Wheel of the Infinite

by Martha Wells

  They couldn't be taking him to the Baran Dir. As far as Rian could tell it had something to do with hospitals and healing. The Marai was really the main temple in the city, though the Baran Dir seemed to occupy the most central location. It was hard to remember that Duvalpore was organized according to the invisible geography of the Infinite and not the real world.

  Near where the avenue turned into a causeway to cross the Baran Dir's moat, they turned west on another wide paved street, skirting the edge of a large plaza which was nearly empty at this early hour. There were walls on the far side, all carved with elephants engaged in game hunts in the forest, the theme brought partly to life by the heavy band of trees and foliage visible just over the top. They were heading for a gate guarded by stone lions and some of the misshapen spirit creatures. Rian concealed his increasing bafflement; Duvalpore was laid out in a strange fashion, but he didn't think a prison could be situated anywhere near here.

  Past the gate was a short paved avenue, this one lined with walls carved with festival scenes, shaded by palms and sycamore. Stone latticework showed they were actually on a causeway, crossing a stretch of water too large to be a canal. In Duvalpore moats were considered spiritual rather than defensive barriers; it was as if they were going into a temple's precincts.

  At the end of the causeway they went up a set of steps to a large garden square. At the top Rian finally saw what had to be their goal. The square was enclosed on three sides by a rambling and complex arrangement of buildings. Sprouting long verandas and roofed balconies, some were as much as three or four stories tall and were built around enormous old trees. The peaks of the red-tiled roofs were ornamented with huge carved beams that pointed upward like horns at the ends.

  As they led him across the garden, they passed plots all taken up with bright flowering shrubs, the vivid colors muted by the grey dawn light, and two large square pools, one deeply sunken into a stone basin with steps leading down into it. There were guards posted at intervals and a few workers fully occupied with cleaning a raised stone channel that watered one of the basins.

  They were not going to the broad shaded portico of the main building, but toward an archway in the garden wall that led to an interior court with palms and other trees hanging over the wall. As they neared it he could see the arch was framed with polished and gold-tipped elephant tusks. Rian thought, If it’s a prison, then the Koshans and the Kushorit really are crazy. He stopped at the base of the steps that led up to it, planting his feet when one of the guards pushed him. He said, "What is this place?"

  Lord Karuda glanced back at him, his expression closed, and didn't answer. The biggest guard gave Rian another hard shove. He shifted his weight to keep his balance and stood his ground. Rian supposed that sort of treatment was always effective on the peasants in the market, though he would have thought any one of the porters who carried burdens yoked on their backs could have beaten the man into the ground one-handed.

  Karuda pressed his lips together, annoyed. Rian had the feeling they didn't want to make a disturbance here. The aggressive guard uncertainly fingered his sword, contemplating further persuasion, and looked to Karuda for instruction. Finally the noble said, "This is the Celestial Home."

  Rian just stopped himself from calling Karuda a liar. He looked at the large complex of buildings again, reluctantly admitting to himself that it did look a lot like a Kushorit palace. All right, you only thought you were in trouble before. The guard gave him another hard shove. Rian kept his balance and ignored it. Karuda shook his head, for a moment looking almost as puzzled as Rian felt, then turned and went up the steps. Rian followed without persuasion, much to the guard's annoyance.

  Just past the archway the lush garden court was shaded by palms and ilex and a massive cypress whose roots had dislodged many of the paving stones around the square pool. The scent of flowers mingled with sandalwood incense. On the far side of the pool was a pavilion with a red tile roof supported by stone pillars. There were cushions on the polished wooden floor, and courtiers on the cushions, three young men, probably of the warrior-noble rank like Karuda, but in their silks and gold they looked as soft as doves. Standing to one side was a Koshan priestess, robed in blue and clutching a silver-wrapped staff. She was a small elderly woman with thin lips and a grimly determined expression.

  Another young man who didn't look soft at all was pacing on the far side of the pavilion. His long dark hair was pulled back from a narrow face with sharp, handsome features. He was dressed in a simple open jacket and trousers of watered green silk, but his armbands, anklets, and pectoral were heavy gold. He stopped abruptly and turned toward them as Rian was brought in. Rian saw the man's face was dark with anger.

