The Madness of Kings

by Gene Doucette

  That was how Porra continued to think of it.

  Whatever it was called, she wouldn’t be able to get very far into it without permission. Here she was thinking of both the second sublevel—which she knew existed—and any additional levels beneath it, which at this time were only hypothetical.

  The entrance to the second sublevel was guarded by the terribly advanced security of a rope across a stairwell. Porra didn’t doubt that she could foil it. But when Kenson and Battine went past that rope as children, they were quickly caught, which implied that the area was frequented by monks. She could perhaps evade the rope, go down and if discovered, assert that her royal status was authorization enough, but whether she would then be allowed to stay down there or not, Alva would find out.

  Which would be fine, if the room Porra was looking for was on the second sublevel. But if her sister’s description of the floor was accurate, the mystery room captured by Kenson’s voicer wasn’t there either.

  Porra wondered what it would take to convince the High Hat to let her go farther.

  Were this a political matter, Porra might manage to find something Alva wanted, and then obtain the necessary leverage to get that for her. It was how things were usually done in the Middle Kingdoms, especially when it came to arranged marriages. But Alva wasn’t going to be taking a blessed bride or groom, and the Great Temple didn’t have the kind of needs and wants of the kingdoms. In short, Vilto Alva had no pressure points of which Porra was aware.

  Even if she did, the widow queen of Totus kingdom likely had no way to apply that pressure.

  So, she couldn’t sneak down and she couldn’t force the High Hat to permit her to go. That left her with option three.

  Unfortunately, thus far no option three had presented itself.

  There was a knock on her chamber door.

  “Enter,” she said.

  “Doing the rounds, your ladyship,” Orean said. She stepped in with a torch that Porra wished she’d left in the sconce in the hall. Porra’s eyes were adjusted for candlelight.

  “I have no needs this evening, thank you Orean,” Porra said. “You may retire.”

  “’Course.”

  Annoyingly, the girl didn’t leave the room. She closed the door, which was appropriate, only she was standing on the wrong side of it.

  “I said…”

  “I know, queen,” Orean said. “I heard all right.”

  “Yet you remain here.”

  “Thought we should talk.”

  “Did you.”

  “I did, yeah.” Orean stuck the torch in a sconce and sat in the chair near the door.

  Porra had the good sense to wonder if she should be concerned. The chambermaid had never—while in Porra’s company—displayed a proclivity for violence, but that didn’t mean she lacked the capacity.

  “What can I do for you, Orean?” Porra asked.

  “Well? This is just me noticing, queen, but it seems you’re looking for something.”

  “I am indeed,” Porra said. “I’m looking for peace. Having lost both my husband and sister, I’m here to seek guidance, to find a way to an internal quietude from the highest religious figure in the kingdoms. Will that be all?”

  “Right. And you’re thinking peace is hiding in one of these rooms around here, I guess.”

  “I’ve…done some roaming.” Porra made a mental note to reevaluate her estimation of the chambermaid. It was the fifth or sixth such note.

  “You’re also not doing all that much counsel-seeking, so far’s I see,” Orean said.

  “The High Hat is quite busy. Now before I decide to ship you back to Totus for this impertinence, girl, what are you getting at?”

  Orean didn’t blink at the threat. She was acting like someone who had something of value in her back pocket. Or thought she did.

  “Come on, your queenness. Of all the people around, who else are you going to confide in? Vexy? The other one? Best they can promise is they’ll probably stay upright when walking as long as they don’t have to answer questions at the same time.”

  “Your estimation of their capacities is wanting, Orean. And I can keep my own counsel.”

  “Well here’s what I’m thinking. I’m thinking the place you’re looking for is in the tunnels somewhere.”

  “The tunnels.”

  “Underneath. Like what Totus had. Catacombs or whatever. This temple has the same thing. I’ve been down there.”

  This was a surprise, although it shouldn’t have been. Releasing someone as curious on this island was bound to have consequences. No doubt the girl was bored.

  “How far underground did you get?” Porra asked.

  “Not far. I’m thinking all the interesting stuff’s behind a magic door, and I can’t get past that.”

  “A magic…how by the Five did you manage this?”

  Orean shrugged. “Not so hard to slip past a guard or two when they’re all wearing them hoods. Can’t see out the sides of those things. You just gotta be quiet.”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “Why not? Nothing else to do. Used to be I couldn’t go a day without someone getting handsy. Truth, I’m starting to miss the hassle. Makes a girl start going where she doesn’t belong.”

  “Were you caught?”

  “Eventually, yeah,” Orean said. “I just tell ‘em I got lost and that’s that. You’ve no idea how much fooling about you can get to when nobody thinks you’re a threat. Any rate, if what you’re looking to find is down there, I’m saying you won’t get far.”

  “Because of the magic door.”

  “You’ve got it. But don’t worry; I’ve worked it out. I know who can get you past the door. But it’ll be tricky. You’ve gotta really want to go, queenness, so if I’m wrong about your interests, now’s when you find your voice.”

