The Third God sdotc-3

by Ricardo Pinto

  ‘What’s happening?’ whispered Fern.

  Carnelian hardly dared to voice his hope. ‘The sartlar are leaving.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  Once more in Earth-is-Strong’s command chair. The creaking of the tower, the mutter of voices remote on other decks, the clink of brass: all these sounds seemed strange, alien. Beyond their little world, a deafening silence. How long was it since the flame-pipes had fallen silent? His ears still felt raw. It was as if the screaming of the flame-pipes had worn deep channels in his head that now, empty, ached.

  Dawn was casting the shadow of the monster and her tower upon the brazen cliff of the closed gate before them. Carnelian glanced round, glad to see Fern there. He gave him a nod and was rewarded with a grin. A grinding of brass teeth shocked him back to staring through the screen. It was only the mechanisms working open the gate. Morning spilling through the widening gap illuminated more and more of the edge of the plateau of dead, where everything was eerily still.

  They emerged from the corpse quagmire of the killing field into open ground. The sudden drop of ground level to relatively clean rock almost gave him vertigo. Before them stretched the Canyon, still inhabited by the night. A sudden fear possessed him. What if this was a trap? ‘Open fire!’ Arcing incandescence drove back the shadow. The liquid light sputtered and dimmed, leaving glimpses of the empty Canyon burned into Carnelian’s sight. As they lumbered on, he told himself his fears were groundless. A trap presupposed some strategic will directing the sartlar. He could not believe in that, even if he did not think them animals. But he could derive no hypothesis as to why they had left. Uneasy, he lit their way with sporadic bursts of naphtha burn.

  They turned into another gloomy stretch. When at last they reached the second turn, Carnelian felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it was Fern come to stand behind him. He reached up to hold him there, even as the next section of the Canyon swung slowly into view. Its nearest portion was in darkness, but far away the morning slanted down to the Canyon floor, and there they saw, strung across the throat of the Canyon, the necklace of towers and curtain walls of the Green Gate. Carnelian felt Fern’s grip tighten and his heart beat faster as fierce hope rose in him of freedom.

  On the ground, the ripping of the breach from the fabric of the Green Gate seemed an act of wanton destruction. Though the Canyon beyond appeared to be free of sartlar as far as its final turn, he had plugged the breach with dragons. The smoke from their chimneys was hazing the upper part of the gap. The plug seemed flimsy in comparison with the massive torn masonry on either side. He took in the gaping hollows of exposed chambers. These had spilled the debris of their walls and floors in a scree up which the Marula were clambering in their search for any live sartlar lurking on this side of the wall. Dead sartlar were plentiful.

  When a voice cried out, he looked up and saw a figure framed by the greater darkness of the cavern behind: it was Sthax. Carnelian could not make out what he was shouting, but could read his meaning in his shaking head. The place was empty.

  ‘What killed them?’ Fern said, gazing down through a grimace at a sartlar corpse long dead.

  Carnelian rolled a reddish boulder with his foot. It turned out to be hollow. The interior still showed some unrusted black. It was an iron casque. ‘The Bloodguard who garrisoned this fortress.’

  Fern scanned the blood-soaked ground, which was scattered with more of these helmets and other armour and, here and there, a trampled cloak still showing a slash or spot of green.

  ‘But where-?’ Fern paled and Carnelian nodded grimly, gazing down at an empty cuirass of rusting precious iron: a shell from which a Sinistral had been extracted like an oyster.

  Carnelian turned towards Earth-is-Strong and raised his hand in the prearranged signal. He could not see the message being relayed to the Blood Gate to say they had secured the Green. As he turned back, he glimpsed something strange in an alleyway that ran between the Green Gate proper and a tower that rose behind it. Fern followed him into the gap. As the blackness deepened, a foul stench swelled until they could go no further. An uneven wall rose, blocking any further progress. It was from this the stench was emanating. Craning, Carnelian saw this blockage filled the gap between the walls to a level higher even than the fortress wall and right to the very summit of the tower. Up there it was clear what composed this mound. Sartlar dead. Weary disgust gave way to unease. A desperation to find a way through the fiery holocaust might explain the mound the sartlar had piled up with their corpses against the Blood Gate, but here it seemed uncannily as if they had contributed their bodies to bridge the gap between the fortress and the tower.

