Wheel of the Infinite (28 page)

Karuda lay on the grass near the base of the causeway. As Rian watched he
stirred feebly and groaned. Rian contemplated the unfamiliar sky in
exasperation.
It
would be him
. He swung over the low balustrade and jumped to the ground, landing awkwardly. Karuda groaned again as Rian rolled him over. The noble had a bleeding gash on his temple, but he blinked and opened his eyes.

Leaning over him, Rian said flatly, “Guess what.”

Slowly, Karuda pushed himself up on his arms. He stared at the churning sky. “The Rite . . .” he managed to say.

“Yeah, the Rite. But at least that little problem with the Koshans having too much power in the Imperial system is all taken care of. Too bad Mirak isn’t around to appreciate it.” Rian turned away in disgust, limping toward the steps that led back up to the causeway. If Karuda had survived inside the Marai, the others must have too.

* * *

Maskelle’s head hurt. She knew she was still in the Marai before she opened her eyes. The gritty stone under her cheek resonated with the temple’s power, but something was terribly wrong. She pushed herself up on her arms, lifted her head.

The sky was grey, the clouds dark and angry, as if a storm had just passed. It was almost familiar.

The breath caught in her throat. Her vision in the Illsat Keo.

“Oh, no,” she breathed. “Oh, no, oh, no.” She laid her hand flat against the stone of the pavement and extended her awareness outward, through the courts of the Marai, inner, first outer, lunar and solar, to the outer wall just before the moat—there it stopped. “This isn’t happening.”

Rian was kneeling at her side then, one hand under her arm to hold her up. She stared at him incredulously. “What are you doing here? I sent you away from this.”

He was looking worriedly up at the strange sky. “Just lucky, I guess.”

She shook her head. Nothing worked, nothing. “Help me up.”

He pulled her to her feet and she wrapped an arm around his waist. Leaning on him, she buried her face against his neck, breathing in the scent of warm human sweat. It was another connection to the world as it had been. She took a deep breath. “We’re in trouble.”

“I figured that out,” he said into her hair.

She lifted her head and looked toward the end of the passage. “I need to see outside.”

Running footsteps in the court made them both turn. It was Rastim, white-faced and anxious. “What’s happened?” he said, low-voiced, as he reached them.

Maskelle shook her head. “I need to get to the first solar tower.”

Rastim picked up her staff and tried to hand it to her. She shook her head. Cut off from the spirits and the power of the temples, it was only so much dead wood and silver now. His mouth twisting in distress, he leaned it against the wall.

All the lamps had gone out along the colonnade, and as they neared the corner tower it was almost too dark to see. Maskelle’s knees were weak and she waited to feel the Marai’s force start to fade. The temple would die around her until the stone was nothing but a shell.

They reached the entrance to the western tower and Rian started up first. The chambers off the stairwell were quiet and the air unnaturally still. When they came out on the gallery, Maskelle moved forward to lean on the parapet.

It was the plain of her vision, vast as time, stretching away into the dark horizon under the purple-grey storm-churned sky. In the distance a wind drove a wall of dust across the giant paving blocks that formed it, and from the height of the tower she could see a mountain range in the distance. The city she had seen rose like smaller mountains around them. The nearest structure was a strange bulbous shape, like three balls of stone perched atop each other. It was decorated only with wide bands of unfamiliar, meaningless geometric carving. It was so strange that it was frightening to look at, and Maskelle found it hard to draw a full breath until she turned away.

Rian asked her quietly, “The Rite brought us here, didn’t it? Something went wrong, like you thought.”

“The Rite didn’t bring us here.”

“You mean ... it’s an illusion?” Rastim’s voice was hopeful.

Ariaden are the eternal optimists
, she thought ruefully. She shook her head. “It’s not an illusion.”

“Oh.” Rastim flattened his hands against the parapet uneasily, seeking reassurance from the familiar stone. “Then how ... ?”

“This is our world. We haven’t gone anywhere. They brought this to us. This is what the disruption to the Rite was for. It let them do this.”

“No, really,” Rastim said, as if hoping she would change her mind. Rian said nothing, looking out at the alien landscape.

“Yes, really.” Maskelle touched the Marai’s power again tentatively, waiting for the inevitable. But the temple wasn’t dying yet.

It felt, in fact, a little stronger.

The center doesn‘t move.

She realized both men were staring at her, that Rastim had spoken again and she hadn’t heard a word. She said, “I just heard the Adversary.”

“And that means?” Rastim prompted worriedly.

