"We don't really know if it's purely decorative, or has some purpose," Mara was saying. "It functions in the same way as the other pattern-roof villages—produces aether each moonfall—but no-one's been able to rule out the possibility that it's more than extreme landscape design."
"There are houses out there," Alay added. "Exactly eleven, and much larger and more complex than the simple, repetitive design of these box structures on the hillside. There might be a lot of theories, but the most likely explanation is this was simply a pretty place for an elite to visit."
"I'm going to stick with it being an outpost of Faerie," Sue said, firmly, and began to circle the rim of the amphitheatre, which had clearly been designed for the purpose of looking out rather than in.
Laura followed a step behind, still holding Gidds' hand, and glad when everyone lapsed back into appreciative silence, for this was a dawn for hush and wonder.
She spotted one of the houses, buried beneath overhanging branches on one of the countless islands. A slender curved bridge connected that island to the next, and Laura was able to pick out occasional sections of a whitestone path, patchily visible beneath undisturbed centuries of leaves turned to mulch, encroaching bushes, and a top layer of fallen petals. Birds were everywhere. Elegant herons. Fat ducks. Sleek divers. Flittings in the bushes. And, above, an ever-changing cloud swirling, darting, turning.
Zee returned with the girls, and took Gidds, Laura, Sue and Julian straight up. Laura gulped because thinking flying incredible didn't stop her stomach from feeling like it dropped to her feet whenever she was being whizzed about. She started to let go of Gidds' hand, but he tightened his grip briefly, and shook his head to show he wasn't bothered, and she found that having something to hold on to helped convince her innards that she wasn't freefalling.
They rose to a point where they could take in the whole of the plain—high enough that it almost felt like a later part of the day—and then Zee tilted them gently forward so that they were hovering 'Superman-style', and could just look.
The river really was a river. Laura could see it stretching from their left to their right: a natural flow that only happened to be interrupted by a vast circle of channels in the shape of a tree, all wide spreading branches and tangled roots picked out in shimmering water.
"There's only a single route through," Sue said, eventually. "By land, I mean."
Impressed that she'd been able to work this out, Laura tried to track the path.
"From the amphitheatre, you can walk across the whole thing," Zee said. "It loops all the way through the roots and the branches and returns to the central hill."
"Is anyone studying this?" Sue asked. "Documenting it? I suppose they must be, and there's a million volunteers wanting to help."
"There are multiple studies," Gidds told her. "And opportunities are certainly competitive. However, those vetting the applications may well take your special circumstances into account."
"Cass opens a lot of doors, huh?" Sue said. "Well, I'm not one to stand on principle to the point of idiocy. Nepotism it shall be."
Zee laughed. "Your perspective as a person from an entirely different culture is not so small a factor. And you know we all clamour for copies of the scans you take of the children. I don't know what it is about them that makes for the one image we want to keep of each occasion."
"Framing, mostly," Sue said with a professional's abstraction, gazing at the shimmering scene below.
"Eleven was a significant number in old Muinan society," Gidds offered. "Though whether it has been used here for luck or has greater significance we cannot tell, and until a full study has been made, there will be no construction whatsoever on this site—or even outside its bounds. The research teams are based out of Pandora."
Sue's attention had been stolen by the murmuration, returning from a circuit of the roots of the city. The flight of birds was incredible enough to watch from the ground. Witnessing it from above—and perilously near to within—stunned them to silence until Zee dropped them back to the amphitheatre.
"I think they are starlings," Sue said. "Same as Earth, or very similar. Though I thought murmurations were a dusk behaviour for them, not dawn."
As Zee took Nick, Alyssa, Mara and Alay for their turn, Gidds asked the four girls which direction they'd like to walk. Haelin and Lira immediately said opposite directions, and were each seconded by Allidi and Maddy.
"Which do you prefer, Unna Laura?" Lira asked, but Laura was not going to start the day playing favourites.
