City Without End (37 page)

Looking around, he found himself in relative privacy. Withdrawing the smooth cylindrical object from his pocket, he held it concealed in his fist. Hel Ese had termed it a
finder
. She’d given him another mechanical device as well, the one containing the weapon. Standing in place, he let the finder do its work.

He began to walk toward one of the canals, but as he approached, the finder cooled in his hand. Not that direction, then. He chose another direction, all the while praying that the object would not heat up toward the palatine hill. If his destination was the lords’ mansions, he had no idea how he could even enter those precincts.

After an hour, he was still walking along canals, crossing bridges, waiting for the vibration of the finder to show him his target. His skin flushed under the heat of the sky. He had been so long in the undercity, he had no tolerance any longer for the bright. Would Earth’s sun be gentler? It would do no good to worry in advance. Entangled so far with the woman of the Rose, he was in far more danger here than he would ever be in the Rose.

He stood at the foot of a great tower. Its twisting sides rose far, far above him, making him feel as small as a mange nit.

Here, at the base of this great pillar, was his destination. The finder was throbbing heavily in his grip. He surreptitiously pocketed the finder and withdrew from another pocket the thing Hel Ese had called the
cell
. That so small a thing could threaten the vast edifice seemed unlikely; but he trusted Hel Ese’s direction. The surface of the tower had valleys and ridges, almost like the bark of vine trees. Seeing no one else nearby, he shoved the cell into an indentation. Hel Ese had said it could be pressed and molded. Still, he hesitated to push too hard. As he stepped back to observe the effect, he saw that already the cell was darkening to the color of the tower.

Now that the most difficult aspect of his job was complete, he began to feel nervous. His next steps were to find subprefect Milinard and tell his Excellency that he had seen the woman of the Rose in the undercity. It was useless information, since Hel Ese had by now left the place, but providing intelligence to the subprefect was his excuse for being in the Ascendancy.

Inquiring of a litter-borne Gond where the nearest access to the Magisterium might be, he made his way to his interview. The Jout would be waiting, as no doubt the gatekeepers had informed him that Li Yun Tai had invoked the preconsul’s name to enter the Bright City.

Just as he was about to descend the stairs into the Magisterium, Tai turned to gaze at the tower where he’d left the cell. Stopping a Hirrin clerk and pointing, he asked if the tower had a name.

The Hirrin puffed through her mobile lips. “Name? Of course it has a name.”

“May I know it, most excellent clerk?”

She squinted at him, unsure whether the appellation was completely sincere. “It is the Tower of Ghinamid.”

“Ah. The famous tower. My thanks.” It was, he was able to note at this distance, taller than the others. To maintain his persona of simple-minded newcomer, he bowed to the clerk, though she was only a Magisterial flunky.

Lord Ghinamid’s Tower. The ancient monument to the Sleeping Lord.

Even with Tai’s cynical view of the Bright City, the name of the Sleeping Lord invoked a sober awe. The fifth of the great Lords, Ghinamid slept in a great chamber across the plaza from the tower. Tai’s father had once traveled to the Ascendancy and had seen the bier of the lord—which was an open bed where the great being slept. It was said that as one of the original five lords, Ghinamid had longed so much for home that he decided to sleep until the day came when he might return. Tai had always wanted to refute that story. After all, if you were one of the Ruling Five, surely you could choose to go home. Yet he had been sleeping for a thousand thousand days, since the Age of Radiance began.

And a new thought occurred: If, as the dreams said, the Tarig were constantly passing to and from their home to the Entire, then why was it that Lord Ghinamid could not? Not that anything the lords said could be trusted.

He turned to go. There was no grand entrance to the precincts of the realm’s governing hierarchy. It was a modest entryway, a carved double door, almost hidden in a small but well-kept sunken garden.

As he approached the door, Tai wondered what Hel Ese would make of the sights of this city. He wished he could be with her when she arrived, because he knew she would be, in her own way, rapt. Though she was ill and completely focused on her mission, her eyes sometimes betrayed her curiosity about the All; in those few times she had asked about the wonders of the Entire her voice carried a recognizable longing. He’d heard that in his own voice, when he spoke to her of the Rose.

Unconsciously, he patted the folded paper in his pocket, his growing list of words to memorize. Then he went down the stairs, beginning his descent into the tiers of the Magisterium.

Sydney knelt in contemplation before the low altar.

She hoped her attendants would gossip to their friends about her new devotion to the Red Throne. She hoped they’d say that Sen Ni was not so much human, as Chalin. It would be the truth, even if her adoption of the Society’s ways were mostly for show. Even so, she was a child of the Entire.

And perhaps someday, something higher yet. Geng De said
queen
, but that was too grand. A leader; a mistress to fill the vacancy created by the fall of the Tarig. Cixi might want her as high prefect; but the citizens of the Entire would say what they wanted. For now she was mistress of the sway— because the Tarig knew the realm was
tending against them
, and they wanted to look merciful.

Geng De worked very hard on the future, entering the binds and contending with them in ways she couldn’t even imagine. Recently he’d told her that, while there, he saw a disturbing occurrence: her father would betray her.

She had a bargain with her father. It
had
been a bargain. But since Helice had escaped, would her father still honor it? He’d told her he was close to cutting the Tarig off from their source in the Heart. Would he then let Sydney come into her destiny? She thought it was still possible. After all, Geng De’s vision might have shown him one of Titus’s past betrayals, not future.

“Mistress.” Her servant Emar-Vad approached. This Hirrin was swiftly becoming her foremost attendant. She turned to receive him.

“News has come. In the city. Murders.” He hesitated. “And Tarig punishments.”

Sydney rose quickly. “Tell me.”

