“I think,” Falkner said, “now that’s it’s loose, I can figure out how to rehang it. It probably won’t be as well hidden, but we won’t need to wrestle it—or leave it open so that just anyone can go in there.”
“Or,” said the Old One, shining one of the Danes’ amazingly bright lights down the newly revealed tunnel, “so that anything can come out.”
* * *
Terrell did not make it back the night following Adara’s return, but Sand Shadow brought him into camp as the next afternoon was shifting into evening. The factotum’s long hair was so soaked the brown looked black. He’d let his usual dark shadow grow into a short, full beard, and his back was bent under a heavy pack.
“You look,” Adara said, “like something the cat dragged in.”
Sand Shadow gave a whistling “whee-ow” of laughter and butted Terrell with her head. Terrell reached down and affectionately slapped the puma on one shoulder, then set down his burden.
“She pretty much did drag me in,” he admitted. “I lost the trail—it’s faint enough at the best of times—in the clouds and if Sand Shadow hadn’t come along to guide me, I’d have had to hunker down and wait for morning. It would have been,” he added thoughtfully, holding his hands over the fire, “a miserable night. I’m chilled to the bone, summer weather or not.”
“Dry off,” Adara suggested, holding out a towel. “Change your clothes. I’ll get you something hot to drink.”
“I don’t suppose,” Terrell said, his brown eyes large and wistful, “you could help me get these wet things off? My fingers are so stiff.”
“Fingers, eh?” Adara chuckled. “Is that all? Kipper, help the factotum. I’ll get him something to warm him up.”
“You could…” Terrell began, but his grin was playful. He did accept Kipper’s help with the fastenings on his shirt, so Adara guessed his complaints hadn’t been completely flirtation.
She put three heavy dollops of honey into Terrell’s tea, giving him the blend Bruin made himself that included sour cherry and a spicy powder made from tiny, fiery chiles. It was good for chasing away colds before they happened and tasted very nice, too.
Bruin lumbered in shortly thereafter. He and Honeychild had been gathering honeycomb, gently smoking the already drowsy bees, before breaking loose chucks of the sticky stuff. After giving Terrell an approving pat, he went to help Adara unpack the supplies.
“No wonder,” he said, lifting a skin of wine, “the pack was so heavy. I’ll be glad for this. I’ve missed my mead and beer.”
“No mead or beer,” Terrell said. “The wine’s the thick, fortified stuff. I figured we could thin it with water and it would be less of a burden to carry. Still, the last bit of the trail, I was regretting the indulgence. Where’s Griffin?”
Kipper jumped to his feet. “I forgot to go fetch him and Ring! Can you do without me, Terrell?”
Terrell winked at him. “I think so. Maybe Adara will take mercy on me if you’re gone.”
The boy laughed and scampered off. Bare-chested but in dry trousers, Terrell returned to tousling his hair dry. His voice emerged somewhat muffled.
“So Griff is back to being overly focused?”
Bruin answered. “He comes out nicely enough for dinner and usually to sleep, but he has to be reminded. By dawn he’s grabbing a mouthful of whatever is left from the night before and gone. I send in food when Ring goes to join him later. Ring makes sure he eats. He’s nearly as determined about that as he is about getting that spavek ready for a trial.”
Terrell shrugged into a shirt and started doing up the buttons. “Astonishing how cold you can get in a cloud, even with midsummer gone by. It’s the wet and no sunlight.” His voice dropped, as if he spoke mostly to himself. “I thought Griff was pushing himself. His dreams…”
He stopped, embarrassed. “Thanks for keeping him fed, Bruin.”
Changing the subject, Adara said, “Any idea what has Ring so fussed about Spirit Bay?”
Terrell looked grave. “Maybe. Let me wait until Griffin and Ring are here, so I can tell it once. It’s waited this long. A little longer won’t matter.”
