Gradient

by Anders Cahill

  I kept moving in. Dozens of people ran past me, away from the carnage. I let them go. A man lay on the ground ahead.

  It was Desh.

  His shirt was torn in a dozen places. I knelt and put two fingers to his throat. There was a faint pulse. “Desh,” I said. “Deshanyo, it’s Orenpausha. Can you hear me?”

  His eyes fluttered open. He saw me and smiled. “I was wrong.”

  “Desh, don’t talk. You’re badly injured. We need to get you out of here.”

  “No. My father was right. It’s not too late.”

  “Too late for what, Desh?”

  He looked past me, up at the sky. I touched his throat again.

  He was gone.

  As I stood, there was another flash of light. I ducked, bracing for another explosion, but there was no sound. Something moved at the edge of my sight, and I whipped my head around.

  A troupe of dancers whirled past me. Their silken robes glimmered like tongues of fire. I shook my head, blinking my eyes. The vision was gone.

  There was another flash of light, and a crowd of revelers were gathered around me. Hundreds of people. Drinking. Singing. Laughing. An effigy of a man towered over the festivities. It was already burning, fire climbing its sides. It swiveled its head towards me. Fire poured from its eyes. It lifted its arm and pointed right at me. The crowd went silent. Everyone was staring at me.

  Fear surged through me. I turned and started running. I could feel them, just behind me. I tripped and fell. I rolled over, throwing up my hands, lashing out. But no one was there. I was alone again, the whole crowd gone.

  I came to edge of the crater. The smoke was thinning out, but it still billowed around me. The cloying smell was stronger here, emanating from the pit. I repressed the urge to retch, and leaned forward to peer down into the blackness.

  Something was moving down there.

  “Hello?” I said. “Who’s there?”

  There was the scrunch of footsteps in the dirt behind me. I turned, and a man emerged from the smoke and haze.

  “Xander! Thank the Scions!”

  He smiled. “He has come back,” he said.

  “What-?”

  He shoved me into the pit.

  30 Wake Up

  The sound of metal shattering ripped me awake. My pulse jittered, and my head was pounding. I heard running footsteps in the corridor outside my chambers. I slipped out of bed and crept over to the door, putting my ear against it.

  There was a loud knock on the door. I leapt back, surprised. I took a deep breath, then opened it wide.

  A man stood there. He was short and wiry, but his robe bumped out at his stomach, like he had a pot belly, or he was concealing something underneath. His hair was thinning, and he was familiar to me, but I could not place him.

  “Humble apologies, oh great magus,” he said. “Magus Xander asked me to wake you. But it seems you are already up.” He spoke with deference, but there was something false in his tone.

  “What time is it?” I said.

  “It is almost sunrise.”

  “Early, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, magus.” He dipped his head. “As I mentioned, magus Xander sent me.” His eyes skirted past me, into the room. “I am not sure he realized you were… occupied.”

  “Sleeping does tend to occupy a fair amount of time,” I said, snapping at him.

  He looked at the floor.

  I took a deep breath. “Forgive me. I do not mean to chastise you. Something fell earlier, like a pile of bronze discs crashing to the ground. It startled me awake. Left me on edge.”

  “That was the sound of the bell. One of the ovates knocked it off its pedestal.”

  “The bell?”

  He gave me a strange look. “Yes, magus. The calling bell. It withstood the fall, if that has you worried.” His face was stern, concerned.

  I blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I feel… I do not feel well. When did Xander return?”

  “Return, magus?”

  “He was…” I squinted my eyes. “Nevermind. Tell me why he sent you.”

  “He did not say, magus. It seemed urgent. But if you need more rest, I can ask him to wait.”

  “No. I’m fine. I was having a… strange dream. Tell him I’ll be there as soon as possible. I just need a little time to bring myself back to the land of the living.”

  He nodded and gave me a thin smile. He glanced past me into the room one more time, then he turned on his heels and marched off.

