She Who Has No Name

EPILOGUE

The dark-skinned magician cradled the baby in his arms and made soothing noises towards it, but the child continued to wriggle and snuffle despite his efforts to calm it. It was dressed in a blue infant’s smock and appeared not too dissimilar to any other child born in Amandia,although its eyes may have been angled a tad more than was usual. There was quite a decent patch of shiny black hair on its head and its tiny fists remained balled up as it pumped its little arms up and down. It blinked as it scanned the chamber, but its eyes did not settle on anything for even a moment.

‘Do you think he understands us, Father?’ the magician asked, marvelling at the tiny pale creature that contorted in his dark hands.

A rasping voice spoke from behind a thick,drawn curtain, but the voice wasdensewith magic. ‘No, my son, he does not. It will take him a long time to associate everything he senses with something meaningful. He must literally grow into this body and learn the implication of every stimulus he receives, not unlike a normal child. He must also learn the result of every motion and action that he attempts. Every kick of his leg reinforces itself, every wriggle enables him to do a little bit more. Moment by moment, he will discover his new body and learn its operation. It is only his thoughts that are fully developed, for Lin’s mind is housed within, if not actually in body, then at least in spirit.’

‘It would be like being trapped in a cavern of impenetrable darkness, ever searching for the way out.’

‘Something like that, yes, but it is a prison of his own design. He will find his way free soon enough.’

‘And he truly does not need any food or drink?’ the magician asked.

‘It has been a few days already, my son, and he has not suffered. Do not fret. He cannot be harmed. Would you like to throw him down and see the result? It would not bother him in the slightest.’

‘No, Father, I would not.’

‘You worry me sometimes, my boy. Do you have such little faith in me?’

‘Not at all, but it only feels wrong to commit such violence unto a child.’

The unseen speaker laughed and the air seemed to tremble from the might contained in that voice. ‘My poor boy. If I did not know how heartless you truly are, I could almost believe you. Remember, that is not a child in your hands, but a beast waiting to mature.’

‘Yes, Father,’ the magician said, nodding obediently.

‘Soon, we will leave. Is everything ready?’

‘It is.’

‘Very good, but I would ask you something first.’ The pounding voice growled and boomed like the purr of some massive beast. ‘Your behaviour oflatehas been troubling me. I granted your request to return to your homeland and there you slew every man, woman and child you could find. Such violence is wasteful and unwarranted-but that is not what concerns me. You knew I would learn of this, but still you tried to keep the matter hidden. Tell me…why?’ The last word rumbled through the room and shook the very foundations.

‘I do not know, Father,’ the magician replied without emotion.

The room was quiet while the hidden speaker considered the response. ‘Then I hope whatever possessed you is now behind you. We still have a long road ahead of us and I need you fully focussed upon the task. All who could have opposed us have been vanquished, but we have much yet to do.’

‘Before we go, can I ask you something in return, Father? There is something that has long bothered me.’

‘What is it?’ came the growling reply, tinged with a hint of curiosity.

‘It is about the father of Lin-the one called Samuel. It seemed a strange coincidence to me that in this incarnation he contained such potential as a magician. I felt he had the potential to best any of us, given the chance. Such a thing has never happened before, has it?’

‘That is merely circumstance, my son. Any human child could be born with such potential. Several such areinevery Age, and that is why I leave nothing to chance. As you said, it is only a simple coincidence.’

‘But very few of those rise to meet that potential. Samuel was on the verge of realising his limits. He had nearly harnessed his entire share of Lin’s legacy. A little longer and perhaps he could have managed it.’

‘Then it is fortunate he did not.’

‘That is why I took the chance to kill him. When the old Lion and he were wrestling, I tried to ensure that both would die. I was not to know the old man was about to do our work for us. In the end, I may actually have saved Samuel unwittingly.’

‘Then you should have taken more care, foolish boy. The art of manipulation is a slow and careful one. If you must make such rash actions, decided on the moment, youmust notfail to plan correctly. Still, it matters not. They are all dead, so do not dally upon it. Use that experience and learn from it.’

‘But who knows how much further he could have gone, Father? Lin himself was born just a man, so it seems logical that another man could be born to better him.’

‘Such talk will get us nowhere!’ the hidden speaker boomed and the magician almost dropped the child with fright. ‘Allay such thoughts, my boy. What you suggest is possible, but unlikely. Also, we will never know. The father of Lin is dead and all the magic of this world now belongs to this demon child. Soon, it will be mine. Come, you’ve seen it enough. Put the devil back in its box. We must quickly be away.’

‘Yes,my Father,’ the magician responded and he placed the wriggling baby back inside its little black casket, holding down its flailing arms as he carefully clamped shut the lid. With the task complete, he turned to gather his things.

Cadin Waterhouse had long since given up thinking he could escape this life and,quite frankly, he no longer cared. He had spent these last years living from one day until the next. He would crawl out of his bug-infested bed and be drunk by mid-morning. He would gamble away any money he had and,if he had none to lose, he would find a lock to pick or a window to break, and he would rummage through someone’s drawers for anything of value.

Sometimes he wouldtiea handkerchief across his face and wait for some poor unsuspecting soul to come wandering along the dark streets late at night. Then, he would stick his knife into them as quietly as he could and make away with anything from their pockets. Occasionally, he would stumble upon a foolish drunk, just arrived from the docks with his month’s pay, and he would live like a king for a week. Other times, hiseffortwas wasted and he would leave the scene with nothing but blood on his blade for histrouble.

