Dominion (49 page)

It didn't matter, because there was no one much to talk to anyway beyond the polite yet crisp staff in Nairene red, who were under strict orders from the Archmage to keep secret the fact that the fugitive Syl Hellais, and two wanted humans, were now recuperating under the care of the Sisterhood.

Paul remained comatose, and Syl had to remind herself continually that it was drug induced, and for his own good. Naturally she drifted in to see him, sometimes twice a day, sitting alone by his bedside, but he was oblivious to her presence, his eyelids closed, their skin blue-tinted and fragile but unmarked, unlike the rest of his face, which was crosshatched with welts and cuts. His nose was obviously smashed, as was the socket bone above his left eye, and his hair was shaved away, revealing a long, angry gash on the side of his head, but the rest of him was hidden beneath temperature-controlling sheeting. On her first visit, Syl had carefully pushed back a corner of the covers and found Paul's hand, but even that bore the scar of the burns that had been inflicted on him the last time he was on Erebos, and she swallowed hard as she stroked it, appalled at what had happened to him because of his contact with her people.

Tenderly, carefully, she felt for him with her mind, but he was heavily medicated, so that she found nothing but cool, blue light.

Thula was technically off-limits too. He remained in the rehabilitation wing of the facility and Syl was not allowed to visit him without protective clothing because the delicate rebuilding of his foot could be compromised by cross-contamination. Syl went to speak with him once or twice, but mostly she was content to wave at him through the thick window separating his room from the units, and chat with him over the intercom system. She tried not to wince when she saw the mangled stump of his leg, neatly crisscrossed with a cage of synthetic bone, and tubes pumping blood, but Thula appeared untroubled by it, and found the whole process fascinating. Lista was often with him, which Syl found . . . interesting. Lista always looked delighted to see Syl, greeting her enthusiastically, and Syl felt more than a little ashamed, for she had abused Lista's trust and good nature twice. At least Lista didn't hold grudges.

But it was Ani to whom Syl wished to speak more than any other. However, her old friend had left after their first conversation, promising she'd be back when Syl was stronger, but she had not returned.

“The Archmage has been called away on important business,” Velarit said briskly when Syl questioned her, but Syl wasn't entirely sure this was true. She had so many questions to ask, questions that Ani would doubtless be uncomfortable answering, and perhaps this was why she stayed away. It was more than frustrating. Syl wanted to know how her father was. She wanted to know about Earth, about Steven, about the war.

About the Others.

As her body grew stronger, she grew more fearful that her enemies would discover her presence on Erebos. She was entirely reliant on Ani's goodwill, and the discipline of the Sisters attending her, to prevent her from being taken by the Corps or the Securitats. She needed to get to the Marque, and she recalled Ani's invitation to return to the Sisterhood.

And then what? The Cayth believed that she had the power to destroy the Others, but they hadn't exactly been clear on how she might go about doing that. And if Ani was Archmage, then she must surely know about the beast in the bowels of the Marque, the creature Syl needed to get to. How, wondered Syl, could the Ani she used to know smile so peacefully and speak so calmly when that abomination was buried deep in Avila Minor, infecting the very heart of everything over which Ani reigned and about which she professed to care so much? Was she in league with it? Had she, like Syrene, struck a bargain with the Others?

Or was Ani herself perhaps infected by one of the parasites, a parting gift from Syrene before she so mysteriously retired? Syl had not sensed one of the creatures inside Ani, but Ani had registered her probing before she had time to get beyond superficial emotional responses. The very idea of her friend's possible contamination caused her to jerk awake, stomach churning and heart pounding, in the deepest hours of the long, dark nights. Syl desperately wished to know why Ani had replaced Syrene, and how—
how
? Once that became clear, so too might the steps she had to take.

