“I own this ground, every spadeful of it. Why are you digging down if you need to build a chapel up? Don’t you foreigners know air from earth?”
One of the young diggers said, apologetically, “Akha is the god of earth and underground, and we live in his veins. We shall spread his good news through all lands. Are we not Takers from Pannoval?”
“You are not taking this hole without permission,” Laintal Ay roared. “Get out, all of you.”
The large pompous man began to shout, but Dathka drew his sword. He stabbed forward. The object the two older women carried was covered with a cloth. Pricking the cloth with his sword point, Dathka whisked the fabric away. An awkwardly crouching figure was revealed, semihuman, its frog eyes blind but staring. It was carved from a black stone.
“What a beauty!” Dathka exclainled, laughing. “An ugly mug like that needs to be covered up!”
The pilgrims became furious. Akha had been insulted; sunlight was never allowed to touch Akha. Several men flung themselves at Dathka. Laintal Ay jumped out of the hole shouting, and set about the pilgrims with the flat of his sword. The skirmish brought a marshal and two of his men armed with staves to the scene, and in a short while the pilgrims were battered enough to promise their future good conduct.
Laintal Ay and Dathka continued on to Oyre’s new rooms in Vry’s tower, which was being rebuilt. Oyre had moved because the square about the big tower had become so noisy, with its wooden stalls and drinking booths. With Oyre had gone Dol and her small son, Rastil Roon Den, together with Dol’s ancient mother, Rol Sakil. As Aoz Roon’s absence lengthened, Dol had become concerned for her safety in a building that also housed the two increasingly unruly lieutenants, Faralin Ferd and Tanth Ein.
At the entrance to the tower, still referred to as Shay Tal’s Tower, four burly young freed Borlienian slaves were on guard. That arrangement was Laintal Ay’s doing. He received their salutes as he and Dathka entered.
“How’s Oyre?” he asked, already beginning to tramp upstairs.
“Recovering.”
He found his beloved lying in a bed, with Vry, Dol, and Rol Sakil beside her. He went to her and she put her arms round him.
“Oh, Laintal Ay—it was so horrible. I felt such fear.” She stared into his eyes. He looked upon her face, seeing there weariness, caught in the faint lines under her eyes. All who went father-communing were aged by the experience. “I thought I’d never get back to you, my love,” she said. “The world below becomes worse every time you visit it.”
Age had bent Rol Sakil double. Her long white hair covered her face, so that all that could be seen was her nose. She squatted by the bed nursing her grandson, and said, “It’s only them who are old who fail to return, Oyre.”
Oyre sat up and clung more tightly to Laintal Ay. He could feel her shivering.
“It seemed doubly awful this time—a universe without suns. The world below is the opposite of ours, with the original boulder like a sun below everything, black, giving out black light. All the fessups hang there like stars—not in air but rock. All being sucked slowly down into the black hole of the boulder… They’re so malign, they hate the living.”
“It’s true,” agreed Dol, soothing her old mother. “They hate us and would eat us up if they could.”
“They snap at you as you go by.”
“Their eyes are full of evil dusts.”
“Their jaws too …”
“But your father?” Laintal Ay prompted, bringing her back to the reason for her entering pauk.
“I met my mother in the world below…” Oyre could say no more for a moment. Though she clung to Laintal Ay, the world of air to which he belonged as yet seemed less real to her than the one she had left. Not one kind word had her mother for her, only blame and recrimination, and an intensity of hatred that the living scarcely dared reveal.
“She said how I’d disgraced her name, brought her in shame to her grave. I’d killed her, I was responsible for her death, she had detested me since she first felt me stir in her womb… All the bad things I did as a child … my helplessness … my scumble… Oh, oh, I can’t tell you…”
She began to wail horribly to release her grief.
Vry came forward and helped Laintal Ay hold her. “It’s not true, Oyre, it’s all imagination.” But she was thrust away by her weeping friend.
All had been in pauk at some time. All looked on in gloomy sympathy, locked in their own thoughts.
“But your father,” Laintal Ay said again. “Did you meet him?”
She recovered sufficiently to hold him at arm’s length, regarding him with red eyes, her face glistening with snot and tears.
“He was not there, thanks be to Wutra, he was not there. The time has not yet arrived when he must fall to the world below.”
They gazed round at each other in puzzlement at this news. To cover a dread that Aoz Roon was, after all, with Shay Tal, Oyre went on talking.
“Surely he won’t become that kind of evil gossie, surely he has lived a life full enough not to turn into one of those little bundles of malevolence? At least he’s spared that fate a while longer. But where is he, all these long weeks?”
Dol began to weep by infection, snatching Rastil Roon from her mother, rocking him, and saying, “Is he still alive? Where is he? He wasn’t so bad, to be honest… Are you sure he wasn’t down below?”
“I tell you he wasn’t. Laintal Ay, Dathka, he’s still somewhere in this world, though Wutra knows where, that we can be sure of.”
Rol Sakil began to wail, now that her movements were not hampered by the infant.
“We must all go down to that terrible place, sooner or later. Dol, Dol, it will be your poor old mother’s turn next… Promise you’ll come and see me, promise, and I promise I’ll say no word against you. I will never blame you for the way you’ve become involved with that terrible man who has afflicted all our lives…”
As Dol comforted her mother, Laintal Ay tried to comfort Oyre, but she suddenly pushed him away and climbed from the bed, wiping her face and breathing deep. “Don’t touch me—I stink of the world below. Let me wash myself.”
During these lamentations, Dathka had stood at the back of the room, his stocky figure against the rough wall, his face wooden. Now he came forward.
“Be silent, all of you, and try to think. We are in danger and must turn this news to our advantage. If Aoz Roon is alive, then we need a plan of action till he gets back—if he can get back. Maybe fuggies have captured him.
“I warn you, Faralin Ferd and Tanth Ein plot to take over control of Oldorando. First, they mean to set up a mint, with that worm Raynil Layan in command of it.” His eyes slid to Vry and then away again. “Raynil Layan already has the metal makers at work, minting a coinage. When they control that and pay their men, they will be all-powerful. They will surely kill Aoz Roon when he returns.”
“How do you know this?” Vry asked. “Faralin Ferd and Tanth Ein are his friends of long-standing.”
“As for that …” Dathka said, and laughed. “Ice is solid till it melts.”
He stood alert, looking at each, finally letting his gaze rest on Laintal Ay.
“Now we must prove our real worth. We tell nobody that Aoz Roon is still alive. Nobody. Better that they should be uncertain. Leave everyone in doubt. Oyre’s news would prompt the lieutenants to usurp power at once. They would act to forestall him before he got back.”
“I don’t think—” Laintal Ay began, but Dathka, suddenly in command of his tongue, cut him short.