“Aren’t you going to — ?”
“In my own time!” Garney whispered fiercely. He then rose to his feet, beamed up at his disinterested ruler, and plucked Seagryn by the sleeve to lead him around the throne. Three great arches opened onto three corridors, each large enough to be termed avenues. Garney pulled Seagryn swiftly down one of these, waiting until they were well out of earshot of the king and his guards to mutter, “I told you to let me do all the speaking!”
“I was answering a questi —”
“It is imperative that you not address the king directly! You might — upset him.”
So that was it, Seagryn realized. Garney didn’t intend to tell the king about the dragon at all.
In his days as a student, Seagryn had read extensively about the history of the One Land. In that ancient time, the royal palace — by all accounts the largest building ever constructed and never completely finished — had eventually stretched from the center of the pass to this mountain and then had backed up against it. Long before the breakup into the Fragments, the advisors to the royal family had commissioned the excavation of a system of tunnels. These had been intended to remain a secret, but a project of such magnitude could not be concealed from a curious populace forever, and tales of a vast underground land began to circulate. It was a fairyland, some returning workmen reported — a utopia under the mountain where only the ruler and a certain number of his chosen would be permitted to dwell. The rumors became so pervasive that, to save the royal family embarrassment, the king’s advisors had attempted to match them with reality. Large sums of the national treasury were devoted to that end, while growing needs on the outer edges of the One Land were ignored.
Still, there never seemed to be quite enough money to do all that the royal engineers suggested was really necessary to do the job right. More funds were required, so taxes were raised, and while people in the far north prayed for divine intervention, merchants in the south founded a thriving black market and fomented rebellion. When the royal advisors began to realize the seriousness of the discontent, the excavation project became even more important. The king’s military strategists pointed out the difficulty of defending the capital city from attack, since the site had been selected centuries before precisely for its accessibility. The palace was too soft and sprawling to be protected from attack and, besides, it was almost deserted. The royal family preferred to spend its time Inside. To the fascination of the whole world, an enormous drape was stitched, a huge patchwork quilt that took the seamstresses of the capital decades to stitch together. The resulting shortages of textile materials launched the fortunes of a great many trading houses, and the difficulty of finding a qualified tailor stimulated the growth of several southern cities, the current Haranamous among them.
At last the patchwork was finished, and at enormous cost in both wealth and lives it was draped across the side of the mountain and over that part of the palace that adjoined it. For half a century the rumors only continued to grow, until a great storm swept through the Middle Mountains and tore the well-weathered veil away, revealing the demolition of a huge chunk of the palace and, in its place, the Outer Portal. The people were shocked. They’d expected much more for their sacrifice — all that expense and all that secrecy just to build this? Their disappointment with the royal family exploded into warfare against one another. The differences of opinion that had already fragmented the society internally now found expression through armies committed to competing ideals. The One Land broke apart. But since the king was Inside, he never noticed that it had happened. None of his advisors bothered to tell him. They’d never told his offspring either …
“You don’t intend to tell him at all, do you?”
“That’s none of your concern,” Garney told Seagryn as they reached an intersection and turned left. The arched ceilings of each of these avenues had been lined with shiny, yellow ceramic tile, so they were far better lit and much more cheerful than the throne room had been. They wouldn’t remain cheerful for long …
“There’s a dragon outside his door, but if he looked out to see it he might notice that his kingdom is gone. Is that it?”
Garney halted abruptly and spun around to face him. “It is not your affair!”
“It is my affair! If that dragon remains in the Central Gate for very long, it’ll starve everyone in these caves to death, myself included!”
“These are not caves,” Garney corrected firmly. “This is the Court of the One Land, and you are a guest in it. I cannot emphasize this point strongly enough — we are in control.”
“Oh, really?” Seagryn mocked.
“I’m on my way to a meeting of the crisis management team, where together we will prepare some response to the beast’s presence. Or did you think that we knew nothing about it until your intrusion? We called the meeting this morning at the first sight of the dragon!”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Seagryn said, encouraged at last. “I can quickly fill you in on where the beast has been and the way it —”
“You can? You will not be there. You will be here —” Garney swung open a door to a well-furnished — if windowless — apartment, “ — eating, and then resting.”
“Eating?” Seagryn said, more pleading in his voice than he would have liked. Garney pushed him inside, and he found there was indeed a table, already spread with a delicious-looking feast.
“You’ll see,” Garney explained with a touch of unexpected patience, “that we have far more provisions stored Inside than you might expect. We have always been prepared for a siege — always. And you may rest assured that we know far better than you do how to manage our internal affairs. Please eat until you’re satisfied, then rest. Your performance is not scheduled until this evening.”
“My performance?”
“Your magic act,” Garney said. “For the Children’s Club.”
“But I’m no —”
“You’ll think of something. But do not, please, turn yourself into that awful-smelling animal! This is an enclosed space, and we find offensive odors very difficult to dispel!”
Seagryn eyed the food hungrily, but something concerned him. He glanced at the door and realized that it could only be locked from the outside. “Am I a prisoner?” he asked flatly.
