The stones continued to slope away beneath her feet. Although most were stable, here and there a stone would turn or move, threatening to send her tumbling or twist an ankle. Her progress was fretfully slow, but progress it was, and that pushed her forward. Getting away from the madness and the mists and being able to see at least something of her surroundings was all Allette could think of. Each step brought her closer and was, in itself, a victory. Fear had conquered her in the past, and even she had almost refused to come on this trip to the Heights because of her fear. Now, though, she knew just how right she'd been. She should never have come to this horrible place, and now it would be the death of her. Surely there was no way she'd ever find her way home.
* * *
His lantern dim, Sensi walked the halls like a haunted man. The thrower and a mere child dead--or as good as dead. Even if the girl did survive for a time, the rains would come. There was nothing he could have done differently, he reminded himself. He had done only as his duty required. He hadn't thrown the thrower from the Heights, and he hadn't cast the girl into the Cloud Forest, assuming she survived the initial fall. The memory of it played over and over in his head, his own personal nightmare.
The lord chancellor had said only to prepare a funeral rite for the thrower, and men had already been dispatched to reclaim his body. And what of the child's body? What if they returned with the girl as well? What would he do then?
The questions drove him to walk faster, as if he could run from the feeling of responsibility that would not be deterred. Tears filled his eyes, and he sobbed once before reaching his quarters. He wasn't certain what he would do when the men returned, but for that moment, all he could do was kneel down and beg for forgiveness.
* * *
Beneath the clouds waited what looked like a magical place. And perhaps it was. Her father had always said that magic might be beautiful, but it'll bite you as quick as a snake. That was the way this place felt, as if it were just waiting to show her something beautiful right before eating her. Shivering, Allette stepped from rock onto mossy soil that sank a little beneath her weight. Again she heard whispering in the mists, but this time it had a much more human tone, and she could just make out the words, "Don't know why I come. No one cares. The fool has forgotten about me."
Allette crouched down and moved back toward the concealment of the mists, seeing a distinct form moving through the foliage. The mists concealed her but also blinded her, and she could hear little more than the occasional footfall and what sounded like an animal moving on four legs. Even those sounds faded, and Allette finally allowed herself to move back into the preternatural glow that enveloped the Cloud Forest. This was no place for her, she thought. She belonged on the deck of a ship, not in a jungle. All the things she knew were useless here. It was a realization that crushed her confidence. Before she'd thought herself capable, ready and able to take on any challenge; coming to this place had proven her to be weak and ignorant. Here she was but a child, and there was no one to guide her.
On instinct, she looked for tracks in the rich soil. Her father had always said that a ship's tracks fade quickly, whereas a man's footfall might remain for years. It didn't take long for her to find something. Though not initially obvious, there was something of a trail leading into the jungle. It did not appear heavily used but was just clear enough to allow passage without having to battle the jungle. The plants frightened Allette as much as the wildlife that lurked within the trees and the mosses that covered almost everything else. Moisture clung to her clothing, which steamed, and she tried to remember what it felt like to be dry. Misty rain fell intermittently, and at other times it poured. When the rain stopped for more than a few breaths, Allette looked for more tracks in the soft moss, but the rains had erased most of the evidence. In truth, she wasn't certain she wanted to follow whomever it was who had been within the mists, but she had nowhere else to go, and at least this trail made it easier to move through the forest. It seemed more like a jungle to Allette. She'd always imagined forests as orderly places with long shadows and red leaves carpeting the forest floor.
This place was another thing altogether. Glossy and slick in the constant rain, it was a riot of life, twisting and competing for light. Never before had she thought of plants as competitive, but here they were, the strong smothering the weak and taking the light for themselves. Perhaps plants were not so unlike people after all, she thought. It was then that the forest showed its teeth; finger-length thorns, sharp as cat's claws, hid beneath supple, satiny leaves on a twisted, ropelike vine. It took only an instant for Allette to brush up against the plant and the pain to flare in her side. She took one more startled step but stopped abruptly as the thorns dug deeper. Gasping, she stepped back, and the vine moved with her, causing searing pain as its angle in relation to her body changed. With a slow and deliberate movement, Allette pulled herself away from the vine, which she steadied with both hands. The deep wounds bled freely. Allette took an unsteady step, realizing that she may have reached her end.
It was her father's will that pushed her forward at that moment. He would not give up. He would not just lie down and die. He would fight. He would live! But he had not, another voice in her head added. He was dead and she was alone. The thoughts nearly took her to her knees, but she would not let that voice win. Every time she did, it seemed to take a piece of her, and she could not afford to lose any more of herself. This challenge she faced would require everything from her, even the blood that currently dripped past her fingers and onto the moss, leaving a crimson trail. Books had told her that a wounded animal would draw predators, and she tried to push that knowledge from her mind.
