Beyond

by Mercedes Lackey

  It was over so quickly she scarcely believed it, and the Gate vanished the same way it had arrived. “Our turn to be pack mules—” Jonaton said.

  “Nah, I’m here to help,” said Ivar, coming over the hill behind them. “Strong like mule, dumb like ox, hitch to plow when horse dies.”

  * * *

  —

  Kordas woke too early, as usual. Star brought him breakfast, and he pondered what he was going to do with the hours stretching in front of him.

  “Can I go out in the city?” he asked, finally. He’d never seen the Imperial City. The hostages weren’t allowed off the Palace grounds, and they weren’t allowed to roam too much within those grounds, either.

  “There is no reason why not,” Star said, after a moment. “But why?”

  “Curious. Bored. Want to see what a city-dweller looks like. I always imagined, when I was being schooled here, that they were mythical.” He got out of bed and headed for the bathing room.

  “They are not mythical, but they are . . . fewer than they were twenty years ago,” Star said, sounding as if the Doll was choosing words very carefully indeed. “Twenty years ago, when the Great Emperor in his wisdom decided it was time to expand the border to the south, there were many, many poor. Now there are no poor. The Emperor, in his wisdom, said that it is the duty of the Empire to give employment and food and shelter to all the citizens of the Empire. So he did.”

  Star paused. Kordas felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It sounded oh, so reasonable and benevolent. And knowing the Emperor, there was a dark, dark side to this. “And what did our great and glorious Emperor do?” he asked hesitantly.

  “He gave all of the poor of the city employment in his legions,” Star said—exactly as he had thought the Doll would answer. “Men and boys are soldiers. Women serve as the support, in all ways. There are three legions in the south now, and have been for two decades. They have nearly permanent camps, with everything a city needs. Horses need tending, food beasts need tending, waste must be removed. There is everything from cooks to blacksmiths. And he allowed for childbearing, even planned for it. By now, the legions are well into their second generations born and bred to the conquests of the south. It is very efficient.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He licked lips gone dry. “Is there anyone still actually living in the City?”

  “Craftsmen, tradesmen, merchants,” Star replied. “And laborers to tend to the City itself. They have not yet been replaced by Dolls, because most of the Dolls are needed here, in the Palace. There are only so many mages to make Dolls, and Dolls need replacing when they are damaged.”

  And the fact that there are just enough mages to replace broken Dolls, rather than continuing to replace people with Dolls, is the only reason why those folks haven’t been sent to the south as well. The thought was inescapable.

  “I need some perspective. I’d like to see the City,” he said. “Do I ride, or do I walk?”

  “A great Lord never walks except within the Palace,” Star said firmly. “We will go to the Gate Room. A horse will be ready for you when we reach the Courtyard. This one will be your guide.”

  The waiting horse, held by yet another Doll at the base of the shallow stairs leading to the huge bronze doors, was one of his own Sweetfoot palfreys. She looked to be about eight years old, and, as far as he could tell, was healthy and well-tended. Just to be sure, he checked her coat, her ribs, her feet, and under her saddle for saddle-sores before he mounted. She was fine, and a good weight, her hooves were well-shod and properly tended, and she showed nothing in her behavior that she’d been mistreated.

  Of course that didn’t mean she’d been treated well. He suspected that to the vast majority of the courtiers here, a horse was nothing more than a thing that took you from one place to another. Like a sort of Doll.

  And if they weren’t so pretty, and if it was possible, and if there were enough mages, the Emperor probably would have replaced horses with Dolls too, by now. Now there’s a funny thought. If vrondi are captured and made into Dolls, what about all the other Unseen entities? What would they be made into? Hold up now. That’s me thinking like myself, not like Imperial Mages. I would explore and experiment, but they probably aren’t allowed to. The Empire has a streak of brutal, unchanging efficiency to it, and primary research takes time, effort, resources, and risks. Especially since my parents’ time, the Empire does not pursue new things, it strips them away.

  The palfrey picked up her feet daintily and ambled off in the direction of the iron gates that stood in the wall around the Palace. Star kept up with no problem.

  The City was . . . strange. For a place as big as it was, it was echoingly empty. No building was the height of the Palace, of course; the Palace loomed over everything, inescapable, the symbol of how the Empire controlled everything. He didn’t see much that was over three stories tall, and the buildings themselves were a mix of so many different materials and styles that it made his head swim. There were canals, as he expected; in times past, canals were not just practical, they were seen as a symbol of prosperity and prestige, and to his surprise, the canals here had a steady flow, sometimes as brisk as a horse’s canter. They were paired with canals flowing in the opposite direction. The streets, though, were arrow-straight, and paved with something like a sheet of solid stone—except that his horse’s hooves, and the hooves of the other beasts on the streets, made very little sound on it. And it seemed to have some give to it.

  There were few horses or vehicles, few people afoot, and all of them seemed to be going someplace in a very great hurry. Buildings showed dark windows, like empty eyes. There were shops, usually attended by a single person, brightly lit, and generally with one customer or none. But there were also craftsmen in workshops, with goods showing in stalls to the side, and the workshops open so that you could see them working, and all of them seemed very busy, even frantically busy. Many—far too many—of them were weapons-makers, including ones making Spitters.

