Wheel of the Infinite

by Martha Wells

  The noble staggered to his feet, staring at her. He didn't try to stop her as she walked past him and climbed the steps to the portico.

  She went through the ivory-framed archway into the entrance hall, quiet now and dim, with the clouds cutting off the morning sun and the lamps not lit. It was fragrant with the scents of the fine inlaid woods in walls and floor and the semiprecious stones set into the carving gleamed in the shadows. It was too quiet, even for this time of day.

  As Maskelle passed the antechambers and rooms reserved for waiting supplicants and petitioners, all empty, she knew that they had been cleared because of her presence. They should have been full of officials on real business and people who meant to try to seek some personal favor or matter of justice from the Imperial secretaries, who also had their audience rooms in these halls. To clear this place quickly, without resorting to threats of violence which would only cause full-blown riot among the regional governors and high court advocates who were sure to be here, was an impossibility. Only one man could have emptied the place with a simple request. Maskelle's jaw ached from unconsciously grinding her teeth.

  She came to a huge room, the ceiling going up the full four stories to the peak of the roof, with the center portion open to the gradually lightening sky and covered only by the giant skeleton of the heavy support beams. The floor was paved with fine white stone, with two steps down to a shallow pool in the center, directly under the open roof. The floor under the pool was mosaiced to resemble a natural pond, blue water laced with lotus and other languid flowering water plants. The illusion of an outdoor pond was increased by the presence of a dozen or so large graceful herons, standing or stalking elegantly about the shallow pool.

  The wide doors just past it led into a large dark room, this one with the empty feel of a place normally bustling with people. It had a floor of wood inlaid with ivory and the ceiling arched high overhead, the sections between the carved beams painted a deep indigo and starred with gems that glittered like ice in the light from a few gold candlestands. At the far end, on a dais raised two steps off the floor, was a heavy gold bench.

  Seated on the steps in front of the Throne, his staff across his knees, was the Celestial One.

  Maskelle stopped a few paces from him, folded her arms, and said, "Why did you clear the halls? Did you think I'd kill everyone in my path?"

  "I wanted no one to take the opportunity to interfere with you. Any further, that is," he said, sounding tired. "Your friend is well. I made certain of that."

  The anger went out of her suddenly. She was tired, too, and her ears hurt. And it came to her that it had cost the Celestial One something to cross the city by boat to be here before her, to reach the Great House from the Celestial Home's canal dock and clear the halls before she reached it. She crossed the short distance between them and sat down beside him on the steps. "Well."

  "I'm too old for these plots," he grumbled. "That was always your duty."

  "Thank you. I think."

  "I meant to deal with the plots, of course." He gestured in irritation. "Raith insists this was his own idea. Perhaps he even believes it. The boy is just as stubborn as you."

  The Celestial One was one of the few people in the Empire who could use the Celestial Emperor's given name and talk about him as if he was an errant acolyte while seated three feet from the Throne. She asked, "It wasn't Marada?"

  He frowned at her as though the question sounded mad. "Who?"

  "A Court Lady visiting from Garekind. I saw you speak to her at the Marai, the day we arrived."

  "Oh, her. I can't tell them apart anymore. She had requested an audience with me to gawk, the usual reason these foreign visitors do." He glanced at her sharply. "Why do you think she caused this?"

  Maskelle shook her head. "She was the only stranger close enough to Veran to...do whatever was done to him." There was so much she didn't know yet. She needed to find out if Rian had managed to get into the guesthouse, if he had found anything. "She's a favorite of Raith's."

  "That will make matters difficult." The Celestial One rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is there any proof or only suspicions?"

  "Just suspicions." That is the thing I don't understand, she thought. Someone with dark power did this, that's obvious enough, but how did he learn so much about the Rite? Even with access to the Koshan libraries in Kushor-At, theoretical knowledge wasn't enough. It would take practical experience with building and shaping the sand patterns of the wheel, and weaving it in and out of the Infinite to make that new section, and make it so quickly.

  That knowledge might have come voluntarily from poor dead Veran, or maybe even the Voice Igarin, but...But I doubt it, Maskelle thought. Rian had found out enough about both men to support her gut instinct. As Igarin had grown older he had grown closer to the Infinite, as most Voices did. He had hardly left the Marai at all in the past few years. Veran had been well occupied with his studies and his instruction to younger Koshans; Lady Marada had been the only odd intrusion into his life. And the Temple Master and some of the Voices had examined the books and notes in Veran's quarters, and confirmed that there was no trace there of the unknown symbols. Something used Veran, that has to be it. Something invaded his mind and used him like a tool, and Marada killed him to keep him from telling us.

  "And what about the Rite?" The Celestial One sounded like any querulous old man in the market, complaining about taxes and the price of rice. "Who is working on that while we chase each other across the city?"

  "Vigar and the other Voices—"

  "Balls," the Celestial One said distinctly. Maskelle, though more used to his eccentricities than others, almost fell off the step. "I wanted your opinion. I had Vigar's already."

