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CHAPTER 20

      THE ROOM was swimming with a pale light that had no source Ware could later recall. Nor could he recollect any object in the room, for he never looked around or took note of anything his eyes saw. Indeed, most of what he remembered afterward was pieced together from memories that caught him unawares. Months later, seeing the green fire of an emerald ring on a king's hand, he would think, "Ah, that was the color of her eyes . . ." And the shape of them would come into his mind, and this would perhaps bring back some other thing that had happened as he looked into those eyes. But while he was with Ess-Issa, he was not remembering or thinking anything. He was only experiencing . . . and being.

      Her silent voice spoke in their minds. "I see that I owe you much. You have faithfully protected me. You have been kind to my poor Itok. To one, my debt is only for the grudging strength of his arm, but what he gave was needed, and the debt is acknowledged. What will you ask of me?"

      "Who are you?" Hasty asked in an awe-struck tone.

      Ware had a tipping sensation, and then the curious feeling that he was not only gazing at Ess-Issa, but also looking at Hasty from where Ess-Issa lay, and at the same time he was actually being Hasty, looking at Ess-Issa and trying to peer through the gossamer veil that covered her face and body. Afterward, he had trouble remembering how it felt to see things from three vantage points at once. But that was afterward.

      Ess-Issa stretched out her hand to the boy, and he got up and came to sit directly before her. He was close enough to touch her, but he did not.

      "It was you who broke open my sleep. I thank you, but I cannot give you all you want . . . because you desire to fill up the pit of your curiosity, and that is a well which can never be entirely filled. Nevertheless, I can feed a little of your hunger." At this, Ware experienced Hasty's wonder and delight, knowing it was Hasty feeling it.

      "Remember, however," Ess-Issa continued, "that when the Serpent's Daughter grants a gift, there is a price for it. If you take what Ess-Issa gives, are you willing to give what Ess-Issa takes?"

      The boy nodded eagerly, and Ess-Issa smiled, "Without asking the cost?"

      "Oh, yes. I w-want to know all about you — who you are, and what you're doing in this cart, and why Itok never told us you were here, and, and . . . everything."

      "Life is the only coin that can buy knowledge, child. But don't fear, I won't take all of yours. Only a little." So saying, she offered Hasty her hand, and he took it.

      Then they were looking across a desert in which the grains of sand glittered like the dust of gold. Within it, a jewel in its setting, was a tower covered with blue-green tiles. It stood at the center of a still pool, surrounded by tall, shady trees, shaped like ferns.

      "This is my home," Ess-Issa said softly. "A spot that is holy to the Eternal Serpent. When the children of our people come to their full growth of mind, I call to them. And some — the ones who hear me and cannot resist my voice — sooner or later leave their homes and come to me."

      Ware thought, "Her voice must color their dreams until they cannot tell wakefulness from sleep. How could there be anyone who did not want to seek her out?"

      Ess-Issa never glanced at him, but he felt her in his mind as she continued, "Day after day they travel across the blazing desert. When at last they reach my tower, each one puts his or her hand into mine and offers me life in exchange for knowledge. Just as you have done tonight.

      "The Serpent gives me the power to judge among them. I look into each spirit that comes before me and test it against the long future of the world. I take the best, the finest, the ones who can bear the weight of power without breaking, and they become our people's leaders. I was the Serpent's gift to those who live within his rule."

      In Ess-Issa's mind, Ware saw the many, many men and women who had made that journey through the desert to her tower. In their spirits, she had seen everything that would come to pass for them. She had tested each one, and she remembered them all.

      Hasty started to ask something, but Ess-Issa went on, "When my poor Itok was a young man, only a little older than you are now, he came to that tower of mine. His mind spoke like a stringed instrument, and he was strong — with a strong, young man's body, and a subtle and powerful will."

      Ware saw Itok as he had been that day, kneeling at Ess-issa's feet. He looked up to see the Serpent's vessel. Instead, he saw the living woman who filled it, and he rose from his knees and put his narrow hand against her waist.

      Ess-Issa's loneliness rose to that touch like thirst, although until that hour, she'd never known she was alone.

      Suspended in her memory, Ware was aware of nothing but her silent voice. "I forgot my calling. I forgot my duty to my people. We left the Serpent's land and went away together, and we have wandered long, and a long way since then."

      With those last words, Ess-Issa lifted her hand from Hasty's palm and the spell was broken. "That is why I'm here, Little Questioner. That is who Itok is, and who I am. Is your question answered?"

      "Yes."

      When Hasty spoke, his voice had a different quality. It was as if, having tasted Ess-Issa's memory and shared her loneliness, having glimpsed the hopes of those far away youths and girls, all this had changed him, and he was older now.

      He asked very softly, "What's happening there now? Do they still come to the tower? Is it empty?" He paused and added, "Are you sorry you went away?"

      Ess-Issa shook her head. "No more for you now."

      Then she took his hand again. "Although you are not one of mine, and not the one I have chosen to do the work I have in hand, I know my calling still. And in the Serpent's name I demand this: That you will become the wise and powerful man I have seen that you can be."

