Empyrion II: The Siege of Dome (30 page)

“Rohee had many of them placed around the Hage. It fell to Hladik to maintain them. It is one of the things I was responsible for—making certain they were always ready. If Jamrog hasn't moved them ...” He stared out into the mottled darkness, eyes scanning the shadowed jumble of the waterfront before them. Kyan lapped the pilings and riffled in the shallows. “This way,” said Fertig, starting away. “I think there is one near here.”

Treet and Ernina followed the former Subdirector along the waterfront and came to the Saecaraz dockyard. Row upon row of boats chained for the night to fibersteel rings set in the dock let Treet know that they would have had a very difficult time getting a boat here. But Fertig led them away from the dock, turning back toward the Hageblocks for a short distance until he came to a flat-roofed building with a double-wide unidor.

Fertig went to the door and pressed the code into the lighted tabs. The unidor snapped off with a crack as an interior light blinked on. There before them was a silver em with two rear seats. “Our spirit guides are with us tonight,” called Fertig as he leaped into the driver seat. “This one Rohee used to take him to and from his boat.”

The em rolled out of its nook on squashy tires. Ernina climbed into the seat beside Fertig, and Treet piled into the one behind. “Home, James,” he said.

“Can you get us to Chryse?” asked Ernina.

“Yes. We could follow the Riverwalk, but I know a better way.”

“What about checkpoints? The Nilokerus have been alerted; they will be looking for us by now.”

“Don't worry. There will be no checkpoints.”

The em jerked away and they were off, rolling soundlessly along the Riverwalk. Treet watched the blurred shapes of trees ripple past and the occasional light across the river dance over the silent water. The air in his face felt good; he slid down in the seat and closed his eyes.

He awoke again as the em jolted to a stop. They were sitting in a narrow street with tiered kraams pressing in on either side. Ahead was a deserted arcade with a few empty kiosks. The place had a gritty, stained appearance. Clearly, they were no longer in Saecaraz. “What is it?” asked Treet, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“Invisibles,” whispered Fertig. “I saw three of them cross just ahead of us.”

“Where are we?” He turned his head around. The dome overhead showed dull charcoal, and there were few stars showing. He had slept a good while then, but it seemed only an instant and he was still exhausted.

“We're in Jamuna Hage,” replied Ernina, “near the border of Chryse. It's only a little way now.”

Treet sat in the back and rubbed his face. He felt as if he had been pulled apart and reassembled backwards, every joint out of place and wrong. They waited a few minutes, and then Fertig said, “I think we can go now.”

The em rolled out into the arcade and headed for a street angling off into deep Hage. They reached the street and heard the shout simultaneously. A split second later a portion of the pavement sprouted flame, and rock splinters scattered. Fertig raced ahead and turned off the street at first opportunity. Treet, white-knuckling the handgrips and watching their rear, saw two Invisibles appear in the street behind them, raise weapons—and then they were taken from sight by Fertig's quick turn.

“We're at the border,” said Fertig as they raced down narrow, twisting streets. “There is a checkpoint just ahead—”

“Go right on through,” said Treet. “Don't even slow down.”

“But—”

“They know we're here now. And it's close to dawn. We've got to find that entrance soon. I say run the checkpoint.”

Fertig nodded and grimly pressed his foot to the floor. The em was not built for speed, and with three passengers it would never set any land speed records, but Fertig coaxed the little vehicle to a respectable pace and they whisked through the empty Jamuna streets and out into a section of terraced fields of brown sludge overset with dingy towers. “Oohh! Smell that,” said Treet, tears rising to his eyes. “Ammonia!”

Past the fields rose a wall of stone brick topped by a high curtain of fibersteel panels. A great arch was cut in the wall allowing the road to pass through. Directly ahead was a Nilokerus checkpoint with a gate. Two Nilokerus stood by the gate and one inside the booth, all three apparently asleep on their feet.

The em whizzed toward the gate and the oblivious guards. The fugitives were barely ten meters away before the first guard awoke and sounded the alarm. The em crashed through the gate, shoving it into the booth as the two gate guards stood gaping. They yelled and then ran after the em, but it was too fast, and they stopped. As an afterthought they pulled out their weapons to fire halfheartedly at the receding vehicle.

