Wheel of the Infinite (33 page)

Maskelle stepped inside and saw Raith standing across the room, his back to her. The openings between the pillars had been draped too, but the curtains were pulled back now to let in the wan daylight and a little of the breeze. The room was sparsely furnished with a couple of makeshift pallets and a brazier. One of the young Court Ladies was seated on a cushion, holding a small lute in her lap. Without waiting for the Emperor’s command, the woman got to her feet hurriedly, bowed, and stepped out through the curtain.

Maskelle took a deep breath and simply waited.

Raith turned to face her, his stony expression telling her nothing. “So.” He still wore the silk and gold of the festival clothing, but he had put off some of the heavier pieces of jewelry. “Here we are.”

“Indeed.”

To her surprise, he looked away, biting his lip, forehead creased with some strong emotion she couldn’t name. His voice thick, he said, “You were right, then.”

Maskelle watched him a moment, aware how very little she really knew about him after all these years. “Right? About what?”
It happens so seldom, lately. . .
.

“This.” He gestured down at the court bitterly, then up at the sickly purple sky. “If I took the Celestial Throne, disaster would result.” He laughed sharply. “If I had known this was the kind of disaster you meant, I would have taken my own life.”

Maskelle shook her head, suddenly unsure what to say. “This is... Raith, this isn’t the vision I had. That vision was false.”

“Was it?” He stared at her. “You don’t call this disaster?”

“I call it disaster, but—” She couldn’t continue. Raith was the one who had allowed Marada at court. But it was such a small mistake, to find a foreign courtier pleasing. Marada had fooled advanced priests and spoken to the Celestial One himself without revealing her intentions or her strange origin. How could Raith possibly be to blame? And even if she had never received admission to Court, that wouldn’t have stopped her from living in the city, seeking instruction from Veran or some other unlucky priest.
I thought I killed her, and it still didn’t stop this
. “We still don’t know what happened, or who created the second Wheel of the Infinite. We’ve only a demented puppet’s word that there is a second Wheel; it could be telling us only what we want to hear, mindlessly repeating the theory Vigar and I had. The Wheel wasn’t at Marada’s house, where we expected to find it.” She rubbed her tired eyes. She couldn’t stay here and console Raith for long; she had to get back to Rian and Rastim before anything happened to them. “I know now she didn’t die when I thought she did, and she obviously had allies we knew nothing about.”

Raith stood silently a moment, then took a deep breath, seeking control. He took a couple of steps to the balustrade and looked down at the court, where some of the temple servants were drawing water out of the basins. “So Lady Marada was some sort of spirit creature? Karuda said she was killed while trying to assassinate the Celestial One with magic, but then she returned to attack you last night.”

He sounded oddly dispassionate about it, as if he had had no close relationship with the woman at all. Maskelle said cautiously, “Yes. And she was certainly the one who killed Igarin and Veran.” She hesitated, and added finally, “I’m sorry.”

Staring pensively out at the court below, Raith made a dismissive gesture. Then he glanced at her, puzzled. “For what? For Marada?”

Maskelle studied his face. She said slowly, “For Marada. I’m sorry it was her. I heard you were much attached to her.”

He shook his head, still puzzled. “No. She was close to the Court, but...” He saw her expression and added, “Why? Were there rumors? There always are. But she was more attached to Chancellor Mirak.” He snorted and looked down into the court again. “The gossips told me he gave her the richest of gifts. It was unusual for him, he wasn’t one to succumb to beauty. I suppose he feels like a fool now.”

Maskelle drew a deep breath. “I... see.”
Oh yes, now I see
.

“It’s funny how Gisar helped us last night,” Rastim said as he plodded along, shielding his eyes as an eddy showered them briefly with dust.

“What?” Rian asked. They were working their way south through the city, the strange empty buildings rising like mountains all around them. They investigated doorways that opened into huge cavernous spaces and others that led only into rubble-filled warrens, all that was left after the upper floors collapsed. There were no paintings, no carvings except for the spare geometrical designs, no statues, at least none so far, though Rastim had found one place that had had several spots on the walls where it was apparent the carvings had been removed deliberately, and not simply worn away by wind and time. Rian wasn’t sure what to make of it, though he supposed it might be something like when a rival lord seized a Hold and destroyed his predecessor’s likenesses in the wall paintings.

