Wheel of the Infinite (30 page)

Maskelle smiled, shaking her head as she stepped back out into the court. “Maybe you can hide under a blanket and I’ll wake you when it’s over?”

Before Rastim could reply, Firac spoke, his voice rough, “So you think it will be over, then? Sometime?”

It was the question no one else had quite dared to ask. Rastim watched Maskelle nervously, waiting for the answer. She paused, standing down in the court, looking ahead toward the central tower where it rose over the galleries. Finally she said, “Oh, I think it’ll be over. Whether we’ll still be here when it is, I can’t say.” She glanced back up at them. “I’ll tell you when I know.”

Firac nodded. “Well enough.”

The Temple Master met them as soon as they came through the gallery into the inner court. His face was drawn and worried, and he said, “The Throne wants to speak to you.”

They gathered in the court outside the portico of the central tower. The Emperor had sent all his guards to help watch the gates and the outer wall. The courtiers who had accompanied him stood between the pillars or sat on the balustrades of the gallery, grim faces hiding confusion and fear. Raith himself sat under the portico on one of the padded seats taken from the royal litters. Maskelle was startled at how old he looked. His office had already etched fine lines of care around his mouth, and his eyes were deeply shadowed. Vigar paced impatiently near the portico, obviously anxious to return to the Wheel, where the other Voices still worked. Chancellor Mirak stood with Karuda on the gallery steps. The other Koshans, the temple servants, and the Ariaden were an anxious audience in the opposite gallery. The chanting of the priests in the upper levels rose and fell like the howl of the wind.

Maskelle moved to a position directly opposite the Throne’s, with Rian and the Temple Master following her. Rastim and Firac moved to join the other Ariaden. A few people were talking, but all the voices fell away as Maskelle took her place.

Mirak started to speak, but Raith held up his hand for silence. The Emperor met Maskelle’s eyes, and said only, “Well?”

Maskelle smiled tightly, admiring his calm and the way he had shifted the burden onto her. It was a gesture that said,
If you are the chief religious of what’s left of this Empire, then act like it
. She folded her arms and said, “We’ve discovered something new, but the source is, at best, dubious.”

There was a faint stirring of curiosity and unease through the crowd, as she repeated the gist of what the demon had said. Even Vigar stopped pacing. When she had finished, Raith shook his head a little. “Why would this creature betray its own people, if it is one of them?”

“That’s the question,” Vigar said.

Raith glanced over at him, frowning. “Do the libraries tell of anything like this happening before?”

A very Koshan question
, Maskelle thought. Echoing her own words to Rian last night, Vigar said, “There are many places that touch the Infinite.” He waved a hand, gesturing at the strange city beyond the walls and galleries. “We have the evidence of our own eyes that it’s possible. If these people the demon speaks of learned the power to travel from place to place, in search of a new home to replace this one . ..”

Maskelle took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, the situation is the same as it was before this happened,” she said. “We need to search for the second Wheel.”

“Why? Why not simply begin the Rite, if you believe it will restore things to what they were?” Mirak protested.

Maskelle saw the flicker of annoyance on Raith’s face and surprised herself with a small surge of pride.
He realizes it, too
. As Vigar drew breath to answer, the Throne said, “Our enemies have proved that they can create a Wheel of the Infinite similar to our own. If the demon didn’t lie, they made a mistake in using it. Presumably they won’t make that same mistake again. All they have to do is rebuild their Wheel and we will have no second chance.” He leaned forward. “We must destroy their ability to use the Rite against us.”

“Exactly,” Vigar said before Mirak could speak. “It takes the combined power of Kushor-At and Kushor-An, and every other temple center in the Empire, to initiate our Rite. That power is stored now, in the Wheel and the Infinite, ready to be expended. It will take another year for us to rebuild our Wheel, and then it won’t have the force of a Hundred Year Rite. We have no second chance.”

“Which begs the question,” Maskelle began carefully, “where is their power coming from? Not our cities or temples. And there isn’t anything similar here, unless we simply can’t feel it.”

Vigar shook his head, unwilling to speculate.

Karuda stepped forward and said, “Will they know our Wheel is intact? If they do, they’ll come after it.”

Maskelle felt Rian shift beside her and knew he had drawn the same conclusion.

In his mild voice, the Temple Master said. “The Marai is no longer undefended.” His arms folded into the sleeves of his robe, he nodded up at the priests in the upper levels. “The barrier is complete. What they do now is only to keep it in place.”

