"N-ninth... ninth-rank... a m-mage?" Amon's jaw dropped and stayed dropped, and he began to stammer.
He had heard it clearly: the old madman had said mage, not divine artist. A mage was someone who had studied divine arts privately, without the gods' permission. Such people were to be punished by the temples—and yet this one had gained power equal to a demigod's. It was beyond belief!
The old madman fell silent. His gaze passed through the wall as though fixed on some very distant place, and no one could tell what he was remembering. Only after a long while did Amon come back to himself, and he asked cautiously, "Then... are you a 'mage' too?"
"Yes, I am a mage. But my achievements fall short of my student's—I am only an eighth-rank mage." The old madman answered in a tone of firm certainty, yet he did not turn his face to look at Amon.
Amon had turned to stone. He stared at the old madman for a long time before asking in a small voice, "Your student..." There he stopped, at a loss as to how to go on.
The old madman seemed to be talking to himself. "His name is Bel. If he hadn't become a god, he'd most likely be long dead. The last word I had of him came thirty years ago, brought by Schrödinger. At the time he had run off with Congni, the holy maiden of the Isis Temple, and a great pack of divine artists and warriors were hunting him. He wanted to come to me, but he couldn't shake them off. After that, there was no more news."
Amon felt as though a divine art had been laid on him; he could no longer make a sound. Those few short sentences held far too much that was staggering. First, to say that if that mage had not become a god he might have died long ago was plainly hinting that mortals could become gods. Yet in every divine decree it was impossible for a human to be immortal as the gods were—let alone a mage cursed by the gods!
Second was that news Schrödinger had carried thirty years ago. That meant this cat had lived at least thirty years, and could carry messages between mages. What a wondrous cat he was! Amon thought back to his childhood: that fat, greedy, filthy cat had been in the old madman's house for as long as he could remember. But Schrödinger was so lazy, sleeping away in a corner from morning to night, that practically no one ever noticed him.
The most staggering thing of all was that the mage named Bel had actually made off with the Isis Temple's holy maiden thirty years ago. Amon still did not fully understand what the holy maiden was, but he did understand that a mage could never show himself openly—and that grand mage Bel had stirred up trouble right inside a temple, as though he cared nothing at all for his identity.
Amon said nothing. The old madman drew back his gaze, turned, and looked at him. "You can't believe it, can you? He entered the Memphis Temple and accepted an invitation to become an honorary high priest—all of it to fulfill a wish of mine. But even I never imagined that he would carry off the holy maiden and the Tears of the Gods together. Reckless beyond belief! Madder than this old madman!"
Amon, still petrified, finally caught a whiff of something off. "No, no, how could that be? Aren't mages despised by the gods and hunted by the temples? How did he end up an honorary high priest of the Memphis Temple?"
The old madman laughed—the expression most often on his face, a mocking, cold smile. "Everything I just told you about divine arts and combat arts is what has been said on the Celestial Pivot Continent since ancient times. Being a divine decree, it looks like fact as well, but it may well contain a great many errors and lies. I taught Bel everything, hoping only that he would fulfill one wish of mine: to find out the gods' true secret."
Amon's mind was not working very well at the moment—he could not chew over so many tangled questions at once—so he pressed on. "You still haven't told me how a mage despised by the gods could become a high priest of the Memphis Temple."
The cold smile on the old madman's face grew more pronounced. "The notion that only nobles are fit to study divine arts, and only with a temple's permission—I say that is nothing but a lie the priest-officials and priests tell to monopolize divine arts. Those who study them privately are called mages, and they cannot be tolerated. If you are only a low- or mid-rank mage, that is indeed how it goes: the temples will punish you, even hunt you down. But if you have been lucky enough to become a grand mage, things change—and quite dramatically."
"What play?" Amon grew more and more puzzled. From childhood he had only ever seen plays praising the gods at the town's yearly festivals.
The old madman answered with a question. "Amon, would you lose a whole flock of sheep to hunt down one wild beast? Even when that beast never provoked you—when it is even willing to help you?"
Amon said, "Of course not. I'm not an idiot!"
The old madman gave a cold snort. "The priests in the temples aren't idiots either! Destroying a grand mage costs far too much; to corner one you must swallow bitter losses. Unless there's no other way, who would want to be in such a losing trade? If a grand mage turns up on some temple's territory and simply doesn't reveal his identity or make an enemy of the temple, the priests are only too glad to pretend they don't know. If his identity comes out and they must deal with him, they usually try another way first."
Amon was beginning to follow, but he asked anyway. "What way?"