  But as he approached one of those workshops, he discovered that there were also large versions of Spitters, something he had never seen before, things about as long as his arm and thick as his thigh. He caught sight of some of them being loaded onto a wagon, and stared.

  “Poomers,” said Star, seeing where he was looking. “That is the largest practical size of Spitter. Anything larger, and defects in the castings often make them explode in the field, which is considered a waste of metal and soldiers. Each discharge requires seven pellets. Poomers rarely fire bolts. They fire wooden sabots packed with metal shot and weighted chains.”

  That would be horrifying to face. Kordas had seen the effects of shot, versus bolts, on waterfowl. A ground-braced Poomer, firing shot, would shred anything at medium distance, and the chain-shot? It could probably fell a twenty-year-old tree if it struck dead-on, and the shrapnel from the tree would explode outward. He visibly shuddered.

  “Pellets are made in the Palace, in the Fabrication Annex,” Star continued. “In case of accident, the Palace proper would not be harmed badly. The Annex is exclusively staffed by Dolls.”

  “I’d like to see that. Is anything else made there?” he asked.

  Star shook its head. “Clothing, Dolls, and pellets, is all. Dolls and pellets require mage-craft, and of course, we must be able to supply the Emperor and his courtiers with clothing on demand. The fabric comes from the City. Most things come from the City, to the Receiving Annex.”

  They turned a corner, and spread out before him was something he would never have expected.

  An immense market-garden, full of vegetables and fruits.

  “The Palace gardens only supply the needs of the Palace,” Star explained. “These gardens and others like them supply the needs of the City. When the poor were sent to the south, their homes were torn down, and the open land turned into the gardens. It is very efficient.”

  The rest of th
e tour took place in silence. And now Kordas realized where a lot of the smoke and stink was coming from. Metal smelting facilities, tanneries, dyers, fullers, butchers . . . almost everything needed to supply the Palace, and to supply the people who still lived in the City, was made in the City. When they crossed a narrow river, though, Kordas thought he was going to choke. It was an open sewer.

  “Oh gods big and small, that reeks. Where are we getting our water from?” he gagged.

  “It is from a series of wells, and it is treated and purified for the Palace,” Star said. “I do not know where the people of the City get theirs.”

  He hoped for their sake it was also from wells, and not from the canals, or that . . . sewer. Wells far away from the dreck that flowed under the bridge that took them back to the Palace.

  The City proved to be achingly empty, though he suspected that some of those who were not “the poor” had seen the way the wind was blowing, and found a way to make their livings elsewhere, before the Emperor decided that they, too, should be sent to the southern border and the endlessly hungry war machine.

  All he needs is enough people here to keep the Palace supplied and the legions supplied with specialist items, and to provide cheering crowds whenever he makes a parade. And he doesn’t need a parade all that often. He has afternoon Court and appearance dinners when he chooses, after all. Fawning courtiers, people jockeying to get his attention, whenever he chooses.

  He turned the horse’s head back toward the Palace a lot sooner than he had expected to. He had seen enough for new plans to form already, and the sooner he could get some unwatched thinking-time in, the better. There was a truth emerging from all of this, and it seemed to be the greatest exploitable flaw of the Empire. Kordas’s heart pounded, because it felt as if nobody in the Emperor’s City realized it existed. None of them.

  They fixate upon conquest, power, and betrayal.

  What is trusted is dismissed from their attention.

  * * *

  —

  To save time, Kordas left the horse at the nearest usable Gate with one of the Dolls, who would take it back to the stables. A simple statement by Star just kept nagging at him. When they were back in his apartment, and Star had uncovered the Valdemar badge on its hand, signifying it was safe to speak, he finally decided on exactly how he wanted to ask the question that was bothering him.

  “You said ‘there are only so many mages,’ but this entire place is practically alive with magic,” he stated. “How does everything get done?”

  “There are very few things that require a mage to actually do them in person. Instead, a mage, or several working together, long ago made constructs—machines—that merely require a power source. Like the Gates. The Palace mages are here for life, what could be termed ‘tenured.’ As such, they have settled upon a minimum amount of work, to maximize their leisure, and exist in what you might term a voluntary imprisonment.”

  “So their lives are spent casting the same spells, day after day?”

  “Essentially, yes. They charge items that are then sent by chutes and relays to the Fabrication Annex, and those items are expended operating the manufactory constructs there. The Palace mages produce a surplus of such charged items, which are simply stored in boxes. As for other mages, two are designated as research mages, but, as they must prioritize what the Court wishes, they most often spend their days inventing entertainments. Since Dolls were invented by them, and found to be so versatile, they have done little else of note.”

  All right. Now I ask the prize question. “My knowledge of magic tells me that you need a mage to make a Gate talisman that tells a Gate where to send you,” he stated. “But all talismans come from the Palace. How is that even possible?”

