Everyone looked to Kristabel, who simply shrugged. “If that’s what must be done,” she said reluctantly.
“May the Lady herself welcome you, Finitan,” the Pythia said. The other Mothers clasped their hands in prayer.
Edeard started to move Finitan toward the cramped entrance to the stairs. Macsen’s hand caught his elbow. “Don’t linger,” the master of Sampalok said quietly. “It was bad enough the last time you went up one of these towers alone.”
Edeard grinned at him and started up the stairs.
“Do you ever wonder what’s there?” Finitan asked. He was ahead of Edeard, his body tipped to almost forty-five degrees as Edeard’s telekinesis maneuvered him upward around the not-quite-symmetrical curves of the stair.
“In the Heart?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know. It can’t be a physical existence, not some kind of a fresh start, a grand house by the sea with servants and fine wine and food.” We can do that here.
“Yes, I was thinking along those lines. So what exactly is it?”
“Well, you’ll know before me.”
Finitan laughed. “That’s my Edeard, ever the practical one.”
They were about a third of the way up. Edeard grimaced and concentrated on not dropping the old master. The stairs were badly claustrophobic.
“Philosophy was never my strong point,” Finitan went on. “I was more an organizer.”
“You were a visionary. That’s why we achieved so much.”
“Very kind of you, I’m sure. But what does the Heart need with a human visionary?”
“Lady, but you’re getting morose for someone about to embark on the ultimate journey.”
“What if it isn’t?” Finitan whispered. “Edeard, I’m afraid.”
“I know. But consider this: Even if the Heart isn’t for you, it’s where an awful lot of your questions will be answered. Think who’s there waiting for you. Rah and the Lady for a start. The people who built Makkathran, whoever and whatever they are. The Captain on the ship which brought us all here, and he’ll be able to explain what made him come into the Void. Maybe even the Firstlifes; imagine what they can tell you. You might get to discover why the Void exists.”
“Ah, now there’s a thought. Or perhaps we’ve misunderstood, and the Heart is simply the gateway out.”
“Out?”
“To the universe outside. If we’re fulfilled, if we’ve proved we’re worthy enough, we get to go home.”
“I don’t believe there’s a good behavior requirement to go and live in the universe outside,” Edeard said flatly.
“You’re probably right,” Finitan said. He shuddered, as if gripped by a sudden chill.
Edeard could see the sweat slick on his friend’s brow. “Did you take the painkiller potion before we left?”
“Of course not,” Finitan snapped irritably. “You think I want to be dozing when my very own Skylord comes looking for me?”
Edeard said nothing.
“And you can wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Yes, master.”
They finally emerged out onto the platform. As always, a strong wind whistled across the shallow curving floor. Seven giant spikes rose up from the edges, angled steeply back over the platform, their jagged tips almost touching high above the stairwell entrance.
Edeard placed Finitan gently on the floor and squatted down beside him. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“For someone who’s dying? Not bad. Actually, I feel quite relieved. It’s not many who are given such clear knowledge about the exact moment of their death. Such knowledge is refreshing. It means I have nothing to worry about.”
Edeard’s fingers carefully brushed the loose strands of pale hair from the man’s damp forehead. Finitan’s skin felt unpleasantly cold, giving Edeard a fair indication of what his deteriorating body was going through.
The number of people farsighting them now that they were out of the stairwell and in the open was almost oppressive. Edeard could sense that the city had virtually come to a halt to focus its full attention on him and the tower. Everyone was waiting expectantly. Even Yrance’s agitators were silent now that the promised moment was approaching.
Edeard felt the unknown watcher’s farsight sweep across him, even pervading the tower structure around him, probing and questing. It was coming from Cobara district, as usual.
“Today is hardly secret,” he shot back.
The farsight ended.
“Who was that?” Finitan asked.
“I don’t know. But I expect I’ll be finding out before too long. You know Makkathran: always trouble brewing somewhere.”
“That was more than the usual trouble. They had an ability equal to yours.”
“Greater, I suspect.”
