Quantum Shadows

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Seldom, that’s true. But not never, and great and sudden changes in any society or culture have seldom resulted in anything beneficial or any lasting good. Nor has an insistence on the acceptance of one great and fixed truth ever resulted in anything other than renewed conflict.”

  “Do your departure from Helios and your appearance here foreshadow such drastic change? Or conflict?”

  Corvyn smiled politely. “That remains to be seen.”

  “Then you are indeed the Raven … and we may see troubled times.”

  “I’ve been called that, but be skeptical of names and what you believe of them as well.”

  The chef smiled. “I’d say that you belong more in Volos than Helios.”

  “That might be true, but I am here this evening. Because Heaven is as it is, most times I need to be in Helios.” And most likely anywhere but Volos. “But I did enjoy the dinner … and the conversation.”

  Rennopoulos inclined his head. “I will not trouble you further, but your words were … enlightening … perhaps revealing … and a little disturbing.” He eased out of the chair and inclined his head once more, then turned and slipped away.

  Corvyn took a last sip of the bergamot tea, then nodded to his server.

  She immediately moved to the table. “The dinner is our pleasure, seigneur.”

  “You won’t allow me…?”

  She smiled. “Your presence will more than repay us.”

  Corvyn did not argue, but stood, took her hand, and briefly and lightly pressed his lips to it. “My appreciation.”

  Then he eased his way from the restaurant, well aware than many of the diners had remarked upon his presence. Whether that would prove beneficial or immaterial remained to be seen. But it was an excellent dinner.

  Those souls who threaten Raven’s shade

  may find their holy truth unstayed.

  27

  Corvyn slept well, and without dreams, for which he was grateful, not that he would not have more nightmares, for such were his lot, given who and what he had been for longer than he wished to recall … and perhaps a good dinner and interesting conversation might have been one reason for his comparatively untroubled sleep. He breakfasted adequately at the Polyteleia and arrived at the courier boat dock almost an hour before the scheduled departure time.

  The boat was a deep blue with white edge piping and roughly forty meters long with essentially no decking, hardly surprising, given the speeds at which most courier craft traveled. The name on the stem plate read Blue Dolphin.

  Even before Corvyn got off the electrobike, a crewman in blue singlesuit appeared.

  “Seigneur Poe? Might I assist with stowing your conveyance?”

  “Thank you. You might, once I remove my travel cases.”

  In moments, the one crewman had taken the bike to one of several lockers in the rear of the superstructure and linked the lock to Corvyn while a second crew member—an older dark-haired woman—escorted him to the salon suite, a slight misnomer. The quarters consisted of a sleeping chamber barely large enough to accommodate the moderately spacious bed, a small bathroom, and a modest sitting room with a small table and two chairs set beside the window that took up most of the outboard bulkhead.

  Before his escort could leave, Corvyn asked, “When will we arrive in Keifeng?”

  “At nine tomorrow morning, sir.”

  Corvyn mentally calculated, then asked, “How many stops?”

  “Three. Each an hour. The first is at Ilium, then Lothal. HoiAn is the last stop, but you’re likely to still be sleeping then, unless you’re a very early riser. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Once the attendant left, Corvyn moved the two cases to the narrow space between the inboard bulkhead and the head of the bed, then returned to the “salon,” where he seated himself at the table, on the side where he could look forward. As he waited for the crew to finish departure preparations, he considered what might or might not lie before him. Shortly, the lines were cast off, and the Dolphin moved smoothly and almost silently away from the pier and toward the middle of the river on electric drives.

  Once in deeper water, the Dolphin accelerated and rose smoothly onto its hydrofoils, and Corvyn turned his attention to considering possible ways to shorten his inquiries. Close to three hours later, with little real progress, he decided to find some nourishment, although he did not expect to find much variety on a vessel that carried at most thirty-nine passengers.

  The restaurant was small, with just nine tables. While Corvyn doubted omens, the three threes of the arrangement bothered him nonetheless, although he knew that the restaurant couldn’t have been arranged just to discomfit him. He took the sole remaining window table, facing forward and looking toward the hatchway into the compartment. After noting the limited menu displayed on the dark blue impermite surface of the table itself, he touched the two items that he wanted—bergamot tea and the lamb souvlaki wrap. He just hoped that the tzatziki was not too bitter.

  Less than ten minutes later the single server brought him his order, along with a large napkin, also dark blue. “Would you like anything else, sir?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He took a sip of the tea, not outstanding, but not terrible. The lamb souvlaki wrap was slightly better, simply because the flatbread that wrapped the lamb was fresh, the lamb warm, and the tzatziki mild. He finished eating—he could not call it dining—just as the courier boat slowed, then slowly settled off the hydrofoils and into the yellow-green river water.

  Once fully in the water, the craft angled to starboard and headed for the light gray river walls of Ilium, which formed a massive stone prow separating the waters of the two rivers—the Yellow and the bluer waters of the River Acheron. Upstream on the Acheron more than two hundred milles lay Aethena, the City of the Maid. While he would likely need to go to Aethena, it made more sense to start in Keifeng and work his way back eastward, since he had strong doubts that the Maid had much to do with the tridents—especially anything involving the killing of the two Valkyries.

