Second Veil

by Wilson, David

  THE SECOND VEIL

  A Tale of the Scattered Earth

  By David Niall Wilson

  First Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

  Copyright 2011 by David Niall Wilson

  Cover Images by Craig Neesh & Aaron Rosenberg

  Design by David Dodd & Aaron Rosenberg

  LICENSE NOTES:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  About the Scattered Earth series:

  Three authors.

  Three worlds.

  Three storylines.

  One grand setting.

  Read each set, and then keep reading to see how they ultimately connect

  as the Scattered Earths come together again!

  AVAILABLE & UPCOMING TALES OF THE SCATTERED EARTH

  The Birth of the Dread Remora – by Aaron Rosenberg

  Crossed Paths – by Aaron Rosenberg

  The Second Veil – by David Niall Wilson

  Guilt in Innocence – Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Resistance Falls – by Steven Savile

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  Chapter One

  The main chamber of the meeting hall of The High Council of Urv was a stately edifice with towering columns and a decorated, vaulted ceiling. It was centered by a huge oval table of polished stone and ringed with ornate chairs covered in plush upholstery. It was, in fact, a statement, and as Euphrankes Holmynn entered, all he could do was shake his head.

  Seated around that table, watching his entrance in solemn silence, an array of gray-haired councilmen waited in frowning silence. Euphrankes had been in the chamber before, and he'd known, more or less, what to expect, but the sheer pomposity of it still made him cringe.

  The walls were hung with portraits of still more elders. They dated back to the beginning of The Council. When Euphrankes, as a boy, had asked what there had been before the earliest portrait, he'd been cuffed on the ear and told to keep his silence. He had since come to understand that he'd gotten his answer…they didn't know.

  The rule for all those summoned to The High Council Chamber was silence. There were words to be spoken, but though they called it a court, there were no deliberations to be made. There were lines on old parchment that spoke with the voice of the law, and policy never deviated. That is why, stepping into the center of the room, where a slightly raised circular stage stood facing the base end of The Council table, seemed like such a waste of time and a display of idiocy. Euphrankes already knew what they would say.

  It didn't matter. He'd made his request because it was his nature to make such requests. He'd stood his ground because he knew that he was not the only man on the planet who wished that things might change – that it was possible to prove the limitations and proclamations of law were not inviolate. It didn't even really matter that they would say no, because he knew that – in the end – there would come a time when it didn't matter what they thought, or what they said. If he died in the attempt, he would die knowing in his heart what was, and was not, the truth.

  The chamber was only dimly lit by a ring of flickering lanterns. The only bright spot was where he stood, a trick of lenses and mirrors, and he knew this was to make it difficult for him to meet their gaze or study their expressions, while making it simple for them to do the same to him. Euphrankes' father had helped in the most recent redesign of the chamber, and he still had the books of notes explaining the structure, construction, and purpose of each architectural tidbit.

  It was, in fact, the influence of his father, Edwin, that allowed Euphrankes to be granted any audience at all. He knew that he was a disappointment to The Council. His father had done great things at their bidding. His inventions and his innovations, as well as many of the technologies behind the existing infrastructure of the city, had made their lives easier. Euphrankes, rather than proving helpful, had done little in his life but cause them a long string of headaches for which the only cure had proven a semi-banishment to a private dome outside the city. He wondered grimly where they might send him next if he angered them sufficiently.

  A phlegmy cough broke the silence, and Euphrankes stood as calmly as he could, facing the length of the table. It stretched interminably into the distance, and at the far end, in a dim pool of illumination, High Councilor Cumby sat and gazed back at him. At least, Euphrankes assumed the High Councilor was looking at him. At such a distance he might have been asleep, or facing the opposite way entirely.

  "Good morning, Euphrankes," Cumby said. Despite the distance, the acoustics of the chamber amplified the old man's voice so that it seemed the two were standing side by side.

  Euphrankes bowed very slightly and kept his expression as devoid of emotion as possible. He didn't believe there was any chance of his request being approved, but he didn’t want to give them new reason for their denial before they'd even spoken it.

  "It is an honor, as always," Euphrankes said.

  "Is it indeed?" Cumby asked. "Well, we shall see. I would like to extend my condolences on the loss of your father. He was a great man. He will be sorely missed in the city, and in these chambers. I pray that his passing was a gentle one."

  "It was," Euphrankes said. He was surprised at how close his voice came to breaking as he spoke those words. His father had been a great man in the city, but the man Euphrankes remembered – the brilliant mind that had shown him the magic of metal and gears, steam and pressure, mathematics and theory – had been the rock in his life. His father had kept him busy and sane when he'd wanted to rail against The Council and their rules.

  "One of the last things he said to me," Euphrankes added, trying to be as politic as possible, "was that I should send his regards to this council. I've chosen to carry them personally, and hope that you will forgive the indulgence."