She shook her head and turned back into the tower. Behind her, she heard Rian say, “It means we’re not dead yet.”

Maskelle went back down the stairs, down the gallery toward the inner court. She could hear voices, hushed and frightened, and when she came out into the open below the central tower, she saw a group of about forty people, huddled in the gallery and the portico around the tower. Some of the younger priests were on the upper level where they could look out over the plain. She saw one pointing, another shaking his head in disbelief.

And the Marai’s stone throbbed with the temple’s heartbeat, stronger with each step.

The rest of the Ariaden were there, and Therasa and Firac hurried toward her. “What’s happened?”

The question was echoed by the others. It was a mixed group, most of them Koshans. “I’m not sure,” Maskelle told them. What she wasn’t sure about was whether she was lying or not. She was beginning to think she had misunderstood again.

She stepped past them, through the portico and into the tower. There was no one in the outer vestibule and she went around the wall to the chamber of the Rite.

Vigar and the other Voices were there, many of the older ones still lying on the floor in shock or unconsciousness. Vigar was just climbing to his feet with the help of a young nun. But Maskelle had eyes only for what lay on the chamber floor beyond him.

The Celestial One lay as still as a dead man, his head pillowed on a bundled-up robe, two of the younger Voices anxiously leaning over him. She went to his side and they made way for her. He wasn’t breathing and she touched his face gently. She whispered, “I’m sorry.” The Marai’s power must be in her imagination, or it was some temporary state that would quickly fade.

She felt Vigar standing behind her. “He may come back when the shock is less,” he said, his voice rough.

She didn’t look up. “Come back to what?”

Vigar touched her shoulder and she finally looked at the center of the room.

The Wheel of the Rite was whole and almost undisturbed. A path was torn through the edge of the outer ring, through the border protection symbols and into the eastern rise. Someone must have been thrown into it when the shock of the change took place.

But that little disruption was nothing. The Rite was nearly intact and still waiting for its culmination.
I was right
, she thought.
It came from somewhere else, not the Rite. At least, not our Rite
. Maskelle looked at Vigar. “We didn’t do this.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She felt a little of the tightness in her chest ease. She took a deep breath.

“Who did?” one of the other Voices said quietly. “That’s the question.”

We return to the basics of our philosophy
, Maskelle thought. It was the first lesson of the first step on the Koshan Path.
When you seek an answer, first define the question
. She said, “That will do for a start.”

Maskelle got to her feet and walked back out to the portico. The strange purple tint of the sky gave the carvings an unfamiliar cast, but the Marai was still itself. Rastim was with the other Ariaden, giving them reassurances she could see he didn’t believe. Rian moved to stand next to her. “Over there,” he said softly, nodding toward the west side of the court.

Mirak was there, in the shelter of the colonnade, standing with another man dressed as a courtier whom she didn’t recognize. “Ah, that’s all I needed,” Maskelle said under her breath. “I thought he was outside the boundary.”

“So did I.” Rian’s expression was grim. “He must have run back down the causeway.”

Ancestors, Raith is here too
, Maskelle realized. The Celestial Throne and his most favored courtiers and advisors had been here for their part of the invocations. She saw Karuda, battered and bleeding, standing with three other Palace Guards. Most of the temple guards would have been outside in the crowd, but a small contingent of Palace Guards would have come with the Celestial Throne into the temple.

Vigar stepped out onto the portico and stood looking up at the sky. “The woman Marada . .. Whoever sent her . . .”

Maskelle nodded. “The disruptions to the Rite were part of this. There was a second Wheel, and those symbols were of this place.”

“We have to know how they learned enough of the Rite to do this.”

Maskelle couldn’t argue with that. Knowing how meant knowing who. She could feel Vigar’s eyes boring into her. Then he said, “You are the Voice of the Adversary.”

“Only in name.”

“In name and power.”

“And authority?” She looked at him, lifting a brow inquiringly. She was holding her breath, half in dread, half in anticipation.

He stepped back and gave her the full ninth-degree bow, the obeisance and respect due to the chief religious of the Koshan temples and the Celestial Empire.

Maskelle’s glance flicked around the court. They had all seen, the seventh-level priests, the two other Voices who had followed Vigar out into the court, Karuda and Mirak.

She nodded to Vigar. “Go back to the Celestial One. We can try to summon the Healing Spirits; that may help him return faster.”

Vigar’s brows lifted. “Can the Healing Spirits answer our call after what has been done?”

