Author's note: And this chapter is dedicated to steamboy, who is entirely to blame for another scene of Gann's play in the Veil. I thought the last scene was the final one of the play, but then something she said sparked off an idea. This is not that idea, but I liked it anyway.
Once you're done reading here, why not pop over to her fic 'Monsters'? I'm really enjoying it, and I think that you might, too.
"Janiik's farm is the only one out there, Gabi, you'll find it easily," Tarva told the half-drow girl, Skyla Avolov's grand-daughter.
"That road's not safe," Gabi protested. She cast a sideways glance, equally beseeching and coquettish, at the hagspawn leaning in her doorway. "The army's gone, but there are still spirits out there that might be hostile. I don't want to go alone."
A few short months ago, Gann would have jumped at an invitation like that. Ah, how things changed. He ignored Gabi's appeal in favour of watching Tarva. She hadn't said anything about last night, or the puzzle he had posed for her, but he could perceive the subtle change.
Gann-of-Dreams could tell when a woman was thinking about him.
"I cannot go with you," Tarva said. "My other companions are waiting for me. Besides, if I did, you'd be far more likely to be attacked by spirits."
"I can help," Gann interjected. "Give me but a moment." Now, who among the spirits was reasonably powerful, but not frightening, able to manifest to someone with few ties to the spirit world, and, most importantly, was in his debt? After a moment's thought, he realised that no such spirit existed. Well, then, who could he call upon that fit most of those criteria, and he wouldn't mind owing a favour? There was Geiborah, of course – they'd had dealings before - but the owl was likely to bore the girl out of her skull with his long-winded explanations. The stags were generally fairly amiable, but he simply didn't have time to follow and guard a migrating herd.
Or the inclination to incur too deep a debt on behalf of this girl, for that matter.
Only half trancing – he didn't need to go any deeper, not in Rashemen, not for something as simple as this – Gann sent out a request to the spirit world. The response was all but instant, as though they had only been waiting for him to ask. That was both unsettling and surprising, but not as surprising as the moment when he opened his eyes and saw the manifested forms of the spirits that had answered his call.
He had expected... oh, a telthor who was new to its duties and over-eager. Instead, he saw the glowing forms of two huge, ancient ravens, spirits as powerful and revered as Okku himself. They looked rather out-of-place, perched on the Avolov's kitchen table, their wings spread wide and casting a blue, ghostly light over everything. Impossible for a shaman not to recognise them; equally impossible not to wonder exactly why they had come. Their love of mischief was as famous as their wisdom.
"Hukhin, Myunni. You honour us with your presence." Gann offered a small bow, and Tarva a respectful nod. He worried for a moment, but then remembered how she had gorged in Myrkul's Vault. Gabi's eyes were very wide.
Hukhin croaked, a hoarse syllable that was somehow mentally translated into speech. Few were the spirits who had the ability to speak, and even most of them chose their own way to communicate. "We always ask a price, shaman. Would you sacrifice your eye for wisdom?"
"If I were seeking wisdom, perhaps," Gann replied. "But that was not why I called."
"Oh, we know. You would have us take this fledgling under our wings, and bring her to her mother's mother at the nest of bears." Myunni swiped his beak against the back of a chair. "Not our usual purpose, but we will do this. For a price."
"H-honoured ones," Gabi said, her voice shaking slightly, "if there is a price, it is mine to pay. I know how to honour the spirits – I will pour you a bowl of fresh milk–"
Gann winced. That was an appropriate offering for the young fox-spirits who haunted Mulsantir's houses, but for such as these two, it was a grave insult. If they took offence -
Hukhin snickered. "Milk? We know the secrets hidden in the dark places of the world; we whisper them in the ears of the One-Eyed. We feed on the flesh of the dead, on their blood and thoughts and memories. What is milk to us?"
"We shall teach you better, on the road. If our price is met," Myunni added.
"How may I honour you?" Gann asked.
