by Diane Duane
Arhu twitched his tail in agreement, then waited a few breaths before following the way the saurians had gone, out the opening in the far side of the spherical chamber, and farther down into the dark. Close behind, silent, using the warm lizard-scent to make sure they didn’t stray from the proper trail, Rhiow and Saash and Urruah followed.
Far ahead of them, over the next hour or so, they would occasionally catch a glimpse of that red light, bobbing through long colonnades and tunnels, always trending down and down. At such times Arhu would stop, waiting for the direct sight of the light to vanish, before starting forward and downward again. At one point, near the end of that hour, he took a step—and fell out of sight.
Arhu!
No, it’s all right, he said after a moment, sounding pained but not hurt. It’s what we went down the other day, in the Terminal—
?? Rhiow said silently, not sure what he meant.
When we went to see Rosie.
Stairs. Stairs? Here??
They’re bigger, Arhu said. Indeed they were: built for bipedal creatures, yes, but those with legs far longer than an ehhif’s. From the bottom of the tread to the top, each step measured some three feet. A long, long line of them reached far downward, past their little light’s ability to illumine.
Where are we in terms of the map? Saash said to Rhiow. I’m trying to keep track of where the catenaries are going to start bunching together.
Rhiow consulted the map and stood there lashing her tail for a few moments. My sense of direction normally isn’t so bad, she said, but all these new diggings are confusing me. These creatures have completely changed the layout of the caverns in this area. I think we’re just going to have to try to sense the catenaries directly or do a wizardry to find them.
As to the latter, I’d rather not, Saash said. I have a feeling something like that might be sensed pretty quick down here. You saw those tools. Someone down here is basing a technology around wizardly energy sources…
Yes, I saw that. Rhiow hissed very softly to herself.
So what do we do? Arhu said.
Go downward.
They went: there was not much option. The stair reached downward for the better part of half a mile before bottoming out in a platform before a doorway. Cautiously they crept to the doorway, peered through it. The saurians had passed this way not too long before; their scent was fresh, and down the long high hall on the other side of the door, the faint red light glowed.
Arhu stepped through it—then stopped.
What?
It’s not the same light, he said.
What is it, then?
I don’t know.
Slowly he paced forward, through the doorway, turning left again. Another hallway, again trending down, but this one was of grander proportions than the corridors higher up in the delving, and it went down in a curve, not a straight line. Rhiow went behind Arhu, once more feeling the neural-inhibitor spell in her mind, ready for use. Its readiness was wearing at her, but she was not going to give it up for anything, not under these circumstances.
They softly walked down the corridor, in single file. Ahead of them, the red light grew, reflecting against the left wall from a source on the right. This light was not caused by any box carried by a saurian: Arhu had been right about that. It glowed through a doorway some hundred yards ahead of them, a bloom of light in which they could now detect occasional faint shifts and flickerings. The box-light had produced none such.
About twenty yards from the doorway, Saash stopped. Rhiow heard her footfalls cease, and turned to look at her. The faintest gleam of red was caught in her eyes—a tiger’s eyes, in this universe, set in a skull with jaws big enough to bite off an ehhif’s head; but the eyes had Saash’s nervousness in them, and the tortoiseshell tiger sat down and had a good hard scratch before saying, I am not going through that door unsidled; I don’t care what it takes.
Rhiow looked at her, and at Urruah behind her.
Not a bad idea, he said. If I have to go out there visible, I can’t guarantee the behavior of my bladder.
Let’s do it, then, said Rhiow.
It was surprising how hard it was. Normally sidling was a simple matter of slipping yourself among the bunched and bundled hyperstrings, where visible light could not get at you. But here something had the hyperstrings in an iron grip, and they twanged and tried to cut you as you attempted to slide yourself between. It was an unfriendly experience. I think the hardboiled eggs in the slicer at the deli around the comer must feel like this, Urruah grunted, after a minute or so.