* * *
After the meal was ended and everyone was sprawled in comfort, Terrell began his tale. “Took me a while to find the right place to hear trader rumors, but when I did, I heard variations on the same story several times. Seems that almost a month ago, something huge fell into Spirit Bay. Whatever hit was so large that waves splashed along the shore, big enough to unsettle some of the smaller craft moored at the docks.”
“Orbital trash?” Griffin suggested. “That’s not unheard of, is it?”
Terrell shook his head. “Not at all. The seegnur left a lot up there and it’s still falling down all these years later. Guess they were messy.”
“The opposite, actually,” Griffin said. “They were very careful with how they set things in orbit, so that orbits took a long time to decay. From what I saw when I took the Howard Carter around, unless something happens to accelerate the process, bits and pieces of ruined satellites and the like are going to be falling for centuries to come.”
“It couldn’t be the Howard Carter that fell, could it?” Bruin asked.
Griffin smiled comfortably. “Not at all. The autopilot will be making corrections for longer than any of us can imagine. No, I’m guessing that this was one of the satellites or maybe a chunk from a space station.”
“Funny thing, that,” Terrell said. “You’d think that bits of anything that big would have washed up but, from what I heard, nothing has. They even sent down some dive pros. They found a lot of stirred-up mud, but no indication of what did the stirring.”
“Might have hit so hard that it buried itself in the floor of the bay,” Griffin suggested. “They’ll find it when the mud settles.”
“Maybe,” Terrell said. He looked over at where Ring rested, seated as usual with his broad back against a tree. Tonight he had a mug of mulled wine resting on his gut and his expression was relaxed, almost content.
“Ring?” Adara said. “Do you have any thoughts about this?”
“What fell did not fall,” Ring said. “It was pushed.”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “Anything else from Spirit Bay?”
Terrell nodded. “Not about what fell into the bay, but the loremasters have decided to hold a formal convocation there to discuss recent happenings and, most specifically, the Old One. I chatted up a local loremaster who was disgruntled at not being chosen to go. She said that outrage is high over the damage to the Sanctum. The Old One can’t be found, and that’s being taken as an admission of guilt.”
“They don’t just think he’s drowned?” Griffin asked.
“No more than you think the sun had died just because there’s a cloudy week,” Terrell said. “You still don’t understand the Old One’s mystique. If the seegnur were to return in all their power and glory, they might find themselves fighting for precedence over him—at least in this region. I’m not sure how far his reputation has spread.”
“So the loremasters are meeting,” Bruin said. He sounded wistful.
“We left Spirit Bay because we thought the Sanctum was likely to be ruled off-limits,” Adara said, “and because we didn’t want to go up against the Old One’s legend. I wonder if he will confront his accusers and what the end result would be.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” Terrell said. “He’s dared far more. I’d wager that if he handled the convocation just right, he’d find himself not only cleared of any accusations of sacrilege, but with a corps of student loremasters assigned to help him get the Sanctum back in order. We’d be cast as villains, then.”
“The Trainers might speak out for us,” Adara objected, “and some others.”
“Yes, they would,” Bruin agreed, “but even if Winnie and other of Lynn’s people came forward to tell their stories, would they be believed? It was hard enough for us to believe the Old One was capable of such things. Under his gaze, who would be
believed? You said many of his men were killed in the flooding. He’d broken many of those women. Could they stand as his accuser, beneath that cool gaze?”
“And would the Old One invite a challenge?” Griffin asked. “He’s far from a fool. He’d know that even if he was cleared, some of the mud would stick.”
Adara stretched. “We need to know more but we’re not going to learn it in Crystalaire—at least not until the news is too old to do us any good. Why don’t Sand Shadow and I go down to my parents’ holding and enlist my family’s help? My brother’s wife, Willowee, has family involved in the river trade. She’s likely to know good sources of reliable news.”
“That’s a fine plan,” Bruin said, and Adara heard his pleasure not only in her tactics, but in her willingness to visit again with her family. “You and Sand Shadow can travel overland. Not only will that be more direct, but you won’t need to risk the roads and chance encountering more bandits.”
