Chapter Fifteen An Island in the Flood #3
“We know many things, Queen Shahrnavāz. We have even been able to discover something about the origin of these troubles.”
The gryphon courtiers and warriors in the great hall were all still attending with passionate interest. In any other court, Malcolm thought, it would be usual at this point for the principals to retire to a smaller space and discuss the business privately, but clearly Shahrnavāz was happy to continue talking in front of everyone there, and probably the witches too were used to open councils.
Pan was sitting close by on the floor, turning to each speaker in turn, fierce with interest, and no doubt, Malcolm thought, wondering how all this would affect Lyra. Well, so was he.
“Tell us about the origin, then,” said the gryphon queen. “What has happened to bring this about? This is not a recent matter. We have noticed changes in the atmosphere for millennia.”
“And of course so have we. There are many natural things that affect the air: volcanoes, sunspots, meteor strikes, ocean currents. We are familiar with those, as you are. Nature usually rallies, and the atmosphere recovers. But for three centuries now there has been another matter at work. I say three centuries; some of our clan-queens would say two millennia. It’s impalpable and silent.
It drifts in invisible clouds and can’t be described or fought or destroyed.
It’s not possible to describe with our language, maybe with any language. ”
“Then why are you talking about it?” said Shahrnavāz. “This kind of chatter is pointless. The phenomenon you describe might as well not exist.”
“May I speak, Your Majesty?” said Pantalaimon.
The gryphon queen looked down at the daemon, so small and so confident, and glared but said nothing.
Pan went on, “I have learned that the wisdom of the gryphons distinguishes between an outer kingdom and an inner kingdom. The outer kingdom is the world we can travel through and measure and make maps of, and gryphons and witches and humans alike can share and understand it. The inner kingdom comprises everything to the distance of the furthest star, and includes the mysteries of the heart and the mind. The witches have a similar understanding. What Queen Tilda Vasara is describing is a matter of the inner kingdom as well as the outer. Unless we realize that, it will be hard to come to an agreement about anything.”
Before Shahrnavāz could speak, Tilda Vasara said, “The daemon is right, Your Majesty. I believe that some men and women have another phrase for your inner kingdom: they call it the secret commonwealth. The influence I’ve been describing affects that part of our world, your inner kingdom, the realm of the understanding. ”
Queen Shahrnavāz turned to Pan again. “When we spoke before, you told me about this thing you have been searching for, daemon, the thing you call the imagination. Tell me again what you said.”
“I believe it helps us to move between the inner and the outer kingdoms, Your Majesty. It is very much a matter of the secret commonwealth.”
The gryphon queen said nothing for almost a minute. She bowed her head to gaze towards the floor, and then turned to look at Tilda Vasara, and Pan, and finally at Malcolm.
Then she raised her eyes to look directly at the vizier.
“Summon Master Ruzbeh,” she said.
The vizier moved to give a quiet order to one of the guards, and then returned to his place.
No one spoke or moved. Malcolm tried to estimate how much time was passing; it must have been five minutes, he thought, before there was a stirring among the gryphons, and a murmur of talk, and then the ranks parted to let through a very old man, a human being, not a gryphon.
His daemon was a jerboa, who sat on his shoulder, bright-eyed and curious.
The old man was leaning on two sticks, and Malcolm stood to offer his stool, a gesture that pleased the old man and caused the Queen to stare at the vizier again; another few moments passed; and then came a gryphon with a third stool, which Malcolm took gratefully.
Queen Shahrnavāz spoke to Master Ruzbeh in Persian, of which Malcolm could understand enough to know that she was giving a summary of what had been said, and accurately at that.
The old man listened closely, his head bent towards her, which made Malcolm think he might be a little deaf; but his eyes turned to Malcolm from time to time, and to Pan, and to Tilda Vasara: ancient eyes that glittered with speculation.
When the Queen had finished her account of the discussion so far, Master Ruzbeh nodded and said a word or two in the same language. Then he turned to the witch.
“I have no northern languages, I regret,” he said, his voice soft and hoarse but clear. “I hope we shall be able to speak in English.”
“Yes, that would be best,” she replied.
“Is that the case for you too, sir?” he said to Pan, who managed to contain his surprise and say:
“Oh, yes, that would be best for me too.”
Then to Malcolm the old councillor said in Persian, “You can understand my language, I see, but it would be easier in yours.”
Malcolm nodded, and Master Ruzbeh continued in English.
“If Her Majesty is in agreement, we shall continue like this. You have been speaking about a phenomenon that I have not myself experienced. One reason for that could be that my senses are dull with age. But your people, Your Majesty, have spoken to me about changes like those you have been discussing, changes they have noticed in the skies. Things that would mean less, perhaps, to those of us who are creatures of the ground. I have read much and heard much more in the course of my life, and never has this or anything like it appeared in any history, any poem, any chronicle that I know. Furthermore, reports of it have increased rapidly in the past weeks.”
