Artemis Awakening (33 page)

Not really,
Griffin thought.
If I were on the moon, I couldn’t try signaling land. Difficult, perhaps, but not impossible.

“The locals,” Julyan continued, “shun this area. In addition to the natural hazards, legends have grown up that the islands are haunted by the ghosts of the seegnur. Although we are careful not to go out during the daytime, should anyone do so and chance be seen by, say, a passing fishing vessel, they would simply add to the body of folklore.”

“Has the Old One known about this facility for long?” Griffin asked.

“Quite a while,” Julyan said. “When he first found it, it was in very bad shape. This corridor, for example, was cluttered with debris, both carried in on the tides and from the battles that were fought here long ago. Even the tunnel from the shuttle bay in the Sanctum was cluttered. The Old One arranged for labor to clear it out.”

Labor,
Griffin thought.
I wonder if the disappearance of a ship or two might be credited to the Old One’s list. Maybe it’s something far more simple—any port town has a fair share of transients. Or maybe he bought slaves. Adara and Terrell gave me to understand that slavery isn’t favored in this region but that doesn’t mean it isn’t elsewhere.

“What a tremendous undertaking,” Griffin said, allowing himself to sound impressed. “Is there a great deal of that sort of work still to be done?”

“Not a great deal,” Julyan replied. “The facility is large—it had to be to house both shuttles and the equipment needed to work on them. However, it was not complex. The Old One has theorized that the people who worked here lived on the mainland.”

There was a slight question in the words. After all, Griffin’s finding of the crew quarters beneath the Sanctum had undone one of the Old One’s theories—that the crew for the facility had lived in the town of Spirit Bay.

Griffin nodded. “I think he is correct. There would be no reason to set up separate living and dining facilities. In the days when Mender’s Isle was in use, there were probably scooters of some sort in the tunnels. The staff here could have commuted back and forth in less time than it has taken us to walk to this point.”

“Amazing,” Julyan said. “I am continually awed that, given all they could do, the seegnur would have chosen to come to a primitive place like Artemis.”

Is he trying to get me to give my origin away? Careful, Griffin.

“I don’t know,” Griffin said. “I once knew a very rich man whose greatest pleasure was pruning the roses in his garden. Access to wealth and power does not mean other pleasures are lessened. Consider the Old One, he has wealth and influence beyond most, yet he chooses to spend his long years in historical research for no other reason than the pleasure of knowledge.”

A knowing expression flashed across Julyan’s features, then vanished.

So, it is not simply the pleasure of knowledge that drives the Old One. Does he search these ruins for the same reason that he breeds creatures like Ring? What connects the two? I feel sure there is a connection. And when I do know, then, too, I will have a better idea why the Old One is willing to take the double risk of keeping me captive yet giving me freedom to explore.

Interlude: Have No

Have no eyes.

     See.

Have no ears.

     Hearing.

Have no heart.

     Lonely.

18

Dreams

They brought in Griffin’s body on the third day. The corpse was swollen and bloated from immersion in water. Crabs had been at it, ruining the features, but tufts of bright golden hair seemed to prove that this man was indeed Griffin Dane.

Adara sent Sand Shadow an image of Griffin superimposed over that of the dead body. Sand Shadow’s reply was inconclusive, including the many other scents that overlay that of the dead man: rot, sea wrack, fish, and the men who had handled the body. Whether the human scent that remained was Griffin’s own, the puma could not be sure.

Laying a soothing hand on her demiurge’s neck, Adara rubbed the deep plushy fur. She had her reasons for thinking this mutilated corpse was not that of her friend, but she kept them to herself until she and Terrell were alone.

“I don’t think it was Griffin,” Adara said. “For one, Sand Shadow caught no trace of his scent. And the man whose boat found the body is familiar to me.”

Terrell had been sunk in thought. Now he rallied and looked at Adara. “Familiar?”

“He was the man I saw in conference with Julyan,” Adara said. “The captain of the fishing fleet that carried supplies to the Haunted Islands. That seems too much of a coincidence.”

“But the color of the hair…” Terrell obviously wanted to believe Adara, but this was a point that couldn’t be ignored.

