Empyrion I: The Search for Fierra (33 page)

“You were …,” she hesitated, “in there?” She looked back. The temple was out of sight behind the sword-leafed trees.

“No; we saw you go in and waited for you to come out. There are people who want to see you. They are your friends, too. They asked us to bring you. It isn't far.”

What would Bela say? she wondered. But at the thought she realized Bela did not care for her. When had she ever seen concern in
his
eyes? She remembered the wafer he had given her that morning. Had she taken it, she would have been incapable of resistance; she would have given in, become one of them.

“Will you go with us now?”

Yarden nodded. She had nothing to fear from these people. She could trust them far more than she could trust Bela. “Yes, I will go with you.”

Then they were hurrying along secluded walkways, heading toward the winding river and away from Chryse deep Hage. Yarden kept pace willingly, though she had no idea where she was being taken. Whatever their destination, it would be safer than remaining with Bela and the others. Friends … safety—the words lifted the edges of the darkness that lay upon her soul. She felt her heart quicken with hope as she hurried on.

Through
the labyrinth of Saecaraz deep Hage, up and up through the levels, out across terraces, past Hageworks and many-windowed kraam blocks, over connecting skywalks and through deserted market squares the fugitives ran toward snaking Kyan. Their flight was fast but measured, their progress sure. There was a purpose to the apparent aimlessness of their trail, which Treet decided was to confuse any pursuit.

When they reached the rimwalk at the river's edge, they paused at a clump of tall bushes with long, feathery yellow branches which arched up gracefully to twice a man's height. From a hiding place within the cluster of brown stalks, one of the guides tugged out a concealed bundle, opened it, and passed out black-and-gold yoses. He stripped off the Nilokerus garment and slipped on the new one.

“Tanais,” said Calin. “I cannot wear this.”

“Wear it,” said the first guide flatly. “A Tanais boat will come by here in a few moments carrying only Tanais. It will pick up three
or
four Hagemen—you decide.”

“Hold on! Are you threatening her?” Treet turned on the man, his head half in the yos. He pulled it down and glared defiantly. “I won't have it.”

The man returned Treet's glare icily. The other guide spoke up. “He is merely saying what must be. It is a Tanais boat and will carry only Tanais. If she will not come—” His glance flicked to his comrade's hand beneath the yos.

“You'd kill her? Like you killed those other two back there?”

“We'd have no choice. She has seen—she knows!”

Treet saw how it was. Their escape route was set up to handle few variables and no surprises. “Well?” Asked the guide. “The boat is coming.”

“For crying out loud, Calin, get that thing on!” said Treet, snatching the yos from the man's hands and shoving it at the magician. When she hesitated, he took it and yanked it down over her head. She did not resist. “There. It just isn't worth getting killed over, okay?”

Calin gave him a dark look, but remained silent.

“All right, we're ready,” said Treet. “What next?”

“This way,” replied the second guide, shoving the Nilokerus yoses into the bushes.

They continued on along the rimwalk, with the gray river to the right, the long elegant steps of terraces to the left. Soon they came to a place where the rimwalk dipped down close to the water as the river crawled around a sharp bend. “Over here,” said the first guide, scrambling over the stone breastwork.

Treet dropped over the edge and landed on his feet. The boat, a square-nosed barge of medium size riding low in the water, rounded the bend and came directly toward them. Four Tanais Hagemen stood idly on deck. But as the boat neared the shore, the four sprang forward and produced a short gangway which they pushed out over the nose. As soon as it was close enough, the first guide leaped onto the plank. Calin scurried aboard, the second guide close behind her. Treet followed, and no sooner did the boat touch the bank than the engines reversed, and it pulled away again. As the boat drew away from the shore, the four who had been standing idly on deck ran out onto the gangway and jumped to the bank, the last one barely clearing the water's edge.

A complete exchange, thought Treet. Very tidy. And all in less than ten seconds.

He looked around and noticed that this bend was fairly well hidden from the rest of the river. Also, a boat disappearing around the bend would be out of sight from the opposite shore until it emerged again on the other side. No doubt the place had been carefully chosen for that very reason. Every detail had been thought of—right down to the passenger exchange. These people were definitely not taking any chances.

Treet remembered the two dead bodies and grimly reminded himself that the stakes were very high. How many more people would die before this was over? Just what had he gotten himself into? He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the scenery slide by as the boat pulled itself back out into deep water and continued on around the bend.

They traveled against the current for a few kilometers, Treet guessed, before they entered a different Hage. He knew at once when they entered it by the change in architecture. He recognized the shapes of the buildings—tall, spire-shaped edifices with flying buttress arches—but couldn't remember its name.

“Calin,” he said to the magician beside him. She had not said a word since setting foot on the boat. “Where are we?”

“Tanais Hage.”

Was that resignation or despair making her voice so hollow? Treet turned and regarded her more closely. “What's wrong?”

“I am dead.”

Her response startled him, and he laughed. “You're what?
Dead?
What are you talking about? There's not a scratch on you.” The mirth went out of his voice when he saw the bleak futility in her dark eyes. “You're serious.”

She did not answer, but stoically gazed out across the water.

“Calin, I know there's an awful lot I don't understand. But you're going to have to explain this to me. Are you afraid you can't go back?”

Tears misted over her voice. “I can never go back. When the Saecaraz discover what I have done, I will be erased. And the Tanais will not allow me to stay—I am a Saecaraz magician!”

She sounded so forlorn that Treet put his arm around her shoulders and held her to him. “Look, nobody is going to erase you.” He realized how silly that sounded, but he was sincere. “I really don't think we have anything to worry about.”

Actually, there was plenty to worry about, as Treet well knew. The deaths of the two Nilokerus and his own disappearance would not, in all likelihood, establish him further in the Supreme Director's good graces. Calin had a point: they
couldn't
go back.

