Empress of Eternity (22 page)

A long afternoon
, he pulsed.

Longer than that
, replied Faelyna.

He suspected she was all too right.

19 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony

Duhyle finished the synchronizer before midnight. It wasn’t a temporal synchronizer, properly speaking, but a device to synchronize three command levels to “real time,” although it could have been adjusted to any temporal base. That was, if he’d had any way to measure another such base. He’d installed it where Helkyria wanted. She insisted that they’d done enough and persuaded him to go to bed and get some rest.

Although that was what she had said, Helkyria held tight to him, and sleep was postponed for a bit. That alone concerned Duhyle, or would have, had he not been both tired and relaxed, but the concerns surfaced immediately when he woke—alerted by Helkyria sitting up on the side of the bed and beginning to dress. The orangish light diffusing through the “window” indicated it was barely after dawn.

“You’re tense again.” He rolled over and sat up. “This could be more dangerous than you said.” He grinned. “Or last night.”

The slightest hint of pink suffused the ends of her disarrayed hair. But she did smile before she replied. “Much more…but not so dangerous as not doing something to stop the Aesyr from continuing to use the Hammer as a weapon.”

Duhyle scrambled into his tech uniform, then accessed the monitors while he waited for Helkyria to finish washing up in the small chamber that served as a bathroom. The operating monitors showed no sign of the Aesyr. The cargo vessel or the submersibles could have been moored directly to the north of the station against the canal wall, where Duhyle would have had no way of knowing—except indirectly, but there were no vibrations or electronic emissions on any standard frequency.

Helkyria waited for him, and they hurried down to the lower compartment that served as a mess room.

Captain Valakyr was waiting.

“The Aesyr haven’t returned yet, but they will,” announced Helkyria before the captain could say anything. “Most likely, they’ll devote the day to severing our power connections. In the meantime, we’ll be working on another way to thwart them.”

“Ah…you
will
be working?”

“We worked late into the night, Captain. Determining how to operate trans-temporal shadow control systems requires a certain amount of mental acuity, which tends to fade when one operates with no sleep at all…and no food.”

“Yes, ser.”

“You should eat, too. One way or another, food won’t be an issue.” Helkyria took a ration kit and sat down at one end of the table.

Duhyle thought about taking two. Instead, he followed her example, then sat to her left.

They ate quickly, but when they returned to Helkyria’s makeshift laboratory, the Aesyr had lifted a mechanical digger onto the canal wall. Two older figures were consulting handheld screens, and a crew prepared the digger. Several squads of Aesyr, each squad bearing both stunners and what looked to be projectile rifles, were positioned facing the station. Each squad directed weapons at where the doors and windows were.

“They’re beginning to trace power flows,” Duhyle said. “They’ve also got sniper squads targeting doors and windows. What do you want me to do?”

“Give me five minutes warning before it appears as though they’ll sever a power cable.”

“I can do that. Anything else?”

“Answer Symra’s questions when she appears.”
Please!

Duhyle smiled, but he wiped the expression away as he heard the sound of Symra’s boots on the stone behind him.

“Might I ask what’s happening, ser?”

“She’s occupied, Subcaptain,” replied Duhyle. “The Aesyr have brought a power excavator. They’re tracing power flows to find where they can dig and sever cables. The commander is working to thwart them. She’d appreciate not being interrupted. You might convey the situation to Captain Valakyr before you return to convey future developments as they occur.”

“Yes, ser.” Symra turned, a bit stiffly, and headed back down the ramp.

Duhyle doubted the honorific had been addressed to him, even though he’d been the one speaking.

Helkyria said nothing.

Duhyle glanced to the side at her, noting the fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead, partly, but only partly, a result of the higher humidity in the station. He transferred his attention back to checking the surviving monitors, one after the other.

The Aesyr finally completed their preparations, and the digger moved across the stone at the west end of the station to the southeast. It stopped just south of the sunken thermasteel compartment that shielded the power cables feeding into the station conformer.

More consultations between the digger operator and the two Aesyr with tracer screens followed. Then the digger moved farther southwest. Duhyle kept that monitor screen as the one physically projected into the chamber. He did not look up as Symra returned and stood back, midway between Helkyria and himself.

After the digger turned and the operator repositioned the digging blades, he said, “I’d say we’re looking at five to ten minutes before they sever the cables from the cliff turbines.”

“Thank you.”

Duhyle quickly checked the other screens. Nothing had changed.