"I'd say flip a coin—which is how a decision between two choices is often made on Earth—but I don't think any of us would have a coin. I wonder if you have an equivalent of rock-paper-scissors?"
After some explanation she learned that Tare had cloth-razor-stone and old Muina had had spider-snake-bird, but Gidds annoyed his daughters by pointing out that this was not a game you wanted to play against Sight Sight talents, and so they created a makeshift coin, and Haelin won the toss.
Lira was not someone who enjoyed losing, but after a moment's scowl she asked Haelin: "Why do you want to go into the roots instead of the branches?"
"Because that's where trees start," Haelin said, matter-of-factly. "Going the other way would be starting at the end."
"The light comes in at the leaves," Lira countered, though without real heat.
"How long would it take to walk all about this place?" Maddy asked. "Could we do the whole thing?"
"Quite a few days, I'd say," Sue said. "You could maybe walk the edge in a long day, but that path was twisty. Did you notice that there were distinct regions? Blurred by time, but definitely different original plantings."
Zee returned with her last batch, and Laura saw that even the Setari, who had visited Areziath before, were wide-eyed and awed.
"Let's walk without talking—at least at the start," Alyssa said. "It's kind of a place for being quiet."
They started down off the hill: a walk that took a half hour in itself, and made for an eerie progress, for the ruins had been left undisturbed by those who studied them, and the empty doors and windows of the houses gave glimpses into an ancient past, where one day every occupant had died all at once. Whatever the city's purpose in the past, it was a mass grave now.
Yet it was not an oppressive place. Empty, almost lonely, but with no sense of ancient violence. Laura let her breath out in a muted sigh after they had passed the last of the platform-roof houses, and then checked on Lira, who had not precisely lived through that long-ago disaster. The girl's brow was clear, and when she noticed Laura looking she gave her a reassuring smile. Kids.
Liranadestar: Do you think everyone will like the cookies I made, Unna Laura?
Laura: If they taste half as nice as they smelled baking, I think they're sure to. Especially after a long walk.
The entrance to the path was through a stone arch, sadly fractured in several places, but still giving the transition an air of formal commencement. They walked into birdsong, a heady scent of blossom, and the chirrup and whine of insects—fortunately kept at bay by simple sonic devices worn clipped to clothing. Crossing to the second of the countless islands, Gidds sent Laura his visual feed, and a whole extra world of small animals was revealed.
The reverent silence did not last, and they began to point out particular features to each other. Small nests built precariously on the ends of reeds. A turquoise flash as a fishing bird dived. Water thickly layered with blue and white petals. Otters.
Laura gripped Gidds' hand at this latest discovery, and his feed showed he glanced at her rather than the ripples in the water. He was enjoying their reaction to Areziath as much as the walk itself. But then he helpfully indicated the direction the otters had headed, and seemed as interested in them as he was pleased by the expression on his daughters' faces as a sleek brown head popped out of the water almost at their feet.
It took all of two hours to reach the first of the structures dotted along the winding path: a rambling house, almos
t lost beneath a mass of creepers, and a pavilion structure that sat separate, in the point section of a large, teardrop-shaped island.
"Lunchtime," Sue said firmly, and headed for the pavilion.
It was a splendid meal. They spread picnic blankets, shared out dishes, and talked theories—the Setari taking turns to stand on guard. Alay told them some of the details they could not see: the depth of the water, the hidden channels that ensured that there was a cross-flow in places that might otherwise lie stagnant, and the silting that blocked many of them. There was a big push to allow more visitors, but also a counter movement to simply recreate Areziath elsewhere if people wanted to trail about it.
Gidds somehow managed to maintain his upright posture even while sitting cross-legged on a blanket, with a cluster of pink, trumpet-shaped flowers dangling an inch above his head. His daughters imitated him with the ease of long practice, and Laura, noticing her own back was very straight, consciously adjusted her posture. She would never fully understand how a man could be so quiet, and yet have such an impact on those around him. Even Julian was less sprawling than usual.
