Ancient Light

by Mary Gentle

  I said, ‘Pathrey, how long will you survive in Calil’s court?’

  That soft gaze was suddenly shrewd. The self-justification I’d identified in his tone vanished, replaced by something harder. He said, ‘I can talk to her. She strikes out, but – I’ve always had that privilege. And as she is now … shan’tai Christie, you can see it, surely? As she is now, there has to be someone.’

  Corazon put Molly Rachel’s wristlink into a pocket of her coveralls. She glanced round at that ill-lit chiruzeth hall, and finally fixed her gaze on Pathrey.

  ‘I’m bringing a troop in, to escort the body of Representative Rachel.’

  She did not add, And for my own protection. She didn’t have to.

  Pathrey looked doubtful. ‘K’ai Calil may not permit that.’

  ‘K’ai Calil should consider that a member of the PanOceania Company has been killed in her city,’ Cory said. Unconsciously she twisted the silver rings on her bony fingers. ‘K’ai Calil should also consider missing personnel. Rashid Akida and David Osaka. I want them now. Or K’ai Calil must consider very carefully the events at Reshebet and Quarth and the harbours in between.’

  The dark male made a hurried bow. I thought, Will you go running to Calil? Then Pathrey appeared to come to a decision. He muttered, ‘Shan’tai, I don’t know where your people are. They said they would take one of your ships-of-the-air –’ he deliberately used the Harantish paraphrase, not Sino-Anglic ‘– to rejoin you; but I saw no ships leave. That’s all I can tell you, shan’tai, and that’s more than I should.’

  He walked hurriedly and silently away towards that level’s steps. I began to move in the same direction. This is too close to that small room where Molly … and neither Cory nor I are safe in Kel Harantish now. As I walked with the Peace Force Commander towards the stairs, I said, ‘You’re not serious. There’s a qualitative difference between a strike to block harbours and a hi-tech attack on a city.’

  The lilac glow of chiruzeth made her angular face seem old or ill.

  ‘If I have to threaten to get Company personnel out, then I’ll threaten. If I have to take further action, I’ll take it. We can’t afford to be seen giving in to these tactics, Lynne, we can’t countenance the kidnapping of Company personnel!’

  ‘Is it possible there is a shuttle missing? On-world transport records are pretty careless at the best of times, so –’

  ‘It’s just possible,’ she grudgingly conceded.

  ‘Then there’s substantial doubt. You can’t take violent action.’

  She halted. I paused with her at the foot of the flight of stairs that led up into misty mirror-light. The hollow halls echoed to our footsteps, to our breathing. Some independent part of my mind registered the bareness, the chiruzeth walls carved in angles and curves; the rest of my concentration was on Corazon Mendez. I can try to talk your language, Commander. What I want to say is, You don’t know what you’re doing!

  The white-haired woman said, ‘The late Representative extended privileges to you, in respect of what authority you could wield. I’m sorry that I can no longer do that. Not in the present state of hostilities.’

  ‘I don’t accept that.’ The underground chill made me shiver. ‘The Company co-opted me as an expert on Carrick V. I’m best able to judge this situation. Until we find David Osaka, I’m technically head of the trade mission; I have superiority over the research grades –’

  ‘Not over Security.’

  I know a losing battle when I fight one. If I shut my eyes, I see the light in the throne-room, see it fall blue and lilac on those empty-socketed skulls. And Calil. How she stood barefoot in those black stains, sticky on the chiruzeth floor! Talk to me about psychopaths, Mendez.

  I said, ‘Let’s shelve that one for now, shall we? It’s Rashid we need to speak with primarily, I think you know why.’

  That touch of authoritarianism made her respond. She nodded, and then said, ‘You’d better talk to whoever you can, here. We need Rashid. We need to know if there has been a breakthrough by his research team.’ And then she drew an unconsciously deep breath. ‘Can you imagine Golden technology here in this settlement? That woman would have control of the Coast before you could say “Empire”.’

  We climbed two levels, beginning to come where Harantish people passed on unknown business, whispering as they saw offworlders. A familiar plump figure appeared. Pathrey Shanataru, returning, panting as he hurried to intercept us.

  ‘You may bring your escort –’ He turned from Cory to me. ‘The Empress wishes you to speak with her people – fifth level is a good place – ask what you will –’

  ‘Is there any point?’

