"You just saw that woman get out of her sky coach," Gallen said. "She looked nice enough. Besides, what if there are vanquishers about? They won't know us."
Gallen searched for a way down the embankment and found a narrow footpath. Maggie hesitated, but didn't want to be left in the dark. They climbed down. The starlight was not enough to see by, and Maggie found herself feeling her way forward through the shadows with a degree of apprehension.
At the bottom of the valley was a lush orchard where some sweet-smelling, pungent fruit had fallen. Orick licked one. "This stuff is pretty good," he said, and he began eating.
Maggie gave the bear a minute, thinking that if the fruits were poisonous, the bear might start gagging, but Orick showed no sign of dying or taking sick.
"Didn't you say you smelled corn?" Gallen asked.
"Yeah, over there!" Orick pointed toward the city with his snout. "But why eat feathers when there's a chicken to be had?" he quoted an old proverb often spoken by bears. Obviously, he preferred this strange fruit.
Maggie cautiously followed Gallen toward the river. Halfway there, he stepped into some bushes and disturbed a buck that leapt up and bounded through the brush.
Maggie's heart began thumping.
The deer charged uphill toward Orick, and the bear bawled in startlement and ran downhill to pace nervously at Gallen's side.
They found a paved road by the river and followed it. Often through the trees Maggie glimpsed boats sailing the river or sky coaches rising from the city, yet the night remained quiet.
At last they found a field of ripening corn, the tassels shining silver-gold in the starlight. The corn stalks, at twelve feet, grew taller than any in County Morgan; the huge ears were sweet and full.
Maggie shucked an ear, knelt to eat, and Gallen followed.
Maggie was on her second ear, the sweet kernels dribbling down her chin, when Orick roared, "Spider! Run!"
The bear lunged away.
Maggie looked up. Towering above her, its belly just skimming the corn tassels, stood an enormous creature with six thin legs. The spider's body itself was a yard across, and Maggie could discern green glowing eyes. One enormous leg whipped out with blinding speed and knocked the cob from Maggie's hand, another lashed at her.
Gallen shouted and charged, grabbed one of the spider's legs and twisted, wrenching it free from its body.
The spider shrieked and tried to retreat, but Gallen caught another foreleg and wrenched it free.
The leg brushed against Maggie, striking her with a metallic ring. Maggie screamed and backed away. Suddenly Orick was back at her side, standing on his hind legs and roaring, raking the air with his claws.
The spider's torso became unbalanced, leaned forward precariously. In that split second, Gallen used the torn leg to club the spider between the eyes. It crashed to the ground, emitting a loud squeal.
Gallen jumped forward and began bludgeoning it. Orick pounced at the same time, holding it down. The two green lamps of its eyes kept shining, and Gallen had to pound at them for several moments before they cracked and the lights faded. Only then, when the lights were out, did Gallen stop beating the creature.
He stood over the broken monster's carcass, panting. An odd wailing sounded in the distance, a horn that rose and fell, rose and fell. Maggie turned a full circle, looking for more giant spiders. She wondered if this city, these fields, belonged to the giant spider, or maybe a family of spiders. She was in the magical realm of the sidhe now. Who knew what wonders lay in store?
The wailing continued. Orick growled, sniffed at the spider. He pricked his ears up and said, "Something's coming."
Maggie heard whispering movement among the cornstalks. Gallen took her hand, and they ran. They crossed the road and hid in the brush, watching as ten more enormous spiders came to patrol the perimeter of the field.
The spiders discovered their dead comrade, and one of them dragged the carcass off while the others raced through the field in a frenzy, hunting.
Gallen frowned. The corn might as well have been a hundred miles away. They wouldn't dare try to harvest any more from that field. "Come on," he whispered, pulling Maggie's arm. "Let's get out of here."
Orick crept ahead, using his night vision and keen sense of smell to scout until the spider-infested fields fell behind. The sky began to brighten, turning to a dull silver as it will before dawn.
A spur of the city sprawled across the river just ahead, and the three had to make a choice—forge on into the city, or return to hide in the wilderness.
