by Ryk E. Spoor
Kyri felt herself blushing, but hoped that her own much darker skin hid it. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re absolutely perfect. I wish I looked half as good.”
“Can I tell you that you’re being ridiculous?”
The two of them shared a laugh. “All right, look,” said Kyri, “if you don’t want to just look like we’re grim warriors without any other interests—”
“Then you just keep doing what you’re doing, Phoenix and Light Miri!” said Grithu, the weaponsmith who owned the shop. “A less grim and more fair pair of warriors I have yet to lay eyes upon.”
“I think it’s really the ‘warrior’ bit we were worrying over,” Miri said. “But it may be that I’m just silly. Are you actually getting anything here?”
“Probably not,” admitted Kyri.
“Alas, I would think not as well,” Grithu said, tucking a strand of brown hair back under the band of cloth that kept it tied back while he worked. “I thank you for the privilege of examining your sword, Phoenix, and I confess that I cannot imagine you ever needing another weapon. If this and your armor is typical of the work of this Spiritsmith, I can but stand in awe and dream that I might one day be a tenth, no, a hundredth of the smith that he is.”
Kyri laughed. “Thank you, Grithu. You’re very good, you know; if you live as long as he has, you may well gain the same skill.”
“Practice does perfect one, yes,” Grithu agreed, then bowed and waved as they left.
“Well, I like my new fighting knives, even if I mostly don’t use weapons,” Miri said, spinning them expertly about in a complex flow of cuts. “But I’m hungry. I wouldn’t expect Tobimar and Poplock to be back down for a bit, so why don’t we get something to eat?”
“I certainly don’t mind,” Kyri said. She felt a bit left out at the moment, but tried not to show it.
But once they’d seated themselves at a table in the open-air dining square, Miri caught her gaze. “He should have let you come.”
Kyri looked down. “Am I that easy to read?”
“As Hiriista would say, it’s a matter of observation. You were suddenly a lot more quiet after I mentioned Tobimar, and you kept glancing back at the Tower whenever you thought I wasn’t looking. It’s obvious you’re thinking about him.”
“I guess it is.” She took a bite of the ourta (a thick steak cut from a large fish in the lake, heavily seasoned) and swallowed. “He didn’t stop me from coming. It’s not like he has the authority to do that even if he wanted to, right?”
“He made it clear he wanted to ascend to the Great Light himself. Yet he took the Toad.” Miri’s lips tightened, and Kyri realized she was actually angry at Tobimar.
That realization suddenly relaxed the tension in Kyri’s stomach. Impulsively she grabbed Miri’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Miri.”
“For what?”
“Being angry for me, so I could see whether that was what I wanted to feel.”
“And . . . is it?”
She shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think so. You didn’t hear our discussion before, but . . . if we’re right, what’s at the top of that tower is the most holy relic not just of your country, but of his—of his own religion, of Terian, the Light in the Darkness, the Infinite, himself. Climbing that tower’s a pilgrimage for him, I think.”
“But he took Poplock with him.” The tone was still resentful, defending her against the wrongdoings of her friend, and Kyri laughed.
“Oh, Miri, it’s okay.”
Miri looked up, surprised. “But—”
“Really. Oh, I love Tobimar. And he loves me, to my astonishment. But Poplock and Tobimar traveled a lot longer together, and I think in some ways they’ll always be a lot closer than he and I will. Poplock’s able to be there without being . . . intrusive, when he wants to be. Hard for me to just fade into the background.” I’m not going to mention the fact that he’s also there just in case there’s a trap waiting.
Miri looked at her wonderingly for so long that Kyri felt her cheeks heating up again. “You really mean that,” she said finally. “You were annoyed but now you’re not.”
“Oh, I’m still a little. Mainly because I really do want to see the Great Light up close, and I have to wait.”
Miri smiled and shook her head. “Well, I hope he appreciates this. And I mean really appreciates you.”
Kyri felt there was too much praise floating around for her to feel comfortable with, so she looked up and around. “So, if we’re not going to be warriors, what do you do when you’re not patrolling?”