The city felt even more vast under the sunless sky the further they got from the temple. In the distance the wind drove sheets of dust across the stone, sometimes creating whirlwinds that shattered against the massive stone buildings. They had been able to hear and catch glimpses of the groups to the left and right of them for the first part of the day, but for a while now they had been alone.

“And you know, if we hadn’t run into him, we’d have gone outside the wall,” Rastim continued. “Maybe even outside the barrier since it would have been safer to look for him from the other side, with him trapped inside it and unable to get to us. We’d have run right into those things.”

“So?” Rian prodded, though he knew what Rastim meant.

“So it was lucky. And odd.”

Damned odd
, Rian thought, but there were no answers. He craned his neck to look up at the buildings around them. The one right above them had a bridge coming out of its dome, stretching across the plaza to a tall thin pillar. “Here’s another one with a bridge.” He turned and waved to the men across the square, who started back toward them.

Rastim sighed and looked back again at the heart tower of the Marai, just visible between the two buildings behind them, but made no other comment. Rian had been looking for a building with a bridge or balcony that they could climb up to and get a better perspective on the city but all those they had found so far had been unreachable.

As the others reached them, Rian stepped back, looking up again at the dark windows high overhead. “Come on, let’s try to find the way in.”

“Perhaps there isn’t one,” Rastim suggested hopefully.

Rian started away, following the curve of the wall. “Then in that case I hope you like to climb.” He gestured up to the windows, a good fifty or sixty feet up the side. “What did you think I brought the rope for?”

“That was a joke, wasn’t it? I ask, you know, because I wasn’t aware it was possible for a Sitanese to have a sense of humor.”

A few of the men hid smiles, which Rian ignored. Rastim was keeping everyone’s spirits up, and though Rian hated to admit it, the Ariaden’s comments were funny. They started to work their way around the building and found the doorway on the far side. It was square and large enough for a river cargo crane. All the doorways had been large; it made Rian wonder if what had lived here had been people after all.

The interior was dark and they had to pause and light the lamp before going any further. As the temple servant who carried it held it up, they saw that this chamber was filled with rubble too, but something had made it all fall to one side of the structure, so it made a rough ramp against one wall. Rian squinted, trying to see if the opening to the bridge was reachable. He could see it wasn’t blocked by debris; there was a faint daylight glow coming through it.

“What did that?” one of the men asked, puzzled by the odd pattern of the debris. “The rest of the floor is clean, as if it’s been swept.”

Rian took the lamp and lifted it, seeing the man was right. He shook his head. More mysteries. He handed the lamp back and said, “Wait here. I’m going to see if I can get up to that bridge.”

The Koshan monk, whose name was Aren, stepped forward. “I’ll go also.”

“Me, too,” Rastim said firmly.

Rian didn’t argue with him. Rastim had a need to prove his bravery, and Rian was willing to let the Ariaden do it.

They started to climb, Rastim scrambling agilely along. Occasionally their progress dislodged rocks or fragments that rolled down on the men watching below. Rian could hear them cursing as they dodged out of the way. About halfway up, he could feel a strong breeze from the bridge opening.

They reached the top of the pile and Rian could see the square door was just within reach. It was nothing more than a short tunnel through the wall of the building, then it opened up into the bridge.

As the tallest, it was easy for Rian to reach the opening, haul himself up, then help the monk, who turned back to give Rastim a hand. Rian went forward cautiously to the end of the tunnel and paused at the mouth.

The bridge was a slab of stone about twenty feet wide with a low balustrade, only a foot or so high. It stretched out to the pillar, but strangely there didn’t appear to be a door on the other end. The view was just as incredible as Rian expected, and the city now lay before them.

He walked out on the bridge, mindful of the gusty wind, but it didn’t feel strong enough to knock him off. The monk and Rastim followed carefully. Rian stopped at about the middle.