“Can I go with her?” Kipper asked, hero worship writ large in his big, brown eyes.
Adara shook her head. “I need you to keep this lot fed. Bruin’s too old to manage without help. Terrell needs to assist Griffin.”
Kipper’s obvious disappointment was mollified by being given responsible work to do. It certainly helped that Adara recognized the contributions he had made to this point.
“I’ll do that, then,” he said, “but don’t you stay away too long.”
Adara smiled. “We won’t. I promise. We won’t stay away a day longer than necessary.”
* * *
Exploration quickly showed that the tunnel behind the hidden door did not merely lead to another room or even to another section of the Sanctum complex.
“It’s an underground road,” Falkner said. “Look at the walls. See the friction marks? I’d bet my thirty-day living allowance that those were made by some sort of passenger capsule.”
“An underground transport corridor would fit in with the Imperial’s model for Artemis,” Alexander said. “The idea was that, except for a quaint village here or there, the planet would be wilderness.”
“But it wasn’t, of course,” the Old One said. “Beneath the primitive surface there were sophisticated workings. I’ve told you about the other complex I found near here—the one that appeared to conceal a hospital among other things I could not decipher, since it had been largely destroyed.”
“I agree that these ‘seegnur’ hid a great deal,” Alexander said. “It’s one thing to talk about going out to wrestle grizzly bears with your bare hands. It’s another to do without modern medicine when the bear takes off your backside.”
Julyan was puzzled. “Couldn’t they just have flown up into the skies? The lore says the seegnur could fly. You have proven it by your arrival here.”
Alexander looked as if he was about to say something condescending, but Siegfried spoke first. “That shows good thinking on your part, Julyan. The fact is, they could fly, even up and beyond the atmosphere, but such flights, especially in the early stages, can be hard on a body. To oversimplify, let me put it this way—the faster the flight, the more demands on the body. If someone was seriously injured, making him fly would be the last thing they’d want.”
“So, hidden hospitals,” Alexander finished, “hidden transportation, probably even hidden means of communication. The risks would still be there, but not as extreme as they might seem.”
Siegfried looked longingly down the corridor. “I wish we had some idea how far that goes—if it even goes anywhere anymore. It’s possible that it’s been collapsed somewhere along the way.”
The Old One had been inspecting a compass. Now he spoke, his voice as deferential as ever, but holding a note of barely suppressed excitement. “If the tunnel runs straight, I have a likely destination point. The next closest prohibited area is Maiden’s Tear—an area so secret that I have no idea what might be hidden there. However, I can tell you two things of interest. When the seegnur were attacked, many fled in the direction of Maiden’s Tear.”
“As if they thought they might find help there,” Siegfried said, his tones holding some of the Old One’s excitement. “And the other point?”
“Given the harm done to me by Adara the Huntress, I have made some effort to learn where she might have gone. One rumor I dismissed as too unlikely for belief places her in the vicinity of Crystalaire. That is the village closest to Maiden’s Tear…”
Julyan had to admire the Old One’s lies. Mostly truth but, even when he could have bragged about how he had anticipated the others’ destination, he kept the intensity of his interest veiled. He wondered if the others were fooled. He thought Siegfried might be. Falkner didn’t think about motivations—he focused on how things worked, not people. Alexander? Julyan wasn’t certain that “Maxwell” had fooled Alexander as completely as he had his brothers. On the other hand, Alexander wanted Griffin for reasons of his own and wasn’t likely to say or do anything that would prevent their meeting. Likely he would accept the surface explanation, while keeping his cynical eye on the developing situation.
“I have some gear on the shuttle that might help us judge if the tunnel remains open,” Falkner said. “Sonar would at least give us an idea how far before the first interruption.”
“Do you think the passenger capsules would have been the sort that filled the tunnel?” Alexander asked.