Breathing heavily and moving unsteadily, Allette stepped between the gnarled branches of two huge trees whose trunks, a few feet apart, were twisted together several feet up to form something of a grand entranceway. On the other side, things looked different than elsewhere in the forest, and it took her addled mind a moment to register what she saw. It was unlike anything she'd ever heard or dreamed of. This place was made out of plants and trees, but it had been shaped by human hands. Along the borders grew trees that had been woven together to form a massive natural fence. Underneath ran a bubbling stream, its bed covered with rounded rocks free of lichen and moss.
Near the center of the glade stood a house of woven trees. A door made of branches and vines appeared to be the only entrance, and smoke rolled out of a stone chimney. How anyone could have created such a place was beyond her comprehension, and she stood gaping for some time, her mind moving ever slower as the life blood slipped from her body. When the attack came, she didn't even move. Only the sound of an animal running on all fours preceded the attack, and all Allette sensed were claws and teeth accompanied by a terrible howl. It felt as if she'd been hit in the chest with a hammer, and she fell backward onto the thick grasses and moss. Her vision faded as she fell, darkness enveloping her, and the last thing she felt before she succumbed was searing pain.
* * *
A fine wax candle burned on an iron holder. Only the thinnest line of black smoke rose from it, proof of its quality. A pity the holder was so crude, Sensi had always thought; it seemed wrong to foul such fine candles with a crude and wretched holder.
"The world is changing, Sensi," the lord chancellor said. "If we don't change with it, we'll be left behind."
Sensi had heard these words before, but he wasn't so certain. Change seemed the most frightening thing of all to Sensi. He was comfortable and safe. He knew his role in life; he knew his job well. The lord chancellor seemed bent on changing that. It was most uncomfortable, indeed. When the lord chancellor pulled the figurine from within his robes, Sensi got a cold feeling in his stomach. There was already blood on this figurine in his opinion, and it could only lead to more.
"Only a few of these were ever made, and most were destroyed long ago, but the gods have blessed me with this, and I'll not let that gift go unused. If we'd had this twenty years ago," the lord chancello
r continued, the figurine inert and lifeless in his hand, unlike when the girl had held it, "we could've avoided all that unpleasantness with Thundegar Rheams."
"How would that have kept him from being thrown from the Heights?" Sensi asked.
"It wouldn't. It would've gotten him thrown sooner, which would have avoided some of the unpleasantness that led up to his being thrown."
"I still don't see how," Sensi started to say, but a look silenced him.
A moment later a knock came at the stout and bolted door. The lord chancellor used this room only for meetings he didn't necessarily want anyone else to know about. Sensi eyed the door with concern and didn't move. The lord chancellor just made a rude sound and opened the door himself, a task that Sensi knew was beneath him. He reminded himself that the lord chancellor could just as easily have him thrown from the Heights; it was a thought he did not relish.
Merini, chief among the lord chancellor's guard, entered the room with a bow to the lord chancellor and a nod to Sensi. He was a thick man wrapped in black hair and looked to Sensi to be as hard as the rock around them.
"My lord," Merini said after the lord chancellor nodded to him, "the protocol for seeking your grace's counsel has been amended per your request. Once you've acknowledged each supplicant, they are to accept the figurine from your hands, turn it about in their hands while keeping eye contact with you, and then return it to you."
"Good," the lord chancellor said, a smile now coming to his face. "And the position of thrower?"
"Has been filled, your grace," Merini said.
Sensi had no doubt the lord chancellor knew exactly who the new thrower would be, but he was not supposed to know, and the game must be played--always the game. Sensi tired of it.
Again, the lord chancellor smiled. "I believe there is a backlog of petitioners waiting for an audience with me. Now I feel inclined to grant some of those audiences. Do I recall Furman Rand and Echter Donds having requests in for additional trading berths?"
Merini nodded.
"Summon them. I wish to hear their petitions personally."
Sensi swallowed hard. Both men had campaigned against the lord chancellor, and he knew now that their fates rested with an ancient figurine.
"And I've been thinking about the members of the old guard. I'd like to check in with each of them, especially Onin. This visit is mandatory; I insist."
* * *
The predator watched her. Allette remained as still as stone. She felt confined, trapped, and she wasn't certain she could stand. Green eyes regarded her with clear intent. Thick brown and black fur reminded Allette of a tabby cat, but this was no house cat. It was the size of a hound with a fluffy tail.
Allette twitched involuntarily, and the cat reacted by crouching down, looking as if it were about to pounce on its prey: Allette. But it didn't pounce; instead, it climbed down from the wood-framed hammock on which it had been resting and lowered itself to the floor, which was where Allette now realized she was lying. There was a blanket beneath her and another folded under her head. A low fire burned nearby; she could smell it and feel the heat.
The cat walked toward her sideways, its back arched and hair raised. The look in its eyes promised death, and Allette moved her parched lips, her voice coming out harsh and rough, "Nice kitty kitty."
The words had the opposite of the desired effect.
