A lesson, as well, to the whole Rule — Middle-Kingdom, North Map-Mexico, Map-Texas, and the Western Coast. What Small-Sam Monroe had achieved, would stand.
And the Prince Bajazet? The adopted brother hunted and likely lost in the east's savage wilderness — at most a minor legend, and soon forgotten.
There was... a comfort in the knowledge of it. A freedom the then Prince Bajazet had never known, even in brothel brawls along the river. What he'd been, had vanished as if swept away on the Mississippi's current. What he became, would be of his own carpentry.
Commencing, of course, with the slaughter of innocents. The hostage womens' blood, girls' blood, would run along the rapier's blade to obscure its legend, with good cause...
Under a setting moon, after the last day and night of traveling from the Wall, they reached the snow-dunes — the only major rises Baj had seen in more than two weeks on the plain — and the Shrikes prepared to shelter in them.
First, they loosed their caribou herd — and all the teams but three pairs — scattered them to wander back into freezing emptiness. Then they killed the last — cut their throats as they stood in harness, so the animals, spattering blood blackened by moonlight, slowly knelt in place as if praying to whatever Beast-Jesus cared for them.
Baj and the others then joined the labor of butchering out — Baj realizing as they did, that the Shrikes, expecting death, had left themselves no way to escape it.
The offal — and the sleds, still loaded with shelters and gear — were snow-buried for concealment against passers-by, under drifts the next snowfall would bury deeper.
... It was by the last of moonlight, that the Shrikes began to burrow snow caves deep into the dunes, for shelter and concealment — mining in with knives and ice hatchets and hands to run six to eight-foot tunnels into darkness, then shape and hollow small round buried dens, their snow hard-packed, and with only a javelin's piercing, higher, for through ventilation.
Baj and Richard, having watched, and crawled into one to see how, it had been done, began their own — which ended badly when their entrance tunnel collapsed, so Nancy and Patience (Errol tongue-clicking, capering useless) had to dig them out.
Dolphus-Shrike strolled from moonlight, smiling. " 'If at first you don't succeed...'" A partial and annoying quote. Then strolled away, still smiling, when Richard snarled and picked up his ax.
An annoying quote — but proved. The "try again" was successful, though the den they scooped out with great effort (and seeming large in the labor) was so small they packed it like barreled salt fish. Errol, restless, uneasy in darkness relieved by a single tallow candle, kicked and bit when crowded, until Nancy lost her temper and hit him on the head.
Oddly, it made for a very comfortable place of sleep through the day — except for condensation dripping — warmer than swaddling furs, and out of the wind. Here, by flickering candlelight, with rich twining odors, the silence interrupted only by Errol's restlessness — and once, Richard's thunderous fart — Baj lay with Nancy squeezed close against him, so close that only a small unlacing of fur and leather was necessary to find her dampness and enter it, so they lay locked.. . hardly moving, happy, and complete.
It was a sweetness so great, so simple, it made Baj weep. Nancy knew it, even in near dark, and licked the tears from his face.
... As the vertical terrors of ice-climbing had become a way of life, then the endless snow prairie another — so days of denning became a third, crawling from snow-tunnels at night for the necessaries, for exercise (mad moonlit races through the dunes), and to share portions of raw caribou, caribou heart, and caribou liver with the Shrikes. It became simply how things were done.
Hibernating in the snow-cave's candlelight, Baj once roused from a dream of his birthday, a celebration at Island. His birthday... his birthday... What was the present date, Warm-time? Not deep enough, yet, into Lord Winter's grip. On the last day of the ancient October, he would be twenty-one.
Time became built of sleep, and waking from sleep, of crawling carefully through the narrow tunnel to eat, then squatting in blowing snow to be rid of what had been eaten... though the rhythm was interrupted once, when seven of the Shrikes came trotting in moonlight from a scout south, with no news yet of the Wolf-General's Guard, though with news of a sort. A family of hunters — New Salem trash, out after musk-ox or bear — had been found by the Shrikes, and killed for secrecy. A baby had been considered to be spared, then not.