  Pathrey straightened, getting his breath back, shaking the folds from his robe. Membrane slid back from his dark eyes. ‘Don’t think me stupid. We have one of your people here dead because we failed to keep her safe. You will hardly trust us now. And there must be trust, K’ai Calil needs s’aranthi trade, how else can we survive? So she sends you her Voice, to speak with her people.’

  Oh, I thought. Realizing only then that I must be speaking with the Voice of the Empress-in-Exile. He looked momentarily smug.

  ‘I’ll get Jamison down here,’ Corazon said.

  I left her, following Pathrey up the stairs to the next level. Then without any warning, I had to stop. I felt exhausted, disorientated by the shifts in geography and time zones; and for a moment I leaned a hand against the cold chiruzeth wall. I squinted up the stairwell at the stronger light above and thought quite unexpectedly, Molly’s dead.

  No more of that outspoken honesty, that I’ve envied even when it was me she hurt. I won’t see again that energy, that grin of hers, that unwarranted generosity; and why did I never tell her? To know her for so short a time, and most of that quarrelling. The risk that you’ll react with false memories to Witchbreed artifacts – that’s why I let you go north – but I may need your help. Why should she act as if I’d behaved like a friend to her?

  The dark angles and dusty light of that stairwell were blurred, blind, hidden by tears.

  ‘You have this in common with the true Witchbreed.’ Pathrey’s voice came clear, clinical almost. ‘Death for you is final, and no further meeting. Come, shan’tai.’

  I spent the next three hours on the fifth level of that block, speaking with Harantish Ortheans. Most of that group were science bloodlines, with some ritual knowledge of canal technology – and is it more than ritual? – and a few were traders, and one or two were of that tiny administration surrounding the Empress-in-Exile. It doesn’t have to be more than a tiny administration, I thought. Because they’re all of one mind. The unanimity is frightening.

  A thin, elderly male voiced the general opinion: ‘We’ve been at the mercy of the hiyeks and the Tower for too long. K’ai Calil will find a way for us to stand alone, free of them. Your s’aranthi machines will bring us food and water, and this is all we need. K’ai Calil makes a friend of you offworlders where K’ai Dannor would not. We follow her now.’

  Conscious of the hours ticking away, I said, ‘And the shan’tai Akida, the shan’tai Osaka; what of them?’

  The male looked at me with veiled eyes.

  ‘Who?’

  Pathrey Shanataru stepped forward to speak with him. I sat back on the metal bench, staring round that low-roofed chamber. Close enough to ground level for the walls to be stone, not chiruzeth. There were a few outside traders with this group of Harantish Ortheans – and as I thought that, I felt a touch on my arm.

  ‘Shan’tai Christie, give you greeting.’

  I almost exclaimed aloud. A narrow face, with brilliant green eyes, and a white mane shaven down to fur; last seen in Maherwa …

  ‘Shan’tai Annekt,’ I said, very quietly.

  He smiled. ‘So it is I who will give you the message. How strange a coincidence. No, don’t look startled, be as you were. This is much safer than meeting you secretly.’

  ‘“Message”?’ Thinking: I knew you were more than a Coast trad
er.

  ‘Word has gone with all the traders out of Kasabaarde this season, which I now pass on to you, so. “Shan’tai Christie, because what was lost may be found, come to the Brown Tower in Kasabaarde. Come because you remember, there was a city seen in mist and pearl”.’

  Annekt spoke by rote: the message was not in any of the Coast dialects, but in that thick Melkathi that they speak on the heath telestres. A city seen in mist and pearl – and what was lost may be found. Rashid, what did you find in Maherwa? Will you give Witchbreed again the use of ancient light? Christ, that can’t happen! Can it?

  ‘What does the Hexenmeister want with me?’

  ‘Shan’tai, it may be the Hexenmeister has need of a go-between to speak with offworlders. And I have heard rumour that you were in the Tower before?’

  There was naked curiosity on his face, but I was too confused to satisfy it, even had that been wise. The Tower is only archives. Only a dead record of the past, and records may lie. And I have fought the false memories that threatened to drown me, have fought them as much as I can, but if I go to the Tower, will I “remember” delusions too strong for a human mind to stand? And for all that she’s Hexenmeister now, Ruric was once traitor to the Hundred Thousand. To us all.

