‘We are not like the Daroth! I cannot believe that.’
The Oltor sighed. ‘But, deep down, you do, Duvodas. Yours is a race whose imagination is limited to its own small appetites. Greed, lust, envy – these are the motivating forces of humankind. What redeems you is that within every man and woman there is a seed that can grow to encompass love, joy and compassion. But this seed is never allowed to prosper in fertile ground. It struggles for life among the rocks of your human soul. The Eldarin came, at last, to this realization. And here they are all around us, unmoving. Alive, and yet not living.’
‘I thought this but a frozen moment in time,’ said Duvodas. ‘I thought you had opened a Curtain on a heartbeat from the past!’
‘No, my friend, though it is a heartbeat frozen in time. This is the present. We are inside the Pearl.’ For a moment only the words failed to register. Duvo looked around him at the silent buildings and the statue-still Eldarin. ‘Rather than fight or kill,’ continued the Oltor Prime, ‘they chose
to withdraw from the world. They left behind one elderly mystic to carry the Pearl to a place of safety. He did not survive.’
‘How can I help them?’ asked Duvo. ‘How can I bring them back?’
‘First you must find Sirano and the Pearl, then bring it to the highest mountain above Eldarisa. Lodge it there and climb the Twins. Then you must play the Creation Hymn. You know it – Ranaloth taught you.’
‘I know it. But I was here once before. I cannot find the magic in these rocks.’
‘And yet you must, if the Eldarin are to live again.’
Brune took a deep, shuddering breath and woke. He sat up and looked at the Oltor. ‘You . .. are not with me any more,’ he said, fear in his voice.
‘A part of me will always be with you, Brune. And now it is time to say goodbye.’
Ozhobar was a large man, and distrustful of the spindly ladders giving access to the stripped barracks roof. Yet he climbed steadily, unwilling to allow his invention to be set in place by inferior hands. Coming to the roof, he stepped out and cast an expert eye over the work of the four carpenters, who stood by expectantly. They had constructed a large, flat surface of interlocking planks, set on four huge beams. Ozhobar strode on to it, stamping his foot here and there. It was solid, the joints neat, the pins planed down perfectly. Satisfied, he took a piece of string and summoned one of the workmen. ‘Hold this in place with your thumb,’ he said, laying one end of the string on the centre of the platform. Stretching the other end to its full length of five feet, he took a piece of chalk and traced a circle with a diameter of ten feet on the wood. The carpenter watched with curiosity as Ozhobar
shortened the string by three inches, then traced a second circle within the first. Returning the string to his pocket, he called the carpenters to him. ‘I want a series of holes drilled within the chalk lines, three inches deep and set four inches apart. No more, no less.’
‘What are they for?’ asked the team leader.
‘Pegs,’ said Ozhobar. ‘I need the work completed by noon. The rails are being delivered then.’ The Weapon Maker strode away from them to where a series of pulleys had been constructed, the ropes hanging down to the street far below. He had designed it himself to take three times the expected weight of the weapon and its ammunition. Even so his mind was full of calculations, possible problems and their likely solutions. Crossing the roof once more, he scanned the countryside beyond the northern wall. He already knew it was 400 yards to the first probable Daroth catapult site, 375 to the second, and 315 to the third. Prevailing winds in spring came from the south-east – but not always. In terms of maintaining optimum accuracy, the wind might still prove a problem.
He saw Karis on the wall some sixty feet to the north. She was talking to several officers and the veteran warrior, Necklen. Seeing him she waved and smiled. Ozhobar gave a cursory nod and turned away. Could he build a catapult? Could a blind man piss in the dark? Irritating woman.