“I don’t know how that was managed,” Adara said, “but Griffin is not the only man to have hair of that rich wheat gold.”

“It would be too much to believe that there was a corpse of the right type neatly available,” Terrell protested.

“Is it too much to believe that the Old One would connive at murder? Knowing what else we do?”

“No…” Terrell slapped at a fly that had landed on Midnight’s neck with such violence that the black turned his head to look at him in reproach. “Sorry, fellow…”

Adara wouldn’t have been a credit to Bruin’s teaching if she couldn’t tell that Terrell was deeply troubled. Instinctively, she knew that this was a time for listening, so she guided Tarnish along and waited with the same patience she would have given to stalking some prize bit of game.

“Adara … I don’t think Griffin’s dead either.” Terrell’s brash confidence had vanished. He spoke hesitantly, like a little boy scared by a night fear. “I’ve been dreaming about him. The dreams are so real. Either I’m going mad or somehow in his sleep he’s calling out and I’m … I’m hearing him.”

“When did the dreams start?”

“On the night he vanished.” Terrell shook his head. “That’s not completely … Adara! Don’t get the wrong idea. There have been dreams almost since I met Griffin. Ever since he saved my life. I’ve felt bound. Connected. And as if I was going crazy.”

“And these are the same?” Adara asked. “Not guilt?”

“Not guilt,” Terrell said firmly. “I felt that, sure, but before what I felt was a buzz, a hum, just a sense of him. Now there’s a focus and that focus is him, alive somewhere. I’m sure he’s not dead.”

Adara leaned so she could pat Terrell on one shoulder. “I believe you. The lore said the seegnur had strange powers. Perhaps Griffin does as well.”

“But why me? Why not you? You knew him first. He … I think he cares for you.”

Adara shook her head. “Perhaps because Griffin saved your life. Some say that doing such a thing makes you responsible for a person from that point on. I saved him. It’s not the same thing. As for him caring … I think what he feels for me is more confused than that.”

“And you for him?”

“You’ve asked that before and the answer hasn’t changed. I don’t know how I feel—for him, for you. Seeing Julyan again made me realize how little I know of love. I would have given Julyan anything—I did give him everything I had to give. He put me aside as if I was nothing more than a pleasant distraction.”

She shook her head so hard that her braid snapped. “This is not the time for such talk. Let us accept that the three of us—you and me and Sand Shadow—all have our reasons to believe that Griffin Dane lives.”

“Very well.”

“Shall we also accept that it is best the Old One not realize what we think?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then we must consider how we plan our hunt.”

Terrell drew in his breath, expelling it as if pushing away dreams and nightmares. “There is a matter you may not have considered. Griffin’s body is found. Once it is buried, there is no reason for us to remain in the Old One’s Sanctum. We came to bring Griffin to him. We stayed as Griffin’s companions.”

“Good point,” Adara said. “The funeral is not likely to be long delayed. Griffin did not have friends to gather from afar. He may even be buried today.”

“I suspect he will be,” Terrell agreed, “especially if the body is not Griffin’s. The Old One will not wish to take risks, nor will he throw us out at once, but he will become impatient.”

Adara nodded. “Very good. Then tonight Sand Shadow and I will search the Sanctum and reassure ourselves that Griffin is not there.”

“I’ll help.”

“No. We can prowl in the dark as you cannot. Moreover, I am an oddity to the Old One. If by some small chance we are caught, I can make some excuse. He has little respect for me. It will be easy to make him believe I am merely grief stricken.”

“I’ll accept that,” Terrell said. “But you don’t believe you will find Griffin, do you?”

“No. I think that, if he is anywhere near, he is on those islands. We have good reason to believe they are where the Old One keeps other prisoners. Getting there will be the problem.”

“So we won’t leave Spirit Bay?”

“I think not. We can stay at the Trainers, give out that we are shopping for special goods to bring back to Bruin. When I told Elaine earlier that Griffin had drowned, she offered us shelter along with her condolences.”

“It would be odder if we left for Shepherd’s Call empty-handed,” Terrell agreed. “And since the Trainers offer room, then all is set.”

