Bright of the Sky

by Kay Kenyon

  "Ji Anzi," he said, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Quinn, sleeping next door. "I've been watching you. I think that you're loyal."

  A woman of few words, she watched him. He looked at the girl, thinking that she was prettier than he'd thought at first. She held herself with dignity. She was what a young man might call fine-looking, although Bei had ceased wondering about such things since his last wife had left him a thousand days ago. A good woman, and one who deserved better than life in a minoral's reach.

  Now Bei looked at Ji Anzi and wondered if she realized that she occupied a position of supreme importance: advisor and confidante of Titus Quinn. Bei had to know what their relationship was. Everything depended on it.

  He couldn't order her to do what he had in mind. She'd have to see the wisdom of it herself. "Ji Anzi," he said, "the question for you-and for all of us-is, who are we loyal to?" When she didn't answer, he said, "Well, who do you serve, girl?"

  "My uncle Yulin."

  "Ah." Well, now that was out of the way; she had said what she had to. "Yes, yes. But beyond family obligations?" She watched him still. "Let me ask this, then: How do you find Dal Shen? Is he worthy-worthy of your efforts?"

  "Yes."

  The reserve was seeming less of a virtue. "And are you committed to him, then?"

  "Yes."

  "There! That's just my point. How far will you go for his sake? Surely you've thought of that? At some point you'll have to choose between the interests of the Rose and interests of"-here he spread his hands, indicating the world-"all this."

  "Not if what he wants is his daughter."

  He paused. "And the secret of going to and from?" He looked at her with compassion. She was fully committed to the man, but she had no idea where that might lead.

  "As Dal Shen said, the Rose will discover it sometime anyway."

  Ah, so guileless. He wished he could let her stay that way. But no. "Anzi, listen to me. Right now you only see a man on a quest to learn some things and take back something that belongs to him. As he should! But freedom to go to and from ... that is a lever to move our world off its base. The correlates are the fulcrum." He sighed. She wasn't following-and she wasn't looking ahead.

  "I don't know what the future will bring to the Entire, Anzi, but I know that the door is open now-open for many changes. Titus wants the correlates to bargain with his masters for the safety of his family. But the possibilities go far beyond that. They could go far beyond." He looked toward the wall separating her sleeping chamber from Titus's, and lowered his voice further. "If he is won to our side."

  She frowned, and he plowed past her questions for the time being. "Listen to me. Titus doesn't love the Rose. The Rose has exploited him. He could be won over, Anzi, to the Entire."

  "Won over?" She watched him with sober eyes, with that reserve she kept around her like a fence. "What more do you want of him?"

  He paused, fingering his redstones. "I'm not sure yet. But it begins with his loyalty." Seeing the confusion on her face, he went on, "Anzi, pay attention. I'm telling you it matters where his heart lies. Even if we can't tell right now how it matters, it always matters what a great man thinks." He fixed her with a gaze. "Win him over. To the Entire. It always pulled on him-what he called the peace of the Entire. He was under its spell once. He loved it, Anzi. If he came to love it again, we'd have a chance to become a land beyond anything we've been before."

  "Aren't we enough right now?"

  Bel regarded her, wondering if she had a political bone in her body. "Per haps we are. Or perhaps there's more that we could be. Who knows, now that we'll have converse with the Rose?"

  "But ..." She hesitated.

  When nothing more came, he supplied: "You don't even know where your loyalties reside, much less his, eh?" He paused. "Because you heroworship him. Even love him?"

  She raised her chin. "No."

  "Well. Even if not. Your duty is to this land, this people, this culture. You'll know that, eventually. Things aren't better in the Rose."

  She looked up sharply at him. "That's what Dal Shen said, also."

  "Well, yes, I'm not surprised."

  They sat side by side, as the silence lengthened. He wished it hadn't come to this, that he must manipulate Titus. But Titus was the man who wanted everything, wanted power. All for a good cause, no doubt, in his own mind at least. And perhaps he would, in the end, be a boon to the Entire. But because Titus was only a representative of the Rose, and not typical of them, Bei must protect his people, his world.

