Reclamation

5—Broken Canyon, The Realm of The Nameless Powers, Early Morning

The rain came down like the wrath of some ancient god. Even with his lantern in his fist, Jay couldn’t see more than a yard past the tip of his boots. A solid wall of water reflected the light right back at him. It wasn’t all water, though. Slivers of ice smacked against his faceplate like they meant to chip the silicate.

Behind him, the two Notouch women steadied each other. As soon as the squall started up, they wrapped their headcloths around their faces to protect themselves from the ice and to make sure they had pockets of air to breathe. You could literally drown in some of these rains. Now they held tight to each other’s arms, walking in a measured, rocking gait that let them balance against each other as they picked their way over the slick, bare rock of the canyon floor.

If there’d ever been soil here, years of wind and water had washed it away, leaving nothing but granite and sandstone. Jay’s lantern showed up bands of pale pink and flecks of gold underfoot that might have been beautiful had there been daylight to shine on any of them.

Jay glanced up. The bulk of the ragged canyon Wall was indistinguishable from the black sky overhead. The darkness left him no way to pick out the clouds and measure their weight or their movement. If the deluge didn’t stop soon, he could be in trouble. A river could start down the walls, and in this thread-thin canyon, they’d all be washed away and buried in the swamps. Already the rain filled the hollows between the stones underfoot until the puddles overflowed into one another. In places he was up to his ankles in ice water. The women must have been just about numb, but, then, they were used to this. After four years of tramping up and down in the Realm’s insane weather, Jay still couldn’t see how they stood it. He thought about Cor waiting behind with the oxen. At least she could climb under the sledge’s canvas cover and stay dry.

Finally, the water and the darkness split far enough to let through the white spark of another light. Jay resisted the impulse to hurry. Slipping on the wet stone would take him down hard even through the layers of wool and leather he wore, and he had nothing to catch himself against but more slick stone.

The puddles were turning into brooks, fast. One of the Notouch, Broken Trail, he thought, pointed toward the white light and shouted something to her cousin. Jay beckoned at them impatiently. Empty Cups glanced backward and then forward, and evidently decided she’d come too far to carry through any thoughts of turning around. She trudged forward with her cousin.

Jay forced himself to concentrate on each step until he could see the curving, white sides of the shelter. The brightly lit entranceway opened like a warm welcome. He ducked down the short corridor made of polymer sheets over a jointed framework and breathed a sigh of relief. Behind him, Empty Cups pulled Broken, Trail back. The cousins stood in the downpour, shouting in each other’s ears to be heard above the storm.

Jay motioned for them to come inside. They obeyed hesitantly.

Always the same, he thought. They’ll walk up a dark canyon and through a downpour, but as soon as they get to the dry, well-lit place, they get scared.

He stripped off his glove. Cold sank through his skin straight to his bone. He hammered on the inner door. The door peeled back and let loose a flood of powered light.

“Welcome back, Jay,” said Lu as he stepped back to let the three soaking travelers inside.

Jay felt the muscles in his back relax immediately in the warm, still air. The icy rain became nothing but a distant thunder outside the curving walls. He pulled off his faceplate and shucked the dripping cape, hanging both on an empty hook amid the emergency gear and corporate issue outerwear that none of the Unifier Team bothered with. He snatched up one of the extra towels Lu kept piled on a spare crate and wiped the spattering of rain off his round face and bald scalp.

The dome was a long way from luxurious. Most of the gear was stashed in polymer crates. The crates were stacked between equipment that still had half its paneling open, exposing wires and chips in bundles of black and orange, blue and green. Jay had at one point wondered what Lu did with his days when he was supposed to be making the base not just usable, but livable. Then he had learned that, for Lu, this jumble was livable.

“Who’ve you got for us?” Lu beamed through his scruffy, brown beard at the two women and switched to the language of the Realm. “The Nameless called this day fine, for we have met in it.” Lu held up his hands. He’d had the hand marks of one of the Bondless drawn on their backs in indelible ink. The women relaxed visibly. Now they knew where they were in terms of how to act.

They both knelt on the shelter’s smooth polymer floor. The older of the pair said, “Know, good sir, that this despised one is Broken Trail dena Rift in the Clouds and with her is Empty Cups dena Reed in the Wind, and we beg to know how we may serve.”

Lu suppressed a grimace and Jay shrugged. When they’d first started the search, Lu had tried to get the Notouch to stop groveling, but found it didn’t work. The Notouch obeyed the rules of a lifetime and simply didn’t trust anybody who told them that the rules were unnecessary. They were so stubborn about it that Jay found himself wondering if some kind of specific subservience hadn’t been bred into them by the old masters of this place. Their caste system had probably evolved around whatever categories their makers had originally placed them in. But then there was Stone in the Wall…But she had been an exception and it was beginning to look like that wasn’t the only thing she’d been an exception to.

“First you can serve by getting yourselves warm and dry,” said Lu, putting his steady smile back into place. “Come here, if you will.”

Trail and Cups followed Jay, walking so close together their shoulders almost touched. Jay had set up an empty metal crate near the back wall of the shelter. A coal fire burned in the middle of it. For the first couple of testees, he had tried to introduce them to heating elements, but none of them would come near the glowing coils.

When Jay stood back to make room for them, Trail and Cups approached the fire without hesitation and held out their scarred hands over the flames, rubbing and blowing on their knuckles. They stripped off their headcloths and ponchos, wringing out the extra water onto the floor. Fortunately, Lu would be spared from having to mop up the mess. The porous polymer absorbed it and let it drain into the ground underneath.

“Now then, Trail and Cups, hear this,” said Lu as the women dried themselves off. “I am going to show you a strange place and ask you some questions you may not see the reason for. To serve, you must stay calm and use the wits the Nameless bestowed upon you when they gave you your lives. You’ll be home before night touches your rooftops again. Can you do this?”

“Good sir, we can,” said Trail, bowing her head humbly.

Lu rolled his eyes. “Then you have my thanks.” He glanced at Jay and switched to Standard. “You coming down?”

“No.” Jay dropped into the chair in front of the encampment stove and yanked off his boots. “I’ve got to make it back before the Seablades show up. King Silver wants her Skyman beside her so she can show how badly she’s breaking all the rules.”

“Well, you know the real rule.”

“If it works, don’t argue,” Jay chorused with him. He stuffed his boots and socks into the stove and set the controls for clothes drying.

“Good luck,” he said as he leaned back.

“Thanks,” answered Lu. “I still wish we didn’t have to do it this way.”

Jay made himself shrug casually again. “Those are the orders. No more volunteers go offworld until we find out what the Vitae have done with or to Stone in the Wall.” He frowned toward the stove. Should have had word about that by now, even if it isn’t ever going to come from where Lu thinks it will.

“Whatever you say. You’re the boss of this little expedition.” Lu shrugged.

“It’s not my idea,” Jay reminded him. Believe me, I’d just as soon be shoveling everyone we can get our hands on into the shuttle hold. “It’s the committee’s. It’s not so bad, though. We do need to be careful. The Vitae are awfully close to making their move on this place.”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you.”

Yes, I would. “Let me alone, Lu. I exiled myself years ago.”

“Sorry,” said Lu sheepishly. “It’s an old habit.”

“I know.” The stove chimed and Jay opened the door to retrieve his footgear. “Take care.”

“Keep your back to the wall.”

Jay refrained from mentioning that here it was impossible to do anything else.

Lu waited for Trail and Cups to rewrap their ponchos and turbans before he led them to the trapdoor he had jury-rigged in the floor. Underneath it lay a second hatchway, flush to a smooth patch of some silicate-like substance that had been exposed by years of wind and water rushing across it.

Lu dug his fingers into the crack between the hatch and the silicate and, with a grant of effort, raised the lid. Cups and Trail exchanged apprehensive glances when they saw the smooth-sided, dark well in front of them. Lu pressed the key that turned on the lights he had strung on adhesive pads down the side. The illumination did little more than show the fact that the tunnel’s walls were grey and unmarked, broken only by the string of lights and the jointed ladder Lu had hung from the edge of the drop.

Lu had tried to drill holes in the wall to make rungs for a proper ladder, but the silicate wouldn’t yield to anything, including a welding torch.

Nonchalantly, Lu grabbed the ladder’s rungs and started his descent. Cups swallowed visibly, but followed as soon as she had room. Trail glanced back at Jay, her eyes narrow and calculating.

Jay started. Stone in the Wall had given him the same look before she’d agreed to come with him up the canyon.