Trust you to think of this in terms of food, Rhiow said, having just managed to finish sidling. Arhu had done it a little more quickly than she had, though not with his usual ease: he was already padding his way up to the door through which the brighter reddish radiance came, and Saash was following him. I suppose, Rhiow added for Urruah’s benefit as she came up between Arhu and Saash, and peered through the space between them, we should think ourselves lucky there’s not a MhHonalh’s down here…
And she caught sight of the view out the doorway, and the breath went right out of her. She took a few steps forward, staring. Behind her, Urruah came up and looked past her shoulder, and gulped. Then he grinned, an unusually grim look for him, and said, Are you sure there’s not?
A long time before, when she had first become enough of a wizard to get down to street level from the apartment Hhuha had before she and Iaehh became a pride, Rhiow had done the “tourist thing” and had gone up the Empire State Building. Not up the elevator, as an ehhif would, of course: she had walked up the side of it, briefly annoying (if not actively defying) gravity and frightening the pigeons. Once there, Rhiow had sat herself down on the parapet, inside the chain-link fence meant to dissuade ehhif from throwing themselves off, and had simply reveled in the sense of height, but more, of depth, as one looked down into the narrow canyons where ehhif and houiff walked, progressing stolidly in two dimensions and robustly ignoring the third. It was wonderful to sit there with the relentless wind of the heights stirring the fur and let one’s perceptions flip: to see the city, not as something that had been built up, but to imagine it as something that had been dug down, blocks and pinnacles mined out of air and stone: not a promontory, but a canyon, with the river of ehhif life still running swift at the bottom of it, digging it deeper while she watched.
Now Rhiow looked down into the heart of the Mountain and realized that, even so young and relatively untutored, she had been seeing a truth she would not understand for years: yet another way in which the Downside cast Manhattan as its shadow. The Mountain was hollow.
But not just with caverns, with the caves and dripping galleries that Ffairh had charted. Something else had been going on in these greater depths for—how long? She and her team looked over the parapet where they stood, and gazed down into a city—not built up, but delved through and tunneled into and cantilevered out over an immense depth of open space as wide as the Hudson River, as deep as Manhattan Island itself: a flipped perception indeed, but one based on someone else’s vision, executed on a splendid and terrible scale. The black basalt of the Mountain had been carved out of its heart as if with knives, straight down and sheer, for at least two miles—and very likely more: Rhiow was not much good at judging distances by eye, and (like many other New Yorkers) was one of those people for whom a mile is simply twenty blocks. Reaching away below them, built into those prodigious cliffs of dark stone, were level below level and depth below depth of arcades and galleries and huge halls; “streets” appeared as bridges flung across the abyss, “avenues” as giddy stairways cut down the faces of those cliffs. Hung from the cliffsides, like the hives of wild bees hung from the sides of some wild steep rocks in Central Park that Rhiow knew, were precipitous shapes that Rhiow suspected were skyscrapers turned inside out: possibly dwellings of some kind. There had to be dwellings, for the place was alive with saurians—they choked the bridges and the stairs the way Fifth Avenue was choked at lunch hour, and the w
hole volume of air beneath Rhiow and her team hummed and hissed with the saurians’ voices, remote as traffic noise for the moment, but just as eloquent to the listening ear. All that sound below them had to do with hurry, and strife—and hunger.
Far down below in that mighty pit, almost at its vanishing point, a point of light burned, eye-hurting despite its distance: the source of the reddish light they stood in now, caught and reflected many times up and up the whole great structure in mirrors of polished obsidian and dark marble. Rhiow stared down at it and shuddered: for in her heart, something saw that light and said, very quietly, without any possibility of error, Death.
They stood there, the four of them, gazing down, for a long time. Look at the carvings down there, Urruah said finally. Someone’s been to Rockefeller Center.
Rhiow lashed her tail in agreement. The walls of the cliffs were not without decoration. Massive-jawed saurian shapes leaned out into the abyss in heroic poses, corded with muscle; others stood erect on mighty hind legs, stately, dark, tails coiled about their bodies or feet, as pillars or the supports of arches or architraves: scaled caryatids bent uncomplaining under the loads that pillars should have borne. Many of the carvings did have that blunt, clean, oversimplified look of the Art Deco carvings around Rockefeller Center—blank eyes, set jaws, nobility suggested rather than detailed. But they were all dinosaurs… except, here and there, where a mammal—feline, or ehhif, or cetacean, or canid—was used as pedestal or footstool, crushed or otherwise thoroughly dominated. No birds were represented; perhaps a kinship was being acknowledged… or perhaps there was some other reason. But, on every statue, every saurian had the sixth claw.