      As she said this, Hasty shuddered as if he felt the same burning pain that Ware had endured when he put his hand into Ess-Issa's hand. But he answered very steadily, "Lady, I will try."

      They were quiet for a long time. Perhaps they slept. But later, into that silence, Zex growled, "I've heard that you . . . Serpents can tell a man his future. Is that true?"

      "We can see where certain threads of the present will lead," she nodded.

      "Can you do that . . . for me?" Zex looked angry with himself for asking, scowling and shrugging his shoulders as he asked.

      "Perhaps. Come here, man of the Bear Kingdom, and I will try. But remember, if you take what Ess-Issa gives, you must be willing to give what Ess-Issa takes." She held out her hand, and Zex sat down before her, just as Hasty had done.

      As his massive brown hand touched Ess-Issa's palm, Ware felt again a displacement of self, and he began to see what Ess-Issa saw, and with her, to feel what Zex felt.

      "Well?" Zex demanded. But now Ware could see that his bluster concealed a superstitious dread of Ess-Issa's power. Even his distrust of the Ezzemen had been only fear of a knowledge he could not understand.

      "I must find the threads of your past and follow them to see where they will lead," she whispered.

      Images poured through the Berach's mind — broad, handsome faces, an immense hearth with a wonderful fire, a minstrel singing of glory. Glowing among Zex's childhood memories was the marriage feast for his elder brother. The Bear-King himself had come to his kinsman's wedding. At the banquet in the great hall, Zex, a young prince, leaned against his royal uncle's chair and tasted warm, red wine from a golden cup. The picture throbbed in his recollection, firelight reflected from the gleaming weapons on the walls, its color warming the red of his brother's velvet jacket.

      "Red," Ess-Issa murmured, and Ware saw the red light rise and rise until the whole castle was aflame. Weapons gleamed again, but now they were wielded by cruel men. Death was all around him, and the child Zex stood over his brother's butchered body, defending it with his little sword. "That strong, good-natured friend. I fought them with the weapon he had given me. His happy spirit did not deserve such an evil death!"

      Then came the Bear-King's stern face, and a hateful voice in an echoing room, saying words like 'plot' and 'traitor.' What was a traitor, the little boy wondered. What had he done that was wrong, and what did exile mean?

      "Poor child," Ess-Issa murmured. "The marks of that day have stained the threads your life is woven of."

      Then Ware could see — he leaned forward — was it a tapestry on the loom? A great web? A tangle of cords? He could make no sense of what his mind saw. "What is it? What am I seeing?" he asked. But Ess-Issa did not answer, and after a long moment of staring at the tangle, it faded, and they were in Zex's memory again.

      Exile: they sent the lonely, sullen child over the mountains into a high, cold land that was full of strangers with strange ways. He cared nothing for anyone there, and when he spoke they could hardly understand them. He raged and spoke less; they were all his enemies now.

      Days went by like a flutter of leaves, and then the child was in a broad courtyard that smelled of mist. Smooth-paved stones under his feet, a tall man laid his hand on the boy's head, and Zex made out a few words: "Poor little prince . . . enough sorrow . . . no one will harm you now." The child's heart almost burst with gratitude for this King Hawk's kindness.

      Ess-Issa said, "The blue strand."

      Through the flutter of memories Ware glimpsed fire and blood again. A taller Zex wielding a heavier sword, shouting, "I go with the King, I'm no traitor!" And so into exile again.

      "Here is the controlling cord," she murmured.

      Then they were in a forest. Zex was kneeling before King Hawk, who said, very low, "I hold the talisman of the King's Will. Lay your hand on mine and remember who you are."

      Zex put his hand on Hawk's fist, and then . . . wind and storm. Fire and blood. He felt a pleasure like nothing he had ever known. All the angers of his life rose in his mind, and he rejoiced in them: FREE! Now he could bite anyone who threatened him. The world turned red in his narrowing mind as the bear rose on its hind legs clashing its jaws.

      Cool as turquoise, Ess-Issa pondered this new element in the tapestry of the Berach's life. But Ware, engulfed by that sea of blood, struggled to free himself.

      "No!" He shouted aloud, opening his eyes.

      Ess-Issa was beside him, still as stone, her hand on the Berach's hand. Zex was immobile, his face rapt and sleeping.

      Beyond Ess-Issa was Steel. Her eyes, too, were shut. "Is she with them," he wondered, "Is she with Ess-Issa, thinking Zex's thoughts, drowning in blood?" But when he looked into her mind, she was elsewhere, in a calm silence of her own. Nothing could touch her there.

      Ess-Issa's attention turned toward Ware. All the time she was sifting Zex's memories, she had been watching Ware, testing his understanding and measuring his strength. Now, when he drew back from the Bear's violence, she said to him, "Don't leave us. You have more to learn."

      There was no room for thought in the bear's narrow mind, only emotion. "Good to taste blood. Good to have long claws and sharp teeth." Raising its forepaws, the bear towered over the man before him — his enemy! — eager to kill.

