‘You are the man who stole the Eyes of Alchazzar,’ said Sieben.
‘Indeed I am. A rare mistake it was. Still, the man who never made a mistake never made anything, eh?’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘I had a vision – false as it has so far turned out. I thought I could bring the Uniter to my people five centuries early. Arrogance was always my downfall. I thought to use the Eyes to raise Oshikai from the dead. To regenerate his body and summon his soul. Well, I did summon his soul.’
‘What happened?’
‘You will scarcely credit it. I still have difficulty believing it myself.’
‘I think I know,’ said Sieben. ‘He wouldn’t accept life without Shut-sen.’
‘Exactly. You are a bright fellow. Can you guess what happened next?’
‘You set off to find her body – that’s why you were caught so close to her resting-place. What I don’t understand is why you did not use the power of the jewels.’
‘Ah, but I did. That is why I was caught and killed.’
‘Tell me,’ whispered Sieben, fascinated . . .
He groaned and opened his eyes. Nosta Khan was leaning over him and Sieben swore. Druss grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet. ‘By Heavens, poet, but you gave us a scare. How are you feeling?’
‘Miffed!’ said Sieben. ‘A moment longer and he would have told me where he hid the jewels.’
‘You spoke to Shaoshad?’ said Nosta Khan.
‘Yes. He told me why he took them.’
‘Describe him.’
‘A man with a curious beard, who has detachable hands and eyes.’
‘Aha!’ shouted Nosta Khan happily. ‘The spell holds, then. Does he suffer?’
‘Yes, but he is taking it rather well. Can you send me back to him?’
‘Only by cutting out your heart and casting seven spells upon it,’ the shaman told him.
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ said Sieben.
From outside came the cries of a new-born infant and Sieben smiled. ‘I hope you’ll all excuse me. This has been a wearying experience and I need some rest.’ Stooping, he gathered the hair, knuckle-bones, pouch and shreds of parchment.
‘What are you doing with those?’ asked Nosta Khan.
‘Souvenirs of an interesting experience,’ he said. ‘I shall show them to my grandchildren and brag about my visit to the Underworld.’
Zhusai was afraid, though not with a simple fear, like the thought of dying. It was worse than that, she realized. Death was but another doorway, but this was a kind of extinction. At first her dreams of Shul-sen had been merely that — curiously unpleasant visions she suffered when sleeping. But now she was hearing voices whispering in her subconscious, and her own memories were becoming vague and blurred. Not so the memories of another life – a life as consort to the renegade chieftain Oshikai Demon-bane. These were becoming sharper, more distinct. She remembered the ride through the long hills, making love in the grass in the shadow of Jiang-shin, the Mother of Mountains, wearing her dress of white silk on the day of the wedding in the White Palace of Pechuin.
‘Stop it!’ she cried, as the memories seemed to engulf her. ‘It is not me. Not my life. I was born in . .. in .. .’ But the memories would not come. ‘My parents died. I was raised by my grandfather . . .’ For a moment the name was lost to her. Then: ‘Chorin-Tsu!’ she shouted – triumphantly. Talisman entered the room, and she flew : to him. ‘Help me!’ she begged him.
‘What is wrong, my love?’
‘She is trying to kill me,’ sobbed Zhusai. ‘And I cannot fight her.’
Her almond eyes were wide open, fear radiating from them. ‘Who is trying to kill you?’ he asked her.
‘Shul-sen. She wants my life . . . my body. I can feel her within me, her memories swamping me.’
‘Calm yourself,’ he said soothingly, taking her to the bed and sitting her down. Moving to the window Talisman called out to Gorkai, who came running up the stairs. Talisman told him of Zhusai’s fears.
‘I have heard of this,’ said Gorkai grimly. ‘Spirit possession.’