As she carried on parallel with Great Major Canal, her farsight probed through the city substance below her feet, showing it as a thick shadow of brown-gray, almost completely featureless. She didn’t have anything like Edeard’s perception range, but she had been able to glimpse the tunnels below the canals, which was a moment of extreme pride, even though they appeared like a particularly low-quality exovision display. Then, when she added a biononic field function scan to the wavering specter, she was also aware of the faint fissures even farther beneath her feet that represented the travel tunnels.
But that was definitely her limit. There was no way she could sense the city’s slumbering mind so far underneath, let alone wake it. She wondered if the Silverbird’s neutron laser could cut down into a travel tunnel for her and, if it did, what Makkathran’s response would be. Field function scans had confirmed that the city’s orange lighting was all electrically powered. That evidence of a technological base convinced her that the travel tunnels could take her a great deal closer to the controlling core of the city, whatever the city actually was.
Again, that would be a project for another day. If I just knew how long it’s going to be before someone arrives. Surely the Pilgrimage fleet must be on its way by now. That must be what Dad was expecting when he told me to come here.
Most of the buildings in Fiacre were covered in vines and creepers growing out of the deep troughs that lined the streets. Without anyone tending them, they now simply swamped the structures they were supposed to complement, sealing up the entranceways and cloaking the windows. Some of the narrower alleys were impassable tangles of dense vegetation, and even the wider streets were difficult to walk down. Fortunately, the path along the side of the Great Major Canal was relatively clear.
The open bridge over Grove Canal was so smooth that it verged on slippery, and that was with the rugged soles of her boots. She vaguely recalled it had a rope rail and wooden slats pinned on back in Edeard’s time. But she edged across it without falling into the water below. Then she was in Eyrie. The tall towers did have a distant kinship with human Gothic design, though no one on Earth had ever built anything quite so crooked as these. She walked though the broad thoroughfares between them, tipping her head back to try to glimpse the spires that formed a crown around each apex. The angle was all wrong, but she wasn’t going to climb up one to gain a view from the platform at the top, not today.
It was late morning by the time she arrived at the Lady’s church. “Cathedral” would be more accurate, she thought. The large central dome with its crystal summit radiated three long wings outward, each with five levels of balconies held apart by slim fluted pillars.
The doors had gone, as had all the pews. Justine walked in, feeling more nervous than she usually did when she scouted the famous buildings. Sunlight shone down vertically through the huge transparent center of the dome, creating a bright haze over the silver-white floor. Several default genistars gave her a curious look before shuffling away down one of the broad side cloisters where they were nesting. There were no sculpted genistars left, of course. Creating ge-chimps or maybe ge-hounds was another possible occupation for her, though the high probability that she’d mess up the sculpting made her squeamish. Even Master Akeem at the height of his ability had a regular quota of failures.
She thought she could see something moving on the other side of the bright shaft of light filling the center of the church. Farsight and retinal zoom functions found nothing, but she was uncertain. Something about the church was unnerving her, like a deep harmonic that she couldn’t quite hear.
Stupid. Come on, girl. Pull yourself together.
She marched straight through the intense splash of light. The giant white marble statue of the Lady had survived, standing alone where the altar once had rested. One of the cloisters opened up behind it, and again she thought there was some movement in the shadows. Goose bumps were rising along her arms. She moved forward, more cautiously this time. Her third hand pulled gingerly at the secure flap on top of her holster. Just in case …
She moved into the relative gloom of the cloister, allowing her retinas to adjust. Farsight showed her there was nothing but empty air. Then her father stepped out from behind a pillar twenty meters away.
Justine let out a small sob of relief and took one step forward before freezing. A big alien had emerged beside him.
“Dad?”
“Hello, darling. Glad you made it here. Not that I was getting worried, but …”
He smiled his half smile, the one that was so familiar and welcome that she just wanted to rush over and hug him. However-“Is that an Anomine?”
“Yep. Meet Tyzak. He’s slowly showing an interest in our story.”
The Anomine twittered away in its high-pitched voice.
“He says he’s pleased to see you,” Gore translated.
Justine sighed. “And here I was just starting to think everything was making sense.”
“Trust me. You’re doing fine. That was a good landing, by the way. Nicely judged.”
“What’s happening, Dad? Why am I here?”
“You’re my link into the Void. And that makes you critical. People are on their way.”
“The Pilgrimage fleet?”
“Yeah; they made it past the warrior Raiel. But there’s someone else, too. That’s important, Justine. They should arrive before the fleet. They may even be in the Void already.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “Who?”
“The other Dreamers.”
“You’re kidding?” That made little sense. “Really?”
“Yeah. An old contact told me they got ahead or at least made it to the boundary. I don’t know anything more. But if they made it through, they’ll head for Makkathran.”
“Why, though? Why them?”
“Because they’re what I need in place along with you.”
“All right, Dad, I’ll watch for them.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you got any idea of time scale?”
“Not really. I’m sorry, darling; you’ll just have to sit it out.”
“Do I need to get anything ready?”
“No. Just survive, however long it takes.”
