“I am not a thief,” Ampris said with a growl. “Or a savage. I do not want your home. Only your stick will I take, so you won’t hit me.”
The Reject stared at her uncomprehendingly. Ampris hobbled away, using the stick as a cane. She desperately needed to go to ground and nurse her hurts, but there was no place of refuge here. She followed her nose the rest of the way to the river.
The street ended right on its bank. A fallen shack lay in a heap of weed-covered debris and beyond it coursed a sluggish brown stream less than half its usual size. The reeds once growing along the water’s edge were now yellow and dead. White scum edged the water, and a flock of black, molting birds were busy pecking at dead fish lying on the mud. When Ampris appeared, the birds winged upward with squawks of alarm.
She staggered across the dried curls of mud and knelt at the river’s edge. Slapping away the white scum, she lifted a handful of water to her muzzle. The smell was awful, the taste even worse. Despite her thirst, she lapped only a little before she spat it out.
Weary and discouraged, she gazed around in hopes of finding a place where she might take shelter for the night. Maybe under an overhang of the bank would do, she thought.
The sun was going down in a blaze of color. Long shadows filled the fetid street behind her. She wanted only to lie down and nurse her aches and pains for a while.
“There she is!” came a shout.
Startled, Ampris looked up and saw the gang of Rejects heading her way. Many were armed now with stones and clubs.
Ampris’s fist curled tighter around the stick in her hand. As a weapon it wasn’t much.
“Wait!” she called, holding up her hand as they clustered above her on the bank. “I mean you no harm. I am not here to steal your food or your homes. I just want to—”
“Liar!” someone yelled. “Abiru thief!”
A stone thudded into her shoulder, and another hit her side where the Toth had kicked her earlier.
Crying out, Ampris clutched her side and doubled over. The Rejects swarmed down the bank toward her, yelling and throwing sticks, chunks of stone, pieces of garbage—anything they could use as a missile.
There was no reasoning with them. Ampris gritted her teeth and went stumbling across the dried riverbed to the water. While she splashed into it, more rocks thudded into her back. She dived into the shallow water. The murky brown water closed over her head, and she swiftly closed her nostrils while she struggled forward.
The current tugged at her, and she felt the bottom slope sharply under her feet. Suddenly she was in very deep water, in the main channel itself. She tried to paddle, but her crippled leg could not kick. Flailing about, she found her air running out. In desperation she struggled to the surface and thrust out her head with a gasp.
The shouting Rejects were running along the dry part of the riverbed, still throwing things. Little plops around her told her their aim was not very good at this distance. The current in the channel was stronger than it had looked from shore. It pulled Ampris out, and none of the Rejects entered the water to pursue her.
After a few minutes, they stopped running and watched her bobbing away from them.
Ampris grinned to herself, thrusting her muzzle high to keep her mouth out of the water. That was one way to escape them, she thought. But now that the excitement was over, she found new problems confronting her. The water was filthy, choked in places with trash and the bloated corpses of fish and animals. It stank terribly. The cuts and raw places on her feet were stinging from immersion. And every time she tried to do more than paddle, the pain in her side flared up sharply. It was all she could do to keep her head afloat.
The walls of the city ran parallel with the river. Occasionally she could hear city sounds over the rush and gurgle of the water. Skimmers and other traffic flew overhead occasionally, sunlight flashing off their bright sides, then Ampris found herself floating past a tiny settlement of tents and shacks clustered at the water’s edge. Young Aaroun cubs with short legs and rounded tummies were poking among the reeds with sticks. Seeing her, they watched wide-eyed and solemn as she floated by.
Ampris waved at them, but while their heads turned to watch her, they made no other response.
Her muscles were tiring now. Her shoulders ached, and she felt leaden and heavy. While the river had saved her from that little Reject hospitality committee, Ampris knew if she didn’t get out of the water soon, it would sweep her far from Vir. Eventually she would be one more corpse bobbing along with the others.
