Ears were preachers and confessors all in one. They could not tell their secrets, or they would have no value. Worse, they might be hunted down for the very thing that made them such coveted possessions among the nobility. Instant communications could easily be used to augment rebellious thought. To coordinate attacks.
No, the Ears always walked a razor's edge between favor and extermination. So no Ear wanted to tip the balance by reminding those in power that they not only passed secrets along, but in some cases also heard them and held them close.
So why was it that Erlong found himself in front of this door? Why was it that he had raised his fist to knock?
Because it's treason. Or at least the seeds. Because I have to warn the Chancellor.
Because he'll make me rich.
He had to admit that it was the last that held the greatest appeal. Ears were well-compensated, but Erlong had lost a lot of money at the Dogfights of late. He owed quite a bit, in fact, to people who made the Guild's enforcers seem like schoolchildren.
He knocked.
For a moment he thought he heard a young voice. Somewhat familiar in tone – he had a good ear for voices – but then the Chancellor's deep voice sounded. "Come."
He went in.
The Chancellor's office was said to be more beautiful even than the Emperor's, and Erlong could believe it. One entire wall was covered with books – any one of them probably worth enough to buy and sell an entire village. The other wall held rows of weapons, some commonplace, others so exotic as to be barely recognizable as instruments of death.
The last wall held a giant window that looked out over the castle garden. A tree rustled just outside, tall branches almost level with the glass that was worth a duke's ransom.
"What is it?" said the Chancellor. He didn't sound angry, for which Erlong was grateful. But he didn't sound particularly happy, either.
Erlong got to the point: "I have some information that I think your Lordship would be interested in."
The Chancellor stared at him. "Well?" he finally said. "What is it?"
Erlong looked down. "Well, Lord… that is…." He looked back up. "I'm sure you know that it's completely against the rules for an Ear to reveal details of his conversations to anyone."
The Chancellor stared at him with an odd expression, then said, slowly, "How much?"
Erlong shrugged. "I wouldn't presume to haggle with your Lordship," he said. "I would only say that the information is of great enough import that, should the Guild of Hearing discover my… ahem… indiscretion, that I would never work again. And then how would I live?" He spread his fingers, the image of a victim of unkind circumstance.
The Chancellor spoke almost before he finished. "One thousand Imperials," he said.
Erlong had to concentrate to keep from jumping. That was ten times more than he would make in his lifetime.
But he forced a rueful smile to his face. "Your Lordship is most generous. Of course, the chances of my working being in such danger…."
The Chancellor grinned. It was a wolfish grin, and for a moment Erlong felt sure he had overstepped himself. "Twelve hundred," said the Chancellor.
Erlong let the smile that had been threatening to appear finally explode to the surface. "Your Lordship is kind above all others," he said.
The Chancellor waved. "Yes, yes. Tell me what this news is that is of such great import."
Erlong did. Telling of Armor's calls to his wife. Telling of the man's doubts. His intention to investigate his orders.
The Chancellor nodded. When Erlong was done he said, "Does anyone else know of this?"
Erlong was offended. "I know how to be discrete, your Lordship."
"Good."
The Chancellor held out a hand. Erlong took a step forward, mind already filling with the things he would buy with his new fortune.
He took two steps before he realized the hand was empty.
Then, suddenly, it wasn't. One of the weapons flew off the wall and into the Chancellor's hand. The weapon was a morning star: a heavy club with a long spike extending from the rounded head, an iron band with more spikes encircling it a few inches from the top.
"My Lord?" said Erlong. He was thoroughly confused for a moment. Then a creeping fear tingled in his bones. He turned to the door.
The Chancellor crooked a finger. Erlong heard the door lock.
He turned back to the Chancellor… and then felt himself jerked forward. In one second, and without a sound, he was kneeling before the bear of a man.
"How did –"
The Chancellor brought the morning star down on his head, and Erlong's last thought was that he really should have followed Guild guidelines.
Then he knew nothing, and had no thoughts at all.
4
The air-car stopped near dawn. It dropped to the ground just outside a small cathedral, where Father Akiro got out.
"Is this where the Cursed Ones –" began Sword.
"Oh, no," he said. "That's a ways off yet."
"But you said that was the next place we were going."
Father Akiro smiled, and she thought she saw where Brother Scieran had gotten the twinkle in his eyes. "I am afraid I am not so holy that I don't lie occasionally."
"So you're not coming with us?"
"No. My flock needs me here. But I will come to you if I am needed. Just don't let my student talk to you too much." He leaned in close. "Stupidity is a contagious disease, you know. And Scieran is very, very, very ill."
Brother Scieran growled. Then he and Father Akiro held one another in a tight embrace, and whispered in one another's ears. Sword thought she heard the words "royal" and "Second Gift" more than once, but other than that the men's whispered conference was a private one.
When Father Akiro finally withdrew and hobbled away toward the cathedral, Brother Scieran had tears shining in his eyes.
"Old fool," he whispered. And wiped his eyes.
The air-car took off again. They traveled through the day. A few times they saw other air-cars, marked with the crests of noble houses, but gave them wide berths. And since their own air-car was marked as belonging to the Army, none of the other air-cars seemed interested in investigating them.
