Threshold

20

I GRABBED for the sheet, not wanting the Magus to so witness my nakedness, but he tore it from my hand, then seized my arm, half-dragging me from the bed.

He was robed in his full vestments of office, his hair tightly clubbed back into its queue, his eyes full of fury.

“Filthy whore!” he hissed. “What have you done?”

I could say nothing, fearful that whatever I said or did might cause him to kill me.

“Did you think to subvert me into subdividing the One, as Raguel did with Ta’uz?”

My eyes widened, and his mouth thinned in satisfaction. “Yes, word of Ta’uz’s disgrace reached us back in Setkoth. Think not to so pollute me or the One.”

He hauled me closer. There was nothing in his face of the man who had been with me the night before.

“Nevertheless,” he said, his voice now soft, “I did achieve good union with the One. Perhaps I should have explored this avenue of meditation previously.”

Those words hurt me more than his hands. Boaz had left the One far behind him when he brought me to his bed. But I could understand why he lied to himself.

He wrapped his arm about my shoulders to hold me tightly against him, then placed his hand over my face. His fingers gripped me painfully, and I struggled helplessly against him.

“I can make sure that you will not conceive,” he said. “Absolutely sure –”

“No, Excellency!” I cried, “there are herbals I can –”

“Absolutely sure,” he whispered, and the power of the One flooded my body.

Nothing I had felt before prepared me for this. Even the pain he’d caused me in the workshop had been inconsequential compared to what he did now.

My breath racked in for a scream, but I was in such agony I could not let it go. The power seared through me, concentrating in my belly, roping about like a blade out of control. It was surely tearing me apart.

Another surge, and my body jerked about in his arms. I don’t know how he managed to hold me, for I was convulsing uncontrollably by now.

“Absolutely sure,” I think I heard him whisper from very far away, then he dropped me on the bed.

I came to perhaps an hour later. I whimpered, for the pain was still almost unbearable.

“You will get dressed, and then you will get out.”

My hands clenched at the sheets and I dragged myself to the side of the bed. My body screamed at the abuse it had taken and at the abuse I was now subjecting it to, but I had to get out. Had to.

My vision blurred, and I groped about for my dress, pulling it over my shoulders. Then I struggled to my feet, bent almost double, one arm wrapped about my belly, the other feeling along the wall for the door.

“I will summon you again,” he said, and I stumbled out into the blessed sunshine.

Kiamet carried me back to the tenement building. For that I will be everlastingly grateful to him. He had kind hands and an even kinder voice, and I think he said a number of unkind things about Boaz on the way.

Isphet was appalled, as were the other two women of our quarters.

“What has he done?” she whispered as she lowered me onto my sleeping pallet.

“Ensured I will not subdivide the One,” I said, then I fainted.

She washed me, and fed me a drink which eased much of the pain, then wrapped me in blankets and let me lie back down.

“You must stay here today,” she said. “Not even Boaz would insist you made an appearance at the workshop.”

“Thank you, Isphet,” I said, and grasped her hand. Apart from wanting to know what he’d done to hurt me so badly, she’d asked no further questions.

“Sleep,” she said.

I woke in the early afternoon and lay for some time, not thinking, not wanting to think. Much of the pain had subsided, but when I lifted the blankets I saw that my belly was deeply bruised, evidence of the internal hurt.

I wept then, for I was sure that he had utterly destroyed any chance I would have for bearing children. It was my penalty for witnessing what I had.

“Tirzah?”

The door to the internal courtyard opened and a figure slipped through. “Tirzah?”

“Yaqob!” and then he had me in his arms, soothing me and crying with me.

He saw the bruises, and the hurt in my eyes, and he rocked me in his arms, and promised me a death for Boaz that would pain him ten times more than he had pained me.

But that gave me little comfort, for I was not sure, even after what he’d done to me that morning, that I wanted him to die.

“Yaqob, how did you get here?”

“Shush, love,” he murmured. “I was careful. Everyone thinks I’m in Threshold, laying glass. But, after what Isphet told me this morning, I had to come…”

“Oh, Yaqob!” I sobbed anew, and he kissed me, and let me weep.

“I have to go,” he said after a while. “I dare not stay any longer.”

“I thank you,” I whispered. “But go now, for I could not bear if it you were seized on my account.”

He kissed me again, and smiled for me, although his eyes were grim, and then he was gone.

