The High Lord's aircar was guided to a pad atop an eighty-story building near the outskirts of Sharia'a. Jackie hadn't been sure what to expect, but she knew it wasn't going to be the low, bone-sheathed towers Hesya had shown her in the vision: That was Shr'e'a, pre-Unification, more than eight thousand years ago. It was ancient history, like a vid or a sim that had been created for her benefit . . . or to scare her.
She had no doubt that the vision of Shr'e'a had been accurate in every detail, though even the most learned scholar at Sanctuary couldn't know that for sure.
The modern Sharia'a was home to more than ten million. Almost one in twenty were human, but the vast majority were People. The architecture was modern and made few concessions to flightlessness: no railings on platforms, open-air lifts on the outside of buildings, access doors eights of floors above ground level. Though the airspace was empty where the High Lord's transport had flown, Jackie could see People (and humans with flight-belts or airbikes) sharing the air with vehicles of all kinds.
With the reality of Sharia'a staring her in the face, the vision of the ancient city seemed like a remote dream.
Why am I here? she thought to herself, as they descended to the platform. Sergei, she asked the gyaryu: Why are we here?
We go where you go, Sergei answered from within the sword. You said that you were looking for a clue to your next flight.
This isn't Shr'e'a. I won't find it here.
If you were convinced of that, Sergei answered, you would not have come. There might be a sSurch'a waiting for you here.
Did you ever come here?
si S'reth and I visited here when he was Speaker for the Young Ones. She felt the slightest twinge of emotion as Sergei said this: a shadow discussing a shade.
"The High Lord honors us," the mayor of Sharia'a said, extending his wings in honorific greeting. After a suitable pause, he bowed toward Jackie, arranging his wings in a posture of honor to esLi.
"I am pleased to be in the City of Warriors," hi Sa'a answered. The delegation from the city inclined their wings, as one, to the compliment. "My companions and I would be honored to be shown the wonders of your city."
Further pleasantries were exchanged. The Sharia'a'i made arrangements for the High Lord's party: They provided Jackie and the two other humans with airbikes, permitting the group to travel together. Presently, all were airborne, with the mayor in the lead. Jackie noted the presence of eleven guards in the air around them, their claws near their sides, in reach of their chya'i.
se Jackie— Sergei's voice came from within the gyaryu as they flew. Take care.
What's up?
An esGa'uYe, he answered. Very close by.
She could feel it, too: It was subtle, masked somewhat by the hsi of the People and humans nearby.
Jackie guided her airbike near the High Lord.
"hi Sa'a—"
"I know," she said quietly, neither raising her voice nor altering the position of her wings. "You can feel him as well."
"It's not Hesya or Sharnu." Jackie was fairly sure of this: She assumed the aura of their hsi would be obvious by now.
"I know this one," Sa'a said. "I have . . . encountered him before."
Jackie's hand was on the hilt of her sword. Several of the escorts immediately moved closer, perhaps sensing danger. Sa'a's wings moved subtly, and they retreated a bit but remained closer than they had been.
"Where?" Jackie asked her.
"On the Plane of Sleep." Somehow, it seemed logical. "He was the one at the Stone of Remembrance. He was waiting for us when we contacted si S'reth. Now we are at the place of seLi'e'Yan and he appears again."
"Maybe we should get out of here. I realize that this could be awkward—"
"I will take the warrior's part, se Jackie, as I told you. There is no honor in retreating. If the Eight Winds blow me to esLi's Golden Circle, it is as it must be."
When Jackie tried to interrupt, she inclined her wings. "We must learn why this esGa'uYe is here. Perhaps he has a message of some sort."
"Perhaps the message is, 'I want you dead,'" said Jackie.
"I leave it to you to prevent this from happening." The High Lord looked away and flew onward.
The feeling was much stronger when they reached the central square. The party landed near the center, which was separated from the ground walkways by a low fence. Jackie took her usual position behind and to the right of the High Lord, a wingspan away, the gyaryu unsheathed and in her hands, but pointed toward the ground at an angle.