“We’ll send out search parties for the second Wheel,” Raith said, standing. “Leave enough men behind to watch the boundary, but finding that Wheel must be our first task.” He looked around at all of them. “Small groups, with a few trained warriors, and a priest or monk who knows what to look for. When they find it, they will send a message back for the others to make a plan of attack.”

There was a murmur of agreement and relief through the crowd.

The Emperor glanced up at the darkening purple-grey clouds. “It seems night is coming. The groups should be ready to leave at first light.”

Maskelle exchanged a look with Rian. The Emperor was right. No matter the urgency, they couldn’t send anyone out to stumble around in the dark. The Temple Master added, “It will take time to teach everyone how to move through the barrier around the temple. That can be done during the night.”

And we‘ll just have to hope that we’re here to see the next day
, Maskelle thought, taking a deep breath.

The sky was rapidly growing dark.

After the royal party had retired to their side of the Marai and everyone else had been dispatched to make the various preparations for tomorrow, Rian stood in the inner court of the Marai with Maskelle, watching the night fall. It was quiet except for the low chanting of the priests.

It was already so dark Rian could hardly see Maskelle standing at his elbow; it made the yellow flicker of lamplight in between the pillars of the galleries look as bright as the sun. He said, “If Marada and her people were from here, how do they live? What do they do for food, water?” He knew someone had laid the stone blocks on this plain and built this city. It just didn’t seem reasonable that they could still be here.

Maskelle looked up at the now inky blackness of the sky and shook her head. “I don’t know. I have a feeling Marada was an even stranger creature than we thought. I saw she seemed to exist in the Infinite and our world at the same time. Maybe . . . they don’t need the same things to exist as we do.” She shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll ask about it when we find them tomorrow.”

Rian hoped that was a rhetorical “we.” If Gisar was telling the truth and Marada’s people were here with their Wheel, then the search expeditions would be even more dangerous. With the Celestial One gone, they couldn’t afford to lose Maskelle too. How he was going to talk her out of it, however, was another question and not something he wanted to worry about right this moment. “Why wouldn’t they come to us, that’s what I don’t understand. Whether they meant this to happen or not, surely they have to do something about us?”

She drew a slow breath, still lost in thought. “I don’t know. I wonder . . . This place feels dead to me. Dead or dying.”

Rian felt a coldness settle in the pit of his stomach. That was something else he hadn’t been thinking about. The wind whipped through the court, carrying the scent of emptiness and dust. “Couldn’t that be because of what it did to ... the real world?”

He was looking at the east side of the gallery, trying to make sure no one was creeping out to listen to their conversation. Mirak and his faction had been ominously cooperative; Rian would have preferred a direct confrontation to force all the innuendo out in the open where it could be fought. At least the Emperor seemed to be in firm control for now.

Maskelle stepped close to him suddenly, turned his chin back toward her and kissed him. It was a deep kiss but quick, and if it was meant to distract him from his question, it worked. She stepped back and said, “We’re not dead yet.”

It was what he had said to Rastim this morning, he remembered, watching the white gleam of her robe disappear into the shadows as she walked back toward the south side of the court. He heard a light scrape, a sandal slipping against stone, from behind him. Rian turned, stepping back warily. A man was standing in the portico of the central tower.

“Something I want to show you,” Karuda’s voice said.

Rian hesitated, trying to decide if he smelled a trap or not. It was too dark to see the man’s face.
One sure way to find

out
. He nodded and followed when Karuda led the way across the court.

They went through the courts to the west outer gallery, then down it toward the corner tower. From the windows that looked out on the silent stretch of the grassy court, he could see three dim glows on the wall, the lamps of the sentries, muted to keep the light from ruining the men’s night vision. There was a brighter light at the bottom of the stairs in the tower, where a lamp had been left burning. In its light Rian saw Karuda’s expression was tense. The shadows made the carvings that spiraled up the walls look threatening, the sinuous Temple Dancers appearing more sinister than erotic.

As Karuda started up the stairs, Rian stepped sideways, looking up through the tower, but he couldn’t see anyone lying in wait. Maybe things weren’t bad enough yet for that kind of factionalized infighting; it was hard to tell with these Kushorit. Karuda glanced down but said nothing when Rian started up the stairs.

