Chapter 9
"I can't believe it's been three months since we found you, Sylenn!" Mosin enthused as he walked arm-in-arm with his sister out of the Temple. "And now it's time to introduce you to the rest of the world. Wow; you grew up fast, kid!" He winked and jostled her playfully.
"Yes, and I can even walk on my own, you know," Sylenn grumbled back. Mosin stared for a second, then let go of her arm.
"Sorry; I was just--"
"Sylenn," Satherlin called from up ahead. "Would you join me, please?"
Sylenn left her brother and jogged slightly to catch up with Satherlin, who led the entire group of Descendants through the town to the guest building that held the lifts to the garages. The Islanders politely stepped aside and made quiet greetings, which many of the Descendants returned. Satherlin stood on a tiny, three-wheeled platform that hummed with electrical power, enabling his to move faster than he could walk. The pace he'd set was brisk for those with healthy legs, leaving Sylenn to wonder how fast the little cart could truly go.
"Thank you, my dear. I know you've been out around the Island several times already, but you haven't been back to the rest of the world yet. I wanted to make sure you knew how we travel from place to place."
"I had wondered," Sylenn offered wryly. "You did manage to get me from downtown Casserion to an island on the other side of the world in less than an hour."
Satherlin chuckled. "That's the Ancients for you. They left a network of transportation platforms all over the planet; there's one no less than every thousand leagues in any direction on the continents and at least one in every group of islands. Just like the Temple, they're hidden by science so that no-one can accidentally wander into them. In fact, that's where most legends of forbidden places come from; people couldn't get to them, so they invented reasons for it. They're all over the world, and they all connect here, in the garage under the Temple. If you're interested, later you can go examine all the machinery. Perhaps the Hunter will be able to give us some insight on how that all works."
Sylenn shook her head. "I don't think so; It doesn't seem to understand the Ancients any better than It understands us."
"But it knew how to work the containment devices," Lyshunda commented from her place on Satherlin's other side.
"That's because It had to use them," Sylenn replied, darting a glance from under her hair, which was loosely pulled back to the nape of her neck. "Beyond that, It doesn't care about the machines at all."
"I see," Satherlin grunted. "Oh well, can't have everything. So, here's the lift. Let's all go down, then, shall we?"
When they reached the garage, Satherlin lead them across the vast space, retracing the route Len had taken Sylenn three months before. Now that she was facing that direction, Sylenn could see something ... a design of some sort on the far wall. As they rounded the last line of parked electrical wagons, she saw the floor in front of the wall also had a design on it; there was more of the swirled etching she'd come to know from the devices. Staring at the patterns made her eyes swim and tear up, so she blinked and looked away.
"This is the main transport platform," Satherlin announced. "Niel, since you're our resident expert on them, I'll let you give Sylenn the explanations."
Niel grinned and strode forward. "My thanks, sir! Sylenn, it's really not difficult to use these. Well, provided you're a Descendant. Others have to do a bit to get through, but for us, it's as simple as walking forward. Now, to choose your destination, you have to call up the map. Allow me to demonstrate."
Niel stepped onto the design and walked to the center of it, facing the etched wall. "You'll need to be suited to do this," he added, becoming Heleathon Thayen, whose body was a solid yellow and boasted dark red hair cropped on the top and flowing down his neck to his shoulder blades, "and you'll face the wall. Just think about the map, and it appears."
The etched wall suddenly glowed with thousands of small dots. "It's easier to understand if you're suited," he said over his shoulder. Guiltily, Sylenn complied; she'd been distracted once again by his hairstyle, which had led her to think about Kylle's own massive sideburns when he was Naichen. The variations on each Descendant could be ... strange. Suddenly, her eyes could see that the etchings glowed underneath the dots, and she could discern that it was a complex, impossibly detailed map of the entirety of Alluvia. It was topographical, showing land-masses, rivers, mountains, oceans without water, and no country borders or cities.
