The stairs that they had to climb were also in shadow. This wasn't much of a problem for Armiger, who could see in the dark, but Galas was going to have difficulty. "We must hurry," he said.
He could sense his mecha growing in the valley below. The Winds could probably perceive it by now too, and he had no doubt they would react violently to his decoys. An assault by the Winds on the valley could buy them valuable time.
"Look." Galas pointed above them. Lights burned in windows high on the mountainside, and another pinprick glow was waving back and forth slowly at the top of the stairs. "They've seen us," she said.
"Good." They climbed together for a few minutes, and her steps became more sure as the medicine he had given her took hold. She didn't speak, and it was just as well because he was brooding about what to do next. His plans had once been precise and confident, but his deterioration into humanity seemed to have clouded his reasoning. He should have abandoned Galas at the foot of the stairs, but he found he could not. She was a dangerous drag on him at this point; left to himself he could have run all the way to the top of the mountains by now, and launched himself into one of the pits that led to the desal highway. Deep underwater in the roots of the mountain, he would have been safe and could have propagated his mecha without fear of interruption.
If only Jordan Mason were here. The boy held the key to the command language of the Winds, and Armiger was sure he could extract it, though he might have to take Mason apart molecule by molecule to find it. Yet the boy was meandering through the valley below with no apparent destination. It was infuriating.
Maybe he could contact the boy through his mecha. He did retain a com link to all of it, after all, in much the same way that the Winds remained connected to all life on Ventus. He could reprogram the genes of his mecha from afar. Maybe he could give some a voice.
He directed his thoughts to the largest of the mechal cacti growing in the valley. It was a good twenty meters high now, and had slowly turned black. In his mind's eye it appeared as a coal-black jumble of saucer-shaped leaves joined together without stems. Its roots ran straight into bedrock and heat radiated off it as from an oven. Armiger hadn't anticipated that effect of its metabolism—it might well start a forest fire if he wasn't careful. That would certainly raise the ire of the Winds, which was good, but it might also threaten Mason.
This cactus was of a design older than Armiger himself. It was a product of 3340's imagination, not his. It had the potential to bud all manner of other mechal life forms off its round leaves, and he had never had time to explore the complete catalog of possibilities. He asked it now to provide him with a list of forms able to speak that it could grow rapidly.
Wait... it said in an eerily familiar voice.
Armiger stopped climbing.
"What's wrong?" asked Galas. She touched his arm. He realized he had been glaring down into the valley, his hands balled into fists.
"Nothing," he said. "Let's keep going."
I can produce any of these, said the mechal tree in 3340's voice.
Armiger gasped, but he did not stop climbing. The tree unrolled a series of images in his mind of mechal animals, some disturbingly human-shaped. Armiger barely paid attention—it was the touch of the tree's mind that held his attention. It had a certain signature to it—his own, of course, but also something more. Were he asked to describe it, the best he could have done would have been to say that the thing's mind smelled like 3340.
"Thank you," he told it. "Do nothing. Sleep now."
I cannot sleep now, it said.
Armiger swore.
"Tell me," said Galas between gasping breaths.
"I may have made a mistake," he said. "We have to hurry."
"I can go no faster," she said. "I'm ready to collapse."
"Then I'll carry you."
She made no protest this time as he gathered her up in his arms, and began bounding up the steps.
§
Jordan's first sighting of Axel was as the man half-fell out of the forest shouting, "They're right on my heels!" Axel was dressed in tough black clothing, and had a belt festooned with odd devices around his waist, very like the woman who was not Calandria May. The third woman, who had introduced herself as Marya Mounce, was wearing some kind of close-fitting camouflage that made it hard to see her from the neck down. She seemed keyed up, and kept looking around herself and flaring her nostrils.
A few of Jordan's animals straggled out of the woods after them. The rest were fighting a rear-guard action, but the basts had decimated them.
Axel clasped Jordan's forearm in an almost painful grip. "Good to see you, kid! You're looking great."
"Thanks." Jordan was bursting with questions, but there was no time for them now. He could sense some of the cat-beasts that had chased Armiger and the queen approaching through the woods. They were very stealthy animals, but to him they shone like beacons through the translucent tree trunks. Several hesitant humans with guns followed them.
"Let's get back to the ship," said Axel. Jordan shook his head.
"They're between us and it," he said. "And I think the swans have figured out that it's not one of theirs. I don't think they're going to let it leave."
"It's our only option," argued Axel. "We need to get out of here."
"I agree," he said. "And we will. That's why we have to go this way." He pointed.
"He may be right, Axel," said the woman who was not Calandria May. "I can hear a lot of traffic from the swans suddenly."
It was cold, and getting dark rapidly. The swans should be turning on their midnight sun soon, but until then the forest would be impassible to these people. "I'm going to make a little light," said Jordan. "You follow it and don't let it out of your sight. We have to move quickly if we're to keep ahead of the cats."
He started walking; Tamsin fell into stride beside him. As he raised his hands to create a ghost-light on the shoulders of his jacket, he heard Axel and the others rushing to catch up.
"Well, what are those cat-things, anyway?" asked Axel. "One of them knew my name. Damn near killed me."
