Kitabı oku: «War in Heaven», sayfa 3

The Sonderval’s arrogant observation did not please Aja, or Helena Charbo – or any of the other master pilots sitting by the wall. It did not please Lord Nikolos, who bowed to Danlo and grimly said, ‘Continue your story.’

Danlo returned his bow and said, ‘Malaclypse and Sivan followed me into the Solid State Entity. Across the entire Vild. They … pursued my ship to Tannahill. They became involved with the Architects’ war, too.’

‘It seems that this was a popular war,’ Lord Nikolos said drily.

‘Malaclypse Redring allied himself with Bertram Jaspari,’ Danlo continued. ‘Truly, it was he who enabled the Iviomils to fight as long as they did.’

‘Warrior-poets allied with Architects,’ Lord Nikolos said, shaking his head. ‘This is not good.’

‘It is Sivan in his Red Dragon who leads the Iviomil ships. Sivan and Malaclypse.’

‘This is bad,’ Lord Nikolos said.

‘The Entity believes that the Silicon God is using both the warrior-poets and the Architects in His war,’ Danlo said. ‘She believes that the Silicon God would destroy the whole galaxy, if He could.’

Or possibly the whole universe, Danlo thought.

He went on to speak of Bertram Jaspari’s dream of establishing his Iviomils in a new church somewhere among the stars coreward from Neverness. Like the fanatical Architects they were, they would continue destroying the stars in their God-given program to remake the universe.

‘I am afraid … that they could eventually create another Vild,’ Danlo said. ‘Or worse.’

And what could possibly be worse than the creation of a new region of dead and dying stars? As Ti Sen Sarojin, the Lord Astronomer, observed, if the Iviomils began destroying stars among the densely-packed stars of the core, they might possibly set off a chain-reaction of supernovas that would explode outward star by star and consume the galaxy in a vast ball of fire and light.

‘This is very bad,’ Lord Nikolos said quietly. Throughout the hall the lords sat at their tables in deathly silence. Never in living memory had the calm and cool Lord Nikolos used the words ‘very’ and ‘bad’ together.

‘I am sorry,’ Danlo said.

‘Religious fanatics and facifahs and star-killers and renegade pilots and gods! What a story you bring us. Pilot! Well, we can do nothing about the wars of gods, but it is upon us to —’

‘Lord Nikolos,’ Danlo interrupted.

Lord Nikolos took a quick breath and said, ‘What is it, then?’

‘There is something that the Entity told me about the Silicon God. About all the gods.’

‘Please, do tell us as well.’

‘The Entity believes that we ourselves hold the secret of defeating the Silicon God. We human beings.’

‘But how can this be?’ Morena Sung, the Lord Eschatologist broke in.

‘Because this secret is part of the Elder Eddas,’ Danlo said. ‘And the Eddas are believed to be encoded only in human DNA.’

In truth, no one knew what the Elder Eddas really were. Supposedly, some fifty thousand years ago on Old Earth, the mythical Ieldra had written all their godly wisdom into the human genome. Now, millennia later, trillions of men and women on countless worlds carried these sleeping memories in every cell of their bodies. And it was through the art of remembrancing alone (or so the remembrancers claimed) that the Elder Eddas could be awakened and called up before the mind’s eye like living paintings and understood. Some experienced the Eddas as a clear and mystical light. Some believed that this wisdom was nothing less than instructions on becoming gods – and possibly much more. Danlo, who had once had a great remembrance and apprehension of the One Memory, sensed that the Eddas might contain all consciousness, perhaps even all possible memory itself. If true, then it would certainly be possible for a man – or perhaps even a child – to remember how the Ieldra long ago had defeated the Dark God and saved the Milky Way from annihilation. This was the grail that the Solid State Enity sought in Her war against the Silicon God, and it was possible that Danlo and the Sonderval and Lord Nikolos in his bright yellow robe – and everyone else sitting in the hall that day – carried this secret inside them.

‘I haven’t heard our remembrancers speak of any war secrets contained in the Elder Eddas,’ Lord Nikolos said. Here he turned to exchange looks with Mensah Ashtoreth, the silver-robed Lord Remembrancer who sat at a table nearby shaking his head. ‘As for the Neverness remembrancers, who knows what they have discovered in the years since the Order divided and our mission came here to Thiells?’

He did not add that the many thousands of converts to the new religion of Ringism sought remembrance of the Elder Eddas as well. Lord Nikolos could scarcely countenance an information so mysterious as the Elder Eddas, much less the possibility that some wild-eyed religionary on Neverness might uncover secrets unknown to his finest academicians.