Without his knowing it, he had booked them on a one-way flight. No return. Treet thought about this for a moment as he stood with his arms around the frightened magician. Then, as there was nothing he could do about any of it, he shrugged and held Calin out at arm's length. “I won't let anything happen to you, okay?” She pulled away and went to stand by the rail.

She was still standing there when the boat entered the Tanais marina. It was a semicircular jetty extending into a cove which had been carved out alongside the river. At least thirty other boats, large and small, were docked, and several more were at that moment entering the cove with them. Both the wide, curving dock and the waterfront area beyond were crowded with people milling about.

Treet saw the plan at once: pull in with three or four other boats—each, he noticed, with four passengers visible on deck— and lose yourself in the crowd. Anyone following or watching would be pressed in the extreme to catch their trail. Obviously some careful thought and planning had gone into this operation. Yes, the stakes
were
high—maybe higher than he realized.

The boat slid into an empty berth alongside another craft of the same design. A third boat nosed in beside them on the other side, and twelve passengers disembarked at once to meld with the idle confusion on the dock. Single-file, they threaded their way through the ambling crowds on the waterfront. At the far side of the wharf they paused and allowed a group of four to move ahead of them and disappear down a shadowed walkway leading to deep Hage.

When the first group had gone, they moved on again, and after a few level changes, the entering and leaving of many dwelling blocks, and a long wait in a dark tunnel while one of their guides went ahead to make sure the way was clear, they arrived at a generous plaza bordered on one side by a small lake with a fountain bubbling up in its center. Gently-sloped green lawns ringed the lake on every side, and around it grew lollipop trees which cast nets of white-flowered vine into the water.

Mirrored in the lake was an imposing structure made up of several independent sections clustered around a tall central tower and joined together at the upper levels with airborne walkways. The plaza and lakeside, like the dock and waterfront, swarmed with people wandering in groups of three or four. The guides struck off along a path that wound around the lake, eventually arriving at the plaza to lose themselves once more in the human maze.

Once across the square they wasted no time in entering the central tower, where they ran through an enormous hall over a highly polished floor to dive into a lift. The four crammed into the lift—clearly designed for one or two passengers—and up they went.

Treet lost count of the levels, but guessed that when the lift slowed, they were somewhere near the top. The barrier field withdrew, and Treet stepped out into a spare but spacious kraam. Standing in the center of the room were two figures, one of which he recognized.

“Well, well, Pizzle! Long time no see.”

“Treet? Orion Treet, is
that you?” Pizzle bleated uncertainly.

At first Treet thought Pizzle had suffered brain damage, judging by the way he squirmed and squinted, but then realized the bookworm was not wearing Z. Z. Papoon's glasses. Treet stepped forward. “Yours truly, at your service. You okay?”

“I lost my glasses,” said Pizzle, smiling broadly. “But it's not so bad. I'm getting used to it.”

“So I see.” Treet returned the smile and added a handshake and a slap on the back for good measure. He never in a trillion years would have dreamed he'd be so glad to see that homely, gnome-faced grin. He stood beaming and patting Pizzle's back as if he'd contracted a mild case of idiocy, and then noticed the man standing behind Pizzle. “Who's your friend?”

The man came forward, lips pursed, hands folded with fingers interlocked. He nodded to the two guides, who climbed back into the lift and vanished. “I am Tanais Director Tvrdy,” announced the man. “We have been waiting for you.”

Pizzle saw the look of cool appraisal Treet gave the Director and piped up, “You can trust him, Treet. He saved me. They were giving me psilobe—a kind of mind drug—and he got me off it. He wants to help us. Honest.”

Treet glanced back at Calin, who still lingered near the lift. She looked like a small, defenseless animal that had been cornered by a much larger animal and now had given up, resigning itself to more powerful jaws. He decided to dismiss the polite formalities and get directly to the point. “They said you'd tell me about my friends. Here's Pizzle. Where are the other two?”

“The woman, Talazac, is on her way here now. I expect her to arrive with the hour. Crocker has been hurt and cannot yet travel. He has been removed to a place of safety. You can go to him if you like, but I would advise against it. You might be caught.”

Treet appreciated the straight answer. He relaxed. “What's going to happen to us?”

Tvrdy appeared to consider the question carefully, looking at each one of them in turn. Finally he said, “I do not know. Much depends on your willingness to help us.”

“Help you do what?”

“Help us save Empyrion,” he said simply.

Jamrog
and Hladik reclined together over a tiny round table in Jamrog's kraam, sipping the fiery souile from small round ceramic cups gripped between thumb and forefinger. Jamrog's Hagemate, a supple young woman in a filmy Hagerobe of radiant saffron, knelt between them with a ceramic jar over a warming flame, pouring more hot souile whenever their cups became empty.

Hladik let his eyes wander over the luxurious interior, coveting all he saw: vibrant Bolbe hangings and floorcoverings of intricate design, fine antique artifacts from Empyrion's Second Age, sleek furnishings of rare wood, exquisite Chryse metal carvings— two of them erotic pieces executed nearly lifesize. His envious gaze came to rest on the comely form of the young woman kneeling beside him. He smiled, his lips a straight line bending at the corners. “You live well, Jamrog. I commend you also on your good taste in companions.”

Jamrog lifted a caressing hand to his Hagemate's flawless cheek. “If you find her to your liking, Hladik, take her,” he said absently. The woman lowered her eyes.

“Be careful. I might accept your offer.” Hladik made his tone light, but glanced greedily at the woman's curves beneath the transparent Hagerobe.

Jamrog let his hand fall away. His angular face hardened in a fierce smile. “I would be insulted if you refused, Hageman. Take her—I give her to you.”