Beyond The Gate - Book 2 of the Golden Queen Series

by David Farland

  But the information she needed most was not available. Once the creature invaded its host, the nanoware inside was extruded into the host's brain, and that nanoware could not be studied without microscopic sensors that Maggie's mantle did not have.

  So Maggie asked it to make a guess about the most logical functionality of the thing based on current technology. The mantle suggested that the system required several components: an antenna system to receive signals; an amplifier to boost the signal; a power system to power the amplifier; and a neural interface that would let the Inhuman's message be sent directly to the brain.

  Beyond those four systems, Maggie didn't know what else the Word might have incorporated into it. But Maggie considered each of these systems, wondering how to sabotage them.

  The antenna was first on her list. Her mantle said that since the human body already worked as an antenna, receiving radio signals due to the electromagnetic field created by ionized salts within the body, the Word would need to do very little to actually receive the signals. The body already could receive signals, it just wouldn't recognize them. But solar interference during the day might distort signals, weakening them to the point that they would be worthless. And beings living underground might not receive the signals at all. And the dronon may have taken these factors into account.

  Her mantle whispered that the human body could be greatly enhanced as an antenna by temporarily introducing small amounts of metallic salts, and Maggie suspected that such metallic salts would disperse evenly throughout the body.

  But the main thing that the Word needed was not a better antenna, but a good amplifier, and that amplifier would be powered by converting body heat into electrical energy.

  Maggie noted that the servants of the Inhuman had kept the Word close to their bodies, kept them warm, and she suspected that the biogenerator was concealed in the body of the creature, probably with the amplifier. If she could get that biogenerator to cool, the Word would die.

  But the Word had burrowed to the base of Gallen's skull and had actually inserted itself inside the skull, making it almost impossible to remove.

  Gallen had said that he felt it "moving in his skull," and Maggie had the very disturbing notion that he might have been right. Once the creature made its entrance at the base of the skull, it might well have moved higher into the brain to protect itself.

  Once there, it had little difficulty sending a chain of nanoware devices into the brain and spinal column, forming new neural pathways so that it could send its message to its host.

  Once there, the Word had only to receive its signals from the Inhuman, then convey the information to Gallen. He recalled two lifetimes in only two minutes, which suggested to Maggie that an incredible amount of information was being downloaded rapidly.

  But those possessed by the Inhuman were not being controlled individually, of that she was sure. If they were all connected through a transmission network, they would have been able to send and receive information instantly, coordinating their attacks without even voicing commands.

  But back in town, the hunting packs of the Inhuman had relied upon their scouts to convey verbal communications. Which meant that the Inhuman, once it fed its propaganda to a host, released the host, expecting it to act at its own discretion.

  The Word. . . . Maggie recalled how her attacker in Northland had talked about it almost reverently, as something to enjoy. And Gallen had been seduced by its touch, and now craved to hear more. When she'd first looked at his face, he had been filled with joy and peace and loss. His eyes had been shining with an emotion she hesitated to name—ecstacy.

  And Maggie realized that the entire process, rather than being dark and frightening, had been designed to be something far more palatable for its victim-perhaps even something desirable. Perhaps that was why the Tekkar were converted so quickly; instead of running from the Inhuman, they embraced it joyously.

  Maggie considered the Word, as she walked up a steep incline, wondered how to combat it.

  If she were a surgeon and had the proper equipment, perhaps she could have destroyed the neural network. But she wasn't prepared to perform brain surgery out here in the woods. Likewise, she couldn't risk trying to open Gallen's brain to get to the Word's amplifier or biogenerators.

  She wondered if it might be possible to damage the Word, corrode the nanoware with chemicals—but her mantle whispered that such an attempt would be dangerous. The nanoware would be more resistant to most chemical attacks than Gallen's own body would. Doubtlessly, with the many human subspecies on Tremonthin, the dronon would have created the Word to be suitable to a broad spectrum of creatures.

