Apocalypto (Omnibus Edition)

by L. K. Rigel

  “Peregrines travel in pairs. I thought it was worth a try.”

  The lift descended past the main floor where Edmund generally received courtiers and citizens, below the citadel’s lower chambers, and to the sub-basement, command central for Tesla. They’d added on the drop to the subbasement during the excavation of the Scrolls of Scylla.

  Celia needed to back away from her political schemes. He didn’t want Red City sending a Team of Inquiry to Allel for any reason. He crossed his arms over his chest and let out a frustrated sigh, and Jannes raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been thinking too much.”

  “We can’t have that.” Jannes never smiled, but he did have a dry sense of humor. He spoke more freely than expected from a mere guard captain, not out of disrespect but from self-confidence. His wrists were free of tats, but this was the man Edmund wanted to head security on Tesla.

  “You haven’t met with Counselor.”

  “No, my lord. Haven’t the connections.”

  Good answer. No hint of self-pity or resentment. Counselor screened all citizens appointed to high-level positions. She had no visible logic and failed utterly at strategy, but she was an uncanny reader of people’s motives and loyalties. But not just anyone could get in to see Counselor. It took good family ties or a lucky connection to come to her attention.

  The Great Chain of Being had to mean something.

  The door opened on the sub basement. “You have one connection, Jannes. Me. I’ve asked my sister to see you.”

  “My lord, I am obliged.”

  “Yes. That’s the idea. Go on back up. She’s waiting for you now.”

  Edmund entered the cavernous, semi-secret room below the citadel’s known basement. The left side was taken up by staging materials. In the center, carpenters pounded nails into boards, making cabinets to house computing-enabled command decks. To the right, the design area hosted rows of draft tables and a mock-up of the tidal turbines.

  When the Scrolls of Scylla had been excavated and Garrick had taken triumphal possession, Allel’s citizens had been duly outraged. The city loved to hate Garrick, and its seizure of the world’s most important religious discovery from the very bowels of Allel only added to generations of built-up resentment.

  But Edmund and Counselor had been sanguine, for they knew what was buried beyond the scrolls, what King Jake had hoped to find all the years he and Queen Char had searched for her sister Sky.

  Tesla, and more. If the designs in the vault worked, the hospital could run on continually renewing energy.

  The discovery could free not just Allel but the world from Garrick forever.

  Across the cavernous room from the lift was the tunnel, wide enough for people and parts. The main artery ran far past the citadel and curved along the North Point to end at a disguised outlet in the Lighthouse Inn stables. Another branch ran west, below the bay, then up to the ocean floor to the demonstration module, where the magic would happen.

  In the design section, the project leaders were gathered around a conference table covered with plans and specs. The air was alive with another argument between Dix, the architect, and Steve, the chief engineer. They acknowledged Edmund with nods, but neither let go of the fight.

  He listened for a few minutes then turned to the end of the table. The carpenters’ foreman had held back from the discussion, but Edmund didn’t believe for a second he didn’t have an opinion. “What do you think, Jack?”

  Both Jack’s wrists carried a honeybee tattoo, Allel’s sign of trust and loyalty that went both ways. “I think this is a fine lot of pretty pictures.”

  Groans erupted all around, and Edmund hid his amusement. The carpenters had a begrudging respect for the engineers, he’d noticed, but no love at all for the architect.

  “And this …” Jack jabbed an arthritic index finger at a plan detail “… might stand the pressure for a month or a year. But what about in three years’ time or five? What will ten years of tidal forces do?”

  “Have you never heard of maintenance?” Dix ran a hand over her bald head. She was a ghost, but she wasn’t ghosting. Edmund was proud of Allel’s traditional commitment to ghosts, to help them fight the apathy that accompanied a triggered ghosting gene. He loved to see Dix passionate about anything.

  “Dix is right,” he said. “But Jack makes a fair point. We need this. We’re going to have this. But it’s going to be done right. I never want another Equinox Day.”

  Everyone winced. The massive power failure during the harvest celebration two years ago had taken the hospital down for eight hours. A good lot of these people lost children that day.