With two hops, the massive cat bounced sideways toward her. Then it was leaping for her face. Allette was so startled that she couldn't even scream. The lithe form slammed onto the floor at Allette's side, and claws whipped out at her, but they did not connect. Instead, they dug into the folded blanket beneath her aching head. After grabbing on to it, the cat wove its head back and forth, its eyes wide and focused. Twice, the cat's mighty back legs kicked the blanket, and Allette felt as if she'd been punched in the face. But then the door swung inward, and a large form filled the doorway.
The cat leaped upright and arched its back again before bouncing once or twice on all four paws, its ears back and eyes wide.
"Quit being a bother, you crazy cat! Off with you!" The man's voice was full of gravel and grit but not malice. The cat let out a trill then leaped back onto the hammock, where it preened. "You're awake, I see."
Allette nodded, unsure what to make of this man. His clothes were ragged and torn, his hair thinning and gray, but his hands looked as if they could crack walnuts.
"They didn't really throw you from the Heights, did they? Was it yesterday?"
Allette just nodded twice, not trusting her voice or this man.
He let out a low whistle. "You're just a child. What have they come to that they are throwing babies from the Heights?"
A flush rose to Allette's cheeks. "I'm no child and they didn't exactly throw me from the Heights."
The man sat back and reappraised her. "Tell me. I must know how you came to be here."
"I don't even know who you are."
Again the man looked her over. "You don't have the look of the Heights about you, but you don't look quite Midlander either. My name may mean nothing to you. I'm Thundegar."
Thundegar. The name tickled at Allette's muddled memory; she knew she'd heard that name before, and that was when she remembered what Sensi had said about the thrower. "No one has been thrown from the Heights in decades. You're no Thundegar Rheams, I'll tell you that. That fool left the Thrower no other choice."
Though the old man watched her face, Allette tried not to let on that she knew who he was, though she knew precious little about him beyond the fact that he'd been thrown from the Heights decades before. What crimes had this man committed? she asked herself.
"Please. Tell me how you came to be here."
"I escaped the thrower," she said, fairly certain Thundegar would have similar feelings about the people who'd cast them out but not willing to risk telling him the complete truth. "And then I climbed down."
"Climbed?"
"Fell."
Silence, heavy with tension and doubt, hung between them after that exchange.
"Who died?" Thundegar asked, and Allette felt her stomach churn. Slowly she tried to push herself up. "Not yet. Stay down for now. You had a bad case of cloud rot, and you need food, water, and rest."
As if summoned by his words, a tickle irritated her throat, and she lay back down, coughing, her side aching. Thundegar brought water in a wooden cup that leaked terribly. "I was a metalsmith," Thundegar said when handing her the cup. "I haven't held a hammer in twenty years, and there's no metal here for me to work with, so I'm forced to work with wood. Do you know what it's like to lose your passion, your art?"
There was a faraway look in his eyes, and he no longer seemed to be talking to her. There was an awkward moment when he suddenly recalled she was there.
"I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I've had anyone to talk with except Rastas, and he listens like a rock."
The man's words and manner soothed Allette's fears, and she relaxed, the cool, clear water tasting wonderful.
"You should rest," he said, and he moved toward the door. "Come on, Rastas, you crazy cat."
The feline yawned, stretched, and ignored him.
"You see what I mean?" Thundegar asked and opened the door without waiting for a response.
"The thrower," Allette said before he closed the door behind himself. Thundegar froze and Allette hoped she hadn't made another mistake. "It was the thrower who died."
"How?" Thundegar asked, his emotions unreadable.
Allette sighed. Her life was in this man's hands, and she could not afford for him to think her a murderer, but she no longer wanted to lie to him. "I threw him from the Heights," she said before her courage faded.
Thundegar remained silent for some time.
"He was going to throw me from the Heights, I just knew it," she said, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. This man could seek his own justice if he so chose. "I did the only thing I could think of, I fell on my back and kicked. I didn't know he would go ov
er. I didn't kill him on purpose."
Thundegar stood in the doorway, his body convulsing and twitching. Allette started to push herself up, ready to at least make a feeble attempt at defending herself. But then the sound of Thundegar's laughter reached her.
"You may think me cruel for laughing over the death of a man, but this was a very bad man, and you brought him the justice he for so long deserved. Do not chastise yourself; you didn't kill this man out of malice. You did what you had to do to survive. If I could have, I'd have done it twenty years ago. You succeeded where I failed. You're a treasure indeed. Now, though, you should rest."
"But I killed him," Allette said, suddenly overcome with emotion.
"Yes, you did," Thundegar said, his voice soft, his tone gentle. "If it makes you feel any better, that man tried to kill me and others before me."
"But Sensi said no one had been thrown from the Heights since you."
Thundegar laughed a harsh, bitter laugh. "I assume people learned not to speak out against the corruption and hypocrisy after I was thrown. The thrower was not a man of moral fortitude; he was known for taking bribes. I found this to be true on the day of my trial. I bribed him not to throw me, and he took the money, yet he tossed me from that cliff without a second thought. No. I've no sadness over his death, and neither should you."
The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) Page 52