  "The nanodocs in Ceravanne's body form an artificial immune system; designed in part to rid the body of excess metals," her mantle whispered, and Maggie considered. It was possible that the nanodocs could-over several days—corrode the Word, but her mantle also whispered that it would take the nanodocs from a liter of Ceravanne's blood three days to have much effect. It was hardly a workable solution.

  Which meant that Maggie had to figure out how to disable the antenna. Her mantle had suggested that metallic salts would stay in the body for only a few days. And she realized \oith a start that this was all the Inhuman would need: it was probably designed to download its information in a matter of hours, then never be used again. In fact, Maggie realized that it probably couldn't be used at long distances after a few days, not if the antenna system were only temporary.

  Her mouth became dry, and she grew more excited.

  Is there a way to get rid of these metallic salts? she wondered.

  "You cannot attempt to deprive him of them," the mantle whispered, "for he needs some to live. But if you feed him small amounts of potassium chloride and large amounts of water, his body should flush out any of these metallic salts quickly, within a few days."

  Beyond that, Maggie could guess what to do. In the daytime, the natural solar activity would help Gallen's mantle block the radio waves. In fact, Maggie suddenly realized why the Inhuman attacked after dark—so that their victims would be converted immediately, instead of having to wait for the night.

  And after dark, it would help if Gallen could get underground, where the Inhuman could not communicate.

  So Maggie realized that she would have to begin flushing the excess salts from Gallen's system. Until that was completed-a task that her mantle suggested would take a week—Maggie would have to do what she could to lower Gallen's susceptibility. They could probably travel during the day, but at night they would have to seek shelter underground.

  And still, given all of that, the Inhuman's Word would still be lying dormant within him. Once Gallen got close to the Inhuman, or close to one of its transmitters, the Word would no longer require a strong signal, and it would be able to overwhelm him.

  "One battle at a time," Maggie told herself. "I must fight one battle at a time."

  At noon, Gallen returned to camp with food—a plump goose, a burlap bag filled with apples, plums, pears, squash, new potatoes, and a pouch of cherry wine.

  Gallen passed the food out, then told the others, "There is a road just south of here, with a farmhouse. The master of the house was good enough to sell us some stores, but no wagon. We're twenty kilometers east of a fair-sized town. I'll buy a wagon there, and drive back to you tonight. Keep your heads low. We've no way of knowing these folks around here, whether their intentions toward us would be foul or fair."

  Maggie watched his eyes as he spoke, and she could detect no change in his features, no change in how he acted toward them. If he'd been seduced by the Inhuman's Word, she could not tell. She could sense no struggle.

  Maggie told Gallen that she would come with him to town. Orick said he also wished he could be off with them, but he looked around camp and decided that his greater duty lay here, to guard Ceravanne and Tallea in case an armed mob came searching for them.

  Maggie was getting ready to leave, eating a brief lunch of plums and raw corn, and Ceravan
ne was caring for Tallea. Orick began plucking the goose with his teeth-a thankless job that he complained would leave down stuck between his teeth for days.

  When Maggie finished eating, she and Gallen climbed the hillsides through the thick woods until they reached a dirt road wending through forests at the foot of the mountains.

  Gallen seemed somber, distracted.

  "Tell me more about what happened last night?" Maggie asked, hoping that he would at least acknowledge that something had changed.

  He said, "It doesn't matter. They were just someone else's memories, someone else's thoughts. I'm over it now."

  He hurried his pace, as if he were angry, and looked about. She could tell that he was still deep in thought, deeply troubled, trying to work things out.

  She told him then of her own studies, and the things that the mantle had revealed, how they would need to travel during the day and go underground at night, how he could reduce his own reception of the Inhuman's signal by drinking heavily to rid his body of any metallic salts that the Word introduced.

  Gallen smiled mirthlessly at that news, and when they passed a small stream, he knelt on all fours and drank to his fill. Afterward, Maggie took his hand as she walked with him, and the sun was shining, and the road was clear, and she felt somehow relieved, hopeful that all would be well.