  “Then…you’re not wrong, Orean. I am looking for something, I do think it’s hidden belowground, and I am in need of a way to get to it. Tell me how to get past the door.”

  Orean nodded. “Good,” she said. “But before I tell you that, we gotta talk about another thing. It’s just as important.”

  “Orean, if you would please just…”

  “I helped the princess escape,” Orean said.

  Porra nearly fell off her chair.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Her and the mister both. I figured you knew this already, but I had to say it out loud because we got other things to talk about after.”

  “I…assumed you did but…” Porra said. Her head was spinning. Do I turn you back over to Tannik, Orean? she thought. Do you want to be hanged? “It would have been best had it remained unspoken. You put me in an unfortunate position.”

  “Sure, I know. You can hang me later if you want.”

  Orean’s demeanor had changed drastically in just a minute of conversation. Porra realized why: The girl was talking to Porra as if they were equals. It was jarring.

  “Anyway,” Orean said, “I dunno why you said you lost her.”

  “When…?”

  “Just now. You said you lost your husband and your sister. The princess, she’s just missing.”

  “Battine may as well be lost, to me. And she has nothing to do with why I’m here so I don’t know why we’re still talking about her.”

  “But not lost like, ‘oh my husband’s dead’ lost.”

  “Orean…”

  “No disrespect meant,” Orean said, in a tone that suggested that sometimes she did mean disrespect; this just didn’t happen to be one of those times. “You get me.”

  “Fine. Now can we move on from Battine?”

  “I haven’t changed the subject, milady. It’s just a bigger topic than you’re thinking, but I’m still on about the thing you’re looking for. I don’t know what it is but I can tell you that you’re not the only one on this island who’s out looking for it.”

  “Who else?”

  Orean smiled. “Like I just said, the princess isn’t lost; she’s just missing. And she�
�s not missing neither.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It took two days for Orean Gustys to get her hands on the Septal robes bearing the badges needed to get Battine and Damid into the levels beneath the temple. They came with some valuable advice.

  “I been studying where you’re looking to go,” Orean said. “I had to make sure I lifted the ones with the right patches, so ‘course I went back down there first.”

  “Did they see you?” Battine asked. They were speaking through the open window of Batt’s bedchamber. Damid was back in his own room, which was one floor up.

  “Not that it matters but no. I’m sure these are the right ones for you, but more’n that, I can tell you your best shot of getting through’s at about half past nineteen.”

  “Why then?”

  “Shift change or something. Nobody’ll be at the top of the stairs ‘round then, so it’s an easier go. And once you get down there you won’t be interrupted for a spell. When d’you mean to do it?”

  “As soon as possible. Don’t want anyone missing these robes. Tomorrow.”

  “The Five be with you both, then.”

  “Thank you, Orean,” Battine said. “I don’t know how we could have done this without you.”

  “Sure. Good to help without the threat of a hanging. Lemme know how it turns out.”

  There was no need to sneak out of the barracks. Save for the one place they were trying to get into, effectively the entire island was accessible to anyone who felt like wandering it, at any time of day.

  “The hard part,” Damid Magly said one time, before their arrival, “was obtaining the invitation in the first place.”

  Magly’s friend, the now dead monk from Velon, had evidently been trying to do just that for a number of years without success. One of the things the professor was supposed to do when he made it into the Middle Kingdoms—and it was difficult enough to get an invite for that—was visit the Great Temple, and then report back on the security there.

  It was an odd request. Damid declined to elaborate on why his friend, a high-ranking Septal, would be so interested in the nature of the island’s security. Battine would have pressed him on it, but there were more important things with which to concern themselves than the wants and needs of a dead man half a world away.

  When the time came, they slipped into the stolen robes and just walked out.

  The way into the sublevels was down a staircase located in the back of the temple, in a small room behind the main altar of the cathedral that was intended to house the celebrants before the weekly paeans.

  They walked through the cathedral’s middle aisle as if they belonged there, into the back room, and to the top of the stairs. Unlike their earlier attempts, there was nobody around to ask them their business; Orean had given them good advice on the timing.

  Battine stuck a hand inside her robe until she found the pommel of her sword.

  “Last chance,” she said. “This is my business, not yours. My capture doesn’t have to mean yours as well.”

  “It’s more my business than you think,” he said. “Lead on.”

  Battine grabbed a lantern that was resting on a hook beside the staircase, and touched the candle inside of it to one of the already-lit candles that lined the wall of the room. (The main cathedral, the halls, and the rooms in the temple were all lit by candles in the evening. It was some unfortunate monk’s duty to make sure they all stayed lit.)

  She led the way down.

  The first sublevel was mostly empty of interesting things. It had a number of rooms that were used as classrooms during her childhood, mainly involving the study of books that weren’t supposed to leave the temple. Those books lived on rolling carrels during class, but likely came from the bookshelves that took up the next level.

  “I am thus far unimpressed,” Magly said.