  He disliked this next part, but he had to be certain of Titus, and Anzi could help. "One thing might ensure his loyalty, Anzi. Physical intimacy. The man is robust. You could bind him to you."

  She looked at him with contempt. Not the right timing for that suggestion, but when would he have another chance?

  At last she murmured, "What else could the Entire be, Su Bei, than the All?"

  He let the irony seep into his voice. "Well, it could be the Chalin All, for one thing, instead of the Tarig All." He saw that those considerations meant little to her. She was in love, and it blinded her. "Don't answer me now," Bei said. "Think about what I've said."

  She shook her head. "How can you ask me to betray him twice?"

  He paused, chagrined to be chastened by one so young. He found himself saying, in his own defense, "It's only betrayal if you don't love him."

  Anzi sat there, her face knotted in thought.

  He rose, bidding her a peaceful ebb. He'd probably destroyed her sleep, but for himself, he was finally ready for some.

  The reach blew cold and dark, sprouting luminous dust devils, as though they carried specks of lightning inside of them. Bei watched as five of his least-feeble students released the ropes of the sky bulb, freeing it to rise from its moorings and bear Dal Shen and Anzi away.

  He was both relieved and sad to see them go. Relieved because, since Titus's facial alterations, Bei had labored to keep Dolwa-Pan from seeing him again, fending off her requests to see Dal Shen, to whom she'd taken a liking. She'd have been surprised to find that he no longer looked familiar. But Bei was saddened too, because he feared that this might be the last time he ever saw Titus. He felt deep affection for him, and always had, even this new version: driven, haunted, and golden-eyed.

  Now Bei had sent him into more danger than Titus had planned on getting into in the first place. Now there was Lord Oventroe, and the chance the whole facade would collapse right there.

  He sighed, watching the dirigible wend down the minoral, shuddering from side to side in the wind and glowing from reflected auroras.

  God not looking at you, my boy, he thought.

  And Chiron not looking at you.

  Titus believed that whole business had been a sexual relationship. As it had. But not only that, at least for Chiron. Because the Lady of the Entire had loved Titus Quinn.

  Bei had watched with fascination as all this had played out before him. He had never believed that Tarig could love in the way of a man and a woman. But because of Chiron's possessiveness, he thought this had been the case.

  It was best that Titus not know. His self-recriminations were poisonous enough, without wondering if he had loved her. Well, all in the past now, and best forgotten.

  He tightened his jacket around him to keep the chill from settling into his bones. By heaven, Titus Quinn was heading to the one place that he should, at all costs, avoid. But it was his choice. Titus had chosen this path.

  Free of the cage, yes, insofar as any man was.

  Bei gathered his students, and they retreated from the storm to the quiet of their subterranean refuge.

  The dirigible was a small bubble in the distance, receding quickly. Anzi and Quinn had bid their pilot farewell at the train station a few miles from the opening to the minoral. The hut on the train platform served double duty as a station office and living quarters for the train steward, a young man named Jang with a heavily pockmarked face and wisps of beard that failed to cove
r his scars. Despite his position in charge of the station, Jang couldn't predict the arrival time of the train, and doubted it would come soon.

  But nothing could dampen Quinn's exhilaration. He had come away from the reach with everything he'd wanted. There had been a price to pay for it, as Bei said there would be: discovering the mistakes he'd made, the peace he'd made with his captors. Those mistakes made it even more urgent to get to Sydney. If she knew he'd risen high in the Ascendancy, she might think he'd forgotten about her, an almost unbearable notion. Therefore, he concentrated on his journey to find her.

  His successes so far made him optimistic and impatient. Why go to the Ascendancy for an alibi that would explain his journey to the Inyx? This ruse that Yulin had devised, of offering commissions to Inyx sentients-would it draw unnecessary attention to him rather than provide cover? Would the high prefect Cixi believe this excuse to travel to the Inyx sway? Why walk into the den of vipers? He and Anzi had only to journey overland to the River Nigh, and from there to the Sea of Arising in the core of this world, from which central point they could pick up the River once more, to travel down the primacy where the Inyx dwelled. This long journey was best begun now, before rumors festered-those rumors that might start with gardeners, godmen, or Gond.