  I stood and stretched, reaching my arms up toward the ceiling. My whole body felt sore, and my head was still throbbing. I walked into the washroom, where the small basin was filled with clear, cool water. I reached down, cupping my hands, and splashed water on my face. I watched myself in the mirror as rivulets ran down my cheeks and chin, following the contours of my face.

  I tilted my head up, examining my visage from different angles. I was tired, but my skin looked healthy. I don’t look as bad as I feel, I thought. That gave me a measure of satisfaction. I gave my cheeks a firm pat with my fingers.

  A flicker of movement in the mirror caught my eye. I spun around. I did not see anyone. I poked my head into the main bedroom.

  Nothing.

  “Hmm,” I grunted.

  I walked over to my wardrobe. My selection of robes and garments had grown larger than I remembered. As more and more people poured into the city, we ‘magi’ could no longer avoid the singular burdens that came with our unique position in this new world. We could only do our best to play our roles well, to honor the primal need every human being has for symbols and systems to organize life and provide frameworks for understanding. Socha and the retinue of retainers that answered to him helped us look the part when we needed it. Someone must have stocked my wardrobe with fresh robes and trappings.

  I selected a green robe, accented with gold. The fabric felt good on my skin. I admired the threadwork, smoothing the sleeves and front with my hands.

  Once I was dressed, a sudden thirst opened in me, a desperate need, as if I had not had a drink in days. A decanter half-full with blood-dark fluid rested on my bedside table. I recognized the drink, but my memory was clouded. I struggled to grasp the word, just out of reach.

  Kaffa. The fog of my mind cleared as the name came to me. Adjet and Xander had brought the fermented herbal drink to us from their time among the Kkadie. Even before Cordar had worked extensively to refine the brew, it was already a potent restorative tonic. But he had figured out how to extract and distill the nutrients from the roots of the herb, enhancing its positive benefits of calm energy and mental clarity, and diminishing the agitating side effects.

  Kaffa had become wildly popular in Manderlas, taking hold in daily morning routines and social gatherings. Tea rooms cropped up across the city. There was even a thoroughfare in the city the people had dubbed Kaffalan, with rows of brewers and hawkers selling their specialty blends. The mainland farmers have been working hard to meet the demand, I thought to myself, ruminating on the way our hungers and desires shape our world.

  I filled a large glass with the kaffa, and took a long pull. The tepid liquid coated my throat and when it reached my belly, there was a pleasant warmth. A moment later, I was revitalized. Totally awake.

  I stepped out to my balcony, glowing with the pleasure of the drink. The main bulk of the ziggurat was just below my tower, and beyond it, the rooftops and minarets of the city of Manderlas ranged out to the ocean, majestic and ordered and peaceful. A salt breeze dusted my face and quivered in my hair. I inhaled through my nose, breathing in the tang of the sea.

  “This view captivates me every time,” a woman said from behind me.

  I whipped around.

  Adjet was standing in my room.

  She was naked.

  Her muscles were lean and toned, and her pale skin was covered in a fine latticework of dark green and black markings, like the scales of a snake. They curled and twisted up her abdomen, arou
nd her breasts, up to her shoulders and neck, and down her arms and legs. Her face, hands, and feet were the only parts of her that were unmarked by these tattoos.

  “If only our friends and elders in the Fellowship could see us now,” she said. “If only they could see what we’ve built.”

  I stared, mute, unable even to stammer.

  She gave me an impish smile. “We drank too much last night,” she said, taking my hand. “But then, we have so much to celebrate, don’t we?”

  The touch of her hand. The finery of the markings on her skin. The knowing intimacy of her voice. It stirred something deep and exciting and confusing. A frisson of arousal flowered in me. I blushed.

  She laughed, a warm, musical lilt. “You don’t remember, do you?” she said.

  “I… No. I don’t. Last night, we… were together?”

  She nodded. “Clearly, I need to work harder. I’ll make certain you remember this time.” She pressed close to me.