  A soft murmur ran about the table at his words. Euphrankes figured they were nodding and patting one another on the back. They'd always believed his father to be their tool – a man who would do as he was bid and give no argument. So unlike his son.

  In truth, for every project Edwin Holmynn had completed for The Council, he'd completed a dozen others in the streets, taking care of those in need, and studying ways and means to move beyond the stagnant, dying city he'd called home. When a small outlying branch of the veil-roads had become untenable, it was Edwin who, through judicious use of his influence and several daring trips by air, between veils, had salvaged the complex to which his son had been banished. It was as if he'd glanced into the future and prepared a safe haven against the inevitable.

  None of that mattered now. What mattered was that the city was dying, and these old fools didn't care. They would be perfectly content to sit back and watch, their laws fiercely clutched in liver-spotted, blue-veined hands, as the city shrank around them, becoming in the end a mass coffin. None of them had that many years of life left, and an equal number of them cared for the well-being of the inhabitants of Urv living beyond their immediate circle of acquaintance.

  "We welcome you," the High Councilor said at last. "We are informed that you have a request, and we are …eager …to hear what you have in mind. Your family has always served the needs of The C
ouncil, and of the city."

  Again, Euphrankes gave his small, half bow. Then he stood to his full six foot four inches and squared his shoulders. He was a big man with a slender, muscular frame tapering to powerful shoulders. His hair was long, and he wore it back over his shoulders in a braid, as his father had before him. He knew that they could hear him if he spoke softly, but he chose to project. He wanted to catch them sleeping and maybe, just maybe jostle them awake long enough to win their support.

  "As you know," he said, "the roads between the cities are becoming steadily more treacherous. Flights beyond the First Veil run at regular intervals now, carrying cargo and passengers. Still, they are serving a shrinking world."

  There were cleared throats and coughs around the room. Euphrankes held his temper in check, and continued.

  "It isn't just the cities. The outlying factories and agricultural collectives are failing. Power sources are limited, and the rituals do not always work to repair what has fallen to age or neglect. It is a troubling time."

  "Have you come," a voice piped up from his left, "to lecture us on the history of our world, young man?"

  Illana Mirkos, eldest of the women serving on The Council, was a shrill, overbearing woman who had never forgiven Euphrankes' father for turning down her offer of marriage. It would have elevated Euphrankes' family to a level where they might – one day – hold a seat on The Council, but Illana had been twenty years his father's senior, and she was insufferable. She was least likely of all the members of The Council to look favorably upon anything Euphrankes proposed.

  "No lady," he said, turning to acknowledge her, but unwilling to be cut off before he'd spoken his peace. "I am here talking about our future, and whether, in fact, there is to be such a future if we do not soon take action to ensure it. The prophets predict another ten years might bring a time when there is no ground travel between cities at all; how long can our cities exist without fuel, or food? Our present fleet of airships cannot bear the brunt of such a catastrophe."

  "And you have a solution?" High Councilor Cumby cut in. "I assume by your prattle that this is why you are here. You have some way to prevent the roads from crumbling, or to tie the cities one to the other?"

  Euphrankes paused. This was the critical moment. What he proposed was actually not intended to help with the roads. It would not, in fact, make moving supplies from one city to another simpler or cheaper. His vision was more far-reaching than that of The Council, and the moment to show that divergence was upon him.

  "I have developed a means," he said, ignoring the question and thus dodging the answer, "to travel beyond the Second Veil. The resources of this planet are finite. We lack the material or facilities to repair or rebuild what has fallen. We must look outward, not inward for a solution. We must look beyond the Second Veil, and I have created a ship that…"

  Several voices rang out at once. They ranged from high-pitched screeching to angry shouts. High Councilor Cumby glared across the expanse of the table to where Euphrankes stood, letting the tumult grow until the room reverberated with the cacophony, then slammed his hand down on a button embedded in the tabletop. A piercing shriek of sound emanated from amplifying tubes around the room. The vibration of the sound met in the center of the room and swirled, swallowing all the words and screams and protests completely. When Cumby released the button, the room was heavy with silence, and Euphrankes stood, his shoulders shaking with startled anger and outrage.

  "You dare?" Cumby said. The old man actually rose from his seat at council, a thing Euphrankes had never witnessed.

  "I…"

  Suddenly whatever it was that amplified Euphrankes' voice died, and though he continued to stutter into the void, only the High Councilor's voice could be heard.

  "You dare to come before this council and suggest that, not only are the laws and the prophecies to be ignored, but that the very safety of our planet should be violated? You dare to suggest," the old man paused and seemed to gasp for the breath he needed before plunging on, "that we cause the very type of damage we fear every waking moment of every day?"