“Let’s try this…” murmured Helkyria.

The light in the chamber became sharper. That was the way Duhyle would have described it if anyone asked him. No one did.

Symra didn’t notice. Her eyes were chained to the image that appeared short of the Aesyr’s digger—that of a golden ring, hanging in midair, about head high.

“Frig…” muttered Helkyria, almost under her breath. “Not there…too circular…”

The golden ring expanded, then shrank, dwindling, dropping, and vanishing into the stone of the canal.

Duhyle wanted to comment on how Helkyria’s efforts might lead to treasure-hunting along the canal…or stories about hidden gold created by the ancients, or even golden rings linked to mysterious powers. He refrained. The single muttered curse—and the flickers of purple-black from the tips of her silver-blond hair—was enough to tell him that she was worried and struggling.

“This…”

Both Duhyle and Symra stiffened—and so did the Aesyr. A tall stern woman appeared before the mechanical digger. Her hair was silver-blond, and her garb was fitted and silvered armor comprised of small diamond-shaped plates that ran from her wrists to her neck and then down to shimmering silver boots. She held an upraised sword whose blade comprised flickering rainbow lightnings. The warrior woman was Helkyria.

“What…?” Symra choked off the exclamation.

Duhyle said nothing, but concentrated on all the monitors and the reaction of the Aesyr. They all appeared as stunned as he was…for several moments.

Then one of the snipers turned and fired at the Helkyria image.

The projectile exploded a half-yard short of the image, and fragments dribbled from midair to the ground. The “projected” Helkyria touched the mechanical digger with the tip of the rainbow-fired blade, and the machine and its operator disintegrated into a pile of granules, but those granules were heavy enough that the light breeze raised no dust at all.

Then the image vanished.

Duhyle turned toward Helkyria. She wasn’t there, yet he’d heard no movement at all.

“Where did she go?” demanded Symra.

“She can’t have gone anywhere.”
Not in the way we know it.
Duhyle checked all the monitors and all the systems. There was no sign of Helkyria. Then he focused on the south outside monitor. The Aesyr were looking at the pile of granules and small fragments of metal and who knew what else.

“Duhyle…”

At the sound of his consort’s voice, Duhyle turned. Helkyria was sitting where she had been.

“Where…what…?”

“We were right. There’s a certain…temporal displacement associated with the canal and the station.” A wry smile crossed her face, and vanished, along with the greenish tints to her hair that signified a sardonic outlook. “There need to be certain…modifications to the synchronizer. For now, anyway.”

“How did you do that?” Duhyle asked.

“Do what?”

“Destroy the digger.”

Helkyria looked at the monitor. “It’s gone.”

“We know. Someone who looked like you destroyed it with a rainbow-flamed sword.”

“I didn’t do it. For a moment, I was somewhere else, surrounded by flashing silver lights. It had to be some sort of temporal displacement.”

Symra looked to Duhyle.

Duhyle shrugged.

“What about the Aesyr?” asked Symra.

“The ones outside are the least of our problems, I fear. Baeldura has threatened to loose the Hammers on Vaena if we do not surrender the station.”

“Tell the First Speaker to threaten to turn Asgard into slag if a single Hammer is loosed on Vanira,” replied Duhyle.

“She already has. Baeldura has reconsidered…for the moment. The First Speaker is pressing for us either to use the secrets of the canal in a way to stop the Aesyr or to allow a negotiated settlement where both the Aesyr and the Vanir share the discoveries.”

“She doesn’t want much,” said Duhyle

“That ‘negotiated’ settlement would be a surrender, ser,” added Symra.

“You’re both right,” replied Helkyria. “That doesn’t change things. We don’t have that much time.”

“Can’t the Aesyr see that using the Hammers will destroy them as well before all that long?” asked Symra.

“They believe that they and all life are doomed anyway, that the ice will sweep down and that the entire Earth will turn to ice, and that the Frost Giants will rule. What matters to them is the glory of the struggle.”

“But we’re not those mythical or metaphorical Frost Giants,” protested Symra. “We’re fighting the ice as well. That’s why you’re here.”

“Facts are always irrelevant to true believers,” interjected Duhyle.

“No,” corrected Helkyria gently, “just those that conflict with their beliefs. The others they use like hammers.”

“Or the Hammers,” returned Duhyle.
What now?
he private-linked.

“You’ll need to make those modifications to the synchronizer. They don’t look too difficult, but I’m not the engineer. The Aesyr are doubtless reporting the destruction of the digger and requesting instructions.”

