Diane Duane - The Book of Night with Moon

—and They did—

—but to require the Powers to descend, to demand Their presence: it was not something that was possible, They would laugh at you—

No, Rhiow thought. That was someone else’s idea, some- thing else’s idea. Yours! she said to the Old Serpent. Yours! As it was your idea what happened to my Hhuha. As it was your idea what happened to Arhu’s littermates and almost happened to him. No more of your ideas! You have had only one, and I’ve had enough of it for today.

Reconfiguration, Rhiow thought. To change the Lone One’s perception… it would take this kind of power. And others’ perceptions could as easily be changed.

Rhiow staggered to her feet again, opened her mouth, looking for the right words … Let it come, she said, let it come to me: I will command!

Instantly the huge power blasted into her, as the activated spell had blasted out, leaving room for her to work. She tottered with the influx of wild power, staggered like someone gone distempered, unable to see or hear or speak, unable to feel anything but the fire raging inside her, striving to get out, get up, do something. It did not know what it wanted to do, though. This is always the problem, said the Voice inside her. It must be disciplined, or it will ruin everything. Hold it still, keep it until the right words come.

But with that power in her, she knew the right words.

“what has become of MY children?” Rhiow cried. She knew the voice that shouted; it was her own—but Someone else’s too: the sun burned inside her, and fire from beyond the sun readied itself to leap out. She could not believe the rage within her, the fury, but there was a core of massive calm to it, the knowledge that all could yet be well, and the two balanced one another as the sides of the spell had not. “ Where is Aaurh the warrior, and sa’Rrahh the Tearer, wayward but dear to Me? And what has become of My Consort and the light of his eye, without which My own is dark?”

The ground shook: the Tree shook: the Mountain trembled under her. “ Old Serpent, turn You and face Us, for the fight is not done—!”

She could not believe her own strength. It filled her, making the initial release of the spell from her seem about as worldshattering by comparison as a stomach-growl. And she could not believe that the Old Serpent, the Lone One Itself, now looked at her from the Tree with eyes suddenly full of fear. Rage, yes, and frustration … but fear first. Is that all it takes? she thought, astonished. One sentence—one word, one command? “Let there be light—”

Here and now … the answer seemed to be “yes.”

It was “yes” before too, said Queen Iau. But the voice was Rhiow’s own.

The Serpent began, very slowly, to uncoil Itself from around the Tree. As it did, the huge gouge that It had bitten in the Tree’s trunk began to bleed light afresh.

Oh no You don’t, Rhiow thought furiously, stepping forward. Where do you think You’re going?

She was immediately distracted by the way the ground shook under her when she moved. Rhiow would have been frightened by it except that inside her, acting with her—part of her, as if from a long time before—was One Who was not afraid of Her own power in the slightest.

Rhiow was abashed beyond belief. Not in her wildest expectations had she anticipated the spell might have this kind of result: she would hardly have dated to think of herself and the One in the same sentence. Oh, my Queen, I’m sorry—I mean, I—

Don’t apologize, came the thought of Iau Hauhai’h, and it was humorous, if momentarily grim. Usually gods don’t. Not in front of that One, anyway. Say what It needs to hear! We’ve got a lot of work to do.

Rhiow stood there, feeling the majesty cohabiting with her… and then held her head up, thinking of that statue in the Met, poor cold copy that it was. “ Am I not the One,” She cried, “to make power against death strong, and power for life stronger still? Shall I allow the darkness to prevail against My own? Their life is in Me, and of Me: save that You destroy Me as well, never shall they be wholly gone; and Me You cannot destroy, nor My power in Them. Rise up then, Aaurh My daughter, and be healed of Your dying; the dark dream is over, and awakening is comer.

Off to one side, where a shape lay dark and charred on the stone, there was movement—and then a flash of fire. If a form can burn backward, this one did. Flame leapt from nowhere to it, filled it, wrapped it round—not the cold white fire of the catenary, but flame with a hint of gold, the sun’s light concentrated, made personal and intense. Substance came with the fire: the shape filled out, rolled to its feet, shook itself, and stood, looking proud, and angry, and amused. It was a lioness, but one in whose pelt every hair was a line of golden fire, and the Sun rode above her like a crown—though it was not as bright as her eyes, or as fierce. “I am here, my Dam and Queen,” said the voice of Aaurh the Warrior, the Queen’s Champion, the Mighty, the Destroyer-by-Fire; but it was Saash’s voice as well, and Rhiow could have laughed out loud for joy at the sound of that voice, itself nearly shaking with laughter under the stern words.

Oh Iau, Saash— I mean, oh— And Rhiow did laugh then: it was amazing how your vocabulary could be lessened by realizing you suddenly had the One inside you, and that it sounded surpassingly silly to be swearing at, or by, Yourself. Saash, are you all right?

A snicker. Are you kidding? I’m dead. Or I was. But live by the fire, die by the fire. And she chuckled. It’s an occupational hazard.

“Rise up then, sa’Rrahh My daughter, and be healed of Your sore wounding; stand with Us against the Old Serpent that would have worked Your bane!”

The prone form that lay clutching painfully with its fore-claws at the stone now lifted its head and slowly began to glow both dark and bright, like its fur—night-and-moon-light, the pale fire and the dark one mingling, starfire and the darkness behind the stars: the essence of conflict and ambivalence. But neither fire burned less intensely for the other’s presence; and as the tigerish shape rose up to stand with its Dam, the eyes that looked out of its mighty head were terrible with knowledge of past and future, decisions well made and ill made, and action and passivity held in dangerous balance. Those awful, thoughtful eyes looked down at the body they inhabited … and suddenly went wide.

“Look at me! Just look at me! I’m a queen!”

Iau Kindler of Stars let out a long sigh. “ Son,” She said, “ shut up. It happens to the best of us.”

Rhiow put her radiant whiskers right forward in amusement It had not occurred to Rhiow that Arhu might manifest as sa’Rrahh, but the Tearer had always been as ambivalent about gender as anything else. “ Oh all right,” said the Dark One. “ I am here, my Dam and Queen. Now let me at that ragged-eared— ”

“In a moment. Rise up then, My consort, Urrua Lightning-Claw; be risen up, thou Old Tom, O Great Cat, O Cat Who stood under the Tree on the night the enemies of Life were destroyed. Urrua, My beloved, My Consort, rise up now, and stand with Us, to slay the One Who slew You!”

Off on the black stone, where blood lay pooled around a tom, silver-striped shape, darkness now pooled as well. It gathered together about that shape and began to weave brilliance into itself, the tabby coloration shading pale, to moondust grays and silvers and a brilliant white like the Moon at full, a light as pitiless in its way as the Moon looking down from a clear sky on those who would wish to hide, and can find no hiding place from what stalks them silently. That shape stood up, and was a panther’s shape, heavy-jowled and white-fanged, with unsheathed claws that burned and left molten spots on any stone they touched. The mighty shape shook itself, shedding silver light about it, then padded over to join the others, looking at them with one eye that was dark and terrible, knowing secrets; and the other that burned almost too bright to look upon, for battle was in it, and the joy of battle. “I am here, My Dam and Queen, My Consort,” he said, and then added, “ ‘My consort,’ huh?”