Orick glanced back at Gallen and Maggie. The sun was rising quickly. Behind him, the colors of the city walls could be seen, vague swirls of green and purple, like a field of alfalfa in bloom. The walls had rounded contours. Tall trees grew in certain clearings, rising above the city. The forest obscured the road ahead.
"I'm going to sneak up on the highway," Gallen said, "just to take a look."
Maggie nodded. Gallen began climbing. As soon as he left, she knew she had to go up there and join him. She hurried to follow. Behind her Orick grumbled, "Damn you for trying to leave me behind!" He rushed after them.
As Maggie climbed onto the highway, it seemed that magic struck. Suddenly, two brilliant lavender suns climbed above the distant mountains, casting a complex network of shadows over the city. As their light touched the highway, it glowed a deep red as if it were made of rubies. The trees at the roadside hissed in the breeze, their long fronds of leaves swaying. Maggie caught the sound of distant music blowing on the wind.
Ahead a shadowed archway led into the city. Several men and women milled about near the arch, seating themselves at tables. The scents of roasting meat and fresh breads wafted from the arch.
"That's an inn," Maggie said. "I know an inn when I see it."
Maggie stood, not quite sure what she saw. Neither Gallen nor Orick dared move forward. Not all of the creatures stirring in that inn were human. A yellow man with enormous spindly limbs leaned his back against one wall near the entrance to the arch. He was bald and naked but for a burgundy loincloth. Maggie suspected that the man would stand over ten feet tall. Other things moving about in the shadowed inn looked like ivory-skinned children with enormous eyes and ears.
Yet there were plenty of normal people inside. Some wore robes in brilliant greens and blues and darkest black, others wore pants and vests of gold with silver headpieces. Yet others were dressed all in silver body armor.
Then the wind shifted and the music swelled with the clear calling of pipes, rumbling drums, and the mellow tones of instruments that Maggie had neither heard before nor imagined. The combination of music and scents and movement of the glittering people in the city called to her, and Maggie knew that if it were the last thing she did, she had to go.
They rushed to the gaping arch, and the yellow spidery man stood to greet them. "Welcome, welcome travelers!" he called in an odd accent. "Food for all travelers, food near the road. Heap a plate to your liking. Enter to eat!"
"How much do you charge for breakfast?" Gallen asked.
The tall man opened his mouth in surprise. "You must have traveled far indeed! Food is such a small thing. Here among the Fale, all eat for free. Please, come in."
They entered the inn, and the shadows felt cool on Maggie's face. The music was louder. Maggie cast her eyes about, searching for the band, but the music came from the ceiling, as if the living walls of the building had broken into song. Overhead, small gems shone from dark niches of the room, glowing like lamps that did not burn. In one corner of the inn, people were pulling trays from a stack and piling on cups and silverware. Gallen got in line, and they followed it to a narrow aisle where a row of bushes hid the sounds of a kitchen. Each person in front of them went to a small opening and ordered food, then stuck their tray into the opening. When they pulled the tray out, food was on it.
Gallen set his tray in, asked for rolls, fried potatoes, sausage, fresh raspberries, and milk. He pulled out his tray and had al
l that he'd asked for.
Maggie looked into the hole. In a well-lighted room on the other side, men made of gold and porcelain were cooking. Each man had six arms and moved so quickly that her eyes were baffled.
Maggie found her curiosity piqued. She would have stared for hours if more people hadn't gotten into line behind her. Instead, she set her tray into the slot and ordered breakfast. It felt odd, asking for food when she could not see the faces of the metal men. She realized that they must have had phenomenal hearing.
She got her food, and Orick stuck in his tray, ordered quadruple portions for himself. He pulled the tray out a moment later, carrying it in his teeth. He had muffins heaped on a pile of eggs, a string of sausages dangling over the tray, and the whole affair was smothered in honey.
They found an empty table and began to eat. Maggie could not help but watch the strangers around her. At a nearby table sat several people in silk tunics with swirling patterns of green and red and blues. They were talking vociferously and laughing. Beyond them, two other tables were filled with young men and women who wore pants and vests of gold, and silver crowns adorned their heads. Their skin was well-tanned, and they did not speak as they ate. Instead, they looked at each other knowingly and sometimes laughed as if a joke had been spoken.
