Limit of Vision (45 page)

We waited an hour, then we climbed back into the truck. The lapis gateway looked the same, but it was not. My father ordered the truck forward. “Brace yourselves,” he said. I grabbed the dash. Liam held on to the door. The wide front bumper struck the two pillars and the truck shuddered. Kedato ordered it to reverse. As we wheeled backward the pillars crumbled, launching a dense cloud of blue dust into the air as they collapsed in twin heaps of rotten stone. We put the windows up as Kedato drove the truck forward again, the fat tires climbing easily over debris that collapsed like chalk under our weight. The kobolds we had released would continue to process the rock to powder, so there would be no barrier to block the next convoy that came this way.

North of the Kavasphir Hills the land rose gradually through a country of dense brush bright with purple flowers and swarms of bees that kept pinging against the truck’s windshield as we followed a grassy track toward the highway. Copses of small-leaved trees grew in the gullies, their highest branches barely rising above the general grade of the land so that it looked as if they were hunkering down against an expected storm. The wind could blow fiercely off the Jowádela Plateau, but that day the air was hot and still. It was an ancient, weather-worn land, less subject to silver storms than either the plateau or the Kavasphir Hills—which was why it hosted the highway between Halibury and Xahiclan.

We reached the highway—a ribbon of textured white concrete just wide enough for two trucks to pass—near noon, and turned east, running at forty miles an hour on an easy grade. We slowed when a herd of pygmy horses bolted out of the brush and across the highway just in front of us, and again, when a jackal wandered onto the edge of the concrete, standing in the baking heat to watch us pass.

The jackal reminded me of Moki. Both dogs were the same size, though Moki, with his short back and red coat, was much handsomer. He’d become my dog since Jolly was taken, and I felt a pang of guilt for leaving him home, but ruins were often filled with hazards and I didn’t want him getting in trouble.

“Look,” Liam said, pointing ahead to where the road could be seen through a heat haze, swinging north in a wide loop as it climbed toward the Jowádela Plateau. A flash of sunlight on metal caught my eye.

“A convoy,” my father said.

Liam squinted past the windshield. “Three trucks, I’d say.”

My father nodded. “They’ll be on their way to Halibury, with a stay at Temple Kevillin tonight.”

My father would be staying at Temple Nathé. He expected to be in Xahiclan by early afternoon on the following day.

We watched the convoy approach and as it drew near we stopped for a quick exchange of news. The other drivers wanted to know if we’d had trouble. That was always the first question my father was asked because he didn’t drive in a convoy. Professional truckers won’t go out alone because a breakdown could leave them stranded on the road overnight, a predicament that would be fatal if the silver came. My father assured them we were fine, and invited them to stop at Temple Huacho, if they ever came that way again. They had stayed at Temple Nathé the night before, and they reported the highway to be in good condition all the way to Xahiclan.

We said good-bye, and a few minutes later the truck downshifted as we began the climb to the Jowádela Plateau. A call came in. I answered, and found my mother looking up at me in surprise from the mimic panel on the dash. “Jubilee? You’re still there?”

I nodded. My father planned to drop us off at the edge of Jowádela, another half hour at most. “We’re a little behind schedule,” I said. “There was a folly in the road. It took time to clear.” It occurred to me that she had called expecting me to be gone.

She looked over at Kedato. “Where are you, then?”

“Climbing to the plateau. Don’t worry, love. There’s plenty of daylight left. It’s these two”—he nodded at Liam and me—“who will be taking their chances.”

My mother looked at me again, her manner almost furtive. “Are you and Liam still going to see the ruins?”

“Of course. Mama, what’s wrong?”

She bit her lip. Then she looked again at Kedato and said, “We need to talk.”

Her worry leaped to him. “Tola, is something wrong? Are the children—”

“They’re fine. Nothing’s wrong. Kedato, I’ll call again later—”

“No. Jubilee, hand me the headphones.”