Garney pinched the bridge of his nose and snorted in frustration. He then raised his hands in a gesture that seemed to plead for understanding. “How are we to make a prisoner of a wizard? I’ve just asked you not to become that stinking beast! Why would I then encourage you to do exactly that by foolishly attempting to lock you in?” Garney sighed, then stepped to the doorway. “You’re free to wander where you choose, but I warn you — don’t get lost. And if you think that would be difficult, think again. I was born Inside, and yet that is my deepest fear …” Garney’s gaze seemed to focus elsewhere. Seagryn guessed he was either remembering nightmares or scolding himself for being so self-revealing. Suddenly his eyes snapped back into this room and to Seagryn’s face. “Until later,” he said, then he left, closing the door behind him.
Seagryn stepped to it and listened but didn’t hear the lock turn. Instead he heard the little man’s heels clicking officiously as he stalked away. Seagryn wasted no more time getting to the table.
Much later — and much fuller — he arose and stumbled gratefully toward the large bed in the next room. He’d not slept in a bed since he’d left his home. As he tumbled across this one, home was where his thoughts turned. How was Elaryl? Had she forgiven him? What was she thinking about right now?
Suddenly it seemed he stood beside her, within her father’s house. She sat on a sun-porch surrounded by beautiful flowering plants. But while Seagryn was entranced by their glory, Elaryl didn’t seem to be aware of them at all. Her jaw was set, her brow creased with worry, and her mind was obviously miles away. Searching for his?
“Elaryl,” he said, and she gasped and sat up. She stared right at him, but her startled expression didn’t fade. Instead it seemed t
o deepen toward genuine fear. “Elaryl, it’s me.”
“It’s — it’s you? Seagryn, are you — you look so — thin —”
He smiled. “I’m afraid I’ve not been eating well lately —”
“No, I mean — like thin air! Like — a ghost!” The blood drained from her face, which made him sad. “You’re not dead — are you?” She asked this with both hope and resignation, as if the two feelings had been warring inside her for many days.
“I’m not dead.”
“Where are you?” she gasped, standing up and trying to reach out for him. He reached for her, too, but his hands passed right through her.
“I’m — I’m not there, obviously. I’m Inside —”
“Inside the dragon!” she gasped.
“No! No.” He chuckled. “Inside what we’ve always called the Remnant. The dragon is out in the Central Gate. I’ve been flying around on it for the last week.”
“I know,” she said quietly, her eyes lidding protectively. “I watched you fly over.”
“You did?” he asked brightly, but she didn’t brighten in response.
“When are you coming home?” she asked flatly.
“When — when it’s — all done.”
Elaryl nodded, and he saw in her eyes that hope had just surrendered, and resignation had conquered at last. “Very well.”
“But I’ll be back!”
She nodded again but looked away. He watched her, grateful that this was only a dream. After a moment she murmured, “Father left today. Naturally, he wouldn’t tell me where he was going, but I know it was to one of those secret meetings.” She looked at him. “Is it being held there, where you are? Is he going to run into the dragon on the way?”
Seagryn struggled to make sense of her question. He was so tired! Then he remembered the conversation he’d overheard between Garney and Wilker. “No. No, the Conspiracy is meeting elsewhere. I don’t know where, exactly, but it’s not here. And he should be safe — from the dragon, at least. I expect Vicia-Heinox to linger in the Central Gate until something is done to drive it away.”
“He’s safe,” she murmured. “But you’re not.” She looked back at him, then squinted her eyes. “You’re fading.”
“I am?” Seagryn looked at his hands — and realized he had no hands. When he glanced back up, Elaryl’s eyes had left his and settled absently on a yellow fern.
“I’ve talked to the Power, Seagryn, ever since you left. I think —” Her voice caught, and her eyes clouded over before she could finish. “I think I may be the only one who is. Everyone hates you, my father included, and I — I don’t know — what to think.” She looked back at him and sniffed. “I don’t trust you, Seagryn. I’m sorry, but I don’t.” As the sadness filled him again, she looked back down at the table and folded her hands across her lap. “But I trust that One Whose Name Once Went Unspoken. If anything good can come from this insanity, the Power will bring it about.”
“Elaryl,” he said, but she didn’t look at him, and then it seemed as if she slipped away from him, or, rather, he from her. It seemed as if he slid backward down an endless hallway, and it grew dark around him as she receded into a single point of light …
Then he awoke. He sat up and blinked his eyes, then rubbed them, and fell backward across the bed again. A dream. A very real and lifelike dream. Wishful thinking — he’d wanted so much to see her. “But then,” he muttered, sitting back up again, “all of my shaping is wishful thinking, …”
He’d slept enough. And somewhere in this sunless land a meeting was taking place, a meeting he ought to be a party to. Seagryn jumped off the bed and a moment later was out into the bright yellow corridor. Having no idea which way he needed to go, he picked a direction and started walking. Before long, he had passed through two intersecting avenues and approached a widening of the corridor. A moment later he stood on the edge of a far larger cavern than the throne room, filled to its distant, dark ceiling with structures — roofed structures, which probably hadn’t needed re-roofing since the day they were built. This, incredibly, was a village. He stepped into the first shop.
