Gravity's Revenge (23 page)

29

Provost’s Workshop

The Bright Palm’s head rolled onto a floor strewn with crystal shards, spills of potent-smelling fluids, papyrus scrolls, and glittering knickknacks. The windows were the white of snow, a view of the plateau below the Grindstone.

Fos heaved one of the double doors, and Tethiel shoved his back into the other half. Before they could close it, a spear stuck between, and the slabs bucked inward. Hiresha could sense the Bright Palms on the other side of the stone, a paleness in the shapes of men.
Their light is more felt than seen.

The spellsword strained to shut the door, shoulder pressed against stone, sword maneuvering to hack at the spear shaft. Across from him, Tethiel was losing ground, his boots squeaking over the tile. Blood trickled down his arm from the arrow wound.

Fos glanced to the other man and said, “Tell me you just happen to have the same brand as the Lord of the Feast.”

“If you’ve breath for questions…” Tethiel gasped. “…brace my side of the door.”

Hiresha picked her way through the scattered debris. So much edge-of-life excitement thrummed through her veins that she was numb to the wreckage of her workshop. She stepped over gold dragonflies designed to Attract and crush rice weevils, enchanted nose rings to keep bulls in place, a staff studded with diamonds that would detect other gemstones in the nearby soil, wax tablets with smudged craft designs, and boards of pins with colored string in a crude representation of magic scripts.

While searching for an enchanted rug she would need to reach her jewels, Hiresha felt a surge of spine-curling foreboding.
Gravity is about to return.
She thought of shouting a warning to the men, but instead she questioned how she could be certain.
It is only a feeling.
It felt like a swarm of mosquitoes landing on her arms and neck.

Hiresha grabbed the corner of an operations table. Like the one in her dream, the basalt rock had an indentation of the average human figure. She wrapped a hand around a golden shackle embedded in the stone, and there she hung as every object on the floor fell toward the wall.

Fos and Tethiel tumbled from the doors. Shutters patterned with jewel-carving diagrams all slid sideways over windows. The views of the
Skiarri
Mountains
were shut out, and gloom seeped from the dark walls.

Tethiel stood, his feet in shelves on the wall. “You do get used to the tumbling after a few short, short days.”

One door had fallen open, and a Bright Palm crawled in. Fos wobbled to his feet and lifted his sword. It shone blue in the light from Hiresha’s earrings.

“My heart,” Tethiel said to Hiresha as she dangled from the side of the operations table, “how did you know that Down was about to change?”

“This is no time for speculation. Attend to the Bright Palm.”

“I already have.” Shadows clawed their way up Tethiel, but before the darkness could shred him into nothing, a second image of him appeared behind the Bright Palm, ramming the blade of another skating shoe into his glowing neck.

The master illusionist faded again from view before the Bright Palm had time to topple. Fos had to guard his blind side as a second Bright Palm charged in with wooden cudgel swinging. With a skin tone similar in shade to the darkness of the room, the tribesman seemed a branching collection of shining veins, a leaping vine of white thorns.
 
 

Trinkets and shards tinkled their way down the wall. Hiresha felt herself shifting, her legs now angled toward the door which slammed shut. Not wishing to be as useless as clothes hanging from a windowsill, Hiresha dropped down onto a couch, intended for enchantresses hard at sleep. From there she reached a wall and climbed its shelves.

“My heart.” Tethiel’s voice whispered in her ear, though she could not see him. “Warn us when you sense gravity changing direction.”

“I can’t tell. I can’t be sure.”

Hiresha pulled a metal construct of an anaconda from a shelf. She had designed it to test a principal of replacing guardsmen with enchantments, and she realized she would never have a better opportunity for a trial.

Assuming Tethiel could hear her low voice, she went on, “It is only a feeling, as unreliable as any increase of adrenaline in the blood.”

“Trust your fears,” Tethiel said.

“In that case, you might wish to hold onto something.”