I didn’t like it, but I did as I was told, retrieving the headphones from a dash compartment and passing them to my father. He put them on. Then he shut off the mimic panel and stared grimly ahead at the white road, listening. Liam put his hand on my shoulder while I searched my father’s expression for some hint of what this call might be about. The last thing I expected to see was the grin that spread like dawn across his somber face. He said, “I’m
not
laughing.”

Liam and I exchanged a look of raised eyebrows.

“Tola,” Kedato went on, “this is not bad news . . . Yes, yes, of course . . . Yes, I’m going to tell her . . . No, I’m not worried. She’s a sensible girl, and there’s time . . . All right. I’ll have her call you later. I love you too. Good-bye.” He pulled off the headphones and tossed them on the dash, wearing a grin like a man who has just conceived his first baby.

“
What?
” Liam and I spoke the question at the same time.

Kedato shrugged, enjoying his moment. “The matchmaker has found a lover for Jubilee, that’s all.” Then he did laugh, while Liam and I stared, too stunned to speak.

His name was Yaphet Harorele and he was exactly my age, seventeen. My mother had seen a picture of him and reported that he was handsome. Most young men are.

“Your mother was reluctant to tell you the news,” Kedato explained, “because she was afraid you would take it into your stubborn head to run away, and it’s a dangerous journey. So the news is not all good. Though this boy is young and handsome, he lives very far away. Seventeen hundred miles away, in an enclave called Vesarevi. The northern reaches of the Plain of the Iraliad lie between you, and beyond that the Reflection Mountains. Crossing those wastes would make the shortest journey, but not the safest. The silver storms in the Iraliad are legendary. The worst in the world, some say. Better to journey north, to the coastal road. The way is long, but most of that road is reportedly in good shape . . . though at some points you’d have to travel by sea.” He sighed. “I traveled by sea only once. I would not want to do it again.”

“Neither would I,” Liam said darkly. “There’s no shelter from the silver there.”

Kedato nodded. His smile returned. “Well. You’re young, Jubilee. Too young, your mother says, and she’s right. We won’t allow you to go. Not now. And the boy’s father . . .” Kedato hesitated, a flush warming his dark cheeks. “Well, apparently the boy’s father is unwilling to let him travel at all. He has only this child—”

“Only one child?” I interrupted. I had never heard of any family with only one child.

“It’s what we were told. The mother is deceased. Some kind of accident, not long after the boy was born.”

“You mean after
Yaphet
was born,” Liam said, startling me with the sullen anger in his voice. “His name is Yaphet.”

Kedato looked at him, his expression carefully neutral. “You are happy for us, Liam?”

I felt my cheeks heat, and I did not want to be sitting between them just then. But Liam answered as he should. “Yes. Of course.”

“You’ll find your lover,” Kedato told him. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Liam turned to stare out the side window. I looked at the road ahead, conscious of his stiff back and my own fear.

My father was puzzled by our gloomy moods. “This is something to celebrate!” he insisted. “You should both come into Xahiclan with me. Jubilee? You’re a woman now. Come. Have fun.”

But Liam was already shaking his head, and I . . . Though I didn’t want to make my father unhappy, I could not bear the thought of facing the crowds in Xahiclan, and my father telling everyone I had a lover and the endless grins and the congratulations because I had won a boy I didn’t want and had never seen before. “I think . . . I think I need time to settle my mind, Daddy. Besides, I really did want to see these ruins before anyone else.”

Kedato chuckled. “You look as worried as your mother.” Then he squeezed my hand. “You’re a lucky girl, Jubilee. So lucky. I hope you know that.”

“
I do
.” Then I kissed his smooth cheek, and everything was right between us.

As we topped out on the plateau, the ruins came into view for the first time, and we all got out to look. The site was still many miles away across a rolling grassland, but there was no mistaking it. “Look at that!” my father exclaimed. “It’s an actual
city
.”