  “Adjet… I’m not sure-”

  “You seemed quite sure last night, after the celebrations.”

  “The celebrations?”

  “The new year, Oren! I know the barley ale is strong, but truly?”

  I faked a laugh. My memory was a swirl. Everything both familiar and unreal. I wanted to tell her that something was wrong, but some instinct held me back.

  “Are… what are these?” I asked, tracing one of the markings on her arm. The clouds fogging my memories were denser now, a gravitational force, swallowing the pieces of light in my mind.

  She laughed again, touching her hands to her flat belly. She looked up at me with a wide smile, her teeth gleaming like a predator. Her lips were stained red with kaffa. “Each one is a gift. Don’t you like them?”

  “A gift?”

  She stood up on her toes and kissed me. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. She pushed me to the floor of the balcony, lifting up my robe, straddling on top of me. I was powerless beneath her rhythm. The world faded around us.

  * * *

  When I woke again, Adjet was gone. My headache was back, worse now, hammering behind my eyes. I felt as if I could drink the whole ocean. I groaned, squinting against the light. The sun was high in the sky. It had been hours since that man had come to summon me on behalf of Xander. I cleaned myself up, donning a fresh robe. Then I took another pull of kaffa, emptying the decanter of fiery liquid down my throat. I felt the same burst of energy, the same revitalization.

  I’ll need to get more of that, I thought, eyeing the empty flagon.

  There was a plate of dates and almonds with a jar of honey sitting next to the flagon. I lifted the jar and took a deep whiff. The nectar smelled amazing, flowers and citrus and pollen. I drizzled some over a date and popped it into my mouth.

  It tasted of sludge and rot.

  I retched, spitting out the food, wiping my lips with my hands. “In the names of the Scions,” I muttered. “That is foul.”

  I left my room and made my way through the maze of corridors towards our private council chambers. When I reached the entrance, I touched my fingers to the camouflaged sensor, and the hidden seam revealed itself as the door slid open. The lighting in the room was a hushed yellow. The monitors were all dark.

  “Xan?” I said.

  The low cycle hum of electric current was the only answer. The taste of blight still lingered in my mouth.

  As I walked further into the room, I saw that one of the consoles was actually on. I walked over to it. Three words, written in the wedge-shaped cuneiform of the native alphabet shone like grains of rice on the black screen. I had studied the native language, but I was no expert like Neka or Cordar.

  It took me a few moments to work out what it said. “Find the center,” I whispered aloud.

  I pressed the input keys at random, trying to trigger a response, but nothing happened. The words remained. I scratched my chest, unsure of what else to try.

  I looked down at the console screen again. The words were different:

  “What in the names?” I said under my breath. I was frustrated and my headache was getting worse. I left our private council chambers, puzzled by the senseless words, and walked back out into the corridors.

  A bell sounded in the distance. I let my ear guide me towards the sound, counting each ringing tone as I walked. After nine rings, it went silent.

  I came to the library. The room stretched away from me. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with scrolls and hand-bound books. A trio of ovates were seated at a long table, copying a set of ancient texts by hand. I watched them for a moment, taking pleasure in the simplicity of their work, the depth of their devotion.

  Someone touched my hand.

  I looked down, jerking away in surprise. A strange, beautiful creature stood next to me, not much taller than a child. But it was like no human I’d ever seen. It wore no clothing, and its skin was formed from innumerable scales of amber and gold, so tiny as to appear seamless until I looked long enough. Its golden eyes were huge, twice as big as a human’s, and a shade darker than its skin. It wore no clothing, and its body was sexless, no visible sign of genitalia or nipples, smooth as polished metal.

  It beckoned me closer. I crouched down, coming eye level with it. It reached its tiny, rippling hand up and touched the spot between my eyes. My headache cleared. An image flashed before me. Our ship, Reacher, safely hidden away beneath the city.