  Euphrankes took a hesitant step backward, nearly toppling from the speaker's platform. He had been caught completely off guard by this attack. He'd known they would not condone his research, but this?

  "Your Honors," he said softly.

  No one heard him.

  "You will leave this chamber," Cumby roared, his voice gathering strength from some unknown and unsuspected source, "and you will not return. You will cease any research you have begun toward this blasphemy. You will bend your efforts to clearing the roads and repairing the veils, or by all that is holy, I will forget my respect for your father, and I will have you cast out."

  The silence, if possible, grew thicker at these words. It was one thing to be banished to an outer sphere, where he was cut off from all normal road traffic in and out of the city. It was quite another to be released from the veil into the outer atmosphere of their world. It was far too thin to sustain life, and it was a punishment not meted out in the forty-two years of Euphrankes' life. It was a sentence of death thinly cloaked in false charity.

  He turned. Without another word, features rigid and limbs so stiff he felt each step jolt through his frame as if he pounded his bare feet on concrete, he turned and walked away from The Council table. He stared straight ahead, and when he reached the air lock he stepped inside. Two guards stood beside the door to ensure he did not try to return to the chamber. Euphrankes heard the soft hiss of equalizing pressure. As the doors closed he heard the shriek of the High Councilor's silence reverberating through the room once more. He wondered briefly what they had to argue about, now that his humiliation was complete, but could spare it no concentration. The time for talking was behind him, and he knew what he had to do.

  "Sorry, father," he whispered.

  Then the outer portal opened, and he stepped into the stale, slightly thinner air of the street and turned toward a series of tall, imposing towers.

  The city was a series of low-slung, rectangular buildings stacked neatly, like a child's blocks, one atop the other. A quick glance gave the impression that the city was one big, continuous structure, but it was misleading. There were walls and boundaries within each building. Everything was built in layers, and each of those layers was – in one way or another – sealed off from all others.

  Gleaming metal conduits wound up and around the walls, climbed over the roof tops and joined at huge, hydraulically activated valves. The buildings were all closed loops of breathable air, filtered and re-constituted. Near the edge of the veil, generators hummed and hissed as they sucked sustenance from the planet beyond, just enough chemicals and gases and droplets of moisture to sustain the system and prevent them from choking on their own exhaust. It reminded Euphrankes of the machines sometimes used to keep medical patients alive and breathing when their bodies began to fail.

  As he walked, he felt the city closing in around him with claustrophobic, breath-stealing power. Ahead were the airship towers. Each served as a dock for one or two ships, magnetic plates holding the great vessels in position just above the First Veil. The locks – seams in the veil surrounded by special vacuum seals on either side – were located beneath each berth.

  The Vector hovered where he'd left her, and Euphrankes made for the lock leading up to his ship with a purpose. He'd never seen The Council so worked up, and was only glad there had been no time for Myril, the High Priest of The Temple, to get involved. There had been no one cast from the city in a very long time – but if there was one on The Council who would relish the opportunity to bring that age-old punishment back into the mainstream of the cities daily life – it was Myril.

  Euphrankes reached the bottom rung of the ladder leading up to his platform, and began to climb. As he made his way up, he glanced over at the one structure in the city of Urv taller than The Council chambers. The Temple of the Veils, while as sealed and impregnable as any other building in Urv, had a gleaming white
façade of stone and a massive airlock chamber that had once allowed an entire congregation of worshipers to enter at one time. The clang of those huge doors closing had rung like a great bell as they sealed off the faithful. They had remained closed for nearly a decade, but Euphrankes remembered that sound from his childhood, and he shuddered. It had always sounded to him like the doors of a great tomb closing.

  On the platform above, two attendants nodded in recognition. One, a tow-headed boy with a big grin, snapped a quick salute.

  Euphrankes took a deep breath, expelled it, and willed his anger and frustration to join the stale, filtered air. He managed a wry grin.

  "I'm taking off immediately," he called out. "Give me five."

  The boy nodded, and Euphrankes entered the bottom lock, which sealed quickly behind him. When the seal was complete, he climbed up through the membrane-like portal to the upper lock, and waited for it to seal behind him. Then, operating the upper lock manually by means of a wheel, he lowered the pressure inside to match the thin, anemic air of the outer atmosphere, and climbed quickly through. He turned, spun the wheel tight, and mounted the dangling rope ladder to The Vector.

  Above him, Aria had already opened the outer lock. He smiled. Even though it was much more difficult to catch his breath, the sensation of freedom that stole over him each time he left the lower levels behind buoyed his spirits. He climbed, pacing himself and conserving his breath. He didn't want to become lightheaded. If he fell, the odds were not good that he'd recover enough to climb again, or that Aria could get a lift down to him before he suffocated. He could have worn a suit, but he'd always preferred the risk – and the exhilaration – of facing the air beyond the First Veil on his own terms.