Duhyle checked the outside monitors again. “The Aesyr look as though they’re pulling back…and rather quickly.”

“That’s not surprising,” noted Helkyria.

“How…if I might ask…” ventured Symra.

“You can…they have reinforcements coming, and they don’t want to destroy their own forces unnecessarily. As for what we will be doing, I’d tell you if I had time. It’s connected with the canal’s control system. Tell the captain that it remains unsafe to leave the station.” Helkyria stood.

Symra did not flee. She did depart as if from unquestioned authority, not even looking back over her shoulder.

Duhyle realized his consort had acquired something…an additional presence, strength. She embodied what he’d seen in the warrior image.

“We’ll need to work as quickly as possible,” Helkyria said. “SatCom has relayed images. There’s a vessel that dwarfs the
Skadira
headed our way.” Helkyria referenced the link.

Duhyle picked the locator up and focused on the image. He swallowed. The dark-hulled warship—for it couldn’t be anything else—looked to be almost a kay in length. “Where did they get that?”

“From the ice in Niefl, I suspect. It’s been refitted, but the lines aren’t Aesyran or Vaniran.”

“We aren’t the only ones trying to decipher the past, are we? Do you think that’s where Thora came up with the idea for the Hammers?”

“It’s possible. It’s also possible that ancient vessel is only a platform that happened to be convenient. Or that something on the vessel led her to develop the theory and the Hammers.”

“That ship has to have been time-protected…like the canal.”

“I didn’t tell you that.” Helkyria smiled and raised her eyebrows, showing the cerise of amusement.

“That’s the only possible explanation. For both that monster vessel and the canal.”

“There’s more than that…but we need to get to work.”

After seeing the satellite image of the massive dark vessel speeding toward Vanira—and the station—Duhyle had to agree, although logically the size of the ship shouldn’t have made any difference.

6 Tenmonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn

Haarlan and his freightrunner didn’t reach the canal station until after sunset, although the sky was only light purple and not full dark. Before Maertyn stepped out of the cab, he slipped his personal credpass through the vehicle’s portable recorder and added a hundred to the total.

“Sir…you didn’t have to do that,” protested Haarlan.

“Your victuals, your company, and your transport are all worth the extra…and I want you to be profitable enough to continue in business.”

“Thank you, Lord Maertyn. I do appreciate it.”

“As do I.” Maertyn smiled. “I’ll open the station door, since I doubt anyone’s expecting me this early.”

“I’ll be along with the first cartons in a moment, sir.”

“Don’t hurry.”

Maertyn stepped out onto the damp blue-gray stone of the canal wall, setting his boots carefully. South of the stone, the snow was close to knee-high, signifying more than a few storms over the past few weeks. He glanced to the north, where more dark clouds were massing. Then, he walked to the station and pressed his hand against the stone, waiting as the south side door opened.

“Hello there!” he called loudly and cheerfully.

Shaenya appeared immediately. “Lord Maertyn! You’re back. We were wondering when you’d come.” She half-turned and called, “Lady! He’s back!”

“So I am, and so is a large load of provisions from Haarlan’s. From the look of the snow and the sky, we’ll be needing them.”

“That we will be.”

“Is that you, Maertyn?” Maarlyna rushed forward and flung her arms around him. “I’m so glad…I worried…we all worried…”

“I’m here, and I’m hale and healthy, if a little hungry.” He kissed her gently on the cheek, then eased away, much as he wanted to wrap his arms around her tightly. “With that storm coming in, we need to let Haarlan unload everything and be on his way.” Maertyn set the shoulder bag beside the door and walked back to the freightrunner, where he picked up one of the remaining cartons and carried it inside the station and down to the lower kitchen area.

He made one more trip carrying provisions, as did Haarlan and Svorak, who had hurried over from the square building that housed the power modulation equipment, before all that he had purchased was unloaded. Then he stood in the station doorway to see Haarlan off.

“Thank you again, Haarlan.”

“My pleasure, Lord Maertyn.” The wiry victualer smiled and nodded. “Good evening.”

Once the freightrunner was headed back eastward, Maertyn closed the door and recovered his shoulder bag.

“I’ll have a right regular supper for you in less than an hour, Lord Maertyn,” said Shaenya.

“Not just for me, I hope.” Maertyn smiled at his wife.

“No, sir. I wouldn’t be forgetting Lady Maarlyna.”