As the days stretched on and Syl's body healed, her capacity for concentration grew, and she began to play quiet games with her mind, burrowing into the heads of the unwitting medical staff, collecting misshapen segments of the truth, like jigsaw puzzle pieces that she attempted to fit together into a picture that made sense. She gently asked questions too, seemingly innocuous or innocent, but the answers she received surprised her:

Syrene had declared to her Council of Confidantes her intention to relinquish the position of Archmage in favor of Ani Cienda. The news had been met with consternation, but Syrene would not be swayed, and confirmed that she intended to join the First Five in a life of isolation and contemplation. In the immediate aftermath, Ani had purged the Council of Syrene's supporters, demoting some, sending others into exile, and replaced them with Sisters whose loyalty to the new Archmage was not in question. Ani had also retained Syrene's handmaiden Cocile as an aide, along with loyal Lista, and she had two personal guards who were near her at all times, close and connected as shadows.

Yet none of it made sense: How had a young upstart like Ani risen to the top so quickly?

The answer, of course, must be because Ani could cloud minds, although when Syl had fled the Marque four years earlier, Ani's powers were still in the process of development. As one of Syrene's precious Gifted, she had been rigorously tutored, and encouraged to practice, and so it was probable that this training had continued—indeed, intensified—once the other Novices who possessed similar psychic abilities were all dead. Syrene must have invested all of her hopes in Ani, and all of her efforts. Perhaps Ani had ultimately become strong enough to manipulate the Archmage herself. In a piece of poetic justice, could Syrene have created the instrument of her own destruction?

The more Syl thought about it, the more she became convinced that she'd stumbled across something that looked like a seam of truth; it was insane, but somehow Ani had clouded her way into Nairene history.

•  •  •

That afternoon, Syl awoke from a nap to find Ani standing at the end of her bed, as though the Archmage had somehow become aware of the direction of Syl's thoughts. As Ani looked down on her friend with a concern that was almost motherly, Syl put her hypothesis to Ani, and asked if she had become Archmage through the use of her psychic gifts.

“You mean like this?” said Ani.

Syl felt a pang in her head, followed by a quiet, electrical buzzing, and Ani's image blurred before her. As Syl's vision refocused, the young Archmage shimmered out of view, and in her place stood Syrene, scarlet-robed, proud and terrifying, her overripe lips swollen to bursting point, her hairline shaved even farther back than before, the curlicued tattoos on her face squirming into her hair as if trying to escape the sharp gleam in her enormous eyes. Those orbs bored into Syl, and as she watched they enlarged and extended, turning black as if filling up with oil, and they grew deeper too, like caves burrowing into a mountain. The tattooed coils became a writhing infestation of thin, red snakes, and they turned and slithered out of the hair and back toward the hollow eyes, more and more of them, until the sockets became a tangled nest of vipers.

“No!” shouted Syl, and immediately Syrene was gone. Only Ani stood before her, looking slightly put out.

“Spoilsport,” she said. “I was just getting started.”

“You've grown stronger,” said Syl, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “So much stronger.”

“As have you, it seems,” replied Ani. “I sensed that you never once believed Syrene to be present. You knew what I was doing. Nobody else has been able to see through the illusions.”

They regarded each other carefully.

“Why did you come back here, Syl?” said Ani.

“I will tell you, if you first tell me what happened to Syrene. I want to know everything.”

Ani considered this, her head cocked to the side like a bird's, a gesture Syl had grown familiar with over many years, and then Ani sighed and sat herself down on the edge of the bed.

“I know I can trust you, Syl, if only because you hate the Sisterhood, and you hate Syrene, and they are the only ones who would benefit if you revealed the truth I'm about to share with you. Anyway, who would believe you?”

And so she told Syl all.

•  •  •

The light had changed by the time Ani's story was done, and Syl looked upon her friend with fresh eyes—a child before the adult that was the Archmage. What Ani had done, what she had achieved, was both extraordinary and somehow terrible. In her way, Ani was the most formidable Archmage yet. Trapped in the Marque with the One, Syrene and Priety must have understood that better than anyone.

“I wanted her to suffer as the First Five had suffered,” said Ani, speaking of Syrene, “but I also needed a channel of communication to remain open. The One is different. It's more powerful than the rest. The Others are embedded in Illyri society. By keeping the One alive, and linking it to Syrene, I thought that I could learn more about them.”

