Witch king, p.25
Witch King, page 25
But it sat higher in the water, in much better condition than the moldering barge and the other rotting boats that had been here since the escape. Then Kai’s imps, drawn by Ramad’s urgency, swarmed it and in their light the hull gleamed gold.
Kai reached it in one breathless heartbeat. He couldn’t believe they had almost missed it, but in the gloom, the Blessed metal hull had faded into the darkness. The bright colors had been allowed to dim and mottle, but the sun signs etched along the sides were still visible. He didn’t need to hear Ramad whisper, “This is an Immortal Blessed craft.”
It was a practical boat, meant for canal journeys. Near the stern were storage compartments, built-in benches, and a rolled-up shade canopy stowed under the side rail. Ziede arrived so silently Kai almost jumped when she said, “There’s no column for the Well of Thosaren.”
Kai spotted the low plinth near the bow. “No, there was, but it’s been removed.”
Ramad looked worried. “Another stolen Immortal Blessed boat is surely an indication of … something.”
“And it hasn’t been here long,” Ziede added. Kai agreed. The boat was clean, well cared for, there was no layer of grime or windblown dirt on the benches and cushions. The green water had only had time to leave a faint line of moss along the hull.
Sanja rotated like a spinning toy, trying to see every part of the dim cavern at once. “If they followed us, and got here first, why haven’t they jumped out at us yet?”
“Because they didn’t follow us, they came here for something else.” Kai turned to Tenes, who was keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. He caught her attention and signed, Keep watch here?
Tenes signaled assent. Kai said, “Sanja, stay here with Tenes.”
Uneasy, Sanja hugged herself and nodded. “You’re going to find these people?”
“Only if we can’t avoid it,” Kai said. “We’re going to find what we came for and get out.”
* * *
Kai, Ziede, and Ramad took a quick walk through the stables attached to the docks, just to make sure there were no more surprises. Ziede’s wind-devils found no sense of mortal life in the dark echoing halls. Even the long-rotted bins of fodder left behind had drawn no rats or lizards or other scavengers, and no one had ever come for the tools and equipment.
Back out in the plaza, Ramad said, “Is it possible to climb to the top without taking the stairs? They might be watching that route.”
Kai could have warned him but decided not to.
Ziede said, “We’re not climbing.” Ramad startled when she grabbed his arm but didn’t pull away. Kai was used to that moment when the wind-devil closed around him and his feet left the ground, but Ramad drew in a sharp startled breath. Kai felt Ziede wait for a heartbeat, to see if Ramad would panic and fight. He didn’t, and the devils lifted them upward.
Kai stopped worrying about Ramad as they cleared the high stable arches and moved up the slope toward the crest of the earthwork. He braced for what he was going to see. Ziede kept them so low the taller treetops brushed his shins. In moments they were at the top.
The paved rim that circled the earthwork had discolored from white to dingy gray, but wasn’t as eaten away by grass as the plaza below. Part of Kai had expected the water to be clear, the courts and glass-roofed halls as visible as if it had all happened yesterday. But the water was a dark sour color, thick with rafts of rotting dead leaves.
Only rooftops, or the tops of the tallest towers or courts, were visible above the surface. The stone was pitted and worn, streaked with something like rust. The glass so mottled and discolored that it was as impenetrable as the water.
Kai realized his heart was pounding, though it was with relief instead of anything else. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but these signs of age and neglect and mortal rot were … reassuring. “You’d think there would be float-moss,” he said. They were always having to clean it out of the still pools at Avagantrum. “That the whole place would be green.”
“That only grows in healthy water.” Ziede’s suspicious gaze was on the Immortal Blessed supplication tower, nearly halfway across the width of the Halls. It was tall and narrow, meant only to give access to the landing balconies, and only a few levels still stood above the water. “They—whoever they are—must have carried a small boat up here.”