" 'Can't make an omelette...'" Dolphus-Shrike, all silver from the moon, had winked at Baj and Patience, who, out for rations, had heard the scouts' report.
"I'm getting weary of Warm-time quotes," Baj said, as they crawled, dragging a raw rack of caribou ribs into the narrow night-dark tunnel to their den.
"I've been tired of them for years," Patience said, coming behind him. "Those people knew too much — and too little."
... Raw ribs in the den, meat stripped and chewed — chewed longest by Baj and Patience and Errol, chewed briefest by Richard and Nancy, as tearers and gulpers. Then the long bones splintered for bloody marrow.
The next two long, warm, close days, ended at dawn of the third, with Paul-Shrike bulky at their den's entrance.
"The Guard has come to the Township's south," he said, then backed out down their tunnel.
It seemed to Baj somehow unfair, and much too soon to have to come out of warm caves a last time, and stand in slate-gray light, a bitter wind blowing. They gathered in groups, unsheltered in daytime at last, the tribesmen testing the steel points of their javelins, the edges of their knives.... Patience wielded her scimitar against hissing wind gusts — Nancy the same in imitation — while Richard left his great ax at ease over his shoulder, familiar past any exercise.
Baj drew what seemed a reluctant rapier, and gently tried the narrow blade's flex and spring. He cut his left thumb slightly, touching the edge.
As the wind died to icy-breezing, Nancy came crunching to him over the snow. "You stand guard for us, Prince — once, we're in."
Baj shook his head. "I said, no. The women, the girls I kill — you won't have to."
"Oh, Baj..." She looked away from him, eyes cloudy with tears, "— we should have seen that you ran free, and not have taken and used you for this."
He hugged her, their sword-blades clashing slightly in the embrace, as if jealous. "Then, sweetheart, I would have had no fox-girl... and no happiness."
* * *
Baj had imagined a great gate, pillars upholding grand doors of ice as the north entrance to Boston-town. But no such thing.
There was instead an immense mouth — barely visible with the sun just risen — roughly round, and two... three bow-shots across, a vast open mouth in the plain of snow. It was a gape of shadows sinking to blackness, where icy flurries blew fountaining up on a deep humming wind that bore the breath of many lives lived far below.
"Home," Patience said. "And my son."
"The Constables..." Dolphus-Shrike stood beside them. "We'll do what we come to do — but not be butchered before."
"The Watcher-constables station along Third Tier and lower, now," Patience said, and spit a blown snowflake from her lip. "And only a few. We New Englanders have grown soft with cleverness.... They used to stand Watch-sentry up here in Lady Weather's apron, and those without Warming-talent died of it sometimes."
More driven snow came stinging, as if to demonstrate.
"— Start your people down the Steps-forever, Dolphus. The Watchers will not think to guard themselves against a Boston-Talent." She drew her scimitar. "None on. Third Tier will live to meet you, or toss warning whistle-balls below."
"So you promise —" Dolphus said, but didn't trouble to finish, since Patience had side-stepped away... side-stepped again, and swept up into the air. She sailed out in a flutter of striped wool greatcoat, to soon be seen tiny in snow-blown emptiness over Boston's great, dark, deep-droning mouth, her sword-blade a last wink of light.
Then she fell away.
/> ... It took a time for the Shrikes, seeking around the gate's rim, to find the first wide step — deep chipped from ancient ice in the gateway's wall, and gritty with wind-blown snow.
Then the Shrikes led, with Richard, Errol, Nancy and Baj following behind. The ice steps gradually... gradually spiraled down to the left — ice steps hacked into a wall of ice, with Lord Winter above, and darkness below.
One slow... slow great-circling down, then another — the humming vacancy to their right, the gate's rough-finished ice wall harsh against their left. The grit of filtering powder snow made stepping down without slipping just possible, though it seemed to Baj that each step he took, each step Nancy took, was dangerous. He'd thought he was done with steep places....
Errol capered easily — stepped up, stepped down — but Richard went ponderous, and cautiously.
... After what seemed a very long time, Baj, looking up, saw they had descended deep. High above them, the gate mouth formed a perfect great circle of morning light. He saw — as if he were Patience, and drifting out in empty air — their small party seeming even smaller, tiny figures along the narrow edge of an immense well of darkness.
