The Stars Askew

by Rjurik Davidson

  He sent a note to Valentin that he would be away for several days, but that he could be reached at the Long Rest, though he still did not tell his friend about the prism.

  Valentin sent a note back, telling him to stay out of sight for a while. Three days before the ascension, when the Gorgons would confront the Controller’s nomination for Director and test him in some strange ritual of nerve and will, he sent a second note. It read: You must meet me in the Undercity immediately.

  This time, as he scurried away from the Long Rest, Armand looked back to see a group of men running toward him. Their asymmetrical haircuts bounced as they ran, their faces grim with repressed violence. The belligerent watchmen came at him like dogs slavering for a wounded animal.

  Fear gripped Armand’s stomach; he clenched his teeth enough for them to squeak. He found a nearby walkway. Indifferent pedestrians barely noticed as he dashed past. This time the belligerents would capture him and the prism. He would be broken in some prison or on some torture machine. The walkway ran straight and long between buildings. Several more curved above and below him.

  Another group of men approached slowly and malevolently in front of him. Armand was trapped. Despairing, he looked down at the walkway below. He might leap, but he would surely die from the fall. Behind him, the first group of men rushed closer, grins fixed to some of their faces.

  When a rope dropped beside him, he stared at it blankly. Looking up, he saw a figure silhouetted against the glare of the sun, itself hidden behind smog that hovered around the buildings. He grabbed the rope, wrapped it around one foot, and closed his eyes. A second later he was being winched up. He felt the vast spaces around him seem to expand. Terror gripped him. His arms and legs began to shake. He let out a whimper, then a cry, for Armand was afraid of heights. Moments later he heard the cursing of the men below him. Someone dragged him onto the walkway above. Arms grasped him, dropped him onto the ground.

  A woman said, “Get out of here.”

  He could not stop trembling. Only after a few moments did he dare open his eyes to see a crowd of Varenisians looking at him oddly. His savior was gone.

  He scrambled away and ran until he was certain he had lost his pursuers, then he caught the train to the Undercity.

  Valentin waited by the fungus forest that ran by the lake. Great white treelike flora grew here, oranges and purples on the tips of their branches. As they walked, Valentin’s eyes continuously darted left and right. His handsome face was now gaunt and unshaven.

  Eels moved beneath the water of a lake. Armand looked out over the underground expanse to where classical buildings lined the walls of the cavern, their many-columned façades overlooking the smaller suburb rising from the cavern floor. Narrow streets cut between six-story buildings; restaurants and bars nestled around a train station. Carts and rickshaws hurried along roads and walkways rising up to the many tunnel entrances dotted around the cavern walls. Bursting from the mouth of a tunnel nearby, a train rattled across a bridge over the lake and descended toward the station in the middle of the suburb. Armand marveled at the place, but he had little time to wonder, for he knew things were coming to a head.

  As Armand and Valentin walked through the strange underground forest, the Controller despaired. “It’s over for us, Armand. We’re ruined. Rainer has betrayed us. He suggested he would support me, but he is the second-in-command of the belligerents. Wheels within wheels, Armand. His so-called vacillation was just pretense to draw us in.” Valentin grabbed the hair at the back of his head in despair. “We’re ruined. Young Dominik has disappeared. Picked up two days ago.”

  Armand sucked in a breath. “Picked up by whom?”

  “Internal Affairs, of course. Perhaps they’ll release him. Perhaps he’ll be sent to the camps. All those years I struggled to get to where I am, only to be thrown out now. It will be worse than Caeli-Amur. I might be sent to the camps too. Do you know what they’re like? Slavery in the mines in the Etolian range, or in the freezing forests to the north. They work you until you break. Then they throw you away.” He looked behind them again. “Did you see that? Did you see that shape?”

  Armand looked behind him but saw only trees.

  Valentin closed his eyes. “People have been following me for days.”

  Guilt washed through Armand. “This is my fault. I should have trusted you, but I was afraid. Here. I have something to show you.”

  Armand opened his bag and felt the prism, which seemed light and warm today. Gently, he lifted it out. The mist inside it seemed to have grown, to envelop the entirety of its insides. It churned quickly now, as if it knew that the future was uncertain.