  “This isn’t the big break you were hoping for?” she asked.

  “I doubt Ken was risking his life to smuggle out images of a dark hallway, no.”

  “Come on, there’s a staircase at the far end.”

  He was slightly more impressed by the second sublevel, but only slightly.

  It was the library. The books were locked, so they could do little more than tilt their heads and attempt to read the spines. Damid took out his voicer and activated the torch function on it to examine some of them.

  “This would have made Orno very happy,” he said. “Some of these, he was probably one of the few people in the world who could read them. It’s hard to believe they’re just out in the open like this.”

  “They are locked down,” she pointed out.

  “That just means I can’t read them. I already can’t read them. For a couple of these volumes, it’s enough to know they exist.”

  He began capturing images of the spines with his voicer.

  “We’re not here to catalog the books,” she said.

  “I know, I know, but this is a find unto itself. You know certain Septal chapters don’t even acknowledge the existence of a pre-Collapse civilization? If any of these books are pre-Collapse—and I think they are—it would be a big deal. You’re taught something like that here, aren’t you?”

  “Not an absence of a civilization,” she said. “Just an uncivil one.”

  They were taught that the Collapse was the final stroke of the Outcast, invoked by a society that worshipped him. Whether they knew it or not. (They were also taught that the world outside the nine kingdoms continued to worship him.) It was inferred that the pre-Collapse culture was barbaric, and barbaric civilizations aren’t expected to produce texts. Ergo, pre-Collapse books were rare and/or didn’t exist at all. This interpretation elided over the fact that the House had always been the keepers of the faith, and everyone accepted that Septalism did predate the Collapse. Therefore, their having books from back then didn’t really contradict anything.

  “Do you think this is everything?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Other chapters keep a vault. Not just for books; for important artifacts in addition to books. Orno sent me images of the one in the Velon main chapter so I had an idea of what to look for if I had a chance to come here. I haven’t seen anything like that yet. Just books on shelves, and no special artifacts.”

  “I’ve heard no mention of a vault,” she said. “But if there is one, it’s no doubt below us somewhere. And I confess to not knowing what a ‘special artifact’ might look like.”

  “He sent me an image of one of those too,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I see it.”

  This was not the time to engage in an extended discussion of what his dead friend disclosed. More or less any moment before it would have been a better time. She was aggravated, and considered telling him so, but this was also not the time to have an extended argument.

  “Put that device away,” she said. “I believe the door to the next level is at the end of this corridor.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “As a child, I hid in a corner five paces from where you’re standing,” she said. “I was found by two monks who stopped what they were doing to return me to the upper level. Before doing so, they were walking in that direction.”

  There was indeed a door at the end of the room. It was embedded in an alcove that—in a way Battine couldn’t quite put words to—seemed older than what was around it. That wasn’t the most curious aspect of it, though. The most curious aspect was that unlike any other door she’d encountered on the island (and perhaps any door she’d encountered in the nine kingdoms) it was made of metal.

  “Is that your vault?” she asked, holding the lantern up to the face of the door. It was a dull black metal—she took it to be iron, despite the coloration—with studded steel bars crisscrossed over the middle and bordering the edges.

  It had no handle, so it was possible it was not a door, but she couldn’t think of what else it might be instead.

  “It doesn’t look like anything he showed me,” he sa
id. “But it’s a promising sign that we’re going in the right direction.”

  “I fear this may be the termination of that promise, Damid. I see no way to open it.”

  “Stand aside. Let me have a look.”

  She stepped back, as Damid once again activated the light in his voicer.

  “Curious,” he said, running the beam along the jamb. “It’s definitely meant to be opened.” He touched the right side of the alcove. “Smooth part here…hang on.”

  He pushed the wall. There was a click and the smooth section fell open, revealing a console of some kind beneath it.

  “This panel has power,” he said.

  “How do you mean?” she asked. Her first understanding of the word power was along the lines of political influence, which was surely not what he intended.

  “Electrical power. Look.”

  He turned off the voicer light. There was a glass screen in the panel that was glowing a gentle blue. In the event she felt like writing that off as a consequence of her eyes adjusting to the darkness, there were also three flashing red dots beneath the screen to bolster his point.

  “I don’t know how,” she said. “There’s no means to generate electricity on the island.”

  “I’m sure that’s what you were told.”

  “All right, then it’s powered by electricity. But that’s allowed. There must be a steam engine inside. Or wind turbine somewhere.”

  “Battine, this is an ID scanner. Since I don’t see an optical lens anywhere, I’m guessing it uses fingerprints or handprints for verification. Even if it’s lit up by a permissible source of energy the technology itself isn’t supposed to be here. And as old as this looks, it may be more advanced than my voicer.”

  “But that’s absurd.”

  “Maybe not. I’ve heard rumors of advanced pre-Collapse tech. It’s a popular thread on the Stream.”

  “Gods, it’s really you,” someone said from behind them.

  Battine opened her robe and drew her sword before she even turned.

  “Who’s there?” she asked.