“And I take it that you have no objections?”
Ehrin hesitated, wondering how to word his reply. Before he could speak, however, Kahran interrupted. “Just what is it that you fear, Elder?”
Cannak manufactured a wide-eyed expression of surprise. “Fear? What do you mean by fear?”
“What is it that the Church doesn’t want its citizens to know about the expedition? Surely, if all is God’s creation, then all should be known?”
Cannak replied quickly, “All is God’s creation, but God in his wisdom decreed that the Church should act as arbiters in the welfare of the people of Agstarn. That is why, for thousands of years, the city has prospered peacefully, while the people of the lands beyond the mountains have lived lives little better than wild beasts.”
Ehrin said, “And it is the influence of these so-called wild beasts that the Church wishes to keep from the eyes and ears of the gentlefolk of Agstarn?”
Cannak regarded him evenly. Ehrin wondered if the Elder would recall the remark for future censure. “The Church rules with strict principles,” Cannak said, “which have suited us well down the centuries. There are those subversives among our society who would stir ferment at the slightest excuse in an effort to destabilise the status quo.”
“But I still don’t understand,” Ehrin pressed, despite a warning glance form Sereth, “how knowledge of the lives of so-called savages might bring about such destabilisation.”
Kahran eased himself upright beside his bulky camera, massaging the small of his back. He looked at Cannak and said, “Or is it more than wild beasts that the Church fears, eh, Elder?”
To his credit, Cannak took the jibe evenly. “And quite what do you mean by that?” he enquired.
Ehrin looked at the old man, aware of a sudden tension in the control room. Kahran hesitated, then said, “I can only assume, taking everything into account, that the only thing the Church fears from the expedition is that we might stumble upon something that could contradict the teachings of the Church, contravene holy text, and sow the seed of doubt in the minds of the people of Agstarn.”
Sereth, seated next to the Elder, raised a quick hand to her throat and slid a glance towards Cannak.
The Elder smiled. “I am resolute enough in my faith to know that no such findings could contradict the word of God as handed down in the Book of Books.”
“We’re going around in circles,” Ehrin laughed. “If the Church has nothing to fear, then why the heavy-handed proscriptions?”
Kahran continued, “Like I say, it is my opinion that the Church knows more than it feels safe to vouchsafe. Perhaps the very story of Creation might turn out to be, if we explore far and wide enough, a tissue of myth.”
Cannak could barely control his anger. “Such blasphemy has been dealt with harshly by the High Council.”
“Cannak, I am an old man, near the end of my life. Do you really think that I fear anything at this stage, especially threats from the High Council?”
Cannak smiled. “I should have known that the years would have done nothing to temper your cynicism.”
Kahran waved in disgust. To Ehrin he said, “The Church fears, most of all, not so much the possibility that its tenets will be proven to be lies, but the resulting loss of power if the truth were to be disseminated.”
Ehrin turned to Cannak. The Elder replied evenly, “And the truth, of which you speak so confidently, is what?”
“Why,” Sereth interrupted, flustered and attempting to pour balm on troubled waters by offering more tisane, “what truth could there be, other than God’s truth, that God created Agstarn and the mountains, and the platform on which all is based, which floats in the limitless sea of the Grey?”
Ehrin smiled at his fiancée, loving her all the more for her naivety.
Cannak said, inclining his head towards Sereth, “The first sensible words addressed to me so far on this trip. The Church would fear losing power only in so far that it would fear the chaos that would ensue, and fear too the wrath of God for allowing such chaos.”
Ehrin was torn between asking Kahran what might be the truth he spoke of so confidently, and saving Sereth’s feelings. Of the feelings of Cannak, and the possible consequences once they returned to Agstarn, he gave little thought.
“Upon which note,” Cannak concluded, “I will wish you good evening. And I hope that the morning will bring good sense and temperate sentiments to all aboard this ship.”
He swept from the control room and pulled the communicating door shut behind him. Into the resulting silence, Sereth said, “I honestly don’t know why you baited the old stickler. Surely silence would have been a virtue, as well as common sense. Who knows what he will tell the Prelate when we return!”
“Sereth, we can’t let the sanctimonious fool dictate to us how we should conduct ourselves on this mission.”
Kahran turned to Sereth and said harshly, “Sereth, fifteen years ago I suffered greatly thanks to that pious bastard. Ehrin’s father suffered even more. You will be lucky not to see murder committed before journey’s end.”
Giving a sharp gasp, as much at Kahran’s tone as the content of his promise, Sereth rose and hurried from the room.
Kahran watched her go, shaking his head. “Ehrin, I’m sorry.”
Ehrin ignored the apology and said, “What happened, Kahran? Why did my father suffer? And the truth you speak of?”
Kahran stared with rheumy eyes at the younger man, but finally shook his head. He pointed across the room at the control pedestal, and at first Ehrin thought he was trying to divert his attention. Then Kahran said, “The freighter. They’re sending a message. We’d better attend to it.”