  The Sapients unfolded themselves from their palanquins. They had approached along a road of fluttering blue fire flanked by files of ammonites. A space had been cleared with billhooks; the corpses being dragged away like beached, rotting fish.

  As the Sapients approached him on their ranga, Carnelian saw their leader was Legions. The Grand Sapient took his homunculus by the throat. ‘You are certain the area is secured, Celestial?’

  ‘We have found no living sartlar, my Lord Legions.’ Since the discovery of the corpse bridge Carnelian had felt a need for urgency. ‘We must hurry in case they should return.’

  ‘Before it is possible to act, Celestial, it is essential to have a complete understanding of a situation.’

  Carnelian felt irritation. What was there to understand? And then there was that word ‘complete’. How could any situation be understood completely? He wanted to act and to act now. ‘We need to know what is happening in the City, my Lord. I will take some aquar down the Canyon scouting.’

  ‘This should be our last resort, Celestial. How much could you hope to see? Even were it possible for you to travel near and far across the Commonwealth your report would be nothing more than a single track through space and time.’

  ‘You wish to reconnect to the heliograph system.’

  ‘Even if a single device remains intact, it should be possible to achieve a link.’

  Carnelian realized he had seen no sign of a heliograph. ‘Where are these devices?’

  Even as Legions’ homunculus was murmuring an echo to these words Carnelian knew the answer. He was already gazing up to the tower that rose behind the fortress when the homunculus raised its arm to point to it.

  Climbing the steps up onto the summit, Carnelian was immediately aware of the brass mechanisms around him: a double row of them running off to either side along the width of the narrow space. The military gates they had had to open all the way up through the tower had been closed from within, but evidence of bloodshed had been everywhere. Here on the summit was more blood and, scattered between the machines, discarded silver masks like the ones the ammonites attending Legions were wearing. As these men swarmed the machines, Carnelian wound his way to the edge, following his nose. There he found the corpse causeway. A ramp of the dead sloping up from the ramparts of the fortress. He felt a presence and turned to find Legions and his homunculus behind him.

  ‘The devices are undamaged, Celestial.’

  Carnelian glanced at the machines. ‘So the link was broken when the ammonites were carried off?’

  ‘Operators are not essential to maintain the link. The heliographs can be set up in pairs to relay signals, though there is an associated risk of degradation with this passive mode.’

  ‘None were so aligned?’

  ‘Either the operators had no time to set this up or else the devices were disturbed in the ensuing struggle.’

  The homunculus must have reported Carnelian’s glance at the corpse ramp to his master, for he said: ‘Ants will cross a gutter on the bodies of their fallen.’

  Carnelian glanced at the Grand Sapient’s impassive mask and saw himself reflected there. Still disturbed, he gazed towards the last turn in the Canyon, wanting to know what was happening out there, but also dreading it.

  ‘Celestial, may we make the attempt to re-establi
sh the link?’

  Carnelian turned back to the Grand Sapient. If he allowed this, the Wise would restore Osrakum’s control of the legions and, with those, dominion over the Three Lands. In the present political situation, it would be their voice the world obeyed.

  ‘We must re-establish a vision of the Commonwealth.’

  ‘A vision of the Commonwealth?’

  ‘An amalgamation of what has been and can currently be perceived from every watch-tower and fortress across the Land.’

  ‘How long would that take?’

  ‘Depending on how many channels remain intact, Celestial, little more than a single day.’

  Carnelian stared. ‘It would take a signal that long to go to Makar and return.’

  ‘Still, it can be done.’

