The Sheening Of The Blades (Book 1) (85 page)

Well, that was sobering.  He thought a little guiltily and without so much jealousy of the steel-scarred arms and torso of the man he
’d thought of as a friend for months now.  “You think they’ll make it in time to warn everyone?”

“Yes,” she said immediately.  “That was why they were with you, so that they would be there to learn of the Enemy
’s plans.”

She didn
’t even have to say it:  that was the way Il worked. 

They walked on through the unchanging passageways, very regular now, even the walls smoothed.  There hadn
’t been an intersecting passage since that first day, and they were so numbed by the monotony that they almost walked right by it.  No opening, no outcropping, no recess, nothing marked it as any different from all the endless rock walls they’d been staring at forever.  If Selah had had her face turned away or wasn’t paying attention, they would never have caught it, but as it was, she came to a stop.  Ari slowed, looking over at her curiously.  Brows knitting, she backed up, staring at the wall.  She walked back and forth in front of it twice.  Nothing.  She motioned to him, and Ari obediently passed in front of the same stretch.

Immediately, the red light flashed into his eyes.  They looked at each other, awed at how close they
’d been to walking right by it.

“Is this it?” he asked.  He didn
’t even know what ‘it’ was, he just knew they’d come within a hair’s breadth of missing it.  In the wall, the typical seamless door was slowly sliding open, letting out some very stale-smelling air.

“Let
’s find out,” she answered quietly, and slipped in ahead of him before he could stop her.  As soon as she passed through the aperture, dim lighting appeared.  Close on her heels, Ari swiveled his head nervously, looking for the source.  There were no lamps, no torches…it seemed to come from a couple of spots on the ceiling, but there were no protrusions or indications of what was making it. 

It wasn
’t a big room.  Some smooth, black material, like night seen through glass, blocked off the three sides of the room facing them, while the wall the door had been set in was just normal rock.  Selah, looking around, was scanning the rock wall just to their left when a disembodied voice suddenly said sternly:

“Who is there and what do you do in these chambers?”

Ari jumped, head swinging around on his neck.  Selah turned very slowly, a look of wonder on her face—not to be confused with pleasure—as she gazed searchingly at the black floor-to-ceiling modules.

“It is I, Karmine,” she said slowly, “a servant of Il.”

“ILLIAN WITCH!” another voice roared suddenly, with overtones so characteristic of Merrani that if Ari hadn’t been so nervous he would have laughed.  It was like Banion was in the room.

“What are
you
doing here?” yet another voice said, this one with an odd, soft accent.  Selah was walking into the space in the center of the modules now, head bent as if she could see through them at something on the floor.  Since there was still no sign of anybody, just these voices rattling off his eardrums, Ari moved warily to see what she was looking at.

“We have felt the disturbance of Raemon
’s quarters,” the original voice said, a crisp, powerful voice used to command, “but there was more destruction than I would have thought possible if you have come all this way into the Sheel.”

“I have come seeking you,” Selah said, voice soft as velvet, strong as steel, full of meaning that Ari didn
’t even understand.  He drew even with her and saw, looking down, that there was a sign plate at about the level of his knees in the dark glass.  The letters were strange, oddly formed and barely recognizable, but he thought it said,
Christopher Merrick.

Was it code?  There was a light growing in Selah
’s eyes, the strong, stirring light he knew from the Hall of Sacrifices.  Had the words meant something to her?  She moved away, and he glanced into the module directly opposite the door.  Sure enough, another sign, after a second’s effort, revealed the words,
Paul La Chald.
Ari paused, suddenly aware of the heavy beating of his heart, of the stillness of the room, of Selah beginning to speak a yard or so away.  A suspicion—an impossible thought—was occurring to him.  It had to be coincidence.

“We care nothing for what you wish,” the angry voice that sounded like Banion sneered, and Ari, hyper-alert, noticed a red light flash in the next module along the right wall.  Slowly, because he wasn
’t sure he wanted to know, he moved over to read the small sign there at the same level as the others…and felt the world spin unsteadily under his feet.

Pietr van Goth.

He took several deep breaths.  He had no idea what all this meant, but he felt to the bottom of his toes that it wasn’t good.  Even more hesitantly, only listening with half an ear to the conversation filling the room, he moved to the last of the black modules.

“I am not here of my own will, but of Another
’s,” he heard Selah saying dimly, and the loud, scathing answer, “We care nothing for your god, either, witch.  We’ve heard that tired old story before—the tune hasn’t changed and he’s no more real here than he was before.”

“Real?” Selah said in wonder, “Il is not real?  Like, you mean,
you
are real?”

There was silence for a second, and Ari reached the last sign.  And he read it.  And then he began to wish he was anywhere but here and dread settled like a great weight in his chest and Rheine
’s words began to make a little more sense.  The sign spelled out
Raymond Paran.

“No god is real,” the voice belonging to Vangoth said, at the same time that the light, accented voice said rather defensively, “We did not make ourselves gods.”

“You have no right to be here, no need of this knowledge, and no prerogative to question us,” the clipped voice overpowered the other two.  “I suggest you leave.  You might find tangible gods more of a challenge than the one you’ve made up,” he said dryly.

“So you DO consider yourselves gods—after giving such lip service to the idea that no such thing exists,” Selah challenged.  “You claim to be the very thing you have despised, the
concept that you took so much trouble to make sure did not survive the Upheaval…”

Ari was sure there was surprise in the sudden silence that followed.  Or maybe it was just him.  What was she talking about?