It was hard to pull free of the current, as sluggish as it was. Her muscles were very tired, and with her crippled leg all but useless in the water, she had to make her arms work twice as hard.
Desperately she struggled, calling on all her reserves, and finally angled her way to the shallows. Coughing and gasping for air, she came weaving and staggering up from the water, through the mud, where slimy reeds entwined about her, clinging to her fur like bands. She yanked and tugged to get free of them, lost her balance, and fell flat in the mud.
For a while she lay there, too spent to move, until a sharp peck on the back of her head brought her to.
She jerked up her head, and the bird squawked and flew off. Others wheeled above her, and with a shout she waved at them, driving the carrion eaters away. They would come back, though. She had to get out of here.
Somehow she found the strength to climb to her feet. She twisted and pulled free of the reeds, which left her smeared with loathsome green slime, and took two steps before she staggered to her knees again. Then she crawled across the ground, the dried curls of mud snapping to dust beneath her hands and knees, until she reached the eroded bank.
The base of the wall loomed above her as she collapsed near it. Sobbing, she cradled the Eye of Clarity in her filthy palms and gazed into its mysterious depths. “What do I do?” she asked it. “What do I do?”
No answer came, but after a while she grew calmer, comforted by the stone as always. Her eyelids grew heavy, until she could no longer lift them. She slept in the last blaze of sunset across the river, and the dying rays of light turned her muddy fur golden before twilight closed in and made her one more shadow among many.
The solemn tolling of a bell awakened her. With a start, she sat up and for a moment did not know where she was.
Then memory returned to her, and she lifted both hands to rub her face until she was fully awake. The rest had done her good. She still ached all over, and her fur was caked stiff with dried mud that stank, but the immersion in cool water had refreshed her by lowering her body temperature. Now an evening breeze blew, and it seemed to be cooler than usual from coming off the water.
Facing it, she sat there in the darkness, gazing at a sky that glowed with the reflection of city lights instead of stars.
She had been lucky, she decided. Despite her mistakes, she had survived. But she knew she had been too long away, too long isolated from the worst of the cruelty so typical of the empire. She’d forgotten how vicious life on the streets could be. Not that she’d ever been long in that environment. Elrabin had tried to warn her, but as usual she didn’t listen.
She sighed, wishing he were here now, with his common sense and straightforward encouragement.
As for the others in their group, none of them had ever been to Vir. None of them could possibly imagine how it was in this city. She pictured Harthril’s astonishment were he to come leading their little group into Reject Town and be met with such a welcome.
She smiled at the thought, but her amusement faded quickly. That might still happen, if she didn’t accomplish what she’d come to do. Although she’d escaped trouble, she hadn’t managed to get inside Vir. And if she didn’t obtain her objective quickly and return. Harthril would bring the others to this city, to be sucked as victims into its evil.
The bell that had awakened her tolled again. Ampris cocked her head, thinking it sounded familiar. The faint perfumed scent of a blooming garden wafted to her nostrils.
&
nbsp; Ampris looked up in sudden alertness and twisted around. For the first time she noticed that lamps atop the walls were shining down, reflected in the river. Only the new section of the palace had lamps on the walls.
Excitement burst inside her chest. She scrambled unsteadily to her feet. She was in the right part of the city, exactly where she needed to be.
The luck of it overwhelmed her. She thought about it for a moment and shivered. Too coincidental. No, it could not be luck. Whispering gratitude, she touched the Eye of Clarity hanging from her throat.
“You brought me here,” she murmured. She straightened her shoulders, standing more erect. Fresh energy filled her, and she felt hopeful again.
If she was this close, there had to be a way. The Archives were located in the underground passages beneath the old part of the palace. They were agonizingly close, yet unreachable. For to climb the palace walls meant instant death.
She wanted to roar with frustration.
