by Martha Wells
She started down the deck, still holding the wine glass, checking the alcoves. If someone official popped up, she would look like a wandering party guest and would hopefully avoid any pesky questions. She had been expecting to see an outside gallery, attached to the outer side of the curved glass wall, but there wasn’t one. She was certain she had seen one in the photographs of the airship. It might have been removed at some point during the construction.
Movement in the shadows of the stern stairwell was exciting for a moment until she realized it was Fletcher and Tamith. Reja moved faster, glancing into each alcove, until she drew near the large pillar in the center. It was streaked with white and clear glass, and on a sunny day would fill the deck with the sparkle of a giant chandelier. Tamith stepped out of the last alcove on his side and lifted his arms in exasperated defeat. Reja drew breath to say they would have to search the private areas of the ship. Then Fletcher held up a hand and hissed for silence.
Voices, from above. Reja stepped back and looked up at the top of the glass pillar. She couldn’t see anything but a large square roof plate. No, it wasn’t a roof plate, it was an open gallery, for the voices were surely coming from it. She tossed her wine glass onto one of the padded benches and ran both hands over the glass pillar. She whispered, “There has to be a door!”
Tamith and Fletcher took the other side, joining Reja in frantically searching. Tamith found it, a small catch in the side that faced toward the inner deck wall. He pulled the door open, revealing a set of spiral stairs twisting up through the pillar.
Tamith started up first, thwarting Reja’s attempt to shoulder him aside. She toed her high heels off and followed him, Fletcher behind her.
As they climbed, the voices became clearer, though what they were talking about was still opaque.
“—don’t understand. I can show you the calculations. What you’re trying to do just won’t work—” A man, young, perhaps Challis.
“He won’t listen.” The deeper tone was Baron Mille. Reja had seen him speak at a charity event. He sounded exhausted, perhaps ill. “I’m begging you, Challis, you know what you have to do.”
The third voice was too low to make out the words. It was rough, strained.
Tamith paused just below the last twist of the stairs that would make him visible to the men above. He looked down at Reja, baffled. She shook her head to show she had no idea what they were talking about either. Fletcher, squeezed in beside her, shrugged. Perhaps they were wrong about the portal. But something strange was clearly going on, and Mille and Challis and the other man weren’t standing out on that gallery arguing for their amusement.
Reja flinched at a loud thump from above, directly over her head. Tamith surged forward around the last turn and she ran after him.
She came out onto a platform, a glass bubble sitting above the observation deck, with wide doors meant to slide open and give the occupants the dubious pleasure of being exposed to the wind and elements. Challis and Mille had fallen against those doors, struggling desperately.
Mille was a large man, with broad shoulders and a middle running only a little to fat, and his hair was sparse and gray. She had seen his photograph in the newspapers, but in person he was far more rough-looking than Reja had expected. Challis was smaller and slimmer but younger, his long dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
“Baron, stop!” Reja shouted. The only thing between the two men and a spectacular fall to their death was the catch holding the doors closed. Tamith and Fletcher started forward, then stopped abruptly as Challis staggered back.
A knife protruded from the white of his shirt front, blood already blossoming around it. He met Reja’s startled gaze, his expression shock mixed with horror and desperation. He started to speak, then Mille fell forward, knocking against Challis as he collapsed. Challis stumbled into the wall and went to his knees.
Tamith lunged forward and caught him, and Fletcher went to Mille. Reja spotted an alarm on the inner wall, a small metal box with a red lever inside, meant to summon help if the glass cracked or something else terrible happened. She stepped to it, grabbed the lever, and pulled. A dull gong-like tone began to sound somewhere on the other side of the metal wall, and Reja went to help Tamith try to staunch Challis’s wound.
“Mille’s alive,” Fletcher reported.