“Um . . .” Miri looked embarrassed. “I, well, study the reports that have come in to see if there’s other things I need to do. And I exercise, and I check up on things around the tower, and . . . what about you, what do you do?”
“Are we really that much alike?” Kyri was both amused and appalled. When was the last time I played a game, just for fun? Read a book? Wasn’t studying religion, swordplay, combat, or thinking about tracking down my enemies? “Myrionar’s Balance, I think the last time I did anything that didn’t relate to being, or becoming, a Justiciar or Adventurer must’ve been when I was a child, playing with our figurines . . .”
The two looked at each other and the absurdity caused them both to burst out laughing again. “Oh, oh, Light, I needed that,” Miri said finally, getting her breath. “All right, we’re both career warriors. So let’s just stop fighting that and go do some sparring? I’ve got these new knives that need an opponent, and you’ve got armor that I can’t cut through.”
“But you don’t,” Kyri pointed out as they got up to head for the training area Miri had shown them that morning.
“Don’t underestimate what I wear just because it looks delicate!”
“All right, I won’t. I certainly won’t underestimate you, I’ve seen you in action. But I’ll stick with hand-to-hand techniques and not use Flamewing.”
“Oh, good, I don’t feel like being bisected and cauterized at the same time,” Miri said with a smile.
The training field was empty when they reached it—the midday sun was too hot for those not wearing comfort-enchanted armor. Kyri got into a guard pose and waited.
Miri advanced, knives flickering like lightning. The bewildering spinning movement baffled the eye, made it nearly impossible to guess the direction of the intended assault, and Kyri backed up, gauging not from the weapons but from the movement of the body and the shifting of the eyes where and when Miri intended to try to land her stroke.
Slash! Slash! Two strikes, quick as reflections dancing off water. Kyri barely parried them, but missed the boot that came up and struck her squarely in her midriff. The Raiment of the Phoenix blunted the blow but she still tumbled back, rolling and trying to come up in an advantageous position.
But Miri was fast—so fast she was already on the other side of Phoenix, behind her as she rolled to her feet. Kyri somersaulted forward, trying to stay out of reach of the deadly blades. She’s pursuing, so—
The rear-directed sweep only grazed Miri’s foot, but that still threw her coordination off, gave Kyri a vital split second to recover and face the smaller woman. For several more minutes they danced and ducked and struck and weaved, until finally Kyri saw an opening and kicked hard.
Miri flew across the field, tumbling like a rag doll, new blades scattered from her hands. Oh, Myrionar, no! I put far too much into that kick!
She ran forward. “Miri! Miri, are you all right? Balance, I’m so sorry!”
Miri slowly rolled onto her back and looked up as Kyri knelt down. “Ohhh . . . Well, well struck. I . . . left myself completely open that time. Thought I had you . . .”
She struggled dizzily, managed to sit up; Kyri braced her with one arm. “I’m sorry, Miri. I really didn’t mean to do that! Are you all right?”
Miri’s eyes looked still a bit dazed as they gazed into Kyri’s. “No, it’s all right. I asked you to spar. I just made a mistake.”
She kept staring, and sudden
ly said, “By the Light . . . you have the most beautiful eyes, Phoenix.”
And as Kyri was trying to figure out how to respond to that, Miri bent her head back, leaned a little forward, and kissed Kyri full on the lips.
CHAPTER 39
“You’re actually shaking, Tobimar,” Poplock said, a note of concern in his voice.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” Tobimar answered, feeling the muscles in his calves and thighs protesting as he went up another step, two steps, three—each step just a tiny bit higher than he was comfortable with. “It’s just all . . . this climbing.”
“No, it is not easy to climb to the top of the Tower,” agreed Lady Shae; she and Master Wieran were escorting Tobimar, Shae ahead and Wieran behind.
That did make Tobimar a little nervous—if Lady Shae and Wieran were enemies, and this were some sort of a trap, he’d be several thousand feet in the air and beyond any help. But he did have Poplock with him, he had his training, he had his armor and weapons forged by the Spiritsmith himself, and . . . he needed to do this.
