by Pearl North
“A coincidence, Haly?” asked Burke.
“It could be.” She knew she sounded defensive. “Consider how many books we’re surrounded by, here. I mean, no one has ever come to the bottom of the Libyrinth. It keeps going down and down, and eventually, you have to turn around. For all we know, there are an infinite number of books. Therefore, every possible combination of letters and words could be represented by a book somewhere in the Libyrinth. This could just be … one permutation, with no real meaning at all.”
“But you didn’t find this book in the Libyrinth,” said Hepsebah. “You found it beside the last Ancient.”
“Maybe she liked it because it was similar to our world. It could be as simple as—”
“Haly! There you are.” Gyneth stood in the doorway, breathing hard, his cheeks red. “I want to show you something.”
Haly was ashamed that her first thought was, what now? She forced a smile and permitted Gyneth to take her hand and lead her away from her argument with Burke and Hepsebah.
Gyneth took her down the spiral staircase in the center of the Great Hall, the one that led to the face at the bottom of the Libyrinth where Gyneth had installed the Egg on Redemption Day.
Selene and Peliac followed them.
He stood before the face that held the Egg and said, “Play.”
The mouth opened.
Gyneth grinned.
“It—did you do that just now?”
“Yeah. The whole Libyrinth system is set up to be operated by voice commands. But you need to know what the right words are. I’ve been examining the circuitry and I figured out that it can do much more than just retrieve books.”
“Like what?” said Peliac, rather challengingly, Haly thought.
But Gyneth was only mildly daunted. “I’m not sure, exactly, but for instance, I think the P-L-A-Y command recites the book.”
“Really.”
“Yes. Reads it aloud. But I’m not sure where the speakers are. I mean this, down here. This is operating system stuff. Upstairs at the console is the user interface. But I haven’t found anything that might emit sound, unless it’s just the audio output for the command console and they used it for everything.”
Haly leaned over the parted lips of the face. She reached out and traced her fingertips over the smooth, curving metal. It felt warm. “For whom text is song,” she murmured. She peered between the parted lips. “There’s something in there.”
“Teeth?” said Peliac.
It wasn’t teeth. “It’s a little metal shelf.”
Gyneth peered inside. “It looks like it’s designed to hold a book. One thing I’ve noticed about ancient technology is that they can be peculiarly literal. Maybe that’s where you put the book you want recited.”
“Better not try it until you’re sure,” said Peliac. “You don’t really know what it does.”
For once Haly agreed with her. Gyneth looked a bit disappointed, but said, “I’ll keep investigating the circuitry until we know for sure.”
* * *
The next day, Haly was at the main console when Clauda came up to her. “What do you think about Gyneth’s discoveries about the operating system?”
“You’ve heard about that?” Of course she had. Everybody had. The news had fanned the flames of speculation and now the theories were becoming wilder by the minute. “I don’t know what to think about it. We don’t know enough yet.”
“But the lips opened at the command ‘play.’ Surely that must mean something.”
“Not necessarily,” said Haly. “It probably just means that it will recite a book placed in there.”
“But if you’re so certain, why won’t you let Gyneth test it?” asked Vinnais.
“It’s not a question of me ‘letting’ Gyneth do anything. All of us present at the time agreed it was best not to take any chances until we know exactly what it does.”
“But if all it does is recite the book, what’s the harm?”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“So you think it might do more?”
“I’ve been wondering about that myself,” said Gyneth, coming up from the hatch in the center of the Great Hall. “I’ve just been examining the circuitry, and I don’t think it recites the book in the mouth at all. There’s a lot of connections leading from that book holder down, not out into areas where you’d expect to find speakers but down so far I had to give up and turn around.
“I don’t think ‘play’ means ‘read aloud,’” said Gyneth.
She stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Just that it means something else. Maybe … maybe ‘play’ means ‘enact.’ Maybe the reason Belrea, Yammon, and Iscarion are named in the paperback Book of the Night is that they were in the paperback Book of the Night. They were … characters.”
“No!” she was furious with him for saying that. “What a horrible thing to even suggest!”
Gyneth seemed confused. “But … we have to examine every possibility, and when it comes to the People Who Walk Sideways in Time, well, what weren’t they capable of?”
“And just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s true. Circuitry isn’t everything. This book is an Old Earth novel that obviously influenced the people living here many generations ago. I think it’s worth considering that sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct explanation. Iscarion, Yammon, and Belrea named themselves and the plain after the people and places in this book and Iscarion changed his name to Theselaides and titled his account of the overthrow of the Ancients after his favorite novel,” said Haly. “Revolutionaries and activists throughout time have been influenced by great works of literature.”
“But surely it’s worth considering if—”
“No! Consider? Consider that we aren’t real? That this whole world is just a … a construct? That we’re just … some kind of … program? I won’t. I don’t see how any good can come of such an idea.”
“It’s just an idea, Haly. Since when are you afraid of those?”
She knew he was right, but her horror of what they might discover overwhelmed her reason. “I can’t talk about this. I won’t.” She turned away, pretending not to see the hurt and confusion in his eyes. Or the unease and disappointment in the eyes of so many others.
