Emilie & the Hollow World (12 page)

“That's a lot to place on an 'if.'“ Rani eyed her worriedly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Emilie made her voice firm. Rani lifted a skeptical brow and Emilie amended, “Mostly. We've got to try something.”

“That we do.” Rani looked at the window and winced. “But I hate to throw you out a window on such short acquaintance.” She crouched down for Emilie to climb on her back again.

It wasn't any easier than it looked. Once Emilie got up to the window, she made sure there was still no sign of anyone on the galleries opposite, and that the men below, loading supplies onto the airship, didn't seem inclined to look up. Then she pulled herself halfway through the little opening, with Rani hanging onto her ankles to keep her from falling. That way, Emilie was able to lean out and look straight down the wall.

Dangling, the cool breeze in her hair, she could see the low balustrade of a gallery on the floor just below this one. The wall was rough and ridged, but instead of water below, there was a stone platform with a pretty shell pattern, extending out from the lowest level. So if Emilie fell, there would be no chance of survival. Or not pleasant survival, anyway. “All right, I think I can do this,” Emilie muttered.

“Be certain,” Rani said from below.

“I'm certain.” Emilie gritted her teeth. I am certain, she told herself. I can do this. She edged around until she was braced across the windowsill on her back. Gripping the ridge just above the opening, she wriggled forward out over empty space.

The moment when Rani had to let go of her ankles was not an easy one, and Emilie had to take a deep breath. She hadn't known how reassuring the feeling of having someone very strong hold onto you was until it had suddenly gone. Rani whispered, “Careful, little one. Go straight to your Lord Engal.”

“I will.” Emilie eased one leg out, straddling the window and finding purchase on the ridge below it, then did the same with the other leg. Still gripping the window opening, she took one glance down to make sure Lord Ivers' men hadn't looked up. It made her dizzy, and she decided that all the dramatic adventure stories she had read were right: it was better not to look down.

Feeling for hand and toe-holds in the ridges, she started to climb down. It went well enough, until her right foot reached for a toe-hold in empty space. Her stomach lurched, her head swam, and she nearly lost her grip. Deep breaths, deep breaths, Emilie chanted to herself, fighting down the fear. She lifted her foot again, found purchase, and started to edge sideways. After about a foot, she gingerly tried again. Still nothing. Keep going, she thought.

On the fourth try she found purchase, the rough surface of a column. A little fumbling and her foot found a decorative finial on it. Carefully, she eased herself down, one ridge at a time.

Finally she could wrap her legs around the column and edge down it, until she could swing over onto the gallery floor. As soon as her feet touched the firm stone surface, her legs gave out and she sank down into a huddle. Shaking in relief, she realized: If I'd known it was going to be that hard, I'd never have tried. Her hands and feet were scraped, her fingers sore, her arms trembling from the effort. So it was a good thing I didn't know, she thought. She couldn't believe she had actually done it. The idea of getting caught after that effort was horrific.

If you can do that, a voice in her head whispered
,
you can do anything. Anything she had to do to get herself and Rani and Miss Marlende out of here. Huddled trembling on the stone, she suddenly felt a hundred times stronger.

Now get on with it, Emilie told herself, and eased forward to take a careful peek between the balusters. The men had stopped loading the airship, and were standing on the platform, talking to a man dressed in ordinary clothes rather than a uniform. He was in his shirtsleeves, no coat. Lord Ivers, maybe, or someone else of high rank in the crew. He was tall and slim, with the blond hair and light skin of someone of Northern Menaen descent. That would be a good clue, if she had ever heard a description or seen a photograph of Lord Ivers, which she hadn't. She couldn't hear what they were saying either, just snatches of words carried on the breeze.

She crawled back from the edge and stood, padding barefoot toward the nearest door, the tiles cool under her feet. It was an open arch, leading in to a big empty room with a blue and green mosaic floor. It had a lonely air of long disuse, and there was even a patch of mold on one wall. She slipped through it and two other similar empty chambers, and found an open door out to a corridor. It was empty and shadowy too, no lamps in the niches, the figures of merpeople painted on the walls faded and blotched. She couldn't hear any voices or movement. As Emilie stepped out into it, she spotted a large curving stair at the end.