‘And yet,’ Danlo said, ‘the Entity hopes that some day some woman or man will remember this secret.’

‘But not,’ Lord Nikolos said, ‘some god?’

‘Possibly some god,’ Danlo said. ‘Possibly my father. But most of the gods are nothing more than vast computers. Neurologics and opticals and diamond circuitry. They … do not live as a man lives. They cannot remember as we remember.’

‘And do you believe that the Solid State Entity would have us remember for Her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then She would use us – our Order – as the Silicon God uses the Architects and the warrior-poets?’

‘My father,’ Danlo said, smiling, ‘once wrote that the Entity referred to man as the instrumentum vocale. The tool with a voice.’

‘And you find this amusing?’

‘Truly, I do,’ Danlo said, looking down at the flute he held in his hand. ‘Because these tools that we are also have free will. And our lives are the songs that sing the universe into existence.’

‘What songs will we sing, I wonder, if we become involved in the gods’ wars?’ Lord Nikolos asked.

‘I do not know,’ Danlo said. ‘But if we could remember this secret of the Eddas, then in a way it would be we human beings who used the Entity to destroy the Silicon God, yes?’

‘Is this what you advise, Pilot? That the Order use its resources in helping the Entity fight Her war?’

Danlo suddenly fell into silence, and he gripped his flute so hard that the holes along the shaft cut into his skin. He said, ‘I … do not believe in war at all. The Lord Akashic must know that I have taken a vow of ahimsa.’

Never to harm any living thing, Danlo thought. Even at the cost of one’s own life, never to dishonour another life, never to harm, never to kill.

‘Well, I don’t believe in war either,’ Lord Nikolos said from his chair. ‘War is the stupidest of human activities, with the possible exception of religion. And as for the kind of religious war of which you’ve spoken today …’

Lord Nikolos let his voice die for a moment as he turned to catch the eyes of the Sonderval and Morena Sung and the other lords sitting near him. He shook his head sadly as if all agreed that religious war was by its very nature insane. Then he continued: ‘Nevertheless, it is upon us to consider this war that the Architects fought among themselves and would bring to other worlds. Perhaps we must also consider the wars of the gods.’

Danlo looked at Lord Nikolos then, and quickly bowed his head.

‘Pilot,’ Lord Nikolos asked, ‘have you finished your story?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I must ask you to wait outside while we consider these stupidities and crimes that you have brought to our attention.’

Danlo bowed his head. He knew of the rule that only lords and masters may attend the most serious deliberations of the Order. He stepped out of the black diamond circle and moved to pick up his wooden chest where it sat on the floor.

‘A moment,’ the Sonderval said suddenly. He slowly stood away from his chair and stretched himself up to his full eight feet of height. ‘I would like to applaud the Pilot’s accomplishment in discovering so much and falling so far.’

So saying he rapped his diamond pilot’s ring against the table. Helena Charbo and Aja, sitting across the room at the master pilots’ table, knocked diamond against wood, as did Lara Jesusa and Alark of Urradeth. But none of the other lords and masters in the hall that day wore rings, and so they had to content themselves with clapping their hands together and bowing their heads in honour of Danlo’s great feat.

‘And now,’ the Sonderval said, ‘I would like to ask Danlo wi Soli Ringess to remain here with us today.’

At this unexpected presumption. Lord Nikolos turned abruptly and shot the Sonderval a puzzled and offended look.

‘I would like to ask him to remain as a master pilot,’ the Sonderval explained. ‘Can anyone doubt that his accomplishments merit his elevation to a mastership? I think not. And therefore, as Lord Pilot, I welcome him to the rank of master. We will hold the ceremony later in the Pilots’ Hall.’

For a long time Lord Nikolos and the Sonderval stared at each other like two cats preparing to spring at each other’s throat. True, as Lord Pilot, the Sonderval had the power to make new masters as he chose. But he was supposed to put the names of all candidates before a board of master pilots who would make their recommendations according to each candidate’s prowess and worthiness. And then by tradition, if not rule, the Lord of the Order himself would approve the elevation and make the first welcoming of the new master. Precipitous times often require precipitous decisions, but the Sonderval usurped Lord Nikolos’ prerogatives less from need than pure arrogance. Since the Sonderval thought that he himself should have been made the Lord of the Order on Thiells, he exulted in acting in Lord Nikolos’ place whenever he could.