Do you suppose we’ve finally hit diamond?

Trail turned her attention toward the ladder and started down it. Jay realized he was biting his lower lip and released it. It was a bad habit he’d picked up from Cor. Telltale signs of nervousness had been creeping into his features more and more often.

He stuffed his feet back into his socks and boots, pausing a minute to let the warmth restore at least some measure of circulation to his feet. Then Jay retrieved his cloak and face mask and steeled himself to walk back outside. He really wanted to wait the rain out in the civilized atmosphere of the dome.

How far gone am I when a portable shelter is civilized? he wondered irritably.

He shoved the door aside. Without pausing, he ducked out into the canyon. The door slapped shut behind him.

The canyon’s darkness folded around him like another cloak. The rain had stopped, leaving nothing but puddles with crusts of ice forming rapidly. The sun was over the walls of the main canyon, Jay knew, but the night’s unforgiving cold and dark lingered for hours longer in this side crack. Still, Jay felt his breathing ease, not just from the change in the weather, but from getting away from Lu. It was always easier to think on his own.

It’s so close to finished, I’m getting nervous. And I should have had word by now. Uary’s had plenty of time to find out what that woman is.

Just check the transmitter and get back where you belong, Jahidh, he ordered himself.

All three of the team wore the neckline terminals commonly called “torques” that worked in conjunction with their translator disks to allow them to keep in touch with each other over limited distances. But offworld transmission required more power and a lot more circuitry. When Jay had suggested that the spare transmitter should be set up somewhere away from the shelter, Lu and Cor had both agreed. The reasoning he’d used on them was that if the weather, or a hostile native managed to destroy the shelter, there’d still be a way for the survivors to get word out. His real reasoning had been that the communications system needed a weak link he could exploit.

Jay switched the lantern on and strapped it to his arm. He pointed the beam up the rocky cliff, tracking the handholds Lu had so carefully gouged into the stone. He took a deep breath and flexed his hands before he hoisted himself up the rocky cliff. The rock hadn’t had the chance to absorb any heat from the new day. It was like climbing a ragged block of ice. Jay gritted his teeth and kept on climbing.

About ten meters above the canyon floor, the cliff broke away. Jay swung his leg over the lip and dropped down into a pocket-sized valley. Places like this were called “flood cups” by the inhabitants of the Realm because they could sometimes fill up with water and spill out into the canyon. This one, however, had several drainage holes drilled in it. Jay only had to splash through a few shallow puddles to reach the transmitter.

The unit was a stack of squat boxes. Everything they used on this planet had to be sheltered against the torrential rains and freezing cold that came with night.

Jay undid the straps holding the lantern to his sleeve and hooked it onto the side of the transmitter so he could see what he was doing. Then he lifted back the cover on the main unit. All the keys and displays glowed with a steady amber light and were completely blank.

Jay touched a series of commands he had memorized weeks before they landed here. No response came from the unit. No messages from the Unifiers, then. No change in status to report to their people down here stirring up trouble. Cor and Lu spent a lot of time cursing about the lack of attention their project was receiving from the bureaucracy back on May 16, even with the Vitae so interested in the Realm. Jay suspected both of them were on somebody’s mud list by now for failing to make scheduled reports.

Neither side knew how many messages were being “lost” during transmission.

Jay touched the keys again in a sequence that Lu and Cor had no idea was valid. The transmitter responded by scattering what could have been a random series of symbols from a dozen different alphabets across the screen. Jay took his translator disk out of his ear and slipped it into the download slot in the transmitter. The screen cleared instantly. Jay reclaimed the disk.

As soon as he had replaced the translator in his ear, Caril’s voice spoke to him. “We have released the artifact Stone in the Wall. She and Eric Born were allowed to escape confinement twenty hours prior to my sending this message…”

Jay sat in his tiny pool of light, feeling the cold seep into him as he listened to the details.

Blood, blood, blood! he cursed. Now we have to hunt down her family. He thought about Trail and her eyes, but couldn’t work the brief glimpse of a resemblance into a full-fledged hope. How could those idiots have done this! They know I’ve got nothing to work with down here! For a brief moment, he knew how Lu and Cor felt, bereft of resources and support.

He tried to tell himself it was only a setback, not a dead end. And it would have been very bad if the Assembly had found out how Stone in the Wall functioned before they did, but it was still bad enough. If the Imperialists didn’t have a thorough grasp of how the artifacts functioned by the time the Assembly parties came over the World’s Wall, the chance to win the Home Ground would be gone.

Of course, the two Unifiers thought that was the deadline for having the Realm’s power base reorganized under a monarch who wanted to join the Human Family.

None of which leaves any more time for sitting around here.

Jay climbed out of the flood cup and down to the canyon floor. The sky above him had turned smoky grey, but its light hadn’t yet traveled far enough over the Walls to show him his way, so he kept the lantern on and picked his path between the fallen rocks and frozen puddles as fast as he could.

After about three miles, the darkness ended and Jay stepped out of the canyon’s shadow into the filtered, hazy glow that passed for daylight in the Realm.

The Teachers said that Broken Canyon was where the Nameless Powers had argued about the word for “stone.” The entire breadth of it was a mass of jagged promontories, caves, cups, and gashes. The Walls didn’t even stand up straight. They sloped open like the canyon was yawning.

When the Nameless had finally come to an agreement, went the story, they made up for the botched job by painting the canyon in a spectacular fashion. The rain hadn’t made it out here, so the colors were still dry. Veins of silver and quartz shot through bands of crimson, rust, vermilion, violet, and sparkling sandstone. Here and there you could even catch a glimpse of a slick, greyish patch of exposed silicate.

Jay could remember the tremor of excitement in Lu’s voice when he’d discovered that the slick, grey “rock” was really a manufactured silicate lying under the dirt and gravel of the Realm. It meant that MG49 sub 1 was not just a failed colony, it was a fallen world, and who knew how much of their technology might have survived under the ground?

Broken Canyon measured three miles wide at its base, but he still felt hemmed in by the walls that were too huge to be taken in with a single glance. It got worse when he remembered that these were the smaller walls, and that the black, ragged stretch where the horizon should have been was a hundred times bigger.

Four years, as Jay and his two companions measured time, had passed and he had never gotten used to the sight. Jay looked at the ground and started down the slope through the screen of scraggly trees and underbrush. The spectacular colors of the walls almost compensated for the tan, grey, and olive green of the stunted trees and spiky reeds that poked out of the skimpy patches of soil. Moss and lichens gave the rocks coats of fuzz.

The sounds of life drifted up to him on the back of the omnipresent wind. Hooves and skids clattered against rock and sank into mud. Voices bounced off the boulders in an incoherent babble that seemed to come from all directions at once, all mixed up with the thousand little noises that came from constant motion. Jay shoved his way through a thicket of thorny trees and finally got a clear view of the muddy, pockmarked road.

King Silver had told him, rather proudly, that forcing the Narroways Approach across the canyon floor had cost a thousand lives. The lichen-covered mounds of boulders heaped alongside the roadbed gave a lot of credence to the body count.

A flood of travelers poured down and around the wide road today. Clear, dry spells were not to be wasted, war or no war. Even in the traffic, though, they clung together in knots of their own kind. Caravans of Bondless shouted over their creaking sleighs and snorting oxen. They gave a grudging berth to a gaggle of Bonded trotting along with their overseer. An enclosed sledge that bore the ribbons of some Noble house rattled along at the center of an entourage which shoved an impartial path through the rest of the traffic.

Along the side of the road, framing the scene, the bundles of Notouch women in their ragged motley picked their own paths between the rocks and the weeds. The girls who could walk struggled to keep up with their mothers, aunts, and older sisters. The babies were carried on the stooped backs of the oldest women.

Jay frowned at them. Those roving bands were what was making it so impossible to track Stone in the Wall. If only the Ancestors had been a little more obvious in designing their servants, but, aside from the trained telekinetics, there were no differences between these walking artifacts that could be seen without a gene scan. Uary had theories. The Notouch might have been the “untouched,” blank slates that were the control group for the Ancestors’ work, or kept to use for later modification. That the telekinesis could crop up anywhere lent credence to the story from their “apocrypha” about the war against the Teachers that drove the power-gifted into hiding and humiliation until they’d learned their lesson.

Or until the others learned they couldn’t live without them, thought Jay, watching the ragged parade of so many men and women and so few children.

