The Children were utterly transformed. They were grossly swollen, two and three times as big as the day before. Most had grown erratically, sprouting extra limbs, with weird, bulging musculature. Some now moved on four legs and there was one whose skin was scaled like a lizard’s.
“Here comes Heram,” Tairus observed, pointing. He, Rome and Quyloc were on top of the wall. Heram came walking up the main street that led to the gates. “Looks like his eyes grew back.”
Heram’s face was massively scarred, especially around his eyes, but he did have eyes once again. Flanked by his two followers, he strode up to the wall. He looked up at the men standing there and he smiled.
“Nowhere else to go!” he yelled. “Jump into the sea now, while you still can!” The two flanking him laughed.
“I’m starting to not like that guy,” Tairus said sourly.
“I don’t see Reyna anywhere,” Quyloc said. It looked like most of the Children were there. Several were pounding on the stones stacked behind the gates. A few others were pounding on the wall itself. Some were leaping, trying to climb the wall, though so far without success.
“Maybe she didn’t make it out of the rubble,” Rome said.
“None of them seem to be able to seize a man at a distance like she could,” Quyloc observed. “At least not yet.”
“Yay, we’re winning,” Tairus said.
Down below them the Tenders, led by Bronwyn, with Nalene watching, were finishing a new barrier. Ricarn stood off to one side. When the barrier was up, Ricarn called up to the men. “We need to talk.”
Ricarn led them to a pair of benches sitting in the shade of the palace. The palace grounds were busy with soldiers and civilians. Babies cried and children chased each other in games of tag. Long tables had been set up and servants were carrying tray after tray of food from the palace to them. Quite a few people had already eaten. The line of those waiting was still long.
“I have been thinking,” Ricarn said, “and what we need is a shield like Melekath erected around Durag’otal.”
“What are you talking about?” Rome asked.
Nalene answered him. “When Xochitl and the Eight besieged Durag’otal, Melekath raised a shield that covered the entire city. It was so strong even the Eight could not break through it.” She looked at Ricarn. “But we have no idea how he did it. Even if we did, we couldn’t possibly—”
“You give the impossible power it need not have,” Ricarn interjected. “It is why our order is so lost.” Nalene closed her mouth, blinking rapidly. “Melekath created the shield by drawing on the power at the Heart of the Stone.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rome said. “How does this help us?”
“There’s power within the Stone,” Quyloc told him. “Like LifeSong, but deeper, slower. And far, far stronger.” To Ricarn he said, “But how do we do this?”
“Melekath wasn’t strong enough to build the shield alone,” Ricarn said.
“Then what good is talking about this?” Tairus snapped. “You’re wasting our time.”
Ricarn didn’t even glance at Tairus. Calmly, she said, “Melekath had help. From one of the ronhym.”
“He had help from what? How do you know this?” Nalene asked.
“My Arc never destroyed or suppressed knowledge,” Ricarn replied. “We saw what was happening, soon after Xochitl left, how the FirstMother began to hide or destroy information she did not trust the rest of us to handle. We began copying what we could, things like eyewitness accounts from Tenders who were at the siege.” She pointed at the axe Rome had strapped to his back. “I believe that is one of the ronhym.”
“Does someone want to tell me what a ronhym is?” Rome asked, irritation in his voice.
“I do not know much,” Ricarn admitted. “Only that they are a very old race, maybe even older than the Shapers. They dwell deep within the Stone.”
“If it is a ronhym,” Quyloc said, “that would explain a lot. Why it can cut through stone like it does.”
“So this is some kind of creature called a ronhym?” Rome said, drawing the axe. He handled it gingerly, as if it might bite him.
“I believe so,” Ricarn replied.
“What was it doing in the wall of the prison?” Rome asked.
“Think about it,” Quyloc said, a measure of excitement creeping into his voice. “The thing helped Melekath erect the shield around Durag’otal. If it did that, we can assume it was friendly with Melekath, at least allied with him, right?” Rome nodded. “Somehow it ends up stuck in the prison wall. You come along, pull it out, and that provides the crack that lets Melekath break the prison and free himself and his Children.”
“You’re saying that thing put itself into the wall on purpose?” Tairus asked, frowning.
“It makes sense,” Quyloc replied, looking at Ricarn. She nodded, ever so slightly. To Rome he said, “You told me it’s been communicating with you, asking you to free it.”
“It happened again yesterday,” Rome said.
“So you think if we free it maybe it will help us too, put up one of those shields here?” Tairus asked.
“It’s worth a try,” Quyloc said.
Everyone looked at Rome. “That’s a lot of guessing,” he said. “It may not be one of those creatures. It may be mad at us. It may just attack us.” He pulled at his beard, thinking. “But we’re out of options.” To Ricarn he said, “How do we wake it up?”
“It already is waking up. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Keep using it.”
Rome looked around. If they still had access to the city, this would be easy. There were lots of stone buildings everywhere. There were stone buildings in here also, as well as the palace itself, but all of them were either housing refugees or packed with food and other supplies. Then it occurred to him.