Hiresha was feeling a surge of dizzy anxiousness. She thought it might have been from handling a snake of silver and bronze scales that was longer than she, though Hiresha took care to only touch its underside, not the circular designs on its back.

“Fos,” she said, “mind the gravity.”

The Bright Palm must have heard her, too, and when the debris clattered back to the floor, he hit the stone tiles running. He swerved around a table and into an antechamber, toward Hiresha.

Fos lowered himself to one knee then sprang at the Bright Palm. Hiresha could tell Fos had missed the timing on his Lightening enchantment when he traveled only a foot into the air. He threw Hiresha a look of agonized apology.

Hiresha pressed a button on the anaconda’s head then laid the snake lengthwise in front of her. Standing up, she was surprised to see a second image of herself cowering against the shelf, on the other side of the ankle-high barrier of the snake.

“Tethiel,” she whispered, “that sniveling portrayal of me is an insult.”

“It is a work of art, as is any illusion of you.” Tethiel stepped out of a doorway of shadows beside her. “The Bright Palm cannot see the real us, or the snake.”

The tribesman raced over the metal anaconda, but the construct moved faster. Enchantment Attracted its coils to his flesh. It slithered around him with the sound of clattering coins. Binding spells constricted the Bright Palm’s limbs. He clawed his way forward with his only free arm, dragging himself and the snake, to the illusion of the enchantress. When he grasped at her ankle, the image melted into a sludge of darkness.

Tethiel tsked. “A man of flesh and red blood might have known you are not a woman to cower. He might’ve been wary of the trap. Bright Palms have no such human instincts. That is their weakness. Good reflexes, but no fears, no intuitions.”

“Their leader shows no such deficiency. She has out-thought me at every turn.”

“Then she is a quick thinker,” Tethiel said, “but instincts are the quickest of thoughts. A Bright Palm’s mind may run at a fast pace, but with premonitions, my heart, you have the power to teleport.”

In a blink, Tethiel vanished. He reappeared—
Or at least another illusion of himself—
at Fos’s side. The Lord of the Feast waved to the Bright Palm entangled in the anaconda.

 
“We have some shoulders in there that need beheading. Oh, look, you’ve let those lie too long.”

The other Bright Palm ripped the blade from the back of his neck and stood. He raised his fists and began to circle the spellsword, darting back and forth.

Hiresha took the opportunity to search for a certain carpet. She was not comfortable with what Tethiel had said.
I am hardly a quick thinker. Not half-drunk as I am on fatigue.
She must have stumbled past the carpet more than once before spotting it scrunched between a globe made of gemstones and an enclosed bed of velvet for the fennec. She hoped he, at least, was safe.

Gilt thread wove through the carpet in the pattern of the empire’s crest, an oasis with palm trees. She pulled it into a side room with a diamond design on the ceiling in white marble.

Unclasping her pocket, Hiresha lifted her red diamond to chest level and stepped onto the enchanted carpet. It Lightened her, and she leaped eight feet into the air. She thanked the Fate Weaver when the magic in the ceiling detected the red diamond, and a secret alcove opened. She caught herself on the ledge.

Three jewel sashes draped around her like banners. Their velvet glistened with the shades of fading twilight, and Hiresha’s fingers ran down their smoothness. Relief tightened her throat as she fitted two sashes over her head, one wrapped under each arm.

The enchantress may have been wearing only a frayed shift under her coat and no stockings to speak of, but at last she felt fully clothed. Not one to under prepare, she took a vial of enchanted diamond dust from a niche and slipped it into a pocket.

Back in the main room of the workshop, Hiresha saw Fos’s sword connect with the Bright Palm. Fos stepped back and yanked to open a savage gash, only for the Bright Palm to heal himself in seconds.

