Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  There was no one on the dais, and no one near it in the cavern, but he thought there might be someone at the far end of the chamber. He could not tell for sure, because there was something about the chamber, almost as if it reflected his Talent back at him.

  Rifle in hand, he stepped around the screen wall onto the dais, a stone platform really, five yards on a side. The dimness vanished as a line of light-torches on the screen wall flared into full illumination.

  He blinked at the sudden comparative brightness that threw the cavernous area before him into darkness.

  “Oh…” The moaning sound echoed from more than a score of yards before him, in the darkness well away from the platform.

  “One of the great ones…”

  “Do you bring word of the True Duarchy?”

  “We have waited, and we have been faithful…”

  Alucius immediately called up the illusion of nothingness, of little more than a breeze, and immediately, the cavern amphitheater was filled with the sound of roaring wind. He staggered at the intensity of the sound, before realizing that the roaring was all within his head and that something in the design of the place amplified Talent.

  What could he say? What could he do?

  He concentrated on creating an image…not of an ifrit…but of a man, but an image far larger than life, and one that shimmered in green and gold.

  “Ohh…” The moaning from the worshippers in the back, for that was what they must have been, Alucius concluded, rose, then died away.

  He spoke, as carefully as he could, in such unexpected circumstances. “Man must live in the world as it is…and tend it with care. The Duarches plundered and pillaged. Do not ask for a return to the Duarchy and those who ravaged Corus! Do not ask for slavery and death.”

  “The lamaial! It is the lamaial!”

  “Lost…we are lost! All is lost!”

  Alucius sensed the hostility and the lifting of rifles.

  He dropped the image of the green and gold figure, and replaced it with…nothing…an image of nothingness, even as he dashed back through the archway.

  A single rifle shot echoed through the chamber behind him.

  Back in the chamber behind the screen wall, he stepped through the door he had left ajar, closing it behind him. He retreated back down the stone corridor, around the curves, and back to the chamber that had once held a Table.

  He had no idea whether the remaining worshippers knew about the hidden doorway or the passage beyond or whether they would even try to follow, but he could sense that Wendra was nowhere near the portal, and there was little sense in remaining in Hyalt in the ruins of what had been the temple of the prophet—or prophets. He had to wonder why he had not discovered the concealed cavern amphitheater and decided that the Talent-reflective construction might have shielded it. He paused, realizing that also might explain why he had been unable to sense the hidden doors in the Table chambers. Perhaps they had been Talent-shielded.

  He stepped down into the depression where once the Table had been. He did not concentrate on the Table, but upon the green-tinged blackness below the faded amber.

  He dropped into that chill greenish darkness, but that darkness, chill as it was, did not seem quite so paralyzing as when he had used the Tables. But it was still cold, and he searched for a direction, for the faded crimson gold. As he felt himself moving away from the amber of Hyalt, once more he sensed the blue and maroon portal, still distant, and the closer pinkish purple, noting its familiarity even as he dismissed it.

  The crimson-gold-silver shattered away from him……and he stood back in the Table chamber in Dereka.

  Alucius surveyed the chamber, his rifle ready, his Talent probing up the stairwell; but there was no one nearby, and he sat down. He took several deep breaths, letting his feet rest on the bottom of the depression that had once held a Table, millennia before. He set the rifle down carefully on a clear patch of stone. Only then did he take a long drink from the water bottle before recorking it and replacing it in its belt holder.

  Had he been foolish to try to influence the true believers? He laughed softly, almost hoarsely. He’d known better. He just hadn’t thought when he’d been confronted so suddenly with the unexpected.

  Also, he’d been almost stunned by the Talent-amplification of the cavern amphitheater. But had it really been amplification? Alucius frowned. As he considered what he had experienced, it had not so much been the amplification of Talent as the total elimination of all other lifeforces, and the comparative feeling of Talent-amplification. Was that so that the ifrits could command greater control—or so that those who were not true ifrits could create the impression of such control?

  He wondered if he would ever know.

  Every time he ventured into using his Talent, he discovered something else he didn’t know. He supposed that was true of life, as well, but with Talent, the dangers could be so much greater.

  Just before he had broken through the barrier, and again as he was leaving Hyalt, Alucius had noted the portal of pink-tinged purple, and he had not recalled such a Table octagon on the ifrit map. It was a portal, not a Table. Of that, he had been certain.

  Pink…and purple…was that the Regent of the Matrial?

  He scarcely wanted to go there. Where else could he go? He took out the ifrit map of Corus and scanned it, once, twice. His memory had been correct. There had been no pink purple Table, but there had been a maroon and blue Table—in Dulka. So what had created the pink and green portal if there had been no Table? Something that the Matrial had discovered?

  He shook his head. He still needed to find Wendra, and if he could not find her near the abandoned portals, he would have to try the Tables in places where he had not yet been. And…if he could not find her, he might have to risk the Table in Salaan in order to return to Dekhron.

  For the moment, he pushed that thought away. He had to find Wendra…as soon as he had a few moments of rest.