If they were diving for relics, a structure with a mostly intact upper portion would make a good platform to work from. Kai spotted a much larger glass roof to the left, so huge only its peak was visible, the rest buried under leaves and some weedy growth. That must be the Temple Halls, and if it was, then he recognized that colonnade some distance past it. The whole top floor was above the surface. “Over there, that tall court. That was where we found the second Hierarch.”
Ziede’s frown deepened. “Hmm.”
There had to be riches under the water, jewels and metals, but more importantly, intentions, devices, and other workings of the Hierarchs that might still be usable for expositors. Kai spoke silently to Ziede, How many people still alive know how to find that court?
At least one too many, apparently, Ziede replied. If it’s not just a coincidence.
Kai doubted that anything that had happened so far was a coincidence.
Ramad studied the scene avidly. As an Arike growing up close to the Rising World court, he would have heard stories of this place all his life. “They came in an Immortal Blessed craft. They can’t be ordinary thieves.” Before Kai or Ziede could reply, he added, “No, I’m not being naive. I mean they must be either a Blessed, or an expositor like Aclines, someone who was given or stole a consecrated boat. And that seems coincidental for there to be two different groups of conspirators.”
It was interesting that Ramad was thinking along the same lines as Kai and Ziede. Or at least, interesting that he was willing to admit it. Kai said, “Aclines’ friends should be expecting us at Stios.” Unless they hadn’t fooled their pursuit at all, and someone had guessed their destination. Unless Ramad was their agent and had some means of communicating with them. The thought was sour; Kai was so tired of being suspicious.
Seemingly oblivious to any undercurrents, Ramad nodded. “Unless there’s something here they want. Besides you.”
Ziede said grimly, “Let’s get a look at them.” She took hold of Kai’s arm and the shoulder of Ramad’s coat and stepped into the air again.
The wind-devil caught the breeze and floated out over the dark water, where it spun like a leaf. Unnerved, Ramad grabbed Ziede’s hand where it rested on his shoulder. Kai thought the devil might be reacting to the power well now sitting like a bloated carrion toad over the ruin of the Summer Halls.
As they reached the top of the Hierarchs’ court, Kai tapped Ziede’s hand. She let go and he dropped onto the roof of the colonnade. He landed in a crouch, his feet slipping a little on the grimy slate. Then he slid forward to the edge of the roof and hung head down.
There was nothing on the colonnade but rotting leaves. The windows in the back wall opened into what had once been a grand, high-ceilinged space. He didn’t need to call imps: toward the far right corner was the cool white glow of an Immortal Blessed lamp. It was at the wrong angle for Kai to see much. He had the sense of a shadowy human shape, and some lumps that might be packs.
I found the boat, tucked up under a window on the far side from you, Ziede told him through her pearl. Small, not room for more than three people at one time.
Someone’s here, Kai replied. I’m going to get closer. He rolled forward and hung from the edge to drop silently onto the crusty stone floor of the colonnade.
All those years ago, when Kai had come to this court in search of a Hierarch, he hadn’t seen this floor; the audience hall should be at least one or two levels below. It was too dark in the further corners of the room to see any doors or stair landings. He slipped silently across the colonnade and climbed in through the window.
The floor was just as crusty but also slimy and slippery. Kai stepped carefully, moving silently toward the lamp and the outline of a human shape sitting cross-legged near it. Water dripped constantly and he could hear breathing, the rustle of paper. Closer, and he made out the tarp spread on the grimy floor. There was a roll of bedding, some bags, and a wooden water container. A scatter of papers, book rolls, a stone ink bottle, and a few carved pens. Not just a camp, but a scholar’s camp. Maybe this wasn’t thieves or conspirators, but some historian like Ramad, with more curiosity than sense.
The preoccupied shape beside the lamp was a small person, hair tied back in a short queue, head bent over a stack of papers. Probably male, since he wore the tunic and skirt of traditional Arike dress, in dull cotton for work or travel. The skirt was tied up to reveal a pair of rolled-up muddy leggings, not unlike what Kai was wearing.