The system of mirrors, which terminated in a flashing disc on the control panel, was relaying a message from the larger ship. Ehrin stepped across to the pedestal and gave his attention to the series of flashes.
The message was simple: “Building observed below. Should we land and investigate?”
Ehrin peered through the starboard window, and seeing nothing crossed the gondola and stared through the port panels. There, far below, dim in the gathering twilight, was the foreshortened shape of what must have been a vast edifice standing isolated on the snow-covered plain.
Ehrin glanced at Kahran. “Shall we incur the wrath of Cannak even more and take the ship down?”
Kahran grinned. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
Ehrin opened the relay to the following ship and signalled: “Affirmative. Follow us down.”
For the next ten minutes, Ehrin worked the controls so that theExpeditor lost altitude and circled around the summit of the building below. As they dropped, the edifice came into clearer view.
Ehrin looked at Kahran, his own sense of awe reflected in the eyes of the old man.
The building was like nothing he had ever seen before, either in terms of architectural design, size or the stuff from which it was manufactured. It was constructed in a series of great steps, so that it towered over the darkling plain to a height of perhaps a thousand yards, and in the dying light of the cloudrace it glimmered with a dull lustre as if fabricated from bronze.
Ehrin brought the skyship to ground twenty yards from the rearing flank of the building and cut the engines. He stared out in the ensuing silence, but even if he pressed his face to the glass of the window he was unable to make out the summit of the ziggurat.
There was a sudden commotion from the corridor. Sereth hurried from her cabin, followed by Velkor Cannak.
“What’s happened?” Sereth asked, coming to Ehrin’s side.
“Why have we landed?” the Elder wanted to know.
Ehrin pointed. Cannak stared through the window, the look of shock on his features perhaps the most animated display of emotion the Elder had shown so far.
“May the Lord preserve us from all that is most unholy,” Cannak intoned to himself.
* * * *
2
For the nextfifteen minutes, Ehrin prepared t
he party to leave the ship. He broke out the padded suits and four gas-lamps, while Kahran suggested they arm themselves.
Velkor Cannak watched the proceedings in silence, until he could stand no more. “Have you considered the wisdom of venturing out so hastily? The wisest course of action would be to wait until morning.”
“The building appears uninhabited,” Kahran responded. “There are no other dwellings apparent nearby. Why waste time until morning, eh, Ehrin?”
Ehrin stared across at the Elder. “The Church has no objections to a little exploration, I take it?”
Cannak bit his lip and ignored the jibe, turning instead and staring at the ziggurat through the window.
“You will join us, Elder?” Sereth asked.
“For the sake of an objective record of the journey, necessity dictates that I must,” said the Elder and struggled into a padded suit.
Five minutes later they were ready. Ehrin broke the seal of the hatch and stepped into the gathering darkness. A flensing wind pounced, surprising him with its combination of noise and ferocious cold.
The freighter had come to rest a hundred yards away across the permafrost, and even its vast bulk was dwarfed beside the stepped monolith of the ziggurat. Two engineers were making secure the gondola with guy ropes; Ehrin and Kahran did the same for their ship, firing a series of spikes into the tundra from which they affixed the hawsers that would keep the Expeditor steady in the raging wind of the plain.
Ehrin moved away from the skyship, then gestured to the others to follow him. The personnel of the freighter were issuing from its gondola in ones and twos, staring up at the edifice in wonder. Ehrin found Sereth, bundled in her padded suit, grasped her hand like an excited schoolchild and hurried her across the snow towards the ziggurat.
They walked the length of its flank, examining the sheer wall of the base block for any sign of a portal or entry. The bronze surface of the ziggurat appeared to be formed from sections, but joined without bolts or rivets. The fact that the joins were seamless, quite apart from the feat of engineering necessary to have constructed such a tower, suggested a level of technology far superior to that achieved in Agstarn.
For the first time, giving way to his initial excitement, Ehrin began to feel apprehensive.
They came to the corner of the base block and turned. Perhaps a hundred yards ahead he made out a shadow in the side of the building. As they approached, the shadow resolved itself into a long opening, giving access to the first floor of the ziggurat. Ehrin felt Sereth’s hand tighten in his.
They arrived at the opening. A groove ran the length of the threshold, to accommodate a great sliding door twelve feet high, which emerged slightly from the wall closest to Ehrin. In the face of the door was a window, perhaps the length of an arm above Ehrin’s head.
They walked towards the open entrance, the others close behind them, and peered inside. The gargantuan scale of the outer ziggurat was reproduced on the inside. Ehrin wondered what manner of giants were responsible for the manufacture of such a place.
Beside him Sereth gasped.