But none of these theories explained what Stone in the Wall was, or why her family was relegated to the Notouch caste. The traits that made her what she was were not shared by the caste in general any more than the telekinesis was shared by all the Nobles. Cor had met Stone in the Wall in Narroways. She came from a cluster of huts that had no name, and probably wasn’t even there anymore. Like most Notouch women, she spent her time roving between cities and farms as a “hired” hand while the men stayed in the village and kept the place from being washed away. By the time Cor had tried to track her family, Stone in the Wall’s band was gone and no one would admit to knowing anything about her. Trail and Cups hadn’t even been willing to say they’d come to Narroways with a work band.

Chaos, it was all chaos. This was what happened when there was no vision, no conscious plan. Entropy laid hold of individual minds, and everything that had been built…collapsed.

Jay squinted over the Notouch’s heads toward the longest of the caravans. Its masters, at least, weren’t completely oblivious to the hostile state of affairs between Narroways and the Orthodox world. Men displaying the tin helmets of hired guards balanced on the overfull sledges, clutching their axes and metal-studded clubs so anyone who glanced toward them could see they meant business.

The sight didn’t say much positive for what the local feeling was about the Seablades coming across from First City. Jay forced the frown out of his features and scanned the roadside for Cor.

She was easy to pick out because she was almost the only still figure in the canyon. Cor leaned against the driver’s perch of her sledge, watching the parade. Her oxen chewed the tree branches nearby and she patted the slablike side of the one closest to her absently.

Jay sidestepped toward her. His boots loosened a small scree of stones and Cor tilted her head up.

“You’re looking grim,” she said as he picked his way down to her.

“I’m feeling grim. There are no messages from May 16 and it’s getting later by the second.”

Cor glanced at the sky and at the slant of the shadows. “In more ways than one. I’ll cuss the Vitae and bureaucrats out later.” She unknotted the oxen’s reins from the tree branch. Her hands had been marked with the broken triangles of the Bondless class. Unlike his Noble swirls, her marks were real tattoos. But then, it was her job to immerse herself totally in the local culture. That way, she could bring an intimate picture back to the Family and she could get the locals used to the idea that the odd-looking strangers coming to their world were just like them, really.

Jay clambered into the back of the sledge.

“It’d be easier if you’d just learned to ride,” she remarked, watching him with an amused smile playing around her mouth. “The oxen are slow and quiet. It’s not that tough.”

“I am from an overcivilized and decadent people,” said Jay blandly as he settled himself on one of the boxes that served as seats in the awkward construction. “I just can’t do it.”

Cor shrugged, hollered at the beasts, and they all lurched forward.

The countryside crawled past them behind the jostle of fellow travelers. A path cleared in front of them and closed up behind as people recognized them as Skymen. Jay tried not to wince as the unpadded box jounced against his backside. A river of sweat began to trickle down his cheek. Now that the sun was full up, the day was turning as hot as the night had been cold.

After about an hour, the scraggly wilderness began to give grudging space to tamed patches. The Narroways farmlands were strange places, more cultivated wetlands than fields. Yards of seine nets covered the grains to keep the plants from the worst of slashing sleet and hail that could come at night. The nets were rolled back in places and the Bonded worked in teams, chopping weeds and mucking out the trenches so water could flow between the rice plants and keep them from shriveling into dormancy. Behind a low wall, Bondless carefully tended their orchard. Each precious tree was carefully tented and you could only see the shadows of the workers underneath, pruning and grafting. Fruits and root vegetables were delicacies in this world of grains, grasses, and fungi.

The war did not touch the farms, or the oxen and pigs in their pens. Food and animals would be needed by whoever won. But the houses that could be seen from the road sported red flags, proclaiming there had been war dead there.

Beyond the farms the canyon walls shrugged and shifted and so the world bent toward the left and tilted down a sharp gradient. Cor whistled shrilly to the oxen and hauled back on the reins to check them to a walk as the road sloped sharply in front of them. An overturned sledge had spilled its contents onto the roadbed and the Bondless owners shouted obscenities at each other in between barked orders to the Notouch women scrambling to retrieve the canvas-wrapped packages before they were trampled under foot or hoof. The walls drew closer here, leaving less room for traffic overflow. Even with the wind, it felt more like being inside than outside.

The sight of the Narroways city wall stretching across the breadth of the canyon only reinforced the sensation.

There was, as usual, a line at the city gates. King Silver’s men stopped each sledge, inspected its contents, and leveled the extortionary duty on it. The Kings of Narroways got away with their legalized highway robbery because Narroways stood at the junction of three of the most populated corridors of the Realm. If you didn’t go through the city, you added at least two weeks to your travel time. And if the weather turned bad in those two weeks, your cargo and your life could be washed away down into the Lif marshes.

The sun was fully up over the walls now and beating down on the damp, confined air of the canyon, raising clouds of steam from the mud and the smell of sweat from the oxen, and, Jay admitted ruefully, from him. He tossed his cape back over his shoulder to try to let some of the breeze reach him.

A fresh crosswind bore down out of Narroways and Jay had to swallow against his own bile. The wind carried the scent of spices, sure, and cooking food and burning tallow. But it also carried the scent of acrid smoke, rotting garbage, unwashed humans, and overworked animals, all mixed with the reek from unburied shit, both from the animals and their owners. The stench of the cities was yet another item on the long list of things he had never managed to get used to.

Finally, they drew up to the gates and Cor raised up her hands in the universal salute. The soldier looked at her marks, then at her warmth-reddened skin, then at her startling green eyes and yanked himself back.

“And the Nameless hold you dear, too,” she said sweetly and drove the sledge on through.

Despite its location, Narroways had not been built for traffic. The houses huddled shoulder to shoulder, eyeing each other across thread-thin, mud-paved streets. When the floods came, the residents simply slung rope-and-chain bridges from one roof to the next and went about their business.

As in most fixed towns, both business and living was done on the second floor. Shutters the size of doorways opened up from verandas to catch any breeze and light the day decided to give out. Merchants posted their children on the steps to sound off about what waited for sale inside and to tend the torches smoking the worst of the insects away from the doors.

Today the whole world seemed determined to cram itself into the streets. A dozen caravan traders had wedged animals and sleighs into cramped alleys while they bartered and traded insults with the fixed merchants. The accompanying mobs of soldiers and families spread through the streets. Their bold robes spilled color through the solid stream of rust and earth dyes worn by even the Noble born of Narroways. The hot wind wrapped itself around the jarring noise of too many people in too little space, picked up the smells of food, spices, perfumes, and sweat and mixed it all into a dense morass and spread it out again.

There was barely enough room for Cor to get the sledge through even the main streets and they raised a cloud of curses from the foot travelers as she tried. The city passed around them in a series of miniature plays. Ahead on the left, a Bonded woman argued spice prices with a peddler. To the right, two Bondless toasted each other with a crock of wine. A troop of soldiers on oxen splashed gutter filth on a cluster of Notouch and tossed loud obscenities at each other. An old man with a Teacher’s suns tattooed on his palms laid his hands on a child’s burned face while a woman in a saffron-colored cloak looked anxiously on. Jay heard the child’s gasp even over the babble of street noises.

Cor eased the sledge around a tight corner, and the High House slid into view.

The High House was an honorary name for the King’s dwelling. It squatted level with the other buildings behind its own set of carved walls. Even in broad daylight there were six guards at the gate. Cor shouted to them and they hauled back the iron gates to let the sledge through. The courtyard on the other side was empty. They saw no one until they pulled up to the stable. A couple of Bonded hustled the wagon indoors and Cor with them.

“Good luck.” She waved as she left Jay on his own.

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

The blood-warm rain started down before he was halfway across the courtyard. Jay ducked his head and hauled on his hood to try to keep himself dry. He peeked under the edge to get his bearings. The door lamp glimmered invitingly four feet above the courtyard.

A wind shear drove straight down out of the sky with such force that Jay staggered. He gripped the stair railings and struggled to climb up to the main doors.

This. This is what we’ve wandered for centuries to get back to. This is what we’re ready to go to war with our own kind over. He stumbled into the doorway. I swear, if I didn’t think they’d just abandon me here, I’d tell them we don’t want this place. Tell them it’s a dying, corroded heap of rocks. I swear the only reason I keep going is so that someone will get me off this forsaken world.

“My Lord Messenger,” said a man’s voice.