As if I know
, Maskelle thought grimly. “I heard the Adversary earlier. If he can reach us, they can.” Of course, the Adversary was far more persistent and far more ferocious than any of the other Ancestors. It might only be lingering after the others had gone.
No, don’t think that
. Those thoughts were the first step toward giving in, and she didn’t intend to give in. Not now, not while the Marai’s heart still beat.

Vigar nodded, thoughtful, and turned back to the tower. When he had gone, Rian said, low-voiced, “What was that about?”

“When the Celestial One is dead, the Voice of the Adversary is the chief religious of the Celestial Empire.” She looked around the court of the Marai glumly. “The last part of which we seem to be standing on.”

Rian stared. “The Celestial One’s dead?”

“For now.” She shook her head. “There’s dead and there’s dead. While the Marai is still alive, while I can still hear the Adversary, he may come back.”

“So Vigar just told you you’re in charge of this . . . this . . .”

“Disaster? That’s what the Adversary is for.” Her mouth made a dry smile. “The tasks no one else wants.”

Rian let out his breath. “We’re going to need guards, lookouts. Without the moat, the outer wall isn’t much protection.”

“You take care of that.”

Rian jerked his chin at Karuda. “What’s he going to say about it?”

“Whatever you tell him to.” She motioned for Karuda to come to her.

He crossed the court toward them and bowed to her, to the correct degree. She said, “You take your orders from Rian now.”

He inclined his head, and without waiting for further signs of acceptance, Maskelle went back to the central tower.

The dry wind tore at Rian’s hair as he stood outside the Marai’s low wall. In the distance he could see the unfamiliar shape of the mountain range. There were dark clouds so low over them they brushed the cone-shaped peaks. The nearest building was only a few hundred yards away. It was shaped like two giant stone balls standing next to each other, with three open bridges connecting them, the whole about as tall as the Marai’s central tower. From here he could see an opening in the base of the nearer ball, large enough to drive four wagons through side by side.

Rian glanced at Lord Karuda. The Kushorit were afraid to approach the strange city. Rian couldn’t blame them for it; he was terrified of the thought himself. Standing here, outside the low wall of the Marai, he could feel his heart pounding like one of the Temple Dancers’ drums. Karuda’s face was as immobile as a statue’s, but Rian had the feeling the noble wasn’t any happier about this than he was.

Karuda caught Rian’s eye and made an “after you” gesture. Rian lifted a brow in appreciation, then started to walk.

After only a moment, Karuda followed, and after a much longer moment, the six Palace Guards who had been chosen to accompany them followed him. Only three of them had bows, the most useful weapon if anything came at them across the open ground. Most of the guards who had accompanied the Celestial Throne had only been armed with short swords. The temple guards had been outside the wall, helping keep the crowds in order, and there had been no need to have more than a ceremonial detachment of the Palace Guard inside the temple with the Throne.

Rian squinted, trying to see inside the dark opening in the wall as they covered the distance toward it. He wished that someone in the temple had had a distance glass; it would have come in very handy. More detail of the building’s decoration was visible now. He could make out the angular designs on the bands of roundels carved on the wide part of the ball sections. There was no sign of life. No hint of Marada’s people, if it had been her work that had done this. No birds, no insects even. The city was utterly quiet except for the wind and the noise they themselves made.

If anything did come at them, their only advantage was that they would see it across this open expanse.
And that’s only while the light holds
, Rian thought. The sky, purple-grey with angry clouds, had been getting gradually darker for the past hour at least.

“We’ll be perfect targets,” Karuda said grimly, obviously thinking along the same lines.

“We’re perfect targets anywhere in the Marai,” Rian pointed out.

Karuda drew a sharp breath, then shook his head. “I know.” They walked in silence for a time, then Karuda said, “So. Are we enemies?”

Rian didn’t answer immediately, trying to gauge the man’s intent. The wind pulled at their clothes and one of the men walking behind sneezed at the dust in it. Karuda was looking ahead toward the building and Rian couldn’t read his expression. Finally Rian said, “That depends on you, doesn’t it? And Mirak.”

“Mirak is acting for the Celestial Throne.”

“The Celestial Throne can’t help us now.” Rian jerked his head back toward the Marai, where Maskelle was. “She can.”

Karuda didn’t have to ask who he meant. “The chief religious of the Empire serves the Throne. Does she?”

“If she didn’t, I think you’d know by now.”

Karuda lifted an ironic brow. “That is probably true. Unfortunately.”

Rian thought Karuda realized as well as he did that this was no time for Court machinations, when the Court no longer existed and they might all be dead within the day or the hour, but he couldn’t give over all suspicion yet.
The problem is, some people are just that stupid, and Mirak may be one of them
. “What exactly does Mirak think she’s going to do?”