Strips of illumination had activated as they approached the threshold, revealing a long chamber of sloping brass-coloured walls, of the same metallic substance as the outer walls. The difference here was that scored across the walls were lines of what appeared to be text, but in an alphabet unknown to Ehrin. Sereth let go of his hand and slowly approached the sloping wall, staring in wonder and reaching out to trace the arcane hieroglyphs with her fingers.
The others, with Kahran in the lead, passed him and approached the far end of the chamber. He knew he was probably wrong, but it was hard not to think of this place as some kind of Church: there was the long aisle, and at the end what could be construed as an altar—a raised area at the back of which was an oval plate or portal. He smiled to himself at his lazy assumptions.
Beside the knot of engineers at the far end of the chamber, the tall, black-clad figure of Velkor Cannak stood as if in stupefaction, gazing about open-mouthed. He clutched the small, red-bound Book of Books to his chest and murmured a silent prayer.
Ehrin wanted to confront the Elder, to demand from him some explanation of how this building fitted into Church lore, which had the people of Agstarn as the enlightened, chosen ones of an omniscient and beneficent God. But something stopped him. He was loath to call it compassion for the Elder in his time of mental turmoil—he felt nothing but contempt for Cannak and his beliefs. Perhaps, though, it was some subconscious form of self-preservation: Cannak was dangerous, or at least he would be when they returned to Agstarn, and there was no more dangerous beast than a zealot whose beliefs were under threat.
Sereth returned to his side.
“Can you read them?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not a word. They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” She looked around her, taking in the vaulted ceiling high above. “What is this place? It’s vast. Everything is on such a massive scale, as if it were designed for...”
“For giants?”
She just stared at him. At last she said, “The Church teaches that we were created, alone in the grey, on a platform sufficient unto itself, and given a safe city surrounded by hostile climes. We were the chosen ones. The others, the tribes of the plains, were unenlightened, but would see the true path in time when the way of the Agstarnians was brought to them...” Tears appeared in her eyes. “That’s what father told us, when my sister and I were small, and sat upon his lap before the fire at night. I believed him.”
Ehrin took her hand and squeezed.
There was movement further along the chamber. Cannak had turned in a rush and swept towards them. Ehrin at first feared that the Elder was about to attack him, verbally if not physically—for the look upon the old man’s face was as cold as the wastes without—but to his relief Cannak hurried past and headed for the exit.
Sereth looked into his eyes. “Why did you bait him back in the ship, Ehrin? And why is Kahran so hostile?”
Ehrin stroked away the tears that spangled her fur. “I can’t believe in what the Church teaches, Sereth...” He hesitated, then said, “Years ago, Church Inquisitors tortured Kahran and my father for their beliefs, or lack of—and Cannak was responsible. Can you grant Kahran his rancour knowing that?”
Sereth turned away, staring about her with wide eyes.
Kahran was approaching them from the far end of the chamber. The old man had a spring in his step that Ehrin had not seen for years, and when he drew close he could see a matching vitality in his eyes. Kahran’s expression was one of triumph barely contained.
The old man exited the chamber, and Ehrin and Sereth followed. By now darkness had fallen and the night winds risen. As they stepped outside, Sereth leaned into him and said, “My father, Ehrin? What shall I tell my father when I return?”
Ehrin considered the harmless old cleric. “I can appreciate how you feel.” He shrugged. “Perhaps say nothing. Your father is old. The truth can often be cruel.”
They leaned into the wind and made their way along the frontage of the ziggurat, turning into an even fiercer wind as they rounded the corner and slogged across the snow towards the swaying sky-ship.
They were about to board the gondola when a deputation from the geologists approached. The lead man was Kyrik, who Ehrin had known socially for years. “Ehrin, we’ve discussed it among ourselves and the opinion is that we might as well make this our first test site and set up the bore. If we work through the night, we should have some results by midday tomorrow.”
Ehrin nodded. “Why not? We’re, what, only fifty miles from where we first planned to test drill, aren’t we?”
“Something like. It makes sense, in terms of economy and time, to take the opportunity to drill.”
Ehrin touched the geologist’s shoulder. “Good luck. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Sereth was already climbing aboard. Ehrin joined her. After the flesh-numbing cold of the plains, the atmosphere of the gondola welc
omed them with warmth and the scent of tisane.
The gondola was split into three sections. Forward was the control room, behind which was the corridor which gave on to the small sleeping berths. To the rear was a lounge approximately the size of the control room, but more luxuriously appointed: padded sofas formed a U-shape around occasional tables, upon one of which stood a steaming samovar.
Kahran was brewing tisane, and to Ehrin’s surprise he saw that Cannak was there too, clutching a cup in both hands and staring sightlessly through the enfolding window.
Kahran was saying, “So where does this leave your theology, Elder?” in a gloating tone.
Sereth rolled her eyes and retreated a little way into the corridor. She squeezed Ehrin’s hand. “I can’t take any more arguments. I’ll see you later, Ehrin.”
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