  Karuda bowed, and though Rian wasn't practiced at interpreting the different levels of the Kushorit bow, he knew that one signaled an even greater degree of homage than the Celestial One normally received. I know who this is, he thought, feeling a shock that was like a punch to the pit of his stomach. The guard behind him kicked at his knee, and Rian knelt smoothly, back straight, sitting back on his heels. It was the proper etiquette for showing fealty to the High Lord of the Sintane, and even if they didn't know that, the gesture could hardly be interpreted as disrespect.

  He hadn't expected the Emperor to be so young. He had thought of him, if he had thought of him at all, as somebody like the Celestial One, if not quite so ruinously old. This man couldn't be much above twenty, if that. "That's him?" the Celestial Emperor said, his full lips curling with contempt.

  Uh oh, Rian thought. He hadn't accused Lady Marada of being a murderer to anybody except Maskelle; the Emperor couldn't have heard about that. I'm either dreaming or dead, he thought. Probably both. Even if had been obvious that he shared the bad opinion of Marada held by the servants attached to the Marai, that couldn't have found its way to the Emperor's ears in so short a time, unless his spies had near supernatural abilities.

  "It is, Your Majesty," Karuda said. His voice was colorless, only the tension it took to keep it so betraying any opinion. Rian didn't think Karuda was a possible ally, but he could tell the noble wasn't entirely happy with his role in all this. Whatever all this was.

  The Emperor said, "Stand up." Rian stood.

  The blow caught him across the cheek. Rian saw it coming, rocked back on his heels to absorb the force of it. He felt one of the Emperor's rings open a cut under his cheekbone. He doesn't hit nearly as hard as the Holder Lord used to.

  For just a moment the Emperor's expression was disconcerted, possibly at Rian's lack of reaction. He turned away, paced almost to the edge of the pavilion and stopped, fists knotted. He jerked his head at the courtiers and said, "Get out."

  All three immediately got to their feet, gracefully, though not wasting any time, and made their bows. When they had gone, there was quiet for a moment. In the trees birds sang, greeting the dawn, and the tension stretched.

  Then the Emperor turned his head and asked softly, "Where did Maskelle find you?"

  At least he’s not asking about Marada, Rian thought. At least not yet. He hesitated, but he couldn't think why the Emperor had the remotest interest in him. If he really cares so much who Maskelle travels with, why aren’t Rastim and the others here? He said, "On the Great Road, two days south of Duvalpore, lord." He had no idea what the Kushorit called the Emperor when addressing him directly and knew that making a mistake would be a serious tactical error, so he used the Sitanese honorific for the High Lord.

  Fortunately no one seemed to care. The Emperor faced him, staring. "Two days...Before she came to the city?"

  "Yes."

  "The implication is obvious," a new voice said. Another man stepped up into the pavilion from a hidden path through the foliage. Rian managed not to twitch at his sudden appearance. He was older, his dark hair greying and pulled back behind his head in an elaborate knotted braid, his face hard and calm. He wore enough gold to mark him as a noble, but there was no ostentatious display, and his air of power didn't requir
e the support. "Our information was correct. She has made foreign alliances."

  "What use would an alliance with the Sintane be?" the Emperor snapped.

  True, Rian thought, just managing to keep his face straight. The warring lords of the Sintane made terrible allies for each other, let alone for the Celestial Empire, which they regarded with suspicion and fear. They suspect Maskelle of making a foreign alliance? It was all part of her past, the mistaken vision, the throne and her second husband's heir. But they must have known she was here that first night, when the Celestial One came to the post house. If they suspected her of treason, then why wait until today to fetch Rian in? Surely the Celestial One's presence would not have been enough to stop men under the command of the Emperor himself.

  The Koshan priestess, standing forgotten on the other side of the pavilion, said suddenly, "The Voice of the Adversary has no need of alliances. Chancellor Mirak knows this."