She knew what she should do; she should run immediately back toward the harbor and swim out to the
Sovereign
. The problem was, she had no idea where she was or how to get to the harbor from here. She didn't know the language or have a translator shell to ask for directions, and she had no way to tell which merpeople were involved in the plot or which were innocent bystanders, so she couldn't risk approaching anyone for help. And if she did somehow make it to the
Sovereign
, the Queen could still hold Miss Marlende and Rani hostage against Lord Engal's cooperation. If he and Kenar aren't hostages now, too, to force Captain Belden to attack the nomads, she thought.

The obvious conclusion was to rescue Miss Marlende and Rani before proceeding. Rani first, since Emilie knew where she was.

Emilie started toward the stairs. Just as she reached the stairwell, she heard voices echoing up from below, and she froze like a startled rabbit. It was Miss Marlende, and a male voice with a Menaen accent, that she didn't recognize.

Miss Marlende was saying, “I think you must be mad.”

The man laughed, not sounding offended. “No more mad than your father or Engal.”

Lord Ivers, Emilie thought. Funny, he didn't sound evil.

Fury in her voice, Miss Marlende said, “My father and Lord Engal aren't causing a war simply for their own gain!”

“I'm not causing this war, young lady. The Queen would still be fighting the nomads even if none of us had found our way down to this world. She's considerably more cunning and more determined than she looks, believe me.” With a laugh, he added, “Those were her men who attacked the
Sovereign
during the last eclipse, not the nomads. Didn't you think the arrival of Yesa and her warship was excessively fortuitous?”

Miss Marlende said, startled, “She didn't-” After a moment, sounding more thoughtful, she said, “Of course, I see.”

Emilie shook her head, but it did make sense. She remembered what Miss Marlende had said about the size and age of the city, as a relic of a disintegrating empire, and what the rulers of such a place must be like. Miss Marlende must have remembered it too. Sounding less certain, she said, “Why is she so determined to fight the nomads, then?”

“Because they are the future,” Lord Ivers said, as if he was giving a lecture. “If what she and the others have told me is true, the Sealands have been changing for generations. The weather has grown warmer, and it's affecting the water depth, the way the fish run, how the plants grow, the way the islands form. These shallow seas can no longer sustain cities this size, the way they could in the Empire's golden age. Now the fishers and gleaners and growers have to go further and further afield to bring in enough food for the rest of the population.” Lord Ivers' voice warmed with his enthusiasm for the subject, and Emilie leaned on the stone banister, listening intently. The footsteps she could hear sounded as if they were made by more than two people, so Lord Ivers must have one or more of his men with him. “The nomads' ancestors saw the writing on the wall a long time ago, and changed their way of living and their way of governing themselves. They left the cities, broke up into smaller groups, and now travel to different fishing and farming grounds throughout the year, giving the sea and the land time to replenish itself. They've succeeded marvelously. So marvelously, the outlying farmers and fishers of this city, the greatest and possibly last outpost of the old Empire, often desert their posts to join them.”

Ah, Emilie thought. The merpeople aren't being stolen away. They're deserting to the other side. No wonder the Queen was angry.

Miss Marlende must have come to the same conclusion. In a different tone, she said, “I see.”

“Of course you do. There's nothing I could do to stop this,” Lord Ivers concluded. “There's no place for the Queen or her nobles or their way of life in this new style of living. If the Queen was a forward thinker, she would form her people into their own tribes of nomads and send them off to look for new fishing grounds. She isn't, and she won't. She's determined to preserve her control over this dying city for the rest of her generation.”

“But you're using her for your own purposes-” Miss Marlende protested loudly. Then Emilie realized her voice wasn't getting louder, it was getting closer - Lord Ivers and Miss Marlende were coming up the stairs to this floor.

Oh, hell.
Emilie bolted up the stairs, trying to keep her steps quiet. She reached the upper floor, where the stairwell foyer had two arched doorways opening into corridors, one to the left and one to the right. The room Emilie and Rani had been locked into should be on the right, facing out into the court. And Emilie didn't think it would be unguarded. Mindful that Lord Ivers would be here in a moment, she stepped silently to the righthand archway and took a cautious peek.