“And did you?”

“In a way. Syrene told me what the One wants.”

The room felt too small to Syl, too warm. She sensed the answer coming. Perhaps she had sensed it from the time of her first sighting of the One, and had heard it confirmed in the Cayth's prophecy, but had chosen to remain deaf to it.

“She says it wants you, Syl.”

•  •  •

There was silence for a time. It was Syl who broke it.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“About the One. And about me.”

“Hide your presence from it, of course, just as I've kept you hidden from the Corps and the Securitats. We've been lucky: their attentions lie elsewhere. A great battle is imminent, Syl, perhaps the last battle. The Military—or what's left of it—is preparing for an assault on Illyr. The Corps knows that the attack is coming, but not when, or where; it has marshaled its forces, but it can't strike until it knows the location of the Military fleet, and so far that has been kept secret. Dyer is in charge, not Krake. Dyer is the real power behind the presidential throne. He has help too, because Vena is by his side. She's now head of the Securitats, and she whispers in Dyer's ear from the other side of his bed.”

Syl blanched at the mention of her old enemy's name. Vena, who blamed Syl for the death of her former lover, Sedulus, had tried to have her killed on the Marque. Syl had presumed that Vena was still back on Earth. Actually, she'd been hoping that Vena might have died, preferably painfully.

“Together, Vena and Dyer have proved to be a considerable threat,” Ani continued, “and even my spies have struggled to infiltrate their lair, although some progress has recently been made. Whatever, the future of our society may well be decided in a matter of days.”

Ani put her head in her hands, as if carrying the weight of all she'd just said had been a heavy burden, and when she spoke again her voice was muffled.

“I can't predict the outcome, but I do know that it will be horrific. Countless lives will be lost, and at the end our true enemy will remain undefeated. The Others will prevail, and continue to contaminate whichever side triumphs.”

“And which of those sides are you on in all this?”

“I am on the side of the Sisterhood.”

“That's no answer, Ani.”

“Then I am on the side of the Sisterhood above all others, and after that I will ally myself with the just. The Corps and its allies have shown themselves unfit to rule. They have infected our race with an alien parasite, which, if it is allowed, will eventually consume us entirely, just as it has consumed life on Earth, and who knows how many other worlds. And—”

She paused.

“Go on,” said Syl. Tentatively, she made forays into Ani's thoughts, and saw a red wall of rage fractured by a fissure of fear.

“The Securitats are planning a move against the Sisterhood. It seems that I have goaded Vena for too long, and she has always had her eyes on the Marque. To seize control of the Marque, she will have to kill me. But I will not permit it to fall to one such as her. The Sisterhood will defend the Marque, and give what aid we can to the Military.”

Ani sat back in her chair.

“So,” she said, “here we are. I have bared my soul to you, but you have not bared yours to me.”

“You haven't told me everything yet,” said Syl. “You haven't mentioned my father.”

It was as though she had punched Ani, and the girl behind the tattooed mask of the Archmage was revealed once more.

“No. Syl, it's—”

“Just tell me.”

Ani couldn't meet Syl's eyes.

“I made a mistake,” she said.

“What mistake?”

“I underestimated Syrene. When I gave her to the One, I assumed that it would simply take her as it had taken Ezil and the rest of the First Five. But there was a link between the Other in her head and the parasite that had taken over your father. Maybe it was because he had become infected through Syrene, and the entity that had infected him was a product of its spores. It was her revenge, Syl. She couldn't harm me, and she couldn't get to you, but she could hurt him. She could hurt him so badly.”

Syl began to weep.

“She killed him, Syl. She instructed the Other in his head to destroy him along with itself, and it did. I'm so sorry.”

Syl turned her back on her friend, faced the wall, and let her grief overcome her.

T
he spies—the traitors—brought the news to Dyer at the Tree of Lights. The Military fleet was assembling at Myelen.