Karuda looked into the distance and finally shook his head once, as if in dismissal. “Make an agreement with our enemy.”

Karuda didn’t sound certain at all, as if he wasn’t any more attuned to the Chancellor’s thinking processes than Rian was. Rian didn’t find that terribly comforting. “We don’t know who our enemy is.”

“I know that.”

“Well, maybe we’ll know soon.”

“Or we’ll be dead.”

“Then it won’t be our problem.”

Karuda’s short bark of laughter held no mirth.

Even if they were never attacked, Rian knew they had only a limited time here. Unless the storm overhead broke, the only water was in the double reflecting pools on either side of the causeway and the other small basins in the temple courts. The first solar tower contained a storeroom with bags of rice and taro root and some bundles of sugar cane, which were used to pay the temple servants, and at the moment this was their only source of food. The Temple Master was sorting it out and tallying the amounts now, and soon they would know just how many days’ supply they had. If this place even had days.

There was no way to approach the building subtly, no possible cover to take, so they simply walked toward the doorway. As they drew closer, Rian was relieved to see that appearances hadn’t lied; the place did seem deserted. Grey dust had gathered in drifts along the edges of the walls, and this close he could see there were cracks in the carved roundels and some of the windows above them had pieces broken from the sides. Whatever lay beyond the wide doorway was lost in shadow.

Rian reached it first and stopped just inside the archway, letting his eyes adjust. This was the most dangerous moment, when something could come at him out of that darkness. But nothing moved except the dust and the wind.

The shadows lightened to reveal an open, empty chamber.
Well, it’s not going to take as long to look through it as I thought
, he realized, not sure whether he was disappointed or relieved.

It was a vast space, taking up the whole of the building, the walls curving to the dome high overhead. Wan light came through the small windows, throwing odd speckled patterns on the grey mottled stone. The place smelled thickly of dust, age, dead stale air. Rian stepped inside tentatively, then moved to the side, following the curve of the wall. High in the far side, he could see the round openings for the bridges that connected it with the second part of the structure.

Karuda and the others fanned out, looking around, equally mystified.

Rian touched the stone of the wall. It was cool and the surface was rough, lightly pitted. He dug at the dust with his boot, exposing the place where the wall joined the pavement. The seam was as close as that between the paving blocks outside. He had thought the Kushorit were the masters of stonework, but whoever had built this city had obviously been even more skilled.

“Nothing,” one of the men whispered, looking up at the height above.

“No bats, no birds, no spiders,” Karuda said, glancing around at the dust-strewn pavement.

Rian knew that wasn’t what the man meant. “No,” he told Karuda. “No stairs, no ladders.”

They returned to the temple, entering through what had been the north side water gate in the outer wall. Leaving the smooth paving blocks for the more familiar stone of the steps was a relief, and Rian rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the feeling of having a target painted on his back. Karuda paused to speak to the sentries posted at the gate and Rastim, who had been hovering nearby, hurried to Rian’s side. The Ariaden had been brave enough to come out a short distance onto the pavement, which was more than most of the Kushorit were willing to do, but he hadn’t quite dared to follow Rian and the others all the way to the first building. Rastim asked worriedly, “Did you see anything?”

Rian swallowed a sarcastic answer and said, “No, it was empty. Completely empty.” Rastim was, in his way, trying hard to be helpful, though about the only thing he had been good for so far was keeping Rian company while he walked around and saw just exactly how terrible the situation was. Rian explained briefly what they had seen in the first building. The other half of it, the second ball that was connected to the first by the bridges, had not had an outside door.

Rastim rubbed his chin, puzzled. “Wood,” he said. “The inner floors were all of wood, and it’s been so long it’s turned to dust.”

“It’s possible,” Rian conceded. “Funny the trees haven’t grown back after all this time.”

“It won’t help,” Karuda said as Rian and Rastim reached the terrace that bordered the wall. The noble was watching the last group of sentries take their position in the low tower in the corner. “Anything could come over this wall.”

To say the Marai hadn’t been designed for defense was an understatement so laughable it was almost imbecilic. The outer wall that was meant to border the moat was low and broken by four gates barred by nothing but broad flights of water steps that now invited entry from the open ground surrounding them. Rian didn’t think much of their chances either, even with Karuda’s men at each entrance and temple servants and monks posted as sentries in all the vantage points.

“Then what will help?” Rian asked seriously. “I’d really love to know.” Rastim shifted, but managed to keep his mouth shut.