Jay straightened up. Your day-use name, the first of whatever series you might be lumbered with, was often not so much a name as a description. Jay’s was Messenger for the Skymen and the skinny, wrinkled man in front of him was Holding the Keys, King Silver’s chief secretary and step-and-fetch-it man. Next to him stood a Bonded boy carrying a basin of steaming water in one hand and a plate of biscuits in the other. A clean towel was slung over his arm.

Jay read the scene. The King wanted to see him, now. The footbath and food were the polite greeting for an arrival, but he wouldn’t be given time to sit down and enjoy them.

“The King wishes you to attend her at once,” said Holding, while Jay stripped off his boots and quickly rinsed his feet in the basin as the boy set it down. “She sent me to see that you do not delay.”

Jay frowned. King Silver was young, greedy, unreasonable, and hadn’t learned not to whine in meetings yet, but she wasn’t easily panicked. He donned the pair of slippers that the boy produced from the pouch at his belt and wolfed down a biscuit that tasted like wood chips. Something must be going on. Something unexpected.

Jay followed Holding through the stone halls. The lamps in the great hall were lit. The audience was expected soon, then. The Seablades must have beaten him through the gates.

The corridors Holding led Jay through were stone-cold, despite the heat of the day outside. Coal fires in the hearths took off some of the chill but the clay statues and bas-reliefs set against the walls did nothing to soften appearances.

Holding the Keys marched Jay straight to the King’s private study. It was one of the few rooms on the second floor that sported a real door. Holding knocked.

“Whoever it is, you had better have Messenger with you!” shrilled the King from the other side.

“I have, My King.” Holding swung the door back and stood aside.

Jay marshaled his wits and walked across the threshold.

The study was a jumble of precious wooden furniture piled with vellum scrolls and clumsily bound books. It had been built around one of the eight “shadow pillars” that helped support the High House. Silver said her great-great-great-grandmother had ordered the House built over them, as a reminder that the Kings of Narroways were supported by the Nameless Powers.

Jay had actually considered saying a grace for Silver’s grandmother. The pillar and its weird, blobby shadows had sent the Unifiers looking for the underground chambers that had yielded their only real clues to the workings of the Home Ground.

King Silver stooped over her chart bowl, the Realm’s equivalent of a globe. It was literally a deep bowl with a map of the Realm painted on its inside.

“There is word,” she said, not giving Jay any chance to observe formalities, “that a contingent of soldiers from First City, maybe as many as one hundred, has vanished. Now, where, Messenger of the Skymen, do you suppose they have gone?”

Even by the standards of the Realm, Silver on the Clouds was a tiny woman, which might account for her perpetual belligerence. The scarlet ribbon tattoo that adorned a King outlined her jaw and brow. It stretched badly whenever she gathered her face up into a frown.

Jay mustered a calm tone. “I expect they have gone to take up a new position in case their delegation fails to make peace with Your Majesty.”

“I expect that is the truth. Further, I expect that I would not have to worry about them if you would loan me a few of your Skyman miracles so my generals could fend them off. Or perhaps your masters are not so anxious to see Narroways the sole and whole power of the Realm as you have said.”

So we’re back to that. “Majesty, I have asked for weapons. I have been refused…”

“Then you will ask again!” she shrieked, and Jay took a step back. “I will tell you this, Skyman, this war eats at my city. My commanders grow uneasy. A King with uneasy commanders is not long safe, Skyman, and I treasure my safety. Be assured, if I must hand my name back to the Nameless Powers, I will not be doing so alone.”

“You are winning.”

“Yes.” She rested her hands on the edge of the bowl. “But I am winning slowly. If this war we make is not finished soon, Skyman, I will cease to win at all. I will lose and the walls of Narroways will come crashing down over my funeral pyre.”

She pushed past him. “You will stand beside me and hear what the Seablades have to say for themselves.”

“As always, Your Majesty.” Jay did not shake his head at her back, but he wanted to. There were days he seriously regretted helping Silver depose her grandfather.

Holding the Keys, with his typical efficiency, had assembled King Silver’s honor guard outside her door. She had expected them to be there and breezed into the center of the ranks. They snapped to attention and marched forward, leaving Jay and Holding to fall into step behind.

The procession reached the threshold of the audience hall and a dozen Bonded touched tapers to the lamps hanging from its rough walls just as the King stepped in. Light flickered against gold and steel jewelry only to be absorbed again by the dull colors of the clothing of the assembled courtiers.

Like everyone else, the Seablade delegation raised their hands before their faces as the King’s procession passed. Jay read the marks from the corners of his eyes. Nobles, all of them. Three family members, one of whom was Heart of the Seablade. Jay suppressed a sigh of relief. He would at least be able to get some accurate information about First City’s plans. That might just be enough to placate King Silver.

King Silver mounted her dais and stood there. Kings did not have the luxury of sitting through their audiences. Silver could stand for hours without fidgeting, a skill that amazed Jay in spite of himself.

Silver lifted her chin. “It having reached my ears that my kindred in First City would send me words concerning our war, I have brought myself and my Witness forth to hear them.” Her voice was too high and thin for the chamber, even though it was bolstered by the ringing formalities of the high command dialect. “Therefore, choose who among you will speak and let the others bear back witness as to my attentiveness and the full nature of my answer.”

Two of the Seablades detached themselves from the delegation. Heart of the Seablade scrupulously avoided looking at Jay. His wife, Mind of the Seablade, the blood daughter of the house, on the other hand, seemed determined to keep her attention riveted on him.

The Seablades raised their hands to King Silver in greeting.

“I am Lady Mind kenu Mind of the Seablade dena Constant Watcher,” said the daughter of the house. “I am chosen to speak for the blood Nobles, the Bondless, and the Bonded who are attached to the House and Lands where the Blade is the symbol and the protection. I have leave and permission to speak also for Wall’s Shadow, my King in First City.” She lowered her hands. “I say that the blood will spill until the floods are red and still we will not yield to this unprovoked and unnatural war that is fought by the master of Narroways only because her wit and will has been stolen by the Messenger of the Skyman dena Aunorante Sangh.”

Bad enough.

“I am Teacher Heart kenu Heart of the Seablade kenu Fortunate Speaker dena Shadow of the World’s Wall,” said her husband. “I speak for the Temple and the Teachers. Because this war is provoked by the Aunorante Sangh we say that the power-gifted are free to act against them. We also say that Narroways no longer hears the Word in the Temple and those attached to her, like all Heretics, must die.”

Jay had to give Heart this much credit, he held his voice steady as he delivered his pronouncement. But then, he’d said it before. The First Teacher believed firmly in repetition.

“There is forgiveness yet by the law and the Word if Silver on the Clouds as master of Narroways closes the breach in her own heart that let the Aunorante Sangh into her city.”

Oh-ho. This was the first time an offer of compromise had been extended from the Orthodox delegates. Could it be that King Silver’s not the only one nearing the end of her rope?

King Silver touched the tattooed ribbon that adorned her brow. “By the marks of kingship and family, I declare that I and my company have heard and understood the message that you do bear. Now, I charge you hear my words.” She lowered her hand. “Those who call themselves the Teachers in First City are but liars. They are the ones who listen to the Aunorante Sangh, not I. Otherwise, they would speak the truth and say that the Messenger, the Listener, and the Scribe, who are all of the Skymen, do no more than bring us greetings from the brothers who have found us in this place where we were moved by the Servant of the Nameless. The Teachers would kill our brothers. I would defend them. I will not change my mind nor stay the hands of those who take up arms in my cause. If there is to be peace, you must cease this threat against our brethren, or you must take my city from under my rain-polished bones.”

Jay’s stomach turned over. The fate of the Home Ground hung in the balance and it was being argued over by these…things…who were so out of control that they didn’t remember who they were or know what they were really fighting about.

“King Silver on the Clouds,” said Mind. “The dark seasons are coming to the Realm. It can do none of us any good to pursue this war when we should be pursuing a harvest and the stocking of coal and oils.”

“Then lay down your arms and welcome your brothers,” said Silver. “Harbor no murderous thoughts among you. Accept that I am the one chosen to speak for the Realm to the Skymen. This will end the matter.”

“Oh, no, Your Majesty,” said Heart. “It will not even come close.”

Who is that talking, Heart? Jay wondered. Is that actually your voice I’m hearing?

“Is there more to be said?” inquired Silver.

“Not by us and not at present, King Silver,” said Mind, giving Heart a hard look.

“We thank Your Majesty for your attention,” said Heart.

The Seablades retreated into their cluster of servants. The honor guard held the doors open for them to walk through.