“We did it!” crowed Treet. Fertig grinned glassily, his hands tight on the steering bar. “Masterful job, Fertig old stick! We're rolling now.”

They were rolling, but not for long. The entire front end of the em started rattling, and then vibrating, and then shaking as if it would fly to pieces. Fertig allowed the machine to coast to a stop, got out, and stared at the left front tire.

“I knew it was too good to last,” sighed Treet as he surveyed the flat tire. “We must have picked up part of the gate.”

“It doesn't matter,” replied Ernina gazing at the landscape. “The entrance is near.”

Treet followed her gaze. Chryse was as different from Jamuna and Saecaraz as Fierra from Dome. Even in the gloom Treet could see that Hage Chryse had a symmetry of design that set it apart. He remembered his last and only visit to the Hage when Calin, his magician guide, had brought him here. A double-barbed pang of guilt and grief pierced him at the thought.

“We should get this thing off the road,” said Treet.

Fertig climbed back in and drove away, limping down the hillside to a clump of droopy-limbed trees. He drove the em into the trees and emerged a moment later, hurrying back up to the road. Ernina strode away in the opposite direction, climbing the nearest hill. Treet and Fertig followed, and soon they were walking parallel to the towering border wall.

The dome above grew lighter, graying with the sunrise. The hills of outer Chryse took on shape and definition; color seeped into the landscape. White moundlike structures emerged out of the murk away to the left. On the right, green hemispheres of hills met the wall, which stretched in a long, slow curve toward deep Hage.

Ernina pressed ahead at a nimble pace, and soon they came to a place where the sculptured hills ended and Chryse Hageworks began. Picking their way among the scattered structures, the three paused often to allow Ernina to study their position. “They say there is an old air conduit beneath a broadcast antenna—from before the Old Section was abandoned,” she said, gazing around her at the huddled conglomeration of buildings crammed together in the carved-out bowl of the hillside.

“Why was the Old Section abandoned?” wondered Treet.

“No one knows,” said Ernina. “It was many Supreme Directors ago.”

“Some say it was destroyed long ago and no longer exists,” offered Fertig. “Others say it was taken over by the Fieri and they sealed it. They were left alone, and no one went there after that.”

“Hmmm,” Treet said. Doubtless there was something in what Fertig said, although most likely he had it reversed. The Fieri were probably driven back or quarantined in the Old Section and the section sealed to prevent their escape or to keep them separated from the rest. Then again, the Old Section may have had some lingering bad associations with the Red Death and had become psychologically uninhabitable. “Are you sure this is the place? I don't see any antenna.”

“Here somewhere, yes,” replied Ernina. With that, she moved down the hill and entered the Hageworks, keeping the border wall to her left as she pushed deeper into the Hage. Chryse appeared as if it had been designed by inebriated gnome architects. Squat mushroom-shaped structures, large and small, sprang from the scooped-out grassy bowl. The streets were pink, paved footpaths winding through arches and walls and around the smooth, white-stuccoed buildings in almost whimsical fashion, making it difficult to proceed with any kind of haste. The dome grew brighter as dawn came on; the fugitives' efforts became more desperate.

“Maybe we should find a place to hide out,” offered Treet at one point. “We could lay low until nightfall and take up the search again.” He looked around at all the Hageblocks and imagined Chryse pouring out of them at any moment to start the day's work. “We don't want to be caught out here.”

“It's near,” insisted Ernina.

“Sure,” agreed Treet. “But it might take a little more time to find than we dare spend right now. I still don't see anything that looks like an antenna. We should have seen it long ago if it was close by.”

Fertig stood a little way off, listening. He broke in, saying, “Shh! Someone is coming.”

Due to the ensnarled pattern of arches, pathways, and walls, it was difficult to tell where the sound was coming from, but Fertig was right: the shush of many feet on the pink stone pavement told them someone was coming quickly their way.

“Invisibles,” muttered Treet. “We've got to get out of here.”

“This way,” said Fertig, leading them through the nearest archway into a narrow street lined with round kraam entrances like mouse holes.

There they waited, peering around the smooth white arch to see a ragged man, the tatters of his clothes flying as he came. He paused, glanced around quickly, and then signaled to others behind him. Then there came a creaking sound, as if a heavy machine were being pulled along with leather straps.

