The Blind Assassin - Margaret Atwood [54]
I appreciate your thoughtfulness.
Nothing’s too good for you. Any other little thing you want added, just let me know. Anyway. Like many peoples, ancient and modern, the Zycronians are afraid of virgins, dead ones especially. Women betrayed in love who have died unmarried are driven to seek in death what they’ve so unfortunately missed out on in life. They sleep in the ruined tombs by day, and by night they prey upon unwary travellers, in particular any young men foolhardy enough to go there. They leap onto these young men and suck out their essence, and turn them into obedient zombies, bound to satisfy the nude dead women’s unnatural cravings on demand.
What bad luck for the young men, she says. Is there no defence against these vicious creatures?
You can stick spears into them, or mash them to a pulp with rocks. But there are so many of them – it’s like fighting off an octopus, they’re all over a fellow before he knows it. Anyway, they hypnotize you – they ruin your willpower. It’s the first thing they do. As soon as you catch sight of one, you’re rooted to the spot.
I can imagine. More scotch?
I think I could stand it. Thanks. The girl – what do you think her name should be?
I don’t know. You choose. You know the territory.
I’ll think about it. Anyway, there she lies on the Bed of One Night, a prey to anticipation. She doesn’t know which will be worse, having her throat cut or the next few hours. It’s one of the open secrets of the Temple that the Lord of the Underworld isn’t real, but merely one of the courtiers in disguise. Like everything else in Sakiel-Norn this position is for sale, and large amounts are said to change hands for the privilege – under the table, of course. The recipient of the payoffs is the High Priestess, who is as venal as they come, and known to be partial to sapphires. She excuses herself by vowing to use the money for charitable purposes, and she does use some of it for that, when she remembers. The girls can hardly complain about this part of their ordeal, being without tongues or even writing materials, and anyway they’re all dead the next day. Pennies from heaven, says the High Priestess to herself as she totes up the cash.
Meanwhile, off in the distance a large, ragged horde of barbarians is on the march, intent on capturing the far-famed city of Sakiel-Norn, then looting it and burning it to the ground. They’ve already done this very same thing to several other cities farther west. No one – no one among the civilized nations, that is – can account for their success. They are neither well clothed nor well armed, they can’t read, and they possess no ingenious metal contraptions.
Not only that, they have no king, only a leader. This leader has no name as such; he gave up his name when he became the leader, and was given a title instead. His title is the Servant of Rejoicing. His followers refer to him also as the Scourge of the All-Powerful, the Right Fist of the Invincible, the Purger of Iniquities, and the Defender of Virtue and Justice. The barbarians’ original homeland is unknown, but it is agreed that they come from the northwest, where the ill winds also originate. By their enemies they’re called the People of Desolation, but they term themselves the People of Joy.
Their current leader bears the marks of divine favour: he was born with a caul, is wounded in the foot, and has a star-shaped mark on his forehead. He falls into trances and communes with the other world whenever he is at a loss as to what to do next. He’s on his way to destroy Sakiel-Norn because of an order brought to him by a messenger of the Gods.
This messenger appeared to him in the guise of a flame, with numerous eyes and wings of fire shooting out. Such messengers are known to speak in torturous parables and to take many forms: burning thulks or stones that can speak, or walking flowers, or bird-headed creatures with human bodies. Or else they might look like anyone at all. Travellers in