It struck him that for the last many weeks of flight, he had always found himself in grand landscapes, gigantic features diminishing him to insignificance, so that his true self — so minor, though adamant — was revealed at last, formed on those huge anvils of perception.
... Near the end of the second great circling down, Dolphus-Shrike stood waiting, pressed against the gate's ice wall, then stepped out to follow Baj just behind.
His bright javelin-head swept out to the right in demonstration. "This is death before dying," he said, apparently uneasy at being so far beneath the snow plain.
" 'After the first death," Baj said, "— there is no other.'"
It was the perfect ancient quote. So fine, so apt, that Dolphus-Shrike was left with no reply, and they stepped down silent behind the others, as all were silent but for the thump and scrape of muk-boot leather, and weapons' soft dink and rattle. Sounds barely heard under North Gate's deep thrumming breath.
... The great circle of gray morning above them had been diminished by their third slow, descending spiral, when the Shrikes stopped and stood still on the steps below. Dolphus eased past and went carefully down to see. A pause, then... before the Shrikes moved on.
When they reached the place, Errol stood and stared, tongue-clicking, A man in furs and bronze half-armor lay on frosting scarlet steps beneath a smoking oil-lamp. His head lay beside him, separate, its eyes a little open, its bearded face remote, dreaming.
"Patience," Nancy said.
A weapon leaned against the niche wall — a tall staff halberd, topped with ax, hook, and point. The Watcher-constable, greeting a Boston-Talent come Walking-in-air down the dawn's first light, had not reached for it.
... As had hiking the Smoking-mountains, as had climbing the Wall... so the endless stepping down became Baj's world, all their worlds. This was what was done, carefully, and nothing else. The shrinking circle of the brightening winter day above, the column of breathing darkness to their right — darkness now relieved a little by filtering beams of sunlight — were of little interest compared to steps of ice, with hundreds and hundreds left behind... hundreds and hundreds waiting.
Baj's knees ached, his leg muscles burned as if a fire stood beside them. He looked down, and saw that Richard limped a little. Nancy and Errol, so slim and slight, still went sprightly, untroubled — as Baj was slightly troubled — by the yearning tug of that gigantic cyhnder of emptiness beside them, as if falling might fill it for a little while.
"Careful," Baj called. "Nancy, careful..."
The Shrikes hadn't paused as they came to each of the next four Watchers. One of those — naked but for his armor — had died still smiling a greeting as Patience came sailing down to him. Another, stricken, had huddled in his sentry niche, been struck again, and disemboweled.... Which made for careful stepping past.
The fourth constable had fought. Freezing blood twinkled on his halberd's point. He'd then apparently received a cut that hacked his knee. A second to his face.
This last, like the first to die, had lost his head.... Patience had given none the time to toss a warning whistle-ball into the Gate's gulf.
... The Shrikes, Baj and the others following, went down the Fourth Tier, and Fifth, circling... circling always to the right. Then, the Shrikes stood still on the steps.
"Light," Nancy said, her voice hard to hear in the vibrating drone of upwelling air, air now even richer with odors of life and life's doings.
"light," Patience agreed, from emptiness just above them. "Lamplight below, and Boston-town." She came to settle — the morning's sun a distant brightening disk over her shoulder — came down, stumbled on a step, and recovered in Richard's swift grip. "It is, despite everything foolish, everything cruel, the wonder of the world."
"How bad?" Richard said to her, considering blood on a halberd's point.
"Caught a little skin along my ribs." Patience slid her hand beneath her open coat, brought the hand out stained dark. "I think he knew me, knew I had no business here any longer."
"What of that light?" Dolphus-Shrike, climbing back to them.
A soft rich red-gold glow lit the last tier of steps far below, so the steps' chipped ice glistened.
"Last tier," Patience said, raising her voice a little for the other Shrikes to hear. "Another turn and we will be on North Gallery.... And below that gallery is a boulevard-thoroughfare — Adams — and a muster yard."
"Constables..."
"Yes, Dolphus. Their Formations, the headquarters for North Gate is held there."