Presently a troop of men, each as disheveled as the next—like deserters of a bedraggled army—came into view pushing Hyrgo wagons loaded to bursting with sacks of grain. The wheels of the wagons were wrapped with sacking.

“Dhogs!” whispered Ernina, her eyes lighting up. “We can follow them.”

Treet watched as one grain wagon disappeared down the next street, followed by another, and then another. With the fourth wagon came a rear guard—two Dhogs and two others. One of these turned toward them, and Treet jumped out from behind the arch. “Tvrdy!”

It was a foolish move. Instantly the procession froze. Weapons whipped around, and he would have been flash-fried if the quick-thinking Tanais Director had not intervened.

“Wait!” Tvrdy cried, throwing wide his hands.

Treet gulped. What have I done, he thought? I'm wearing Nilokerus colors. He doesn't recognize me.

Tvrdy approached. The Dhogs stared. No one moved.

The Tanais came to stand directly in front of Treet; he stared into his eyes. Recognition came slowly. “Traveler!” Tvrdy said, breaking into a wide grin. “You have returned at last. I thought you dead.”

“It's good to see you, too,” replied Treet.

Tvrdy turned and signaled to the others to move on quickly. “There are Invisibles after us,” Tvrdy explained. “We cannot talk now. Come with us.”

“We'd be glad for the escort. The Invisibles are after us, too. We're looking for the entrance to the Old Section.”

“We?” A light leapt up in his eyes.

Treet motioned for Ernina and Fertig to come out of hiding. “It's all right,” Treet said. “They're going our way.”

The stocky physician stepped confidently out from behind the arch, followed by Fertig, looking none too certain about his reception. Tvrdy eyed them both, disappointed. “Ernina, sixth-order Nilokerus physician, I believe.” She inclined her head, and Tvrdy glanced at Fertig slinking up. “Ah, another Nilokerus! Defection makes our numbers swell.”

“They helped me,” said Treet. “Ernina saved my life, and Fertig kept us out of reach of the Invisibles.”

Tvrdy nodded curtly. “Perhaps he can do the same for us one day.” He waved, and the wagon creaked into motion once more. Treet and the others fell in behind the wagon, and the Dhogs led them through the still silent streets. At one point, the procession surprised a Chryse, sleepy-eyed and yawning, who was just stumbling out of his kraam. The man stood gawking for a moment before it dawned on him that he was seeing something highly illicit, then closed his eyes and scuttled back into his kraam.

Before the raiding party could encounter any more Chryse, they reached the further edge of the bowl and a deserted district where a cluster of gutted shells of buildings formed a boundary to the Hageworks. And there, behind this boundary, lay the long, collapsed skeleton of the antenna.

They pushed between two of the empty hulks and found that the Dhogs had rolled their wagons up to the foot of the antenna, which at one time stood atop a low embankment. On one side of this embankment was a large oval louver panel. As Treet watched, the panel was pried open and the first of the wagons hauled inside the giant air duct.

Ernina, Fertig, Treet, and Tvrdy were the last to go in. Fertig and Tvrdy tugged the louver down and secured it from the inside. And then Tvrdy hurried to where Treet and the others waited in the darkness of the conduit. “A night's work done,” he said. “I hope not wasted.”

For Yarden, the days
settled into a routine of pleasure. She awoke to silver mornings of tranquil meditation and convivial breakfasts with her shipboard companions. Then she spent the next hours totally absorbed in her painting exercises, standing with her easel at the rail, face scrunched in concentration as she labored to achieve fluidity of motion in the controlled line. Her afternoons were taken with Gerdes' classes under the orange canopy on the aft deck of the ship. Evenings found her alone, watching night sweep over the fair landscape, talking with Ianni, or taking in Fieri entertainment under the bright Empyrion stars.

And always, the wide enchanting countryside slid by the rail: hills alive with exotic wildlife; thick, luxuriant vegetation blanketing the land and encroaching on the river's edge; mountains, blue-misted in the distance, rising up to crown the tumbling hills with cool supremacy. Empyrion was paradise—a vast, unspoiled paradise.

She slept well at night and emerged fresh in the morning to begin another day just like the one before. And each morning as she came on deck to greet the day, she felt born anew. Such was life among the Fieri. They were, Yarden was learning, not only gentle, peaceable people, but they were also nimble-witted, and possessed of an insatiable appetite for jokes and humorous stories of all kinds.