  At the same time, the courier boat would be stopping for roughly an hour, and Corvyn decided that it wouldn’t hurt for him to at least walk along the river and get a feel for Ilium, since it was unlikely he would visit the City of Ares any other time soon.

  Once the courier boat docked, Corvyn waited for disembarking passengers to clear the gangway before making his way onto the pier. Everywhere that Corvyn immediately looked, he saw dull gray—from the clean lines of the stone piers to the high stone river walls and even to the buildings on the crest of the point overlooking the junction of the two rivers. The stones were all cut and fitted precisely.

  With military precision.

  With a wry smile, he walked toward the gray stone structure set back from the pier and raised several meters, most likely the domain of the portmaster. Even the few dockworkers that he saw—both men and women—wore gray. The omnipresent gray exuded the feel of storms, even though the pink sky was clear and the sun still well above the horizon. Ilium definitely looked and felt like the city of the war god.

  Corvyn had almost reached the ramp leading up to the portmaster’s building when he saw a young man, neither thin nor burly, nor tall nor short, walking toward him. The man wore a gray officers’ uniform, with thin red piping on the long sleeves and the trousers. He seemed most unremarkable until he drew nearer, and Corvyn sensed the projection of fear emanating from him. That, along with the fiery red eyes, told him who he was about to meet. The uniformed young man stopped short of Corvyn, who also halted and waited to see what the other had to say.

  “Are you visiting as the harbinger of war, raven god?”

  “I’m no god, Phobos. Are you here at your father’s bidding?”

  “He would bid you welcome, especially if you’re inclined to stay awhile. But he is currently occupied and sent me in his stead.”

  “I’m honored and appreciate the courtesy. I’m but pa
ssing through, and I thought I might take a brief walk before my boat continues on.”

  “Up the Acheron, perhaps?”

  “No. Up the Yellow River.”

  “There’s little in Keifeng, and less of honor.”

  “Oh? How would you define honor, then?”

  “Honor cannot be defined. It can only be earned through triumph in battle. Any other so-called honor is empty.”

  And war is peace, and freedom is slavery. “You do sound like your father, Phobos. Hasn’t the time for war passed?”

  “The universe is based on war, honored Raven, from the very beginning—matter triumphing over antimatter, force over passivity, men wrenching iron from the ground and turning it into tools and the weapons that forged civilization and advanced it.” Fires flashed from Phobos’s eyes, and each word issued forth like a flaming missile.

  “I can see you feel strongly about the need for war,” replied Corvyn evenly.

  “War alone imposes the stamp of nobility on those who have the courage to make it.”

  “I see. And against whom would you think to make war? And with which allies? Those in Keifeng? Or elsewhere?”

  Phobos laughed, a not-quite-maniacal sound. “You cannot trick me into revealing what has not yet occurred. But there will be war. There will always be war, because men need honor, and only war can provide that honor.”

  “There has been no war in Heaven…”

  “What about the pogrom of the missionaries?”

  “That was the slaughter of misguided innocents and a few handfuls of even more misguided Apostles of the Saints.”

  Phobos laughed again. “You see, honored Raven … you agree with me. There is no honor in Heaven, and the only violence was that of a slaughter of those without honor.”

  Corvyn did not agree, but Phobos would see what he would see, like all those so wrapped in their truths that neither facts nor the feelings of others could dent that armored certainty. “You may have a long wait for the honor of war.”

  “I can wait until the universe is a cold cinder.”

  That, Corvyn could believe. “Is there anything else from your most honorable sire?”

  “Nothing, except his respects, despite your differences.”

  “I appreciate his felicitations and bid you convey my respects to him as well.”

  “I will do that.” With a smile simultaneously both open and sly, Phobos inclined his head, then turned and walked rapidly away, vanishing into the shadows after a score of steps.

  Corvyn resumed his walk, wondering if Ares was somehow connected with the tridents, but Poseidon’s symbol had been the trident and once upon a time, the two had been opponents, not allies. But then, using an opponent’s symbol would certainly confuse the matter. Except Ares is only a city god and far weaker than a hegemon.

  He kept walking for a time, but sensed no other powers or principalities. Finally, he turned and headed back toward the Blue Dolphin, having gained only the impression of a city governed by rules without a deeper meaning, despite all of Phobos’s words about war and honor.

  When Corvyn had almost reached the Blue Dolphin, a half-familiar figure stepped forward. An unseen red shadow suffused the personage, or rather the power.

  Corvyn stopped and addressed the other. “Why are you using the avatar of Rudianos, honored God of War? Is that so you don’t anger the Maid? Or is there some other reason for taking another form in your own city?”

  “Neither happens to be the case. This way, I’m not required to destroy you, Raven. In fact, I’m here to offer you some friendly advice. I suggest that, even with the shadows at your beck and call, you consider not traveling farther on the water.”

  Because the water limits the power of that red-fired black blade of your avatar? Corvyn did not voice that thought, but nodded.

  “It might be best if you left the courier boat,” added Rudianos quietly.

  “Why, might I ask?”