There was no other word for it. Standing on the bumper of the truck, I could see hundreds of low white buildings surrounding two white towers that thrust their spires up above the shimmering heat waves of midafternoon. Even Xahiclan was not two-thirds this size.

“Now I wish I was going with you.” Kedato said. “I’ve never heard of the silver returning a ruin so large.”

“So stay,” I urged him, suddenly aware we would not have many more years together.

“I can’t. There are shipments to make, and appointments to keep. Reputation is everything.”

Liam was rolling his bike down the ramp at the back of the truck. “So if there’s anything worth looking at, we’ll all three return here, as soon as you get back.”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s what we’ll do. You’ll come, won’t you, Dad?”

“Of course.” He put his arm around my shoulder. Liam had returned to the truck to get my bike. “I’ll miss you when you finally go, Jubilee.”

“Dad! I’m not going yet.”

“You’d better not.” We hugged. Then he spoke softly, so that Liam couldn’t overhear. “Your mother will send you Yaphet’s market address. He has yours. It’s only fair.”

I nodded. Then he was back in the truck, waving good-bye and ordering us to be careful. “I’ll be home in a week,” he promised, and I believed him, though I’ve learned since that promises are not always possible to keep.

Chapter 3

"Liam, are you angry?”

He was astride his bike, his sunglasses on so I couldn’t see his eyes.

He shrugged. “So. Maybe a little.” We had talked of wayfaring together when he was ready to return to the road. Now he would have to go on alone.

The afternoon was hot and still. There were no clouds, and the sky had been baked to a pale, pale blue. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” I said. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Don’t you dare complain, Jubilee. You’ve won the prize.”

So I had.

I looked out across the rolling plain of grass to the distant city shimmering in the heat. “I’ve never been anywhere, Liam. I’ve never done anything.”

“So go visit him. Go to live with him! That journey should give you all the adventure you’ll ever want.”

“I wish the matchmaker had found a lover for you instead.”

He sighed. “So maybe I’ll go with you when the time comes. Maybe there’ll even be someone there for me, and you and I, we’ll live close together. Kedato’s right, Jubilee. You have a lot of luck about you. Do you think it could stretch that far?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” It was a strange kind of luck I had; a kind that didn’t make me happy.

“Come on,” Liam said. “Let’s get going. It’s later than I like.” He nodded toward the city. “If those towers are accessible, we can stay in them tonight. But if not, it’s going to be a long run to Olino Mesa.”

I nodded. We would need to be in some kind of sanctuary by nightfall, in case the silver should rise. High ground was safest. If we could get into one of the towers we could camp on an upper floor, where we’d be beyond the reach of all but the worst silver storms. But if the towers were closed to us, we’d have to cross a hundred miles of wilderness to reach Olino Mesa, the only significant eminence on the plateau. Of course, even if we were forced to camp on the plain, the odds favored us, for in this country the silver still came only an average of one night in ten. But when it’s your life being gambled, one in ten odds are not so good.

I climbed onto my bike, balanced it, then kicked up the stand. “I hope Yaphet stays home, and that I’m the one to do the traveling.”

Liam grinned. “Your mother knew you’d feel that way. It’s why she didn’t want to tell you about Yaphet.” He touched his ignition and his bike whispered to life, a soft purr of pumps. “I don’t know anything about this boy of yours, Jubilee, but I can tell you that no father of mine would have been able to keep me home if I found a lover like you.”

I blushed, then looked down, fumbling at the ignition switch to start my bike.

“Put your glasses on,” Liam said.

I did. Then, in a small voice, I whispered my greatest fear. “What if I hate him?”

“It won’t matter.”

“Liam! Don’t say that.”

He studied me a moment through his dark sunglasses. Then he turned back to the city. “It’ll be all right for you, Jubilee. Don’t worry. But it’s late. We need to go.”