Kai was ten steps away. This was a dream. Or he had walked into a lingering web of intentions and was now trapped in a chimera. The familiar line of the jaw, the angle of the head …
Then the person glanced up. He yelped, scattered his papers and scrambled back. The Blessed lamp flared brighter, taking away any doubt. Kai said, “Dahin?”
THE PAST: THE BECOMING
… says the lands of the Far South were captured much the way the Arik was, through assassination and manipulation. There the Hierarchs raised a generation of soldiers who believed it was their destiny to conquer and destroy the rest of the world, that they would one day receive lands in the east and west and north for their own. Whether that promise would have been kept or not, no one knows.
… how many of the southern legions had doubts. Accounts say the Hierarchs were vicious in rooting out dissension in the ranks. Many surviving legionaries escaped when they had the chance, to the independent cities that rose out of the shattered lands along the northeastern coasts; others tried to return to the South. Many settled with the other refugees and live throughout the north and east, farming or fishing or trading, as they were once promised by their masters.
—The East Falls, Weranan, historian of Seidel-arik
Kai and Ziede ran down the processional corridor back toward the Cageling Demon Court. Kai found moving easier if he just tried not to think about what his body was doing; his legs still felt too long and being almost as tall as Ziede made him dizzy.
When they reached the walkway, the court was shrouded in perpetual rain again. Kai didn’t step to the railing to look inside. If there were any living demons in there, they had voluntarily returned, and he didn’t want to see it. They made their way over the stiffening mortal bodies on the walkway and back to the door to the intention chamber.
As they climbed the stairs to the upper level, the air was increasingly close and humid. The basin was filled with water again, with no sign of Ziede’s struggle to block it except for puddles on the floor and damp splashes high on the stone walls. Kai wasn’t sure that Ziede’s idea would help, but as she had pointed out, it was worth a brief stop on the way to certain death to find out.
He circled the basin, running his hand along the edge and below. They had searched unsuccessfully for the controlling design here before, but Ziede’s theory was that now that Kai had Talamines’ memories, he might be able to identify the intention that made the rain. “You think using it will confuse the Hierarch,” Kai had said, back in the Temple Halls. “They’ll think ‘what are these idiots trying to do’ and while they’re distracted—”
“No.” Ziede had tapped her nails on her belt. “I think water disappears into the air, so this intention must create water, or rather draw it from somewhere, to keep the Cageling Court saturated.”
“Or they just carry buckets up to refill the basin,” Kai had pointed out.
Ziede’s expression had not indicated appreciation of that insight. She said, “Humor me, Kai.”
Salatel and her soldiers had wanted to follow them but Kai had sent them ahead to inform Bashasa of their plan, such as it was. Kai was surprised Salatel had listened to him. Turning to run his hands over the rougher stone of the wall behind the basin, he said as much to Ziede.
She said, “Bashasa told them they were your personal guard now. To follow your orders.”
Kai was so taken aback by that, he turned to stare at her. Her expression was enigmatic and he asked, “When did this happen?”
“When you were unconscious, after we realized you’d taken that body,” Ziede explained. She poked him in the shoulder and he turned back to the wall to keep searching. She continued, “He didn’t want anyone to kill you thinking you were an expositor. He also didn’t want to hamper you if you woke up and decided to do something else miraculous, so making them your personal guard, subject to your orders, solved both problems.” She frowned a little. “I didn’t trust him at first, not at all. I’m still not sure how far I can trust him, and given our current circumstances I doubt we’ll live long enough to find out. But he is a more sensible person than I took him for.”
Kai didn’t understand. Bashasa had saved him from the Cageling Court, but the only reason Kai had been chosen was for his small size, so Bashasa’s sister’s body could take his place. It wasn’t as if Bashasa should feel responsible for him. “He was drunk when we left the Hostage Courts.”
“I know, but he got over it quickly.”