  “Just friendly advice. It’s up to you.” With that the red-haired and broad-shouldered warrior turned and walked back along the gray stone pier without hesitation or a glance back, not that Corvyn would have expected that.

  What was that all about? Frowning, Corvyn attempted to shadow-sense Rudianos/Ares, but the ancient had vanished and was now beyond his senses, suggesting that he had used the shadows to move well away from the courier boat. And why would he suggest I leave the Blue Dolphin?

  Corvyn had no desire to repeat what had happened outside the Gentile Inn in Corinne, yet there had been no animosity in Rudianos’s words, a fact that seemed strangely at odds with their last encounter. And why had Ares manifested himself as Rudianos while instructing Phobos to greet Corvyn and tell him that his father was occupied elsewhere? Why the words about not having to destroy Corvyn? What power would have compelled that of Ares?

  You’re missing something. But there were so many possible interpretations of the situation, and given what Corvyn didn’t know, in the end, he decided to return to the Blue Dolphin.

  Once aboard, he walked to the rear observation area and watched from there as the Blue Dolphin left the gray stone piers at Ilium and turned westward to head up the Yellow River, quickly picking up speed. He was about to return to his quarters when another blue-singlesuited crewman approached him.

  “Sir, Seigneur Poe?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did the messenger get to you?”

  “Was he a broad-shouldered redheaded man?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He found me on the pier.”

  “Very good, sir. I just wanted to make sure. He said he had an urgent message for you. He said it was important.”

  “I did get his message. Thank you for checking.”

  “My pleasure, sir.” The crewman nodded, then turned and left the observation area.

  That didn’t make any more sense than what Rudianos/Ares had said. Why had he tried to kill Corvyn at the previous meeting and then suggest he leave the courier boat, almost as a warning, the second time?

  Still puzzling over the matter, Corvyn made his way back to his quarters, using his senses and the shadows to inspect the boat the best he could, but he sensed nothing amiss. Once in the salon, he inspected his quarters as well, most carefully, and also found nothing. After reading some of a tome of ancient poetry, or what would have been a tome had it not existed in a far more compact form, he finally readied himself for sleep, hopefully without disturbing dreams.

  A raven beyond Heaven’s wall, enthroned,

  pinions blackened from the Fall, intoned.

  28

  Blinding light surrounded Corvyn. Even before he fully woke, he instinctively threw himself into the shadows, but the shadows that largely shielded him twisted as if the very fabric of space-time had been violently warped. He felt as though he flew through some of that light upside down, pinions heat-blackened, before slamming into something unyielding.

  Swirling cold ripped through the shadows, and Corvyn was tossed about in waters with hot and cold currents alternately buffeting him. Somehow, he made it to the surface, trying to breathe and clear his throat.

  How … how did you get in the river?

  Then he recalled the heat and blinding light and his instinctive flight into the shadows, and he shivered, not just from the chill of the water, but from the realization of what must have happened. He trod water, trying to get his bearings, until he saw points of light gathering on the shore. He began to swim in their direction, not that he would likely make it to them, given the current, but if he could keep swimming, he would have a chance to make the shore farther downstream.

  How long it took, he did not know, but his legs were numb and his arms not much better when he finally reached the lower river wall. He half climbed, half crawled out of the water, wearing little but the shorts in which he had been sleeping, when a voice called out.

  “There’s someone here!”

  Two figures hurried toward him, and lights flashed across his figure. The
two immediately ran toward him.

  “Can you move? Are you hurt?” asked the man as he neared.

  “I … don’t … think so…” Corvyn managed. “Just numb in places…”

  “Are you sure?” asked the woman.

  “I’m … not sure of anything … but … I don’t think so.”

  With that, the woman helped him the rest of the way out of the water.

  “Were you on the boat? Or were you on another boat?” The man helped Corvyn to a sitting position on the grass bordering the stone of the river wall.

  “I was on … the courier … boat … Blue Dolphin…”

  “What caused the explosion?” asked the woman as she wrapped a thin thermal sheet around him.

  “I don’t know,” answered Corvyn honestly. He had his suspicions, but he didn’t know. Not yet. “I was sleeping. Then there was light, and I felt like I was being seared, and then I was in the river.”

  The woman played the light over his face and neck. “You’re red in places, and that’s after being in the water. The immersion might have mitigated the worse of the burns. We’ll have to see once we get you to the clinic.”

  “Where am I?” asked Corvyn. “Besides on the bank of the Yellow River, that is?”

  “Luoyang. Baiyin’s the nearest big town. It’s thirty milles upstream.”

  “How far from HoiAn?”

  “Forty milles or so,” replied the woman.

  “Can you walk, if we help you?” asked the man.

  “I should be able to,” Corvyn replied.

  The man offered a hand, and Corvyn took it, levering himself up off the grass. He felt sore in places and suspected he would feel more so by the next day. “Did you see what happened?”

  “There was a brilliant light and then an explosion. It was on the river. So it had to be a boat,” replied the man.

  “It was a courier boat headed for Keifeng,” Corvyn explained.

  “Of course,” said the woman. “All the Dolphin boats are couriers.”