  "I don't know what my opinion is. It feels wrong to remove the...obstruction, but we can't leave it in. The Equinox is tomorrow, and if they all work on it together and no one trods on someone's sleeve and falls on the Wheel, they'll barely finish in time as it is." She rubbed her face. "I think the Adversary finally spoke to me again in the Illsat Sidar but what he showed me has nothing to do with the Rite." She wasn't going to tell him about seeing Sirot. "I think I've done something to myself, so I can't understand what he says even when he does speak to me. My first decent vision in seven years and I can't understand it."

  He watched her worriedly. "That isn't possible."

  "Just because something's never happened before doesn't mean it's not possible. It could be happening right now and we wouldn't know—" She stopped in confusion. She had heard a whisper just then, not the chiding voices of the Ancestors, but the strong tone of the Adversary. It lingered, like the taste of copper in her mouth. A warning. Something is happening now, but we don't know what or where. She swore under her breath. These warnings that made no sense were going to drive her mad.

  The Celestial One was shaking his head. "Calm yourself. Meditation—"

  "I'll try it," she said, standing up suddenly. She wanted to leave, now. Whatever the answer was, she was more likely to find it in the Illsat Sidar or the Marai than here. "Tell me where Rian is and we'll go."

  The Celestial One's mouth twisted. "There is something more. Raith wants you to spend the night here. As a gesture of fealty."

  "What? He must be mad!" She realized she had shouted the words. Anticipating that must have been another reason the Celestial One had cleared the place. "I should be with the Rite tonight, with Vigar and the others."

  The Celestial One snapped, "I am as aware of that as you, I assure you."

  "Then what's the point of this?"

  "He believes this will demonstrate your reformed character." The Celestial One's expression as he said the words suggested that there was an extremely foul odor associated with them. "If the boy were a fool, this would be easier to stomach."

  "He gives me an opportunity to start trouble and heartily wishes that I'll take it."

  "That too."

  "Doesn't he understand we don't have time for all this posing? I should at least
be there when the Voices complete the Rite, just in case... You did tell him about the Rite, didn't you?" she demanded.

  "Yes. But he doesn't understand. None of them do. They have little awareness of the Rite. It has been with them their whole lives, their parents' lives, back to the time of the Ancestors, as constant as the sun or the air, and they think it will continue as always, with or without our interference."

  Maskelle turned away, rubbing her aching temples. "I hope they're right."

  ***

  As soon as Rian judged it had been long enough for the guards to relax their initial vigilance, he tested his theory about the roof.

  It was relatively easy to reach the very edge from the balcony by standing on the balustrade and leaning out from the supporting post. Fortunately, the guards in the garden below did not look up, and the view of the others was blocked by a large palm. The tiles were slick enough to make it chancy as it was; if the rain started they would be as slippery as looking-glass. He managed to drag himself up onto the roof after a few breathless moments, then saw that this part of the building was overlooked by an adjoining structure, with jutting cupolas and a long gallery just under the eave of its peaked roof. Before he could move more than a few yards toward it, someone saw him and the alarm was raised.

  Cursing, Rian retreated, dropping back down to the balcony. The guards at the outer door hadn't noted his absence, but the thump when he landed caught their attention. They rushed into the room, drawing bori clubs, only to stop when they saw him standing on the balcony, arms folded, glaring at them. After staring suspiciously at him, they finally went back to their post.

  Rian paced impatiently, kicking one of the brocaded cushions. The effort of the climb had accomplished nothing except to open the scabbed-over cut on his forearm which itched and bled sluggishly. He knew it must already be too late to stop Maskelle from coming to the Palace, even if he managed to escape right now.

  Suddenly a crack of lightning, close enough to make Rian flinch, reverberated through the room. He stepped to the balcony again while the echoes of thunder died, squinting up at the sky. It looked no darker than it usually did. That was strange. While it rained with dreary regularity in the lowlands, it didn't often storm except at the beginning of the rainy season. The two guards at the door were commenting on it in soft voices, as surprised as Rian was.

  Wait, he thought. That couldn’t be...Well, it could. He had warned Karuda himself.

  There was no more lightning and Rian went back to pacing, telling himself she could take care of herself and it didn't matter that he couldn't get out to help her. Still, he had come up with several increasingly unlikely escape plans when he heard her voice outside in the stairwell.

  He was at the door in a heartbeat, though the two guards hurriedly moved to bar his way. He started to shove past them, bori clubs or not, then saw Maskelle coming up the steps, with a stone-faced Lord Karuda trailing her. A moment later a young priest appeared carrying the Celestial One up the steps after them.

  Karuda was trying to say something to Maskelle. She ignored him, using distracted pokes from her staff to nudge the startled guards out of the way as if they were sheep that had strayed into the road. She shoved her way into the room and said, "Are you all right?"

  "Yes." Rian reminded himself he couldn't grab her and shake her and demand to know what in hell she thought she was doing here.

  "What did they do, throw you into the canal?" she persisted, looking him over worriedly.

  Rian had almost forgotten about the expedition to Marada's house. It seemed an age ago. With Karuda standing there watching both of them, he said tightly, "Can we discuss that later?"

  Maskelle turned to Karuda, who had followed her into the room. "Go away. Take the guards with you. Now."