He stopped to rest for a moment. Malcolm could hear the rattle of the old man’s breath in his lungs.
“One witness whose reports are detailed and accurate,” Master Ruzbeh went on, “has noticed that in the recent past this depletion in the richness of the air sometimes occurs in regions where there has been evidence of sulfurous or fulminating activity at the level of the ground. No cause has been observed for this new effect; it seems to be some eruptive or explosive phenomenon, possibly volcanic in origin, though not necessarily occurring in volcanic regions.”
Malcolm felt a jolt at once, and he knew that Pan felt it too: they were both remembering Glenys Godwin’s messages on the lodestone. He sensed Tilda Vasara turning to look at him.
Master Ruzbeh continued. “In the absence of any more information than that, Queen Shahrnavāz, I can only speculate. This activity might be the cause of the decay of the air, or it might be a result of it. It might not be connected with it at all except by coincidence. Without further knowledge, speculation is all I can offer, and I can assure you that my speculation would be more or less valueless.” The old man paused to clear his throat; it took him some time, and his voice was weaker when he spoke.
“There is a word,” he went on, “which I have heard mentioned in this context, but whose meaning is a mystery to me. It is the word alkahest. Your Majesty, my knowledge is small, and its boundaries firm. I can tell you no more.”
Another jolt. Malcolm looked at Pan, and knew they were both remembering the lodestone message, for the second time.
Queen Shahrnavāz said, “Humans have been causing explosions for centuries. If they do it to find gold, we let them. These explosions you talk of, Master Ruzbeh: Are they in gold-bearing regions? Or are they searching for something else?”
“I have seen it happen,” said Tilda Vasara, before the old man could speak.
“Some uniformed men caused an explosion near a spring that was sacred, and killed a shaman who tried to stop them. We could not understand why anyone would benefit from such an act. There was nothing valuable in the ground. We killed the men, of course. But we’ve heard of others doing similar things elsewhere. ”
Malcolm looked at Pan, who nodded; and then he turned to Shahrnavāz and Tilda Vasara and took a deep breath and said, “Your Majesties, may I speak?”
Those royal gryphon eyes, and the green eyes of the witch, might have made anyone quail, but he faced them calmly, and summoned all the clarity he could command.
“From what I have seen,” he began, “from what I have heard, and from what I can deduce, at various points on the surface of the earth there are places where it is possible to pass out of this world and into another.
Places like this are rare and hard to find, and when they are known about they are often revered by the few people who know, and who try to keep them secret.
The explosions are the work of the Magisterium, of which you have no doubt heard.
Their aim in destroying the openings can only be guessed at, but there are clues in what they have said and other things they have done.
The word alkahest, which Master Ruzbeh mentioned, has also appeared in connection with this subject, but, like him, I have no information about what it means.
“However, from what Tilda Vasara and others have told me, it seems that the openings have been important to your peoples in, among other things, maintaining the goodness of the air. That being so, the Magisterium is doing evil work in trying to close them, and what we should do—gryphons and witches together, and we few humans who know about it—is to form an alliance to frustrate the work of the Magisterium, and of any other human organization that shares their aims, such as the group known as the men from the mountains, and commercial bodies like Thuringia Potash, who seek only to make money. Our task is to protect the openings between the worlds, whose closure and destruction is causing so much damage. That is our task.”
“One moment, artificer,” said the Queen. “Let us be as clear as we can. What, precisely, is causing the damage we have been hearing about, this degradation of the air? The explosions? Or simply the fact that these openings are being closed?”
Malcolm nodded deeply and said, “I apologize for not speaking more precisely. Master Ruzbeh was correct a few moments ago to point out that it’s not always easy to distinguish a result from a cause.
Besides, I would add that some phenomena have more causes than one.
The degradation of the air, for example, is unlikely to be only the result of the explosions.
As Queen Tilda Vasara explained, changes in the air have been troubling witches for centuries, whereas these particular explosions are much more recent in date.
“Because of what I’ve learned elsewhere, I am inclined to believe that although the explosions and the decay of the air are connected, it is not as cause and effect.
“In the case of the explosions, we know that they are being carried out by agents of the Magisterium. All we can say for certain about their purpose is that they are doing it to close these openings. If all they wanted was to change the composition of the air, there are many things they could have done before now to bring that about. I think, Queen Shahrnavāz, that we have reached the limit of what we all know, and it is time to take action. Our enemy is closing these openings; it is our duty to keep them open. I say we should join together to carry that out. It will take immense work and danger. I ask Your Majesties to consider this question with all the wisdom and experience your peoples have. Will you form a great alliance to do it?”
Yes, they will, thought Pan. They will now.