Those in bright cloaks and those in gold seemed to be of separate castes. The small ivory-skinned men and women who hugged the shadows made up a third group. They wore no clothing at all. As they sat at their benches, the women's breasts were so small it was hard to distinguish sexes. And then there were the machines-a fourth caste, Maggie decided. From outside they had looked like warriors in armor, but now she saw that the silver men were only machines like those in the kitchens. They moved smoothly through the room, refilling mugs, cleaning tables.
Neither Gallen nor Orick had spoken since entering the building. Maggie wasn't sure what to say. Should they talk about the strangers? Discuss the wonders they beheld? Something warned her that neither would be prudent. She did not want to call attention to herself.
Maggie felt ignorant. The people here lived among so many marvels—walls that sang, machines that cooked and could fly. Compared to such people, she was a savage. Maggie had always had a quick wit, and for the first time in her life, she felt profoundly undereducated.
Halfway through breakfast, Maggie realized that people were watching them with furtive glances. She whispered to Gallen and Orick, "People are staring at us."
"Maybe we're not dressed to their liking," Gallen whispered.
"Or maybe I'm the only bear they've ever seen," Orick growled. "I can't smell another anywhere." Maggie was used to seeing bears in Tihrglas—they often would try to panhandle in town. She hadn't even noticed the absence of them here.
Gallen glanced around the room and said softly, "Orick, can you pick up Everynne's scent here? Even the slightest whiff?"
"Believe me," Orick answered, "if I could catch the slightest trace of that dear creature's fragrance, I'd pounce on her like a hound on a hare. She's nowhere near."
The folks at the nearest table left, affording Gallen, Maggie, and Orick a moment of privacy. "What now?" Gallen whispered. "Do we throw ourselves on the mercy of these townsmen? Do we look for work and try to scratch out a living? Or do we hunt for Everynne?"
"We can't announce ourselves," Maggie warned. "We left those vanquishers behind, but for all we know, they could be on our trail at this very moment. If we were to be going around telling everyone that we were strangers, we'd only attract attention. They might even turn us over to the vanquishers."
Orick said, "By the way folks are staring at me, they must know we're strangers. Yet they seem mighty hospitable. Free food for everyone! If these are Everynne's enemies, then maybe we've taken up with scoundrels."
"Hmmm," Gallen said. "You and Maggie are both right. The folks here seem nice enough, but the vanquishers might be hunting us. We should lie low. Still, there's more to this city than this one corner. Everynne and Veriasse may be here. I want to go look for them."
"And leave us alone?" Maggie asked.
"I'd be less conspicuous that way. It would only be for a bit," Gallen said. At that moment, Gallen caught a startled breath. Maggie followed his gaze.
A man stood in the doorway to the dining room, a man in a black robe with black gloves and tall black boots, a man with a face that shone like golden starlight. Gallen got up clumsily.
"What is it?" Maggie asked, taking Gallen's wrist.
"Nothing," Gallen said. "I thought I recognized someone."
Maggie looked at the silver-faced man. "Him? Where would you have met the likes of him before?"
"Not him," Gallen said. "The one I saw was dressed the same, but his skin shone lavender. Besides, the man I met was younger and thinner."
"Where did you meet him?" Orick asked.
"In Coille Sidhe. Last night, a man dressed like that saved my life." Gallen stretched. "I'll be back in a couple of hours—sooner, if I find Everynne." He left the dining room, passed the stranger, and moved into a well-lighted hall.
Maggie watched his back. Right, Gallen O'Day, go chase your mystery woman. I wish you both all the happiness.
The room seemed to close around Maggie. Every few moments, someone would bump her as they tried to get past. The room filled with diners, becoming cramped. She and Orick moved to a table that let her look out over the broad, muddy river. Green barn swallows were skimming over the river, dipping for drinks.
Maggie nibbled at her food and began to think that this place might be heaven. The weather was beautiful, the food delicious, and life here appeared to be simple.