“Have you sensed them before?”
“I’ve had indications that there are people of my stature emerging, yes. But that doesn’t affect today.”
“Edeard-”
“No.” Edeard closed his finger around Finitan’s frail hand. “This is about you and the Skylord. You have to prove once and for all that what you did was right. After that, all our troubles will be minor. That is what I ask of you today.”
Finitan’s head fell back onto the cushion of his cloak hood. “Stubborn to the very end-well, my end. You know, that day you arrived in my office, I was worried you might just decide to be an apprentice in the Blue Tower for seven years. What a waste that would have been. What a loss to the world.”
“I always thought you were overemphasizing the bad points.”
“One of my smaller crimes. I’m sure the Lady will want to discuss it at length if I ever catch up with her, along with all the others.”
“You will. What a meeting that’s going to be.”
“Ha! I don’t think she …” Finitan trailed off, an expression of outright surprise manifesting on his face. “Oh, my. Edeard?”
Edeard turned to face the Lyot Sea. Right on the horizon a peculiar haze patch was rising above the water to expand across the sky. “It comes,” he said with simple happiness.
Finitan’s hand grasped his tightly. “Thank you, Edeard, for everything.”
“I owe you so much.” He could sense the startled longtalk starting down on the streets and canals below as those with the most powerful farsight became aware of what was approaching Makkathran. The gifted visions were spreading wide. Surprise and delight blossomed among the startled citizens.
“And I you,” Finitan said. “Now it’s time for you to leave me here so that I might start that final journey. Soon I will have answers. So soon, Edeard. Imagine that.”
“Yes.” Edeard stood and looked at the thick pillar that was the start of the stairwell, then glanced across to the edge of the platform.
“Go on.” Finitan chuckled. “Be the Waterwalker, today of all days. Beat that little oaf Yrance. But don’t stop there, you are greater than all of them; never forget that. And at the end, I’ll be waiting. We will have such a reunion in the Heart, Edeard. Even down here they will know our joy.”
“Goodbye.” Edeard smiled. There was so much more he wanted to say, but as always, there was no time. He turned and ran across the platform. When he reached the edge, he leaped off with a jubilant cry.
On the ground so far below, there was a horrified gasp as the faces of the crowd turned up to watch him. Laughing defiantly, he held his arms wide, allowing his black cloak to flap madly around him as he streaked downward.
That powerful farsight played over him as he fell. Then, a hundred feet from the ground, the city took hold of him and slowed his wild flight, lowering him softly onto the pavement at the foot of the tower. The crowd exclaimed in admiration. Several people applauded; more cheered.
He saw Macsen’s derisory sneer. Dinlay gave him a disapproving frown. But it was Kristabel whose face was pure anger. He shrugged an apology, which clearly wasn’t anywhere near good enough. She was still scowling as he walked over and put his arm a
round her.
“Daddy,” Marilee scolded.
“That was so bad.”
“Teach us how to do that.”
He winked at the twins. “The Skylord comes,” he said solemnly.
The crowd was excited now, chattering wildly as they all turned to the east. There was nothing to see at first; the towers of Eyrie blocked any view into the sky directly over the sea. Then the astonished residents of Myco and Neph gifted their sight to the rest of the city.
The Skylord had risen above the horizon. Now it was flying directly over the choppy sea. Edeard didn’t appreciate the size at first. From the city’s Port district it simply looked like a shiny white moon skimming over the waves, slowly getting bigger as it dipped down again. Its actual surface was hard to make out; it had the same shimmer as a pool of water rippling under a noonday sun, a bright distortion that could never stay still long enough to focus on. Then he realized the Skylord wasn’t losing altitude; it was simply getting closer. The curving underside was already at least a mile above the sea, which was impossible because that would make it miles across. Yet there it was. The shadow it cast turned the gray-blue water nearly black across a vast area. The fine white sails of ships that were eclipsed beneath it turned gray and billowed energetically as the turbulence it created roiled against them.