When the doors banged shut again, Jay sighed inwardly and tried not to shift his weight. King Silver, oblivious of his discomfort, called her councilors up to the dais and proceeded to review the interview with them in detail, analyzing the contents of the Seablades’ statements, deciding what messages to send, what spies to contact, what orders to issue. Jay eased his weight gingerly from his heels to his toes and back again and tried to pay attention.

At last, the King dismissed them and Jay hurried out of the hall.

Despite Silver’s constant public announcements as to their importance, the King had not wanted her Skymen to get above themselves, so she had assigned Jay and Cor quarters outside the main building. To get to his rooms, Jay had to cross a roofed, stone bridge with sides open to the wind and weather. With its usual abruptness, the rain had stopped and the sun had turned the day into a steam bath. By the time he was through the door to the side building, he was drenched with sweat.

Unlike the King’s study, Jay’s room had nothing but a tapestry hanging in the threshold to keep him screened from the passersby. Jay pushed past it and paused for a moment to savor the night’s cool that had been trapped by the room’s stone walls.

Chiding himself for forgetting the immediate business, Jay pulled back the burgundy curtains. The window actually had a pane of glass that rattled only a little in the wind. Heart knew which room was Jay’s. If he was watching, he would see the opened curtains, and hopefully be able to make his excuses to his wife and get away. Jay didn’t want to have to wait until dark for the news. He needed to have plans before then.

“Jay?” called a voice through the door-curtain. “It’s Cor.”

“Come in, come in.” He held the curtain back for her.

Cor brushed by him and he caught a glimpse of the dark circles under her eyes. She slumped into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. “How’d it go?”

Jay shook his head. “I could’ve asked for better.” He described the audience to her. Cor grunted.

“Jay,” she said to the ashes on the hearth, “remind me why we’re doing this.”

Oh, no.

“Because we need to accomplish the reunification of the Human Family,” he said, sitting across from her. “And because the Vitae really don’t want us to.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten about that last bit.”

“What’s the matter, Cor?”

“Nothing new,” she rubbed her forehead. “I’ve just gone native. It’s my job, after all. Someone has to completely understand the new membership so we can make them at ease when they join the Family.” She said the words like she was reading them off the flagstone floor.

Don’t do this to me, Cor. I can’t manage you on top of the King, and Lu, and Heart. “We are doing this because we have to.” Both of us are.

“Jay?” The door curtain moved and Heart stepped into the room.

Cor raised her hands to the Teacher so smoothly it might have been a reflex. Heart bowed toward her absentmindedly, with his hands held up so the golden suns tattooed on his palms flashed in the watery daylight.

“What’s the news, Heart?” asked Jay quickly as Heart moved to stand next to him. And please, please let it be something I can use.

Heart shrugged and leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece. “Our city is hard-pressed,” he said, running his knuckle along a crack in the stone. “The dissent among our neighbors is strong and we have little help. The Realm waits to see who wins this war, Narroways or First City, and then it shall decide what to do.”

Jay knotted his fist. “We need you to help make sure King Silver is victorious, Heart. What can you tell us of First City’s state of affairs?”

Heart hesitated, leaning heavily against his arm. Cor stood and offered the Teacher her chair. He took it with thanks.

“I do this because we were lied to in the Temple,” he said, raising his eyes as if he were pleading with them, “because we’re dying. The Nameless have withdrawn their favor from their people. Our children are born dead or deformed or of the wrong lines. And the Teachers say it is not so. They say we think there’s trouble because we do not see with the Servant’s eyes. They say that as long as we repeat the Words of the Nameless in the Temple, all will always be well.”

Cor gave Jay a sideways glance and then looked quickly out the window. What’re you really seeing out there? Jay wondered. Who have you been talking to?

Heart was shaking his head. “King Wall’s troops are going to be pulled from Tiered Side to defend the outer towns of First City. They’ll be there in three days. If King Silver meets them before they reach there, First City will lose valuable and timely help. But you should move quickly. There’s a delegation from First City in Terminus Height, and they may be wavering in their resolution to stand beside you.” His face grew uneasy. “You have worked too few miracles, Skyman. There are those who doubt you can bring us any good, as King Silver needs must fight so long and so hard to gain any ground with you at her side.”

Jay and Cor exchanged a long look.

What do we tell them? That the Board decided not to risk arming a telekinetic race whose world contains who-knows-what powers that they might still be able to use, even if all they have are superstitions to guide them? Somehow I think we’ll lose even Heart’s support if I come across with that.

“I shall tell the King.” Jay straightened up. “I shall also tell my masters, be assured.”

“Thank you.” Heart stood. “I need to get back to my chambers. My wife, you know.” He turned back to the threshold and Jay walked beside him.

“Heart,” he whispered as he lifted the door-curtain, “the King told me a garrison of one hundred troops has gone missing from the ranks of First City. Do you know where they may have been sent?”

Heart looked startled. “I have heard nothing of this. I will see what I can find out for you.”

“You have our thanks, Heart.” Jay let the curtain fall back into place and waited until he heard the Teacher’s footsteps fade down the hall.

“We’ve got to see them armed,” he said to Cor’s back. “Silver’s losing support, even though she’s winning. We’re losing support because we’re not stronger than the myths. The Vitae are going to show up soon. If we don’t have this place locked down before then, then all our time and effort, it’s for nothing and the Vitae will let these…people loose on the Human Family.”

“The Vitae might just kill them,” said Cor without turning around. “They don’t think much of genetic engineering on humans.”

No, thought Jay. I don’t think they’d kill this crowd. But he said nothing. Cor was trying to convince herself they were doing the best thing possible, and he needed to let her succeed.

“All right.” Cor faced him and folded her arms as if she were trying to keep out a chill. “Tomorrow we can go back to the shelter. Find out what luck Lu’s had with the Notouch. If there hasn’t been anything, then I’ll back you on the call for arms. I mean, there’s not that many power-gifted and it’s becoming very obvious that without Stone in the Wall and her family, no one knows what the story is with the arias.”

“Thank you,” said Jay seriously.

Cor gave him a watery smile. “Keep well ’til then, Jay.”

“Keep well.”

She left and Jay sagged onto the bed. There’s a chance we can still take this place. A good chance. He stared out toward the window and fingered his torque. If we can just get moving. The torque beeped. Jay’s heart leapt to his throat. The torque beeped again, and again, and once more for good measure.

Blood and bones. Jay pulled the translator disk out of his ear. It can’t be time already!

With his free hand, he undid the catch on his torque. The signal said this transmission couldn’t be handled with the usual setup. It would be coming from too far away, at too high a frequency. He slid the disk into a barely visible socket on the torque’s side and waited.

“Jahidh, this is Kelat. The First Company has landed in the Home Ground and I am with them. You have about two hundred hours left before Second Company comes down to reclaim the populated regions. What is the state of your operations?”

Jay stared incredulously at the torque. “Kelat, I don’t know,” he said. What do you think I’m doing? he added silently. Running a lab experiment? Controlling a team of Beholden? “The Unifier cause is a mess, I’ve managed that much, but I’m also standing in the middle of it. We may have finally found another artifact like Stone in the Wall, but I won’t know for sure until I’ve heard from Lu.”

“Contact me directly when you have more news.” The torque fell silent.

Jay refastened the torque around his neck. Their conversations had to be brief, he knew that. Lu might not be the most conscientious systems handler alive, but he had designed some highly efficient watch programs to make up for it. But somehow, knowing Kelat was within reach made his isolation that much sharper.

We weren’t meant to work alone, he sighed. Father was right about that much.

Jay lifted the lid on the chest beside the bed with one hand and loosened the belt on his overtunic with the other. He peeled off the stiff cloth and pitched it onto the chair for the Bonded to pick up for washing. He unstrapped the gun belt next. His gun was the only one the Unifier committee had voted to allow onto the planet. It was a barbaric projectile weapon. It made too much noise and too much blood, but it was impressive. It was for an emergency, if they needed to scare these people who could kill with a touch.

Jay remembered the first project he’d ever worked on as an apprentice engineer. The Vitae had been contracted to create a security network for Eispecough, one of the countries of an embattled world called Toth. Basq, proud of Jay’s engineering aptitudes, or maybe just seeking the extra status that would come from proving his son was brilliant, had gotten him assigned to the job of designing the module links. He’d worked hard, almost fanatically, and watched the network grow. He remembered his pride, both of place and accomplishment.