All right, Rhi, Saash said finally. How many years has this been going on, would you say?
I wouldn’t dare guess. Saash—’Ruah—whoever even heard of saurians using tools?
It’s news to me, Saash said. But I wasn’t thinking developmentally. How are we supposed to find the catenary “trunks” down in that? And you heard what’s-his-face back there: they’ve been moving the catenaries around. Our map is no good anymore.
And what about Har’lh? Urruah said. If he’s down here somewhere—how in the Queen’s name are we supposed to find him?
The sixth claw… Arhu said.
Yes, Rhiow said, I’d say this is what that’s for. And he said they were given it.
She stood silent for a moment, looking into the depths. We’re going to have to try to feel for the trunk of the “tree,” Rhiow said at last. I know the feel of Har’lh’s mind probably better than any of us: I’ll do the best I can to pick up any trace of him. But range is going to be a problem. Especially with her mind growing wearier by the moment of carrying the neural-inhibitor spell…
Behind her, Arhu was gazing down into the abyss, toward the spark of fire at its bottom. Rhiow looked at him, wondering what was going on in that edgy young mind. Perhaps he caught the thought: he turned to her, eyes that had been slitted down now dilating again in the dimmer light of the level where they stood. And then, very suddenly, dilating farther. Arhu’s face wrinkled into a silent snarl: he lifted a huge black-and-white-patched paw and slapped at Rhiow, every claw out—
Completely astounded, Rhiow ducked aside—and so missed, and was missed by, the far longer claws that went hissing past her ear, and the bulk that blurred by her. Arhu did not make a sound, but he leapt and hit the shape that had leapt at Rhiow, and together they went down in a tangle, furred and scaled limbs kicking.
Urruah was the first to react, though Rhiow heard rather than saw the reaction: six words in the Speech, and a seventh one that always reminded her of the sound of someone’s stomach growling. But at the seventh word, one of the shapes kicking at each other on the stone froze still; the other one got up, and picked his way away from the first, shaking each paw as he stepped aside. I could have taken him! Arhu said.
Bets? Urruah said. Perhaps the comment was fair, for the saurian was twice Arhu’s size and possibly two and a half times his weight: lithe, heavily muscled, and with a long narrow, many-toothed muzzle that could probably have bitten him in two, given opportunity. Rhiow stood there thinking that the opportunity might have fallen to her instead. She leaned over to Arhu, breathed breaths with him, caught the taste of fear but also a sharp flavor of satisfaction.
Thank you, she said. I owe you one.
No, Arhu said, I’ve paid you back the one I owe you. Now we’re even.
Rhiow was taken aback—but also pleased: by so much this wayward kitten had grown in just a few days. Whether he’ll live much longer to enjoy the threshold of his adulthood, she thought, is another question. But then there was no telling whether there was much left of hers.
She turned, as he did, to have a look at the saurian, lying there struck stiff as a branch of wood on the stones. It’s a variant of the neural inhibitor, Urruah said. Lower energy requirement, easier to carry: it’s not instantly fatal. Say the word, and I’ll make it so.
No, Rhiow said. I’ll thank you for a copy of your variant, though. You always were the lazy creature.
Urruah made a slow smile at her. Rhiow stood over the saurian, studied it. Compared to many they’d seen recently, it was of a slightly soberer mode: dark reds and oranges, melded together as if lizards were trying to evolve the tortoiseshell coloration.
We’ve got places to be, Rhi, Urruah said, and we don’t know where they are yet. Kill it and let’s move on.
No, Arhu said suddenly.
Urruah stared at him. So did Saash. Are you nuts? she hissed. Leave it alive and it’ll run to all its friends, tell them right where we are… and so much for— She declined to say more.
Arhu stared at the saurian; Rhiow saw the look and got a chill that raised her fur. Let his lungs go, Arhu said to Urruah. He’s choking.