  Valentin gasped. “Gods, what is it?”

  “It’s the Prism of Alerion. The Elo-Talern gave it to House Technis’s Director in Caeli-Amur. He was meant to use it to win over the thaumaturgists, but by that stage, he was a broken man. This was what the thieves were looking for at my rooming house.”

  Valentin took a step backward, his eyes darting. With a trembling hand he reached out to touch the prism, but the mist pulsated suddenly and he drew his hand back. “The Prism of Alerion. No, it’s not possible. Is it? No.”

  “I assure you, it is,” said Armand.

  Valentin’s eyes filled with a savage desire. “But how did the thieves know it existed?”

  “I told Rainer.”

  “Rainer!” Valentin put both hands to his face. “Why did you tell Rainer?”

  Armand shook his head in shame. “I thought I could win him to our side.”

  “Oh, this explains everything. He’d already made his decision by then. I knew it in my heart. But this changes everything. We must bring the prism to my apartment.” Valentin grabbed Armand by the shoulders. “The prism is our path to power. Now we.… With the prism, we can win back the thaumaturgists of Caeli-Amur. Yes—they will be ours! Yes, it’s perfect. We can unveil it at the ascension.”

  “But—the numbers will still be with the belligerents.”

  Valentin smiled. “Oh, at the moment, yes. But we can bypass the Controllers altogether now, approach the Gorgons themselves. I’m sure they will have an interest in this.”

  “Wouldn’t they want the prism themselves?” asked Armand.

  “We’ll use that against them. We’ll promise it to them some time in the future, after we’ve regained Caeli-Amur. Bring the prism to the ascension as proof, and there we’ll have our victory over the belligerents.”

  Armand did not understand. “But the belligerents will still have the numbers.”

  “But the new Director will need to pass the Gorgon’s tests.” Valentin smiled slyly. “I think we may have a way now to ensure he doesn’t.”

  As they walked back to the train station, Valentin said, “Why don’t you give me the prism now? I’ll take it immediately to my apartment. It will be safer there.”

  Armand thought about this. “I have promised myself I must keep it safe. I will bring it to the ascension, but I feel better if it’s in my hands. Still, I’ll collect my things and come to your apartment as you suggest. It will be safe there. Again, I’m sorry I kept it from you.”

  “We won’t be the ones who are sorry.” Valentin threw his arm around Armand. “This will be our triumph.”

  As they boarded the train, Armand fancied he saw a familiar figure standing at the far end of the platform: the philosopher-assassin who had been trailing him. Was it the same figure who had rescued him earlier, or was it a killer? This was the red-bearded man, he thought, not the woman who saved him. The figure seemed to be shaking his head. Armand craned his neck back through the door, but the figure was gone.

  * * *

  Back at the Long Rest, Armand stood in the foyer, settling affairs with Tedde, who glanced again and again at the guards from the Department of Benevolence lurking in the foyer: hulking men wearing helmets that fully enclosed their heads, grates over the mouths, eyes, and ears. Each had a miniature bolt-thrower strapped to his arm. Valentin had assured Armand he wo
uld be safe with them.

  “Of course I’ll take care of Ice for you,” said Tedde. “Until it’s time for you to return. He’ll be all right with me. I’ve no use for the stable otherwise.”

  “Soon I will ensure you are able to build that restaurant you hoped for,” said Armand.

  Tedde laughed, embarrassed. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  Tedde is a good man, thought Armand. A man who knew his rightful place in the world. He was the sort who held society together so that all might find happiness, whatever caste they were born into. The world needed more like him.

  “But where are you going?” asked Tedde.

  “To stay with the Controller of Benevolence.”

  “Well, I’d be wary of those sorts.” Tedde eyed the guards once more. “From what I hear, it’s a cruel world up there at the heights.”

  “He’s a friend,” said Armand. “A friend of my grandfather from years back.”

  “Well, you’re welcome back here whenever you like.”