“Worse than a practice sword. I want something that’ll hit like a rhino.” Fos tossed the blade at his assailant to drive him back, and then the spellsword reached behind him into a wall case. He pulled out an angular post made of stone. It had a hilt on one end and was in truth a massive sword. Tendons in Fos’s neck stood out as he tried to swing the jasper weapon. The thick blade thudded into the floor. “Ahhh! I can’t Lighten it. Hiresha!”

“And I don’t have time to replenish its magic.” Hiresha was thrilled to see Fos reach for the jasper weapon she had crafted for him. She knew he would be ferocious with it, and despite her words she wondered if after all she might have time to secure the workshop, to sleep, dream, and empower the stone sword. Her gaze flicked from the door lazing open and back to the shuttered windows.

Tethiel appeared beside her. He no longer looked injured. His coat was undamaged and unsoiled, and twisting patterns within the fabric extended into the gloom around him. He said, “You fear a Bright Palm.”

“Sheamab,” Hiresha said. “She must know we’re here by now. She has to have a plan.”

“Then what is yours?”

“I don’t have time to think of one.”

Hiresha watched the Bright Palm dragging his fellow entwined in the snake. The constrictor and man scraped their way past the door. She thought she heard the bumping of approaching feet from the Grindstone entryway. Her eyes turned again to the window shutters, where patterns of jewel designs covered the slats.

Tethiel followed her gaze. “You do have a plan. You merely haven’t accepted it yet.”

The Bright Palm let down the bound tribesman to throw open the second half of the door. Five glowing figures launched out of the pit and landed upright, and they carried wide urns such as might be used for cooking oil.

The urns were thrown, and they smashed with the burbling glop-glop sounds of liquid spreading over the workshop floor. Bright Palm Sheamab strode to the doorway, a lamp in hand with a flame flickering from its nozzle.

“You survived ice, Enchantress. What of fire?”

The Bright Palm hurled the lamp down. Fire crackled, sizzled, then roared into an inferno that sucked the breath from Hiresha’s lungs with its scorching malice. The Bright Palms hauled the doors shut.

30

Grindstone

Hiresha had already started running to the windows. She ripped open a shutter. The crystal in the Grindstone was reinforced by enchantment. Hiresha had no doubt the Bright Palms had tried to smash it in from the outside and failed, but the enchantress now had her full arsenal of jewels.

She patted her fingers over her left jewel sash until she found the chrysoprase she needed. Pinching the gem between thumb and forefinger, she pressed it against the crystal. She tried to shout at the men to stand back but could not hear herself over the fire.

The gem pulsed green as its Attraction spell attuned itself to the resonance of the crystal window. The transparent surface shivered in time to the sequenced pulling of the magic.

Fos hefted the jasper sword into the holster behind his back. He lifted a sleeve to his mouth, coughing in the greasy smoke. Beside him, Tethiel held two pairs of skate shoes, his eyes tearing, his teeth red from the nearing wall of fire.

Cracks ran through the window. It shattered, shards plinking against Hiresha’s throat. Air whooshed through, and the flames surged around them. She was the first to crawl through the window, Fos boosting her.

The sharp thrill of mountain coolness closed around her. She was standing on the rounded side of the Grindstone. Smoke boiled up from her feet, Tethiel climbing out of the vent. Fos pulled himself out last.

They were rotating to the crest of the building’s circle, snowbound cliffs to their left and the Crystal Ballroom to their right. It looked like there were people inside the dome, but Hiresha did not have time for more than a glance. A Bright Palm had been waiting for them.

He sprinted over the turning building, a sickle sword held behind him in each hand. Bamboo armor covered his chest. Fos brandished his stone sword against him but could not swing it fast enough to do more than use it as a shield.

“Run,” Hiresha said. She was not even concerned that Fos could not yet swing his sword or Tethiel cast his illusions under the streaming clearness of the daylight. With all the jewels she carried, no single Bright Palm could frighten her again. The joy she felt from escaping Sheamab’s fires also lofted her, and her legs sprinted over the rolling building without effort.

