Faerie Lord

Seventy

The walk across the plaza was the longest Henry could remember taking in his entire life. He could feel every eye upon him. He could sense the tension in the tribe. The very fibres of his being told him this was bad news. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to talk to a god?

God used to speak to people fairly often, according to the Bible, but Henry was painfully aware the only ones who heard him nowadays were lunatics. But even that wasn’t relevant in this situation. Charaxes wasn’t the God you prayed to every Sunday, then ignored for the rest of the week like any other sane Anglican. Charaxes was the god of the Luchti and they believed in him implicitly. Charaxes led them out of bondage. Charaxes guided them to this hidden city. Heaven alone knew what other things he’d done that Henry hadn’t heard about. How were the Luchti going to take it when they found out Henry couldn’t hear him. Unless…

An earlier suspicion resurfaced. Maybe Euphrosyne and her helpers faked it. Henry seemed to remember reading somewhere that priests in Ancient Greece – or was it Ancient Egypt? – had secret speaking tubes built into statues of their gods. When the faithful came to worship, the Head Priest spoke down the tube and the congregation thought the god was talking. Speaking tubes were probably a bit sophisticated for the Luchti, but maybe Euphrosyne was a ventriloquist.

Henry decided that if the ark did talk to him, he’d play along. What did it matter if Euphrosyne was fooling her people? It probably brought a bit of comfort into their harsh lives. And if the ark didn’t talk, maybe he could pretend it did. Maybe he could claim it gave him a secret message. Something nice to cheer up the tribe. You’re God’s favourites so he’s looking out for you, sort of thing. It was kind of dishonest, but now he’d thought of it, it was probably the least he could do. They’d taken him in as one of their own and Lorquin had saved his life. He owed the Luchti big-time.

Euphrosyne reached the ark and stopped so abruptly Henry almost walked into her bottom. (Was there a penalty for walking into the bottom of a priestess of Charaxes?) Close up he noticed that the ark inlays really were precious – silver and gold, without a doubt. He’d seen no sign at all that the Luchti worked metal, but the ark looked so ancient it might well have been made by an early civilisation, possibly even the one that built the city.

Euphrosyne undid a catch, opened the lid, then stepped back a pace. Henry could see a short metallic rod protruding from the ark. She turned back towards him and, to his complete surprise, removed her silver mask. Underneath, she had a pleasant face – not particularly pretty, but fresh and cheerful. She smiled broadly at him. ‘Charaxes speaks now,’ she said conversationally.

Without the mask she looked so much less daunting that Henry immediately forgot his earlier plans. ‘What do I do?’ he asked. It suddenly occurred to him she might be a medium who’d go into trance and speak for the god. If so, that would make things easier.

‘Walk to the ark and say, "I am here,"’ Euphrosyne told him. ‘Charaxes cannot see, but he will hear you.’

For some reason it never occurred to Henry to do anything other than what he was told. He took three steps forward, licked his lips and said softly, ‘I am here.’

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ Charaxes demanded clearly from the ark. Henry took a step back, his blood chill, his heart thumping. That wasn’t the voice of a god.

It was the voice of Mr Fogarty.