soul that desired the punishment the Void offered. Yet when the demons attacked you fought them. You would not willingly let your soul be extinguished.’
‘I have no memories of this.’
‘Some will come back. You are now a creature of the flesh once more. Memories of the flesh return far more swiftly than the recollections of spirit.’
‘Why am I here, Gamal? What does Landis think I can do?’
The old man shrugged. ‘He does not truly know. I do not know. Perhaps you can do nothing. It seems to me that even were you to take up the swords again you would not be able to turn back Jiamad armies.
It is a mystery, Skilgannon. Life is full of mysteries.’ Holding tightly to the blanket round his shoulders, the old man rose to his feet and tottered out to the balcony. Skilgannon followed him. Gamal settled himself into a wicker chair, a thick cushion against his lower back. ‘Beautiful, is it not?’ he said, waving a thin hand towards the distant mountains.
‘Yes,’ Skilgannon agreed.
‘I can still see them in my mind, though if I need to I can float my spirit free. I did so earlier, and observed your meeting with some of our Jiamads. You are not a man who scares easily.’
‘Whom did they kill?’
‘I think you know the answer to that. Longbear killed the one you downed. Tore out his throat.’
Gamal sighed. ‘Once - a long time ago - Longbear was a friend of mine. A good man.’
‘Yet you turned him into a beast.’
‘Yes, we did. Needs must when the wolves gather.’ Gamal gave a weak laugh. ‘I gave him the name Longbear. He was a man who admired bears. The admiration he felt for them was what killed him. He used to observe them. Full of confidence he would walk the high country, learning all he could about their habits. He wrote many of them down. One day he was watching a female leading her cubs to one of the upper waterfalls. She suddenly turned on him. Have you ever seen a bear attack?’
‘Yes. For creatures so large their speed is terrifying.’
‘As he discovered. He was mauled. A group of hunters found him. They brought him back, but there was nothing we could do. The wounds were not only hideous, but became infected. When he was dying he offered himself for the joining. We melded him with a young bear.’
‘Does he remember who he was?’ asked Skilgannon.
Gamal shook his head. ‘Some Jiamads do. They do not last long. They are driven mad. Usually a new personality emerges. Human attributes - loyalty, friendship - are mostly absent.’
‘Are all your Joinings volunteers?’
‘No. Most are criminals - outlaws, thieves, rapists, killers. They are condemned to die by the judges, and, upon their deaths, they are melded.’
‘It does not seem wise,’ said Skilgannon, ‘to make a killer even more powerful.’
‘No, it does not,’ agreed Gamal, ‘and that is where the jewels come in. You saw that they had stones embedded in their temples?’
‘Yes.’
‘Through them we control the Jiamads. We can administer pleasure or pain, keep them alive or kill them. They know this. It keeps them subservient. The Eternal’s Jiamads have no such stones. But then she cares nothing if they go on a rampage and slay peasants.’
A light breeze whispered over the balcony wall. Gamal shivered and returned to his room, where there was a fire lit. The old man went to it and knelt before the dying flames. Holding out his hand he gauged the heat, then fumbled for a log, which he added to the blaze. ‘Being blind is such a bore,’ he said.
‘It seems to me that if you have the magic to meld man and beast you should be able to heal your eyes,’ Skilgannon observed.
‘And we can. But I will use it no more,’ said Gamal. Returning to his chair he sat down and sighed. T
have lived for many lifetimes. I was arrogant, and believed I served the greater good. It was a deceit.
Reborns deceive themselves so easily. We are immortal and therefore, somehow, important. Such a nonsense. But let us