The old madman turned his head to the wall again; his gaze seemed to pass through the house and look far away, and he told Amon of Bel's past—
When a grand mage appears in one's territory, the cleverest course is to "destroy" him while losing nothing—while even strengthening oneself. That means negotiating. Persuade him, buy him over to join the temple, have him accept the blessing of the gods, grant him a noble title, make him an honorary priest. Every trouble is solved at a stroke, with no bitter losses and no fight to the death.
A grand divine artist is a transcendent being anywhere on the Celestial Pivot Continent. Naturally every temple hopes to have more grand divine artists in residence; it is a symbol of power and standing. Even kings secretly approve of such dealings—who wouldn't want more grand divine artists serving him?
And for a mage to turn divine artist in a single bound means no more worries about his identity, and a share of honor besides. Temples that can recruit grand divine artists command vast wealth and resources; to cultivate divine arts there and enjoy people's reverence is far better than the life of a mage who must hide from the light. Why not?
So such negotiations are usually easy and pleasant, and both sides are delighted. There are exceptions, of course: anyone who can study divine arts privately and reach high-rank achievements is a rare genius of the world, and no few of them are proud and lofty and will not necessarily accept such an invitation. But so long as he does not openly make an enemy of the temple, the temple will privately promise him benefits or send lavish gifts, and all that is asked is that the two sides leave each other in peace.
Only in open hostility, when a grand mage makes an enemy of the kingdom and the temples, must he be destroyed. That becomes an exceptionally savage extermination campaign, and all manner of forces may be called in.
Bel was the student of Nietzsche the old madman. Thirty-six years ago, when he entered the city of Memphis, he was already an eighth-rank grand mage. He was a direct man: he went straight to the Isis Temple, declared his identity, and demonstrated what his magic could do, astonishing the holy maiden of the day and the three high priests in charge. What followed was only natural—Bel became an honorary high priest of the Isis Temple and a revered grand divine artist.
The Memphis Temple proclaimed to the world that Bel had spent years quietly cultivating divine arts, never caring for fame or notice, and that only upon becoming an eighth-rank grand divine artist had he accepted the title of honorary high priest—how devout, how humble, how resolute, a figure to command reverent respect!
At first Bel held only the symbolic identity of an honorary high priest, without real power. But three years later things changed again: while he served as honorary high priest of the Isis Temple, his divine arts advanced to ninth rank, and he became an existence equal to a demigod. Bear in mind that the holy maiden Congni, then the highest authority of the Isis Temple, had divine arts achievements of only eighth rank.
Bel became incomparably honored within the Isis Temple, and also one of the elders of the Eju Empire's Council of Divine Arts. He was entitled to join the discussions of the supreme mysteries of divine arts, to guide nobles and priests in their cultivation of divine arts, and to consult the records and documents of generation upon generation in the archives of the Isis Temple and the Eju Council of Divine Arts—those were precisely the things Bel had entered the Isis Temple to get.
It was Nietzsche the old madman who had taught him everything, hoping only that he would fulfill one wish: to find out how gods became gods. If that secret were known, then perhaps two questions could be answered—can mortals become gods too? And if they can, how does one become a god?
The difficulty of that wish almost exceeded imagination. The old madman had not demanded that Bel succeed, only that he do his utmost. As far as the old madman knew, Bel might already be close to success; even if he had not answered every question, he had at least grasped the key to the riddle—otherwise he could never have made off with the Isis Temple's holy maiden.
It was that abduction of the holy maiden that utterly changed Bel's later fate. Had it not happened, Bel would have gone on enjoying his honored position; he might have become one of the greatest divine artists in the history of the Eju Empire, might perhaps even have fulfilled the old madman's wish outright. But the world cannot be re-imagined as it might have been. Thirty years ago Bel left the Isis Temple, taking with him not only the holy maiden Congni but the Tears of the Gods that was in her keeping.
Here the old madman suddenly added, with deep feeling, something off the point: "Those in the know say privately that Bel abducted the holy maiden, but I say that nine times out of ten that holy maiden went willingly.
She had the Tears of the Gods; even if she was no match for Bel, if she had resolved to fight to the death, she could not have been carried off. ...
And now, thirty years later, right here, you dug the Tears of the Gods out with your own hands, and that Aikou-Maria will become the Isis Temple's new guardian holy maiden. They have a holy maiden again at last!"
Amon was startled once more, and blurted out the question he cared about most. "Aikou-Maria! She's going to be the holy maiden! What exactly is a holy maiden?"
The old madman poured himself another brimming cup, but did not hurry to drink it; he swirled it in his hand and answered, "Don't be in such a hurry to interrupt. I was just coming to that..."
The chief god worshiped by the Eju Empire is Horus the King God, and the pharaoh of Eju claims to be Horus's spokesman in the mortal world. The Eju capital is Bis City in Upper Eju; the Temple of Horus in Bis City is the chief temple of all Eju, the highest center of divine authority in the land, and temples everywhere take their orders from it. The chief priest-official of the chief Temple of Horus is of course the pharaoh of Eju himself.