A series of ritual exchanges were given and received by the High Lord in the Highspeech. Jackie recognized the story: It was the common version of seLi'e'Yan—with but one villain and the usual outcome.
The central square seemed disturbingly familar. Even with hundreds of the People around her, she felt alone. The orange sun beat down from a cloudless sky; dust swirled in the breeze. The ritual phrases spoken by the city officials of Sharia'a and the High Lord seemed distant, as if they were happening somewhere else and she was only a remote spectator.
Abruptly, beyond the square, she could feel something terribly wrong that twisted her insides.
You wanted to know, a voice said in her head.
The dust began to swirl around her, though it didn't seem to be affecting anyone else in the party.
You wanted to know.
The gyaryu was in her hands but the dust was stinging her eyes and clouding her vision. The scene was changing: Instead of a crowded city square, she could see a hill strewn with bodies—vuhls, many of them dismembered or maimed, a bright sun reflecting off their exoskeletons. In the midst of this scene of destruction was a man dressed in some sort of battle-armor; he seemed calm and detached as if the carnage didn't affect him at all.
Next to him stood Ch'en'ya, her chya in her hands, her wings showing something like satisfaction—recognition of a task well done. She was older, fully grown, but clearly identifiable. She did not seem surprised by the death all around her. It wasn't clear that she was even interested.
The man's gaze was directed away from Jackie, but he began, slowly, to turn to face her. His expression held enGa'e'Li, the Strength of Madness. She'd seen it once before: in the eyes of Owen Garrett. The stranger's anger seemed barely leashed, as if he were ready to turn it upon her.
He extended his hand toward her as he looked directly at where she was standing: a signal, a command or perhaps an invitation—
You wanted to know, the voice said again. It trailed off into a laugh—
"se Jackie." The vision had disappeared. Sa'a's face was before her; her wings were held in a position conveying concern.
Jackie looked at her hands and the scabbard of the gyaryu. The sword was sheathed. The ceremony seemed to be over; four zor dignitaries stood with Sa'a, all communicating concern.
"You have had a sSurch'a," Sa'a said. "What did you see?"
"The Destroyer," Jackie answered quietly, hoping that only Sa'a could hear her. "I've seen the Destroyer. The esGa'uYe showed him to me."
"You saw the daughter of si Ch'k'te," the High Lord said. She held a fragile goblet with h'geRu in it. They were in the aircar, a few hundred kilometers away from Sharia'a.
"She was with him."
"The Destroyer."
"I believe so. She was next to him, part of his entourage. She was older."
"A sSurch'a of the future, then. esLi has given you an indication of what is to come."
"Or esGa'u—" Sa'a's wings moved to a posture of honor to esLi. "Or the Deceiver has given me a vision for his own purposes."
"That is a possibility. But an esGa'uYe led you to Ch'en'ya in the first instance, correct? After the battle at Josephson, you received the coordinates that led you to the place where si Th'an'ya's ship crashed."
"Then this is just a continuation of that?"
"This," Sa'a said, setting the goblet aside and shifting positions on her perch, "is likely more than simply a sSurch'a: It is a shNa'es'ri, a crossroads. 'A step away—
or a step forward.' It is up to you to choose."
Jackie was up out of her seat and took two steps toward the High Lord, who was reaching for her hi'chya. She made herself stop, keeping her hands at her sides. Sa'a, alarmed, seemed to be forcing herself to relax as well.
"What did you say?" Jackie asked.
"A shNa'es'ri," Sa'a repeated. "I believe that this is a crossroads, and you will have to decide which flight to take."
"No," Jackie said. "The part about 'a step away—or a step forward.'"
"A quote. From 'The Flight Over Mountains.' I apologize—it came to mind."
"Someone said that to me. At the base of the Perilous Stair, before I went to Center. He—it—told me that I would have to make the journey alone. That I would have to climb the Perilous Stair alone."
Sa'a did not answer.
"I assumed that I was climbing the Perilous Stair when I went to Center, to get this." She placed her hand on the gyaryu. "I assumed that when Stone arranged for me to get it, I'd reached the Fortress."