"How many?" Baj said.
"Three Formations. Over seven hundred men, with officers and band."
"... Then we certainly wait," Baj said, "until the Wolf-General moves against the city, and those people march south."
"Or we're discovered here," Dolphus-Shrike tapped his javelin's butt on an ice step, "and someone throws a fucking whistle-ball down. Then 'those people' will come up and cut us into bait."
"Have a busy time," Richard said, "coming up against us on these steps."
"Not as busy," Baj said, "as we would have, trying to go down against them."
"The Watchers are dead," Patience said, "and no relief till after-noon. No one will climb the steps to meet us.... Take your people down, Dolphus, but carefully."
"On your head, lady." Dolphus-Shrike started down to his people. "On all our heads...."
* * *
The last few steps — no longer Steps-Forever — Baj became worried for Nancy, a slip now seeming somehow more likely, so he gripped the hood of her parky as they went, Errol capering below them.
Then he saw Shrikes stumble down the way, saw them stagger at being on a level at last, so they stepped oddly for a distance.
... Eleven final steps counted, and he and Nancy and Richard did the same, stepped down and stumbled, their leg-muscles cramped — but cramps easing as they marched along on evenness at last through what seemed an ice-tunnel, a tunnel wide as a royal road. "Thank Frozen-Jesus," Richard said, "for being off those fucking stairs."
Then Patience, running from behind as fast as if she flew, coat flapping, called softly loud, "Leave them!"
The Shrikes, ahead, held still as she and the others caught up. Nancy reached to grip Errol's arm, keep him with her.
In warming light, in a steady draft of odorous air, Dolphus and the other Shrikes held javelin points to six brown-furred bulks clinging to the ice of the tunnel's wall. Baj saw great yellow incisors, small black-button eyes looking down at them, observant, apparently unafraid.... There were clawed, black, thin-fingered hands, and splayed clawed feet, webbed, clinging to the tunnel's ice. Each strapped a leather sack and small steel adze from a rounded shoulder.... There was a sharp and oily odor.
"Leave them!" Patience jostled the Shrikes aside. "They're Carver-Persons — they shape the town
's ice, keep it proper."
"I've heard of these, but why let them live?" Dolphus kept his javelin-point at one Person's throat.
"Because..." Patience took hold of the javelin shaft, pushed it aside, "Because they are beaver-bred, and not for sense — only for chipping ice and removing what they've chipped. They don't speak... and will give no warnings."
"Still, why leave them, perhaps to come behind us?"
"They make and remake Boston, is why, Dolphus. Leave them."
Dolphus-Shrike sighed a small cloud of frost, said, "As you say, lady," and raised his javelin's point as the other tribesmen raised theirs.
CHAPTER 26
Into growing brightness and richer-scented air — but air still freezing cold — they traveled the tunnel to a glittering blaze of light, then stopped, huddling there.
"North Gallery," Patience said. "Dolphus, move — move your people. There'll be no one. The gallery's for Change-of-Watchers... for Carvers."
The Shrikes stayed reluctant, shading their eyes from the light. Baj stepped past them... and walked out into openness, glitter, sparkle, so he squinted down the gallery — narrow, and vanishing into distance — and out past its carved-ice railing into a towering vaulted space, a brilliant dream of ice columns ranking away, ice ceilings past any bow-shot's reach, and reach again. And this apparently only the first in a succession of great chambers along a wide avenue of frosted ice — public spaces grand as any he'd seen in Island's stone.
"Lady Weather... !" Nancy come with Errol to stand beside him. "I never saw this. Only the Pens..."
It was impossible at first to look with open eyes into the gleam and glare of hundreds... perhaps thousands of great whale-oil lamps, each apparently backed by panels of mirror glass, and hung high in chain-looped chandeliers down those great halls, reflecting and re-reflecting off walls of polished clear ice, columns of ice shaded green or blue, roofs frosted a brilliant silver.... The brightness flared, and seemed to chime, as if too much for sight alone. Beneath these clustered lamps, occasional great tethered banners — black and white, red and yellow, rippled out on a steady frigid wind, so a sky of blazing light and shifting color was made for Boston-town.
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