In front of the palace was a wide, circular drive, where the nobles would pull up in their carriages, back during King Rix’s reign. In the center of the drive was a huge statue of King Rix, one hand holding up a sword, the other shading his eyes as he looked off to the horizon. Rome started for it.
“I’ve always hated that statue,” he said. “Been meaning to get rid of it.”
The first time he hit the statue the axe vibrated so hard in his hands he almost dropped it. The scales on the haft grew more pronounced. The head of the axe seemed more rounded. He swung again and again, the vibration growing stronger with each blow. The statue went down and he chopped it into pieces, cutting off the head first, then the arms and legs and finally cleaving the torso in two. By then the axe was buzzing so hard it hurt his hands. He dropped it on the ground and stepped back. The weapon began to writhe. Legs, spindly at first, but then growing thicker, separated from the haft. The thing’s back arched and its neck grew longer.
Tairus started to draw his weapon, but Rome stopped him.
“Let’s not have it thinking we’re the enemy,” he said. Tairus slid his axe back into its sheath.
A couple of minutes later the transformation was complete. The ronhym lay on the cobblestones, four-legged, sleek and black, with what looked like fine scales covering its body and a tapered head similar to a dog’s. It squirmed, then got up onto its feet, the head turning and pointing up at them. The eyes it turned on Rome were very liquid and deep. It opened its mouth—it seemed to have no teeth—and strange sounds came from it.
“What?” Rome said.
The ronhym shook itself. A strange shudder passed over it and it seemed almost to be melting. Its front legs became shorter, thinner, and its rear legs grew longer, thicker. The spine straightened, the neck shortened. Its muzzle retreated into its face.
When next it faced Rome it stood on two legs, in shape very similar to a human, though very slim and lithe. There were faint suggestions of ears on the sides of its head and its thin-lipped mouth was very wide. It was a head shorter than they were.
“This form should be easier for you to relate to,” it said. Its voice sounded rusty, the
words odd, but recognizable. It sounded female. “I forgot that I cannot speak your language in my true form.” She bowed to him. “You have my gratitude for freeing me.”
Rome stared at her, wondering what to say. “Do you know who we are?” he finally managed.
The ronhym nodded. “I have been listening to you for some time.” She looked to the pile of stones in place behind the gates. “I know something of your situation.”
“What’s your name?” Quyloc asked.
“I am…” The creature paused. “You would not be able to pronounce my name. You may call me Ketora, as the Children did.” As she spoke of the Children her mouth drooped and she lowered her head. “They were not like this…back then.”
“So you did enter the prison wall willingly,” Quyloc said.
“Your kind is not meant for living underground, cut off from all that sustains you. I felt pity for them and acted.”
“You are no living creature,” Nalene said. Her sulbit was acting strangely, pacing back and forth across her shoulders, making chittering noises. She put her hand on it to try and calm it.
“No. The ronhym were old long before Life. We are creatures of the Stone. We have been here since the beginning. We watched the Nipashanti fall from the sky.”
“You helped Melekath build the shield,” Ricarn said.
Ketora nodded. “I was there when Melekath created the Gift. I saw what it cost him to give of himself like that. You might say we were friends. He was the only one of the Nipashanti to visit my people and learn about us. Most were too arrogant to see beyond themselves.”
“Can you help us put up a shield here?” Nalene asked.
Ketora looked at the front gates again. “Even if I do, and the Children go away, their hunger will not abate. You still have no way to stop them.”
“We have to start somewhere,” Rome said. “Hard to find a solution if we’re all dead.”
“I will help you. The Children do not know what it is they do. I say again: they were not always this way.”
There came the sound of heavy blows against the stones blocking the entrance and it seemed like they moved fractionally.
“I will need a relif and the help of one of the Nipashanti. Otherwise the power is too much even for me to control. How big we can make it will depend on how strong the Nipashanti is. I am only a conduit.” More heavy thudding against the stones. “There is, however, one thing I can help you with right now.”
Ketora walked over to the cut stones filling the passage under the wall. The masons still working there all scattered at her approach. She ignored them and placed her hands on the stones. Ketora spoke to the stones in her language. The stones began to melt, though there was no heat. When she pulled her hands away, the gaps between the stones were gone and they were fused to the wall. It looked like no gate had ever been there at all.
“Well, that’s one problem solved,” Tairus said. “It’s going to be hell to clean that out, though.”
Ketora returned to them. “What is a relif?” Nalene asked.
“A kind of crystal. A focus point for Stone power.”
“How do we get one?” Rome asked.
Ketora’s eyes closed. She held her arms out, palms down, and turned slowly in a circle. Then she lowered her arms and looked at Rome. “There is one in the stone, underneath there.” She pointed at the tower.
Forty-two
They walked over closer to the tower. It was completely shrouded in the strange vine from the Pente Akka. Hardly any of the structure was still visible underneath the huge, bright green leaves with their crimson borders. Bright orange flowers the size of shields were dotted here and there. The dune it emerged from was engulfed in the vine as well.
“The vine is of the Pente Akka,” Ketora said, and a shiver passed over her. “It whines with chaos power.” She shook her head emphatically. “I will not allow that thing to touch me. Do not ask me to do this. My willingness only extends so far.”