  Armand left with the guards. They marched him to a private carriage: a long vehicle dragged by a separate steam engine, something like a personal steam-tram. As it took off, Armand saw the group of belligerent ruffians hulking in a side street. He was happy to see the last of them.

  * * *

  When Armand arrived, Valentin stood on the balcony of his apartment, overlooking the vast city. He turned and waved, a smile breaking out like sun from behind a cloud. Armand joined him, looking at the insectlike figures on the walkways beneath them, the trains periodically bursting from tunnels, climbing over high bridges, disappearing once more.

  “You are worried about the ascension,” said Armand. The thought of it oppressed him, too. The ceremony would occur in the Room of Pools. All the Controllers would attend, as would a circle of dignitaries, men and women of industry, foreign leaders, bureaucrats from the Departments, Armand himself. The chosen member of the council—in this case the leader of the belligerents, Zelik—would step forward for his trial. He would need to look into the Gorgon’s face without flinching. Visions of the scene leaped into Armand’s mind, each one worse than the one before.

  Valentin nodded. “The Gorgons have agreed Zelik will fail. Then I will claim the right to become Director. All we must do is show them the prism. Later we will allow them to use it once, under supervision. But we will need to assert our ownership of it,” said Valentin. “You have it with you, yes? Yes, of course. But there is so much that could go wrong. I could still fail the Gorgon’s test. Possession of the prism is no guarantee against that. Then you’ll be on your own. I wouldn’t trust Dominik—he’s been released, you know. He’s full of ambition.”

  “You will be strong. Think of all the years you’ve spent leading up to this moment. Think of all the sacrifices. All the actions you’ve had to take. Some noble. Others pragmatic.”

  “All the betrayals…” Valentin stared over the city as if the past were being conjured before him now. He broke from his reverie. “Come, let us eat. Then sleep, in preparation for tomorrow.”

  That night Armand awoke to a form standing at the doorway of his room. He started and sat up, fear running through him. Had the belligerents sent their agents to raid the apartment? Perhaps it was Internal Affairs.

  The form stepped quietly into the room. “It’s just me.”

  “Olka, what are you doing?”

  She ran her hands over his chest gently.

  “I can’t— Valentin.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t mind. He’s asleep.” Olka’s hands touched him, leaving little trails of fire across his skin. He shuddered at the intensity of it.

  Olka whispered in his ear. “I know what men like. I know how to make them shiver.”

  Armand felt himself harden, against his best wishes. Her hands strayed beneath the sheets, over his stomach, and lower. No, he didn’t want this.

  In the darkness, she was only a shadow, a hint of movement.

  “Please. Valentin is my friend.”

  “He would want you to.” Her hands felt him, now aroused. “He can’t satisfy me anymore. He lets me do whatever I want. Anyway, after the ascension, you’ll be too busy for me. You’ll forget me, leave me trapped here in this apartment. This might be our only chance.”

  Armand was breathing faster now.

  “Come. I can’t do this here. There’s somewhere more exciting.” She pulled him up, led him along the corridor to the circular room, and pulled him down onto the quivering pleasure-fungi that rippled around them. Armand could not help himself, for now he was driven by the urges of his body, which pushed all thoughts of consequences away. The orange-and-purple carpet moved beneath them, gently massaging their bodies, pressing into their flesh like a thousand tiny caressing hands.

  Olka whispered to him, “Oh, you’re just too much, Armand. You’re just too perfect. Such a pity, such a pity.” All the while the carpet rose and fell. At first, bits of the fungi broke off and slithered over them, rejoining itself on the other side, until it covered them totally, like a blanket. Armand’s body was overwhelmed with sensations it could scarcely assimilate. If felt as if their skins were connected to each other through the carpet, and Armand’s senses expanded and lost their form. He became one with Olka, somehow. He could feel the pleasure and desire coursing through her, and yet the feelings were his.

  “You’re too much,” she said. “Such a pity. Such a pity.”

  * * *

  Armand halfheartedly picked at his breakfast in the morning. At any other time he would have devoured the delicate strips of seaweed and meat, but the bulk of it remained untouched. Valentin didn’t even bother with his.

