaller moon was high in the West, chasing the sun across the sky. Between that, and the wreaths of whispvine growing on the boundary, there was just enough light to see by, but it would soon be dangerous near the treeline.

Suddenly, Massy appeared next to her.

'Do you trust me?'

'What? I think so?'

'Then open your hand...'

And then, like that, everything changed.

She was still her. But also: she wasn't. She could feel the thrill of the fight in her limbs, enjoyed the speed at which she pivoted and dived, laughed as much at the idea of spitting out blood as drawing it. It was a savage, alien mood, and she wanted to sing as she danced.

And what a dance. She turned to see one of the guards gawping and the other running towards them, stone knife held out. Without knowing why, she flung her weight to the right, crouched, swept her leg across his path; and when he tumbled she leapt and landed onto his back and bought her full weight on her elbow into the base of his neck.

He grunted with pain and tried to move so she jumped up and stamped on the back of both his knees, and picked the knife up. And then he stayed still.

She took a step back and suddenly she was her again, and she vomited, all over the unfortunate guard and the grass and the red earth.

The Yaj was looking at the scene calmly, with a single raised eyebrow.

'Do they teach you to be sick on your enemies as a sort of victory dance, or is that too many of those spicy sweets?'

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 'He was going to kill you. This blade is poisoned, with serpent venom. He was going to blame it on them.'

How did she know this?

'I understand why this place is so lightly guarded now,' said the Yaj. 'Take him away and lock him up somewhere,' he continued to the other soldier.

Massy appeared next to her again, wearing a feral, angry grin, all teeth and no smile. Hebdha looked at her, and knew where that grin came from.

'Girl, you can move,' said Massy. 'That was fun. I could see him fiddling with the blade, saw the flask of poison. Incredible that he thought he could get away with it here, of all places.'

There were a lot of people running towards them; temple guards, supplicants, novices, priestesses, servants. Everyone was shouting, and even the tree serpents joined in, hurling their hoarse calls from the trees.

'Perhaps,' said Hebdha, 'he was sent by someone who doesn't believe that the eidola exist.'

They both looked up as Durran hurried towards them, moving as fast as he could, stabbing his cane into the soft ground.

'Time to talk to the High Priestess again, I think,' said Massy.