He tried to believe what Lily had said—that he had no choice, that without his emotions he literally hadn’t been able to care about anything. But that didn’t comfort him at all. He’d led Snutworth here. He’d given him this power. It was all his fault.
He felt violated. He’d already tried to take out his frustration on their guards, but the guardians were strong, and they were quick to swat him back into the cave, with looks of disgust at having to touch him to do so. He already had a nasty swelling on his forehead from when they had sent him sprawling.
He seized the leg of the chair, weighing it for balance. There was no other furniture in the cave, but this seemed sturdy.
“Maybe if I crept up on them…” he began.
“You might be able to knock them out,” Lily completed. “Then what? Snutworth controls this entire land!”
“Great! Just great…” Mark growled, flinging the leg to the floor. “Then what do you suggest we do?”
“Maybe take a moment to think?” Lily suggested, sourly.
“You think there’s something we overlooked?” Mark asked, sarcastically. “Have you noticed who we’re sharing a cell with?”
He pointed over to the other side of the cave.
The former Oracle sat on the floor, her knees drawn up under her chin. Down from her throne, away from the mysterious light of her chamber, her dress no longer sparkled. It looked heavy and awkward, like her limbs. Her eyes were focused on something far away.
“We’re in prison with the fount of all knowledge,” he said, a little more calmly. “And somehow, I still feel as though this chair leg is going to be more use.”
“She won’t help,” Lily said, her voice cracking. “She doesn’t know how.”
Mark felt a stab of guilt. Because of the power of the newly returned emotions washing around inside him, he hadn’t had a chance to stop and think what all of this was doing to Lily. That was her mother, sitting there. They were alone at last, and neither of them was talking. What was the matter with him? The least he could do was comfort Lily.
But instead, he felt another burst of anger exploding through him, and clenched his fist. He wondered if Snutworth had given him back all of his emotions. He still felt a little odd. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and pulled out the glass vials that he had picked up off the floor. Most of them were empty, but there was one that still contained a drop or two of deep blue liquid. Midnight blue. Well, that was appropriate.
“I’m sorry, Mark,” Lily continued, half to herself. “I didn’t want to help him, but I couldn’t see you like that.” She looked over at the Oracle, her eyes narrowing. “I couldn’t see you empty, like her.” Lily rose to her feet, angrily, still looking at her mother. “Why won’t you just give us something?” she said. “You sat on that throne for years. Is there nothing you heard, nothing that can turn the Naruvians against him?”
“Nothing,” the Oracle replied, at last. Without the echoes, her voice was feeble. “He has invoked the rights of the Charter. We live and die by its laws.”
Mark turned the last vial over in his hand, thinking.
“But what happens now?” Lily insisted, kneeling down to look her mother in the eye. “What happens after the Day of Judgment?”
The Oracle’s face didn’t move at all.
“Nothing,” she said. “The last commands are to obey the Judges’ vessel. The experiment is ended. We have served our purpose.”
Lily’s lip trembled, but her eyes were full of cold disdain.
“Then what was all your knowledge for?” she asked. “What good will it do in his hands? Is this really what the Librans pictured? A man who’s only desire is to play with the lives of others? Is that the final result of their great project?” She pulled her face into a sarcastic grimace. “I think something might have gone wrong.”
The Oracle stared at her. For a second, Mark thought he saw something. A tiny twitch in her face—of anger, or regret. But then it was gone, and all she did was to nod.
“So be it,” she said.
Lily turned away, her arms wrapped tight around her. Mark approached the older woman, but Lily caught his arm.
“Don’t bother, Mark,” Lily said, tightly, on the verge of tears. “She’s never going to help us.”
Mark looked at the Oracle. The vial in his hand sparkled.
“Perhaps she just needs a little motivation,” he said, an idea occurring to him.
Mark kneeled down in front of the Oracle. She focused her gaze on him.
“What are you going to…?” she asked. She didn’t reach the end of the question.