  When Olka had eaten her breakfast, she turned to Valentin. “I’m just ravenous this morning. I can’t say why.” She smiled almost imperceptibly. “You don’t mind if I try yours?”

  Valentin pushed his plate across to her and looked at Armand. For a split second his face seemed to crack, revealing a cold-eyed and desolate one underneath. Then it was gone, and the kind old one returned. Valentin must be terrified by the thought of the Gorgons, he thought.

  Valentin said, “Afterward, Armand, I’ll meet you in my office. We’ll plan things from there. Perhaps you should go to Caeli-Amur as an ambassador for our plans.”

  Armand nodded. “A good idea.”

  Some hours later the Ritual of Ascent began. A grand passage led beneath the great plaza to a large subterranean hall, the Room of Pools. They marched in in solemn procession. The meeting of Controllers had occurred earlier in the day. It had been a formality: Zelik was nominated for the position of Director.

  Armand and several hundred others filed toward the seats, which ran in concentric circles around the room. The wide circular hall magnified the merest sounds of the crowd as they moved nervously in the outer seats. At the room’s center, a dark pool of water surrounded a small marble island connected to the rest of the room by a thin walkway. The place was lit by patterns of lichen on the domed roof, which threw off unusual colors: greens and purples, slowly changing and shifting. Pearl-flowers dangled on long stems from the roof, like clusters of little stars throwing off brilliant white light.

  Valentin and the Controllers stood in formation at the end of the walkway. Valentin directed Armand to a seat close to him.

  When all were seated, the pearl-flowers seemed to dim, and a soft rumbling sound rose from deep below.

  “It’s time,” someone said as the willowy belligerent leader, Zelik, walked carefully onto the island. He stood in his closely cut black suit, looking every bit a Director: calm, prepared. He threw his head back, called to the ceiling, “Gorgons, I have come to announce my claim for the position of Director.” The sound of his voice resonated in the perfectly shaped room. It joined the rumbling sound, filling Armand with dread. Slowly, the sounds died away, leaving an ominous silence.

  A moment later the perfectly flat waters in the pool began to churn. Something moved beneath, rising slowly and ominously. The room
was filled with tension. Members of the crowd shifted uncomfortably, the sound of their rustling amplified. The waters roiled more, now in three distinct parts of the pool. Armand could see a form beneath the water in the disturbance closest to him.

  A head broke through the surface, and an icy fear ran through Armand. He wanted to move but could not. Instead he stared as water flowed from the slippery scales of the gray serpents that sprouted from the head of the Gorgon. The writhing of the snakes drove terror into his chest: the way they wrapped around one another, curling in and out, now showing their white bellies, now flicking out red forked tongues. From the water, three of them emerged, surrounding the island, stepping gently up to the island’s shore. Armand’s eyes flittered from one to the other. He caught a glimpse of their eyes, the elliptical pupils horizontal, like a goat’s; their powerful musculature; the claws at the end of their hands.

  Above, the pearl-flowers retreated up into themselves, leaving the room darker still.

  Around Zelik the Gorgons circled, in some intricate dance. The Controller kept his head, but Armand could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, and knew that the man must have been caught in the vise of fear, just as he was.

  One of the Gorgons, this one with a wide flat face, stopped before Zelik, turned to face him head on. At that critical moment time seemed to slow to a crawl. Silence reigned in the cavern.

  Zelik began to shudder, just barely discernibly.

  The Gorgon leaned in closer to him, face-to-face, and the snakes leaned forward and slithered over Zelik’s head, engulfing him. The belligerent leader grabbed the Gorgon by the arms. His thin body shook unnaturally, his entire face hidden by the covering of serpents. Its face was pressed against his now in some horrific kiss. More and more Zelik’s body shook, until finally he fell backward, blood pouring from his mouth in gushes. Armand thought he saw the bloody stump of Zelik’s tongue flittering around in his mouth. But then Armand’s focus shifted to the Gorgon, standing above the Controller, blood dribbling over its chin. It grimaced in intense joy, showing its canine teeth. It turned to look across at the congregation of Controllers and officials. For a moment Armand fancied it looked meaningfully at Valentin.