  135

  As he sat on the stone floor in the former Table chamber in Dereka, Alucius frowned. From what he could tell, he’d been gone three days, and that wasn’t good. He had yet to find any sign of Wendra, and he had no quick way to return to Dekhron—except by facing at least two ifrits in Salaan. While they might not always be right at the Table, the only way out was through the area where they seemed to meet and work. Then, too, with the way the one had appeared, he had to consider that they might have a Talent-based warning system. Add to that the fact that he was the commander of the Northern Guard, and he’d effectively deserted, even if he hadn’t meant to, and he hadn’t solved the ifrit problem. Nor had he found Wendra.

  His note to Feran might buy some time, especially since Feran knew the problems created by the traders, but he had to find some answers or some way back quickly—for more than one reason. If Wendra were in danger, the longer she was held, the more likely the ifrits might be able to possess her—or kill her if they could not. Yet…he really didn’t know whether they even had his wife. Could the soarers have taken her? Only the ifrits or the soarers seemed to be able to travel from point to point without leaving traces. But…even if they could, why would the soarers take Wendra? And Alendra? Everything that they had done in the past had protected Alucius. Were they trying to protect her as well? From what? The efforts of the ifrits?

  He had no idea exactly what the ifrits were doing, beyond the general description provided by the soarers about the ifrits’ domination and eventual destruction of Corus. Had more ifrits arrived from their world? If so, what could he do, especially since the soarers seemed to have cut themselves off from the travel tubes of the ifrits and even from the deeper lines of travel that Alucius had discovered?

  He took a deep breath. He was rested, and there were only two portals left that he had not explored—the one in Dulka, and the one that reminded him of the Matrial. What else could he do but explore each, as quickly as possible? If he found nothing…then what?

  Did he try to return to the Table in Sala
an, rifle loaded and cartridge belt filled with lifeforce-filled shells?

  He didn’t see any alternative. But first…the last two portals. Maybe they would reveal something that he didn’t know. Each time he tried, he could also see if he could sense a soarer portal.

  Alucius stepped into the Table depression, rifle again in hand, taking several deep breaths.

  Once more, he sank through the floor and into the deeper and more greenish black misty darkness underlying the purpled blackness of the ifrit transport tubes. The chill, while intense, was not nearly so wearing, and he tried to concentrate on the portal that was blue and maroon, and avoid the purple and pink one until later.

  Alucius focused his mind on lifting himself out of the misty blackness, out of the chill and back into the world of light through the blue and maroon. Once more, there was a barrier, one of blued silver. He formed himself into a spearhead of being…

  Silver, blue, and maroon mixed in a swirl of chill slashes that shattered away from him in icy shards.

  The chamber in which he found himself was empty, and he stood in the oblong depression that had characterized all chambers that had once held an ifrit Table. For a moment, Alucius gripped his rifle even more tightly as he saw the ifrit figures standing on the stone floor around the Table depression. He relaxed slightly as he realized that they were statues, but statues such as he had never seen.

  The larger-than-life-sized figures were carved of white marble. All thirteen figures had hair painted black and wore clothing of the type that the Tarolt-ifrit had worn, brilliant green and deep purple. Likewise, the sculpted boots had been painted black. The facial features were similar to those of the ifrit on the frieze in Southgate or those depicted in the ancient wall paintings he had seen years before in the hidden room in Dereka.

  There were six figures on each of the longer sides of the chamber and a single figure at one end. The single figure was slightly larger than the others, close to three yards in height, and held a silver scepter topped with glittering blue stones arranged so that the top of the scepter resembled a blue flame. The facets of the gems reflected the illumination from ancient light-torches, more than a dozen.

  Alucius immediately used his Talent to scan the chamber, but he was the only living being within it, although he could sense others farther away. He stepped out of the Table depression and studied the chamber more carefully.

  The light-torches were different. In fact, no one bracket was the same as any other. Nor were the shapes of the lights. Likewise, the clothes on the statues, while superficially identical, varied in fabric and weave, and even in the more subtle shadings, so that every shade of green and purple varied slightly from every other.

  The same was true of the ifrit statues. All twelve of those along the sides of the chamber were roughly a head taller than Alucius when he stood beside them, but their heights varied slightly. Each statue had the left arm by its side, and the right raised as if in a stiff-armed and fingers-pointed salute to the taller figure at the end of the chamber, but none of the arms were quite at the exact same angle as any other. There was no way to tell if the differences were merely the attempt not to have identical statues or inaccurate copying.

  Another sweep of the chamber with eyes and Talent revealed nothing besides the statues and the light-torches, and Alucius moved toward the stone door on the side of the chamber. This door was open and had been slid back, revealing a stone-walled corridor.

  He could sense the green of Talent at the end of the stone passageway—but how far beyond he could not tell. There were also others in that chamber. But Talent? Could someone have brought Wendra?

  He frowned. The Talent was greenish, but did not feel exactly the same. Yet…if she had been drugged or restrained…If it were not Wendra…the Talent was certainly not purple-tinged, not in the fashion of an ifrit.