‘Very well,’ Lord Nikolos finally said, forcing the words from his tight, thin lips. He turned to Danlo, who still stood at the centre of the hall watching this little drama between the most powerful lords of his Order. ‘Very well, Master Pilot, would you please remain here while we make our decision as to what must be done?’

Danlo bowed formally, then smiled and said, ‘Yes.’ Then he carried his wooden chest over to the table where the master pilots sat and took his place on a chair between Lara Jesusa and Alark of Urradeth. Alark, a quick, hot-tempered man who had once crossed the Detheshaloon solely as the result of a dare, embraced Danlo and whispered his welcome as he rapped his ring against the table.

‘And now,’ Lord Nikolos said, standing to address the lords, ‘we must reconsider our mission in light of all that Danlo wi Soli Ringess has told us.’

So began the great war debate in the Hall of the Lords. At first, it was more a personal argument between the Sonderval and Lord Nikolos. Although no one favoured full war, the Sonderval wanted to lead a group of lightships to the Civilized Worlds, there to intercept and destroy Bertram’s Jaspari’s fleet along the stellar Fallaways before they could reach Neverness. Lord Nikolos, however, a frugal man always concerned to husband his resources, pointed out that the New Order’s lightships were few in number, and every ship would be needed now that Tannahill had been found. For the Order’s mission. Lord Nikolos suggested, was still to the Architects of the Old Church. An embassy would have to be sent to Tannahill. The Order would have to provide the Architects with ships and pilots so that the Church’s missionaries could spread their new programs to every corner of the Vild. Architects everywhere must know that they were no longer permitted (or encouraged) to blow up the stars.

‘We must not become involved in these wars between religions and their sects,’ he told the assembled lords. And here he turned to smile at Danlo. ‘And as for the wars between the gods, unless one of us suddenly remembrances these war secrets of the Elder Eddas, then we cannot become involved, for there is nothing we can do to touch the gods or influence them in any way.’

Most of the lords accepted the logic of Lord Nikolos, but the Sonderval turned to him and asked, ‘But what of the Iviomil fleet that the warrior-poet and the renegade lead towards Neverness? Are we simply to abandon the world from which we came?’

‘Have you heard me speak of abandonment?’ Lord Nikolos asked.

‘I haven’t heard you speak of protecting our brothers and sisters on Neverness!’ the Sonderval said with great passion. Once, years before, he had lost his beloved when a comet struck her planet, and since that time he had never been with another woman. ‘I would hope this isn’t because you’re afraid of risking a few tens of lightships.’

‘There are always risks no matter what course of action we choose,’ Lord Nikolos said. ‘But risks must be calculated. Costs must be assessed.’

‘Calculations and costs!’ the Sonderval mocked. ‘Thus do the merchant-pilots of Tria speak.’

‘Thus does any sane man speak who must accomplish difficult things with limited means.’

‘As Lord Pilot of our Order,’ the Sonderval said with great pride, ‘it’s my charge to encourage my pilots to attempt impossible things beyond what we conceive as our limitations.’

Here he bowed to Danlo, honouring him as an exemplar of the pilots’ greatest traditions. Many of the lords suddenly looked his way, and Danlo freely met their eyes even though he hated such public attention.

‘As Lord Pilot of the Order nothing more could be asked of you,’ Lord Nikolos said to the Sonderval. ‘But as Lord of the Order, I must constrain the heroics of my pilots, even such a great pilot as yourself.’

This mixture of compliment and veiled criticism momentarily flustered the Sonderval, who sat glaring at Lord Nikolos. Lord Nikolos seized this opportunity to deliver his crowning jewel of logic in avoidance of conflict. ‘I propose that we send three pilots to Neverness. Three of our finest pilots in our swiftest ships. They will warn the lords of Neverness of Bertram Jaspari’s Iviomils and this star-killer that their fleet brings with them. The Old Order has more pilots than we – let the pilots of Neverness fight this war with the Iviomils, if indeed any war is to be fought.’

Lara Jesusa traded a quick look with Alark of Urradeth, and the brilliant Aja turned her dark eyes to meet Danlo’s. Already, it seemed, the master pilots had accepted Lord Nikolos’ plan and were vying to see who might be selected to journey home to Neverness. The lords, too, could find nothing to argue with. They sat silently in their seats, looking back and forth between Lord Nikolos and the Sonderval. For a moment, it seemed that the lords would make the obvious decision and that war had thus been averted.