A moment later Seagryn stumbled back out of it, his face bright red. He’d walked into a spa of some kind, a huge room filled with mineral baths and nude bathers. In his youth, he’d been told of the terrible decadence of the Remnant. Whether this was decadent or not, Seagryn had to admit that he was unaccustomed to such a level of sophistication.
He walked more cautiously through another door and discovered an expensive-looking clothing shop, staffed — to his great relief — by fully dressed clerks. He was at first surprised to note they wore the blue and red colors of the House of Paumer, then realized he shouldn’t be. Paumer’s colors showed up everywhere in the old One Land, underscoring the merchant’s worldwide influence. He approached a clerk, who smiled at him brightly. “Pardon me, but could you direct me to the center of government?”
“The what?” The young lady frowned.
“Where are the offices of the Remnant — where government meetings take place?”
She still frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Seagryn tried again. “Where would I find the primary advisors to the king?”
The young woman chewed on her lip and gazed reflectively over his head. A moment later she looked back down at him, her face expressing clearly her own puzzlement. “You could try the library …”
“The library?”
“I’ve never actually been inside it myself, but maybe they could help you. It’s right down there by the —” and she swept into a series of directions that sounded like the solution to a maze, with left turns, right turns, stairways, ramps, and cautions that left him thoroughly confused. All this was accompanied by much smiling and gesturing, and ended with, “Have you got it?”
“I think so,” Seagryn lied with a smile. He stepped slowly out of the shop with a new appreciation of Garney’s warning not to get lost. He started retracing his steps, fearful now that he might not be able to find his way back to his assigned apartment. The yellow corridors all looked the same to him. and he couldn’t recall, now, how many intersections he’d passed through to arrive at this cavern. Fear suddenly clutched at his stomach — with no sun to point the way, how could he ever find his bearings if he did prove to be lost? Was there a map room somewhere?
He wandered anxiously down the hall, carefully examining the walls on either side for some familiar distinguishing mark. He found none, and his anxiety grew. Once he was missed, would Garney send out a search party to find him? He felt no better when he arrived at what he thought was his own corridor, turned down it, and discovered that it opened onto another high-ceilinged cavern containing an even larger cluster of roofed dwellings, most of these three and four stories tall. There was no question about it. He was lost. He stepped into a shop and looked at a young male clerk, who eyed him curiously. “I’m a visiting magician from the outside. Could you get me to the Children’s Club?”
Chapter Six: SOVEREIGN’S SOLUTION
WHEN Seagryn beheld the Children’s Club for the first time, he at last had some idea why those who lived within the Remnant could not conceive of life anywhere else. The largest cavern he had visited so far contained enough amusements to keep a child — or an adult, for that matter — entertained for weeks. The dark ceiling high overhead reminded him of a moonless summer evening, lit from below by a lively little city. A small lake filled the center of the cavern. Lights from the far shore sparkled across its surface as sailboats glided along on top of it, evidently propelled by drafts blowing from the many arching corridors that opened onto all sides of the cave. A sandy beach circled the lake, and everywhere he looked lovers strolled hand in hand. Row upon row of lamplit avenues climbed away from the lake, with the highest ring of shops backing up to the cavern wall. Children of all ages ran in and out of these shops and fun houses, shouting and laughing so gleefully that, for a moment, Seagryn disapproved. What time of the day was it? Why weren’t the
se children in school? Then he caught himself and wondered if he was jealous. His own upbringing had been harsh — textured by the dust of the farmlands and the hard faces of the Western District peasants. Sunlight there had sharply divided day from night, and a child could only wring free time from the demanding schedule by working faster or by shirking responsibilities. In this timeless place there were no fields to be plowed nor herds to be tended. What were children to do apart from amusing themselves?
What was the king to do? Seagryn thought he could understand, now, why the man had looked so bored this afternoon. Or had it been morning? Was it evening now? Who could tell? He wondered without enthusiasm when his magic act was scheduled, but more important now was where this was to take place. He asked his helpful guide, and the young clerk pointed to a series of larger buildings on the tar side of the lake, surrounded by torchlit, columned walkways. “You see the one with the dome? That’s the library. The performance center is the building to its left.”
The library! The girl in the dress shop had suggested he might find the answers to his questions there. The youth smiled expectantly and turned his palm up. Seagryn grabbed it and shook it vigorously. He then walked briskly away, fully understanding the young man’s look of disgust but making a point of ignoring it. In Lamath, you helped people for free. Besides, he had no idea what they used for money in this place.
He struck off quickly around the lake, pleased that he’d found the library after all and pleased to be experiencing this beautiful cavern. It would be a shame for all of this to be destroyed — the builders of the Remnant had created the perfect illusion of a summer’s evening. He longed to have Elaryl walking beside him.
The library dome loomed high above him long before he reached it, and he saw it was much bigger than it had appeared from the far side of the lake. He was finding it difficult to get a proper perspective on things Inside. The closer he got, the more crowded the avenue became, and he expected to have to struggle against the press, once he got within the library’s halls. Instead, he found the place deserted, except for one surprised old gentleman who turned to meet him as he walked through the door. “Why are you here?” the old man demanded.
The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2) Page 8