Then, there’d been an election in Eispecough and a new government moved in. They canceled the contract and told the Vitae to leave. The Vitae did leave, because that was their way. Work for hire only and when told to go, take the severance payment and go. Jay had kept a surreptitious eye on his work, just to see how it held up. He’d even done a little remote repair work on the code. Basq had known about it and kept it quiet. Contractor Kelat had found out, however, and had Jay removed from Basq’s custody, citing that Basq, by over-permissiveness, had allowed his child to become a danger to Vitae public dealings.

Three local months later, there was a civil war in Eispecough and the network was destroyed. The Vitae did nothing. Their work wasn’t theirs. Their vision wasn’t theirs. They’d abandon it all to chaos, because they would not take responsibility for their vision.

The Imperialists wanted to change that. They saw the change that was happening in the Quarter Galaxy. The Vitae in their fearful isolation had made no friends, established no colonies, and claimed no servants. They survived because many civilizations in the Quarter Galaxy considered them useful, and so they were used. But that could change as colonies and stations grew ripe with their own histories and technologies. There might just come a day when the Vitae went from being respected experts to being beggars, unless they established real power. Unless they began issuing contracts instead of just obeying them.

That, no matter what his father said, was the real work.

Jay weighed the weapon in his hand for a long moment before he laid it carefully in the chest. He couldn’t see the angle on any of the shadows from here, but he had the distinct feeling tomorrow was still a long, long way off.

Cor left Jay’s room without looking back. Her thoughts crowded around her like a cloud of biting flies and she was so busy trying to shoo them away so she could find some kind of understanding, that she lost track of where she was going. She looked up, blinking at the shadows and squinting at the stonework. The relief carving of the three Crooker trees told her she was almost to the dining hall. Her stomach rumbled. Food would help clear her head and warm her cold hands.

The hall itself was a broad, solid, graceless chamber. The space between the tables and benches was taken up either by stone pillars or by coal fires carefully banked in their own ashes. When she’d first gotten here, Cor had found the acrid heat suffocating. Now she breathed it into her lungs as a source of comfort and reassurance. This far into the house it was never warm. The day’s heat was not strong enough to penetrate the stone, but the night’s cold never seemed to have that problem.

And it’ll do nothing but get worse, she thought. The Dark Seasons are coming.

Averand, her homeworld, could zip around its sun forty times in the time it took the Realm to skulk once around the Eyes of the Servant. She remembered when she first saw the simulation of the Realm’s orbit. It circled the binary warily, swinging in almost too close, then backing off almost too far, always riding the bare edge of tolerance as it made its long, slow way around its stars. It was on its way out to the far, cold edge now.

Ceramic pots stood in the ashes at the edge of the fires. Cor snagged a red clay bowl off a table she passed and dipped it into the nearest jar to shovel out a helping of porridge, mushrooms, and overcooked chicken meat. She glanced over the jar, looking hopefully for a flat dish of baking bread, but didn’t see any. She sighed at the porridge. It’d keep her from starving, but not do much more than that. Even the Nobility kept barely at a subsistence level in the time when there was more day than night.

She thought about Raking Coals, who brought his sledge in every tenth day and kept asking her what price she set her own hands at with a broad wink and a happy leer. And the Oilbrake sisters, who carried fifty-pound sacks of grain on their backs when their pair of oxen went lame and still whistled at the stable boys who crossed the courtyards. And the Notouch daughters who scrambled this way and that in the courtyard, grabbing up the feathers that came down like snow when the house’s Bonded sat on the roof and plucked chickens.

It was a filthy, hard, stupid life, and if the Vitae got hold of them, it would vanish.

And if the Family gets hold of them? Cor dropped onto the bench and stuck her fingers into her bowl, shoving the food into her mouth before it went cold.

She’d been sent down with the team when the Unifiers still thought these people were Family. She’d hunkered down and learned the language and the customs and made friends as fast as she could. She learned to tell jokes and to laugh at them. She learned to pitch in with the work of the Bondless and to defer to the Teachers and the Nobility. She could recite the Words of the Nameless in the Temple on the tenth day and navigate using nothing but the walls around her. She’d deliberately set out to find anything and everything she could admire and respect about the culture. It was her job. She’d trained for it specially for years.

Then the word came down. These weren’t Family. These people were artificially created. Nothing like this had ever been found before. New policy would have to be formulated as soon as the extent of the engineering could be understood.

Policy? She scowled at her bowl and her porridge-spattered fingers. Jay’s voice had been flat and unquestioning when he delivered the message. As if there could be any policy for this world except getting them some decent food and a way to keep warm and dry through a twenty-year winter. These people who worked and starved and slaved and still sang and loved and told really, really obscene jokes.

Behold the noble savage, she thought grimly. Cor, Cor, Cor. They’re dirty and ignorant and so enslaved to their superstition that they don’t even know what they’re standing on top of. Come out of it, woman. It’s a raw deal, of course, but the worst the Family does’ll be better than the best the Vitae’ll do.

Cor scooped up another mouthful of porridge.

Of course it will.

A sharp ringing in her ear made her jerk and Cor nearly sent her bowl crashing to the floor. After a moment she realized it was her translation disk. She balanced her bowl in her dirty hand and tapped the disk twice.

“Cor, Jay,” said Lu’s voice. “Get yourself back here and move it like you mean it.”

Cor shot up straight and shoved the heel of her hand against the torque. “What is it?” she demanded, forgetting to whisper like they usually did over the e-comm links.

“We hit diamond. I think. I…look, just get back here.”

“On our way,” came Jay’s voice.

Cor sucked the last of the porridge off her fingers and deposited her bowl on the table for the Bonded to find later. She hurried through the halls and across the walks of the High House, shouldering past anyone who didn’t get out of the way fast enough, barely pausing to raise her hands to them. Something could have happened down in the smooth shadowy tunnels under the shelter. Maybe something finally switched on or came alive. Something real and comprehensible. That idea shone like a freshly lit lantern.

“Jay.” Cor slapped his threshold and pulled the door-curtain back at the same time. He was sitting on his bed, shoving his right foot into his boot.

“Where’s your gear?” he demanded. “Come on, we’ve got to get moving. We’ve only got a couple of hours until nightfall.”

“Have you got us leave from the King?”

A spasm of distaste crossed Jay’s features. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it. You get the sledge ready. We need to move it!”

“All right, all right. I’ll bring everything round to the main courtyard.” She let the curtain drop. She was halfway down the corridor before she was able to put a name to the strained, stark expression on Jay’s face. He was scared. No, he wasn’t just scared, he was so panicked that he didn’t care what she saw.

What in any hell could panic a Vitae? Even an ex-Vitae?

Her throat tightened but she didn’t let it slow her down. Jay needed to get back to the shelter. They needed to find out what was going on and get that information back home. That was her other job. She was to learn everything, immerse herself in everything, and at the very end, it was her absolute responsibility to get out with what she knew.

In the back of her mind a voice said Jay was not going to make that easy. She gave a mental shrug to silence it and concentrated on not skidding on the slick flagstones of the open walkway that led to the stables.

“Skater! Sight!” She shouted the stable keepers’ names imperiously and added a loud whistle. The pair of squat, Bonded men scrambled into view from between the oxen’s fat bodies. “I need the sledge. Let’s get it done.”

They passed their hands briefly in front of their eyes and sprang into action. With whistles and wordless shouts, they bullied a quartet of oxen into place and started strapping them to the yokes while Cor knotted and buckled the leather reins into place. She tried not to think about how the oxen’s eyes looked so much like Skater’s, or how once upon a time she never would have ordered another person around like that.

I am not here to judge. I’m here to learn and get the news out so they can all join the Family.

Except they’re not going to get to.

It’s still got to be better than this. She caught up the driving stick and slapped the rump of the left, rear ox.

“Move, you lumps!” she hollered. The sledge scraped forward over straw and mud out onto rutted dirt and rock.

Jay jogged up to the sledge and swung himself clumsily up next to the driver’s stand before she could call the team to a halt.

“Keep going,” he said, clambering back to sit on the crates.

Cor managed to keep the reflexive jerk in her arms from tightening the reins. The oxen plodded forward toward the main gate.

“What’s with you, Jay?” She tried to catch sight of him out of the corner of her eye, and still keep her other eye on the approaching gate.

“I think I know where that missing hundred went.” He was looking past her shoulder, toward the heights. His face was still strained as he scanned the tops of the roofs and the distant walls.