In one sudden movement, Mark grasped her chin, readied the vial, and tipped the last drop of his emotion onto her tongue. It evaporated with a hiss, the thick blue steam rising, and flowing down into her mouth.
Lily stared.
“Mark?” she gasped. “What did you do? You needed that!”
“I’ve taken most of it back,” Mark said, trying to sound more certain than he was. “I don’t feel any different. A drop or two of regret isn’t going to matter to me—I’ve got plenty.” He watched. Very slowly, the Oracle’s shoulders were beginning to shake, and her eyes were filling with tears. He nodded with satisfaction. “The question is, Oracle, can you say the same?”
The Oracle opened her mouth, but she seemed to be struggling to find her voice. She grasped at him, her hands clenching uncontrollably.
“What … did you … you … I…?”
Her voice dissolved into a moan, and then a wail. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her body convulsed. Horrified, Mark grabbed hold of her, trying to stop her from bashing her head, and Lily dropped back to the ground to help.
“I didn’t mean to do it!” Mark shouted, over the sound of her wails. “I just thought … a tiny bit of regret might help her see things our way. That was barely a quarter of a normal dose, it shouldn’t be doing this to her…”
“Do you have any idea how long she’s been keeping those emotions suppressed?” Lily shot back. Mark swallowed.
“No,” he admitted.
“Neither do I,” Lily replied. “But she didn’t remember me, so that must be sixteen years at least…”
“I wanted to remember you.”
Lily and Mark stared down. The Oracle struggled to speak, her voice choking with sobs.
“I didn’t want to give you up,” she stammered. “But I had to. I was to be Oracle, the greatest honor a Gisethi can be given. It must always be a Gisethi, you see—Naruvians don’t have the understanding, and Agorans would try to use secrets for their own advantage, but an Oracle must be clear-sighted, impartial,… cold.” She clung to Lily. “To be Oracle, you must leave behind everything that is you, lest the Nightmare use it to turn the echoes deadly. Even the Canticle itself hides any echo of ourselves from us. You cannot sit and record a million broken dreams and spoiled lives if any of them matter to you. You can’t remain on your throne forever if you’ve known what it is to live.” She clutched at Lily’s hair, a faint smile breaking through the tears. “Such beautiful hair, even when you were born. I remember that now. But I’d already been chosen. Thomas wanted me to stay after you were born, at least for a few days, but I had a duty … my duty … oh stars and heavens forgive me…”
The Oracle clung to Lily, her sobs growing louder. Mark stepped back, scuffing at the floor. He wished he was elsewhere. This was private; he didn’t belong here. Instead, he stood by, awkwardly, as the sobs died down.
“Thank you, Mark,” the Oracle said, her voice still shuddering. Mark turned back. The Oracle was looking at him with real warmth for the first time. “I thought I should say it, while I still could.” Her voice began to change in tone. She grasped at Lily’s face, turning it toward her. “I feel this false emotion leaving me. If there is anything you want to ask the woman I was, anything you need from Helen d’Annain, you must be quick.”
Lily stared back; she opened her mouth, but no sound came out. And then, swallowing
hard, she asked her question.
“Did you ever love me?”
The Oracle bowed her head.
“Not enough, Lily. Not enough to forego my great duty.” She looked up at her daughter, letting fresh tears trace shining lines down her face. “Not until now.”
Lily held her mother then, not speaking. Held her as the last of the warmth drained from her face. By the time Lily got up again, brushing down her dress, her mother was once again vacant—a cold and perfect shell.
She walked over to Mark, and he squeezed her hand.
“Look, Lily…” he began, but she shook her head.
“It isn’t the time to talk about this,” she said, softly. “Right now, we need to stop Snutworth, and the Oracle’s just told us how to do that.”
Mark frowned.
“Really?” he asked. Lily nodded, her eyes flashing.
“Snutworth is on the Resonant Throne now, but he hasn’t forgotten his past life. Oracles are supposed to forget.”
“But that just makes him all the more dangerous,” Mark began, but Lily cut him off.