Finally the leading edge of that colossal circle slid across the city skyline. Like everyone else standing in Eyrie, Edeard felt awed and worshipful. Its size was beyond intimidating; it was utterly overwhelming and not a little frightening. It must have been almost half the size of the city itself. And it flew!
“Oh, great Lady,” he whispered as Kristabel and the twins clung to him. His arms went around them, offering nowhere near enough comfort. He wanted to scream to the city’s mind to protect them. Some wretched primitive aspect wanted him to flee, to cower before such majesty. Instead he laughed hysterically; to think, only minutes ago he and Finitan had been doubting the Skylords and the purpose of the Heart.
Around him people were flinging themselves to the ground, screaming in terror as they wrapped their arms over their heads. When Edeard glanced at the Pythia, he saw great tears of joy streaming down her cheeks as she held her arms upward in greeting. Her mind shone bright as she poured her welcoming thoughts up into the sky.
Dazzling slivers of pure sunlight shimmered across Makkathran’s rooftops and streets. Now that Edeard could see it directly, the Skylord seemed to be made of some crystalline substance, a million thin sheets of the stuff folded into bizarre twisting geometries that somehow never seemed to intersect as they should. Sunlight foamed through the core, bending and shifting erratically. He could never be sure if it was the light that fluctuated or if the crystalline sheets themselves were in constant motion. The Skylord’s composition defied logic as the creature itself defied gravity.
The umbra fell across Eyrie as the Skylord slid across Makkathran, a darkness alleviated by the perpetual flashes of brilliant prismatic light that radiated out of its undulating surface. With it came the thunder of its passage, the roar of a thousand lightning bolts blasting out simultaneously. Wind rushed down the streets, shaking the trees and mauling clothes and any loose items. A monsoon of flower petals surged into the dark scintillating air as they were ripped away from their trees and vines.
Then the Skylord’s thoughts became apparent, a great wash of lofty interest bathing every human. Calming and compassionate, a reflection of its size and magnanimity. Even those who’d feared its presence the most were put at ease. Its benevolence was beyond question, a benevolence almost humbling in its honesty. It was curious and hopeful that the new residents of Makkathran once again had reached fulfillment so that they might receive its guidance to the Heart.
“Look!” Marilee screamed above the howling atmosphere.
Edeard turned to where she was pointing. Every fissure in the tower’s wrinkled skin was alive with scarlet light, as if some kind of fire were sweeping through it, racing upward. Then he saw that the kinked spires on top were glowing violet-white, becoming brighter and brighter.
“Edeard,” Finitan’s longtalk called, firm and strong. “Oh, Edeard, it hears me, the Skylord hears me. It will take me! Edeard, I’m going to the Heart. Me!”
The top of the tower vanished inside an explosion of light. Icy flames of radiance flashed upward toward the Skylord. Edeard’s farsight saw Finitan’s body turn to ash and blow apart in the gale. But his soul stood fast. Edeard didn’t need any special farsight to perceive him now; his spectral form was there for everyone to see.
The old Eggshaper Guild Master laughed delightedly and raised his ethereal arms in farewell to the city and people he loved. Then he was soaring upward within the tower’s flames to be claimed by the dancing chaos of illumination surging through the Skylord.
“I thank you,” Edeard told the Skylord.
“Your kind are becoming fulfilled again,” the Skylord replied. “I am gladdened. We have waited so long for this time.”
“We will wait for you to come again.” Edeard smiled up at the stupendous iridescent creature swooping so nonchalantly above them all.
He wasn’t alone in calling to the Skylord.
“Take me!” they began to cry, hundreds upon hundreds of the elderly and the sick, raising their longtalk to plead.
“Take me.”
“Guide me to the Heart.”
“I am fulfilled.”
“I have lived a good life.”
“Take me.”
“My kindred will return to guide you to the Heart,” the Skylord promised them. “Be ready.”
When it was clear of the city, the Skylord began to climb back into the sky, rising higher and higher above the Iguru plain until it was ascending vertically above the Donsori Mountains. Edeard gathered his family around him so they could watch it go. He was sure it gathered speed as it gained altitude. Soon it was hard to follow, it was traveling so fast, growing smaller by the second.