“Are you going to tell me, or are you seeing scars on my hands?” The saying popped out before she could stop it. Her knuckles tightened on the reins and she had to just nod at the guards at the gates. Only one of them looked up. The other five had their eyes fixed on the commander coming down from the staircase alongside the wall.

The sledge jostled through the gate and Cor had to keep her eyes on the ruts in the half-dry road as well as the walls of the houses that defined the narrow streets. She pulled on the reins and whistled to the oxen to steer the sledge in something approaching the right direction.

“They’re here,” said Jay.

“What!” Cor glanced wildly from the street, to Jay and back again. She meant to tell him he had lost his mind, but her surroundings were beginning to penetrate through acclimatized eyes and her brain was starting to realize something was wrong.

Narroways was a noisy place, and this afternoon was no exception. There was noise and plenty of it. Shouting and hollering bounced off the close-packed buildings and cut through the steamy wind. Every blacksmith in the city seemed to be at his forge, hammering away. But there weren’t any children on the stairways, just the tops of beads and glimpses of faces bobbing to and fro on the roofs. No pedestrians crowded the streets. No soldiers on their oxen jostled them aside. There was just the shouting and the clattering and…

“Skyman!” shouted a voice.

A stone whizzed past and Cor ducked. The oxen halted in confusion. Jay hauled open the sledge’s canvas cover. The missing people spilled into the street like a flood down a canyon, driven by soldiers in the First City uniform. The noise hadn’t been blacksmiths, but swords. People ran into the houses, trying to get out of the way of the fray, but some were making a stand, with whatever they had at hand. Bodies draped in ponchos so she couldn’t tell if they were men or women surged around the soldier’s oxen waving sticks and hatchets. The soldiers flailed with swords and clubs. Stones from slings shot through the air indiscriminately.

The lead oxen bellowed and reared, giving Cor something she could concentrate on. She hauled hard on the reins and whacked their broad backs with her stick, poking and shouting, reminding the stupid beasts that they were more afraid of her than of anything in front of them. The sledge lurched forward.

But there’s a truce! her mind cried.

First City is a bunch of sticklers for…

First City is losing. Badly. But they knew Narroways couldn’t afford to prolong the war. They were ready to risk two minor members of their Noble house in a gambit to knock what was left of Silver’s support out from under her.

And they wouldn’t feel it was much of a risk if they knew that Heart of the Seablade was a Heretic.

Cor shouted at the oxen and smacked at them with the reins. The big, stupid beasts bellowed and stamped forward. Hands grabbed her arm and for a split second she saw an angry round face and felt herself dragged off-balance. Jay almost fell forward and smashed a heavy fist across the stranger’s mouth. The hands fell away and Cor regained her footing.

The oxen were panicking now, all of them fighting through the surging, clamoring mob to try to find enough room to run. Cor gave them all the rein she could. Animal instinct and a ton of mindless fear might just clear the way for them. Another pair of hands snatched at her. She smacked flesh with her driving stick and heard a voice howl. More hands. She struck out again. More screams, more white eyes, more confused colors on earth brown skin. She lashed out again and again, the noise of battle fading fast behind a ringing in her ears and a sick swirling in her head.

Jay loosened his jerkin and pulled out the gun.

He hunched beside Cor, drew a bead on the thickest ranks of the First City soldiers, and squeezed the trigger.

The soldiers of both sides exploded. Blood and flesh sprayed everywhere with the sound of the shots echoing between the houses. The fray turned into a stampede as they screamed and fled. Cor urged the oxen forward and they tried hard to break into a run to get away from the noise and the blood.

“Brilliant!” she shouted hysterically. “Now you’ll have half of Narroways convinced we’re the Aunorante Sangh!”

Jay didn’t answer. He just leveled the gun toward the fleeing backs and fired again.

“Over their heads, you animal!” Cor shrieked, but she didn’t have the luxury of turning to see if he’d done it. The oxen had spotted the gates and they were barreling forward. It was all she could do to keep a grip on the reins. The maddened beasts were about to yank her arms out of their sockets. She couldn’t slow them, couldn’t steer them. A river of would-be refugees clogged the gateway in front of the wagon, but the oxen were beyond caring.

“Outta the way!” she screamed. “Runaway! Runaway! Get outta the way!”

The walls closed in too tight and her voice rode too high and thin over the incoherent crowd. Backs fell into the mud and more screams rang through the air. All she could do was keep her numb fingers wrapped around the reins and pray they’d get out of the crush soon.

They made it through the gates in a blur of light and shadow and burst out onto the open road. The oxen stampeded down the flattest path through the crowd that was surging out in all directions. Sleighs and sledges rocked and swung to get out of their way, people scattered as if a wind blew them apart. Pain began to creep up from Cor’s clenched hands and down from her clenched jaw.

They were ahead of the crowd now, with the worst of the noise and riot pounding at their backs. Cor could separate out the bellows of the oxen from the screams of people. The sledge lurched and jumped badly as it hit the unyielding ruts in the road. She gathered nerve and muscle, braced her feet against the slats on the floor, and threw all her weight backward, dragging the reins up against her chest.

The oxen bawled and the left lead tossed his head hard. Cor gritted her teeth until she was sure they’d crack and hung on. The sledge skipped across another series of ruts, but the team slowed down and stopped.

” What’re you doing!” shouted Jay, dropping into Standard.

“Shut up!” Cor snapped back. “Just sit down and shut up!” She ran her hands across the oxen’s sides, feeling the way they trembled and how their lungs heaved. She jerked on the harness, checking the knots and straps to make sure everything was tight. She closed her mind against the sight of the rust brown blotches that soaked up the layers of dust on the team’s bald, pale legs.

When she was satisfied the tack wouldn’t come undone, she resumed the driver’s stand and slapped the reins. The oxen obeyed the gesture and lumbered forward. The countryside was deserted. In the brash and trees Jay saw knots of oxen and people, fleeing from the city. Word must have spread that there was fighting in Narroways and they were all clearing the road. Cor set her teeth gingerly to avoid reawakening the ache that ran all the way down to her shoulders and pressed the oxen’s pace up the rise toward where the world bent. She tried to forget that Jay was sitting at her back with the gun resting on his knees. She tried to tell herself that he had just done what he had to. They had to get clear of the crowd. If she’d been dragged down, she would have been killed and he would have been trapped. She had to get out. It was her job. She had to get away. And they weren’t Family anyway and they weren’t ever going to be and whatever they did now was better than what the Vitae would do later.

She tried to pray that King Silver’s troops were mustered and giving the First City troops all the hell there was to hand out. They had to win so the Unifiers could win.

In the end, all she had the strength to try to do was not be sick.

Up ahead, the canyon had gone black. The oxen dragged them past the shadow line and Cor squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them and peered through the murky night. She didn’t look back. She’d never learned to enjoy watching the daylight get swallowed up.

Jay was rummaging around in the cargo boxes. The noise stopped and he came forward to hook a pair of powered lanterns to the sledge’s awning, one on either side of Cor’s head. He looked at her, but neither one of them said anything.

The lanterns made a clear puddle of light to show her which way to drive the oxen, but did nothing to draw the teeth of the wind that had turned vicious in the darkness. She tried to read the mottled clouds. No breaks in the sky meant rain all too soon. Just enough light touched the Wall ahead to show her the jag and split that marked the entrance of the thread canyon where the shelter waited.

She halted the sledge and, even though she could feel Jay’s impatience like a weight on her shoulders, she unhitched the oxen. If the gods knew what was going on or how long it would take to clear it up, they weren’t talking. She slapped the oxen alternately with her hand and her stick until they ambled away. Somebody’d find them and take them in. Left tied up to a tree, they might just freeze before sunup. The Realm held no warmth at all after dark. No one was sure why. Cor had a theory, but she kept it to herself. Theorizing wasn’t part of her job.

Jay had both lanterns in his fists and handed her one. He’d stowed the gun out of sight. The numbing horror of watching him fire so calmly on the crowd was beginning to thaw, but she still couldn’t make herself speak. She motioned for him to go ahead of her.

He grunted something she didn’t try to hear and started up the crevice in the wall that held their little, domed base.

The cold had gotten its teeth well and truly into her bones, as they said, by the time Jay opened the shelter’s door and they stepped, blinking, into the light and warmth. Lu was nowhere to be seen.

“He must be downstairs,” said Jay.

He said it very casually, but that casualness vanished as soon as they peeled back the hatch that covered the tunnel entrance.