“She never does,” added Maarlyna. “She’s very good to me.”

“You deserve it, dear.” Maertyn looked to Shaenya. “And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Shaenya flushed slightly, then nodded. “Best I be getting on with supper.” She scurried down the ramp.

Walking beside Maarlyna, Maertyn carried the shoulder bag up the ramp to their chamber, where he set it beside the armoire. Then he removed both stunners and slipped them into the top drawer of his dresser, a family heirloom that had originally come from Norlaak. Although it had been an expense he had borne personally, he didn’t regret in the slightest the cost of bringing familiar furnishings to the station, or what he knew it would require to return them all once his research term was over.

“How was your trip?” Maarlyna perched on the end of the bed.

“Long…tedious…difficult. The Ministry wants more concrete results from my research, or they’ll allow the Gaerda to test weapons on the station and canal. I had to fill in for Josef while he was visiting universities…and that meant I had to handle the bud get reallocations…” He went on to give a brief summary of all the “official” events and duties, but he did not mention the incident with the lorry or the events that had led to his taking the “local” tube-train from Caelaarn to Daelmar or anything that had transpired along the way northward. “…and then I stopped at Haarlan’s to order supplies…and I came home.”

“You’ve left out more than you’ve told me,” said Maarlyna with an amused smile.

“Of course. I’ll fill in the details after dinner.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it, you know.”

“I know.”

“Oh…the crate you had shipped arrived last week. I had Svorak put it in the corner of your laboratory. It seemed rather heavy.”

“It is. It has a number of items that we may need in the next few months, and I thought it would be easier to have Rhesten ship them while I was in Caelaarn.”

“Those will fit in with what you haven’t told me.”

“Yes, they will.” Maertyn walked over to the bed, eased Maarlyna to her feet, and held her tightly for a long, long time.

Neither said much in the time before Shaenya rang the chimes for dinner.

After dinner, the two of them settled into the section of the upper level that served as their sitting room, each taking a matching but ancient Laarnian Modern chair of the pair that flanked a low ebony oblong table.

“Matters were very bad in Caelaarn, weren’t they?” offered Maarlyna.

“Why do you say that?” Maertyn replied, keeping an amused tone in his voice.

“Because you were so cheerful when you arrived here. You’re still doing it.”

“That’s because I’m glad to see you.”

“Maertyn…I know that, but I can tell the difference.”

He dropped the smile. “They weren’t so bad as they could have been, but they weren’t good. Ashauer met me at the tube-train station and warned me to be careful. He’s never done that. Tauzn…the Minister of Protective Services—”

“I know who he is.”

“He wants to succeed D’Onfrio as EA, and I’m guessing that he wants to make a political issue out of my research.”

“He can’t do that very effectively, can he? Your project is very low-budget. There must be hundreds larger and more wasteful. Besides, you’re good at defending…” Her words dropped off.

For a moment, there was silence.

Finally, Maarlyna asked, “You couldn’t defend matters…or me…could you, if you were dead? How many…?”

“Three…four times…” he admitted.

“That many? How did you…did you kill anyone?”

“I managed not to kill anyone. One Gaerda operative who tried to force me off the road in an ice storm died when he lost control following me and crashed into an oak tree.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I…drove the runabout through the Laarnian Martyrs’ Memorial.”

“Oh…Maertyn…” Her voice was soft, yet warm. “Is it because you’re a lord?”

“Because I’m a lord?” He laughed gently.

“Tauzn is courting the rabble. His type always does. If he can prove something involving D’Onfrio’s appointees, especially implicating a lord, then that will strengthen his support, especially among them.”

“Yes, lords must be above reproach, yet be able to get away with anything unscathed.” Maertyn regretted the cynicism as soon as he had spoken.

“And their ladies…”

“You are above reproach,” he said.

“Many might not think so.”

He frowned. “How can you say that?”

“Maertyn…I’d like you to answer a question.”

“If I can.” He offered a smile, although the seriousness of her tone worried him more than he could have said.

“I’m not me, am I?”

“Of course you’re you. Who else would you be?”

“I’ve never been that precise with words.” A sad smile crossed her face. “Of course I am who I am. My name is Maarlyna, but I am not the Maarlyna who once was. I read the journal, the one in script, in your armoire. The writing could easily be mine, but it’s not quite the same, and I remember the events written there, but my memories are as though I’d been told of them, and the way the words fall on the page is not quite the way I would write them.”

