Page 297 of The Liveship Traders Trilogy

T HE TANGLE HAD grown. Maulkin seemed to take both pleasure and pride in this.

Shreever had more mixed feelings. While the larger contingency of serpents that travelled with them now assured greater protection against predators, it meant that food supplies had to be shared.

She would have felt better if more of the serpents were sentient, but many of those who followed the tangle were feral creatures who gathered with them only out of instinct.

As they travelled and hunted together, Maulkin closely observed the feral serpents.

Any that showed signs of promise were seized when the tangle paused for rest. Kelaro and Sessurea usually overpowered the chosen target, bearing him down and letting him struggle against their combined weight and strength until he was gasping.

Then Maulkin would join them, to shake loose his toxins and weave his body through the winding loops of the memory dance while they demanded that the newcomer recall his own name.

Sometimes it worked, sometimes it did not.

Not all of those who could recall their own names were able to retain their identities for long.

Some remained simple, or drifted back into their animalistic ways by the next tide.

But some few did recover and hold on to higher thought.

There were even a few who followed the tangle aimlessly for a few days, and then suddenly recalled both names and civilized manners.

The core group of serpents had grown to twenty-three, while easily twice that number ghosted behind them.

It was a large tangle. Even the most generous provider could not keep them all satisfied.

Every rest period, they pondered the future.

Maulkin’s answers seldom satisfied them.

He spoke as plainly as he could, and yet the words were confusing.

Shreever could sense his own bewilderment behind his prophecies; her hearts went out to him.

Sometimes she feared that the others might turn on him out of frustration.

She almost longed for the days when it was only herself and Sessurea and Maulkin, seeking for those answers.

When she whispered as much to Maulkin one evening, he rebuked her.

‘Our folk have dwindled. Confusion besets us from all sides. If any of us are to survive, we must gather as many as we can. It is the simplest law of the Plenty. A multitude must be born for a few to survive.’

‘Born,’ she said, the question unspoken.

‘The recombination of old lives into new lives. It is what we all hear summoning us. Our time to be serpents is over. We must find She Who Remembers. That one will guide us, to where we can seek rebirth as new creatures.’

His words made her shudder her whole length, but with dread or anticipation, she could not say. Others had drawn close to hear his words. Their questions swarmed thick as capelin on a moon-lit tide.

‘What sort of new creatures?’

‘How can we be reborn?’

‘Why is our time over?’

‘Who will remember for us?’

Maulkin’s great copper eyes spun slowly.

Colour rippled his length. He struggled.

She could sense it, and wondered if the others did as well.

He strained to reach beyond himself, grasping at knowledge and bringing back only disconnected fragments.

It drained him more than a full day of travelling.

She also sensed that he was as discontented with his fragmentary answers as the others were.

‘We will be as we once were. The memories you cannot understand, the dreams that frighten come from that time. When they come to you, do not chase them away. Ponder them. Pursue them into the open and share them.’ He paused, and when he spoke again, it was more slowly and with less certainty.

‘We are long past due to change, so long past due that I fear something has gone terribly wrong. Someone will remember for us. Others will come to protect us and guide us. We will know them. They will know us.’

‘The silver provider?’ Sessurea asked quietly. ‘We followed, but she knew us not.’

Sylic twined uneasily through the heart of the resting tangle. ‘Silver. Silver-grey,’ he hissed. ‘Do you remember, Kelaro? Xecres found the great silver-grey creature and called us to follow it.’

‘I do not recall that,’ Kelaro trumpeted softly. He opened and closed his huge silver eyes. They spun with shifting colour. ‘Except, perhaps, as a dream. A bad dream.’

‘It attacked us when we gathered close around it. It threw long teeth at us.’ Sylic turned a slow knot through his length, pausing when he came to a scar gouged deep.

The scales that had grown over it were thick and uneven.

‘It bit me here,’ the scarlet whispered hoarsely.

‘It bit me but it did not devour me.’ He turned to look deep into Kelaro’s eyes, as if seeking confirmation.

‘You tore its tooth from my flesh for me. It had pierced me and it stayed in me, festering.’