The telthors fixed jewel-bright eyes on him. "You have nothing to interest or offer us, Gannayev-of-Dreams. We did not come for you." Their heads swivelled to face to the one person who had not yet spoken.
Tarva.
"We knew when you woke, spirit-eater," Hukhin said.
"Spirit-eater?" Gabi nearly shrieked out the word, and backed away. As reactions to meeting a legendary monster went, Gann had to admit it was fairly justified.
"Do not interrupt, child." Hukhin continued. "We felt you devour faithful Nakata, spirit-eater; we sensed your destruction of countless other spirits who served the land. But you wear a strange face this time – other telthors have crossed your path and survived. The Wood Man is stronger than in many centuries. Okku himself walks with you and defends you against his own kind. We wish to know this: is this new mask truly more kindly, or simply more cunning? Can we trust you? That is our price."
Gann opened his mouth to protest. This was outside all dealings with the spirits he understood. The telthors could demand any price they chose, but it should be demanded either from himself (who had called them) or from Gabi (who would benefit), not from Tarva, who had nothing to do with it. "This is wr-"
He staggered underneath the vicious lash of spirit energy Hukhin sent at him. "You have been well taught, shaman, and you are as close to being one of us as any breathing creature has ever been. But never presume to judge us again."
"You leave him alone," Tarva said, her hands tensing on her scythe-handle.
Myunni cocked his head at her. "Spirit-eater, Huhkin was merely teaching the shaman an important lesson. Your companion will be no worse for it. Come, we have business here."
She ignored the raven. "Are you all right, Gann? I felt that."
"No permanent damage," he answered, both heartened and touched by her concern, "but I haven't been hit like that since I was a child. I haven't missed it."
"Spirit-eater," Hukhin croaked. "Will you accept our price?"
"Brother, remember this mask is a stranger to our land. She doesn't understand what we are asking, nor who we are. You have not even set the contract clearly."
"Ah," Hukhin roused his feathers. "Of course. Spirit-eater, these are our terms. We will see this girl safely to her family at the Wells of Lurue. In return, we will sift your thoughts and memories – those of your mask, and those of you, yourself, that we are able to access – and determine for ourselves how far you are to be trusted. Do you assent to this?"
Tarva glanced at him. After a moment's thought (the ravens were tricksters, but not malign; the offered contract seemed honest; he didn't know exactly how they planned to 'sift' her memories and what that might be like; his head still hurt from Hukhin's reprimand), he shrugged.
"I assent," Tarva said. "But be careful. My control over the curse is not perfect."
The ravens hesitated for an instant. Then, in unison, they launched themselves from the table and over to Tarva, settling one on each plate-clad shoulder. A change passed over Tarva's face; her living, breathing body was empty of her.
What had they done? What had he let them do?
"Tarva?" he called, softly, as Gabi stared in horrified fascination.
"She is not here," Hukhin said impatiently. "Let us work, shaman!"
"She will not be harmed," Myunni added. Then the raven's ghostly beaks stabbed into Tarva's skull.
It went on for what seemed a long time. Tarva stood there, still and staring, as Hukhin and Myunni rooted around in her head, croaking and chuckling to themselves. Gabi, looking rather queasy, retreated into another room. Gann waited, feeling rather sick himself, her hands held in his, trying not to see the ravens pecking, and failing.
Then there came a flare of dark Hunger. The ravens flapped clumsily out of the way, cawing their alarm, as Tarva blinked. In another moment, Gann unceremoniously hit the ground – she'd shoved him away – and the half-elf was wrestling the Hunger down. Finally, she looked up, white and shaking. "Well, that was an experience."
"Tarva." Gann got to his feet. "Are you –"
"Are you hale?" Gabi echoed from the doorway.
"Close enough," she answered, leaning back against a wall for support. "Did you ravens find what you needed?"
"Our terms are met," Hukhin conceded. "I hope we do not meet again, spirit-eater."