Urruah threw a glance at Rhiow. She looked down at the saurian, then up at Arhu. His expression was, in its way, as fixed as that of the lizard—but it was one she had never seen on him before: not quite in this combination, anyway. Loathing was there. So was something else. Longing… ?
Who is he? she said to Arhu.
He switched his tail “I don’t know.” The father, he said. My son. —He’s got to come along. Urruah, let him go—!
Rhiow had heard all kinds of tones in Arhu’s voice before now, but never before this one: authority. It astonished her. She glanced over at Urruah. Go on—
He blinked: the wizardry came undone. Immediately the saurian began to roll around, choking and wheezing for air; Arhu backed away from him, watched him. So did all the others.
After a few moments he lay still, then slowly gathered his long hind legs under nun and got back up on his feet. He was another of the mini-tyrannosaur breed, bigger than the last one they had seen. He turned slowly now in a circle, looking at each of them from his small, chilly eyes. His claws clenched, unclenched, clenched again. Each forelimb had six.
“Why am I still alive?” he said. It was a hissing, breathy voice, harsh in its upper register.
“That’s the question of the week,” Urruah said, throwing an annoyed glance at Arhu.
“Why did you attack us?” Rhiow said.
“I smelled you,” it said, and glared at her. “You should not be here.”
“Well, we are,” Rhiow said. “Now, what will you do?”
“Why have you come down out of the sunlight into the dark?” said the saurian.
Glances were exchanged. Tell him? Certainly not— Then, suddenly, Arhu spoke.
“We are on errantry,” he said, “and we greet you.”
The saurian stared at him.
“You are not,” he said, “the one who was foretold.”
“No,” Arhu said, in a tone of absolute certainty.
Rhiow looked at Urruah, then at Saash. What is this?
“What, then, will you do?” said the saurian, looking around at them.
Be extremely confused? Saash said. I’ll start chasing my tail right now if it’ll help.
&n
bsp; Lacking any other obvious course of action, Rhiow decided to assert herself. “We have business below,” she said: that at least was true as far as she knew. “We can’t leave you here, now that you’ve seen us. You must come with us, at least part of the way. If you agree, we’ll do you no harm, and we’ll free you when we’re done. If you disagree, or try to trick or elude us, we’ll bring you by force; if you try to betray us, we’ll kill you. Do you understand that?”
The saurian gave Rhiow a cool look. “We may be slow, trapped down in this cold place,” it said, “but we are not stupid.”
Rhiow licked her nose.
“Lead us down, then,” Urruah said. “We don’t wish any of your people to see us. But we must make our way well down there.” He gestured with his tail over the parapet.
The saurian looked in the direction of the gesture. Rhiow wished desperately that there was some way to read expression in these creatures’ faces, but even if there was, it was not a subject she had ever studied.
“Very well,” the saurian said, and turned toward another passageway that led from the parapet, the one from which it had leapt at Rhiow.
“Wait a minute,” Arhu said. The saurian paused, looked over its shoulder at him: an oddly graceful position, tail poised in midair behind it, strong lithe neck supporting the long toothy head as it glanced around at Arhu.
“What’s your name?” he said.
“Sehhjfhhihhnei’ithhhssshweihh,” it said: a long breath, a hiss, a breath again.
Urruah screwed his eyes shut in annoyance. Rhiow almost smiled: here was a creature who could sing o’hra in six different ehhif dialects but who also claimed to hate languages. Only new ones, and not for long, Rhiow thought. “Well?” she said.
“Ith,” Urruah said. “We’ll call you Ith. Come on, Ith, walk in front of me.”
Ith stepped forward and through the doorway, making his way downward on the path that led from it. Urruah went close behind him; after him went Arhu. Rhiow looked closely at Arhu’s expression as he passed her. It was peculiar. There was scorn there, distaste, but also an intent look, an expression of near-relief, as if something that was supposed to happen was now happening. And almost some kind of longing— She would have given a great deal to slip into Arhu’s mind and see more closely what was going on. The thought of sabotage, of wizardries being undone as if from the inside, was still on Rhiow’s mind. But in the back of her thoughts, a voice whispered, Don’t disturb him now. Let what happens happen. It may make no difference—or all the difference in the worlds.