Kelaro lidded his gaze. ‘I do not recall,’ he replied regretfully.

A rippling ran the length of Maulkin’s body.

His false-eyes shone brighter than they had in a very long time.

‘The silver being attacked you?’ he asked incredulously.

‘He attacked you!’ Anger was a rip tide in his voice.

‘How could it be that one who gives off the smell of memories turns on those who come to him for help?’ He lashed his great head back and forth, his mane coming erect with toxins.

‘I do not understand!’ he suddenly bellowed out.

‘There are no memories of this, not even the taste of a memory! How can it be that these things happen? Where is She Who Remembers?’

‘Perhaps they forgot,’ Tellur said with black humour.

The slender green minstrel had not gained much strength since he had recalled his own name.

The effort of maintaining his identity seemed to consume all his energy.

How he had been before he had forgotten himself, no one could say.

Now he was a dour-humoured, sharp-tongued whip.

Despite recalling who he had been, he could seldom bring himself to sing.

Maulkin whipped about suddenly to face him. His mane was full standing, his colours rippling. ‘They forgot?’ he roared in outraged astonishment. ‘Have you seen this in a memory or dream? Do you recall a song that speaks of a time when all forget?’

Tellur sleeked his mane to his throat, making himself smaller and less significant. ‘It was a jest, great one. An evil jest from a sour minstrel. I beg pardon for it.’

‘A jest with perhaps a grain of truth in it. Many of us have forgotten. Could the ones who remember, the memory-keepers of us all, have likewise failed in their tasks?’

A despondent silence greeted his question.

If it was so, it meant they were abandoned.

They had no future save to wander, until one by one their minds failed and grew dark.

The serpents gripped one another tighter, holding fast to what little future might remain to them.

Maulkin abruptly tugged free of them all.

He turned an immense circle and then began a series of slow looping turns.

‘Think with me!’ he invited them all. ‘Let us consider if this could be true. It could account for much. Sessurea, Shreever and I saw a silver being, one that smelled like She Who Remembers. She ignored us. Kelaro and Sylic saw a silver-grey creature. When Xecres, the leader of their tangle, sought memories of him, he attacked them.’ He whipped his body about suddenly to confront the others.

‘Is that so different from how you all behaved, as you lost your memories? Did not you ignore one another, not replying to my questions? Did not you even attack your fellows as you vied for food?’ He arched backwards, revealing his white underbelly as he flashed past them.

‘It is so clear!’ he trumpeted. ‘The minstrel has seen through to the heart of it. They have forgotten! We must force them to remember us!’

The tangle was silent, awe-stricken. Even the mindless serpents who gathered in random tangles of their own at rest-times had disengaged to watch Maulkin’s jubilant dance.

The wonder that shone in so many eyes shamed Shreever, but her doubt was too strong.

She voiced it. ‘How? How can we make them recall us?’

Maulkin suddenly darted at her. He looped her, wrapped her, and drew her forth from the tangle to join in his sensual weaving.

She tasted his toxins as she moved beside him.

They were besotted with joy, intoxicatingly free.

‘Just as we have re-awakened the others. We shall seek one, confront one, and demand that that one name its name.’

As she had danced with him, entwined and intoxicated, it had been so easy to believe it was possible. They would seek out one of the silver creatures who smelled like memories, force it to remember its purpose and to share its memories with them. And then…then they would all be saved. Somehow.

Now, as she looked up at the shape passing between them and the light, she wondered.

They had been days seeking a silver. Once they had caught the scent of one, Maulkin had allowed them only brief pauses for rest. Their purposeful pursuit had near exhausted some of them.

Slender Tellur had lost colour and bulk.

Many of the feral serpents had dropped behind as Maulkin sustained the pace.

Perhaps they would catch up with them later; perhaps they would never see them again.

For now, Shreever had thoughts only for the bulky creature that moved purposefully above them.

The tangle ghosted along in his shadow. Now that they had actually caught up with him, even Maulkin seemed daunted by their task. In bulk, the silver creature far surpassed any of the serpents. In length, he was the equal of even Kelaro.