The sharp clang of a pot jabbed his ears, making his neck muscles jerk and his eyelids flicker. Banging and scraping sounds sawed at his nerves, but they were faint, intangible, and not sufficiently real to break the bonds of stillness. At times, long stretches of silence entombed him further in his lost world, letting him sink into a numb abyss. His tenuous hold on reality slipped a little more each time, until a sound mercifully awakened him once more to the fact that something else did exist outside. This slight assurance gave him little comfort when his senses cried out for stimulation. The fire's crackle made him long for Crayash, but its lack chilled him.
Chapter Three
Talsy studied the Mujar while she chopped carrots for supper. A week had passed since her father had dumped him in the corner like a broken doll. He did not breathe and had grown cool, yet his heart still beat. Several times, she had pleaded with her father to let him go, but Borak asserted that she did not know Mujar, and he did. She pulled a mutinous face as she mulled over the situation. What if he was wrong? Her questions had revealed that Borak only knew common folktales about Mujar. Maybe there was more to them than people thought. Had anyone ever bothered to get to know one, or had Truemen always discounted Mujar as stupid creatures with no purpose or use?
Sweeping the chopped carrots into the pot, she set the stew on the fire. Borak had made the arduous trek into the nearest village this morning for supplies, and would be gone until dusk. She had returned early from her hunt with a fat snow grouse and set about preparing the bird for the pot. Cooking, hunting and cleaning were all her life consisted of, and probably ever would. Later, when she found a mate, there would be child rearing too. She would probably never leave this bitter valley or know any people other than the villagers and farmers here. Already her father had pointed out several men of the right age and breeding for her. He planned her life as if it was nothing to do with her. She was merely the person who dwelt in her body, her father had bred it and therefore owned it. That was the way things were.
Talsy frowned, pondering while the stew bubbled. Her dull existence was no different from any other girl. She had no special talents or great beauty. There was nothing to set her apart from her peers, and she had no reason to expect anything more than what her father planned for her. The Mujar had come into her life like a cold mountain breeze, sweet and wild, but untouchable. It could be savoured in the instant it passed and then cherished as a memory, nothing more. He was trapped now, however, helpless to save himself from the Pit. Borak had warned her not to touch the rope. According to him, the Mujar might use his powers to escape, maybe even hurt her, yet Borak had also said that Mujar never harmed anyone.
The Mujar's silent presence mocked her cowardice. He was probably the only chance she would ever have to change her life and explore the world. Be someone. If only he would take her with him, wherever he was going. Her father had said that all Mujar did was loaf around, pick through garbage and beg on street corners. This one had been going somewhere when she had trapped him, however, in the shape of a daltar eagle. Perhaps she should ask him. What harm could that do?
Talsy approached the Mujar, stepping over his legs. Crouching, she grasped his chin and turned his head, brushing away the hair that hid his face. She found his helplessness, coupled with his perfection, poignant. To her surprise, his eyes opened, but they merely gazed through her, glazed and unfocussed, before drifting closed again. She patted his cheek, but that only evoked a slight jerk of his neck muscles.
Talsy touched the rope around his neck. A pulse beat under it, yet he had not breathed for a week. Her fingers found the knot, and she paused. What if he fought? He was strong enough to kill her with a blow even if he could not use his powers. Resolutely, she undid the knot, her stomach clenched with trepidation and excitement. She pulled the rope away from his neck without removing the noose, so she could pull it tight again if necessary.
The Mujar raised his head and inhaled like a man who had held his breath for far too long. He opened his eyes and focussed on her, then his hands flashed up to grip her wrists in a painful hold, making her gasp. In a reaction that seemed to be instinctive rather than premeditated, he thrust her away. She held onto the rope, which tightened around his throat. He slumped, releasing her. Her heart pounding, she paused to recover from her shock and pluck up sufficient courage to loosen the rope again. The Mujar raised his head and opened his eyes again to gaze at her.
"I want to let you go," she said, scouring her mind for the right words. "But if I do, you owe me, right?"
He nodded.
Talsy licked her lips. "I want you to take me with you, wherever you're going. I want you to stay with me, protect me." She hesitated. "You'll bond with me for your lifetime, or until I release you. And… you'll obey me."
"No."
She stared at him, dumbfounded. Did he not understand the consequences of his refusal? How could he say no? "My father will throw you in the Pit if I don't set you free."
He nodded.
"You want to be free, don't you?"
He nodded again.
"So do as I say."
"No."
She bit her lip, trying to think of a better bargain. Perhaps her offer was too harsh. "Okay, just… be my friend. Help me whenever I need it and do as I ask, as if you still owed me another Wish."
"Endless Wishes."
"Yes."
"No."
She groaned. "Damn it, do you want to go to the Pit?"
"No."
"Then give me your word, and I'll let you go."
"No."
Talsy pulled the rope tight, and he slumped. Jumping up, she paced the room in a quandary. She had not expected him to refuse her offer of freedom with a few strings attached. Perhaps her father was right. There was no way to bind a Mujar and force him to do anything he did not want to do. Yet there had to be. If she was going to escape the life of drudgery her father planned for her, she must find a way to bind the Mujar. For the moment, however, she was stumped.
No solution came to her before her father returned, so at dinner she questioned him again.
"Papa, tell me more about Mujar."
Borak paused in his chewing to contemplate her. "You're not getting attached to him, are you?"
"Of course not. He's just a thing that sits in the corner. How can anyone get attached to that?"
Borak glanced at the Mujar. "Well, I've pretty much told you everything I know, lass."
"You said that the hill clans sometimes bond with Mujar."
"Yes, it's a sort of mutual thing. Food and shelter for work. Mujar are quite content to spend their lives in drudgery."
Talsy frowned. "But I thought freedom was important to them."
"It is." Borak wiped a dribble of gravy from his beard. "The bond is only for as long as the Mujar wishes it, you see. They're free to leave any time they want, so they haven't given up their freedom. They value comfort, as they call it. Food, shelter, clothes. They don't need them, they just enjoy them. Try to make them do something, and they're gone."
Talsy pushed a chunk of meat around her plate. "So it's more like a bargain, not a bond."
"Oh, it's definitely a bond, make no mistake. A Mujar will fight for his clan, if asked to, and a clan that a Mujar protects is very safe."
She looked up in surprise. "But you said they won't kill."
"No, they don't need to." Borak sighed at the confusion in his daughter's eyes. "You have no idea of the power a Mujar wields. He controls the elements. He can surround his village in a wall of fire twenty feet high and sustain it until the threat goes away. He can make the wind blow so hard the enemy can't make headway against, or he could part the earth and make an impassable crevasse. He doesn't need to kill. That's why it's such a waste that these soulless beggars have so much power."