The Bright Palm matched her speed and gained ground on Tethiel, who ran with a bowlegged stride. His sleeve had dissolved in the daylight, once again revealing his arrow wound. His coat tails flapped inches from the Bright Palm’s curving blades.

Hiresha tidied up that problem by dropping an Attraction jewel. The Bright Palm collapsed, and the Grindstone carried him downward and out of sight. The building picked up speed as they continued to run.

“I’m sorry. For not making the jump in there,” Fos said. He craned his neck around so he could glance at Hiresha with his good eye. “The more I focus, the harder the timing gets.”

“You must try to think less,” Tethiel said between huffs. “It is not your strength.”

“And yours isn’t running. Not as easy as murdering people after dark?” Fos’s scowl curled under the bandage on his face. “Hiresha, why is
he
here?”

Part of her wondered the same thing.
Why would the provost of the
Mindvault
Academy
and the Lord of the Feast be running side by side on the Grindstone?
She thought Fos deserved an honest answer. “Lord Tethiel and I rescued
Morimound
City
together. In a way, he saved Alyla’s life.”

“Please, my heart, I wish you wouldn’t spread distasteful rumors about my heroism.”

“Alyla...” Fos ran ahead on the building’s curve for a better look down at the crystal ballroom. “…is she in there?”

“Doubtless so,” Hiresha said. “Sheamab must’ve stolen my idea—May the Fate Weaver cut her life’s strand.”

“Nothing is more upsetting than the obvious,” Tethiel said, “but I must mention we’re running in circles. Even if the scenery is lovely.”

He nodded down to the splattered remains of the Bright Palm that was circling upward. The Grindstone grazed the plateau at its lowest point, and the downturn had not treated the Bright Palm gently. Hiresha and the men had to jump over the grisly results. She took this to mean that the magic of light could not save them from overwhelming compression.
A fall from any respectable cliff would do them a world of good.

“Even after their light fades, their blood is clear,” she said. “Most fascinating.”

Fos asked, “Shouldn’t we head down to the Ballroom? I’m not going to let them force Alyla onto the Skyway.”

“Sheamab will be waiting for us there. She’ll see the smoke from the broken window and know we’ve escaped.” Hiresha’s hand strayed to a pocket weighing down one side of her coat. She touched the angled hardness of the rector’s dagger. “We need a safe place to rest, so I can have your sword empowered. See to plucking that arrow from Tethiel. Perhaps an hour of sleep.”

“And my eye,” Fos said, “I feel like I’m looking at the world through the bottom of a broken jug.”

“Eyes take time, but I can tend to any infection.” Her fingers traced the contour of the key dagger in her pocket. “I might know where we should go, but I’m less than certain.”

Tethiel said, “I trust your uncertainty over any other woman’s firmest belief.”

Veins of quartz sped by in the rock under their feet. To their right, the
Recurve
Tower
appeared even more peaceful than normal with fewer of its chimneys smoking.

Hiresha said, “Tradition forced me to run on the Grindstone with my graduating class. I find the present company far more invigorating, but alas, we must disembark. Keep a tight grip on a window frame.”

The enchantress turned around and reclined on the stone that whisked her downward. From this side she had a view of the frozen
Waterfly
River
wrapping upward through the air to rest atop a pillar in a spherical lake. It looked like a frozen snowball on top of a post. Hiresha was thankful the Attraction enchantments at the center of the sphere still functioned because she intended to put the frozen lake to use.

When she felt in danger of sliding forward, Hiresha rolled facedown and pressed either palm into the window frame. The crystal reflected the jagged peaks of the mountains. The Grindstone turned her to the vertical point, then past it to an overhang. Her legs dangled, and she caught a wicked draft up her coat.

The trick,
she remembered from years back,
is holding onto the window long enough that you don’t break a leg on the fall, but not so long that you’re dragged under the snow pile and crushed beneath the Grindstone.