I lay for perhaps another hour, then I struggled into my wrap, combed my hair into some semblance of order, and carefully, carefully, made my way out into the street. I blinked in the sunshine. It seemed strange that everything was carrying on as normal.

But there was something I had to do. Something I had to destroy as Boaz had all but destroyed me this morning.

Very slowly I made my way to Isphet’s workshop.

She was appalled that I had left my pallet.

“You need at least a day and a night, Tirzah. And we can manage without you today.”

“I will not stay long. There is something I must do.”

And she let me go.

Some of the workers nodded to me as I crossed the floor towards the stairs, and Druse caught at my elbow, fearful to hug me. “Daughter…”

“Shush, father. I will be all right. Let me go now.”

And he did.

The stairs were hard, but the pain was receding with every hour that passed, so I managed them with reasonable dignity. Zeldon and Orteas put their arms about me, their voices murmuring, and I let them hold me for a few minutes, then I gently disengaged myself.

“Let me go now, there is something I must do.”

I went to the place where I had secreted the goblet. I had wrapped it in thick rag and cloth, and Zeldon and Orteas could not understand what was in the bundle I carried, but they did not pry.

I went back down the stairs, and made my way towards the furnace.

What I would do would kill the glass, and for that I was truly saddened, but it would have to die. I couldn’t let it live now. Not after what he’d done.

Neither could I unwrap it, for I did not want to hear its soft whispering, asking what I did to carry it so close to the heat and flame.

“Tirzah? What is that you do?” Isphet asked behind me.

“Think not that I intend to kill myself, Isphet. Please, leave me be.”

And she faded back into the workshop.

The heat of the furnace was very hot on my face, but it was comforting, and I realised why Raguel had liked to work so close to the fires. Somehow they would have scathed away so much of the hurt to which she, too, had been subjected.

I was so close to the flames now that they seared the tears from my cheeks. I lifted the bundle in my hand and stepped up to the great doorways. Beyond them, red and yellow and orange flames and streaks of heat rippled and writhed, so intensely alive they called to me.

I prepared to cast the goblet in as Raguel had once cast in the bundle that represented her child.

Sweet, sweet Tirzah, let us touch you, touch you, hold you, soothe you, love you.

“No!” I cried and raised the bundle.

Sweet Tirzah, let us love you and hold you, let us soothe away the hurt, let us speak to you, talk to you, talk to you…talk…

“No!” I sobbed, but I had lowered the bundle in my hands, and my head drooped.

Talk to us, Tirzah, let us love you, touch you, soothe you…

And there was nothing I wanted more. Nothing.

My entire body racked with sobs now, I clutched the bundle to my breast and fled into the tiny alcove at the rear of the furnace. There I curled up into a tight ball, wrapping myself about the bundled goblet.

Soothe you, soothe you, love you…

And they did, although to this day I’m not sure how they managed it. After a long time I unwrapped the goblet, and turned it over and over in my hands.

The Goblet of the Frogs was all but complete. There was some fine sanding to be done among the river reeds, but the frogs were finished, and the lacework of the cage was fine and strong, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever created.

The amber frogs were alive, crawling through the reeds, their eyes black and glistening with sympathy, reaching their cool, moist toes through the reeds to touch my hands and stroke my skin, then, suddenly shy, hiding among the waving reeds until their courage returned and they reached forth again.

Hello Tirzah.

The voices of the Soulenai, speaking to me through the mouths of the glass frogs.

I dashed away the final tears. Greetings, Soulenai.

This is a beautiful goblet, Tirzah. Deeply magical. Do not destroy it.

No. No, I won’t.

You carved it for…him.

Yes. But I do not think I will give –

Shush, and listen to what we have to say to you, Tirzah.

I kept my silence.

We watched and listened last night. We were pleased at what we heard.

They were silent for a while, and I thought they must still be overcome by what they had heard and witnessed. After a long time they spoke again.

That is the Book of the Soulenai, Tirzah.

Your book.

Yes, Tirzah. Be quiet. Let us speak, but we must of necessity be brief, and we cannot tell you it all. Listen. Boaz is an Elemental Necromancer.

No, no, it cannot be –

Yes, it can be, Tirzah, and it is. His father used that book to make him, spun magics about his conception and about the woman he made him in, and created an Elemental within her womb. Of course, he did not expect to be eaten by a water lizard within days of the conception. The boy was born and grew without his father to guide him, grew in a sterile and polluted environment where the Magi seized him and corrupted him as a child.