  ‘From every watch-tower?’

  ‘With a single command code, the entire system can be set into a seeing mode. All sources will supply data in a fixed, compact format along five channels. Of course, Celestial, to achieve a synthesis of the data it will all have to be relayed to the Labyrinth. We have not the facilities here to process it.’

  Remembering the system of networked ammonites he had seen in the Halls of Thunder, Carnelian nodded. ‘Ammonite arrays…’

  There was a noticeable stiffening of Legions’ fingers. ‘Just so, Celestial.’

  ‘What then, my Lord?’

  ‘Our collective mind will possess a fully integrated temporal and spatial vision of everything that is happening in the Commonwealth.’

  Carnelian tried to grasp what possessing such an understanding might be like. He failed. One thing was certain, though: thereafter, if they chose to act on this vision, they would be doing so trusting the Wise utterly. How, after all, could he or Osidian verify or question their analysis, never mind the vision upon which it was based? Carnelian yearned for the ride around that corner to look upon the outer world with his own eyes, but he could see only as far as a man could. There was no alternative.

  ‘Re-establish the link.’

  The heliographs were greased, swung round, angled back and forth. Ammonites pulled at the handles that caused their newly polished mirrors to louvre into strips. At last everything was ready. Five of the devices were chosen and, by means of sighting tubes, they were aligned towards points out on the far Canyon wall near the last turn. All five heliographs began sending signals. Several times they repeated the procedure. A while later a flashing began on the faraway Canyon wall. Another joined it and another, until five distinct stars were flashing signals that Carnelian knew must be coming from the watch-towers set in the gatehouses of the Wheel. Even as this was happening, five other heliographs had been aligned back into the Canyon and, soon, they too had obtained confirmation of a link back to the Blood Gate and, no doubt, on to the Wise in the Labyrinth.

  It was some time later that the first signals started coming in from the outer world. At first it was only from one of the relay mirrors, but soon all five were flashing. Reports streaming in along the great roads from ever deeper into the Guarded Land. Two observers watched each channel and passed on what they were reading to the operators who were relaying the signals back into Osrakum. Watching all this, Carnelian imagined the minds of the Wise slowly filling with the light of landscapes far away.

  He grew weary of the constant clattering of the heliographs and the muttering of their operators. With Fern, he descended into the accommodation strata immediately below the summit and they chose a chamber in which they could still feel the operation of the machines as a vibration in the walls. There he explained to Fern what it was that was happening above their heads. Fern looked unhappy. ‘It is not for man, but only the Sky Father to see all.’ Carnelian had to admit that it was a strange, unnatural sorcery that enabled these blind men to see the whole world. Anxiety drove them into lovemaking; there was comfort and refuge in each other’s arms. Later, at a small window, they watched the signals flickering on the Canyon wall. Ammonites brought them food. When darkness fell the signals continued to be sent using the light from naphtha flares. The vibration of the heliographs was unceasing so that, when Carnelian sank into sleep, he dreamed of the women of his household in the Hold weaving on a loom a fabric that became the world.

  When he woke, Carnelian saw Fern’s silhouette already at the window. He could feel the continuing chatter of the heliographs. He rose and slid his body past Fern’s. His lover turned to kiss him, then cheek to cheek they both looked out. The sky above the blackness of the Canyon wall was a thinning indigo. In the blackness five stars winked.

  They stood together, among the heliographs now fallen silent, watching a single star blinking on the turn in the Canyon that led into Osrakum. Legions and his Sapients were lined up along the summit edge, gently strangling their homunculi, who were reading the signals in a constant, wavering mutter.