Sa'a's wing-position changed again. She swirled them through a complex pattern, one Jackie had never seen before. It felt as if a breeze was suddenly blowing against her, almost sending her off-balance.
"No," Sa'a whispered. "You have not reached the Fortress, and pray to esLi that you never do."
"I'm still on the Stair." Jackie looked down at her hands, and then back at Sa'a. "I'm still on the Perilous Stair."
On the way to Zor'a, Jackie had had a discussion with Ch'en'ya that she'd dismissed as mere anger. Now, having seen what the esGa'uYe had to show her, she considered it in a different light.
"Why are we going to Zor'a?" Ch'en'ya had asked, looking out through the bridge viewscreen at the darkness of jump. It was a quiet watch; Pyotr Ngo was in the pilot's seat, ignoring Jackie and their zor passenger.
"We are returning to Zor'a to train you as a Sensitive."
"What will the purpose of this training be?"
"To fight the aliens and protect the fleet. Believe me, we need all the help we can get."
"And we will kill all of the aliens we meet."
"That isn't necessary." Jackie looked at the young zor: Every line in her body, every articulation in her wings, connoted rage. "We may have to fight them with anger, but it's not necessary that we seek to kill them all."
"No, you are wrong. We must fight them with hatred. Not just anger: hatred. And what is hatred, se Gyaryu'har, but the desire for the destruction of the enemy?"
"There's nothing to be gained by seeking destruction and nothing else. Nothing."
"There is everything to be gained! This is 'The Flight Over Mountains'—it is about the survival of the Light." Her wings formed a posture of reverence, and then shifted to something else—enGa'e'Li, the Strength of Madness.
"Look. We fought the People for sixty years because we didn't understand. Isn't it possible that we don't understand them? Couldn't we be making some sort of horrible mistake?"
"There is no mistake." Ch'en'ya looked-at Jackie, her hands clenched at her sides. "esGa'u slew my father and led my mother to her own death. You have climbed the Perilous Stair and cannot see the hand of the Deceiver?"
"I know the whole story, se Ch'en'ya. I have been through the entire tale. I have pierced the Icewall, goddamn it! I see the hand—but not the heart. The vuhls are not esGa'uYal. They are esHara'y."
"Pah." She looked away again. "You are trapped in Ur'ta leHssa. You cannot look up."
Now it was Jackie's turn to be angry.
"I've seen the Valley and returned. You don't know anything but rhetoric. What do you wish—to challenge me?"
A tiny movement toward her chya. Jackie's hands didn't move: If Ch'en'ya was ready to draw a sword against her, she'd deal with it then.
"Why did you not kill me when you found me?" Ch'en'ya asked.
"I thought you might grow to be a warrior."
"I see. How am I not a warrior now?" Her hands relaxed ever so slightly. Jackie still tried her best not to move.
Pyotr was now watching the scene, Jackie noticed. He hadn't said anything, and even if he didn't know the High-speech, he seemed to have an idea of what the conversation was about.
"A warrior knows Inner Peace," Jackie stated.
"I see. Do you know it, then? Or are you excused, as a na Zora'e?" Ch'en'ya had not let go of a single gram of anger.
"Why do you think I don't know Inner Peace?"
"A Sensitive's Sight," she answered sarcastically.
"Don't give me that. The Deceiver can confuse the High Lord. In esHu'ur's time, hi'i Sse'e realized that the People had been pulled into a war—by the Deceiver."
"This is different," Ch'en'ya protested.
"No. This is the same. The Deceiver wanted humans and the People to fight each other. The Deceiver wants you and me to fight each other as well. I won't have it."
Jackie turned her back on Ch'en'ya then, and stalked off the bridge. She didn't feel a blade, but she felt Ch'en'ya's eyes following her all the way to the lift.
In Sanctuary's practice yard below, Ch'en'ya moved slowly through the practice forms, her chya held before her, paying no heed to her fellow students or to those watching the exercises from the balcony above.
"She is undisciplined and full of anger," Byar said, his wings moving to indicate patience. "But that is only to be expected." He turned away from the balcony to look at Jackie. "Yet she learns every lesson and does not need to be reminded. Her Sensitive powers . . ." He spread his arms wide. "She is the daughter of her mother," he finished.