I thought of the scroll he had written as a nine-year-old child. Perhaps the Magi made their move when his mother died. And they never “understood” what they had in their care.

He was a Prince at court, Tirzah. The Magi seduced him in the hope that through him they could extend their power over the Chad and his heir. He has exceeded their expectations. Boaz has become a Magus of great power and purpose and influence and he works well for their cause. For Threshold.

But…

But underneath all of this lay the makings, the blood, of an extraordinary Necromancer, Tirzah. The growing boy, trying to be at one with the One, was horrified by the whispers he heard about him. Horrified by the talents he displayed. So he buried them deep. Buried his true self deep.

I thought of his residence. It was bare of anything that might whisper to him. Few metals, no gems, no glass. Wooden goblets.

Tirzah, the Magus is in almost full control. Only rarely does Boaz relax enough – and only ever with you – to reveal his true nature. Yet even with you such revelations frighten him. Terrify him.

“There is no hope for him. He will never let the Necromancer through.” I spoke aloud now, wanting to deny Boaz with my voice.

There is hope, Tirzah. There must be hope, for Boaz is the only one with a chance of destroying the horror that Threshold is becoming.

What do you mean?

He is Magus-trained, and you have felt yourself the degree of the power of the One that he commands. He understands Threshold in a manner that we, or you, cannot. Yet he is also a Necromancer. He will be able to wield powerful magic on that day he learns to combine both sides of his nature. He must be the key to Threshold’s destruction.

My mouth twisted bitterly. He will never destroy –

You must persuade him, sweet Tirzah. You must make him see who he is, teach him not to fear his hidden self, open himself to the elements, to us, to the Song of the Frogs.

He will never listen to me. He will never let himself be who he truly is. You know what he did to me. You know.

Yes, we know, sweet Tirzah, but there is hope.

Now I did laugh bitterly. Hope? Hope? After what he put me through? He will always deny his Elemental side. Always.

We believe not, Tirzah. Think, if you will. Think. He has kept the Book of the Soulenai, even though he must have known it was crafted of Elemental magic. Yes?

Yes, I said reluctantly.

He could have, should have killed you this morning, Tirzah. What true Magus, fully in control, would have let a woman live who had seen enough to think him an Elemental? Who knew that he kept an Elemental talisman? And who he knows must be Elemental herself?

What he did was bad enough.

Yes, yes it was. But even that was not as bad as it could have been.

Oh? And how much worse could it have been? He has destroyed any chance I have of bearing children. My womb has been rent and shredded.

No, Tirzah. He has hurt you badly, but he stayed the worst of the power. Your womb will recover, although it may take months, even years, to do so.

I was crying now. Even if my womb did recover, it would not lessen the betrayal of what he had done.

Tirzah, if someone visits such pain on another person, then one day that pain will rebound on them. It is the price he will eventually have to pay. Tirzah, he could have killed you, he could have permanently crippled you, but he did not.

I shook my head, not wanting to forgive him.

You do not have to forgive him, Tirzah. That is something he will have to seek from you himself. But listen to us. Listen. There is hope for the Elemental within that cruel hoax that calls itself Magus. Has he not hidden himself from Threshold? Has he not kept the Song of the Frogs alive in his heart for years and years? Tirzah, you must work to help him accept his true heritage. He’s struggling within himself now, screaming for help. Be the one to give it to him. Help him. And you know as we do that there is only one person he will let help him. You.

The Magus is too powerful…

You must find a way, Tirzah. Do all you can. Be there. Go back when he calls you. Finish the goblet and give it to him.

He destroyed the other glass.

Then we must hope that he will not destroy this one. Tirzah, do this for us. Help him, for he is the only one who can destroy Threshold – and we do not believe any of you yet realise what a terrible thing Threshold will eventually become. Help him. Soothe him, hold him, love him. Promise us this. Promise.

Yes, I promise.

I cried for a long time, then I grew sick of my tears and resolved to weep no more. I sighed and walked through the workshop, up the stairs, and sat down at the work table with Zeldon and Orteas.

Lifting a sanding strip, I sat for the five hours it took me to finish the goblet.

Zeldon’s and Orteas’ eyes widened at the sight of the glass, but they did not speak, and neither did I.