  Dix again ran her hand over her head, her lashless eyes intent on the detail Jack had accosted. She was young, but there was already a honeybee tat on her right wrist.

  “How about ...” She inhaled deeply and blew out the air. “Yeah.”

  “Yes, Dix?” Edmund said. “How about?”

  She looked from Edmund to Jack and back to the plans. “How about, instead of the one plant, we build several small modules housing individual turbines. Basically replicate the demonstration module. It would make for better maintenance access.”

  Jack leaned forward, for him an unprecedented display of enthusiasm. “Then if one gives you trouble, you don’t lose your entire capacity.”

  “The demo is ready,” Steve said. “We’ll have usable power in the next day or two. Within weeks you’ll have a full set of Tesla units for the baling nets.”

  Dix’s confidence grew with Jack and Steve’s support. “If we make this change, we could be at full production a year before we hoped. Sooner.”

  “It’s a departure from the vault design.” Edmund’s people were brilliant; he had no doubt of that. But a change this big was a great risk.

  “My lord, we can do it,” Steve said. “It’s a good idea.”

  They all waited for his answer, and they would accept his decision, but Steve wasn’t finished. “These designs were made for a different world, a different time. We should use the knowledge we discovered, but not makes ourselves slaves to it.”

  “Well said. And Dix’s idea has another virtue,” Edmund said. “The power won’t come online all at the same time.”

  “It will be less obvious.” Steve understood at once the strategic advantage of a staggered increase in supply. “No need to raise any curiosity.”

  Edmund held out his arms in mock confusion. “What’s this, architects and engineers and carpenters all happy at the same time?”

  “Make a picture,” Jack said. “Never happen again.”

  Edmund stopped to encourage the carpenters building the consoles then lit a torch from a wall sconce at the tunnel. A forty-minute walk down to the demo and back would give him time to think in silence.

  Solitude was the surprise benefit to this secret hive of activity. Every person on Tesla bore at least one wrist tat, signifying their trustworthiness. He could visit any place within the project perimeter without a security detail. The only other access to the tunnel was in the secure room at the Lighthouse Inn.

  The hum of activity faded away behind him. The tunnel air was silent and almost cold. By the time he reached the fork, he was freezing. He decided instead to go north to the Lighthouse Inn, and the air warmed as he moved closer to the surface.

  In the silence and the torchlight shadows, he thought of Mallory. She was pregnant with Garrick’s counselor. Allel surely wouldn’t be able to afford her after this contract.

  Princess Mallory. Great gods.

  And Celia. She didn’t mind the princess story at all. From the beginning, when Mallory was first discovered, Celia had meant to take advantage of her name for Allel. But if Celia and the Emissary thought to make him Emperor, they were insane.

  The world wasn’t worth the effort. All he wanted to do was protect Allel. The race was on now between practical development of Tesla and the fullness of Garrick’s scheme.

  Many Concord Cities would leap to play a part in the scenario: Garrick m
anufactures justification for world-wide rule, invents a descendent of the old Emperor, and spawns scions off her to restore the “royal line” and empire itself. The Concord Cities sing Hail Garrick and hope to hold on to a fraction of their former power.

  Garrick was welcome to it, if only he’d leave Allel alone. Which he wouldn’t.

  Allel would simply have to win Mallory’s next contract and with it equal claim to the Imperial line, false as it was. It would be their only defense against the power grab. The problem was, it wouldn’t take long for every other city to figure out the same thing. The price Garrick paid for her was going to look like a bargain.

  A warm breeze wafted into the tunnel strong enough to put out his torch. He must be nearer to the inn than he thought. It was a straight path to the door, so he felt his way forward in the dark along the wall.

  Until there was no wall.

  He stumbled and rammed his shoulder against the corner where the wall had fallen away.

  “Shib.” His yell didn’t echo. A glimmer of pastel lights flickered and disappeared some distance ahead. The lights flickered again, like they were teasing him. He walked in their direction, and they steadied and illuminated the way.