"One of the incredible things about this map is its ability to constantly update as the world changes," Heleathon enthused. "We know that Alluvia has changed because our predecessors made other maps based on this one, and they're different from this now. At first, we thought that there was some mistake, that either the cartographers had erred or there was a problem with this map. But we went out and looked, and true enough, Alluvia was changing. Very slowly, but changing.
"Um, back to the task at hand. Next, select what place you want to go to. This green dot is the Temple; it will always be green, no matter where you are in the world. When you're not at the Temple, your location will show as a blue dot. If a dot is violet, that means there's a problem with the platform there. You can see that there are a lot of violet dots. The Sukkers managed to destroy many of the platforms, usually by concentrated blasts or artillery barrage. They would just lob stones or other missiles in the general direction of the platform until it broke. And we don't know how to fix them.
"But there are still a great many working platforms. As it happens, every major city around the world has one. We theorize that each city was built because there was a platform there. Some of the archives record that, so we assume this applies to all of them. Most of the platforms, however, are not around any settled areas. This makes it far easier to move around, let me assure you. It always causes a scene when we appear out of nowhere, so we prefer being able to do so with no witnesses.
"Now that you've decided where you want to go, you think about that place. You'll get to know the platforms, have no fear. We have a comprehensive list that you may look at whenever you wish, but the Ancients thoughtfully left us all with the ability to figure it out on our own, as well. Today, we're going to Suljem, Ivrithan's capital, so that we may formally introduce you to the world (it's the most neutral country towards us). We're hosting a press conference at the Parliament House, which is actually where the platform is. Rather, it's in the basement of the Parliament House. This will allow us to make that unseen entrance we were speaking of. Alright, Fulenthen, why don't you do the honors?"
Face blank, Fulenthen nodded and stepped forward, taking Heleathon's place on the now-blank diagram. The press conference was today, now? The one to tell the world about her? They hadn't told her when it would be beforehand, letting her fall into a kind of security, hoping that they might forget to do this. They'd waited three months not only to give her time to acclimate to her new situation but also to give the attendees time to arrive. Ordinary people were limited to traditional methods of travel, after all. It made horrible sense. And with all the Descendants surrounding her, she couldn't easily return to the Temple.
Shifting to settle herself and feeling her tail flick behind her, Fulenthen looked up at the wall. Without quite knowing how, she called up the map and stared at the innumerable dots. She remembered her basic geography enough to know where Ivrithan was, but exactly where Suljem was, she didn't know. Her brow creased slightly as she thought. One dot on the eastern side of Ivrithan flared, and the map disappeared. With it, the entire section of the wall vanished.
In its place was another room, with another etched floor exactly like the one she stood on. The ceiling was considerably lower, barely a third of a yard above her head; her hair would brush against it when she walked in. Beyond the platform area were two guards in Ivrithan national uniforms, carrying the latest automated rifles. Both snapped the guns to the ready as soon as the wall vanished. When they saw her standing there, they relaxed slightly. Behind them stood two large doors re
aching from floor to ceiling, which were closed.
"Excellent work, Sister," Alleathon said quietly, coming up behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder. Fulenthen glanced back at him; he wore an easy smile, which she timidly returned. It was no longer so disorienting to be able to look his directly in the eye when she remembered that his real form came barely to her real waist. "Now come, we have people to meet before the conference. And do not be afraid," he added in a whisper. "We are all here; nothing will harm you."
Fulenthen nodded as Alleathon and Laillmen walked past her. Ordinarily, she had been informed, Lithilon Xaylen and Sonelion Ryalen (Tad and Clatyn) would have walked behind them, as the next in rank. Lithilon curtly motioned her ahead; since this was her day, she realized that she now had the honor. She could have done without it and not been sad.
The guards saluted as they drew near, coming to strict attention. "Sir!" the one on the right addressed Alleathon in crisp Ivrithan typical of the northern settlements. "President Beythan awaits you all upstairs. I'll escort you up at once."