The plateau was a softly undulating land, covered in crisp brown, waist-high grasses that hid the dry streambeds riddling its surface like cracks in the glaze of a dropped dinner plate. We followed the drainages when we could—that way at least we couldn’t fall into them—but the dry streams meandered in lazy paths while we knew our destination. So we spent the better part of an hour stirring up clouds of dust as we slid in or climbed out of a chaos of shallow gullies. We disturbed a few rabbits and a small herd of ankle deer, but it was a blue hawk, drifting overhead, that marked our arrival at the city.

We stopped just short of a stark boundary. The grasslands of the plateau ran up against the gleaming white stone of low buildings separated by equally white streets that looked as if they had been sliced off from outlying neighborhoods by some great knife. Stark, brilliant white was the color of every surface, even the shingled rooftops, which caught the sunlight and split it apart, so that the buildings were haloed in a rainbow glow. Despite its weight, despite its great size—the city was larger by far than the enclaves of Halibury and Xahiclan together—it had about it a sense of impermanence as if it might melt in a rain, or crumble in a drying wind, or vanish overnight into another silver flood like the one that had created it. It made me think of some gigantic fancy of sugar crystal. I wondered if it might really be sugar, or salt. When we advanced to the city’s edge I tasted a wall, but it was not.

Many of the buildings looked as if they’d been reworked by silver, perhaps many times, before the whole city was finally taken. Their walls were melted, the white stone puddled in round lenses that sent dancing heat shimmers rising into the baking air. Liam looked grim as he surveyed the damage. “If the silver touched only the outlying buildings at first, then the residents might have had time to get away before the final flood came.”

That was the way history described the erosion of an enclave. A failing temple could not produce enough kobolds to ward off the silver. As the defensive perimeter thinned, silver would creep over the walls, licking first at the outlying buildings, then moving deeper into the city’s heart on each subsequent night. Only someone with a death wish would stay to meet it.

Our world had existed for thousands upon thousands of years. That was clear from the fragmented histories that had come down to us, but most of the past was lost, washed away by time and silver floods. Uncounted enclaves have vanished from the world and no one now remembers their names. I could not guess what city this might have been, or how long its memory had been preserved in the silver before it was finally rebuilt by the flood. Perhaps it had been swallowed up only yesterday, in some far land on the other side of the world. Or perhaps it had existed in an epoch recalled by no one for a thousand years.

I walked along the city’s perimeter, gazing down the narrow streets, each much like the one before it. Nothing moved among the buildings that I could see, not even birds.

Choosing a street at random we entered the city, walking our bikes between ornate buildings three and four stories high, their arched windows sealed with panes of clear glass. Heat reflecting off the street and the buildings had sent the temperature soaring, even above the oppressive heat of the open plateau. It might have been a hundred ten degrees in that little street. Sweat shone on my bare arms and shoulders, and my sunglasses weren’t nearly dark enough.

We tried the doors on several buildings, but none of them could be opened. They were like decorative panels—imitation doors cast in the same pour of stone that had made the walls. We peered through the windows but saw only barren rooms. There was no furniture, no shelves, no art of any kind. No books. Each sealed room appeared empty and pristine. “As if no one ever lived here,” Liam muttered.

Then we found a building with double doors standing open. They were false doors like all the others, part of the solid block of the house so that they could not be swung shut, but at least we could get inside.

I entered, hoping the open doors would mean this house had a different history from all the rest, but I was disappointed. The rooms were as empty as those we’d seen through windows. We wandered the house, looking into every open room and climbing the stairs. All the walls, all the floors, and even the ceiling were made of the same white stone. The only other element was the glass in the windows, but the windows would not open. There were no plumbing fixtures, no panels for lights, no mechanism for electricity. The monotony was unsettling, as if we had stumbled onto a stage set being prepared for some terrible drama.

“There’s no point in doing a house-to-house,” Liam said, “if all the houses are like this.”

I nodded. Already I was hungering for some color other than white. “Let’s find the towers.” We needed to know if we could spend the night here, or if we would have to move on.

So we returned to the street, and rode swiftly for the city center.