  “Because there is a construct that makes talismans,” Star replied, its head tilted to one side as if it was surprised he did not know this. “One puts in a metal model, with the destination imbued into it. The construct creates a paper copy that can be easily destroyed, so that people cannot clandestinely use it a second time to go somewhere without permission. The construct can make hundreds, even thousands at need.”

  He felt his jaw drop open.

  “Who operates these constructs?” he finally asked. Because if the answer is what I think it is—

  “We do,” Star said simply. “We are trusted, and do not tire. We can make several thousand in a candlemark. This is how the Emperor gives out talismans to travel about the Empire. There are also universal talismans, which respond to vocal commands, that allow Dolls and courtiers to travel about the Palace. These take much longer, however.” Star tilted its head to the side. “This one supposes that the universal talismans would also take the wearer outside the Palace to anywhere in the Empire, but this one does not know this for certain, as such talismans are surrendered when a courtier leaves the Palace at the end of a visit.”

  And there it was. The answer. The answer to how he could get thousands of talismans to Valdemar, talismans that would carry thousands of people and barges to the new lands. How thousands of Dolls could get their talismans and come, too, and it would look like everyday business. His mind raced. “What could be made—ordered by just a Duke, without anyone in the Palace noticing, because they don’t notice what’s not a danger or an aberration—or maybe I should say, what would be below their notice? Could—”

  Star tilted its head again, and answered before he could voice the question.

  “Yes, my Lord. We can make talismans for your escape, once we have a model. The models are merely the talismans of old, the ones mages would produce one at a time of metal blanks. We can make as many paper copies as you need for your Plan.”

  “But how to deliver them around, without drawing attention or suspicion? There would be stacks of them as high as Chargers . . .” He trailed off.

  “If I may remind you, my Lord, Dolls make deliveries unnoticed by anyone who would endanger you or your Plan. Also, Dolls are repaired by other Dolls, and need not be stuffed solely with wool.”

  He wasn’t certain whether to laugh or cry. In the end, he did neither. And by the time he recovered himself, the lights had changed to tell him it was time to go down to luncheon, and begin another round of the Fourth Game.

  14

  Ivar and Alberdina had a lot of things for Delia to do when she brought the last loads of breakfast back to the camp, though they let her eat first. Hauling deadfall to pile up beside the round tower for someone to chop up took the greater part of the morning, followed by hauling luncheon from the Foothold Gate to the camp. Then rolling beer barrels down to the camp. Then hauling water from the lake to the camp to be stored in a couple of those barrels that happened to be empty. By the time supper came around—more travel bread, this time with venison and roasted wild onions and honey—she had done more physical labor than she’d ever done in a single day in her life.

  Ivar and Alberdina had not been idle. Ivar had chopped such an enormous amount of wood that it came all the way to the top of the tower wall, and she guessed it was about three cords’ worth. Nor had that been all he’d done, since he’d obviously hunted, killed, gutted, skinned, and butchered that deer.

  Alberdina had been hunting as well—food and herbs. She’d found wild onions, swathes of bee-balm to tuck under the bedrolls to repel bugs, a big cache of nuts, and the wild honey she’d given them to eat with their travel bread. How on earth she’d gotten the honey away from the bees, Delia had no idea, and was too tired to guess. She’d found a lot more as well, since she’d been tying bunches of bee-balm and herbs upside down all over the outside of the shelter, but Delia didn’t recognize what all of the plants were.

  So Delia didn’t get to see anything of what the mages did to actually create the Gates. Just the results, which were that the four curved uprights glowed faintly once the sun set.

  She sat outside the shelter, which was full of equally tired mages, working s
lowly at the honey-soaked bread and the savory but tough venison. It was worth eating, however tough it was; those wild herbs that Alberdina had found gave it excellent flavor. Alberdina came to join her, and they gazed at the lake, the Gates, and the dark blue sky slowly going to black.

  “Is this what it’s going to be like?” Delia asked, with the last piece of honey-soaked bread in her hand, nibbling at it slowly with tired jaws.

  “You mean living out here, once we’re free of the Empire?” Alberdina asked. “Probably. Very probably. There’s going to be a lot of hard, physical labor, and everyone is going to have to pitch in. Your servants are going to be very busy doing other things than tending to you. You’re going to have to learn to wash clothing in a stream, and how to do your own mending. You’ll be set tasks like the ones I gave you yesterday and today, things that just need a pair of uneducated hands. It won’t be fun. It won’t be easy.”

  “What if I just—don’t come along?” she asked in a small voice, because with the reality of what was going to happen setting in, living life out here in the middle of nowhere didn’t seem in the least attractive.

  “Then when the Emperor finds out what we’ve done, and he will, who do you think he’ll take his wrath out on?” Alberdina countered. “It’ll be the ones who stay behind. The farmers and the laborers left, well, he might leave them alone, or he just might put everyone to the sword and move in an entire new population. But you? A known member of Kordas’s household? Anything you can imagine, it’ll be a hundred times worse.”

  “So I don’t have a choice.” She felt like crying. What had Kordas and Isla gotten her into? She hadn’t asked for any of this.