But it was not an uncomfortable atmosphere, and Laura watched him being happy, while they sampled all the food. Each household had brought a contribution to the picnic, so there was plenty to eat. The cookies were a success.
"Places ending in 'iath' definitely mean 'city', right, Lira?" Sue was saying. "Yet this place can't possibly be intended for a city's population."
"But it is very big," Lira pointed out, with some surprise. "That makes it a city."
"I'd call it a town surrounded by a water park. I wonder whether the otters are local, given that they occur around Pandora as well. Perhaps this was started off as some kind of wetland specimen collection? There's certainly a massive variation of plants."
"Can we explore the house, Dzo?" Allidi asked.
Gidds shook his head. "The research teams have so far catalogued without removing objects, and do not want the interiors disturbed. You can circle the outside of it, if you wish—or take a half-kasse to explore the island. The site map shows areas of use."
Laura hadn't even thought to look for an interface map, and guessed that 'areas of use' was an oblique way of pointing out a set of bushes that had been designated as a latrine area. There she found that the interdiction on building at Areziath did not mean you could not send in floating kiosks containing roomy bathrooms, and so she would not need the trowel she had thoughtfully packed—and could even take a hot shower if the notion struck her. The researchers likely didn't want to introduce an accumulation of human waste to a sensitive site. Or Tarens didn't think much of squatting over a hole. Either way, Laura was grateful for unexpected luxuries.
The island was large, and overgrown enough that when Laura emerged she could not see a single person. Walking to the nearest shore, she settled on a convenient rock and—after sending Sue a suggestion that she check out 'Howl's Perambulating Pottie'—searched the water for more glimpses of otters.
A charming blue and black duck presented itself instead, swimming along the channel and nibbling at waterweed. Laura promptly added it to a collection of scans she was building as a gift for Rye, who—thanks to a stream of subtitled BBC documentaries provided by Cass—idolised David Attenborough, and diligently catalogued every plant and animal he encountered.
There were quite a few birthdays to prepare for. Sen's was very soon, and Lira's fourteenth. And then it would be not so very long before Tyrian turned one—by the Muinan calendar. By Earth reckoning Tyrian would be one much sooner. Laura would have to–
With a muted 'plup', the blue and black duck vanished. Pulled under. Frozen, Laura stared at the spreading circle of ripples, not sure whether to leap away. It was all too easy to picture something drawn by her movement, exploding from the water in a tentacular frenzy.
Pond weed. Ripples. Nothing.
Laura relaxed, and then murmured: "Et in Arcadia ego."
"Tsa Devlin?"
Laura turned to find Allidi and Haelin dividing their attention between her and the water.
"I was just wondering whether I should move back," Laura said, hoping she hadn't painted herself a coward.
"There's no directed threat," Allidi told her.
"Good to know," Laura said, and then gestured to the rock next to hers, glad for a conversational opener that was less inane than asking if they liked being Kalrani. "I don't really understand Combat Sight. Can you sense all living things, or only those that want to hurt you?"
"Neither," Allidi replied, neatly arranging herself on the rock. "It is an awareness of potential danger."
"Things like worms and most bugs don't register at all," Haelin added, plunking herself down beside her sister, but then making a habitual adjustment to a more arranged posture. "Things that can't hurt you, really, and don't want to."
"Whatever is there is a predator," Allidi said, indicating the now-still water with a faint lift of her chin. "It's not aware of us, and probably would not ordinarily attack creatures our size, but it registers to Combat Sight because there is a potential for danger."
"If we splashed our feet in the water it might bite them," Haelin interpolated. "But it's not going to leap at us."
"Combat Sight tells you all that?"
"It's like coloured static, but without noise, and you can't really see it," Haelin explained—not at all helpfully.
"Something not very dangerous and not interested in us—one of those birds—is barely there," Allidi added. "A grey haze that is hard to even notice. If we made it angry somehow, and it decided to attack us, it would be yellower and a little stronger to see, and we would feel it as a directed threat. Something that could be dangerous, but isn't interested in us would be a green—the more dangerous the easier it is to see. If it decided it wanted to attack us, it would become yellow, and sharper." She paused apologetically. "Those are words to give you some idea. It's not really colours."
