Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

“I spoke of the Giants of Winter and Old Night.”

“I said evil,” Baki continued, “but I should have made it clear that much was merely badness, imperfection. It was all one thing at first, a giant named Ymir, alone, violent, and miserable. Some servants of the Highest God surrendered their places in Kleos and went down to kill him. They did, but they could never go back.”

For half a minute, perhaps, all of us were silent. The voices of muleteers floated up from below, with noises made by horses and mules. The flickering light of the muleteers’ lanterns shone up through the hatch and the cracks in the floorboards.

I got up and went to the hatch. “You’re worried about the uproar,” I called down. “You don’t have to be. They’re over their fright, and it won’t happen again.”

“I don’t understand,” Toug said when I sat down. “What does killing a giant have to do with making her well?”

“Baki?”

“The servants of the High God have His ear in Kleos.”

Seeing he was expected to speak, Toug said, “All right.”

“Those who left no longer had it. They had to ask their brothers to intercede. They multiplied, and their children knew no other place. Their brothers became their gods.”

Mani touched my arm with a tentative paw. “What about the giants up there. Sir Able? Where did they come from?”

“From the body of Ymir. When Ymir died, pieces of him still lived. Ymir was vast beyond our imagining.”

“The Highest God made another world below Skai,” Baki told Toug. “It is where we sit talking now. Mythgarthr, the Clearing Where Tales Are Told.”

I said, “The Overcyns, by which we mean our own gods in Skai, needed a place to throw what remained of Ymir, you see. That was the plea they made their brothers, and they promised they’d cleanse their own world of evil as far as they could, casting it into Mythgarthr, with the rotting flesh of Ymir, his blood, and his bones. We call his bones rock, his flesh earth, and his blood the sea.”

“That’s horrible!”

I shook my head. “The living giant was horrible, as those parts that lived on are horrible still. A dead man is horrible. Have you ever seen one? Not a man newly dead, but one who has begun to decay?”

Slowly, Toug nodded.

“But a dead man returns as trees, grass, and flowers. So with Ymir. It’s useless to condemn the evil he was. That is gone. The good he has become remains. If we won’t bless it with our lips, we must bless it in our hearts every time we see a sunrise or a flowering meadow.”

“You said the Lady lived in a meadow,” Toug reminded me. “A meadow where flowers bloom all the time.”

“So I did. We call those flowers stars.”

Baki said, “You know how our race came to be, but I do not know how yours did. If you want Toug to learn it, you must tell him.”

“I know,” Mani declared. “The giants—not those you talked about, but giants like the one who built this barn—were oppressing the cats. Men were made to help the cats.”

I smiled. “And where did those lesser giants come from, wise cat?”

“From Skai.”

“Correct.”

Mani looked pleased with himself. “I knew that had to be right, because it’s the only place they could have come from, and there were giants there already.”

“A long time after the death of Ymir one of the Overcyns coupled with a giantess.” I spoke so softly that Toug had to lean forward to hear. “I don’t know how long that time was, thousands of years for them, and I think it likely that it was more than thousands. The Overcyn was Lothur. Some say he’s a son of the Valfather’s.”

Mani said, “His father must have been some Overcyn.”

I nodded. “Unless he was one of the group that left Kleos, which some allege.”

Baki said, “Will you tell us the name of the giantess?”

“You know it already. Angr’s kids, the Angrborn, were not strong enough to resist the Overcyns, but the Overcyns didn’t want to kill them, because they were their relatives. To rid Skai of them, they sent them here.”

Toug said, “What about us? How did we get here?”

“The Most High God raised us from the animals. Does that sound horrible?”

Mani said, “Well, I certainly don’t think so.”

“Neither do I,” I told him. “You’re innocent, always, and often brave and loyal. No one who has known Gylf as I have could be ashamed of being related to him, though there have been many times when he must have been shamed by us.”

Toug exclaimed, “But he’s a magic dog!” At which Mani shook his head.

“We will talk about Gylf later,” I told Toug. “In fact, I hope Gylf will talk for himself.”

Gylf looked at me like I had sold him out.

“We’re talking about Baki now, and how you healed her. Or if we aren’t, we should be. How did Aelfrice come to be, Baki? You must know.”

Toug said, “You said we were raised from the beasts. Like they grew up and became us. But you didn’t say why.”

“Because the Most High God willed it. Do you think He discussed the matter with me? He discusses His decisions with no one.”

“He must have had some reason.”

“No doubt, but we can only guess. Mine is like Mani’s—we’re to preserve Mythgarthr from the Angrborn. They’re cruel for cruelty’s sake, and destroy for the sheer love of destruction. The animals He put here don’t do such things, and He may have hoped that if He gave us reason and the power of speech we’d serve as a check on the Angrborn. As we do.”

“But we do those things sometimes, too.” Toug looked at Baki for confirmation, and she nodded.

“We do. We build houses and barns as well. How do you think the Angrborn learned to do those things?”

“By copying us?”

“You got it. Way too often, we turn around and copy them.” I turned to Baki. “You talk.”

She cleared her throat. “First I would like to thank Toug again for healing me.”

Toug muttered, “You don’t have to.”

“I want to. I also want to thank Sir Able for bringing you and teaching you to do it. You would not have if he had not urged you. I know that.

“As for the creation of Aelfrice, it is obvious, surely. It is a dump for the refuse of Mythgarthr.” Baki sighed. “If you spit upon me, I will be honored by your attention.”

I said, “You still resent us, though you reject Setr?”

“I suppose I do. While we remained elemental spirits, Toug, we could do little harm. Do you think spirits, ghosts, and all such all-powerful?”

“I guess I did.”

“You were wrong. But once Kulili had given us bodies we did all sorts of harm—there, and here. She remonstrated with us, and we turned on her and drove her under the waves. We wanted to be free, and to us that means free to do what we want, judged by no one and nothing.”

“I wouldn’t judge you,” Toug said miserably.

“You must! You are our gods! Try to understand.”

Toug could only gape at her.

When several seconds had passed, Mani said kindly, “The gods of each world are the people of the next one up. That’s Skai for us, and us for Aelfrice.” I added, “Aelfrice for Muspei, the sixth world.”

Baki signed again. “You know all about it.” There was resignation in her voice.

“Not all. No one knows all there is to know about a thing except the Most High God. The Valfather once told me that if anyone ever learns all there is to be learned about anything, it’ll be found that he or she is the Most High God and always has been. You renounced Setr and accepted Toug. What harm can my knowledge do after that?”

“I am ashamed for my people. For the Fire Aelf.”

“Their shame’s no worse because I know. Do you want to repay Toug for healing you? Tell him.”