Mirani shook her head. ‘You see old people all the time, Rael. If Anu has called for you then the matter is of importance. As I said, he is not fickle, and he certainly is not frivolous. Perhaps he has experienced another vision. You must go to him.’
‘I know.’ Taking a cloth he wiped the blue smear from her cheek. ‘You should return to the Council,’ he said. ‘You are ten times wiser than Caprishan.’
‘I no longer have any interest in politics.’
‘That is something I have never understood.’
She smiled. ‘The moment you do you will walk away as I did.’
‘You think what I do has no merit?’
‘Not at all. Society will always need to be governed. But here is a question for you, my dear. What does a normal man desire?’
‘A family, a home, children. Enough food on the table. Health and a little wealth,’ he said.
‘Exactly. And when a man has these things, but desires to control – as a councillor – the lives of others, that makes him abnormal. A man who seeks to rule everyone must necessarily be extremely abnormal. It could be argued that such a desire to rule should disqualify any applicant.’
Rael laughed. ‘In that case you are the perfect councillor, since you have no desire to be one.’
Her smile faded. ‘Perhaps. But I served for sixty years, Rael, and I saw too much. Now go and see Anu. Give him my love.’
* * *
On his favourite grey gelding the Questor General rode through the Park of the West, and up over the clifftops. There was a cool breeze coming from the sea, and the smell of salt was strong in the air. He rode down through the small wood and onto the paved road that led down to the docks. Then he cut to the right, guiding the grey up along the unpaved trail until he reached the wrought-iron gates of Anu’s home. Two Avatar soldiers saluted as he dismounted. Leaving his horse with them he strolled through the grounds and was met by the same acolyte who had brought the message. This man, his head shaved, but his beard dyed blue, led him through the house and up to a small library on the first floor. Heavy curtains were drawn across the windows, shutting out all natural light, and the room was lit by three glowing lanterns. Anu was sitting in a deep leather chair, an open scroll upon his lap. He was asleep, but woke as the acolyte gently touched his shoulder. ‘Ah, Rael,’ said the old man, running his bony fingers through his white, shoulder-length hair. ‘Welcome to my home.’
Rael found Anu’s appearance sickening. The old man’s skin was dry and flaking, like a lizard left in the sun. His neck scrawny, fleshless and withered. Rael kept his disgust from his face and sat down opposite the frail old man. ‘Why are you putting yourself through this?’ asked Rael.
The ancient face broke into a smile. ‘Why are you not?’ he asked.
Rael shook his head. There was no point in arguing. That had all been done years ago. ‘Shall I draw back the curtains? It is a glorious day.’
‘No, Rael. I like the gloom.’ He settled back and closed his eyes again.
‘You wished to see me,’ said Rael, holding his temper.
Anu’s eyes snapped open. ‘I am sorry. One of the penalties of age, you know. Ah, of course, you don’t know. Anyway … You have four full chests, Rael. They will be the last. A volcanic eruption has destroyed the line.’
‘Four will give us a few years. Much may happen in that time.’
‘Indeed it certainly will.’ The old man’s eyes closed and, for a moment, Rael thought him to be sleeping. Then he spoke again. ‘We lose much, Rael, by being ever-young.’
‘And what is that?’
‘Flexibility. Understanding. Perspective. The physical frailties are many, but they are assuaged by a wealth of insights. All living things in nature grow, die and are reborn. Even the earth, as we have so painfully witnessed. Not so the Avatar. We have forgotten how to grow, Rael. To adapt and change. We are what we were a thousand years ago. Perhaps not even that. A thousand years ago the Avatar Prime and I designed the White Pyramid. It was a wonder, a work of genius from among a gifted people. What new inventions can we boast from the last two hundred years? What strides have we made? We are frozen in time, Rael, and we exist as merely echoes of a great song.’