"The shape of the experience, but not the taste," Laura said, with a wry smile. "What about if, oh, the pavilion we had lunch in was cracked, and was about to fall on our head. Would Combat Sight notice that?"
"No, it could not have any potential for intent," Allidi said.
"We'd probably see that with Sight Sight, though," Haelin said, shrugging. "What did you say about Arcadia, before you noticed us?"
Laura paused so she could phrase the words as correctly as possible in Muinan. "'Even in Arcadia, there I am.'"
Most Muinans would probably meet this with blankness or mild confusion, and Haelin did precisely that, but Allidi straightened, delicate brows drawing together, and after a distinct pause she said: "Death?"
Sight Sight truly was remarkable. "Has—do you know the meaning of Arcadia?"
"Gelezan," Haelin said.
Laura looked the word up to confirm that Gelezan was, indeed, the equivalent of a rural utopia.
"Yes. On Earth there is a painting—it's about five hundred years old—of people standing in a rural landscape around a tomb. A monument to a dead person. And on it, in a rather old language, is carved what we translate as 'Even in Arcadia, there I am'. There's plenty of debate over what exactly this symbolises—the immortality of art or some such—but on the most basic level it is a reminder that death comes to even the best of places."
"Oh," Haelin said. The younger girl's tone and expression were an unexpected mix of disappointment and frustration, and she sighed deeply before adding: "I wish you would hurry up. Dzo has been waiting so long."
"Haelin!" Allidi said, sharply.
"Well it's true," Haelin retorted. "For years and years."
Laura, very confused, said: "We only met a few months ago, you know."
"But it's been forever since you came to Muina," Haelin said. "And we've been waiting and waiting since long before that, ever since Dzo's Sight told him, and, really, you are so very slow."
Laura didn't feel slow. She felt like she was in freefall. It had been little more than a Taren
year since she'd first met Gidds Selkie. Yet Haelin had said 'long before' she came to Muina.
What in the world was going on?
Chapter Eighteen
Two calmly self-assured Sight Sight talents had been replaced by girls, one glowering at Laura, aggrieved, and the other entirely dismayed.
"She's overstating," Allidi assured Laura, her own face pinched and anxious. "Dzo has—it's the wrong way to put it."
"I—" Laura began, feeling very off-balance. Then she stopped, putting aside her reaction because Allidi looked like she was about to be ill. "Well, this is very confusing, but I gather you're talking about something your own Sights have told you, Haelin? In which case, I suspect you owe your father an apology for telling me things private to him."
"I haven't, really," Haelin protested, but she'd lost her head of steam, and any hint of her usual confidence.
For a moment Laura became very worried indeed, but neither of the girls gave a sense of being afraid of their father's reaction. Instead they were behaving as if they'd knocked down some treasured family ornament, and were counting the pieces. Or, more to the point, they were worried they might have cost their father his romance.
Years and years?
"Go explain to Dzo," Allidi said, with a mix of stern command and unhappiness, and when Haelin reluctantly obeyed the older girl turned back to Laura, gathering some semblance of her usual poise to add: "I apologise for her, Tsa Devlin."
The exchange had given Laura a chance to try to put her thoughts into order, and while she couldn't quite put aside a queasy roil of uncertainty, she had no intention of taking that out on this girl.
"I'd like it if you and your sister called me Laura," she said, firmly. "And, Allidi, I'm not someone who—" She hesitated, struggling to translate 'goes off half-cocked' into Muinan, and settled for: "I'm not someone who often leaps before looking. Your father and I seem to be overdue for a conversation, but the simplest thing to do is to have that conversation." She smiled ruefully. "From my point of view, things have been quite fast, not slow at all. I don't quite see why your sister finds that upsetting."
In Arcadia (Touchstone Book 5) Page 20