  Annekt’s green eyes veiled. For a moment I hated him, this casual stranger. The Tower cannot be ignored, even if it is only archives; archives may tell us what we need to know, and God knows we need all the help we can get. And there is more to it than that. If I go there, I will (I know) ask her, What did I see at Rakviri telestre? What did I experience with Calil? And will she have an answer?

  I said, ‘You can send word that I had the message.’

  Midday came and went unremarked. I felt the heat of it as I climbed back up to first level, and to the open roof, where Peace Force troops stood with the covered body of their Company Representative. As I climbed up on to the roof, I slid eyeshields into place. The dust-storms had died down. Harantish Ortheans were on the roofs, watching us curiously as we passed by; and there were others down at the harbour. I saw the whole panorama as our platform was winched down. There was no movement near the T&A excavations.

  With Molly gone, the impetus of the trade mission will just … run down. Until the Company sends another representative. It won’t be trade now, it’ll be peace-keeping, and a desperate scramble after Witchbreed technology. Unless I can hang on in there and keep the T&A going?

  The wooden platform grounded, scraping rock. Jamison’s troops disembarked, and rested the stretcher on the earth. That dark, shrouded shape. One thinks the ridiculous: can she breathe in there? Dust can’t hurt her now.

  Cory spoke to Pathrey Shanataru again. I took the opportunity, stepped back into the shadow of Harantish’s cliff-wall. Hoping that the interference had eased, I used my wristlink to call Doug Clifford.

  His image appeared. After a brief greeting, it assumed that prim expression that is Doug’s camouflage for self-satisfaction. ‘Lynne, I thought I might warn you of one thing. The WEBcasters are on their way to the Coast. They want to see the hiyek harbours. And Kel Harantish, I believe.’

  ‘Cory won’t give them transport,’ I objected.

  ‘They have shuttles through from Thierry’s World that they can use. Courtesy of the government.’

  You have to admire Douggie. I let it pass without comment. ‘I’ve bad news,’ I said; and sketched in the events of the past half day, telling him of David and Rashid’s disappearance, of Molly’s death. I saw his shock.

  ‘It’s a bad business –’ He glanced off-screen. ‘Lynne, I have to go. I’m taking a shuttle down to Keverilde telestre to talk with Jadur Anzhadi. Ah … it may be more urgent than even we thought. Satellites show an unusual concentration of shipping in the islands of the Kasabaarde Archipelago, and I grant you it’s the summer trading season, but –’

  ‘But we don’t know how many hiyek ships sneaked out under cover of that storm, before Cory’s strike. I’d better pass that on to her, I suppose.’

  The small image nodded. ‘I’ll call you at 19.00. Let me know immediately if there are developments where you are.’ He paused. ‘Molly Rachel … I can’t take that in. It’s a bad way to go.’

  ‘Are there any good ones? I’ll hear from you, Douggie.’

  The Peace Force troops picked up the stretcher and began to make their way cautiously across the rocky ground. Cory stood looking up, watching Pathrey’s platform being winched higher, squinting through dark eyeshields.

  ‘I’ve just had word from Ottoway. They’ve found Osaka and Akida –’ She ignored my exclamation. ‘– in the excavation site over there. I’ve had both of them put in cryogenic hibernation, the orbiter medics might be able to save them both. Rashid Akida’s in a bad way. Exposure, heat, dust …’

  ‘What the hell were they doing?’

  ‘Hiding? Running? We won’t know until they can speak. Lynne, I’m going to put a permanent troop here, garrison the T&A site. Someone has to watch these psychopaths.’

  ‘Is that wise?’

  Her hands, that had been twisting those silver rings, fell to her sides. Her voice went harsh. That sharp face came up: eyeshields glinted. ‘You don’t have a say in the matter. Lynne, I’m sorry, I have to worry about security now. We have an invasion on the northern continent; now we have the possibility of alien technology in use here. It’s a very volatile situation. The Force will have to clamp down until it settles.’

  And if I try to contact the Company home office, that will take twelve days. Until then … I can’t force her to accept my authority. All I can do is continue to preserve my independent status, until I can use it.

  I said, ‘I want the use of a YV9.’

  Corazon Mendez stared. ‘What use do you have for a shuttle?’