  After a moment, he took a deep breath and eased into the stone corridor that stretched a good ten yards toward what had to be a screen wall beyond the ending archway. The corridor held the odor of burned oil, and he looked up. The entire stone roof was covered in black, as if lamps and torches had traversed the passageway for years, if not centuries. The walls were bare stone, and the floor had been recently swept, although the center of the stone paving was lower than the edges, an indication that many feet had traveled the passage over the years.

  As he neared the end of the passage, lighter from illumination beyond, he could see that, as in Hyalt, the archway at the end had edges lined in maroon ceramic tile, but the tiles looked older and the color had faded. Alucius could hear voices beyond the stone screen wall that blocked his view of the chamber beyond.

  After a slight hesitation, he called up his illusion of nothingness, moving to the archway, but not beyond. He used his Talent to scan the space beyond the wall screen. As in Hyalt, there was a square platform five yards by five yards beyond the wall screen. Beyond the platform extended a large cavernlike amphitheater.

  Unlike Hyalt, there were people on the platform. A man sat in a throne-like chair upon the dais, and on each side of him were two guards, armed with shortswords and rifles. The figure in the chair was not an ifrit, nor ifrit-possessed, but, from what Alucius could sense, all five were garbed in a fashion similar to the garments on the ifrit statues.

  In the amphitheater itself were but a handful of people, or so it seemed.

  The figure in the chair on the dais wore a black mask across his eyes, a mask with no slits for eyes. Was he blind? Or was the mask to show his ability to act without eyes.

  “Silence!” commanded the blind man.

  Instantly, the guards froze.

  Sensing a faint Talent-probe, Alucius eased back into the stone passageway that led back toward the Table chamber.

  “There is an intruder! In the sacred passage! Kill him!”

  Alucius turned and ran for the Table chamber. He had to get out of the passageway before they started firing, because the bullets would likely ricochet everywhere, and if they fired quickly and often enough, one could easily hit him where he wore no nightsilk.

  He scrambled into the Table depression, standing in the middle, trying to ignore both the statues and his pursuers. Concentrating, he tried to call up the sense of the portal, even as the sound of boots pounding down the narrow stone passageway grew louder and as shots flew out of the passageway toward him. He began to drop into the greenish black mistiness that lay beneath the purpled black of the ifrit tube.

  A dull lancelike blow slammed into his shoulder, followed by a second and a third…

  As he sank into the misty blackness, his whole side and upper body were a mixture of chill and burning pain. What was he doing? He had to think. What was it? Where was he trying to go? Back to Dereka…but it was so far…and there were no green and gold portals of the soarers…and he was getting so cold…so very cold…he struggled…trying to orient himself in the darkness…

  136

  The Hidden City, Corus

  Wendra stepped back from the mirror-portal. Agony and chill flowed from the black crystal on her finger. She looked at it, although she did not need to. Within the carrypack, Alendra whimpered, as if in pain.

  Wendra’s eyes flicked to the soarer. “Alucius needs me. He needs me now!”

  You have not learned enough.

  “He’s hurt and somewhere in a tube or a ley line. I can feel it. I’ll help him back. You can teach me more then. Unblock your portals. Please.”

  The soarer offered a fatalistic sense of a shrug. It is dangerous. If you fail, then all you know and love may be lost.

  “It doesn’t matter! Without both of us, everything is lost.” Wendra squared her shoulders. “Are you going to offer me some guidance?”

  You must use your thoughts to guide you, and to seek not the places marked with arrows, but those less obvious, those with hidden circles. He is near the circle that is…blue and maroon…as you would see it. The soarer seemed to blur. The portals are unblocked, but you must hasten.

/>   Without speaking, Wendra adjusted Alendra in the carrypack and stepped onto the mirrored surface. She began to drop into the misty black greenness.

  Behind her, the soarer sank to the floor, wings drooping, its gold and green iridescence fading away.

  137

  Alucius tried to concentrate…his thoughts questing for the hidden crimson gold portal, but all he could sense was the blue arrow and the dark green one, the two where the ifrits waited…and he knew…injured as he was, he would have little chance.

  Where was the crimson gold? He would have blinked if he could, but he sensed something, something green and gold…so distant…and seemingly receding from him. He struggled toward the green and gold, pressing, but he felt as though he made no progress, and all the time, greater and greater chill pressed in around him.

  Suddenly, a line of warmth touched him…and a gentle pressure…

  Was it a soarer? Had the green and gold been a portal opening?

  He could sense a presence, urging him, pressing him, guiding him, even somehow lending him strength as he struggled toward the green and gold portal that no longer receded. Still, the journey seemed endless.

  Then…the green and gold shattered into silver shards…

  Alucius tottered on shaky legs. He could feel dampness running down the side of his face, and there was an iron coppery taste in his mouth. Around him was amber, but he could not see it. He could only feel it, yet everything was amber.

  “You’re hurt,” a voice said.

  He knew he should have recognized the voice, but before he could put a name to the speaker, his legs trembled and gave way. A golden redness swept across him, and everything began to spin, swirling around him, faster and faster.

  Deep darkness washed over him, a darkness filled with fire, and purpled visions, and ifrits who stood back and laughed, and ifrit palaces whose walls contracted upon him.