  Maggie had not known what to expect in Babel. She'd imagined armed encampments, each city a fortress. But as they walked along the din road, past stands of alder, maple, and oak, the hills seemed little different from her home in Tihrglas. The autumn colors were on the trees, and the soil smelled rich.

  And in each little valley that they came to, a few quaint cottages huddled. Most of them were of gray stone with round clay shingles. The hay houses and sheepfolds and dovecotes were made of mud and wattle, with thatched roofs made of reeds.

  Instead of armies, Maggie saw children working beside their parents at cutting wood for the winter or bringing in the com.

  In the afternoon they came to one green valley, where the emerald grass had been cropped short by the sheep, and Maggie stopped and looked out. The maples and alders lit the hillsides with flame. Three houses clustered together on the side of a hill at the foot of the valley, and a small smokehouse was letting its blue smoke rise lazily up. The scent of cooking sausages was strong. And beside the road, where a bridge spanned a clear river, a dozen naked children were swinging from a rope into a wide pool. Some of the little boys had thick red hair, almost fur, that covered most of their bodies, and one little girl had a face that was strangely deformed—with eyes that were unnaturally large, and a heavy brow that jutted over them. The children were screaming and laughing, splashing water at each other, and for a moment, Maggie grasped Gallen's hand, forcing him to stop.

  "Look," she said. And Gallen suddenly became wary, scanning the hillside.

  "No, you muffin, look at those children-this place!"

  "Aye, it's a pretty valley," Gallen admitted.

  "I . . . I think I could be happy here," Maggie whispered.

  Gallen looked at her askance. "Here? But I thought you loved fiddling with gadgets—technology. There's nothing here for you, nothing like that. You'd be splitting logs and butchering pigs just like back home. You—your neighbors wouldn't even be human, damn it, Maggie!"

  "I know," Maggie said quietly. Her sudden change of heart surprised even her, and she remembered the mischievous grin she'd seen upon the Lady Semarritte's face when she'd told Maggie of Tremonthin. Somehow, Semarritte had known that Maggie would like this place.

  "I don't understand," Gallen said. "If you want to live on a backward planet, there are valleys just as pretty as this back home. I know a place near An Cochan. And if it's a stone house you want to live in rather than a housetree, well, one could be built."

  "No," Maggie said. "It wouldn't be the same. On Tihrglas, you can't go to the City of Life to be reborn. On Tihrglas, you're told what you must be. But here—" She suddenly got a glimmer of what it was she really was after, and she waved toward the motley assortment of children. "Here you'd never want for interesting neighbors. They'd be nothing like you, and they'd never try to tell you how you must act or what to wear."

  "You're not making sense, Maggie," Gallen said, shaking his head. But he stared out across the valley, thinking, considering what it would be like, and his voice had held no conviction. "What about the Tekkar, and the other warrior races? You would be scared to step out of your door at night."

  "Och, and who would be so bold as to come threatening the household of Gallen O'Day?" Maggie asked. "I know you, Gallen. You wouldn't mind it a bit, finding some village in the wilds and becoming a sheriff, keeping the peace for those who want it. . . ."

  Gallen said no more. But as they walked on, he eyed the homesteads and hamlets and the fertile valleys keenly, looking beyond the exterior, as if considering the possibilities.

  In the late afternoon, the road became cobblestone and wound down out of the hills to the sea, leading to an oddly shaped granite bluff, where the road led into a vast cave.

  There were a few buildings perched next to the bluff—a sizable stable, some shops, but no houses—and people were going into the cave with wagons filled with wood and produce. Maggie realized with a start that the inhabitants of this city all lived within that monolithic rock.

  She studied the place a bit—some rounded pillars had been carved into the rock, and they thrust up high, carrying a bit of smoke. In other places, holes had been gouged into the roof, giving light and air. In some holes, she could see through to whitened walls.

  As with the temple she'd first noticed back in Northland, this place was built by someone who had no concept of symmetry. Each of the chimneys was a different height, and the windows were each shaped in their own ways. And yet there was a gracefulness, a peaceful organic feel to the structure, that was both comforting and inviting.