By preference, he’d have done this completely alone, without even Poplock. But the Great Light was the holy relic and symbol of all Kaizatenzei; there wasn’t a chance in all the Hells that he would be allowed to approach it unattended. That meant he really did need to have someone with him, and Poplock was the best choice for that, not the least because he’d been with Tobimar long enough to know, really know, what this meant to Tobimar. If it really is the Sun . . .
He paused, catching his breath, letting the ache in his legs fade a bit. “How many steps are there in this Tower?”
“From the base of the tower to the peak—the Chamber of Light—are exactly eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight steps of eight inches in height,” Master Wieran replied from behind.
This has to be the Sun. Eight is the sacred number, his symbol raised high.
“Funny,” muttered Poplock, as Tobimar resumed the climb.
“What?” he muttered. The echoing of their steps through the tower minimized the chance of being overheard.
“Well, Shae’s an active woman with an obvious interest in keeping herself in peak condition, so maybe it’s not surprising she’s making you look like a newleg, but Wieran there doesn’t seem to be bothered at all by the climb either.”
That was odd. At the next short rest and for some time after they resumed, he surreptitiously studied Wieran, and concluded that Poplock was right. While he occasionally made sounds as though the ascent was difficult or tiring, Wieran did not in fact seem to be breathing significantly faster, nor did he appear to slowing down, as even Tobimar did. Very odd. Unsettling, and it doesn’t make sense. He’s focused on his laboratory work. He doesn’t have the time or inclination to stay in absolute top shape.
But that minor concern was being pushed to the background as they approached the top of the tower. At this range Tobimar could feel the Great Light, an inaudible song, an intangible vibration, an invisible Presence calling him forward, radiating its power and essence through the stone and metal of the Tower as though it were the merest air. Though his legs were now leaden and filled with dull agony, Tobimar did not slacken his pace; he could not, not now, and he dimly realized that he had caught up to Lady Shae, had passed her, and he could see the landing above, twenty steps, fifteen, ten, five, one—
The last step gave onto a black floor, polished yet giving back only the faintest glint of light. The walls, too, were black, interrupted only by eight windows set equidistantly about the perimeter of this, the highest room in the Tower. The ceiling, too, was pure ebony black. But all of this was but the merest side note, inconsequential detail, for in the center of the room was the Great Light.
It floated without visible support, a sphere of crystal not quite three inches across, and from within shone a brilliant polychromatic refulgence, a rainbow light so rich and pure that it was tangible. The rays of light caressed Tobimar’s cheeks as they passed, breaths of air glowing with ruby and amber and emerald and sapphire, the distilled essence of joy and power and of all that was right.
And at the very center he could see a spark of blazing blue-white, burning like the core of a thunderbolt unleashed yet restrained within that impervious shell. Tobimar found himself moving forward.
“Umm, Tobimar, are you sure you should do that?”
“Hold, Tobimar!” called a voice from behind him, tense with concern.
But there was no stopping, no holding him back. Before any could move to restrain him, Tobimar Silverun reached out and touched the Great Light.
For an instant nothing happened; he felt the crystalline smoothness under his fingers, saw the delicate inlay of silvery metal that formed a setting at the very top of the artifact, a setting with a slender black metal chain attached to it, but nothing save the light seemed at all unusual or remarkable.
Then without warning the light expanded, a brilliance beyond mere light blinding him . . . yet he found he could see, see something else, something within the crystal, something that should be small but that was not, that rose up, towered up, blotting out the walls and floor and looming like a thundercloud of onyx and shattered rainbow, a black figure draped in night-shadow and surrounded by light, the head a blaze of unreadable luminance, its waist belted by rainbow and prism, and on its chest a golden sigil that Tobimar had known since he was too young to walk. For all its incomprehensible size the figure still seemed distant, walled away, but there was no mistaking it or the aura of Power it radiated.