The hall was lined with doorways, all with heavy metal doors, and midway down it there was a man in a blue uniform, sitting on a camp stool. The door nearest him had a big padlock through the metal handles. Emilie drew back, thinking: damn, I was afraid of that. She had no idea how she was going to get Rani out of there.

Movement and voices moving up the stairs made her dart across the foyer and through the archway on the left. Fortunately, that corridor was empty, leading out to a long room of open galleries. She crouched behind a pillar, trying to make herself small, and hoped they went the other way.

She heard them reach the landing and turn down the righthand corridor. There was a scrape and shuffle as the guard got hastily to his feet and greeted Lord Ivers respectfully. Then Lord Ivers said, “Open the door, Cavin.”

Uh oh, Emilie thought. She heard the jingle of keys, clicks as the man fumbled with the padlock, then the door creaking open. Rani said, “Finally. I was wondering if you had planned to settle here permanently, perhaps take up reed farming or some other useful occupation.”

There was a moment of fraught silence, then Lord Ivers demanded, “Where is the girl?”

“What girl?” Rani said, sounding completely unperturbed. Emilie wondered where Rani had hidden her boots and the sack, the only evidence that she had really been in the cell.

Lord Ivers must have looked at Cavin for confirmation, because the man said, a little desperately, “Semeuls, Rail, and I put her in there, My Lord. They can vouch for it.”

Rani said, complacently, “He is lying. You should hire better henchmen.”

“Perhaps you're right.” Lord Ivers' voice was tight with fury. “Let's go.”

More footsteps. Emilie risked a peek around the pillar and caught a glimpse of Miss Marlende, Rani, Lord Ivers, and three uniformed men with rifles, two of whom must have come up the stairs with Lord Ivers and one the unfortunate Cavin.

“And where are we going?” Miss Marlende asked.

“Back to the surface.” Lord Ivers' voice sounded more distant as he started down the stairs. “I've persuaded the Queen to accept Lord Engal's help instead of mine, and I have no reason now to linger.”

“Ah, you will be dropping me off on the way, then?” Rani said, still sounding as calm as if she was having this conversation at a garden party, or the Cirathi equivalent.

“No, you'll be coming with me,” Lord Ivers said. “You'll provide incontrovertible evidence of my achievement.”

Emilie gasped in outrage. Rani's reply was drowned out by Miss Marlende's angry protests as the group continued down the stairs. I can't let them get on the airship, she thought. Emilie stood and ran to the archway, then to the top of the stairs. The group was about two floors down. She needed a weapon. She didn't even have anything to throw.

She went to the archway to the other corridor and looked down it just to see if there was anything helpful left behind. The metal camp stool still sat beside the wall. It was better than nothing. Emilie hurriedly retrieved it, then started down the stairs, her bare feet noiseless on the smooth steps.

She reached the third floor landing, and looked over the open banister to see Lord Ivers and the others on the second, just turning down the stairs. The bottom level of the structure was an open area two floors high, with no floor, just narrow walkways level with the water and big pillars supporting the upper structure. One more stairway down and they would be out on the platform next to the airship, with the rest of Lord Ivers' men. Miss Marlende was still protesting loudly with occasional profanities, and one of the men had her arm, dragging her along. Rani's shoulders looked tense, and the other two guards watched her warily.

Emilie went to the top of the stairs, aimed at the man on Rani's right, and slung the camp stool at the back of his head. “Rani! Run!” she yelled.

The stool hit the man right between the shoulders and sent him jolting forward to tumble down the last set of stairs. It was poor Cavin, Emilie noted. Lord Ivers was knocked into the banister, and Miss Marlende shoved against the man who held her, knocking him off balance. Rani moved like lightning. She grabbed the rifle of the man on her left, slammed the barrel into his face, twisted it away and vaulted the railing to land with a splash in the water below.

Struggling with her guard, Miss Marlende yelled frantically, “Run, Emilie, run!” and Emilie realized she really should be running. Lord Ivers turned toward her and Miss Marlende's guard tried to get his arms free to shoot at her. She turned and bolted back along the corridor, hoping there was another way down. It's a big building, she told herself, panting more from fear than exertion, surely there's more than one stair!