‘The stone remembers my tunes,’ he said seriously. Then he laughed at the look of confusion on Yasha’s face. ‘Each block is created by the bonding of millions of fragments, and each fragment also contains millions of particles. Possibly each particle is also a composite of many smaller pieces. The Music goes into the stone, absorbed into each fragment, each particle. And the song goes on – perhaps for ever – within the structure.’
‘I can’t hear it,’ said Yasha.
‘And yet the Music is all around us. The universe is a song, Yasha. We are part of it. Have you ever wondered why Man is so drawn to music? Why we gather wherever it is played. Why we dance to it, adjusting our bodies to the rhythms?’
‘Because it feels good,’ said the Vagar.
‘Yes, it feels good. It feels natural, for that is what it is. Those moments when music touches our souls remind us that we are part of the Great Song. All of us – Avatar, Vagar, tribesman, nomad. And every tree and plant, and bird and animal. We are all essential to the harmony of the Music.’
‘Maybe so, Holy One, but it seems to me that the Avatars have been granted all the best tunes.’ He regretted his words instantly, for they came dangerously close to dissension. But Anu merely nodded.
‘You are quite right, Yasha. But nothing is for ever, whatever my brothers prefer to believe. This structure we are creating together is not for the Avatar alone. It is for the world. For you, and your children, and the children of your children.’
‘I do not have any children, Holy One.’
Anu laid his slender hand on Yasha’s shoulder. ‘You have seventeen children,’ he said. ‘And you sired another this evening. You really should make an effort to keep in touch with your women.’
Yasha chuckled. ‘The women I sleep with have many partners, Holy One. Hard to say who fathered which child. And I like it that way. Have you ever been married?’
‘No, I cannot say the idea ever appealed to me.’
‘Me neither. Maybe when I get old and I want a little more warmth in my bed.’
‘I have been old,’ said Anu. ‘There is some joy, but no warmth to be found.’
With that he bade his foreman good night and walked slowly away to his tent.
Chapter Seventeen
Sofarita sat quietly in an ante-room outside the Council Chamber, her eyes closed, her face serene. Two Avatar guards stood close by. One was thinking of the new horse he had acquired, and whether it would be as fast as its sire. He was also considering whether or not to have it gelded. The other guard was thinking of Sofarita, and how good it would be to bed her. Their thoughts were intrusive and Sofarita tried to push them away.
The simplest method was to float free of her body and close her spirit ears to their considerations. This she did, and was immediately rewarded with a sense of peace. Now they were merely anonymous soldiers.
It had been a long and interesting day. First Questor Ro had taken her to his house. Sofarita had never been inside so spectacular a home, with its bright rooms, exquisite furniture, its wonderfully woven rugs, and its garden filled with flowering trees and shrubs. Here she had eaten a mouth-watering meal and had been waited upon by servants. The plate upon which her meal was served was blue and white, glazed to a brilliant shine, and her wine was deep and red and rich beyond anything she had tasted before. During the afternoon Questor Ro sent for a gown-maker. He had arrived with a score of dresses and ankle-length gowns in materials so soft and intoxicating that the woman Sofarita had once been could easily have believed she had died and been brought home to live with the gods. But she was not that woman any longer, and the luxury and splendour of Avatar life seemed now to be ephemeral and insubstantial. Water drunk from a golden goblet was still water, and the same, free, sunlight glittered from glass and diamond alike. Wealth merely symbolized might, and Sofarita needed no symbols. Day by day her intellect was growing. And with it her power.