  Cormorants and gulls wheeled out over the gray ocean, and the skies were getting dark, promising rain. Maggie and Gallen went down to the city.

  Under the arching entrance, they could see the city before them—a vast cavern filled with people and noise and the smells of smoke and sweat and fish. The rock had been carved away so that long stone staircases led away under great arches. The walls were not only painted white, but crystals had been set in them, casting light back like stars.

  Between the skylights and the guttering lamps on wrought-iron posts placed strategically beside the roads, the caverns sparkled with light.

  Maggie looked up, and along the roads going up the hill were side corridors, where people of a dozen races lived. Children screamed and played in the corridors, and clothing was left along stone walls to dry.

  There was the smell of seawater in the air, and off to the right, a path led to the ocean. There, on broad stones at the sea's edge, sea people swam through an underwater channel, bringing up fresh fish and crabs. Maggie saw a gaggle of hooded merchants who were bartering loudly for the fish, offering brass bracelets and sacks made of fine cloth.

  Directly ahead, just above sea level, a central pillar, like an enormous stalagmite, filled the middle of the complex, and carved at the column's center were several shops and a large pub where a dozen burly giants guzzled mugs of beer at wooden tables. The delicious scent of fish and sausages filled the air.

  As Maggie and Gallen headed toward the pub, a grizzled giant approached. He wore a green tunic over black leather pants, and had a rope tied around his waist. His dark brown hair was tied back, and he wore beads of aqua and cardinal woven into it. His enormous beard spilled down his chest, thinning into a ragged wisp at his belly. It wasn't until he was nearly on them that Maggie realized how truly large he was—eight feet tall, with broad shoulders. He wore a short sword on his hip, but he handled himself like a man who wouldn't need weapons.

  "My name's Fenorah," he grumbled, studying Gallen's sword. "Welcome to Battic, where land kisses the sea."

  "Thank you," Gallen said, lifti
ng his chin high to stare the man in the eye.

  "We're a peaceful town," Fenorah' said, scratching his nose. "I'll be straight with you. You carry a sword, and from the way you wear it, I'd say you know how to do more than split kindling with it. And there's blood on your boots—and I'd rather not know how it got there. But these are my folks, my town. There's peace here."

  He looked deep into Gallen's eyes, as if trying to gauge what lay beneath their cool blue surface. "I appreciate an honest man," Gallen said. "And I admire one who seeks peace. As long as I'm given it, I shall give it in return."

  The giant laughed, slapped him on the back. "You look hungry from the road. I saw how you eyed the pub. May I buy you dinner? We've the finest flounder you'll taste on the coast." Gallen hesitated, but Maggie could sense something in this giant, a lack of guile, that she found refreshing.

  "We would be honored," Maggie said, and the giant took her arm, led them into the pub, where they dined on sea bass roasted in rosemary and a fruity wine. Other giants like Fenorah lumbered around.

  Fenorah talked long and boisterously, asking Gallen's business. When Gallen said that he wanted to purchase a wagon and draft animals, Fenorah called a serving boy and ordered them, as if he'd been ordering dinner, and the boy rushed to fetch them.

  Then, Fenorah took them down to the "docks," the stones where the sea people rose from the dark waters, their tails flashing silver, and there Fenorah talked to Gallen of the city's trade agreements.

  He showed Maggie and Gallen a great cavern where the annual fairs were held, where images of the city's founders were carved in three giant stalactites, so that their beards were hanging shards of stone. Fenorah then took them to the upper chambers above the city, where small swarthy men and women of the Ntak race still carved, singing in high voices as their picks and hammers rang, with each blow extending the city back deeper and deeper into the bones of the earth.

  The giant seemed to Maggie to be enormously proud of his city. He was obviously a man of wealth, a man of worries. And at last when they were in the far upper recesses of a cave, looking back down over a vast stairway of a thousand feet, and the ringing of hammers and picks below them rose like some strange music, Fenorah motioned for Gallen and Maggie to sit on a rock. Then, with a grunt, he knelt down beside them, and stared down into the distance.