  That explained part of it, anyway. Rian remembered the priestess Barime, at the Illsat Keo, had mentioned Mirak as an enemy of the Koshans at court. Mirak gazed at the old woman with amusement and said, "This priestess has divided loyalties."

  "So, now Hirane makes a foreign alliance? The Master of the Baran Dir and the Celestial One conspire against me?" The Emperor snorted derisively.

  At least he's not a brainless lordling, Rian thought. The Emperor seemed more than able to make up his own mind. Not that that was likely to help Rian's situation. Though he had to admit he still had no idea what his situation was.

  Mirak, wisely, didn't argue, and the priestess Hirane simply stood silently, though a grim smile played about her lips. The Emperor stepped up to Rian again, his face dark but thoughtful.

  Rian made himself relax, expecting another blow, but the Emperor only said, "You weren't sent by the Sitanese High Lord, were you?"

  "No, lord," Rian said, keeping his tone even but willing the younger man to know it was true.

  "Are you warming her bed?"

  Rian's eyes narrowed. He didn't answer.

  The Emperor studied him intently. "She draws men to her. Then she kills them. She's done it many times before. She did it to my father."

  He was trying to sound mocking, but was too obviously taut with anger to be saying these things for his own amusement. Saying I heard about your father and he was a power-hungry little shit of a lordling who should have been gelded and hung out for the birds to eat was hardly likely to improve the situation any, so again, Rian said nothing.

  After a long heartbeat of silence, the Emperor stepped back. He glanced almost angrily at Karuda, as if it was his fault Rian was here, then said, "Take him away."

  Karuda and his men led him down the stone-paved path through the heavy foliage. It was narrow, and with the trees shading it and the dim morning light, it was ideal for making an escape attempt. Except for the small fact that the Celestial Emperor was less than twenty paces away and the last thing Rian needed was to get himself and Maskelle accused of another attempt on the throne.

  The path led toward the high log wall of one of the buildings, to an archway that opened into a high-ceilinged entrance hall, the woven lattice panels over the openings to the upper level balconies letting in light and air. The walls and pillars were carved with scenes of priests and warriors and more of the strange multiheaded spirit creatures, the designs touched with gold and pearl inlay. Rian began to feel conscious of the state of his clothes, not improved by climbing palisades and the swim in the canal. Prison he had been prepared for; this sent prickles of unease up and down his spine.

  They went through more large, airy rooms, lit by bronze candlestands or elaborate lamps that hung from the heavy beams overhead. Rian saw two guards posted at the end of a hall, dressed for show in breastplates and crested helmets with half-masks, and a few sleepy servants scrubbing tile on one of the upper galleries. They passed a hall where the walls were paneled in huge sheets of ivory covered with delicately etched scenes of clashing armies. He had been to the High Lord's Hold at Belladira and thought it rich beyond imagination, but this place made it look like a pigkeeper's hut. The Markand Heir, so greedily pleased with the treasures that had come to him when the Holder Lord had died, would have writhed in envy.

  They went up a spiral stair of large stone blocks that had wide windows overlooking another garden court. The stairs led up to a landing with two guards posted outside the doorway. Rian tensed, knowing this must be their goal, but it was only a room, large and high-ceilinged, with a broad balcony looking down on the shaded garden court. Rian looked at Karuda, now truly baffled.

  The noble said, "You're a guest here, not a prisoner."

  "A guarded guest."

  "Yes. For now." Karuda didn't leave, but just stood there, watching him. Rian went to the balcony, saw that there were guards down in the court also, though it might be possible to go up the timbered wall and onto the roof. The room hung out over the court, so that would probably be easy. Rian turned back into the room. It was furnished like a Kushorit house with cushions, a few carved chests and a low table. There were doorways leading off into at least two other rooms, and the wall paintings and the carving along the doorposts and the lintels was of a high quality, inlaid with fine wood and stone.

  Karuda asked suddenly, "Will she come for you?"

  "That's the plan, is it?" The noble made no answer, and Rian knew he was right. He was being used as bait for Maskelle. The sanctimonious bastards. He was used to controlling his anger, had swallowed down rage through that entire impossible year at Markand, but this almost broke his control. He found himself smiling tightly, an expression which Karuda weathered but made the guard who had followed him into the room shift warily. Rian said, "You'll get more than you bargained for."