  ‘We must know about Golden science.’ I faced away from her. The rock shimmered in the heat. The sky swam. No daystars, not even on the horizon; this land is harsh as the surface of some forsaken moon. ‘Is it possible Rashid’s made a discovery – some synthesis of Earth and Witchbreed technology, perhaps?’

  ‘But a shuttle –’

  I don’t know if that was the first time I consciously admitted it. Did I give a tacit consent by continuing to use the Tower’s false memories as a guide? And now that there’s Calil in Harantish, I must know from Ruric Hexenmeister how far those dreams of ancient light are to be distrusted. I must ask Ruric if she’s lied to me again. Or, if not, what has reached out of the past to touch me.

  I said, ‘I’m going to Kasabaarde. To the Brown Tower.’

  PART FIVE

  26

  The Tower

  I landed outside Kasabaarde, and disembarked. The spire of the Rasrhe-y-Meluur jutted into the day-starred sky, a towering blue chiruzeth pylon gilded on its western side by the light of Carrick’s Star. Wisps of dust storms obscured its base. I stared up, craning my neck, thinking, Hard to believe it’s still the same day …

  Midsummer. Somewhere in the hours just past, a new T’An Suthai-Telestre will have been named in Tathcaer. Who? A Crown in the Hundred Thousand, an Empress in Kel Harantish … And yet it’s neither of them that are controlling events now. It’s the ordinary men and women of the hiyeks and the telestres. And is there still a truce in Melkathi?

  Interference again made comlink contact all but impossible. I lowered my wristlink, turned to seal the shuttle and put it on auto-lock. The road here is indistinguishable from wasteland. Kasabaarde’s Westgate is infrequently used, leading only to the small settlement L’Dui and the smaller Lu’Nathe. A hard, hot mile’s walk to the gate; it left me sweating.

  As I entered the city, I saw few people. I walked down translucent-floored avenues, hearing the rustle of canal water under my feet. Daystars paled above, in the late afternoon sky. Windvanes slowly turned. A few Ortheans in meshabi-robes passed. None spared a glance for a s’aranthi. The white dust worked down inside my ankle-boots, and the strong, beating heat of the sun made me dizzy. Easy to be lost in Kasabaard
e. I walked down avenues and alleys, keeping the sun always at my back. And then I came to an open space, and a high sandstone wall.

  Will there be guardians at the gate? I wondered, recalling the last time I’d been here. I had forgotten – I always do forget – that to come to the Brown Tower, one must pass through the inner city.

  When I came to a sandstone arch, a white-robed male waited in the shadow of the gate. He was not long past ashiren, a brown-skinned boy with a white mane shaven down his spine, and a del’ri-fibre robe belted at his narrow hips. He stood with his bare feet slightly apart, rising up on to his toes.

  ‘Go away,’ he said. ‘The inner city is closed.’

  Never in centuries – I gaped; recovered. ‘My business isn’t with the Order Houses, it’s with the Hexenmeister.’

  He pressed his lips together. I could see how his hands were shaking.

  ‘Go away. No s’aranthi can enter here. No one. The Order Houses are abandoned, there’s no use in going in.’

  ‘I must go to the Tower.’

  Oblivious, he said, ‘The Order Houses are all empty. The hiyeks rioted –’ Membrane slid back from his brown eyes, leaving a rim of white all around. The wild gaze saw me. ‘What did the Tower do to stop it? What did the Hexenmeister do to save us? The mob stripped us of everything and what did the Tower do?’

  ‘What could it have done?’

  His boy’s face became petulant. As his attention wandered again, he said, ‘The Hexenmeister could have stopped it; they would have obeyed …’

  He sat down in the dust, resting his back against the masonry of the arch. I saw, half-buried there, harur- blades. I was conscious now of the weight of the CAS-IV holster at my belt. When I was certain the young Orthean male no longer noticed my presence, I sidled under the arch and through into the inner city.

  Violence and vision. The vision gone, still the violence may remain …

  I began to walk, as silently as possible in the dust, nerves taut; seeing no movement, hearing no voice. My mouth was dry with tension. All through the alleys, between the dome-buildings, under the awnings, lay the debris of a mob’s passing. Overturned stone tables, broken del’ri-wood flutes, a bale of blue cloth spilling down steps like a river; broken crockery and glass. All I could hear was my pulse hammering.