Not knowing what else to do. she began to walk along the base of the walls. The darkness was shadowy, incomplete, sometimes lifted by lights shining from tall windows in ornamental towers. Yes, she recognized the palace now. She could hear the sounds of the changing of the guard from within. She could smell the gardens, their fragrance like paradise itself. Her heart was thumping hard, and she panted from excitement and a strange sense of fierce joy.
She was home.
Yet it was not home, she kept reminding herself, feeling anger too. The days when she’d been a carefree cub, pampered and privileged beyond all imagining, were long over. Too much had happened since then for her to go back. Nor did she want to be the naive young innocent again.
Still, to hear the sounds, to smell the gardens, to feel the heat of the day radiating from these old stone walls . . . it took her back to sweet memories of lazy days napping on sun cushions by the garden pools, to adventurous days prowling the reed marshes of a river that ran full, fast, and clean, to days of laughter, racing up and down the polished stone corridors of the palace, to days when civa cakes were fresh and warm.
Growling to herself, Ampris pushed away her memories just as she stumbled over an obstacle unseen in the darkness and nearly fell.
Breathless, she stepped back, wincing at the throbbing pain in her foot. When it faded, she explored cautiously and discovered that it was a mound of rubble where part of the wall had fallen.
Bending down, she felt of the stones and her fingers found chisel marks and grooves. The stones felt old, worn smooth with time and exposure. Ampris knew that the modern section of the palace wall was not built from stone like this. Her heartbeat quickened.
She was indeed outside the old part of the palace, the part deserted long ago. Weeds were growing over the rubble, which meant this section had fallen long ago and never been repaired. What was wrong with the palace, that it had grown so careless?
Behind her, she could see the modern section, its lamps shining in pale, iridescent orbs. The deadly force field that shielded the walls glowed white, but here by the older wall, no force field was on.
Ampris wondered why she had not realized it immediately. Perhaps weariness had slowed her wits.
Cautiously, knowing her hand could be blasted to bits, Ampris slowly placed it on the wall. She felt the stored heat of the day radiating from the stones, but no other power hummed there. The shield was not active.
Relief coursed through her. With renewed energy, she began climbing. The fallen stones shifted beneath her weight, and the poor footing threw considerable strain on her crippled leg. But she had hope now, hope and a chance. She kept climbing grimly until she was on top of the fallen stones. Before her, the wall rose several more feet, but Ampris gathered herself both mentally and physically.
Sliding her hand inside her jerkin, she clutched her Eye of Clarity tightly in her fist.
“Help me now,” she murmured, closing her eyes in supplication. “Help me find the strength of my youth.”
The clear stone in her hand seemed to grow warmer. Ampris focused on the sensation, letting her consciousness seep into it and become one with it. Over the years, she had gradually learned to stop hurling her desires and will at the stone. Instead, she had learned to calm herself inside and listen. When she did that, her mind always grew clearer. Usually the solution to her problem was then easily found.
The old voices of her gladiator trainers circled in her mind. Without realizing it, she nodded several times, remembering what to do. She imagined herself when she was young and powerful, at the peak of her physical prowess.
Her muscles rippled under her golden fur, and as she opened her eyes, she leapt upward. Her fingertips just hooked over the broken edge of the top. Gasping with the strain, she felt her arms shudder as she struggled to pull herself higher. She could not do it, could not make it. Yet Ampris gritted her teeth and kept on, despite the fiery burn in her arms and shoulders. With her right foot, she scrabbled for toeholds, pushing herself up, pushing.
Just when she thought she would burst a vessel from the strain, she hooked her elbow over the top, pulled, and rested her belly there. She lay on the wall a long time, panting hard, her eyes closed, arms and legs dangling over the sides. Gradually she grew aware of an intense, throbbing ache in her injured ribs, but Ampris did not care. She had made it. That was all that mattered.
It was a long time before she could straighten and sit up. She did so cautiously, grimacing with pain, and kept a lookout for scanners. But all the security measures seemed to be concentrated on the perimeter of the modern part of the palace compound.