  "She's an old woman—"

  Rian laughed. Karuda stopped, and Rian could see the noble didn't believe his own words either. He repeated, "You'll get more than you bargained for."

  Karuda hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, then turned and walked out, the guard following him. The others remained at the door.

  Rian went to the balcony again and gripped the carved balustrade, letting out his breath. Marada and her possible plots, the Celestial One and the damage to the Rite, all suddenly seemed of little importance. We’re for it now, he thought grimly.

  ***

  Maskelle entered the Celestial Home through the Golden Door, the main entrance that lay across a short bridge from the Great Square of Kushor-An. She went down an avenue lined with mimosa, under stone arches that, like the Passage Markers on the outer approaches to the city, served as protective barriers. The cloud cover had set in and the morning light was diffuse and dimmer than it had been at dawn, though the early rain hadn't started yet. The walk across to Kushor-An had been a long one and given Maskelle time to think. That this was all part of some sort of trap was obvious.

  The Golden Door was just that, a great golden gate balanced so exactly that it would swing open or closed with a touch. It stood open now. There were guards, but they ignored her, some staring nervously, some making what they thought were unobtrusive warding gestures. Beyond the Door was the steps up to the broad portico of the Great House, with three levels of galleries above it going up to the huge red-tiled roof. Built of heavy timber from the upland forests and supported by round stone pillars, this was the place that ruled the Celestial Empire. It was so familiar and so strange. Like returning to a well-known place in a dream or vision.

  Speaking of visions... It was an obvious trap, but as to who was behind it... That is not so obvious, she thought. It was encouraging that she could still think. Anger had been a heady intoxicant and she had always enjoyed that sensation of being balanced on a blade's edge. Rage had always left her oddly clear-headed, but this time it was even more so; Rian's life might hang in the balance and she didn't intend to make a mistake. The awareness that if she wasn't careful she would deliver herself into her unknown enemy's hand helped as well, but it was less important. She was
rather looking forward to confronting an enemy just now. Any enemy.

  Arrayed on the portico were a group of Imperial guardsmen and a young warrior-noble she didn't recognize. Maskelle stopped on the paved path about twenty paces away, leaning on her staff, and counted guards. "Only ten?" she said, her voice sounding brittle and bitterly amused, even to her own ears. "That's an insult."

  The noble stepped down toward her. "Revered, we're to escort you only—" Maskelle stopped listening. She had expected contempt or impertinence at the very least from these young men who had been hardly more than children when she had left Duvalpore. The noble's air of determined resignation reminded her they weren't doing this of their own volition and saved all their lives.

  There was a direct line of power running under her feet from the Baran Dir to the Arkad Temple, and through it she could feel the strong reverberation of the Marai, and further off, the subtle echo of the Illsat Sidar. She drew on it and used it to widen her perception of her surroundings, right up to the clouds hanging high overhead heavy with water. Stimulated by the contact with the power running through the earth, the power of the sky inherent in the clouds leapt out. Drawing on the temples for the strength she channeled it down to impact harmlessly on the stone pavement equidistant between her and the guards.

  For an instant the world was raw light and sound. She gripped her staff and stayed on her feet, temporarily blind and deaf. The violence of the ringing in her ears made her teeth hurt. When her vision cleared she saw the guards were scattered, some sprawled on the ground from shock and terror, but all unhurt. Some had dropped their bori clubs and swords, and all were now dragging off their helmets. Heat burned into her palm from the silver in her staff, and she knew that all the metal within many yards was now hot to the touch. The air smelled raw and burnt. There was a dark steaming hole in the pavement where the power had struck. There, she thought, a little dazed herself. Are you pleased? Every dark spirit within miles will be drawn up to the city boundary, waiting for you to leave. She answered herself, Yes, I am pleased. I reminded them of what I am and why they shouldn't trifle with me with no harm caused to anyone but myself. Something wasn't quite right with that, but she would worry about it later.