But the pharaoh himself ordinarily stays in the palace attending to state affairs, and only at the great sacrificial ceremonies does he ascend the temple altar in the role of chief priest-official. So the temple keeps a chief priest, who on ordinary days represents the pharaoh in offering sacrifice to Horus the King God and the other gods. Besides the chief priest, the chief Temple of Horus has three high priests who manage daily affairs, and their standing is far above that of the high priests of ordinary local temples.
The chief Temple of Horus also houses a body of senior priests, the most honored group in the empire; the Council of Divine Arts and the Academy of Divine Arts, which represent the empire's highest divine-arts authority, are established there as well.
Upper Eju lies in the rich, fertile river valley on the upper reaches of the Roni River; the Eju Empire holds another important domain besides, Lower Eju, in the delta on the Roni's lower reaches. In ages past Eju was split into two kingdoms; the capital of Lower Eju was Memphis, and later the pharaoh completed the unification.
The chief temple of Memphis is the Isis Temple, and it is also the most important temple in all of Lower Eju. Its nominal chief priest-official is still the pharaoh of Eju, a symbol of his rule over Lower Eju, but the one who represents the pharaoh in offering sacrifice to the gods is the holy maiden.
The chief deity worshiped at the Isis Temple is naturally the goddess Isis: mother of Horus in the old myths, the goddess of fertility worshiped by the people of Eju, and the guardian deity of Memphis since ancient times. Yet those who receive sacrifice in the Isis Temple are not the goddess Isis alone but the many gods of Eju; at the center of the main hall stands the image of the goddess Isis with the infant Horus in her arms.
Isis is revered in Eju as the holy mother, and there is a tradition from ancient times: the one who in the mortal world represents the people in offering sacrifice to the goddess is called the holy maiden, in full "the Guardian Holy Maiden of the goddess Isis." The Tears of the Gods on her staff is the emblem of that identity, standing for the goddess Isis's chastity and loving-kindness, and for the gaze of compassion and blessing she turns upon the people of the world.
The holy maiden is pure and devout, giving all of herself to the goddess Isis. Therefore no grown man may touch her; one may only kiss the earth at her feet to show reverence.
According to the records, thirty years ago the Isis Temple's holy maiden Congni, relying on power bestowed by the goddess, destroyed an evil ninth-rank grand mage, and herself fell as well; the Tears of the Gods on her staff was wrecked in that bitter battle. This is the official Eju account, and its authority admits no question.
That evil grand mage was of course Bel, and in Eju history the affair is called "the Mage's Disaster." But as far as the old madman knew, the truth was this: Bel, honorary high priest of the Isis Temple and ninth-rank grand divine artist, had made off with the holy maiden Congni and carried away the Tears of the Gods as well. That could not be tolerated at all; it had violated and shaken the divine authority by which the empire was ruled.
The pharaoh issued a secret order that he must be destroyed. Wherever Bel passed, the forces of the temples throughout Lower Eju joined the hunt. Bel fled this way and that, and in the end could find no foothold anywhere in the Eju Empire; he crossed the desert, escaped the border, and came to the deep mountains where the territories of Assyria, Barron and Hatti meet Eju.
The pharaoh of Eju sent a great host of divine artists and warriors across the border in pursuit; not one of them ever came back, and from then on there was no more word of Bel and the holy maiden Congni.
After that, every record of Bel as honorary high priest of the Isis Temple and elder of the Eju Council of Divine Arts was destroyed, and no one was permitted ever to mention them again. In the official record he is simply an evil grand mage, destroyed by the holy maiden Congni at the cost of her own life.
Here the old madman fell silent again. For a long while there was no sound at all in the room; the old man and the boy each sat turning over his own thoughts.
Amon understood at last who the holy maiden was, and what Aikou-Maria would become, and could not help feeling bleak. He knew that nothing more could ever happen between him and Aikou-Maria, yet a regret beyond describing lingered in his heart, and he could not keep from thinking of her in silence, and let out a long, deep sigh. To hear that sigh alone, no one would take him for a boy of fourteen.
In the end it was Amon who spoke first and broke the silence. "You said your student—the grand mage Bel—was close to succeeding in cracking the gods' secret. Is there any solid proof?"
The old madman answered, his mind obviously elsewhere. "It was the last message he sent, thirty years ago. It confirmed many of the guesses I had held for years, but I don't know exactly how many riddles he had solved. As for what I told you about divine arts and combat arts just now—much of what people think they know may be wrong! ... Divine arts and combat arts were deliberately split apart, and the crucial content is missing. That should be the gods' secret!"