ECHOES OF THE GREAT SONG by David A. Gemmell

Shevan watched the procession and smiled. ‘They seem happier now, sir,’ he said.

Anu nodded. The work was still slower than he had expected and he decided to make changes to the rotas. From now on the crews would work in three shorter shifts instead of two long ones, and there would be rewards for those who matched the work targets set them. ‘What is the hourly rate for placing the blocks?’ he asked Shevan.

‘A week ago it was six, but now we are closer to nine. It is getting better, sir.’

‘It needs to be higher than twelve. What is the situation at the quarry?’

Shevan looked troubled. ‘The tools are wearing out much faster than anticipated, sir. And there is a problem with the pegs. It appears—’

‘That the wood is not absorbing water.’

‘Yes, sir. You anticipated this?’

‘I wish that I had,’ replied Anu wearily.

Stonemasons drilled holes in the sandstone then drove dry wooden pegs into the holes. When water was added the pegs expanded, splitting the stone neatly. This is how the blocks were created. But, somehow, the acceleration of time was affecting the absorption rate.

Anu strolled across to the Gepha pyramid. It had been the first attempt, seventy years ago, to build a power source. It had failed. As Anu had known it would, for it was built without the Music. Now it served as a base for his own work, and labourers were busy chiselling out the blocks, harnessing them and, by careful use of massive hides full of water, were counterbalancing their weight and lowering them to the ground. The work was slow and dangerous. Had he possessed two chests Anu would have used the enhanced power of the Music to lessen the weight of the blocks, but with only one he needed to conserve the energy for the courses of his own pyramid.

A commotion began some way to his left. It was close to the mist barrier he had summoned around the valley. He and Shevan hurried across to where a crowd of workers had gathered.

An incredibly old man lay on the ground. His limbs were twitching, and, as the men watched, the flesh fell away from him, the skin drying, becoming leather, then peeling away from his bones like worn papyrus.

‘It was Jadas,’ whispered one man. ‘He crossed the mist last night to meet his wife.’

Anu stepped forward. ‘Be calm!’ he said. ‘You have all been warned about the magic used here. I told you all that it would be death to cross the mist.’

‘We are prisoners here!’ shouted another man.

That is not true,’ said Anu. ‘I explained the dangers when you agreed to the work. But any who wish to leave can do so when the supplies are due, and the mist is lifted. I am Anu. I do not lie. This man was a fool. There are many fools in the world. He was told of the dangers and chose to disbelieve them.’

‘What happens if the magic goes wrong?’ shouted the first man. ‘We could all end up like Jadas.’

‘Come now, lads,’ said Yasha, the Foundations King, striding forward to stand among them. ‘You’ve all heard of the Holy One. He’s not a liar. And I, for one, am looking forward to going home with eight thousand silver pieces. I’m going to build this wonder for Anu, and then I’m going to buy a home. Not build it. Buy it! I’m going to sit in the shade and drink fine wine. And upon my knee will sit the prettiest whore in Egaru.’

‘We could all die here, Yasha!’ objected the first man.

‘You die if you want to, Podri. I’m going to live to be rich. Now let us bury this bag of bones and get on with the Wonder.’

‘You honestly believe we’re safe?’ asked another man.

‘Safe?’ replied Yasha with a chuckle. ‘Safe? When has a labourer ever been safe? But for eight thou­sand silvers I’ll risk a little danger.’ He swung to Anu. ‘Am I safe from your magic, Holy One?’ he asked.

‘You are. I promise you,’ Anu told him.

‘Good enough for me,’ said Yasha. ‘Now I’m off to find the least ugly whore.’