"esLi grant that she inherits other things from her as well," Jackie said.
"Such as?"
"A civil tongue. Patience."
"I have not noted either of these as problems, se Jackie. She speaks politely to me and to the instructors, and seems willing to learn at the pace we have set. She seems very . . . determined."
"She is full of the Strength of Madness."
"Yes, of course." They began to walk toward the inner compound of Sanctuary. "That is also to be expected. But her skills can be put to use."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"We are at war, se Jackie. I do not need to remind you of that." They passed under an archway and out of the bright-orange sunlight, into a dim and cool hallway. "We cannot afford to ignore any source of help."
"'Beggars can't be choosers.'"
"If I understand the aphorism correctly, yes. We will be training humans here soon, in accordance with your plans; some of the staff of Sanctuary consider this to be a flawed approach, but none is prepared to gainsay you."
"But they're not happy about it."
"They will not gainsay you," he repeated. They passed through a wide rotunda dotted with perches and causeways above her head, and still more on levels below the path they now walked.
They entered an alcove that looked out toward the sunset. Jackie leaned against a low table that held an ornate flask, delicate cups and a few books; Byar fluttered up to a perch.
She stood up straight and crossed her arms in front of herself. "While we were at Sharia'a, se Byar," she said, "I believe I saw the Destroyer."
"The nemesis of the esHara'y?"
"That's right. It was . . . a vision of the future. The Destroyer was surrounded by alien corpses. I saw something in his eyes: enGa'e'Li, the Strength of Madness. As much as I'd like to see them all dead, it was a disturbing image."
"Did it somehow touch your honor?" Byar's wings betrayed only curiosity, as if a corpse-strewn scene wouldn't disturb him—which, perhaps, it might not.
"No. It affected my Inner Peace, though. It was sent to me by an esGa'uYe."
"It could have been a false seeming," Byar said, his wings assuming the Posture of Guard.
"I don't think so. They've tried to deceive and distract me, but they've never directly lied to me." Yet, she added to herself.
"I see. Then how did you know it to be a future vision?"
"Ch'en'ya was in it. She was
an adult, perhaps twenty-five or thirty turns older than now. She was with him."
"With the Destroyer." He seemed thoughtful for a moment. "A servant? An ally?"
"An ally, I think. She seemed . . . content. It was as if—she saw all the destruction as a job well done. It gave her pleasure."
"A warrior's task is to destroy. You carry the gyaryu and I carry a chya—but their ultimate purpose is clear: They were forged to taste the blood of enemies."
"Not like that."
"This is a human sensibility, se Jackie, if I may be permitted to say so. Even now, we are training warriors and Sensitives to fight a war—a destructive war—for the survival of the People and the Solar Empire. We will even fight on behalf of the creatures who will not fight for themselves."
He altered his stance to convey distaste—it was a wing-position that usually went with discussion of the rashk. whom most zor disliked.
"If I were not human, I might be offended at that."
"Eight thousand pardons, se Jackie, but if you were not human, it might not be necessary for me to clarify the point."
"I—" She bit back a retort, thinking. "I suppose there's some merit in that," she said, after a moment. "But it bothers me all the same, to see this as her future."
"There is no guarantee that this is a true future, se Jackie. It is likely only a possible future. esLi Himself"—he re-formed his wings in a posture of honor to esLi—"only knows what lies ahead in anyone's flight."
"So it might not happen, after all."
"The esGa'uYe has shown it to you for a reason. He wishes to push you in a particular direction—either toward that result, or away from it. What we do not know, is which result he prefers."
"I don't particularly like the outcome he showed me. Was that meant to push me away from it, or just to scare me into thinking that it might come to pass? Damn." She put her hand on the gyaryu and walked to the window, where Antares, Zor'a's primary, was lowering toward the horizon.
A cold breeze suddenly came from nowhere, interrupting the sultry, sweaty air outside. It seemed to ruffle the hairs on the back of her neck.
The Dark Ascent Page 44