“Then we have to get you in there without it touching you,” Quyloc said.
“You said you live in stone,” Rome said. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, cut through the ground to get to the crystal? Then you don’t have to worry about the vine at all.”
“Normally, I could do so, but I am still weak from my long captivity. If I go in that way it is possible I would not then have the strength to help you, not for some time. I sense that under the tower there are tunnels and in one of them there is an opening into a deep chasm that leads nearly to the relif. It would be much easier to go that way.”
Quyloc thought of the chasm he crossed when he went to his room under the tower, the tiny flicker of red light he’d seen in its depths one time when his lantern went out.
Rome looked at Quyloc. “You think your rendspear can cut those vines?”
“It did so when I was in the Pente Akka. It should do so here. But that’s only part of our problem. Ketora said she needs one of the Nipashanti to help her control it.” Turning to Nalene, Quyloc said, “Have you had any word from Lowellin?”
Her face twisted harshly. “There has been no sign of the Pro— of Lowellin since the Children arrived. He has abandoned us.”
“It does not matter,” Ketora said. “Lowellin is not First Ring. He is not Nipashanti. He is Lesser.”
“What about T’sim?” Rome asked. “Is he one?”
Ketora nodded. “He will do.”
Rome looked around. “Where is he when I need him?”
A sudden puff of wind, and there was T’sim standing behind Rome, looking as if he’d been there all along. “You require my assistance?” T’sim said mildly.
“Can you help this…help Ketora make us a shield?”
T’sim looked the ronhym over carefully. Then a curious look came over his face and he took a step back. “You knew,” T’sim said.
Ketora nodded.
“What are you talking about?” Rome asked.
T’sim looked at Rome. “She knew what would happen to the Children in there. It is why she sacrificed herself, so that someday the prison would be broken.”
“It is true,” Ketora said.
“Was it worth it, enduring what you did for the sake of mere humans?” T’sim waited expectantly for her answer.
Ketora hesitated. “I do not know. It was uniquely painful, the touch of the abyss. I do not think I will ever completely be free of it.”
“Yet still you stand ready to help them once again.”
“I do.”
“They tortured and killed one of your kind in Kaetria, in the days before the sand swallowed the city.”
“I did not know of this.”
“They were afraid. They thought the ronhym could save them.”
Ketora gave the people gathered around her an unreadable look.
“It was a long time ago,” Quyloc said. “Centuries before any of us were born.”
“Is it true what the Nipashanti says?” Ketora asked.
Quyloc wanted to deny it, but he sensed Ketora pulling back, rethinking her decision. If she thought he was lying to her, they’d lose any chance they had of getting her help on this. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “We don’t have any records from that time. But I think it is probably true. When we’re afraid we don’t always act wisely.” He winced as he said the words, afraid he’d chosen wrongly.
“Remember also that the one who calls himself Rome has used you as a weapon and was prepared to continue to do so,” T’sim added.
“Really, T’sim?” Rome asked. “This is your idea of helping?”
“This is my idea of truth. I only wish to be sure she knows and does not go into this blindly,” T’sim replied.
“Look, Ketora,” Rome said. “I’m sorry for what I did, using you as a weapon and all. At first I didn’t realize you were a living thing and then…” Quyloc caught his eye and shook his head ever so slightly. Rome’s eyes widened and his words died away. He scratched his neck. “Oh, hell. No excuses. Even once I knew the
re was something living in the axe I didn’t do anything about it. We’re in a war here, a war that could mean the death of every person on this world. I’ll do anything to keep that from happening.”
She thought about this for some time. The thudding at the gate sounded very loud in the silence as they all waited for her to decide. At length she said, “I respect your honesty.” To T’sim she said, “I will still do this.”
T’sim turned to Rome. “The ronhym make no more sense to me than you humans do.” He looked over the rest of them. “It is not the way of my kind to become involved.”
“When the Children have devoured all that there is of Life, they will turn to the Spheres,” Ricarn said.
T’sim waved her words away as if they were flies. “I am aware of this. It has no weight with me.”
No one said anything then. There was nothing to say, no arguments that would sway this aranti, this creature of the Sky. No threats that would turn him. No rewards to offer him. He would agree or he would not. They could only wait.
“Find the crystal,” T’sim said at last. “I will consider this.”
Rome turned to Quyloc. “Are you ready?”
In answer, Quyloc unwrapped his spear, took a firm grip on it and looked up at the tower. Now that he was touching the spear directly there was a high-pitched whine in his ears, like mosquitos trying to get past a screen and drink his blood. There was a sense of something hungry waiting, watching. It was not just the vine that would threaten them. There were things living in it and they were perhaps even more dangerous.
But it was only what he had expected and he had already warned the others. There was nothing to do now but go forward. “I’m ready.”
Nicandro and two other soldiers were standing there with them, each of them carrying a large, rectangular, metal-sheathed shield. Rome had a similar shield. “Are you ready?” Rome asked them. The three men nodded. Quyloc could feel the fear that they held tightly in check. He was afraid too, but it was a familiar feeling and somehow more bearable than it had always been before.
“Are you ready?” Rome asked Ketora.
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