Paragaea

by Chris Roberson

  “I'm not sure of this plan, little sister,” Hieronymus said as Leena climbed into the purple-and-jet livery of the palace household staff. “Our plan hinges on the southern entrance to the palace spire going unwatched while the guard dallies with the laundry girl. We've no assurances that you'll even be able to make it through the door, without that gap to exploit.”

  “Possibly,” Leena answered, unconvinced. “But it seems likely to me that, with so many of the city's guards redirected to the steps of the Ministry of Justice, other areas of the city will be left less well defended.”

  Hieronymus nodded, his expression no less grave. “Perhaps. But I still don't like it.”

  “We have no choice, Hero.” Leena fastened the gold sash around her waist, and then regarded herself in a silvered glass on a nearby wall. The uniform fit her well enough, though the extra bunches of fabric at the bosom and thighs suggested that its rightful owner was considerably more curvaceous than she. She spun on her heel, her arms out to her sides, turning to face Hieronymus. “Well, how do I look?”

  Hieronymus took a step towards her, his brows knitted. “You have your knife, and your pistol?”

  “Naturally.” Leena patted the deep pockets stitched into either pants leg, the hard outline of the Makarov visible through the dark fabric.

  “Don't hesitate to use the latter, should circumstances require.”

  Leena raised an eyebrow. “And waste precious ammunition?”

  “Just…” Hieronymus said, and then paused. He chewed his lip, and regarded Leena closely. “Just be safe, understand? Do what you must to complete your task and to leave the tower in one piece.”

  Leena nodded slowly. “I understand,” she said. “But don't worry. I'll be fine.”

  Hieronymus managed a weak smile, but didn't speak.

  As Leena had suspected, the southern entrance to the palace spire was vacant and unguarded. She passed through the high arch, walking swiftly and with purpose, like a dutiful minion about her daily chores, and was not accosted.

  Leena and Hieronymus had been able to wheedle from Shafan the information that the Carneol was always kept in the throne room. When the underlord and underlady were in attendance, the Carneol was held by one or the other of them personally, ensign of their authority, but when they were in their private quarters or otherwise engaged, the gem was kept on display in a crystal case. The plan called for Leena to scale the spiraling stairs of the palace to the throne room, which occupied its highest peak, and once there take the Carneol from the case.

  Unfortunately, Shafan had not been able to say with certainty what sort of protection was provided the Carneol, when in the case. Were there guards? Beasts of some variety? Elaborate traps and baffles? Leena did not know. But as she stepped across the threshold and made her way towards the interior stair, her imagination conjured up dreadful possibilities.

  As she walked through the opulent corridors of the palace, festooned with tapestries and ceramic statues, Leena passed household servants about their business, but few guards, only a handful standing watch or walking on patrol, their ceramic cuirasses polished to a mirror shine. When she reached the interior stair, and mounted the steps, she found that she was alone, with no one ascending or descending above her. In a few minutes' time, she would reach the top, and the throne room.

  It seemed that Leena's surmise about the effect of the protest on the other areas of the city was proving correct. Perhaps, then, this inconvenient acceleration of their schedule would prove a blessing in disguise. Assuming, of course, that something horrible did not await her in the throne room above, for which their plans had no contingent.

  The creature beyond the door to the throne room, ancient and bent, was the last sight Leena expected to see. An ancient woman, dressed in the vermilion whose use was taboo for all but the Helean monarchs themselves, stood near a wide window, looking down at the rings of Hele below, and the innumerable caves beyond, distant and indistinct in the twilit gloom. A brazier burned between a pair of thrones on a dais, casting a faint yellow glow across the room, and set into the wall above was a crystal case, sitting open and empty.

  “Underlady Persefonh,” Leena said, breathless both from mounting the countless steps of the interior stair, and from running headlong into the monarch of the hidden city unexpectedly.

  The old woman turned slightly, her watery eyes glancing Leena's way. In her gnarled hands was a multifaceted gem the size of a man's fist, scarlet and seeming to glow with an inner light.