But the universe is a strange place, always alive with irony and cosmic dramas. Sometimes the play of chance and impossible coincidence may persuade us that we are part of a larger game whose purpose is as infinite as it is mysterious. Sometimes, in a moment, a woman may act or a man may speak and history will be changed for ever. As Lord Nikolos called for a formal vote as to his plan, such a moment came to the Hall of the Lords. The great golden door through which Danlo had passed scarcely an hour earlier swung suddenly open, and three men made their way into the hall. Two of these were novice horologes, young men in tight red robes who had volunteered to guard the hall and act as guides for any ambassador or luminary who had business there. The third was an uncommonly large man dressed all in black. He had a thick black beard and blackish eyes and purple-black skin, and his mood at the moment was pure black because the horologes were harrying him, clutching at his arms and trying to prevent him from entering the hall. ‘Let go of me, goddammit!’ he shouted as he swung his great arms and flung off the two small novices as if they were insects. ‘Let go – haven’t I explained that I’ve important news for your lords and masters that won’t wait? What’s wrong with you? I’m no assassin, by God! I’m a pilot!’

Although a score of lords had risen in alarm, Danlo smiled and his eyes filled with light because he knew this man. He was Pesheval Sarojin Vishnu-Shiva Lal, commonly known as Bardo, a former pilot of the Order and one of Danlo’s oldest friends.

‘Please restrain yourselves!’ Lord Nikolos commanded in his steely voice. ‘Please sit down.’

‘Yes, sit down before your knees buckle and you fall down,’ Bardo said as he strode to the black diamond circle at the centre of the hall. ‘I’ve much to tell, and you’ll need all your courage to hear it.’

‘You,’ Lord Nikolos said pointing at Bardo, ‘are no longer a pilot of the Order.’

Twelve years before, in the Hall of the Lords on Neverness, Lord Nikolos and many other of the lords (and Danlo) had watched as Bardo had flung his pilot’s ring against a granite pillar, shattering it and abjuring his vows as a pilot. And then, after drinking the sacred remembrancers’ drug and preaching the return of his best friend, Mallory Ringess, he had gone on to found the religion known as the Way of Ringess.

‘No,’ Bardo said. ‘I’m no longer of the Order. But I’m still a pilot, by God! And I’ve crossed half the galaxy to tell you what I must tell you.’

‘And what is that?’

Bardo took a moment to fill his huge lungs with air. He looked at the Sonderval, with whom he had shared his journeyman years at the Pilots’ College, Resa. He looked at Lord Nikolos and Morena Sung and Sul Estarei, and lastly he looked at Danlo wi Soli Ringess. ‘There will soon be war in Neverness,’ his great voice boomed out into the hall. ‘And war among the Civilized Worlds. For the first time in two thousand years, a bloody, stupid war. I’ve journeyed twenty thousand light years to tell you how this tragedy has happened and what we must do.’

Lord Nikolos sat rigidly as if his chair had been electrified, and the eyes of every lord and master were fixed straight ahead on this huge man who commanded their attention. And so it happened that in the Hall of the Lords, a former pilot of the Order brought them news of a war that would change each of their lives and perhaps the face of the universe itself.

CHAPTER II
Fate

There is a war that opens the doors of heaven;

Glad are the warriors whose fate is to fight such a war.

— Bhagavad Gita 2.32

At the centre of the floor of the Hall of the Lords, Bardo stood in the circle of inlaid black diamond. It might be thought that Bardo, standing in this circle with his black skin and black garments, would almost disappear into this purest of colours. But Bardo was not a man to be overshadowed, not by man nor woman nor events nor the onstreaming black neverness of the universe itself. Like a hot giant star floating in the middle of the intergalactic void, he demanded attention. He had been born a prince of Summerworld, and he still thought of himself as a luminary among lesser lights, even though his innate nobility (and compassion) obliged him to help others rather than scorning them as beneath his concern, as did the Sonderval. He was a natural dramatist. His huge voice filled the hall and fired the imagination of every master and lord. His whole manner touched others deeply, and yet little of this display resulted from conscious calculation, but was rather an expression of his deepest self. For instance, his clothing that day was as eye-catching as it was strange, for he wore neither wool kamelaika nor formal black silks. A suit of spun nail, a fibre both exquisite and rare, covered his body from neck to ankle. Spun nail, of course, is harder and stronger than diamond, proof against lasers or knives or exploding projectiles. And to guard against blows, the suit’s upper piece had been reinforced with sheets of plate nall moulded to conform to his muscles. Between his legs he wore a huge nall codpiece to safeguard the most vulnerable and valuable of organs. A huge shimmering cape of shesheen, in which he might swaddle himself in the event of radiation bursts or plasma bombs, completed his raiment. And all this grandiloquent battle armour was of Bardo’s own design. Having once been killed in defence of his best friend’s life and subsequently resurrected, he placed great value on his own flesh and spared no expense in protecting it. As he told the assembled lords, he had gone off to war, and he entertained no illusions as to the terrors that he – and they – must soon face.