As she perched there, she could see the imperial palace itself. Many lights shone from its oblong windows. Now and then a distinctive Viis silhouette appeared, then vanished. Faint laughter and the soft notes of music told Ampris that courtiers were strolling the grounds, probably savoring the delights of the gardens just before they went inside to dine.
The lazy, indolent life at court. How well she had once known it, she an Aaroun cub from nowhere, abducted at birth and sold on the black market to eventually become the beloved pet of a young and pampered sri-Kaa. What a fable it all seemed now. So long ago. So hard to believe any of it had ever happened.
The sound of a flying skimmer broke the quiet, and recalled Ampris to caution.
She looked over into the old palace compound and saw only darkness and the dim outlines of scattered buildings. Not daring to hesitate longer, she slid herself over the wall and let herself drop.
Landing with a jolt that shook her from her heels to the top of her head, Ampris bit back a yelp of pain and staggered several steps before falling to her knees and then sprawling full-length on the ground. Nothing was broken, but that drop had taken the final bits of her strength.
Wearily, she let her head sag to the ground, and lay where she’d fallen.
The kiss of sunrise woke her. Yawning, she stretched and sat up, wincing at how the hard ground had given her body new aches and sore places. Stiff and desperately hungry, she managed to get to her feet and looked around at an eerie, desolate ruin.
Restoration work, probably ordered by Israi’s father, had obviously at one time begun to make progress in repairing the crumbling buildings, but the work had been abandoned for quite some time.
Ampris saw collapsed scaffolding beneath an exquisite plaster frieze half-repaired and left unfinished. Weeds covered neat stacks of stones that had been brought in and then never used. She found a hydraulic chisel lying abandoned where the worker had laid it down next to a halved cornerstone. The chisel had rusted and been ruined from years of exposure, never to be picked up again.
And it was silent here. She listened to the sound of the wind whispering among the ruins. In the distance she could hear muted sounds of the city, and the bells that rang over the new palace, but here nothing stirred save a few insects. Ampris focused on them, pounced, and ate, crunching through the sharp bitter taste. It wasn’t enough to alleviate the terrible gnawing emptiness in her belly; forc
ing back desperation, she concentrated on finding the Archives.
Wandering about, she eventually came to a domed structure rising from the ground to about the height of her waist. Steps had been cut into the ground, leading down to a door. Perhaps it was an old workmen’s entrance. It looked abandoned and partially fallen in.
Discouraged, Ampris sank down to rest. Her legs were trembling weakly from hunger. She had come so far, risked so much, and now she wondered if the Archives even existed anymore.
In a few minutes, she pushed herself upright and went to check the door. From a distance it looked decrepit, but when she climbed down the crumbling steps, she found the door stout and well-made. It did not budge when she pushed it, and a complicated lock secured it.
Drawing in a breath, she bent to examine the lock more closely. Elrabin could have picked it, but it was beyond her skills.
The sound of footsteps made her straighten with a jerk. She hurried up the steps as fast as she could and came face-to-face with an elderly Myal garbed in a brown linen robe.
Flinging up his head so fast his mane rippled back from his face, the Myal stared at her in wide-eyed alarm. His broad mouth hung open, and he dropped the small bundle of lunch he was carrying.
Her nose told her it was meat globes and spice cakes. Her stomach growled and her mouth watered, and for a second she could think of nothing except food. It took all her willpower not to grab the fallen bundle.
Instead she licked her mouth and lifted her gaze to his. “Please,” she said hoarsely, her voice weak and unsteady. “Are you an—”
“Get away from here!” the Myal said angrily. He seemed to have recovered from his fright. His long, prehensile tail shot straight up into the air behind him while he flapped his hands at her. “Get away! You don’t belong here.”
Her mind was wavering. She was so hungry, so tired, so desperate. She knew he had to be an archivist, but his hostility was one more obstacle in a row of too many. He had to help her, but she couldn’t find the words she needed.
The Crystal Eye Page 18