“Exactly! You remember what happened when I found out who she really was,” Lily said, gesturing to the crumpled form of the Oracle. “How the whole cavern shook because she felt something in those memories? Well, just imagine how Snutworth is feeling. He’s been wanting this his whole life.”
Mark began to see what she was getting at, and felt a prickle of excitement down the back of his neck.
“You mean, if he gets carried away, the Canticle will go wild?”
“I barely touched the surface of the Canticle, and I nearly lost myself,” Lily continued. Mark could almost see the cogs in her mind turning. “Just think about it, all those millions of thoughts, even he can’t keep track of everything. Not if he’s trying to keep hold of his own mind.”
“Snutworth’s never really cared about anything in his life. Do you really think he’ll start now?”
“Maybe not,” Lily pondered. “But perhaps we can spread a little confusion, see if we can get all those thoughts to overwhelm him, to break his control. And if not, well…” she picked up the chair leg. “Two against one, right?”
Mark frowned.
“But won’t he already know what we’re planning? I mean, if he can hear every word spoken…”
“What if he does?” Lily said, firmly. “Even if he’s bothering to listen to us, do you think he’ll really care? He doesn’t think we can do anything to hurt him now.”
“But how are we even going to get to him?” Mark pointed to the thick curtain covering the cave entrance. “The guardians are out there, remember?”
Lily pondered for a moment. Her eyes drifted down to the figure who sat on the floor, staring into space. A strange look passed over her features. It was almost mischievous.
“Maybe I can call in a little family assistance after all…”
* * *
Mark and Lily ran down the tunnel. Behind them, they could still hear the shrieks of the guardians.
Mark still couldn’t quite believe that Lily had pushed her own mother into the guards’ arms. The Oracle hadn’t resisted; she barely seemed to have the will to move under her own power anymore, but she stumbled just far enough to startle the guardians. And the second the guards were distracted, Lily tore the protective covering from their faces, and Mark spat on them.
He felt like an animal, but it had done the trick. The guardians were more accustomed to contact than ordinary Naruvians, but they had still scrabbled at their faces as though they were being burned by acid. Now, the guardians were chasing after them, but the network of tunnels in this area was complex, and their shouts soon disappeared into the distance.
“If we live to tell people about this, maybe we’ll leave out the escape,” Mark gasped as they ran. “It wasn’t particularly heroic, was it?”
“This isn’t the time for heroics,” Lily replied, breathing hard. “I think the Oracle’s throne room is this way…”
They plunged down another tunnel, this one only sparsely lit. The light from the crystals set into the wall seemed weak and sickly, and the farther they went, the darker it got. They passed Naruvians, huddling along the edges of the tunnels, staring at the fading crystals with horror, but they didn’t have time to stop and ask questions. They didn’t need to slow down to know that something was wrong.
And then, without any warning, they were in the right tunnel. Mark recognized the steps cut into the floor—they were nearly at the Oracle’s chamber. He also noticed that there were no guards posted. That was odd. Surely Snutworth wouldn’t leave himself defenseless? But he pushed that thought away. They had to keep going, keep racing on, because if they stopped to think, they would have time to realize that they had no plan, no real way of knowing what awaited them.
Ahead, the tunnel opened up into the antechamber. The curtain was partly drawn aside, the odd, flickering light from beyond illuminating the room. Lily came to a sudden halt, and Mark nearly fell over her. They exchanged glances. All they could hear were their own ragged breaths. Mark swallowed. This was it.
He tried to think of something encouraging to say as he met Lily’s eye. She shrugged. She knew there was nothing that could be said.
“Well now.” The voice of Snutworth penetrated the curtain, and echoed around the antechamber. “What a pleasure. Please, do, come in.”
Almost unconsciously, Mark and Lily linked hands. And then, together, they pushed aside the curtain, and walked into the chamber of the Resonant Throne.