*   *   *

When they returned to the Sanctum, they found matters progressing much as they had anticipated. Griffin was to be buried that evening at a local cemetery, his funeral attended by several loremasters. When they learned of the funeral, the entire mass of the extended Trainer household insisted on attending as well.

Adara found herself deeply touched, both by that gesture of friendship and by the funeral itself. She wept without artifice, for if Griffin was not dead he was something far worse—prisoner of a man without scruples. She wept, too, for Bruin, who—though he did not know it—had been horribly betrayed by one he had thought of as friend and mentor.

Terrell did not weep as openly, but his bright blue eyes were dimmed by tears and his lips pressed into a tight line.

*   *   *

That night Adara and Sand Shadow went over the Sanctum from end to end. They could not go into the Old One’s own suite nor that shared by Jean and Joffrey, but no other place was spared. They began with the crew quarters, for one of those many rooms might make a good prison. When this turned up nothing, they went to the other side.

The hidden door still showed no sign of ever having been opened, removing some lingering suspicion that Griffin had found a way through there and been kidnapped for his pains. The communications room remained as empty and useless as ever. It was only when they gave the shuttle arrival bay a quick check that something suspicious turned up.

Sand Shadow had been carefully sniffing every area they inspected. Now Adara became aware that her demiurge was excitedly pawing at something wedged between dormant equipment and the wall. She hurried over to the great cat’s side. Kneeling, she picked up what Sand Shadow’s paws had been too large to pull from the confined space—several handmade marbles. Sand Shadow, who would know such things, even in the dark, confirmed that they were Griffin’s.

Then the puma added an image that it took Adara a moment to unravel. Surely there was nothing odd about the Old One’s scent being here. Then she grasped the puma’s meaning. The Old One’s scent was here, fresh and much overlaid, as if he came to this place often—far more often than he ever let on.

Though they searched carefully, the metal-clad walls yielded nothing. Adara wondered what secrets they had told the Old One—and if Griffin had learned them, so sealing his fate.

*   *   *

Julyan was faithful to his word. At the end of the tour, he even reassured Griffin that soon enough all restrictions would be lifted.

“The Old One wants to talk with you first, that’s all. He thinks that once you understand what he is trying to do here, you will be eager to join with him.”

Griffin was not at all so certain, but he wasn’t going to say so. He made a noncommittal sound that could be interpreted as just about anything Julyan chose. Next, Julyan introduced him to a man named Dierks.

“Dierks will be your assistant. He’s fully literate and familiar with both this facility and the one beneath the Sanctum.”

Dierks was a small man with an upturned nose, freckles, and a crop of sandy-red hair, thinning slightly at the crown. Unlike Julyan, who moved with the same dangerous grace as Adara, Dierks did not look as if he’d be much good in a fight. Although Griffin supposed that he had to consider Dierks his guard as much as his assistant, he didn’t feel that Dierks would be able to do much to stop him if he found some way to escape. The thought was both reassuring and disquieting.

If they thought I could get away, they would have assigned someone more like Julyan to stay with me. This little clerk can rat on me, but that’s about it.

Dierks, it turned out, had trained as a loremaster. “I came to the profession through my faith,” he explained as he and Griffin pored over hand-drawn diagrams of the facility. “I firmly believed that the seegnur could not have created a world with error in it, that if I studied hard enough I would find a reason for such things as illness and death. What I found instead were more puzzles. My questions made me unwelcome at the loremaster’s college.

“I traveled, still seeking wisdom. My journey ended when I met the Old One. He studies the seegnur without undue awe at their achievements…”

Which makes him a fool if ever I’ve met one,
Griffin thought uncharitably.

“… and seeks instead to understand what they have left behind in the hope that someday we will be able to benefit. He also…”

Dierks halted, a blush climbing from his collar to the top of his balding head.

Griffin looked up from the drawing he had been studying, pretended not to notice, and gently asked, “Yes?”

“I nearly overstepped, Griffin. My apologies. Julyan told me that the Old One would wish to tell you about his greater plans himself, that he would explain much better.”