“Oh, Daddy,” the twins cooed as they hugged him.
Edeard kissed both of them. He couldn’t remember being so relieved and excited before. “We’re saved,” he said. “Our souls will enter the Heart.” I won. I really did.
Far above, the Skylord raced onward to the nebulae, dwindling until it was a bright daytime star. Eventually, even that faded from view.
Edeard waved it farewell. “The world will know our joy when we meet again,” he whispered to Finitan. He let out a long breath and looked around him. So many people were still gazing up into the perfect azure sky, wistful and content. It was going to be a long time before Makkathran resumed its normal business.
“You were right,” Macsen said. “Waterwalker.”
Kristabel gave him a sharp look. “Why did you jump? That’s so dangerous.”
“Yrance won’t know what to do now,” Dinlay said with an edge of cruel satisfaction. “We can capitalize on that right away.”
Edeard started laughing.
FOUR
THE DAWN LIGHT crept around the sharp crystal skyscrapers at the heart of Darklake City, illuminating a clear sky with a mild wind blowing in from the west. On the fifty-second floor of the Bayview Tower, Laril blinked against the glare that shone directly through the curving floor-to-ceiling window of the lounge. He was sprawled in the couch he’d spent the night on, dressed in a loose striped bed shirt. His u-shadow turned up the shading on the window as he moved his shoulder blades slowly, trying to work the tired knots out of his muscles. Newly active biononics didn’t seem to have much effect on the stiffness; that or he wasn’t as adept at their programming as he liked to think he was.
A maidbot brought over a mug of hot, bitter coffee, and he sipped it carefully. There was a croissant, as well, that started to flake and crumble as soon as he picked it up. The culinary units on the Inner worlds were unbeatable when it came to synthesizing the basics. A five-star gastronomic experience still required a skilled chef to put together, but for a simple pickup meal, fully a
rtificial was the way to go.
He walked over to the darkened glass and looked down across the city grid. Capsules already were streaming above the old road arteries, ovals of colored chrome zipping along at their regulation hundred-meter altitude. Out on the lake from which the city drew its name, big day cruisers were stirring, edging into the quaysides. The quaint old ferryboats were already plowing off to the first ports on their timetables, churning up a bright green wake. As yet, few pedestrians were abroad. It was too early for that, and people were still in shock over the Sol barrier. Most of the urban population had done as Laril had and spent the night receiving unisphere reports on the barrier and what the President and the navy were going to do about it. The short answer was “Very little.” Oaktier’s Planetary Political Congress had issued a public statement of condemnation to the Accelerator Faction, calling for the barrier to be lifted.
Big help, Laril thought. That was the one aspect of converting to Higher that he still couldn’t quite help feeling scornful over: the incredible number of official committees. There was one for everything, at both a local and a planetary level, all integrated in a weird hierarchy to form the world’s representational government. But that was the Higher way of involving all its citizenry in due process, of giving everyone the authority to act in an official capacity, the logical conclusion of Higher “I am government” philosophy. As he was only just qualifying as a Higher citizen, Laril could stand for election only into the lowest grade of committee, and there were at least seventeen levels beneath the executive grade. Oaktier didn’t have a President, or Chair, or Prime Minister; it had a plenum cabinet (self-deprecatingly referred to as the Politburo by locals) of collective responsibility. When the constitutional structure was explained in his citizenship classes, Laril somehow hadn’t been surprised. Even with all the daily legal datawork handled by super-smartcores, you still basically needed a permit to take a crap, Oaktier was that bureaucratic. But at that, it was one of the more liberal Higher planets.
In an excellent reflection of both its excessive democracy and its forbearance, Laril realized the planetary gaiafield was almost devoid of emotional texture this morning. Everyone was withholding his or her consciousness stream, a universal condemnatory reaction to Living Dream’s Pilgrimage, which was the root cause of the crisis.
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