  “The Carneol,” Leena said in a whisper.

  The underlady's green skin was wrinkled, and parchment-thin, veins standing like blue cords beneath the surface.

  “They have not returned yet, you know,” Persefonh said in a careworn, husky voice. “If they had survived, we'd have seen some sign of them by now. So Hele is not to have a new underlord and underlady just yet, and I will have to continue to carry my burden alone.” She lifted the red gem until it was only centimeters from her nose, a strange expression on her wrinkled features. “And my burden has become so heavy, of late.”

  Leena, hesitantly, took a step forward, playing the part of the dutiful household servant. “Your Majesty, is there…is there anything you require?”

  The underlady shook her head, absently, and turned back towards the window.

  “I was just a child of seven summers when Akerohn and I were selected from the royal creches, you know,” she said, glancing momentarily at the empty throne across the floor. “Before we even fully understood what was happening, we'd been fed the sacred pomegranates, and sent out into the tunnels, the final tests of the coronation rituals. The future rulers of Hele, after all, have always had to prove their worth by going into the consecrated tunnels, passing a full day and night, and returning with the gemstones which the ancient religion of our foreparents holds sacred.” She paused, and then turned back to Leena with a rueful smile on her narrow mouth. “Just rocks, really. Don't tell anyone, my dear, but the sacred gemstones were really just rocks, pebbles found down in the caves. Perhaps in ancient days children who returned without the proper gems were denied the throne of Hele, but in recent centuries, we'll crown anyone who returns from the caves half-alive.”

  Leena drew closer, her hands held behind her back, her eyes respectfully on the floor. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “There is danger in the caves; there is no doubt of that. Even if the children survive, they can be crippled by falling rocks and the like. Most that fail in the attempt are lost forever to the caves, their bodies never found. So if a pair of children return with a bit of gravel, they ascend to the throne of Hele and are given the Carneol, and no one thinks twice about it.” The underlady sighed, and cradled the scarlet gem in her withered hands. “As history records, in some eras the trials seem to go without incident, the first pair of children who are sent out returning unharmed at the end of the appointed term. In other eras, though, wave after wave of children are sent into the dark caves, two by two, with none returning after the long days and weeks.” She looked back to Leena, her expression weary. “Leaving the surviving regent to occupy the throne, all the while. Alone.”

  Leena was now little more than a meter away, her head still bowed deferentially.

  “I just want to step down and hand over the signet of office.” Persefonh closed her eyes, and her chin fell to her chest. “I am just so very tired, and I miss my Akerohn, and I just want to sleep.” She opened her eyes again, looking down angrily at the gem in her hands. “And the Carneol is such a heavy burden to bear.”

  Leena's hand drifted to her pocket, and closed around the hilt of her knife.

  “Is there no one who can take this burden from me?”

  Leena lunged forward, and struck the underlady with the butt of her knife's hilt, clouting a blow to the back of the old woman's skull where it met the neck.

  The underlady collapsed to the ground in a heap, vermilion gowns swirling around her, and the Carneol clattered noisily to the floor. />
  “I'm sorry.” Leena sighed, stepping over the still form of the underlady and snatching up the Carneol.

  The narrow chest of the underlady rose and fell. Leena had struck hard enough to knock her unconscious, but not hard enough to kill, or so Leena hoped. She slipped the Carneol and the knife back into her pocket, and slipped away to the interior stair.

  Hieronymus was waiting in the municipal laundry for Leena when she returned.

  “What happened?” Hieronymus said, jumping to his feet and rushing towards her. “Are you all right?”

  “More than all right,” Leena said grimly, and held the Carneol out for his inspection. “Now, hand me my clothes so we can be away from here.”

  As they had hoped, they found Balam at their rooms at the tavern, his unconscious daughter stretched out on a cot. Her head was bandaged, swaddled with turns of linen, but she seemed to be breathing regularly.

  “How is she…?” Hieronymus began, then broke off when he saw his friend's tearstained cheeks.