"Our thanks, Lieutenant," Alleathon replied warmly. As they followed the soldier through the doorway, another slipped in to fill his place in the room, relieving him of his weapon. Fulenthen noted there were several more in the hall just outside the room, all of whom spared only a professional glance for the Descendants.
The trip through the Parliament building failed to impress Fulenthen, who was carefully not panicking at the impending exhibition before who knew how many strangers. She'd lived so long in the shadows, desperately trying not to be seen. From behind her, she heard Kiemelen Navvason (Konyetta) whisper, "We're right here with you. We're with you."
"Yes," Vyenthon also whispered, trusting her heightened hearing. "You've always got us."
She nodded slightly to let them know she'd heard. Then she worked to breathe calmly. It helped that the suit also brought a kind of cool logic to the world. Every time she summoned her Ancient "father's" name, she felt her emotions wash away. Not entirely, as her present struggle clearly showed, but far more than she had ever accomplished on her own. Demney said this was to help them in battle, since fighting people seemed to get so heated up and careless. At least the facade gave her far more calm than thinking of her human father.
The first several minutes of their walk was through empty corridors with plain walls and simple gas light fixtures. After the second staircase, however, they began to see other people. Most of those were cleaning crew, who simply nodded at the Descendants and continued working. The first errand-boy, a young man of some twenty years, however, flattened himself against the wall with a gasp, dropping half the stack of papers he'd been carrying. Alleathon ignored him and continued on, with the other Descendants following his lead. Fulenthen stretched her ears to listen after they had passed, since turning to look probably would not have been in good form.
"Did you see them? It was them! They're really here! And that one, the new one-- she has a tail!" He sounded flabbergasted but not (entirely) fearful. Fulenthen switched her tail self-consciously, eliciting another gasp as she rounded the corner.
"You're doing fine," Laillmen whispered over her shoulder, slowing just enough that Fulenthen could casually come up beside her. "Nothing to worry about."
"I'm walking around in public with no clothes on, and there's nothing to worry about?" Fulenthen hissed back.
"That's true," Laillmen whispered back with a tiny chuckle. "I still don't like it, if that's any consolation. I still have to remind myself to not try to cover up every time. You get used to it, but there's no rule that you have to like it. My mother still gets upset whenever I go to visit, though she, too, has become accustomed to it. Most of us don't really enjoy it."
"That's a relief," Fulenthen muttered as they climbed another set of stairs, this one ornamented with carved banisters and slabs of marble tile, leading up to a grand mezzanine filled with people. The architecture recalled earlier eras and blended them with modern functionality: gas lamps, electrical chandeliers, and fashionable decorations. Fulenthen had never paid great attention to style, so she wasn't certain how well it matched. She felt completely out of place in the formal setting, and the difference in heights didn't help that at all. Towering over the humans made her that much more the target.
The loud, buzzing chatter halted as the people caught sight of the Descendants climbing the stairs. It started up again almost immediately, quieter and more urgent as the group passed by. Looking around as stealthily as she could, Fulenthen noted there were only one or two women in the whole group, and they did not appear to be there to work. One who stood fairly close to where the lieutenant led the Descendants was carrying papers and had the harried look of a secretary, so she was perhaps the exception. The others were dressed elegantly, as though for an afternoon social function. And perhaps they were; Konyetta had said that new Descendants appeared but rarely.
Having crossed the mezzanine, the group followed the guard down a wide, well-furnished hall-way paneled in dark wood, lit with electrical lights, sparsely lined with carved doors set with engraved brass plaques, and high enough ceilings that Fulenthen no longer felt so cramped. Around another corner, they passed another pair of guards, who came to attention and allowed them to pass without comment; the lieutenant shared a salute with them. This was a shorter hall-way that ended in another pair of doors, which opened as they approached. Fulenthen wished she had saliva in her mouth so that she could swallow some of her nerves.
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