15
To the Rescue
Po paced the sitting area of his chamber. His heart pounded out the seconds in slow motion. He didn’t know how, but Thela knew he’d been controlling her with his kinesiology. He was certain of it. That was why she’d summoned Ymin Ykobos to examine her. Had the adept discovered his work yet? It was only a matter of time.
What would Thela do when the truth was confirmed? With every breath he expected to be transformed into a goat, or to lose his arms and legs and mouth, as he had before. Or to simply cease to exist altogether.
But nothing happened. Thela’s revenge was inevitable. Doubtless, she wanted to be present to witness whatever it was she intended doing to him. Worst of all was the knowledge that he had failed. She would wield the pen with abandon now, and the whole world would become her plaything as surely as if she were an Ancient herself.
Through the archway to his exercise yard came a sound. Po went and looked out into the night garden. It was empty. But then it came again. A rustling, as of something moving through the undergrowth on the other side of the wall facing the ocean.
“Stay out of the weeds,” someone whispered.
“If I get any farther from the wall I’m going to wind up at the bottom of this cliff,” said someone else.
“Shh!”
As the voices registered, Po’s heart seemed to stop. He ran to the wall and peered through the latticework. “Jan? Baris?” he whispered.
“Po.” He knew that whisper, too. The moonlight gleamed in Hilloa’s dark hair. “Oh, thank the Tales, you’re still alive.”
Terror filled him. Behind Hilloa, Baris and Jan smiled and clapped each other on the back. “See? I told you it would work,” said
Baris.
“You all have to get out of here, right now,” said Po. “Run!”
“No way,” said Hilloa. “Not without you.”
“We came to rescue you, Po,” said Jan, as if explaining something that should be obvious. He grabbed the crevices in the bricks and started to climb.
“No, I mean it. Leave. Now.”
They didn’t listen to him. In a heartbeat, all three of them had scaled the wall and stood in the garden. Hilloa embraced him. For one brief moment he let himself sink into her softness. He breathed deeply, drinking in her smell of honeysuckle, sea spray, and sweat. Other hands clapped him on the back and gripped his shoulders.
“Poacher,” said Jan. “Are you okay?”
Po tore himself from Hilloa’s arms. He stepped back from all of them and forced himself to look mad. It wasn’t easy. It was pure joy to see them—joy, and terror. “Your timing couldn’t be worse,” he said. “I’ve been preventing Thela from using the pen—”
“See, I told you guys,” said Hilloa.
“But now she knows. She’s … she’s going to…” He shook. He was on the verge of bursting into tears in front of them, again. Only this time it was for a good reason. “You have to get out of here, she can’t find you here. She’s coming. Go! Please.”
All three shook their heads. Hilloa said, “If she knows you’ve interfered—was it kinesiology? Did you use your kinesiology to—”
“You’re in danger, too. More than we are,” said Jan.
“You’ll just make it worse for me if she finds you here. And she’s using the pen now. She can do anything she wants.”
“Then come with us.” Hilloa grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
“I can’t,” he said. It was true. He could let Hilloa drag him to the wall, he could climb it and sit on top, but he could no more climb down the other side than sprout wings and fly over it.
“She’s controlling you,” said Hilloa.
He couldn’t answer.
The sound of a door opening came to them from inside his chamber. Po couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.
“Well,” said Thela, standing in the archway to the yard.
His three friends rushed her at once. Thela looked at him. Po tackled Baris. They fell to the ground. The impact blew Baris’s breath in Po’s face. Mother. What had he been eating?
Po pulled his fist back. Baris stared at him, mouth open. “What?”
“What are you doing?” yelled Jan. He grabbed Po’s cocked elbow with one hand and wrapped an arm underneath Po’s other arm. He’d grown in the past few months. He managed to lever Po up off of Baris a bit.
Po kneed Baris in the most accessible place. “Fuck!” screamed Baris. “What is wrong with you!”
“She’s controlling him,” said Jan.
“It’s the pen!” cried Hilloa. Po couldn’t see her, but her voice sounded strained. It came from the direction of the archway.
Po shook Jan off. He pivoted and swung his fist into Jan’s jaw as hard as possible. Shit! Jan flew back and landed on his back in the grass.
Hilloa and Thela played tug-of-war with the pen. “Give it to me!” said Hilloa.
Thela pulled back and looked over Hilloa’s head, straight at Po. “You know what will make me happy.”
No. No.
The grass was cool and slick beneath his feet as he took the five strides needed to come up behind Hilloa and wrap an arm around her neck.
“No fucking way!” cried Jan. And then Baris hurtled into Po, pushing both of them into Thela.
Thela kicked Hilloa and wrested the pen from her. She backed into the room. “Make me happy, Po.”
He tightened his arm around Hilloa’s neck. She gasped. “What? Why? Oh!” And then she didn’t have the air to speak anymore.
“Fucker!” screamed Baris, punching Po in the side of the head.
Pain exploded across Po’s skull and the next thing he knew, Hilloa had twisted around to face him. “She’s controlling you, Po.”