Sword slept part of the way. She wouldn't have thought that possible to do, but she was exhausted from the events of the previous several days. And beside that, she felt… lighter somehow. As though she had been carrying around a burden she had not even known about, and now it had been lifted from her shoulders.
When she woke, dark was falling again. Cloud and Wind were nowhere to be seen, presumably they were in the front cabin with Arrow – either sleeping or piloting the air-car, she didn't know which.
"Ah, you're awake." Brother Scieran produced a small bundle from the same box that had held her weapons. He handed it over. Inside were some bread, an apple, and some dried meat.
"Simple fare," he said apologetically.
"I ate rot for most of my life," she said, and fell to the food with relish. Halfway through the meal she wondered where they were, where they could possibly have traveled to after so far in the air-car, and looked out the window.
Panic took hold of her when she saw where they were: nowhere.
There was no land in sight. No trace of any of the mountains of Ansborn. Just endless sky all around. Above, the moon shone through the darkness, a perfect orb like the eye of the Gods, staring down at them and waiting to smite. And below….
She felt like throwing up. The clouds were so close the air-car nearly touched them. And if they went in…..
Then a thought struck her. So much of what she had been told had turned out to be a lie. What if this was, too? What if the prohibition against climbing down the mountain was just one more way for the Emperor – or the Chancellor – to maintain control?
"Where are we?" she said. Her voice trembled. "Are we… are we going down?"
"Gods, no," said Brother Scieran. He squinted at her. "Don't you know what happens to people wh
o descend below the clouds, or who travel too far from Ansborn?"
She nodded. "But I just… I wondered…." Her voice drifted away, swallowed by the silence of the night.
Brother Scieran nodded. "No, what they told you was true enough. There's something that stops any from climbing down, from going too far by sky. Any that try it end up back on the mountains, only without their lives." He looked at the clouds, lips pursed and a look of concentration on his face. "I'd give much to know what's down there. Nothing friendly, that's sure."
"Then what are we doing here?" she asked.
"Told you," he said. "We're going to our headquarters."
"It's out here?"
Brother Scieran laughed, loud and long. "Where would it be out here, girl?" He wiped his eyes. "No, it's not 'out here,' but we'd rather not have people following us to where it is, either. So we fly out as far as allowed by whatever damnable creatures keep us locked atop the mountain, then when we're sure no one follows, we turn to – ah, see there?" He cut himself off, pointing out one of the windows.
Sword looked. She saw something in the distance: a gray shadow at first, then it gradually solidified into the shape of one of the mountains of Ansborn. Only they were so low down its face that she knew they were well below the level of the side-farms, or even the air holes the miners drilled in the sides of the mountain. Still barely above the level of the clouds, so close that any sane person would fear to be here.
But we're not sane, are we? We're rebels against the Emperor of the world. Against the Empire that has stood for a thousand years.
She started with the realization that she had lumped herself into that group. We're not sane, are we?
Had she joined so fast? Father Akiro certainly believed she had.
And a large part of her knew he was right. Knew that her allegiance to the Emperor had been based on him saving her from the kennels, and then based on Armor and on the fact that she believed she was doing good.
Killing for the public good. Murdering to save the Emperor.
Armor, how could you have lied to me like that?
The mountain came ever closer, finally so massive that it was all that could be seen from either side of the air-car. And as it did Sword made out a fissure in the side of the rocky face. A slim-looking crack at first, but as they closed in on it she saw that it was, in fact, wider than five or six air-cars abreast.
They went in.
The crack became a tunnel, and though it was wide enough to hold numerous air-cars at first, it quickly narrowed.
"Who's piloting this?" said Sword.
"Probably Arrow. He has the best eye," said Brother Scieran. He sounded somewhat nervous, which did not help Sword feel any better about how close they were to the walls.
And still closer the walls fell, until she could almost hear them touching the sides of the balloon at the top of the air-car. She imagined them rasping along the sides of the balloon, loose dirt and small rocks being shaken away from the sides of a crack they had clung to for millenia.
But if the tunnel came any closer… there was no way the air-car would survive. No way they could get through.
Then, just as it seemed they must be caught, or the air-car must be crushed, the tunnel widened. Sword heard Brother Scieran exhale, and realized that she, too, had been holding her breath. She also realized that the tunnel – which had been growing dimmer as they drew away from the weak light thrown by the moon – was now beginning to lighten.
After traveling a few more feet, she saw why: glo-globes hung every few feet in the tunnel. They were haphazardly shaped, mismatched. As though no two had been purchased together, but had been brought in one at a time to give light to this place.
The air-car set down with the gentlest of bumps – if Arrow was the one piloting, then he really did have a good eye.
Wind, Cloud, and Arrow came out of the forward cabin. "How was your trip?" asked Arrow. He said it around clenched teeth, the words starkly at odds with his expression. Sword wondered if Brother Scieran had given him a talking-to while she was asleep.
Regardless, she decided to take the words at face value. "It was fine, thank you," she said. "You are an amazing pilot."