"I'd never seen one until the other day. I think they're a new kind of animal that the swans brought," said Jordan. "They can talk, I know that much, and they seem to be leading the army that's following us."
"Army?"
Jordan glanced back, resisting the urge to laugh. "A lot's happening right now. How did you find us, anyway?"
"Looking for Calandria. We found her signal, followed it down. At least, I thought it was her signal..." He fell silent.
One of the cat things had broken away from the others and was trailing them very closely now. It was almost completely dark now, so Jordan had to rely on his Vision to see where they were going. Axel, who seemed to be aware of the cat too somehow, sauntered easily beside him.
Of course, Jordan should have remembered that Axel Chan could see in the dark as well as Calandria had.
The cat seemed to be keeping a discreet distance, so Jordan said, "Tell me all about it—where you've been, what you've done. Then I'll tell you what's happened to me."
Axel laughed. "Best offer I've had all day."
§
The White Wind crept through the forest, low to the ground, and listened as Axel told his tale. She remembered being Calandria May now—remembered Axel, his passions and follies, the lopsided grin and strong hands. She had rushed to embrace him the instant she saw him, and he had not recognized her.
She wept as she padded along, regretting everything. Her life had been so sweet, and she had never known.
The others were hanging back on her instructions. She could not disobey her new masters, but neither did she have to obey them mindlessly. She knew, if they did not, that Axel posed no threat to Ventus. Jordan, though... She was not so sure about him.
She wanted to turn and run, and run all night through the woods until she could sleep the sleep of exhaustion and forget. Instead, the White Wind held her pace next to the humans, and listened wi
th growing wonder to the tales of the Desert Voice, and of thalience, and of Earth.
§
Calloused hands reached down to help Galas up the last few steps. She could only nod her gratitude to the dark-robed men who stood under torchlight on the broad ledge that fronted the Titans' Gate monastery.
The moment she was safely on her feet, the whole crowd of thirty or so men knelt as one. "Your highness," said the abbot, a balding man with grey eyes whom she had not seen in years.
"I am not the queen," she said. "Not any more." The words still sounded strange to her.
They all looked up as one. "We know your palace was under siege," said the abbot. "We assumed it would be taken. So this means you are in exile now. I must tell you that you have always served the desals well and have honored the ancient traditions better than any monarch in recent memory. You have our loyalty now and forever. For that reason, we still consider you queen, if not of Iapysia, than at least of this mountain."
Galas found herself blushing. She looked down. "Thank you." She could think of nothing further to say.
"My queen, are you responsible for the unprecedented visit of all these Winds to our humble monastery?" The abbot gestured in the direction of the vagabond moons.
She shrugged. "I suppose I am, in a way."
"Is this stairway defensible?" asked Armiger.
The abbot eyed him appraisingly. "It has proved to be in the past," he said. "You are Queen Galas' escort?"
"This is the general Armiger," she said. "He is my protector, and yours now." She saw that Armiger had dismissed the strange silvery ovals that had hovered over his head the past few hours. Had she not known he was not breathing, she would have thought he looked perfectly normal.
Armiger walked over to the parapet. The monastery was just over halfway up the vertical eastern face of the north Gate. Invisible from the valley was a broad ledge, almost a plateau, that narrowed to nothingness a hundred meters north, but broadened to the south as it swept around the curve of the mountain face. The monastery buildings were built towards the north end, so that the very last towers hugged the cliff itself with sheer rock below them. The stairway arrived midway along the south edge of the plateau, where the monks had built a garden around the front gates of the monastery.
"What lies that way?" asked Armiger, pointing to the southerly curve of the narrow plateau.
"Habitations of the Winds," said the Abbot.
"Desal machines," added Galas. "There's bottomless pits, waterfalls spouting out of the cliffs... it's hard to describe."
"And the distance to the southern peak?"
"About three-quarters of a kilometer at this point," said the Abbot.
Armiger nodded. "Too narrow for a vagabond moon to fit."
"What are you thinking?" she asked him.
"I'm satisfied about the stairs down," he said. "But I somehow doubt that's where our threat will come from."
"Why do you say that?"
"Look." He pointed at the moons. As far as she could tell, they hadn't moved. They hung over the far end of the valley and the foothills, seemingly close enough to touch, but in reality kilometers away.
Armiger must have seen her uncomprehending expression. He said, "Count them."
She did so. There were eleven.
"An hour ago," said Armiger, "there were twelve."
§
A new sun came on, exactly at the zenith. It appeared first as a sliver of brightness, then bloomed over a few seconds into a square too bright to look at. In those few seconds, the sky underwent a complete transformation from twilight to day; every shade of blue flashed through the heavens as the stars went out everywhere except near the deep blue horizon. Way out there, clouds and the edges of the furthest vagabond moons lay in shadow; nearer in, they gleamed in pure sunlight.
Axel squinted up at the light. "Solar mirror," he said. "Big sucker."
Jordan nodded. He had seemed subdued ever since Axel and Marya had told him what they'd learned about thalience and Turcaret. Axel had seen him shake his head several times, scowling.