* * *
The cavern was different, somehow. It was still impressive, the long walkway of rock, extending out over the jagged forest of crystal shards far below, each one glinting and sparkling in the half-light. But when the Oracle had been here, the atmosphere had been thick and mystical—the Canticle of Whispers had filled the room, and the air itself had swirled with possibility. Now, the air was still, cold, and clear. And the Canticle no longer floated everywhere at once, but seemed to beckon, to draw them forward to the center of the chamber, and the figure on the throne.
Snutworth sat back, watching them. He was alone, but entirely at ease. His dark coat, traced with gold, flowed over the stone chair, making him look like some rare and precious ore. Above him the vast, tapering crystal, the base of the Hub, was almost drained of light. Only intermittent pulses flickered across its surface, making the shadows in the room shift. But somehow, Snutworth’s eyes were still visible—bright green sparks in the darkness.
As Mark’s eyes began to adjust to the dim light, he noticed that the walkway had changed too. Up until it nearly reached the throne, it was the same as ever, a spar of rock, extending over the jagged crystals at the base of the cave, the one safe path forward. But then, abruptly, the rock crumbled away, leaving a chasm twenty feet wide, and much deeper down. And on the other side of the drop, Snutworth looked back. Even now, trapped on an island of rock, he sat with calm assurance, one hand resting lightly on the arm of the throne, the other extended in welcome.
“Now, this is an interesting situation,” he said, quietly, his voice echoing through the chamber. “I had wondered whether you would simply run back to Agora. I think you would have been much happier if you had. The whispers have brought me all sorts of news. Even as I speak, the Directory is falling, your friends Mr. Owain and Sister Elespeth have been restored to their former selves, and … yes, Lady Astrea is handing over her power—my reign as Director is over.” He smiled. “Which is terribly convenient, I must say. It saves me the bother of resigning and installing my own puppet ruler for the city. People are so much easier to control if they believe they are free.”
“Control?” Lily shouted back, scornfully. Mark could tell that she was frightened, but trying to mask it, and he too tried to show no fear.
“Please, Miss Lilith, do not trouble to shout,” Snutworth said, gently. “I assure you, I can hear every word.”
“How are you going to rule from here?” Lily continued, walking
forward until she reached the edge of the broken causeway. “You’re trapped.”
Snutworth nodded.
“A small precaution. Everyone here is loyal, to a point, but the echoes brought me news of your escape plan, and I could not take the risk that you two would find your way here while I was alone. I always enjoy a little conversation, but you are young, and might have been able to physically overpower me. So, therefore, a few large mining hammers were called into use.” He gestured to the broken causeway. “A somewhat crude solution, I grant, but serviceable. I have some rope to assist my exit, when necessary, but for the moment I am quite prepared to wait. At least until the guardians think to disobey my orders and come looking for you here.” He tilted his head to one side, slightly, listening to the whispers as they washed around him. “Yes, already they’ve discovered that you haven’t taken the mine carts back to the Last’s Descent. It won’t be long before they work out where you would go. And this time, I think I will instruct them to execute you. Wolfram will see to the actual blow, of course—I think spilling blood might render a Naruvian entirely useless. Don’t you agree?”
Mark frowned. Why was he no longer looking at them?
Mark moved instinctively. He didn’t even see Wolfram coming, though he felt a rush in the air. The old monk lunged, but Mark fell to the ground, rolling away. He shouted a warning to Lily, but she moved just a little too slowly. By the time Mark found his feet, she was struggling in Wolfram’s grasp. Now Mark could see the dark corner by the entrance where Wolfram had waited, cowled and hidden. They must have passed right by him.
“Wolfram,” Snutworth said, casually, “would you kindly put Miss Lilith in some danger?”
Wolfram spun, knocking Lily’s feet from under her with a sweep of his leg, and produced Snutworth’s cane—or rather, the blade that had been hidden inside. He held it to her throat.
“Thank you,” Snutworth said, amiably. “Now please, Mr. Mark, do not approach Father Wolfram, or Miss Lilith will be dispatched.”
Mark stopped in his tracks. Something was strange here. The blade was still steady enough, but beneath the cowled hood, Mark could see that the monk’s lips were tight and bloodless.
The Canticle of Whispers Page 32