‘There’s already been a battle in Neverness,’ he said. ‘Oh, it was a small enough battle, and some will call it no more than a skirmish, with only three pilots killed, but it’s a harbinger of worse to come, soon enough, all too soon – I don’t have to be a goddamned scryer to tell you that.’

Bardo went on to describe the events leading up to this battle. What had occurred on Neverness since the Vild Mission departed almost five years before was complicated, of course, as all such history truly is. But here, briefly, is what Bardo told the lords: that he had originally founded the religion known as the Way of Ringess to honour the life and discoveries of his best friend, Mallory Ringess. Mallory Ringess had shown the Order – and all humankind – that any man or woman could become a god through remembrance of the Elder Eddas. Bardo had brought this teaching to Neverness, and more, in his joyances and ceremonies where the sacred remembrancers’ drug, kalla, was drunk, he had made the experience of the One Memory available to the Order’s academicians and the swarms of seekers who peopled the city. But Bardo, as Bardo said, was better at beginning great works than completing them: he was no prophet, but only a man with a few uncommon talents, a former pilot of the Order who simply wanted to help his friends and followers towards the infinite possibilities that awaited them. From almost the very beginning of the founding of Ringism, he had become involved with the cetic, Hanuman li Tosh.

‘Ah, you all know of Hanuman,’ Bardo said. He paused to exchange a quick look with Danlo. Once, before they had become enemies, Danlo and Hanuman had been the deepest of friends. ‘But how many of you really know Hanuman?’

He went on to admit that Hanuman li Tosh was a brilliant and charismatic young man – and also a religious genius who had shaped the explosive expansion of Ringism in the city of Neverness and throughout the Civilized Worlds. But Hanuman was secretly cruel and vain, Bardo said, and monstrously ambitious. Hanuman, Bardo said, had been like a cancer in the belly of his church: making secret alliances with other luminaries within the Way; devising and leading new ceremonies to control directly their followers’ minds; and worst of all, spreading lies about Bardo and undermining Bardo’s leadership in any way that he could. As Ringism spread its tentacles (this was Bardo’s word) into the halls of the Order and the cities of the Civilized Worlds, the new religion was sick at its centre, with Hanuman robbing it of true life in his terrible hunger for power. Finally, on a day that Bardo would never forget, Hanuman had challenged his authority directly and ousted him as Lord of the Way of Ringess.

‘He stole my goddamned church!’ Bardo thundered at the astonished lords. His face was purple with rage, and he stamped his black, nall-skin boot against the black diamond circle. ‘My lovely, blessed, beautiful church!’

For a moment no one spoke. Then Lord Nikolos fixed his icy eyes on Bardo and asked, ‘Do you refer to the cathedral which your cult purchased from one of the Kristian sects, or the organization of believers whom you gulled into following you?’

Bardo, who knew very well what Lord Nikolos thought about religions, decided to take no offence at this. He simply said, ‘Both. At first, it was the cathedral, and then Hanuman poisoned the Ringists’ minds against me. Ah, too bad! Too bad.’

‘And how does one steal a cathedral?’ Lord Nikolos asked.

Bardo looked straight at Lord Nikolos and sighed. ‘Do you remember how the cathedral was financed?’

‘I’m not sure I ever cared to know.’

‘Well, it was an expensive building,’ Bardo said. ‘Hideously expensive – but the grandest building in all the city. I had to have it. That is we had to have it, we Ringists who followed the Way. So we decided to buy it in condominium. The money for it came from the pockets of each Ringist. There was a problem of course, with some of the Ringists owning a share in such a building.’

‘Because these Ringists were also Ordermen?’

‘Exactly. Since the Order’s canons forbade ownership of property, they had to turn their shares over to others outside the Order who held it in trust for them. Hanuman, in secret, began to win these trustees to his confidence – and many other Ringists as well. And then one day, on the fourteenth of deep winter, he —’

‘He called for a vote setting rules as to who was permitted entrance to the cathedral,’ Lord Nikolos said.

‘How did you know that?’ Bardo called out, less suspicious than amazed.

‘It seems an obvious enough stratagem’ Lord Nikolos said. ‘How is it that you didn’t foresee it?’