      Then the bear stopped, compelled by a force that was stronger than itself. It came down on all fours, laid a docile paw in Hawk's waiting hand and became a man again.

      When Zex was himself, he wept. "Sire, Let me be your man all my life. Let me die for you. Let me never forget you again."

      In a grieving voice, Ess-Issa said, "Now I see it all. Prince of the Bear Country, I have seen into your future, and the repeating pattern of your life is clear: I promise you that you will not fail your oath, and you will die true to your every loyalty."

      Zex gave a trembling sigh as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. In a flash of understanding, Ware realized that Zex had always feared that he might somehow again betray a trust without knowing how he had done it. Born in the child's mind, Ware had seen the dread grow man-size within the man. Now Ess-Issa had closed the wound, and it could begin to heal.

      "Compared to such healing," Ware thought, "A knowledge of the future is only a little thing." There were tears in his eyes. Were they Zex's tears or his own?

      "The future?" Ess-Issa said, "Surely you know it is not motionless . . . it is a mountain of cloud, and it is moved by the wind of your will."

      Her words were sliding off the surface of his mind. "Every stone of it is laid by the same hands that built the memories you call your past . . . built by your own hands."

      Ware was looking at Steel. Her eyes were shut, her eyelids smooth as a child's.

      Ess-Issa said, "But even so, all our little strivings are shadows of the Serpent's Will. He dreamed our meeting here tonight a thousand years before our lives began. It is not I who choose. He chooses us to do his work, and we can freely give our strength, or we can struggle against his power and be crushed by it."

      Ware thought, "Steel, what are you dreaming?"

      Ess-Issa said, "The Serpent bids us work, and we must work. Does he set us a hopeless task? I do not know. I only know that I must forge his weapons in my fire. And I cannot protect the weapons I have made for him."

      Then in a voice full of tears: "Oh, my poor Itok! Was your love only another lever the Serpent used to move the world?"

      Ware was not listening. He was in the center of a dreaming silence.

      A long time later, Ware opened his eyes and saw Ess-Issa watching him through her gauzy veil. "I have been patient. I have been temperate. But I am hungry. Come here to me now."

      Ware could see her skin shimmering beneath the veil. He lifted the silky stuff (soft as mist.) and stared into her brilliant eyes. "Closer still . . ."

      Her silent, pink mouth drew him. The painted, closed eye on her forehead seemed to flutter. Her hands were hot to his touch. Hot as fever — burning him.

      "Will you kiss the Serpent's daughter? Do you dare?"

      Ware kissed her, and he was lost.

      Waves of agony rolled through him. Beyond the pain was ecstasy . . . and beyond the ecstasy was more pain.

      He saw the desert and the turquoise castle in its reflecting pool. Ess-Issa's lips burned him, and he saw himself in her mind, breast to breast with her, locked in her embrace. "Ah, sweet," she whispered against his lips. "And strong. It's been a long time since I tested strength with one so strong."

      The painted eye on her forehead flew open — and it seemed natural that he should begin to see into his own life. Through a dazzling blur of light he saw his Uncle Baker and Aunt Hearth, and the forest that surrounded his village. Again he felt the shock of meeting Steel's yellow eyes in the firelight. He saw Ember, and Zex. He saw a caged falcon in a sumptuous room. He saw King Hawk, shining in Zex's memory. The king had the same yellow eyes as Steel.

      Suddenly, very clearly, Ware saw a crowned man sitting on a carved throne, casting a net of malignant power across the river to catch them all. Beware. The fine strands were shining like metal in the darkness.

      The raft was sliding into the net! He began to struggle. They'd be caught in it. Steel!

      "Hush." Ess-Issa was in his mind. "You're safe. Safe. Long days you guarded me as I slept, but I am your guardian tonight. No harm will come to you."

      Ess-Issa's eyes were green as morning and he was falling into them. The threads of his life were flying apart and someone was reweaving them again — he was walking along the corridor of a castle. Someone called his name, but it was a name he'd never heard, except perhaps in dreams.

      Then he was in a dark place, and he was cold.

      Falling again, he was in the midst of a battle. No, he was in a great gallery of evil pictures. He was struggling in the dark, . . . calling aloud. His mind was on fire!

      Too much. It was too much — everything was swallowed in a wash of flame.

      He was falling and Ess-Issa was beside him — she was the voice that called; she was the dark; she was the battle; she was the fire that consumed him. Anguish. And within it a core of exquisite pleasure.

      She released him at last, and as he lay exhausted beside her, he saw that she was . . . filled. Replete. "Ah, Dearest," she murmured, "Now I can sleep again."

      "Ess-Issa . . ." he croaked.

      The green eyes were closing. "What is it, love?"

      "Wh-what happened to me? What have I seen?"

      "You tasted the kiss of the Serpent's Daughter," she answered tenderly, "I've put my hand into your future — and drunk a little of your life."

      He was too weary to understand. For a while he thought of nothing. Then sleep came, with dreams of a desert of gold, glittering under a pitiless sun.

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