“I was thinking I might try and communicate with the city mind. Drill down into the deep tunnels or something,” she said with a hopeful tone.
“No point.”
“Can’t you tell me anything?”
“I will, I promise. But I’m contending with a small local problem that might become unpleasantly physical if I show my hand too soon. And I should warn you that Ilanthe is with the Pilgrimage fleet.”
“Ha! That bitch. I’ll sort her out if she tries anything with me.”
Gore’s golden features reflected anxiety. “No, you won’t, darling. She’s not what she used to be. She’s taken on a different aspect which might be trouble, a lot of trouble. Even the Silfen are worried about her and what she’s doing.”
“Oh. Okay.” Justine didn’t like the sound of that at all. It took a great deal for Gore to show caution.
“I love you, darling.”
“Dad. Be careful, please.”
“My middle name.”
“I thought that was ‘Bulldozer.’”
“I hyphenate a lot these days. Sign of the times.” He raised his arm and gradually turned translucent. After a while he was gone altogether, and Tyzak with him.
Justine stared at the space where they’d been, then shook her head as if coming out of a trance. “Oh, crap.” She tried to press down on the sensation of anxiety without any real success. But at least he’d given her a clear objective. Stay alive. “Nice to know,” she muttered. Not understanding came hard to Justine; it showed an alarming lack of control, and that just didn’t sit right at all.
Justine turned and walked back out into the cavernous central section of the church. If she was going to be staying in Makkathran for any serious length of time, there were practical aspects she’d have
to work out, not to mention contingencies should the Silverbird’s systems eventually fail. Food was the primary long-term requirement. She was sure there had been some sheep and goats roaming around on the Iguru, and seven days ago she’d actually glimpsed what looked like chickens on Low Moat. There must be seeds she could cultivate, too. The Grand Families all had kitchen gardens in their mansions; the plants must have survived in some form. And fishing … She grinned. Fishing would be easy with a third hand.
It wouldn’t be easy, but she could survive. After all, the city must have been in a similar unkempt state when Rah and the Lady arrived. Justine smiled up at the Lady’s face high above her. “And look what you did with the place,” she told the statue. The Lady gazed down with her unchanging somber expression. Justine’s smile began to fade. There was something about those features now that she could study them closely-after all, Edeard hadn’t been a particularly regular visitor to the church. She had to dig deep amid memories she hadn’t realized her body had retained, but there were connections sparking away in her subconscious. “No,” she whispered in shock. This Lady as captured by the sculptor was a lot older than the time Justine had met her, and she’d had very different hair back then, not to mention figure. “Oh, no.” Justine’s eyes began to water as the sheer emotional power of recognition engulfed her. “It is, isn’t it?” Her shoulders started to shake, and she giggled. “It is you. Holy crap, it’s really you!” Giggles gave way to hysterical laughter; she actually had to hug her belly it hurt so much. She couldn’t stop. This was the Lady, venerated and worshipped by two separate civilizations. The epitome of dignity and grace. “YES!” she yelled out, and punched the air. Then the joyful laughter made her double up again. She waved her hands helplessly, trying to wipe the tears away.
Well, what do you know, the universe has a sense of irony, after all.
ELEVEN
THE THIN SLEET OF BLUE SPARKS cascading through hyperspace’s pseudofabric faded away as power was withdrawn from the ultradrive engines of the Lady’s Light, and the ship dropped back into spacetime. Blackness pressed in against the vast transparent wall at the front of the observation deck. Radiation from the glowing loop of interstellar detritus behind them struck the ordinary force field that was protecting them from the hostility of the Gulf, creating a disagreeable claret glow around the edges of the transparency. Araminta put on a pair of sunglasses and stared through the polarized lenses at the greater darkness four light-years ahead.
Ethan stood beside her, immaculate in his Cleric robes, leaking awe and expectation into the gaiafield. Taranse, Darraklan, and Rincenso waited loyally behind their Dreamer, also subdued at the sight of the barrier they had doubted they would ever witness for themselves.
“We’re here,” Araminta told the Skylord. “Ask the Heart to reach for us, please.”
It responded with a pulse of nearly human happiness.
Exoimage displays showed her the starship’s hysradar return. The Void boundary was rippling, distending upward at hyperluminal speed. Reaching for the Pilgrimage fleet. For her. Its summit opened.
A soft gale of nebula light swept over the twelve Pilgrimage ships.
Hysradar detected another ship emerging from stealth mode, tiny beside the waiting Goliaths but with an impenetrable force field.
“I wondered where you were,” Araminta said.
“You knew,” Ilanthe replied equitably.
Ethan’s delight chilled rapidly at the reminder of the cost of his victory. “What now?” he asked.
“We go in,” Araminta told him. “Together. Correct?”
“Correct,” Ilanthe said.
“Taranse,” Araminta said. “Take us through.”
He gave a dreamy nod. The Lady’s Light accelerated forward, with the other ships matching its course.
“My Lord,” Ethan’s mind cried, his thoughts amplified by the three confluence nests on board, then reinforced by those on the remainder of the fleet. “Please take us to the solid world which used to be inhabited by those of our species.”