But when Gallen had been gone for nearly an hour, the truth became more apparent: on the ruby road outside the city, six black dronons appeared. They wore odd shoes that let them glide along the road as swiftly as water striders. One of them skated to the inn. Maggie and Orick moved back against the wall, fearing that the creature was searching for them.
The inn became deathly quiet. The dronon was so wide that it could not easily pass between tables, but the gleaming black creature folded its wings and pulled itself slowly under the arch. Its head swayed from side to side as it moved. It held a long, black incendiary gun in one chitinous hand.
It stopped beside Maggie and Orick, and a single long feeler twisted up from beside its mouth. The feeler wrapped around Maggie's wrist. She stood abruptly, wanting to run, but found she was trapped between two tables with her back against the wall.
The dronon's feeler held her like a thick cord, binding her in case she should try to flee. Beneath the creature's mouth was an organ that looked like dozens of small, blunt fingers poised above the stretched membrane of a drum. The fingers began rhythmically tapping, creating an odd thrumming noise not unlike the sound that some deep-voiced locust might make. Yet the thrumming varied greatly in intensity and pitch. Maggie could distinguish words in that music. The dronon was speaking to her.
"You are not from this world. Where are you from?" the dronon demanded.
Maggie froze, not knowing how to answer. She pressed herself farther against the wall. The dronon's grip tightened, and it raised one arm overhead. She looked up—the arm was heavy, like the claw of a crab, and had a serrated edge. The dronon's tiny segmented hand had retracted, leaving a single large hooklike claw. If the dronon struck her, the arm would chop her in half like an axe. The dronon hissed, threatening to strike her into oblivion if she did not answer.
"You are not of this world. Where are you from?"
At a nearby table, the man dressed in black robes, the man with a golden face that glowed like starlight, stood and answered. "Great Lord, she is a Silent One from Pellarius!" He stepped forward. "She cannot speak. The singers there thought her voice lacked beauty, so they cut out her vocal cords and sterilized her so that she could not breed. Still, I have purchased her as a worker so that she might serve the greater glory of the dronon empire."
"What is her function?" the dronon ask
ed.
"She is an aberlain, highly skilled in installing genetic upgrades in the unborn."
"If she is an aberlain, where is her Guide?" The dronon's feeler began probing Maggie's scalp.
"She has been a class-two aberlain," the stranger said, "and is ready to be promoted to class one. I am having a new Guide created for her at this very moment."
"Where is her current Guide?" the dronon demanded.
"Here, in my pocket." The stranger pulled out a wide band of silver, a crown with small lights in it. He held it up for the dronon to see. The dronon warrior abruptly lowered its battle arm.
"May your work prosper the empire," the dronon said, addressing both Maggie and the stranger in the same breath. It regarded Orick for a moment, then hunched and dragged its massive body through the cafeteria. It turned at the hallway and disappeared into the deeper recesses of the building.
Maggie found herself shaking, dizzy. She could not move. Terror held her in place. The dronon's feeler had left a gray powder on her arm that burned slightly.
The people in the cafeteria resumed talking. Maggie sagged into her chair. The stranger with the golden face watched her unabashedly. For the past half hour, Maggie had noticed that he had been studying her and Orick with an intensity that others in the room could not match. She did not know how to thank him.
The stranger came to their table. He took her arm, and poured her mug of drinking water over the skin where the dronon had touched her, then began to sponge it with a cloth napkin. "I don't know where you are from," he whispered, "but you obviously know nothing of the dronon. I envy that." He sponged her face and scalp. "The first lesson you must learn is that the dronon's exoskeleton produces a weak acid. They come from a dry world, and the acid coating is an effective addition to their immune system. But if they touch you, you must wipe off the acid to avoid getting burned."
He set down the napkin and peered into her face, ignoring Orick. The stranger had a strong jaw, penetrating brown eyes. Up under his black hood, he wore a silver headdress, much like the one Everynne had worn. Long silver chains dangled from it with hundreds of small triangles, like some metallic wig. She wondered why he would hide this beautiful headdress under a cloak, but did not ask.
The Golden Queen - Book 1 of the Golden Queen Series Page 10