Tamith had managed to lay Challis down on the metal floor. Reja winced, seeing that Tamith’s effort would come to naught. When Challis had fallen against the wall, it had jolted the knife inside the already terrible wound. She leaned over him, patting Challis’s face. “Tell us, where are Merita and Rodrign? What happened to them?”
He tried to catch her hand, and gasped, “He said he wants to leave, but he’s lying— He wants— He wants power from—” He made a noise in his throat, then blood-froth bubbled from his lips. His body went limp, and she watched the light fade from his eyes.
Reja muttered, “Damn it! Did you hear what he said?”
Tamith grimaced. “Somebody wanted power from this deity in the portal, that’s obvious.”
But who, Reja thought. The Baron?
“Where’s the other one?” Fletcher asked. “There were three of them up here.”
Reja glanced around, not that there was anywhere to hide. The narrow stairwell they had come up and the doors into empty air were the only exits. We weren’t wrong, she thought. We all heard three voices.
Then Mille’s bodyguards arrived, and Reja was too busy explaining to ask any questions of her own.
***
For a moment there, they were lucky not to be seized by the guards and locked up. But Mille regained consciousness quickly, telling his men, “No, no, they’re my guests. It was Challis who attacked me.”
That was a relief. Instead of locked up awaiting docking and an arrest, they were sitting in a parlor in Mille’s private quarters, while Mille’s servants, personal physician, the airship’s captain, and even the catering manager went back and forth. The guards kept out the curious guests who made money on the side slipping scandal and gossip to the newspapers.
The parlor was an elegant room with gold and white furnishings and no window. As a crewman in uniform passed through, coming out of the inner sanctum, Reja said, “Young man, when are we docking?”
He paused and touched his cap. “I don’t know, madam. Right now we’re holding in place.”
“Really?” Tamith frowned. “Doesn’t the Baron need a hospital?”
“And have the authorities been contacted?” Reja added. Since an attempted murder had just occurred, it seemed the obvious next step.
From the crewman’s hesitation, he found it odd, too. “The Baron said he wanted to continue the party.”
“I see. Thank you.” As he moved away out of earshot, Reja turned to Fletcher and Tamith. “Well?”
Fletcher leaned forward. “Could Mille have some way of knowing that we’ve been following Challis?”
Tamith whispered, “If he did, it’s hardly likely to frighten him. We don’t have any evidence against him.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Reja said. She made an impatient gesture. “Mille and Challis had someone up there with them, and who—or what—ever it is, it’s still on this airship.”
“You think it climbed out that door and got back inside somewhere else while we were all distracted?” Tamith glanced up warily as another secretary-assistant bustled past.
“I could have done it,” Fletcher said. “There are a lot of fay and part-fay who could.”
“I need to get in there to see the Baron.” Reja nodded toward the doorway. “You two go now, wait outside. He won’t let the three of us in if he’s hiding something.”
Tamith and Fletcher exchanged a look. Fletcher said, “He might not let you in either.”
“Then we’ll try something else.” Reja stood decisively, and good manners brought both men to their feet as well.
“If you don’t come out in ten minutes—” Fletcher began.
Reja conce
ded that the precaution was probably wise. “Give me fifteen, and don’t barge in. If I can get him to talk, I don’t want to be interrupted.”
Tamith and Fletcher left reluctantly, and Reja waylaid the next secretary to pass by. She said, “Tell the Baron I wish a few moments of his time, please.”
The man looked uncertain. “The Baron is very—”
“Lucky to be alive, surely. Tell him I saw, and heard, most of the encounter, and I merely wanted to make certain he was well.” It was vague enough to hopefully be worrisome to anyone with a guilty conscience or any secrets to conceal.
The secretary hesitated again, but he didn’t know her and was unsure of her status with the Baron. Clearly deciding to err on the side of caution, he said, “Just a moment,” and headed back toward the office.
After only a moment, he reappeared. “This way, please, madam.”
Reja followed him through a passage, a small foyer, and then into the private office.