Shit! Araminta shot him a furious glare. He returned a satisfied sneer. “Did you overlook that part of the request, Dreamer?” he asked mockingly.
Araminta watched the tortured red glare fade from the edge of the transparency as the glow of the nebulae strengthened. Somewhere behind them, the boundary was closing again. For the first time in days the infestation of nausea and confusion from living at two speeds abated. Her thoughts cleared.
“And your uniqueness would appear to be at an end,” Ethan continued. Araminta’s farsight showed her his thoughts, the malice that festered there, naked to taste as he slowly realized the abilities of the Void and recalled the techniques Edeard had applied. Farsight also showed her what he was hiding within the copious folds of his robe.
“True,” she said. “But that leaves us leading the real life of the Void.”
Ethan reached for the old-fashioned pistol he’d concealed. Araminta’s third hand picked him up and threw him across the observation chamber. He screamed as much from shock as from fright as he flew through the air, a cry that was cut off as he thudded face-first into the bulkhead. He crashed awkwardly to the floor, whimpering in pain from the broken bones. Blood was dripping from his mouth and nose.
“When Rah and the Lady came to Makkathran, they had only politics and brute force to enforce their rule,” Araminta said lightly as she walked toward Ethan, who was trying to scramble away. “How fitting that such gifts are also what we will be starting out with.”
Ethan went for a heartsqueeze. Araminta warded it off easily. She held out a hand, palm upward, raising it. Ethan was abruptly tugged off the floor. A finger beckoned. He was drawn toward her.
“You were right,” she said to Aaron. “I did need to practice. He’s a sneaky little shit.”
Taranse, Darraklan, and Rincenso were very still, all of them hurrying to establish their own mental shields lest the Dreamer should read their thoughts.
“You don’t believe,” Ethan hissed through bloody lips. “You never did.”
“But you believe in me, don’t you?” she urged huskily, recalling Tathal’s dreadful compulsive domination during the Twenty-sixth dream, applying the ability against the squirming mind before her. “It was me who brought you to the barrier. Me who called to the Skylord. Me who is bringing you to Querencia. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes,” Ethan gurgled.
“And you are grateful for such an act of selfless generosity, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“How could you do anything but love the person who made it possible to finally live the dream?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Do you love me, Ethan? Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“Thank you, Ethan, from the bottom of my heart.” She lowered him carefully to the decking and smiled gently at her aghast audience. “The ex-Conservator seems to have tripped in all the excitement. Please take him to the sick bay.”
Taranse nodded nervously and knelt down to help Ethan. With Darraklan’s assistance, they managed to pull him up between them.
Because she could show no weakness, Araminta watched them with a passive smile. Over in the Mellanie’s Redemption, Araminta-two was puking his guts up at the atrocity he’d just committed.
“Dreamer, look,” Rincenso said in wonder. He was pointing at the front of the observation deck. On the other side of the transparent bulkhead, a flock of Skylords were approaching the pilgrimage fleet. For all she feared and resented the creatures, they looked glorious as they swam out of the sparse starscape.
As soon as the boundary closed behind them, Ilanthe ordered the ship to open its cargo bay doors. She could sense the abilities intrinsic to the Void’s fabric pervade the inversion core. What the animal humans of Querencia crudely described as farsight allowed her mind to examine the fabric directly, plotting the effect her own thoughts had on it, the alterations and reactions they propagated. The symbiosis was fas
cinating; already she’d learned more than she had from a century of remote analysis of Inigo’s stupid dreams. The Void’s quantum architecture was completely different from the universe outside. But it was tragically flawed, requiring extrinsic energy to sustain itself even in its base state. When the functions enfolded within its extraordinary intricate quantum fields were activated, the power levels they consumed were far greater than she’d expected.
“The doomsayers were right,” she told Neskia. “The pilgrimage animals would have wiped out the galaxy with their reset demands.”
“Will you prevent that?” Neskia asked.
Ilanthe regarded the concern swirling within her otherwise faithful operative’s mind with detached interest. Even a Higher as progressive and complex as Neskia was betrayed by residual animal emotion. “My success will render the question irrelevant.”
Ilanthe observed the flock of Skylords closing in. With their opalescent vacuum wings extended wide, the mountain-size creatures were expanding quickly across the thin scattering of stars as they accelerated toward the fleet. The lambent twisted strands of the nebulae were distorted through the weird lensing effect of the wings, causing them to flicker and shift like celestial flames. Ilanthe examined the true functionality of the wings, how they rooted down into the Void fabric, manipulating localized gravity and temporal flow. A process of propulsion so much more sophisticated than the crude “telekinetic” ability of manipulating mass location. Less energy-demanding, too, she noted approvingly.
When her thoughts tried to replicate the same interaction with the Void fabric, there was some aspect missing. Instead she simply wished herself elevating out into space, employing some of the technique Edeard’s descendant had employed in the Last Dream. The inversion core immediately flew clear of the ship. The method worked, which was gratifying, but it lacked the elegance and capability of the Skylords.
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