  “She has…She has yet to regain her senses,” Balam said, wiping his face dry on the back of his hand, smoothing out his fur. “But her injuries don't seem serious, and I think that she should be fine. Given time, she should be fine.”

  The jaguar man knelt by the side of the cot, and took his insensate daughter's hand in his own.

  “We need to be away, and quickly,” Leena said, gathering up her things, secreting the scarlet gem in her pack.

  “Yes, the authorities are busy with the rabble for the moment,” Hieronymus said, stuffing his clothes and supplies into his own pack, “but they will begin searching for the agitators' ringleader before long”—he pointed at the unconscious Menchit—“and too many have seen her comings and goings for their search not to lead them straight here.”

  “Agreed.” Balam took a deep breath, and rose to his feet. He began fastening the buckles of his harness, slipping his knives back into their sheaths.

  “But what of Benu?” Leena said. “I should hate to abandon him here, without any word from us.”

  “I won't risk my daughter's safety by waiting,” Balam said sternly.

  “That won't be necessary,” said a voice from the door, and Hieronymus and Leena spun around, their swords drawn.

  Benu stood in the open doorway, a strange expression on his face, his opalescent eyes unreadable.

  “And now our company is complete,” Hieronymus said with a sigh of relief, sliding his saber back into its scabbard.

  “No.” Benu shook his head, and smiled slightly. “I won't be going with you.”

  Leena stopped short, and looked at the artificial man, confused. “Why ever not?”

  Benu looked at the unconscious form of the Sinaa on the cot. “There isn't time to explain now. You must follow me into the caverns, and quickly. I know a way out of the city by which you can avoid the city guards, and I have something to show you.”

  With that, the artificial man turned, and hurried away down the corridor. Leena glanced at Hieronymus, who shrugged, as Balam carefully slung his daughter across his shoulder.

  “Let's go, then,” Leena said, and followed Benu into the corridor.

  They reached the city gates in the outer wall of the ninth ring without incident, and found only one guard on duty. Seeing the unconscious Sinaa female draped over Balam's shoulder, though, the guard was immediately brought on the defensive, raising his trident and shouting for them to halt immediately.

  “I'm sorry, but we don't have time for this,” Benu said, and in an eyeblink, struck a lightning-fast blow with the heel of his palm to the guard's chin. The guard's head snapped back, violently, and he fell to the flagstones, his trident clattering to the ground beside him.

  “Come along,” Benu called back impatiently over his shoulder, hurrying away from the gate at speed. “It wouldn't do to be apprehended so close to freedom.”

  Benu's course carried him away from the city, towards the cave mouths that pocked the walls of the immense cavern, heading out into the eternal twilight.

  Benu led them to the mouth of a wide tunnel, dimly lit and mysterious.

  “I have discovered,” he explained, “why the wizard-kings of Atla were interested in the Lathe Mountains, and how Hele came to be.”

  “This is fascinating trivia, I'm sure,” Hieronymus said as the artificial man stepped into the gloom of the cave mouth, motioning them to follow, “but I fail to see its relevance to our present circumstances. I thought you knew of some passage out of these caverns, and yet you lead us now to a cave which to all appearances will lead us even further from daylight.”

  “You will see,” Benu said, disappearing into the darkness beyond the tunnel mouth. “All answers are revealed within.”

  Hieronymus, Leena, and Balam were left standing in the twilight, peering into the darkened cave tunnel. On his shoulder, Balam's daughter stirred, moaning piteously in her sleep.

  “Well,” Leena said, glancing back at the walls of the city, and the tram tracks that mounted the opposite wall of the cavern. “I don't see that we have much choice, at this point.”

  “The tram is too closely guarded,” Balam said. “We'd have to fight our way to the surface, and I question how effective I would be in combat with Menchit across my back.”

  “Agreed,” Hieronymus said. “Well, let's hope our strange artificial friend has discovered something miraculous, indeed.”

  As they moved deeper into the tunnel, Leena's eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she could see faintly in grays and blacks, a monochromatic world. If the cavern of Hele was a perpetual twilight, the tunnel was a moonless night.