-0-0-0-0-0-
"Stop apologising, Gann," Tarva said, ignoring the cries of the Mulsantir merchants urging them to come and buy. "The ravens will make sure Gabi reaches Janiik's farm safely and I'm fine. Granted, I wouldn't go through all that again willingly... Is dealing with spirits usually like that?"
"From my vast store of previous experience, never. What did they do to you?"
Tarva shook her head. "I'm not sure. They spoke of sifting my memories... I don't think they put everything back in quite the right order." She pushed open the Veil's doors. "I'm not even sure they found what they wanted – but they did dig deep enough to wake the spirit-eater."
"The living are not welcome in my realm," Lothario proclaimed from the stage, then swore. "Magda, what's my next line?"
"Before I banish you, I wish –"
"- to know how you came here," Lothario completed the line, staring down at the kneeling figure of Wallace-as-the-dreamwalker-Reves.
Okku let out a gusty sigh, seeing them in the doorway. "Little one, I am glad you've returned. All this chattering hurts my ears." He sniffed deeply. "Waugh! You stink of Raven. What have you been doing, little one?"
"Arranging an escort for Gabi Avolov to the Wells of Lurue," Tarva answered, as Wallace launched into a stirring speech about how he had beseeched Sune for aid.
Old Father Bear snorted. "And those two were the best you could find, shaman? Hmph." He rolled his pale eyes. "Jeering birds. What did they demand in return?"
"To poke through my memories, apparently." The half-elf leant against the bear's furry bulk, scratching him behind the ears. "Well, mine and the spirit-eater's."
"Hrrrrrrrm. I shall have to speak to them later." Okku lidded his eyes. "A little more to the left." Gann didn't even try to suppress a smirk as Tarva obliged. "Are we ready to leave, then?"
"We'll wait until they've finished the scene, Okku," Tarva said. "It seems a bit rude to go storming through their stage." He grumbled under his breath.
"Therefore, in Sune's name, Lord Kelemvor, let me bring Avanya back to the land of the living," Wallace concluded his speech.
"Gods?" Gann shook his head. "They put gods in my play?"
Kaelyn, accompanied by Safiya, approached them just in time to hear that comment. "I find myself in agreement with you, Gannayev. This business of men pretending to be gods verges on blasphemy."
"Kelemvor was human once. I'm sure he understands," Tarva answered.
"Ah, but you missed the part where 'Sune' was onstage. I doubt the goddess of beauty will be flattered by being portrayed by Magda," Safiya laughed.
"Nor do I understand why he cannot simply find a cleric to resurrect her –" Kaelyn added, before Vesper shook his head at them, and they took the cue to be quiet.
"Too simple," Tarva murmured to Kaelyn. "No plot. Grobnar used to go on about resurrection spells and reduced impact of character mortality."
Amber drifted in from the wings, her eyes blank and unfocused. Wallace stifled an exclamation at the sight of her; she displayed no reaction at all. Lothario stared at them impassively. "Even the Fugue Plane feels the gentle power of the Lady Firehair," 'Kelemvor' conceded. Kaelyn made a small sound of disgust. "But even in her name, in the name of love, I cannot grant your request. There are laws that govern us all. Avanya has drunk of the waters of the dead and eaten our food; she cannot return to life." He looked down at the supplicant. "I am sorry."
"No," 'Reves' begged. "No, no, please. Lord Kelemvor, I cannot live without her."
There was a moment of deep silence, and then the god spoke. "Then stay. Swear yourself to me, and I will see to it that you are never parted. You can have eternity together –"
The dreamwalker interrupted him by throwing himself at Kelemvor's feet, spouting servile promises and vows that Gann didn't bother to note. He washed his hands of the production entirely.
Lothario raised Wallace to his feet. "Go in peace, and in love." Wallace sketched a quick bow; Lothario faded into the wings as 'Avanya' rushed forward, her eyes alight with love and hope. The two met in a passionate embrace, which lasted until Wallace's hand crept just a little low and Amber slapped his face.