At the third level Karuda stepped out onto the balcony. There were three men crouched there, all of them temple servants. Rian didn’t relax; he wasn’t sure of the loyalties of all the servants, though most of them seemed to lean toward the priests.

One of the men stood, pointing across the plain. In a hushed, frightened voice he said, “There. It’s getting brighter.”

Rian looked where he was pointing and forgot his suspicions. On one of the massive dark shapes outlined against the sky, pinpricks of light glowed, the red flicker of firelight.

Maskelle leaned on the parapet, looking toward the flickers of red that hovered in the dark like stars. Mirak was standing just within the doorway behind her. The Temple Master had moved up next to Maskelle and Rian was sitting on the balustrade. The sentries had been sent down to the bottom level of the tower to wait.

Maskelle heard footsteps on the stairs and a moment later Karuda stepped into the doorway. He reported, “You can see the fires from all of the other towers.” He added reluctantly, “It seems to go forever.”

“If there were that many people here, we should be able to hear them,” Rian said, sounding frustrated.

Maskelle took a deep breath and nodded. She didn’t think the fires meant people either. At least, not the kind of people they were used to. “We’ll wait until daylight, then go out.”

“ ‘We,’ ” the Temple Master repeated.

She nodded. “I have to go.” She could feel the Adversary pulling at her, more clearly than she had felt it in years. The Infinite was closer, somehow, even though the other Voices said they couldn’t hear the Ancestors.
But the Ancestors have always been tied more closely to the land, the water, the air
. All that was different now. The Adversary had always been identified and personified by its Voice.

“And leave the Marai unprotected?” Mirak said. He had been uncharacteristically silent until now.
But he’s always been a cautious man
, she thought, and he was outnumbered here.

“My duty is not to protect the Marai,” Maskelle told him, turning away from the distant fires to face him. She couldn’t see his expression in the heavy dark, but he would know she was looking at him. “My duty is to find that second Wheel and destroy it.” She heard Rian stir restlessly, but he didn’t protest aloud. She knew his present forbearance wouldn’t stop him from protesting aloud later.

Mirak was silent a moment. “The Voice Vigar gave you the authority of the Celestial One.”

“Vigar’s duty is to protect the Wheel, with the rest of the Voices. If there is anything that will help us, it’s the Rite. But it will be useless to execute the Rite while whoever did this still lives. If they’ve done it once, they can do it again.” She looked at the Temple Master. “When I leave, you become the chief religious of the Celestial Empire.”

The Temple Master sighed, sounding weary. “I thought you might say that.”

Maskelle smiled to herself. As
long as we ‘re carrying on the tradition of awarding it to the person who wants it least
. “Now don’t go and make any sweeping decisions on the Reform of the Eighty-First Passage of the Water Invocations while I’m gone.”

His voice dry, the Temple Master replied, “There go my plans for the afternoon.”

“I see no cause for amusement in this situation,” Mirak said, his voice brittle as glass.

“Neither do we, really,” Maskelle said mildly.
He’s close to the edge
, she thought. And he could fall, or be pushed, over.
Unlike those of us who went over the edge years ago and have been looking up at everyone else from the bottom ever since
. It worried her a little. She knew what he was likely to do in his right mind, and he was dangerous enough as it was. She didn’t know what he would do if he was panic-stricken enough to break. “I would honestly like to answer all your questions, but I won’t have any answers until we find these people and—”

And kill them.

“What is it?” Rian asked sharply.

Maskelle realized they were all staring at her. She shook her head. “I heard the Adversary again.”

The Temple Master drew a sharp breath.

“How very convenient,” Mirak said, his voice laced with vitriol.

“Oh, the one thing the Adversary never is, is convenient,” Maskelle said under her breath. “Finding that second Wheel,” she said aloud. “That’s the first step.”
But only the first step
, she thought.

* * *

“Sintane, I need to talk to you,” Rastim said.

“Not now.” Rian didn’t bother to look up. With the help of a couple of nuns who had been doing duty as sentries in the taller towers, he was drawing a rough map of what he had seen of the layout of the city around them in soot on the flat pavement of the second outer court. The night was an absolute pitch black, carrying no moon, no stars, and no reassurance that day would ever return.
It’s just the clouds
, Rian had told himself. There was a real sky up there somewhere.
I hope
. Working in the flicker of lamplight had given him a headache and he was in no mood to listen to Rastim. He had spent the last few hours with Karuda, organizing the guards and Koshans into search groups, then sending them out to the Temple Master at the edge of the barrier to learn how to cross back and forth through it.