The room was full of the light of sunset, with big slanted windows looking out on a breathtaking view of the edge of the city and the harbor beyond it. The heavy glass shield kept Reja’s fear of falling at bay, though she certainly wouldn’t want to lean on it. A rich goldwood sideboard on the far wall held a chrome radio set that looked as if it was meant for more complicated uses than simply playing music. The Baron was on his feet, his head bandaged but clothes still rumpled from his adventure. He said, “Thank you, Wills. Give us some privacy, would you?”
The secretary withdrew. A low cocktail table and several gold armchairs stood nearby, and at the Baron’s gesture, Reja took a seat.
He remained standing, like a man who wanted to pace but didn’t quite dare. He said, “I did want to thank you in person for sounding the alarm. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Reja felt a tight sensation behind her breastbone that had nothing to do with the airship’s movement. It was a combination of trepidation and the thrill of the hunt. He was agitated, suspicious and trying to conceal it. Afraid. What he was afraid of, she had no idea. It wasn’t poor dead Challis, though it might be fear that Mille’s conspiracy with him would be exposed. Reja said, “I am known to the Baroness. She kindly presented me with the invitations for myself and my friends.”
She thought she detected both a trace of relief and a trace of extra wariness in his expression. The Baron said, “You’re a friend of hers, then?”
“She has hired me occasionally.” Reja kept her gaze on his.
The wariness increased. “Something to do with fashion?”
Reja smiled. “I am a private inquiry agent.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Sweat beaded on the Baron’s brow. He said, “And you wish to be paid.”
That settled that. Innocent people sometimes behaved exactly like guilty people for absolutely no reason, but they never offered to pay you to go away. Now Reja just needed to find out what the Baron had done with Merita Mille and Osgood Rodrign. She said, demurely, “That is not necessary.”
The Baron stepped to the desk and sounded hearty and almost undisturbed as he said, “No, it’s my pleasure.” He opened two drawers before he managed to find a check fold.
Reja stood and stepped closer, hoping for a look at the contents of the desk. “I did wonder where the other man was,” she began. “We did hear three voices—”
He was writing the check, and the words and figures were not in a language Reja recognized. But she did know that handwriting. She had studied it in the diner, while waiting for Tamith. It was the second hand on Challis’s documents.
Apparently oblivious to what he was doing, the Baron said, “It was probably a trick of sound. The acoustics are unusual in those glass observation chambers. Someone might have been speaking near a ventilation duct—” He straightened to hand her the check, and froze as he saw her expression. Then he looked down at what he had written, and his face turned horrified.
Reja said quickly, “What has happened to you? Tell me, I may be able to help.” He must be under a spell. Surely the book from Challis’s desk was wrong, it wasn’t possible to be infected with other personalities like a disease. That couldn’t be what was wrong with Mille.
He opened his mouth, tried to speak, but strained, garbled noises came out of his throat. Reja turned toward the door, meaning to shout for help. Movement at the corner of her eye made her duck instinctively and the punch brushed past her braids. She had a heartbeat to decide whether to grab up a chair and hit him or go for the door and scream for help. The chair was too light to take down a man of Mille’s size, so she lunged for the door and shouted at the top of her lungs.
The next blow slammed her into the wall.
She bounced off and hit the floor, stunned. She managed to get her eyes open in time to see Mille lifting the heavy radio set and smashing it against the glass of the window. It shattered and wind swept in, cold and damp. He’s going to jump, Reja thought, still dazed. But Mille held something small and gleaming in his hand. He twisted it back and forth, muttering. Oh hell, he’s not going to jump. He was doing a spell. Reja planted her hands on the floor and pushed, shoved herself to her feet. Just then Mille turned, seized her arm, and dragged her toward the broken window. Reja raked her fingernails across his face and kicked for his groin. He shoved her toward the window and she wrenched at his arm and flung her weight sideways. He staggered and she grabbed for the silver object in his other hand, hoping he would drop her to save it. She knew the plan had backfired when glass scraped her shoulder and she was falling…
Then she wasn’t falling.