“Yes, but…” Kai stopped, staring at the wall, and forgot what he meant to say. He had seen something, like a character in an unfamiliar alphabet, etched onto one of the blocks. He couldn’t see it now, but he was sure it was in the middle of the wall, just opposite the center of the basin. He knew he had looked there the first time they searched, but he had a different body’s vision now. An expositor’s vision.
He tried holding a hand over one eye, and caught a flash of pale light. He turned slowly away from the wall. There it was, at the very edge of his sight. The block had writing on it, a circular character from a language Talamines recognized but Kai didn’t know how to read.
“What do you see?” Ziede asked softly.
“A word, or a sign.” He looked around, then stepped to one of the damp patches on the wall and with a finger sketched the character. “You can’t see it on the block?”
“No, to my eyes nothing’s there.” Ziede stepped close. “I don’t know what this is. Did Talamines?”
“He’d seen it before, but he can’t read it.” If Kai turned his head the right way, he could keep the word in sight. The substance used to draw it was pale, the lines a little smeared. It was a liquid that wasn’t ink. At least not the kind of ink the Saredi or borderlanders made, or like the ink Bashasa had used to draw his maps. Like liquid light, he thought. Is this what an intention looked like? Or not an intention, but a marker for an intention. A written design?
Ziede was intrigued. “I’ve heard that there’s a language from the Hierarchs’ homeland that no one can read.”
“I thought Imperial was the Hierarchs’ language.” Kai prodded the mortar around the marked block, wondering if they could remove it.
“No, Imperial comes from Sun-Ar, which is supposedly the first land the Hierarchs conquered after they left their own.” Ziede poked at the mortar too. “Well, we can’t get it out. Even if we could find a chisel or a pick we don’t have time—”
An impulse made Kai put his hand on the word. He felt something cold attach to the skin of his palm. He drew his hand away from the block and the pale substance came with it, holding the shape of the intention, though it didn’t look at all the same. Looking at it from this angle was like the difference between a drawing of an object and the object itself.
“Now I can see it,” Ziede whispered.
That same impulse made Kai carefully cup his hand to hold the intention, and bring it toward his chest.
“Kai, don’t—” Ziede began urgently.
Kai’s hand seemed to snap the last few inches and flatten to the front of his silk tunic. He felt the intention sink through his skin and sit atop his breastbone, a cold weight like mud from the bottom of a mountain river.
He looked at Ziede. Her expression was incredulous, bordering on horrified. Kai wasn’t thrilled with what had just happened either, but they needed a way to move the intention. She said, “Will that come out?”
“Probably? Maybe?” Kai bit his lip. “I don’t want to try until we get to where we want to put it.”
“Kai.” Ziede reached up to rub her face, apparently remembered her already ruined makeup, and planted her hands on her hips instead. “Could you manage not to find any more unique ways to destroy yourself until after we find this Hierarch? I don’t really care to die alone.”
“Well, I’ll try.” It wasn’t like Kai could make any promises right now.
* * *
They followed Salatel’s map away from the court, switching from one wide corridor to another, then climbing a ramp upward to a new level. The decoration was richer up here, the walls set with marble panels that looked like ocean waves of black overtaking an icy shore. They heard shouting in the distance and saw a few mortals in the corridors, but no one tried to stop them. All were fleeing, and while most ignored them, a few stopped to ask Ziede for help. Others called to them, urging them to run, too. Kai was still wearing Bashasa’s blue brocade coat and kept his face averted so he could pass as a mortal. He still had Talamines’ veil but hesitated to put it on; he thought it would make him look like an expositor. Ziede just directed the mortals away from the area where they knew Bashasa was fighting with the legionaries and told them to keep going.
They came to a place where the walls and ceiling of the corridor dropped away and it turned into a bridge across a narrow man-made canyon of stone. Above them smooth white walls stretched up to an opening that allowed a brief glimpse of cloudy sky and daylight. A few levels below, mortals ran along the paving, all heading the same direction.
“This must be one of the ways out,” Ziede said as they crossed quickly over the bridge.