As long as he picked his targets carefully and never killed anyone who was wellconnected, and as long as he kept out of sight of the town guards, he could almost do as he pleased. This place was a well-known haven for lowlifes and cut-throats such as he. It almost served them right for coming here in the first place if they went and got themselves killed by a man like him. It was not much of a life, but still, he made a living and men like him were only good at certain things.

Nevertheless, he worried that the Circle had been shadowing him these past few months. They had left him wellenough alone for a long time, but mysteriously had started showing up again recently, crossing his path or watching him from across the street.

He knew they wanted him to see them, otherwise he would never have known they were after him at all, and that worried him most of all. They were a mixed bunch-some were mages, others thieves or mercenaries-but they all had one thing in common: they could kill him in an instant if they so desired and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He was long past his prime and in no shape to defend himself from anything with the ability to fight back, let alone escape from Circle types. Instead, he ignored the Circle agents as best he could, and just accepted that one day, one of them would do what they had been sent to do, and his life would end. Hopefully, it would be quick.

So it came that one day he awoke-although it must have been nearly noon-to the terrible realisation that someone was standing at the end of his bed. He tried to leap up toescapeout the window, but something invisible to his eye held him fast, and he knew he was as good as dead. He looked at the black-cloaked figure that stood just beyond his trembling toes, and he shook with fear. He could not see the face inside the hood, and he was almost thankful for the fact.

‘Wh-what do you want?’ he stammered, but the ominous figure said nothing. ‘P-p-please! Don’t kill me!’ he said, begging for his life, and tears ran down his cheeks as he blubbered in fear.

Still the cloaked man watched him in silence, as if looking into his very soul. When the magician finally did make a sound, Cadin almost wet himself with fright.

The magician sniffed aloud several times. ‘Your room smells of death.’

‘No, no. You’re mistaken, good Lord!’

‘I know a murderer when I see one. You killed my mother. You killed my father. You killed my sister and brothers,’ said the magician.

‘I–I’m sorry!’ bawled Cadin. ‘I’m ever so sorry.’

‘Quiet!’ the magician commanded and Cadin almost severed his tongue shutting his mouth as quickly as he could. ‘What a pathetic creature you have become.’ The magician passed his eyes slowly across the room with disdain, before returning his gaze to the man in bed. ‘You have caused so much suffering to others, I believe it is time you were given something in return.’

Cadin shook his head feverishly and tried to object, but he could only sob and whimper, filled with fear as he was.

‘Do you know,’ said the magician, ‘suffering is really not so bad, once you get used to it. It can clear the mind and pave the way for wisdom. Wouldn’t you agree?’

Cadin nodded furiously but then shook his head just as hard, unsure of which response the magician was seeking. He certainly did not want to volunteer for any punishment, but neither did he want to disagree with his disgruntled captor. In truth, he had no idea what the magician was going on about. He had never been keen on discomfort of any kind, preferring instead whatever earthly pleasures his coins had been able to gain him.

The magician watched on, unimpressed by Cadin’s response. ‘Tell me,’ he said finally, ‘they say it is never too late for a man to change his ways. What do you think of that?’

‘I agree!’ Cadin blurted out. ‘I can change! I will change-I will!’

‘Very well,’ the magician stated. ‘Everyone deserves a second chance. And a little change can be good for the soul.’

And with that, the magician turned slowly and moved towards the door. The spells that held Cadin fell free and he took a deep breath, filled with relief. He eyed the window and was just wondering whether he should jump out of bed and leap into the street, when four bulky figures came in through the doorway, pushing inside just as the magician’s cloak had slipped from view. They each brandished a long-handled club-the typewith rusty nails hammered through the end-and the last man in shut the door gently but firmly behind him, before turning around and nodding to the others. They hovered around Cadin’s bed, looking neither enthusiastic nor worried. One of them spat into his palms and rubbed them around the haft of his bludgeon before finding a comfortable grip.

Cadin knew it was pointless begging or pleading with them, for they would not care about such things. It would not matter if he screamed or howled or made them any kind of promises. He knew, himself, from all his years of experience, such tasks had little need of emotions. The men would only be looking forward to the things they could buy once he was dead. He was only a job for them,an inconvenient nuisance standing in the way of their payment.

He looked at his sorry excuse of a purse upon his bedside table, for he had wasted away his fortune in the tavern only the night before. Perhaps it may even have been enough to have them turn their backs for just a moment, but the purse now sat flat and empty.

The thought struck him that perhaps the men were only here to scare him. The magician had mentioned a chance, after all. Surely, the magician would not lie to him at such a time? Why give him aray ofhope if there was not some basis behind it? Perhaps the men would put down their clubs and leave him trembling with fear, or order him to leave the town-that had certainly happened before and he would not care in the slightest.

‘Are you going to let me go?’ he asked sheepishly, wrapped tightly within his sheets.

But they did not answer and his timid hopes quickly evaporated. The four of them raised their clubs and he closed his eyes as hard as he could.

What right have the strong to take from the weak?

What justifies the shepherd to decide the fate of the flock?

Know then that I have seen what lies in wait at the edge of the woods

and rejoice that I have thrown myself between the lambs and the wolves.

— inscription upon a weathered rock face; the Valley of the Ancients