  The transmission had started a while ago. After breakfast, he and Fern had dressed and come up to watch the heliographs relaying the data from the outer world. The sun had passed its zenith when the streams had begun to fail. First one, then two more, then the fourth and, finally, the fifth. The heliographs transmitting these last signals to Osrakum had clattered on a while, then they too had fallen silent. A single signal coming back the other way seemed to blink in acknowledgement. Then, nothing. Eerie silence. The ammonites had found places to sit among the machines. The Sapients knelt upon their ranga and seemed like more devices. Carnelian and Fern had found a place to wait. A single signal had woken them all. It was then the Sapients and their homunculi had lined up along the summit edge, waiting. A short time later, the transmission from the Wise in Osrakum had begun.

  The rising-falling murmur of the homunculi ceased suddenly, jerking Carnelian out of a stupor. The Sapients took their places in a wedge with the Grand Sapient at its apex, and a new murmuring arose from them. Carnelian could grasp no words. Something like a dialogue was going on between them, but rapidly, with no gaps in the streams of sound. After observing this process for a while, he surmised they must be checking the message between them to make sure it was comprehended perfectly. At last Legions moved away to stand on his own and one of his staff sent a homunculus to ask Carnelian to come and speak with their master. Eagerness mixed with dread as he approached the ancient.

  ‘We have now a complete and perfect vision of the state of the Commonwealth,’ said Legions’ homunculus. ‘Further, we have distilled from this an inescapable conclusion.’

  Carnelian hesitated, wanting to know what this might be, but fearing it too. ‘Can you describe this vision, my Lord?’

  ‘It is an entity more easily apprehended through symbols than words, but I shall attempt to satisfy your request, Celestial.

  ‘The cities in the south are beginning to run out of food. Supplies have been transferred from neighbouring granaries and we can arrange for a more extensive redistribution from further afield. No arrangement, however, can entirely avoid the shortage that will become universal within a few months. The parameters for the coming shortage are dependent on just how many provinces will fail to yield a standard harvest. Yield quotients are expected to be low to disastrous for the southern provinces. We do not have sufficient data to predict yields of the provinces in other zones. More positively, rumours of disturbances at the centre have not yet penetrated to the periphery. Negatively, all the peripheral provinces have been substantially denuded of their sartlar populations.’

  ‘All?’ Carnelian said, shocked.

  ‘It appears that the summons issued from Makar has spread throughout the Guarded Land. We have no means at present to ascertain how this may have happened. What cannot be doubted is that all five radial roads are clogged with sartlar moving towards the centre. It is possible their entire population is coming here.’

  Dread rose in Carnelian like a vast wave, threatening to break thunderously.

  ‘Supporting this hypothesis is the observation that the density of the sartlar increases exponentially in proportion with proximity to O
srakum.’

  Carnelian remembered the comparison the Wise had made between the sartlar and a locust swarm. Beyond the concentrating sartlar millions lay an ever widening ring of land from which they would have consumed everything edible. He felt a shadow fall across him and, glancing up, saw the clouds were closing over them again.

  ‘The City at the Gates exists only as an empty husk.’

  These few words were enough to stir to life a horrid vision in Carnelian’s mind. As if from on high in one of the watch-towers that rose from a causeway, he saw the sartlar plague creeping through the tenements and hovels. What horror as the last scrap of food was devoured, with no hope of more anywhere, while every day brought ever more hungry mouths, ever more empty stomachs. ‘They will devour themselves.’

  ‘We cannot allow this to happen,’ said the homunculus and Carnelian noticed how firmly Legions gripped the little man’s neck. ‘Without the sartlar to till and water it, the Land is already dying. Without the food the earth produces, the cities will die.’ The Grand Sapient leaned forward over the head of his homunculus. ‘But Osrakum will die first.’

  Carnelian’s breath stopped. Until that moment he had been an observer. ‘How?’ was all he managed to say.

  ‘Within the Hidden Land there is less than a month of food. Before the sartlar consume themselves utterly, Osrakum will starve.’

  A new vision crept into Carnelian’s mind. A miraculous vision of the lake and its palaces, but this wonder was rotting at its roots. What would happen when the Masters began to starve? He snatched his mind’s eye away from seeing more. ‘What can we do?’