to those who wish to hear it.’ He made an expansive gesture with his arm to encircle the assembly with his account. ‘In all my travels throughout the Near World, I was looking for three things: firstly, evidence of the corruption that is spreading through your own land, that we now generally believe is a side-effect of the Weavers’ witchstones; secondly, the Weavers themselves, or beings analogous to them; and finally, the witchstones, since these are the source of the Weavers’ powers.’
He began stalking back and forth again, his features profiled in the sunlight from outside. ‘I am pleased to report that on two counts, I found nothing at all. Nowhere did I find any kind of blight that could not be accounted for by insect plague or other natural explanation, and none that possessed the insidious persistence of the one that affects Saramyr. And nowhere did I find anything that might be described as a Weaver, except those few that reside in distant colonies on other continents. Certainly, there are those who possess abilities unusual to the common folk; our own priests are an example, having learned to communicate in a rudimentary fashion with the spirits of our land. The honourable Kaiku tu Makaima, here present, was witness to the abilities of the Fleshcrafters of Okhamba; and there are worse things even than Fleshcrafters in the hidden world of the deep jungle. In Quraal there are the Oblates, in Yttryx the Muhd-Taal. But however these talents are attained, it is through processes either natural or spiritual. Even the Aberrants, who were born from the corruption that the Weavers create, do not actively participate in its spreading.’ He paused, ran a finger along his cheekbone. ‘I found no Aberrants outside your own shores. There were the deformed, and lame, and crippled, but these are not Aberrants, merely the way of nature. In this land, most people do not differentiate any more; though if I may say, those in this room provide the exception to that rule, and I applaud you for it.’
Kaiku watched him as he held court, her mind wandering to the lean physique that she imagined underneath his strict black Quraal clothing. Why had she rejected him, anyway? It did not have to mean anything, to share a bed with him for a night. Why allow her mistrust of her own emotions to get in the way of enjoying herself?
She realised that she was drifting, caught herself and returned to the matter at hand.
‘From this, we can surmise that the blight is responsible for Aberrancy,’ Saran was saying. ‘This we had already guessed, but now I believe it proven beyond doubt. There is no blight outside of Saramyr, and hence no Aberrants. But there are witchstones.’
This brought general consternation to the assembly. Kaiku ate a spiced dumpling and kept quiet, her eyes flickering over the suddenly animated audience.
‘He plays his crowd well,’ Cailin whispered, leaning over to her.
‘He craves the attention, I think,’ Kaiku murmured. ‘It flatters his vanity.’
Cailin gave a surprised laugh and subsided with an insinuating glance at her pupil. Kaiku ignored it.
‘But if the witchstones cause the corruption in our land, how is it that there are witchstones abroad, but no blight?’ someone called.
‘Because they have not been found yet,’ Saran said, raising a finger. The assembly hushed. ‘They lie deep in the earth. Dormant. Waiting. Waiting to be woken up.’
‘Then what wakes them up?’ asked the same man.
‘Blood,’ Kaiku said. She had meant to say it to herself, but it came out louder than she had intended and the assembly heard it.
‘Blood. Indeed,’ said Saran, giving her a disarming half-smile. ‘Of all of us here, only Kaiku has seen a witchstone. She has witnessed the human sacrifice that feeds them. She has seen the heart.’
Kaiku felt suddenly embarrassed. Her account of her infiltration into the Weavers’ monastery in the Lakmar Mountains on Fo was a subject of some scepticism among the Libera Dramach. Many argued, quite reasonably, that what she had seen in the chamber where the witchstone was kept could have been a hallucination. She had been weak from exhaustion and starvation, and had been wearing a Weaver’s Mask for days, which was dangerous to anyone’s sanity. But for all that, Kaiku knew what she saw and stuck by it. She had seen the great branches of stone that reached from the witchstone’s main mass into the walls of the cavern, too organic to be formed by pressure or any other geological force.