“I know!”
Jan came in low, hitting Po behind the knees with his shoulder. Po flew forward. Hilloa reached out to catch him and Baris tried to block her. They all went down in a heap upon the threshold and for a moment everything was a tangle of arms and legs.
When Po managed to free his head from Hilloa’s armpit and look up at Thela, the words she’d written already hovered in midair. “The three people tangled with Po on the floor of his chambers in the Ilysian Palace are gone.”
Before he could draw breath, the words shimmered and disappeared, along with his friends. Gone. Po slumped to the floor without Baris’s bulk propping him up. He sat up and reached out through the empty air where Hilloa had been a moment before. He turned to where Jan had been lying across his leg. Gone, all of them.
He was alone with his queen.
Thela held tight to the pen and watched him from the other side of the room. “Your accomplishments as an adept go beyond those of any of your colleagues.” The look in her eyes was steely, remote. “You deceived me, Po.”
Po shook his head.
“Don’t bore me by trying to deny it. Adept Ykobos herself said she’d never seen an energy working like the one you did on me. All to keep me from using this.” She lifted the pen. “Of course it’s my fault. I was too subtle by far, writing that you would only do what makes me happy. I thought I was protected, but it turns out that what I want, and what may, in the end, make me happy, are not at all the same thing.
“Still, it was sweet of you to try to mend my broken heart, even if it did nearly lose me my kingdom. That’s how I figured it out, you know.
“When I found myself eating sand in the ring, about to lose my throne and possibly my life, I realized something was wrong. I never would have allowed things to reach that point when I had the pen at my disposal. I would have written Plata out of existence weeks ago—unless something, or someone, had prevented me. And who has been there day and night, always eager to give me a treatment, to rub my feat and soothe me with his remarkable kinesthetic abilities? Oh, Po. What am I going to do with you?”
He didn’t answer her.
“You are such a unique creature. A male adept of such power … To simply kill you seems wasteful. But I must prevent you from causing any more trouble, and you need to learn a lesson.”
She paused, tapping the pen against her chin. “I know.” She lifted the pen and wrote, “Po takes his right index finger in his left hand.”
Dread filled him. Po tried not to, but just as he’d been unable to keep from choking Hilloa, just as trying to take the pen from Thela by force was unthinkable even now, he grasped his right index finger.
“Po bends his right index finger back against the joint until it breaks,” she wrote; the words, glowing, hung in the air between them.
Po started bending his finger backward. “Stop,” he said, not sure if he was saying that to himself, or to her. “Please! No!”
Still, he bent it back, despite the pain, despite everything. His mind exploded in the wet snap of his finger breaking. When his vision cleared, he was on the floor and his finger was a wet throb of heat and pain. He looked up at Thela, tears on his cheeks. She lifted the pen again. “Po takes his right middle finger in his left hand,” she wrote.
16
Thela’s World
Selene sat up and rubbed the grit of sleep from her eyes. She felt as if she’d awakened from much more than a single night’s sleep. She’d awakened from a lifetime of wrong thinking. She never should have been jealous of the time her mother spent caring for Ilysies and training her heir, Jolaz. How childish of her. She should have been grateful for what time her mother could spare her. And she should have dedicated her own time to finding ways to make Queen Thela’s job easier, instead of running away to the Libyrinth. “Oh,” she said, under her breath, looking out the window at the lightening sky. “Oh.”
Selene took a deep breath. The cool morning air clea
nsed her of the errors of the past. She pulled her hair back from her face and looked down at Clauda, who stirred in the bed.
Clauda blinked and yawned. She pushed herself up and shook her head. “Suck a goat,” she said. “I’ve got to give Queen Thela her wing back.”
“Yes.” Pleasure at the thought of Thela’s reaction to that warmed Selene. “You must. I’ll help you. We’ll do it together.”
They rode out with a team from the Libyrinth to the woods where Clauda had crashed. With all those people, plus block and tackle, it was the matter of an afternoon to unearth the wing and free it from the trees. They rested for the night and in the morning, Selene climbed into the chamber and Clauda entered the statue, and they headed home.
* * *
“The Libyrinth is gratefully under the rule of Ilysies.”
“The Corvariate Citadel is an Ilysian city.”
“The Plain of Ayor grows crops of barley as lush as those in the Ilysian Valley.”
Line by line, day by day, Thela changed the world. It pleased her to keep Po near, and since he was groggy on Ease as often as not, that meant she conducted most of her business from his bower.
He awoke to find her stroking the side of his face. He tried to pull away but his body was leaden with Ease. His hands felt like two loaves of bread, hot from the oven and studded with glass.
Thela took in his reaction and gave him a sad smile. “You cannot lie to me anymore,” she said. “I fixed all that.”
He actually found that a comfort. If he was bound to tell the truth, he had to know the truth, and that meant that his mind, his feelings, were his own at last.
“So tell me, do you believe that I love you?”
His stomach turned. “Yes.” Mother. So much for a sense of relief. He wondered at himself. After all she had done to him, how could he believe she loved him? Well, maybe it’s what she thinks love is.