  He could see, but the light wasn’t natural; he couldn’t explain why he could see. He was still in the tunnel – a tunnel – but he’d been told nothing about a third passageway. Mysteriously well-lighted, no less. This felt like a lucid dream.

  He emerged into a forest of eucalyptus and pine, and there was blue sky above the trees. He walked on toward the sound of water until he found a pool fed by a waterfall. Beside the pool stood a woman wearing a silk mantle that depicted the Bay of Allel. Her white and gold braid reached the center of her back. She turned and saw him, and her kind brown eyes widened with happiness.

  “Edmund, it’s so good to see you again.”

  A long gust of wind ran flowed through the trees, and the tension he’d been carrying in his neck and shoulders drained away. He felt absolutely content. At the same time, he knew this could not possibly be her. She lightly ran her fingers over his face. Everything in him longed to take her in his arms and kiss her. She even smelled of ylang-ylang, like Mallory.

  “Too much depends on you,” she said. She handed him a cup carved out of walnut filled with water from the pool. “I’ve wanted you for so long now.” She leaned into him, and he dropped the cup and put his arms around her. Shib, it felt like her. She raised her face to his and he kissed her. It was her kiss.

  “No.” He pushed her away and stepped back.

  “Edmund.”

  “You’re not ...”

  “I am, Edmund. I am everything you want Mallory to be. Come see me, Edmund. Come to me soon.”

  He turned and retraced his steps until he was back in the pitch dark of the tunnel. He slowed until he came to the wall then turned left and kept going.

  Jack was the first person Edmund saw in the sub-basement. “Everything all right?” By the look on Jack’s face, Edmund must look the opposite of all right.

  “My torch went out and I couldn’t find it.” He showed his empty hands.

  Of course he’d been in an Empani nest, but best not to talk about it here. In fact, it was probably best to say nothing at all for now.

  The Yin and the Yang of It

  Mal had been back in Red City six months, and Nin had been sick every day. Kronos watched tentatively as Mal tried to get Nin from the bathroom to her sofa for the third time in the last half hour. Ninny sickly pale and too weak to walk.

  Mal bent down and lifted Nin over her shoulder.

  “Mal, no. You can’t.”

  “Forget it, Ninny.” No heavy lifting during gestation? No problem. Nin weighed nothing. Not a good sign.

  She put Nin down on the sofa, and Kronos jumped up to lick her face.

  “Kronie, baby, don’t worry. I’ll be …”

  She leaned over and retched. Beastie had the good manners to stay in the chair, his pink tongue sticking out. His eyes darted from Mal to Nin to Mal, round with worry.

  “I’m calling Harriet this minute.”

  “No need. It’s only morning sickness.” Her whole body spasmed then relaxed, having nothing left in it to throw up. Then she spasmed again.

  “Morning sickness that lasts for seven and a half months?” It was frustrating not being able to help, and embarrassing to have never had one day of sickness, morning, noon, or night. “You’re dehydrated.”

  Nin smiled weakly. “Help me to the bathroom. Cold water on my face and I’ll feel better. Don’t call Harriet, Mal. It’s your day, and she’s so happy preparing the spread.”

  “Oh, Ninny.”

  Nin was a month further along than Mal, but she hardly looked pregnant at all. She was thinner, not fatter, than when she started, with a woefully unimpressive bump on her belly. Her gorgeous olive skin was sickly yellow. She’d chopped off her hair after vomiting all over it one too many times. It stuck out all over, and not in a good way.

  Every gestation was different. Everybody knew that. But this couldn’t be in the range of normal.

  “Come on, Mal. Let’s go see poor Kairo.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes, I am. She’s going crazy.”

  Poor Kairo. Mal never dreamed she’d pity Kairo. Claire had just gone out to Zhongguó, and Roh was in residence from Versailles. Kairo, the most desirable chalice to come along in the history of chalices, had not received one bid.

  At Kairo’s apartment, Roh opened the door.

  “Great gods!” Mal said.