He laughed softly. “I wouldn’t write what I wrote five years ago in the same way I would now. None of us would. Why would you be any different?”

“Maertyn…” Her deep amber eyes focused on him, warm and intent.

He stood, then moved over to her chair, where he lifted her into an embrace, wrapping his arms around her for a long time. Then he stepped back, still holding her hands. “What is it? What has upset you so much?”

“You’ve had some disturbing things befall you…dangers…” She paused, then continued. “So have I. It’s different…but I worry. I’ve worried more than I’ve told you.”

“I’ve sensed it, but I never wanted to press you.”

“I know that, and I appreciate it.” After the slightest pause, she went on. “I never said much when you suggested you heard or sensed things about the ice calving or tsunamis striking the canal walls. At first, I just thought I was imagining things, or that it was because of all the medical procedures…but they didn’t fade away. Instead, they got stronger as I did.”

“You sensed them as well? I wondered.”

“Not exactly. I saw shadowy figures…not shadowy, really, because they were more than shadows. They weren’t at all white and ghost-like…”

“Was one of them a woman in red who was neither young or old?”

Maarlyna’s mouth opened. “You saw her and didn’t say anything?”

“I saw her just a few hours ago…when I got off the tube-train in Daelmar. She warned me about the Gaerda assassin waiting for me. Then she vanished.” Maertyn saw no point in mentioning the earlier brief glimpse of the woman in red.

“The assassin…?”

“I stunned him in a way that everyone thought he’d fainted or had a seizure. The Reserve guards found a nerver in his hand. No one said anything, except that they didn’t see any reason to detain me.”

“People here respect you…unlike in Caelaarn.”

Maertyn didn’t want to explore that. There wasn’t any point in it. “What about the woman in red…or the others?”

“She showed me…how to lock the doors and the windows. Just from the inside. They can’t be locked from outside. I can’t do that, anyway.”

“How…?”

“I can’t explain it. I can only do it.” She eased her hands out of his and walked to where the window was.

That had to be from memory, thought Maertyn since it was well after dark, and he certainly couldn’t see the window from any light being passed through the stone.

Maarlyna touched the stone and the “window” appeared and opened, with the cold air from the north sweeping into the chamber. After a moment, she touched the stone again, holding her hand there for several moments. “Now…you try to open it.”

He stepped forward and stood beside her, reaching out to place his fingers against the stone that was neither hot nor cold to his touch.

Nothing happened. The stone did not change.

“You see.” Maarlyna reached out and pressed her hand against the wall, then quickly pulled it away. “Try it now.”

Maertyn did. The stone flowed back on itself, and cold air rushed past them strongly enough to disarray Maarlyna’s hair. He touched the wall again, and the window closed.

“Well…if anyone tried to attack us here, you could keep them out.”

“That…that was what she said.”

“She talked to you. What else did she say?”

“Not really talked…it was more like I heard her words in my head.”

Maertyn pursed his lips. Had he just thought he’d heard the woman in red speak to him? Had her words really been spoken? He’d thought her words so clear for being so soft…was that because he’d heard them in his mind?

“Maertyn?”

“I think I heard her in the same way…I just hadn’t realized it.” Should he tell Maarlyna what else the ice-sport or ghost or…whatever she was…had said? “She said that our fates were intertwined.” That was close enough without putting pressure on Maarlyna. “Did she say who or what she was?”

Maarlyna frowned, tilted her head to the left, then finally said, “No…not exactly…but I had the feeling that she belongs here.”

“Here?”

“To the station…the canal. How else would she have known how to show me the locking and unlocking?”

How indeed?
“Can you show me?”

Maarlyna shook her head…sadly, it seemed to Maertyn. “It’s not like that. It’s inside my head, my thoughts. It’s like she put a pattern there. When I think of that pattern and touch the stone, I can lock or unlock the doors and windows.”

“Can you do anything else with the pattern?”

“Not that I know of.”

Maertyn embraced Maarlyna again, murmuring in her ear, “That’s all right. She must have given you that ability for a reason, and, from what she told me, it’s for both of us. I just wish we knew why.”

Maarlyna hugged him back. “I’m so glad you understand.”

“How could I not?” He lowered his head and kissed her neck. “How could I not?”

Even so, later in the darkness, as he lay there beside her in the bed that had been his great-grandsire’s, he couldn’t help but wonder and worry.

Why had the silvery woman in red sought out Maarlyna? Why?