Arrow looked surprised at that. "Well… I… uh, thank you," he said. He looked around, suddenly aware that everyone else was watching him. "What?" he glared at Cloud. "She's right. I am an amazing pilot."
Cloud just shrugged. Wind put on her silver mask, but Sword saw her shoulders shaking and got the distinct impression that the woman was laughing behind it.
"Let's go," said Brother Scieran. "Before this mutual admiration gets someone killed."
He opened the door to the air-car.
And came face-to-face with himself.
Sword almost rubbed her eyes. The man waiting for them outside the air-car wasn't similar-looking, he wasn't even a twin brother. He was Brother Scieran, down to the dented sickle and the stray hairs of the priest's beard.
Brother Scieran didn't seem surprised to meet his doppleganger. He just shook his head. "Really, Smoke? Do you think you'll ever grow tired of this joke?"
"Probably not," said the second Brother Scieran. Then his outline seemed to glow, and when it dimmed the twin was gone and in his place a second Arrow stood. "Besides, you're all such magnificent-looking specimens."
Arrow aimed his rifle. "I wonder what I look like with a hole in my head."
"Well, the joke would end with a bang." The other-Arrow shimmered, and this time when the glow faded it left behind a well-muscled man, perhaps twenty-five Turns, with a close-cut head of thick black hair and eyebrows so bushy they seemed to have a life of their own. He wore no shirt, so Sword could see that he was covered in tattoos she recognized as those given to prisoners in the State of Fear. But to have that many… she shook her head. He would have had to have spent his entire life in prison.
He noticed her. "Who's the girl?" he asked. Then, suddenly, Sword was staring at herself, complete with the scar on her face and twin blades at her belt. Her hands drifted to the hilts of her katana and wakizashi, and her mirror's hands did the same.
"I wouldn't," said Brother Scieran.
"Good?" she heard her own voice say.
"She's a Blessed One," said Arrow.
The mirror shimmered, and the muscular man returned. He was scowling. "A Blessed One? And you brought her here? Why not just light a fire on the side of the mountain and send the Chancellor a map?"
"Father Akiro vouched for her," said Brother Scieran.
"Was this why you went off? Were you planning this?" asked the man – Smoke, he had been called.
"No, we went to save Eva, then to stop at the village to help them. This one was…." Brother Scieran considered his words. "A lucky accident."
Smoke rolled his eyes. He flexed his massive biceps, as though looking for something to crush. Or perhaps as though he had already found something.
Then he was scowling at Sword again. "So Akiro vouched for you, eh? Well, he was always too soft."
"He vouched for you," said Brother Scieran.
"My point exactly," said Smoke. He turned away. "Come on," he said.
Brother Scieran followed him. So did Arrow, Cloud, and Wind. Sword brought up the rear. It seemed no one was worried about her taking the air-car and escaping.
I couldn't if I wanted to. Not through that tunnel.
But she didn't think that was why they turned their backs on her. She thought… she thought they trusted her. Even Arrow, who was still angry with her – and rightly so, she thought. Even he believed she was with them, in both senses of the word.
Am I?
She thought she was.
5
The cavern was huge, and it was beautiful. Stalactites clung to the ceiling, some dozens of rods in length, many of them slick with water that dripped down them and then fell like tears to pools below. Stalagmites reached up like jutting teeth from the ground, many of them also shining with the water that dropped from above.
<
br /> The water caught the light of the dozens of glo-globes all around and shattered it into millions of jeweled shards that danced through the cavern. What could have been cold and empty and dead somehow became warm and full of life.
There were several other air-cars in the cavern, each hovering in silence a few feet above areas that had been cleared of stalagmites. They, along with the glo-globes, were the only proof that people had come to this place. But for some reason they didn't seem like intrusions but rather like complementary additions; as though the cavern had been created with just this purpose in mind.
Beautiful.
Sword nearly tripped several times, not paying attention to where she was walking but rather looking around at the place that had been transformed to a crystalline miracle by the combination of humanity and nature. The last time, she did trip, and it was only Arrow's arms that kept her from falling headfirst into a huge puddle.
"Careful," he said. And for a moment the anger was gone from his face. For that instant his expression – rounded by a permanent scowl – lengthened into something akin to a smile. "You've got to watch what you're doing."
Then he seemed to realize what he was doing – and who he was doing it with. He put her back on her feet. Roughly. "Come on," he said in a gruff voice.
She came. This time watching where she walked, somehow certain that if she tripped again Arrow would do nothing but watch her fall. Perhaps laugh.
They threaded their way through the stalagmites, then Sword came around one particularly large column of rock and gasped.
The first thing that drew her attention was the waterfall. It rushed in at the far end of the cavern, from a rift in the ceiling far above. The water poured in a steady stream, with a sound she now realized she had been hearing for some time, though it had come on so gradually she hadn't recognized it until now.
The waterfall pounded down with white surges of surf and foam into an underground lake, barely big enough to be called such but still large enough to comfortably hold the several dozen tents along its length. In the middle of the lake there was a swirling whirlpool, which she guessed was the reason that the lake didn't simply overflow and fill the entire cavern.
The Sword Chronicles: Child of the Empire Page 18