‘Ah, well, at first I did. Is Bardo a stupid man? No, indeed I’m not, and I thought that I was full aware of who among the trustees was loyal to me and who was not. But I’m afraid I miscounted. I was, ah, busy with other concerns. It’s no simple thing, you know, founding a goddamned religion.’

Here Danlo looked at Bardo across the hall and smiled. It was a shameful admission for a pilot steeped in the art of mathematics to admit that he had miscounted. But Bardo, for all his cunning, could be the most careless of men. Most likely his ‘other concerns’ were the seduction and sexing of the many beautiful young women who sought to serve the Way of Ringess in any way they could.

‘It seems,’ Lord Nikolos said, ‘that Hanuman has his own concerns.’

‘He barred me from my own church, by God! He installed himself as Lord of the Way!’

‘And the Ringists followed him?’

‘Too many did, too many,’ Bardo admitted. ‘Ah, they were sheep anyway – who else would have originally followed such an ill-fated man as I? Oh, at first I tried to lead the remembrancing ceremonies from my own house. For half a year, there were two Ways of Ringess in Neverness. But I no longer had the heart for it. I saw what Hanuman was doing with my church, and it made me want to cry.’

And what Hanuman was doing, Bardo said, was the total suborning of the Order – not for the sake of remembrancing the Elder Eddas and honouring Mallory Ringess’ journey into godhood, but solely for the sake of power. Years before, Hanuman had made a secret pact with the Lord Cetic, Audric Pall, whom he had helped become Lord of the Order. Lord Pall had manoeuvred to have the Order’s canons amended, and for the first time in history, the lords and masters and academicians of Neverness were permitted formal association with a religion. Indeed, they were encouraged, even pressured, to profess their faith in the Three Pillars of Ringism and interface Hanuman’s computers, in which the remembrance of the Elder Eddas had supposedly been stored as compelling images and vivid surrealities. Lord Pall gained for the stale, old Order the energies of an explosive new religion. And Hanuman gained alliance with the Order’s many pilots who might set forth in their sparkling lightships and bring the Way of Ringess to the Civilized Worlds and to the stars beyond. Soon, Bardo said, the Way of Ringess and the Order would be as one: a single religio-scientific entity whose power would be without constraint or bound.

When Bardo had finished speaking, all the lords sat motionless in stunned silence. Then Lord Nikolos blinked his eyes in disbelief and said, ‘This is very, very bad.’

In truth neither he nor any other lord could have foreseen that Ringism like a ravenous beast would gobble up the Order and many of the Civilized Worlds in only five years.

‘I’ve always mistrusted the religious impulse,’ Lord Nikolos said, pointing his small finger at Bardo. ‘But I never understood the true nature of my mistrust. Now I do. I offer my apology to every lord, master and orderman. Had I known the danger that this man and his cult posed, I never would have allowed the Order to divide in two. We should have remained in Neverness to oppose this abomination with all our will.’

He didn’t add that Lord Pall had originally chosen many members of the Second Vild Mission precisely because they opposed the Way of Ringess. Danlo wi Soli Ringess, who had spoken out against the Way and was now Hanuman’s mortal enemy, had seen his name placed at the top of Lord Pall’s list of exiles. And as for Lord Nikolos himself, he had been only too happy to flee what he now called an ‘abomination’, to take his place as Lord of the New Order far from Neverness.

‘Ah, well, no one can know how the future will unfold,’ Bardo told him. ‘If I had known that a little worm of a cetic named Hanuman li Tosh would steal my church and pervert my golden teachings into sleekit dung, I never would have held my first remembrancing ceremony.’

‘But like any prophet,’ Lord Nikolos said, ‘you thought you had seen the secret of the universe and had to share it with everyone.’

This snide remark wounded and angered Bardo, who said, ‘I’ve seen what I’ve seen, by God! I’ve remembranced what I’ve remembranced. The Elder Eddas are real. I’m not the only one here today who has apprehended this knowledge. Morena has drunk kalla with me in my house, and Sul Estarei, and Alark of Urradeth. The Lord Remembrancer himself has had his own experience of the Eddas, and Danlo wi Soli Ringess is famous for his remembrance of the One Memory. The truth is the truth! You can’t fault the religious impulse that drives us towards it. It’s only what we make of our religions that is so wrong. Somehow, whenever men organize the pursuit of the divine, all that’s most blessed and numinous is ruined like picked apples rotting in the sun. As I, Bardo, of all men should know.’