"So we're going to meet the infamous Armiger," Axel said. "I've been wanting to do that for almost a year. You say you spoke to him once? You still think he's not a resurrection seed?"
Jordan hesitated. "I don't think so," he said. "But I'm not sure."
"Don't say that," said Axel. "Say, 'Axel, he's not a resurrection seed, and I can prove it.' That would make me happy, if you could say that to me."
"He's up to something, and I'm not sure what," Jordan said. "I don't think that proves anything either way."
"You said he took the secret of commanding the Winds from you, but he hasn't used it. And you don't know why not."
Jordan shook his head. "He should have started using it right away. He could have taken over the world by now if he'd been able to."
"He has the technology, but not the keys," said Marya. "It's exactly like Turcaret. He can speak to them, but they're not listening."
"Oh, they're listening," said Jordan. "They hear what I say, and they talk back. That's not it."
She shook her head. "But thalience..."
Jordan barked a laugh. "Whatever thalience is, the swans have given up on it. They're bitter, and they're in the mood to clean up after neglecting their jobs for a long time. So they plan to wipe humanity off of Ventus."
Jordan's companion said, "You said this fellow Turcaret had to have a certain kind of... thing in him."
"DNA." Marya nodded vigorously. "Yes, that must be it. Armiger doesn't have the proper DNA."
"Not quite true," said Axel. "The fact is, he probably doesn't have DNA at all. ...So that's it."
Jordan nodded. "He has the broadcast power, but not the 'password'."
"That's what we came to find out," said Marya. "Let's get back to the ship."
"No!" Jordan ran several steps ahead. "We're nearly there!"
"Nearly where?" They had come to an almost vertical cliff—the end of a long sinuous drape of Titans' Gate stone. The cliff was seamless, and at least fifty meters high.
"There's a door into the Gates here," said Jordan.
There was a flash of lightning, and moments later a grumble of thunder from fairly nearby. Tamsin pointed up through the trees. "Here they come."
The Heaven hooks were descending on the valley. They were no less impressive in daylight than they had been at night; it was simply clearer now what they were. Three of the vagabond moons were edging over the valley; together they would fill the sky over it from one end to the other. Their very bottommost sections had petalled open, and now long black gantries and cables were unreeling. From a distance these looked delicate, but the gantries were thicker than the trees below them.
As Axel watched, lightning stuttered from the cables of the lead craft. A long line of explosions stitched across the valley floor.
"If we're going to get to the ship we have to leave now," said the Voice.
Jordan shook his head. "The swans are waiting if it takes off. They haven't moved against it because the Hooks are going to take care of it."
"How do you know that?"
"I used to rely on Mediation to relay what they were saying. I don't need to anymore. I can hear them myself now."
They all stopped walking and stared at Jordan. He put his hands on his hips and glared back.
"Are you gonna argue with me?" he said belligerently.
Surprised, Axel laughed.
"But, the ship!" wailed Marya.
"The ship is about to be eaten," said Jordan with a shrug. "We're going this way." He pointed to the cliff.
Marya glanced at Axel; he shrugged.
"Apparently we are," he said.
43
"What are they doing? I gave no orders for them to move!"
Lavin stood perilously near the open door of the vagabond moon. He needed this vantage point to watch the proceedings below. It was obvious from here that three of the other moons had broken formation and were moving, like p
onderous floating islands, to cover the valley.
Lavin's own moon had sailed south and swept around behind the Titan's Peaks. For a while as the moon rotated he had seen nothing but ocean, sunlit for a few kilometers then abruptly plunged in darkness. Then the Titans' Gates had appeared again, very close.
The moon had been moving with frightening speed. Although the wind didn't penetrate the doors, somehow, he could hear it roaring, and all across the floor of the moon the guy wires popped and groaned as the great craft strove to keep its shape. Almost continuous flashes of lightning lit its interior, and the smell of ozone was overpowering. Once or twice as they passed the lower peaks south of the Gates, brilliant bolts had shot down, apparently from right under Lavin's feet, shattering wind-sculpted pine trees on the tops of the mountains below.
A different Lavin would have found the experience thrilling, as many of his men obviously did. They were keyed up to an almost intolerable degree, waiting in their ranks for the order to move.
A bast sauntered over to Lavin and turned its amber eyes to where he pointed. "We move to obliterate a threat in the valley," it said. "It is not your concern."
"A goodly portion of my army is in that valley."
The bast shook its head. "They have been pulled back, except for a few squads that are nearing the stairways. Your suggestion to attack from this direction was heeded and acted upon. Your army is not threatened."
"Then you have no need for it anymore?"
The bast shrugged. "For the moment, no."
And if we succeed here, not at all. Lavin glanced past the bast. Far up the distant curve of the moon's floor, two men were discreetly clamping something to one of the guy wires that crisscrossed the interior of the moon. Four other squads were returning from doing the same thing at various levels up and down the slopes. The basts had been distracted by questions and deliberate mistakes these last few minutes; all was nearly in place.
Lavin nodded curtly to the creature. "Nonetheless you're forcing our hand. Moving on the valley looks a lot like moving against the Gates. They're going to expect an attack from above now."
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