  When the image passed, I was alone again. One of the ovates was looking at me. I met his eyes. He did not look away. He was staring. A brazen breach of conduct. I was about to say something, but my head started pounding again. Whatever castigation I had planned to give him caught in my throat. His gaze was unnerving. Instead, I found myself hurrying past the table where he was seated, moving towards the other end of the library.

  I came into a corridor that I did not recognize. Have I never come this way? I thought. It was possible. The city had grown so large, and the ziggurat was expansive. But it was disorienting, and my stomach twinged with anxiety. I picked a direction at random, heading away from the library as quickly as I could.

  I glanced behind me, but the hallway was empty. I passed a window that had a view outside. I saw the bulk of Lanthas Mountain, solid and imposing, and that relaxed me a little. I spotted a winding trail of lights moving up the base of the mountain, as if a group of people were hiking up the mountain, carrying torches in a single file line.

  Then I heard a door open behind me. I started walking again, without looking back, afraid for no reason I could explain. As I hurried forward, I passed a stairwell that led down. I paused, then turned around and went back to the top of the stairs, staring down the well to the place where the stairs curved out of sight. I am looking for a way to get down to the ship, I realized. That was what that creature was trying to show me.

  Footsteps sounded behind me. Whoever had opened the door a moment ago was getting closer. I hesitated for one more moment, wavering, then set off down the stairs like a shot, taking them two at a time.

  The stairs went on for ages, spiraling down. I finally reached a landing, and I stopped running, my chest heaving as I worked to catch my breath. I felt silly now, running away from people. My people, I thought. I laughed. It was easy to forget that this was home now.

  A scattering of light orbs hovered up at the ceiling, casting just enough light for me to see by. I wanted to grab one, to carry it with me as a portable light, but the stairway was cavernous, and I could not reach that high.

  Once my breathing leveled out, I noticed a door on the landing. It was made from dark wood, almost black, and burnished until it gleamed like metal in the light. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

  I gave up and continued on, walking now. I passed several more doors on my way down. All of them were made from a different kind of wood. Some of them were etched with runes and pictographs that I did not recognize. Others were polished smooth like the first. They were all locked.

 
As I went further, there were fewer lights. Eventually, there were none. The steps became more uneven too, morphing from the precise spacing at the top to rough, misshapen plates of stone. I had to keep my hand to the wall, and explore with my feet to make sure that I did not tumble.

  I don’t know how long I walked. My headache settled into a dull thrumming behind my eyes, and my thirst came back even stronger than before. The image of the decanter of kaffa back in my room tantalized me. I could almost taste it, and my mouth watered with the craving. But the world up above seemed like a distant dream. All I could do was keep moving. I entered a kind of fugue state, forgetting where I was, where I was hoping to go, taking one step, then the next, and the next.

  Then my right foot stepped forward and kicked something, shocking me awake. I reached forward with my hands, and felt the rough grain of unfinished wood. Another door. I felt around for a handle, but I could not find it. After exploring more with my hands and feet, it was clear I was at a dead end. If I did not find a way through this door, I would have to turn back.

  The thought of climbing back up those stairs brought me to the edge of panic. I pounded on the wood with my palm, and the hollow thump sounded huge in the darkness and quiet. “Is there anyone there?” I shouted. “Please! Open up!”

  I dropped to my knees, my forehead resting against the door. “Please,” I whispered.

  Something slid open. I lifted my head and opened my eyes. I could see. Light! A small window had opened near the top of the door. I laughed again, leaning against the door as I stood, bringing my eyes to the window.

  Adjet looked back at me.

  * * *

  She was maybe ten feet away, and her eyes were right on mine, but she did not say or do anything to acknowledge my presence.

  “Adjet!” I called out to her, lifting my hand.

  She blinked and said nothing.

  Something came in from my right, obscuring my view for a moment. When the view cleared, I realized that it was a person moving towards her. That was who she had been looking at. She could not see or hear me.