The world was dark, and she was floating in it. She couldn’t feel her body, but she could still move it. She made herself turn, surveying this strange place. There was dim light in the distance, glittering off something that might be mountains, or the towers of a dark stone city.
She had fallen through the portal that Challis had been trying to open, obviously. Reja, you are in deep, deep excrement here, she told herself.
Then she heard a voice. Hello, hello, is it someone? I hear—
The voice was reassuringly human and terrified. Hello, Reja said to it. Who are you? And where are we? This is a portal, correct?
Yes, yes. There was a sob of relief. I’m Merita Mille. I’ve been trapped here, days, years, I don’t know how long—
Reja’s impulse to move toward the speaker transformed into motion, and she was aware of bumping into another form, though she still felt nothing. Reja thought of taking the other woman’s hand and holding on tightly, and after a moment she could feel the connection between them. Merita gasped, Who are you?
I’m Reja Flinn, hired by your mother to find you. The light from the distant towers grew brighter, and Reja realized there was something in her free hand. Its silver gleam was somehow visible even though she could still see nothing of her body. She had managed to snatch it away from Mille at the last instant. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. If this was some spell object that only opened the portal from the outside, she might have destroyed Tamith and Fletcher’s only chance to retrieve her. Is Osgood here too?
No, my stepfather killed him. In our penthouse, at the Vermillion Towers. Merita’s words or thoughts or however they were speaking to each other began to flow more rapidly.
Mille killed Osgood and said an alien sorcerer inhabiting his body did it, Reja guessed. The light was brighter and something in it seemed to be moving toward them. Terror would have frozen her spine, if Reja still had one.
Yes, he said the sorcerer was trying to summon some god, or creature, something that would help it get back to its own body. I tried to get away and he pushed me out the window but I fell into here. And then I knew it was true, everything he said…
If Merita had heard the spell Mille—or whatever Mille had inside his body with him—had used, trying to recreate it might be their only chance. Did you see a silver object—Reja started to ask.
Then the first ray of light reached them. Reja saw irid
escent spheres with a dark heart, resting between pillars of stone taller than the highest mountain. It was a gate, too enormous for her mind to comprehend. She thought she heard chanting from some distance, the murmur of voices. On impulse she held up the silver object, hoping it was some sort of key or passport to this terrible place.
The dark heart at the center of the spheres seemed to be asking her what she wanted.
Reja wanted to be back on the airship, with Merita. At the moment, it was the fondest and deepest wish of her heart.
Reja felt pressure around her body and gripped Merita harder. They were rushing, flying, and everything blotted out—
She landed hard on the floor of Mille’s office. A heartbeat later a heavy warm weight landed beside her. Reja pushed herself to her knees, and found herself facing the astonished gazes of several uniformed crewmen, two of Mille’s secretaries, and Mille himself. And, thank all that was holy, Fletcher and Tamith. A young woman, dressed in a skirt and suit jacket, lay sprawled beside her. The young woman pushed herself up and Reja saw it really was Merita, recognizable from the photographs the Baroness had showed her. Merita shouted hoarsely, “He killed Osgood! He tried to kill me!”
The Baron took a step toward them, wild-eyed, and Fletcher stepped in front of him. Mille shouted something incoherent and lunged toward the open window. Fletcher started forward to stop him and Reja, terrified that Mille might pull him into that other place, grabbed him around the leg. Fletcher thumped down onto the carpet and Mille went out the window.
The crewmen and secretaries ran to look. Tamith hurried to Reja and Fletcher. “What the hell happened?” he demanded. “Are you all right?”
Reja told him, “There’s a portal out there, he’s jumped into it.” She realized Merita still had a death grip on her hand. “And perhaps there’s a nurse on board. Miss Mille has been through a terrible situation.”