  But he knew that he would not, despite the dangers, bypass the Ascendancy.

  Because of what Suzong had told him of the correlates; what Bei had told him of Lord Oventroe. The pull of this great prize was a magnet drawing him in, though he believed without hesitation that the power he would gain was not for himself. It was for peace, for security, and to never be ridden again. Yes, he would go to the bright city.

  Unfortunately, though, the train was late.

  The steward Jang said that, on the one hand, it might arrive in the third hour of Heart of Day, unless it was delayed, and then perhaps it might arrive in the fourth hour of Last of Day, if it was not later.

  By convention, days here were divided into eight phases with names such as Early Day, or Shadow Ebb, four of them considered "day" and four of them "ebb." The eighths were in turn divided into four hours-for a total of thirtytwo hours. Each hour was comprised of thirty-two short intervals, like minutes. But the Entire contained no clocks or timepieces, because every sentient possessed an instinctive recognition of absolute time. It was one of the uncanny small things that reminded Quinn that the Chalin, though they looked human, were designed by the Tarig. That didn't make them inhuman, he reasoned. But he did wonder what other modifications the Tarig had made in the template of Homo sapiens. When he'd asked Anzi, she seemed offended to discuss differences. To her it was important to be human, and he didn't argue.

  Now, at Prime of Day, they might have a long wait. The sky would brighten further into Heart of Day, and then begin its recessional into the ebb. The sky burned extravagantly, devouring its fuel-whatever that might be. The lords had at their command a vast power source. Yes, they commanded very much. But they didn't command Lord Oventroe, one of their own. Quinn made a point of collecting their weaknesses, but so far it was a short list.

  To avoid unwanted conversation, Anzi decided they would wait outside rather than in the cramped station office. On the train platform, Anzi settled herself on a bench. All Quinn could do was pace and watch for a train that came now and then. It was maddening not to know how much time was passing in the Rose. He could hope that Helice Maki had not judged it too long a delay; had not taken out her frustrations on Mateo. He hoped that he had time.

  The denizens of the Entire lived without rushing. If something was not accomplished today, there would be tomorrow. One might travel by beku. Or wait for a train. But where were the roads and vehicles that Chalin technology could easily provide? He asked Anzi this.

  "But Dal Shen," she responded, "the Entire is too vast for transport."

  "But you travel constantly. Why no roads?" He knew that air travel at most altitudes was not possible. The bright disrupted mechanisms, just as it precluded radio signals.

  "Roads? But to where, Dal Shen? We have vast regions of emptiness. Cities are clustered along train paths." She shrugged. "Also, we are not in such a hurry."

  But he thought it was convenient for the Tarig to limit travel as they saw fit. He said so, but Anzi countered: "We can go everywhere in the Entire. Eventually we get there, and the passage is safe."

  "The River Nigh," he said. The other key to transport here, besides the veils. So far he had no satisfactory explanation for the river that was not a river. Exotic matter, Anzi had said. Like the bright, its science was beyond her.

  The train steward brought them a meal on the small porch that sheltered them from the sky. As Quinn and Anzi ate, the steward lingered to talk. Had they heard, he asked, about the murders?

  Anzi kept eating, but asked what murders, looking shocked that such things could happen.

  The young man said four bodies had been found in shallow graves in the Shulen wielding. Now Quinn came fully alert. This was the region where Wen An had taken him that first day.

  Anzi kept her tone even, inquiring about the incident, and the steward relayed the story that the four men who died had been seen in the company of a woman scholar and a stranger. Quinn felt certain that the murdered men must have been his captors, the ones who had put him in a jar and brought him to Yulin. By Yulin's way of thinking, they would have had to be silenced.