Falkner inspected the ceilings and floor, then shook his head. “The friction marks are only on the walls. I’m guessing some sort of oval, with clearance above and below in case they had some peculiar cargo they wanted to strap onto the capsule.”
“We have scooters up on the ship,” Siegfried reminded. “If the tunnel seems to be open, we could have Gaius shuttle them down.”
“Could he do so more … gently than your first landing?” the Old One asked diffidently. “I don’t feel any great debt to the people of Spirit Bay, but your initial arrival caused significant disturbance.”
“And,” Siegfried said with a laugh, “you don’t want anyone getting more curious than they must. I think Gaius will be able to slip the craft in more smoothly than I did. For one, he won’t have engines missing on him.”
That was an interesting tidbit, Julyan thought. So, for all their boasting about being well prepared, they have run into difficulties left over from the slaughter of the seegnur and death of machines. Wouldn’t it be lovely if there were still secrets hiding here—secrets that would lead to the death of those machines they so rely upon, secrets that would lead to their deaths?
When the scooters arrived, Julyan couldn’t see how these flimsy things could possibly be a means of transportation. Legends had prepared him for the idea that the seegnur had vehicles that moved without the need of some animal to pull them, but he’d always imagined them as having wheels or runners or something. These reminded him of long-bodied beetles, minus the carapace. Where the beetle’s shell should have been was a central shaft upon which were evenly spaced light wire frames that looked like a torturer’s idealized version of a saddle. His balls ached just looking at them.
Alexander sidled up to Julyan, stroking his backside where the others could not see. “Aren’t they fine? Gaius and Falkner designed them together. The scooters can carry up to three apiece, but we’ll go in pairs. I do hope you’ll share one with me. I’m sure Siegfried will want Maxwell available to advise. That dumb child can ride behind Falkner.”
“As you wish,” Julyan said, hoping against hope that Siegfried would decide he needed Julyan’s muscle. However, as had happened so often over the last few days, he found his skills rated as negligible. He might as well be a savage with a club. Oddly, Julyan could almost love Alexander by contrast—at least he didn’t discount Julyan entirely.
Falkner interpreted Julyan’s fixed gaze as an attempt to understand how the scooters worked. “They push against the pull of the planet,” he explained, almost kindly. “You don’t need to worry that they’ll fall, because their power source is sealed in that cen
tral shaft and it’s made of material similar to that door we moved.”
“I’m not worried,” Julyan assured him. “I was wondering if maybe I should stay here, guard the Sanctum in case anyone comes poking around.”
Falkner reached into one of his belt pouches and came out with something the size of a large clam. “This and a few of its friends will be our guard. I pity the one who challenges them.”
Julyan shrugged, looked at the Old One, but any hope he had that his employer would suggest he stay behind was squashed by that deceptively mild gaze.
“Enough chat,” Siegfried said impatiently. “We’ve restocked our supplies. Let’s load up and get moving. Keep alert for anything that strikes you as odd. I can’t believe the Old Imperials only left a door to keep out intruders, not if what’s at the other end is of any interest at all.”
“And I feel sure there is something of interest,” the Old One said softly, mounting the second seat on Siegfried’s scooter as if it were a horse’s saddle. “Somehow, I feel certain that there is.”
Interlude: Standing Without Feet
Vanished,
Again they have.
I will plant stars in the earth.
Ring bells in the mold.
Launch spores into air,
upon water.
They made me.
If I am not unmade to be,
I must remake
Myself into Me.
11
Blue Activation
The morning after Terrell’s return, Griffin arrived in Leto’s complex to find Ring stark naked, clearly about to step into the blue spavek where it hung in its squire. Earlier inspection had shown that the garments typically worn by the Artemesians were too bulky to fit inside the armor. Griffin also suspected that heavy garments might block interfaces between suit and operator. Leto’s specs showed operators either naked or wearing form-fitting body suits. It was difficult to tell which—one of those cases when the person designing the art had not bothered with details “everyone” understood.
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