Karuda said nothing. No one had seen any movement or sign of life out in the city so far, but someone had built it, just like someone had brought them here.
Or brought here there
, Rian thought. No one was discussing it, but Maskelle and the other priests knew that the Marai had not been somehow snatched from its foundations and dropped in this strange barren world; the cloud that Rian had seen cover the city had brought this world within it, had laid it over the surrounding country like a carpet over floorboards. What they didn’t know was why the Marai was still here at all, if it had been left intentionally or had somehow saved itself and anyone within its boundaries at the last instant. Though that might prove to be more a curse than a mercy, depending on what else lived in this place.

Karuda’s gaze had shifted to the sky. Ignoring Rian’s question, he said, “It’s getting darker.”

“At least that means there’s a night,” Rastim put in suddenly. “This place may not be as strange as it looks. If there’s a night, there has to be a sun past those clouds somewhere.”

Karuda just stared at him.

“If there’s anything here,” Rian explained to the Ariaden reluctantly, “it may be more likely to attack at night. And we won’t see it coming.”

Rastim drew a sharp breath. “Oh.”

Karuda said, “I’ll be in the inner court,” and walked away toward the front of the temple. As soon as he was out of earshot, Rastim said, “That one could make trouble.”

“Thank you, Master of the Obvious.” Shaking his head, Rian started across the court toward the steps up to the gallery.

“Don’t get snappy with me, Sintane, I’m on your side.” Rastim said, right on his heels.

“Oh, good.”

Reaching the gallery, Rian heard a regular tapping echo down the pillared hall. He stopped at the top of the steps, frowning. “What’s that?”

Rastim looked around, baffled. “Someone hammering on the stone?”

“No, that’s wood.” The walls threw back echoes, making it difficult to tell where the tapping was coming from. Rian drew his siri and slowly paced down the gallery.

The outside wall had openings between the pillars that gave a view onto the terrace and the grass court; the inside wall was solid except for the doorways into the second inner court. Anything could have entered the Marai during the confusion after the change. The tapping seemed a little louder and Rian knew he had chosen the right direction.

In the shadows at the base of a column he saw a long dark shape, but a cautious step closer revealed that it was only a wooden box. A familiar wooden box. Rian let out his breath.
This damn thing
.

“Gisar. I forgot all about it.” Rastim blanched. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Rian moved closer and circled the box, though he was careful not to touch it. At least the lock still looked secure. He supposed if it could do more than tap, the thing would have gone on a rampage by now.

“What are we going to do?” Rastim muttered, wringing his hands. “It could make someone let it out again. It could—”

Rian slid the siri back into the scabbard. “Rastim, if you’re going to panic, pick something else to panic about. There’s plenty to choose from, and this is the least of our problems.”

The actor pulled himself together with a little shake and took a deep breath. “I suppose you’re right.” His brow furrowed with worry, he added, “But what about the noise? It might lure someone out here and trick him into releasing it. Will we have to put a guard on it?”

Rian had to admit the actor had a point. Thinking it was worth a try, he kicked the box. “Hey, demon puppet. Be quiet or we’ll use you for firewood.”

The tapping ceased. Rastim looked hopeful. Then a low, gravelly voice said, “Let me out.”

“Yah!” Rastim leapt back a step.

Rian felt the hackles on the back of his neck itch. “Did it ever do that before?”

“No.” Rastim shook his head, his eyes wide.

It said again, “Let me out.”

There was a strange grinding note under the words, like wood grating painfully. The other Ariaden puppets had hinged jaws, so the operator could make them appear to speak. The image of the thing lying packed in its box, that fake jaw working, gave Rian a chill. To the puppet he said, “I don’t think so.”

“I can help you.”

Rastim’s expression went from horrified to incredulous. Rian snorted and said, “And we should believe you because you’ve been so much help in the past?”

“I’m not cursed anymore. The spirits of the temple came into me and frightened the curse away.”

Oh, I’ll bet
, Rian thought. It might have sounded almost convincing had the thing’s eerie voice not had quite such a coy note to it. Something had gotten into it true enough, but it wasn’t any spirit that came from the Marai. It said again, “Let me out. I’ll help you.”

“Of course, we’ll let you out.” Rian backed away, motioning for Rastim to follow him. The actor circled wide around the box, watching it as if Gisar might suddenly leap out at him. Rian added, “Just give me some time to find the key.”

He led Rastim to the nearest door into the second inner court and said, “Wait here while I find out what Maskelle wants to do about this.” Personally he was hoping for a bonfire. “Don’t let anybody go near that thing.”