  Benu was in the lead, directing them with the sound of his voice, while the others followed close behind, trying to stay within arm's reach of one another. Periodically they reached a juncture between two tunnels, and Benu would pause for them to catch up before starting down a branch.

  “Regard the snaking character of the tunnels, my friends,” Benu said. “And your eyes may not have the sensitivity to see them in fine detail, but the shadows you see on the tunnel walls are other, smaller veins, some no wider than a finger's breadth, which intersect the larger passages at intervals.”

  “We seem no closer to the surface,” Balam growled. “The only sight I wish to see is clear blue skies overhead. I've had enough of these damned caverns to last two lifetimes.”

  “But what engenders such strange ducts in living rock?” Benu went on. “There's no evidence of volcanism here, and even if there were, the passage of molten rock or volcanic gases does not produce artifacts such as these. So whence came they?”

  “I detect a rhetorical tone to your words,” Hieronymus said impatiently, “and suspect that you already have an answer to your questions.”

  “Quite so,” Benu said, and turned down a branching corridor.

  As Leena came around the bend, she saw a faint light glowing up ahead. “What…is that?”

  “I would tell you now,” Benu said with a smile, “but I do so hate to spoil the surprise.”

  The company continued down the tunnel, the light around them intensifying as they drew near the juncture up ahead.

  Benu stopped at the juncture, and gestured beyond the curve of the tunnel wall, glancing back eagerly at the company. “There,” he said proudly. “There are all your answers.”

  Leena and Hieronymus rounded the corner, Balam following close behind, and found themselves in a wide chamber, lit bright as day. To their left, a passage branched off, climbing at a steep angle, while to their right, against a far wall, hovered a silver sphere, twin to the one that had brought Leena to Paragaea.

  “A gate!” Leena said in an urgent whisper.

  “Yes,” Benu said, taking a few steps towards the silver sphere. “Gates seem to appear with startling regularity within the Lathe Mountains, but they are transient, lasting sometimes for moments, sometimes more than a century. But, short-lived as they are, they migrate, moving from one point to another before disappearing. It wa
s these wandering gates that carved out the tunnel complexes of Hele.” Benu pointed to the passage branching to the left. “That corridor leads to the surface, and will take you to the southern foothills of Lathe.”

  “So why aren't you coming with us?” Hieronymus said, his eyes on the silvery sphere.

  “Because I intend to traverse the gate,” Benu said, “and see what lies on the other side.”

  “What?” Balam said, drawing back.

  “And why wouldn't I? When I first joined your company, in the forests of Altrusia, I indicated my desire to travel to Earth. It will be an entire world of new information to gather. I'd have purpose once more, with an unwritten book of knowledge to fill.”

  Leena stepped forward, mesmerized by the floating sphere. “I'm going with you,” she said breathlessly.

  “You'll do no such thing!” Hieronymus said, grabbing hold of her arm. “You have no way of knowing when or where the gate will take you. Benu may be willing to take that risk, but I thought that you wanted to return to your own time and place, not just any chance point in Earth's history.”

  Leena looked from Hieronymus to the silvery sphere, and nodded reluctantly. “You're right, of course,” she said at length. “I just…I just don't know how close I'll come again.”

  “Have faith, little sister,” Hieronymus said, smiling. “We'll press on to Atla. If the wizard-kings know how to predict or map gates of particular characteristics, I promise you we'll squeeze the knowledge from them.”

  Balam's daughter, slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, stirred. The light from the silvery sphere seemed to flicker, inconstant for a moment, and then stabilized.

  “I don't want to delay much longer,” Benu said, stepping nearer the sphere. “With no way of predicting the movements of these gates, I've no way of knowing whether it will last for another millennium or another heartbeat, but I don't want to take the chance of it disappearing.” He turned to the company and smiled fondly. “Farewell, my friends. These last months you have given me something which I thought I'd never find again. Companionship. And for that, you have my thanks.”