  What was it with all this cutting of hair? Roh's braids were gone. She’d practically shaved her head, it was cropped so close. Who knew her bone structure was so perfect?

  “Oh, Roh, that’s marvelous.” It was sure going to feel good when she was in the water.

  “A bid came in.” By her expression, Roh might have said there are slugs in the salad.

  “You don’t have to spare my feelings.” Kairo called out from inside. “Come in, hubs!”

  Her black hair hung straight and thick to her waist. Her skin was perfect as usual. Her black eyes sparkled, and her lips were red and full. She wore a long white plain shift and tons of gold jewelry. She held Delilah in one hand and a cut crystal flute of champagne in the other. So lovely. A woman that a god would covet. “I’m taking it.”

  “Is it bad?” Mal was afraid to hear the answer. Kairo should have gone to Garrick. Everybody would have been happier. Including Garrick.

  “It’s what it is,” Kairo said. “It’s Hibernia.”

  “But it’s only the first round,” Mal said. “Someone will surely outbid them.”

  “Bugger ‘em all.” How much champagne had she gone through? “I’ve accepted Hibernia’s first bid.”

  “Oh.” Nin sat down on the sofa. “But King Harold is ancient.”

  Kairo’s pride would not be quashed. How many kings and princes were kicking themselves even now for not daring? That’s why she took the first bid, to spite them all. It was brave. Admirable, really.

  She held out her empty glass to Roh, who had the champagne bottle. “His heirs died of flu. Fortunately – I suppose – the epidemic took his queen too. He’s free and he’s still alive, and he wants to start over.”

  “It’s because you’re too amazing.” Roh poured. “Everyone believes they can’t afford you, so they don’t try.”

  “I’m going to Hibernia, and that’s an end of it. I’d offer you all champagne, but I’m the only one here in a condition to drink it. Which I intend to change.”

  Nin made another retching sound and ran to the bathroom with Kronos at her feet. Beastie ran after them, and Kairo put Delilah down to go with the other dogs. “Doesn’t the princess have a ceremony to go to?”

  Red City had ridiculed Garrick’s story and publicized the findings of the Team of Inquiry as to Mal’s true origins, but now the hubbies called Mal the princess as a joke.

  Roh said, “I know he
’s powerful and rich, and I’m glad one of us got the Garrick contract. But I don’t like him.”

  “It sounded different during the Rites,” Kairo said.

  “He pinched me.” Roh shook her head in disgust. “I thought I was so lucky to get him for my partner, but he was disrespectful and rude the whole time. And you know something? I don’t think he’s all that sad about his sister. He just doesn’t want to give that dagger back.”

  “I just don’t think that’s right, Roh,” Mal said. “He misses her terribly.”

  True, Garrick was arrogant and sometimes oblivious to other people, but it wasn’t his fault that he’d been deferred to all his life. He seemed to genuinely care about Lady Bron. The reality of Garrick always turned out different than what Mal expected.

  She wished he’d come a day early for the soul ceremony. It would have been nice to get used to him again before being completely alone together.

  That’s how it was done, but it seemed so creepy. During the Rites or impregnation or when they played with visitors, they were never alone. You always knew someone might walk by at any time, even join in the fun. The idea of being locked in a room alone during sex was a bit scary – and exciting.

  Nin returned from the bathroom. She looked worse. “Thank Asherah Sister Jordana refused to let that Samaeli priest in.”

  The letter Father Jesse had passed along when Mal left Garrick had contained an offer to confirm the soul after Mal’s ceremony. Sister Jordana had sent a cold refusal, making it clear that Red City would grant him no entry documents.

  “I swear those priests of Samael are plotting total world domination,” said Kairo.

  “They surely don’t like chalices.” Roh emptied the last of the champagne into Kairo’s glass.

  Mal remembered something from that last dinner in Garrick. “Father Jesse has influence in Garrick. They’ve dropped soul confirmation as a requirement for civil service if the applicant is Samaeli.”

  “Great gods.” Kairo frowned. “How could Garrick do such a thing without bringing it before the Concords?”