As Tobimar began to truly grasp what he had seen, the figure began to fade, the world around him to take on its structure again. But now he knew, and he sank to his knees and bowed low, then rose—realizing that there was no pain or stiffness in his legs, that indeed his weariness was gone as though it had never been.
“Are you all right?” demanded Lady Shae. “I warned you—”
“Lady Shae of Kaizatenzei,” Tobimar said, and bowed. “I apologize for my conduct; I was seized by an impulse, and perhaps more than mere impulse, but still I committed an offense against your courtesy and hospitality by moving forward heedlessly.”
He could not keep a wondering smile from his face. “But I have now absolute knowledge that this, your Great Light, is also what I have hoped and dreamed to find. This is the Sun of Infinity, Terian’s Star, the greatest of His artifacts ever given to the hands of mortals, and I have the proof we sought.” A rising triumph was in him, and his next words rang out with an echo throughout the Tower’s highest room.
“This was my people’s homeland, and my quest’s end is in sight.”
CHAPTER 40
For a long moment Miri was enveloped in pure sensation: the warmth on her own lips, the faintly spicy scent Phoenix must use as part of her morning ritual, the smell of exercise, the solidity of the arm supporting her. For that moment she was . . . happy.
And then her mind caught up to her impulse in a rush and she suddenly broke and rolled away. What am I doing? What’s wrong with me? I don’t understand . . .
But she did understand, and horror began to well up in her, even as Phoenix stood, staring at her in surprise and concern.
Her thoughts were still scattered, but she knew she had to say something. Let the emotion drive your words, at least. Must be convincing!
“I . . . I’m sorry, Phoenix! I didn’t mean . . . I . . .” What is that? It’s babbling!
The beautiful, severe face softened, smiled, and the great gray eyes caught Miri again in their gaze. “It’s all right, Miri. I was . . . startled, I admit, but I’m not angry with you.” She grinned. “How could I be angry at such a compliment?”
Relief—from both sides—filled her. She’s not angry with me! And she’s not suspicious! “Well, um, I’m glad you think it’s a compliment . . . I didn’t . . . well, I wasn’t thinking, I just was a little knocked into shadow by that last blow, and I . . .”
Phoenix laughed and reached out, took her hands. “Miri, it’s all right. Really. I
’m sorry I can’t, well, reciprocate, but I’m with Tobimar and I can’t see that changing. We’re right for each other, and we’re both pretty much one-person-at-a-time people.”
Of course they are. I could see that in the way they look at each other, often when they don’t think anyone else is watching. The thought ached . . . yet try as she might, the black, corrosive rage and hatred that would be such a good antidote for this confusing and dangerous feeling refused to emerge. “I wouldn’t want you to leave him for me,” she said, and to her utter bewilderment a part of her meant that. Oh, Father, I am so badly damaged. I don’t know what to do! “. . . even if you would. I’m . . . needed here, and you’ll have to go on. You have your mission to complete. He’ll stay with you forever. I can see it.”
Still, she wasn’t letting go of Phoenix’s hands, not yet.
“Yes . . . you’re right.” Phoenix smiled, looking up to the Tower where Tobimar must by now be nearly at the top, then looked back gravely. “I hope this won’t damage our friendship.”
That alien part of her spoke before the rest of her even thought about the response. “No! No, I won’t let it! We’re so much alike, we have so much in common, you’re the first I’ve ever had the time to get to know outside of the Guard . . . No, I won’t let it. But . . . I do need to think, I mean, to clear out my head, if you know—”
A detonation of pure rainbow light exploded from the pinnacle of the Tower, with a song of triumph and good that both burned Miri’s innermost soul and brought tears of joy to her eyes. She saw Phoenix staring at the light, transfixed, even as the ecstatic luminance slowly faded back to the normal shimmer.
“Tobimar,” Phoenix said softly, triumphantly. “He reached the Great Light and it recognized him.” The absolute certainty in her voice stunned Miri.
“How can you be so sure?” Miri asked, trying to keep it from being in the completely incredulous tones of her inner voice.