From this angle he could see round buildings, each like a giant bowl of dark grey pottery set bottom-up, stood in a line on the outskirts as if forming a boundary to the rest of the city.
Fortresses
? he thought, trying to puzzle it out. He supposed archers could fire on approaching troops through the small windows if they had to, but it wasn’t practical. Maybe that was just the way these people put their cities together. Maybe the Kushorit cities with their straight lines and canals and avenues would appear just as baffling to them.
If those cities were still there
, Rian reminded himself.
Bastards
.

The monk Aren grabbed his arm suddenly and pointed. “There.”

Rian looked. The man was pointing at the domed building with the horn-shaped spires. There was a broad avenue leading away from it toward the west, the only approach to it Rinn could see. He started to ask the monk if he thought the structure was some sort of temple, then he realized what the man was actually pointing at. There were openings high in the dome and out of one of them poured something that looked like a distortion in the air.

“Those things, the clouds that came to the temple last night.” The monk spoke so softly Rian could barely hear him over the wind.

And they were coming this way. “Down,” he snapped.

Rastim yelped and dropped like a rock, covering his head. Rian and the monk crouched down behind the low balustrade. A sound rose above the wind, a low howling tone. It grew louder and Rian and the monk exchanged a grimace. The creatures were flying right toward them.

Rian risked a look. “Another attack. Do you see it, Maskelle?” The blurring in the air grew rapidly larger as it drew closer. Heart pounding, Rian pressed himself against the low wall.

“She sees it. Surely she sees it,” Rastim muttered. He wet his lips nervously, looking around as if he hoped to see a convenient shelter spring up somewhere. “What do we do?”

“Don’t move,” the monk advised fervently.

The high thin howl that was unpleasantly familiar from last night grew louder, but it was high overhead. Then the tone changed and it faded into the distance toward the Marai. “Maskelle, did you see it?” Rian asked again.

I saw
, her voice said in his ear.
I have to help the others now. I won’t be with you for a while
.

“All right.” Rian got to his feet, brushing his dusty hands off on his dustier pants.

“She heard you?” Rastim asked cautiously, still huddling by the balustrade.

“Yes. She said she wouldn’t be watching us while she deals with the attack. Didn’t you hear her?” Sometimes Rastim had been able to hear Maskelle’s spirit voice, sometimes not. It seemed to unnerve the Ariaden, and it might be that he was somehow unintentionally blocking it.

“Not that time.” Rastim got to his feet, looking nervously toward the Marai. “The barrier will hold, won’t it?”

“It will hold,” the monk said firmly.

“If it doesn’t. . .” Rastim was still staring bleakly at the temple.

“Rastim . . .” Rian threw his arms in the air in exasperation. “If it doesn’t hold, we’re all dead. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Sorry, sorry.” The Ariaden shook himself briskly and shouldered his pack. “Being dramatic, force of habit. Let’s go.”

“Thank you.” Rian started away. If they came all this way and found nothing, then returned to the Marai to find nothing ... At least now they had a goal.

They climbed back down, the loose stone making it far more awkward than the trip up. Once there, he told the others briefly what they had seen.

“Well?” Rian asked when he had finished. “We could go back and report to the others, or push on and look over that place ourselves. We’re so far out that if we return to the temple first, we wouldn’t be able to get back out here before dark.”

“Another day here,” one of them muttered.

Rian felt the same way. “So we push on?”

There were general nods, and no grumbling or outright fear, though Rian supposed they were all as terrified as he was.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Rastim declared as they made their way to the door. “They could turn us into those stone creatures we saw last night.”

“They looked as much like people as they looked like monkeys,” Rian objected. “That doesn’t count.” The game— which they had been playing off and on through the day— was “most horrible thing that can happen.” Rian had thought he was good at anticipating the worst, but Rastim was winning hands down. He hoped the others in their group were enjoying his defeat. He said, “All right, all right, I give up. Why don’t you tell us a play?”

Rastim took the victory in good part, launching into the plot of an elaborate kiradi play about warring noble families. Rian found himself relieved that Rastim had made the decision to come along; it would have been easy to go mad out here with nothing to think about but the consequences of failure.
Maybe that’s what happened to the people who built this place
. They had built their palaces and stripped the world bare with the effort of it, then gone mad in the solitude, leaving only demons behind them. A nice idea, but it didn’t explain Marada, or how they had built the Second Wheel.