  Rian had time to notice that Karuda looked the worse for wear himself, that he had removed his archer's wristbrace and had a new red burn on his hand in roughly the same shape. Stubbornly, Karuda said, "I have been ordered—"

  He was interrupted by the entrance of the Celestial One, who had been set down on the landing by his attendant priest. The old man hobbled into the room, shaking his head. He was followed closely by Hirane, the priestess who had been with the Emperor in the garden, and two more priest-attendants. The Celestial One looked at Karuda sourly. "I know your orders, young one. Go to Mirak and tell him his plot is successful if he intended it to greatly inconvenience the Voices of the Ancestors and all the upper ranks of the Marai, and indeed, their servants and the lower ranks as well."

  Karuda looked at the Celestial One as if he wanted to argue, then his lips set in a grim line and he turned to leave. Rian said, "My sword."

  Karuda didn't stop, but a moment later one of the guards came back from the landing with Rian's siri and all three of his knives. He handed them over quickly and withdrew.

  Rian buckled the sheathed siri to his belt again and hastily put his knives away. "Is this over now?"

  Maskelle shook her head, her face drawn and exhausted. "No, not yet."

  Rian froze in the act of tucking the last knife into his boot, looking up at her. "What?"

  "I have to stay here the night, apparently as some half-witted show of faith."

  Half-witted is right, Rian thought. "What about the Rite?"

  The Celestial One muttered, "That is what I would like to know."

  "I did my best," the priestess Hirane snapped. "I only caught word of this because one of my sixth-level priests had a dawn mediation with the Chancellor this morning."

  "This didn't go through the Imperial Secretaries?" Maskelle asked, frowning.

  "It appears to have been a private act on the part of the Throne," Hirane replied, her pinched expression betraying what she thought of that. "I couldn't discover who was behind it. Mirak was in favor of it, certainly, but I couldn't tell if he instigated it or not." She looked at Maskelle, and for the first time her face softened a little. "It may be that the Throne thought of this for himself."

  Maskelle muttered something under her breath and turned away, going out to the balcony.

  The Celestial One looked after her for a moment, then shook his head. "We must get back to the Marai. Today will be critical." He gestured to his attendants and Hirane to follow him.

  Rian was thinking hard. Whether this plot was Mirak's or Marada's doing was irrelevant at the moment; whoever it was was sure to try again. And nobody's using me as bait again, either.

  Rian checked the landing and saw that the guards were gone. He slipped out onto the stairs and moving quietly, went down to the floor below. The room there was empty as well, but he heard voices from the door that led out into the garden and stepped softly across to it.

  Karuda was informing the guards in the garden of current developments. Rian heard the noble's footsteps crunch away on the gravel path, then one of the remaining guards muttered, "You should have seen it. She called lightning out of the sky."

  Rian listened to a biased account of Maskelle's arrival at the Celestial Home, wondering how much of it was true. It explains the lightning, at least, he thought. When it seemed there would be nothing else worth hearing, Rian went quietly back up the steps and into the main room. Maskelle was still standing out on the balcony, leaning on the balustrade. There was much he needed to tell her, but he couldn't think where to start.

  When she heard him behind her, she stirred restlessly, and without looking back at him, said, "Now you've seen for yourself."

  He didn't have time to figure that one out. "They think the High Lord sent me to you, that you're in some kind of plot with him. One of them does, anyway," he added, remembering the young Emperor's reluctance to accept the suggestion.

  This at least made Maskelle glance back at him, baffled. "I'm in some kind of plot with who?"

  "The High Lord of the Sintane."

  She snorted and turned back to the view. "Oh, as if that's likely."

  Rian made himself take a deep breath. She was safe, for the moment, anyway; there
was no point in letting their enemies' tactics get to him. He thought he knew what was bothering her and decided they might as well get it out in the open. He said, "The Emperor is your son, isn't he?"

  She didn't turn around. "Yes. Not by law. I gave him up to his father's family. He had a better chance at the succession that way. And I didn't really want a child." She gestured around at the suite, at her temporary captivity. "So this is what I get for it."

  Rian said, "I've got three."

  "Three what?"

  "Three children. In Riverwait."

  Slowly she turned around, leaned back against the balustrade, and folded her arms. Frowning thoughtfully, she asked, "How many wives?"

  "None. Kjardin aren't allowed to make bonding contracts. But we're popular with women who want children. And then I was the Lady Holder's favorite, so she—"

  Maskelle held up a hand. "I think I have the idea." Her tone was somewhat cool, but at least she had lost that air of deadly introspection.

  "There's something else—"

  "I don't know if I can take anything else just now."

  "I found something at Marada's house. A box with something like an ivory ball in it that glowed when I touched it. I took it so you could look at it. There were other things too, subtle things. The house didn't look...right. If you want to search it again, we don't have much time. They know somebody was there, but they don't know who." He added ruefully, "Or at least I thought they didn't, until this happened."

  "An ivory ball that glowed? That doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard of before." She shook her head, troubled. "She's brought foreign magic into the city and it will be interesting, to say the least, to hear how she'll justify it. Where is the box now?"