Once the silicate had been discovered, she and Jay had paid half a dozen Bondless to take them around to all the exposed patches they could find near Narroways. They’d carried on for only a week before they’d found the hatch.

It had taken Lu three times as long to pry the thing open. At the bottom of the well, a corridor ran straight into the canyon Wall, smooth-sided with an arching roof and level floor and no lighting fixtures at all. The surface of the walls seemed to shift and flow wherever their lights touched them.

About twenty yards past the entrance, the tunnel under the wall turned into another shaft. The platform that covered half the tunnel mouth and was obviously supposed to be used to navigate it was even more stubborn than the hatchway had been. Since they had used the ladder they were issued to get down the first shaft, they had been forced to commission something the people of the Realm actually excelled at. A native-made rope ladder dangled down into the darkness.

Ladders and rope bridges were a part of her daily life now, but it had taken Cor a long time to get used to climbing the thing. It swayed and wriggled under her hands as she descended. Although it was really only ten meters or so to the next level, it always felt like a hundred. She breathed a sigh of relief as the tunnel’s lip came within reach of her toes and she could stand on her own and pry her fingers off the braided rungs. She waved up to Jay’s silhouette so he could start down.

Light shone softly from down the end of the tunnel, too much light for it to be just Lu’s lanterns. Eerie shadows shifted on the wall, even though the light burned steadily. Voices echoed unintelligibly off the walls, but someone was crying.

“Lu?” Cor hurried forward.

“Here.” Distance and echoes made the word ring around her ears.

The light grew and enveloped her as she reached the threshold of the room they’d dubbed “Chamber One.” The curved walls were all made of the same strangely shifting stuff as the tunnel. The frames of the furniture, chairs presumably, were thick with dust from rotted padding. In the sockets on tables set flush to the wall waited fifteen of the gleaming white stones, which the People called arias.

The really unnerving thing was the tanks. After who knew how many thousands of years, there was still liquid in them and in the liquid, there were shapes of things. Whether they were grown things or manufactured, Cor couldn’t have said, but they moved sometimes, sluggishly and without purpose, waiting for commands she didn’t know how to give. She couldn’t help looking at them now, and was relieved to see that the liquid turned smoky in this new, bright light, and she still couldn’t tell what was in there.

Lu stood over the two Notouch waving his hands helplessly, like a father who didn’t know how to comfort a crying child. Trail had her head cradled in her hands and was weeping—long, shuddering sobs that shook her whole body. Cups had her arms around her and crooned to her softly.

“What happened?” asked Cor as she felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

“The lights came on,” said Lu, still gaping down at the Notouch.

“What?” Jay came up behind Cor, breathing hard from his climb.

“The lights came on,” said Lu again, gesturing around the room. Cor saw that the ceiling was glowing in random patches as blobby as the shadows behind the walls, but thankfully, they stayed in fixed positions. “It seems Trail here really is related to Stone in the Wall. She touched the stones"—he waved one hand back toward the banks of holes and arias without looking at them—"and poof!” He spread his hands helplessly.

Cor knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to touch the crying women to comfort them with a friendly hand and kind words. He also knew what would happen. They’d flinch and cower and try to get away. They didn’t know how else to act. They were Notouch.

And if the gods know what else they are…

“You’d better see this, too.” Jay took two hesitant steps toward Chamber One’s “back door,” another threshold leading to a tunnel that was indistinguishable from the one they came down, except for the sign Jay had painted over it saying NOT THIS WAY.

Cor leaned into the corridor. Instantly, a flash of ruby light dazzled her eyes. She blinked hard. Another flash bounced off the tunnel walls, and another.

“Gods in Earth and Hell,” she whispered. “What’s doing that?”

“I haven’t had the guts to go look,” said Lu. “I’ve got a feeling those cables we found got switched on, too.”

Jay slammed both fists against an empty table. “We don’t have time for this!”

Startled, Lu jerked his head up. “What’s with him?”

“First City broke the diplomatic truce,” said Cor. “The war’s going on in Narroways’ streets now.” She gazed around at the arias in their control boards and the creeping things in their transluscent tanks and the shifting, meaningless shadows on the walls.

Lu’d spent days, weeks, recording and cataloging every feature of Chamber One. They’d all spent months entertaining themselves with speculation about what it all meant, and not once did they even come close to understanding it. Then, a superstitious, enslaved woman touched a stone and this room of shadows and riddles lit up like morning itself.

I wish I was Lu, she thought suddenly. I wish the important things were wires and generators and transmitters and keeping everything up and running. I wish I thought people were all basically the same and that if they weren’t acting like it, they would as soon as they had things properly explained to them. I wish I didn’t think we were in way, way over our heads.

“Hey, Diajo-Cor.” Lu made her name into the Averand diminutive. “Are you all right?” He wrapped a skinny, cord-muscled arm around her shoulders and she thought she felt him relax for simply having someone he could touch without panicking them.

She squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Except that I’m too tired for this. I’m too cold, and all the gods come to my aid, I am too scared.

She walked out from under Lu’s arm and stood over Trail and Cups. Trail’s sobbing had quieted to a hoarse, intermittent noise.

“Notouch,” said Cor. “Get up that ladder into the white room. You can sleep by the fire until she’s well enough to talk. Get out of here.”

“As you command, this despised one shall do,” said Cups and there was no mistaking the relief in her voice. Trail moved, jerkily, reflexively, but at least she moved. A lifetime of following whatever orders she was given got her to her feet so she could walk out into the dark tunnel behind her cousin.

Lu watched them leave. “I don’t know for sure what happened to her, but she didn’t like it and I don’t think she’s going to do it again.”

“She’s going to have to,” said Jay.

Cor felt a cold flare of anger go through her. She remembered the sound of gunfire and the sight of blood. “I don’t care who you think you are, Jay, but you can’t make this decision without orders from May 16.”

Jay stabbed a finger down the tunnel. “If King Silver can’t hold Narroways, we’re going to lose any chance of creating a coherent power base before the Vitae arrive. The only other thing we can do is get control of this place.” He leaned forward and Cor saw his jaw shake. “If we don’t, we’re lost. Everything is lost!”

The force of his blunt statement took Cor back. “We have to get the go-ahead. We don’t know what we’re dealing with—”

“We’re dealing with the Vitae.” Jay cut her off. “Listen to me, Cor. Listen hard. Do you know what they’re going to do? They’re going to come in here, round everybody up, sort out the useful ones, and pen them up. While they’re doing that, they’ll be analyzing everything they can get their hands on down here. When they’re done with that they’ll put the two together and see what happens. They’ll measure and they’ll record and they’ll study until they understand it all. Then, while the Unifiers are flailing around out there trying to make political hay in this particular patch of sunshine, they will bring what they’ve learned out into the Quarter Galaxy and do whatever they please!”

“Cor,” said Lu gently, “I don’t like this either, but I’ve got to agree with Jay.” Lu shook his head. “There’s too much power here. But what we need to do first is get those two to introduce us to the rest of Stone in the Wall’s family.”

Cor hadn’t been expecting that, and neither had Jay. His brow furrowed.

Lu sighed exasperatedly as they both obviously failed to comprehend his reasoning. “You both talked to her. Her family’s got an oral tradition handed down from oldest daughter to oldest daughter along with those three arias they carry. It’s garbled as all hell, but we could probably interpret it with a little work.” He paused. “It probably won’t be a whole lot, but it’ll be the closest thing we’re likely to get to an operator’s manual for this…” He waved his hand vaguely toward the tanks and the gleaming arias. “Maybe we can figure out how to get it to work without jumping the people we need straight into shock.”

Jay’s shoulders sagged. “All right,” he said at last. “But we send a message out to May 16, right now, and explain the situation. We get permission to go ahead with what needs doing, no matter what it is or who we need to drag down here.”

There was danger in his voice, almost fanaticism. Cor swallowed her fear because she knew he was right. The war they’d started was going to swallow them up if they didn’t get it settled. The idea was making her sick to her stomach and weak in the knees, but they were running out of merciful options.

Jay still looked grim. “You’re going to find the rest of Stone in the Wall’s family, Cor, so we’re ready when word comes. I’m going with you. I don’t like the way you’ve been talking.”

Cor just nodded. This was wrong. This was not the way it went. If it was necessary to ride out a civil war, that was what you did, ride it out. You didn’t slam your hand down over them. But there was too much at stake here.

Whatever the Family does with the People will be better than what the Vitae will do, she reminded herself.

It has got to be.