  The steward's glance skimmed over Anzi and Quinn, in an artless assessment of this couple who traveled together and were possibly suspect.

  A silence fell as the young man watched them eat. A veldt mouse came to beg food, and the steward shooed it away. It fled in bounding leaps, waving a fan-shaped wedge at the end of its tail that served to dump excess heat.

  Jang turned back, looking hard at the man now eating his midday meal on the train platform. The fellow did indeed look a bit odd. For one thing, his hair was not the proper Chalin length. It was slicked back, but where there should have been a tail, it was short, with nothing protruding from under the hat. Furthermore, the few words the man had spoken to the lady were accented. Jang didn't know the man's sway, but it wasn't proper speech. So, he could easily be described as a stranger, yes.

  His pulse raced at the sudden thought: What if, by incredible fortune of heaven, the very murderers of the corpses were now standing before him? He, Jang, would have the honor of apprehending vow-breakers. It could be a glorious thing, and raise him up in the estimation of his harping mother who always said he would come to nothing because of sloth. And if they indeed had killed not just once, but four times! An almost unheard-of massacre in a sway that seldom saw violent offense against persons. Yes, not only his frowning mother, but the magister of the village, and perhaps the legate of the city of Po would have to take note of Jang, the steward.

  He tried not to stare. The girl was a beauty, with a slim body and fine, full lips that he could well imagine had pleasured the man she traveled with. Yes, though the man was her servant, he could sense their attraction for each other. Jang's instincts were honed in this matter, as he spent hundreds of days alone, hardly seeing a traveler, much less a female one as handsome as this one. Perhaps, to keep him silent, she would come with him into his quarters, and there perform for him the things he had imagined in his many days of boredom.

  He could hardly believe his fortune, and to keep his excitement from overpowering him, he made a show of looking into the distance as though to spy the train.

  He imagined himself standing before a lord and telling what he knew. That scene was less invigorating than the one he'd just conjured up. To speak in person to a lord-that would be a thrilling story to tell in the village. But he could feel himself shrivel at the prospect of that black Tarig gaze bearing down on him. And what if he were wrong? What was the penalty for false accusation? Oh, he'd seen the execution of a vow-breaker once, and though he was stimulated by the sight, in truth, the garroting had terrified him.

  The woman was speaking to him, and he turned to fa
ce her.

  She said sweetly, "What did the woman look like, the one traveling with the stranger? Did your sources say?"

  He liked it that she had said sources, as though, at this juncture on the veldt, someone like him might hear many things from travelers of importance. He stood taller, strutting over to her. "Yes, there were descriptions." He glanced at the servant man. It was said his face was full, not narrow like this man's. When Jang looked back at the girl, he realized with confusion that she, in particular, could not be the one described. For didn't they say that the woman with the stranger was old and that she wore the redstones of a scholar?

  "Perhaps," the girl said, "you could describe her for me, so that we can be watchful as we continue our journey."

  "Oh," Jang said, his great fantasy collapsing, "she was old and ugly." He added, looking at her chest, where her woman's form was nestled against her silks: "Not like you."

  She gave a charming smile. "Well, then, we shall be on guard against an ugly old woman and strange-looking man. You have been most helpful. I will tell my uncle-who is a man of influence-that this station is well tended."

  He recognized that she was dismissing him, but in such nice terms. Perhaps she was suggesting that her gratitude might extend as he had hoped. But no. Jang, you worthless fool. Why would a great lady lie with such as you? He looked at the woman's companion, and hoped that the man didn't enjoy those favors, either.

  He bowed low to the woman, and not as low to the man, and left to tend his tasks in the station hut, now eager to convey that he was too busy for further idle conversation.

  Quinn turned to face Anzi. She shook her head, trying to silence him, but he crouched close to her.

  "Master Yulin had them killed?"

  She took a deep breath, as though weary of saying something he should already know. "They saw you. Who knows what they might have said to others about you?" Anzi looked at him squarely. "Dal Shen, I know this makes you unhappy. But now we have further problems, besides unfortunate deaths."