Rian hadn’t completely believed in the barrier until he had felt it himself, but it made a wall as impossible to penetrate as stone or wood. To cross it you had to walk in a pattern: Left three paces, straight two paces, right three paces, straight one pace, then turn left and out. Follow the steps in reverse to get back in. No enemies were going to stumble on that formula by accident. Rian had thought the chanting of the priests would become an annoyance after a time, but now it was reassuring, a calming counterpoint to the silence of the night and the lonely echo of the wind.

“It’s important,” Rastim said through gritted teeth.

Rian looked up at him. Only a few lamps were lit to conserve the short supply of oil, and the orange-yellow glows were as bright as stars on the railing of the second-level gallery, at the archway that led through into the central court, and scattered through the lower levels where the people were gathered. The lamplight threw just enough illumination onto the Ariaden’s face for Rian to see his expression.

Rian sat back on his heels, brows drawing together. “What is it?”

The two nuns looked up from a prolonged discussion over whether the building with the eight spires was behind or to the west of the one with horns, worried at his tone.

“Gisar,” Rastim said grimly.

There were plenty of lamps in this section of the third court, their light flickering over the wall carvings and the pillars. They clearly illuminated the empty box, its lid carefully set aside. Rian touched the wood where Maskelle had written the protective sigils. The ink had been burned away; he could see and feel where the wood was singed.

“It must have spelled you to let it out, like it did at the camp that night,” Rastim said tiredly, wiping the dust from his face with his sleeve. Rastim had said that when he came to relieve Firac at watch, he had seen that Gisar was gone. Firac and the Koshan priest hadn’t been able to see the box was open until a frantic Rastim had pointed it out.

Now the two men looked rebellious. Firac folded his arms stubbornly and the priest began, “With all respect, I don’t think—”

Examining the locks, Rian shook his head. “No, it opened this from the inside.” He could see where the thing had forced the locks apart. Running his fingers over the inside of the lid, he could feel where the heat had started. “The sigils were burned away from the inside, too.”

Karuda swore, straightening up from where he had leaned over to look at the lock. Rian had sent for the noble as soon as he had heard Rastim’s story. He had also sent one of the nuns to warn Maskelle. The Kushorit said wearily, “This is all we need.”

Rian couldn’t disagree. He got to his feet. “So let’s start looking for it.”

Karuda rubbed his eyes, then nodded sharply and started away. “I’ll organize a search.”

Rian took the opposite direction, heading down the gallery toward the arch that opened into the outer court. Though he hadn’t shown it to Karuda, he was grimly afraid. There was no telling what Gisar would do. He wished he had some idea what to do if he found the thing.

Rastim hurried to catch up with him. “Why are you going this way?”

“If it’s possessed by one of Marada’s people instead of the demon, it’ll try to get back to them,” Rian said, as they reached the steps and started down. “It could be heading straight for the way out.” All the creature would have to do would be to leave the third court by the middle stairs and head straight across the outer court to the gate. If it could hide itself from Firac and the priest, the sentries at the gate wouldn’t have a chance.

“Oh, that’s a point,” Rastim said, following him.

Rian reached the bottom of the steps and started across the open area. The wide grassy expanse of the outer court was dark except for a couple of lamps on the water gate directly opposite the entrance to the gallery behind them. The ground was carefully even and free of obstacles, so it wouldn’t be hard to cross, even when you couldn’t see your feet in front of you. Rian took a deep breath, the smell of still damp earth and green temporarily blotting out the odors of dust and emptiness carried on the wind. Thinking it through, he said, “It won’t be able to get through the barrier, but it’ll be trapped between there and the wall—”

They were halfway to the gate when a figure rose up out of the dark suddenly. Rian shoved Rastim back and caught the blow in the chest, hard enough to make him stumble. He ducked the next one by instinct and drew his sin. He could hear a weird jangle, as if whoever had attacked them was wearing a lot of noisy jewelry.

He blocked another blow with the sword, feinted and drove it in toward what should have been his opponent’s midsection. The return blow knocked him off his feet and he felt the siri jerked out of his hand. Rastim had gotten to his feet and now dove forward, trying to grab the thing from behind, but it threw him off.