“A lord has been killed. As a consequence, many are dying.” As Sydney absorbed this, Emar-Vad added, “A massacre. The lords are retaliating across the city.”

Sydney pushed back a rising alarm. “How can they do this?”

His ears flattened. “A mob killed a lord, Mistress Sen Ni. In the under-city. It was an unthinkable public execution.”

Her thoughts raced.
Riod
,
what shall we do?
But he was not here, nor could she share thoughts with him.
Beloved
, she thought. It rang hollow in her skull.

Sydney strode to the door, and Emar-Vad moved with her.

“Where is Lady Anuve?” she asked.

He led the way. As they hurried, they passed knots of Hirrin servants talking in hushed voices, bowing as Sen Ni passed. She gestured to one of them. “Geng De will be here soon. When he comes, bring him to me.” The navitar slept in his vessel at the foot of the bridge, but had planned to see her this Early Day for a show of religious instruction.

At Anuve’s quarters, she instructed Emar-Vad to knock. The door opened to a silent command inside, revealing Anuve in a chair in the center of the room, giving the impression she expected a visit.

A quick bow, as Sydney rushed to say, “What’s happening in the city, Bright Lady?”

Anuve’s long hand trailed over her skirt, adjusting it. “Retributions.”

Sydney turned to the Hirrin. “Wait outside, please, Emar-Vad.” When she was alone with Anuve, she tried to calm herself. This was her sway. She was mistress of the sway. If she hadn’t learned long ago in the stables to fight for position, she would never have survived.

“You have no permission to kill here.”

“Ah? Such permission is granted by whom?”

“By me.” The mantis lady considered this claim and the tone with which it was delivered.

Sydney went on, “How many are dead?”

“Some hundred sentients. Morts who gather in the undercity, pretending to worship the Red Throne, yet not deceiving us. They hate us. We have withheld our hand until now.”

Sydney could not suppress a growing outrage.
My sway. My people.
But she needed facts. “How can a lord have been murdered?” The thought of a Tarig’s murder, though never far from her mind, still startled her. For one thing, they were practically walking weapons themselves.

“A crowd came at my cousin with a knife.” Anuve added, “The lord pursued your father. Your father may have killed him, but if so, he was assisted by many sentients.”

“My father? You have him?”

“No.”

Sydney quelled any expression of relief. “We’ll have no more killing.”

Anuve rose, her voice lowering. “Mistress of the Sway, hnn? You think the Tarig are under your sway?”

“No. But if retributions happen, they won’t be in my sway.”

“The criminals abide in your sway. However, they are dying quickly, by Tarig mercy.”

A rap at the door, and Sydney, in her fury, snapped, “Enter,” though it was Anuve’s apartment.

Emar-Vad stood in the open door. He bowed, nodding in the direction of Geng De, who stood in the hall.

Anuve’s voice came low and smooth. “Perhaps spiritual sustenance will calm you. Let the navitar teach you.”

This pushed too far. Sydney swung around to the creature, saying, “No more deaths. One Tarig has died. In return, you took a hundred. Enough.”

“It is enough when Rim City achieves calm. It is not calm. Citizens have smashed property, people chant in the great Way. It shall become calm.”

Sydney advanced on Anuve, to make her words more forceful. From behind, a hand grabbed her. It was Geng De. Swinging around, Sydney jerked her arm away from him.

He pinned her with his gaze. “It does no good to provoke a gracious bright lady, Sen Ni. Come with me now.”

“The lady and I aren’t done.”

“Sen Ni, you must come away. Walk into the city. See for yourself.” He bobbed a bow to Anuve. “It is allowed for the mistress of the sway to walk abroad?”

Anuve could not object, nor did she.

Geng De’s fist closed around Sydney’s arm. The firm grip and a few moment of consideration had allowed her black anger to abate. She responded to the urgency in Geng De’s eyes.

She bowed at the Tarig. “Bright Lady.” Geng De pulled her from the room.

As they walked down the hall, Emar-Vad some paces behind them, Geng De murmured, “One future I saw last night is that Anuve slit your torso from throat to waist.” They headed to her quarters, as servants bowed very low indeed, avoiding her gaze. The palace staff had perhaps understood that when Sydney went to Anuve’s room with that look on her face, she might not emerge alive.

“I rushed to find you this morning.” Geng De cut a glance at her. “You should dress the part of the mistress of the sway. Hurry.”

Geng De had done well to restrain her display of temper. They had jockeyed over the last forty days for mastery of each other; both of them were stubborn and sure of themselves; she trusted that he had learned that he couldn’t control her. Today, his restraining hand had been welcome. She only wished that, if he could weave the future, he had woven one without a massacre of her people.

Outside her apartment she paused. “Are they still killing, Geng De?”

“Yes. I have seen blood, cries, and death. Here is our best chance.”

“So you’re glad of all this?” She gazed at the navitar, rotund and soft, and perhaps cruel as well.

“Wear something pretty,” he suggested, pushing her through the door.

Emar-Vad didn’t like the roughness and moved in on Geng De, shoving him.

The two faced off. Emar-Vad’s lips folded back to show the ejector in his mouth.

“Emar-Vad,” Sydney said quickly. “Help me dress.” Her attendant relaxed his lips and passed Geng De, entering her room. Sydney closed the door behind them. She rushed to her clothes chest for something to wear. Out came jade green pants and a heavily embroidered jacket, garb rich enough to proclaim her position.

Geng De had said such a day was near, when she would go into the Way at his side, and must look every inch the mistress of the sway. A day when many would die.
Will I die, Geng De?
she had asked. To which he responded,
I do not permit that future. But the binds make no promises.
The answer chilled her, but she liked that he was honest.