“They made us gods!” the soft voice said in objection.  “We didn’t choose it.  We were just here to help them.”

“Be quiet, Paul,” the stern voice snapped.  “None of this concerns her.”

“Well, if you are not gods,” Selah demanded silkily, “who are you to make decisions about others’ lives for them?  Who put you in charge of determining the best course for all mankind—silencing, eliminating, destroying those who threaten your vision?”

There was an uproar at that, all three speaking at once so loudly that Ari couldn
’t make out any of it.

“We have done nothing but help people!” was the last, rather plaintive statement once all the hubbub died down.

Selah, pacing slowly, said seriously, “Were there not once other peoples…different peoples…that are no more?  Peoples of dark skin—darker than Tarq—and those with ‘almond-shaped’ eyes…?  They didn’t survive the Upheaval very well, did they?”

“You don
’t understand!” It was that soft voice again, shrill now.  “There was nothing but contention in the old world, an ignorant focusing on differences instead of what makes all mankind the same.  We sought only for peace…!”

“Didn
’t work out very well, did it?” Selah remarked.

But then the brisk, commanding voice—he had to be Northerner—said quietly, “There
’s no way you could know about that.”

Selah stopped pacing, turning slowly to face the modules.  “There is a way.  It was buried, the whole story, in great detail, 3000 years ago.  By a man named Matt.”

“NO--!” a shocked, breathless whisper fell into the sudden silence.

“I told you we should never have trusted him!” Vangoth
’s voice was furious.

“We didn
’t,” the voice that had to belong to Marek said wearily.  “But apparently we didn’t fire him soon enough.  As for the decision of who to save…we had limited space…we had to choose only those who had the best chance of surviving, and sociopolitical considerations had to be weighed if there was going to be success…you cannot possibly understand these things.”

“No, not possibly,” Selah agreed with deceptive mildness.  “I only understand that you are men, playing around with a power that is not yours, sentencing others to your whims and follies and rendering them helpless—or worse—with your shoddy displays of trickery.”

Ari glanced over at her, shocked.  He’d never heard anything so insulting come out of her mouth.

“We are not just men!” Vangoth bellowed peevishly.  “We have knowledge and intelligence far beyond that of any of the peoples in the Realms!”

Marek’s powerful, cold voice said haughtily, “These are not ‘displays of trickery.’  If you are in doubt of our real power, I suggest you grab onto a Triele and attempt an argument.”

Ari felt anger, disgust, revulsion, stir in his guts at that statement, his awe fading with the memory of the Followers vanishing into ash. 
Men
?  Was he hearing this right?  Who were they…to do such things to people?

  “That is nothing more than the Prime Mage telling a child of six that he is a god because he can use a sextant,” Selah
’s voice rang out into the chamber.  “I understand well what this “power” of yours is.”

“Do you?” Vangoth sneered emphatically into the incredulous gap that followed that statement.  “You understand Tri-elevated Digital Electroencephalographic Technology?  Is that right?  I
’d like you to explain to me—”

“I do not claim to understand the details of your knowledge,” Selah broke in, “I only claim that it is an artificial power.  And I charge you with its abuse, with the irresponsible use of a capability that should
’ve been used only to help people.”

“The Realms exist only because of us!” Marek snapped.

“You have no idea what you are talking about!” the voice that Ari, resigned, had realized must be Laschald’s, announced spiritedly.  “We have made this world a wonder, filled it with amazing creatures and insured survival of a people that would have been absolutely helpless—nay, nonexistent—without us!  Our powers are so far beyond what you can imagine…you have no right to censure us!”

“If you are so powerful,” Selah said wryly, “then explain a few mysteries of your creations to me.  For instance, why is it that something as complicated as a gryphon thrives and flourishes in nature while you cannot get a unicorn, nothing but a horse with a horn stuck on its forehead, to last long enough to reproduce?”

Nobody answered.  Ari frowned in puzzlement.

“That
’s still a challenge before me,” Laschald admitted evenly.

“It
’s been a ‘challenge’ for 3000 years.”

“The success of the centaurs is convincing enough argument of our superiority,” he returned quickly.

“As are, no doubt, the Red-Breasted Gorillas,” she said archly.

“My purpose there was to add man
’s genes back to his closest cousins, so that he can see how similar he is to them, to avoid that superiority that man had—” his words almost stumbled over themselves, he answered so quickly, but she cut him off.

“And the result was the most vicious, blood-thirsty enemies your people have in the entire jungle!  And we won
’t even
talk
about the Wolven,” she snapped, in a voice so close to angry that Ari raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “How many of your people have suffered and died from your ‘creations,’ from your playing around with things you don’t understand?!”

“We never claimed to be perfect!” he shouted.

“No, you only claimed to be gods.  And your people trusted you.  Why,
why
have you done nothing about Raemon?  All these centuries of warfare, of death and cruelty and despair, and YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING!”

“It is not for you to criticize us!” Marek thundered in icy anger.  “We swore an oath not to interfere with each other—”

“Which I see he kept up very well,” she said.  “You would kill your own innocent people when it serves your designs, but let your brother rampage out of control across the Realms, wreaking destruction wherever he will, the very root of all the ‘unrest’ this world knows…so that you can sit back and say self-righteously that you have kept a promise already broken.”  Her nostrils were flaring, her eyes sparking with that strange light.  Ari backed away nervously, but it caught her eye, and she beckoned him over.

She pointed to the rock wall behind her, and understanding what she wanted, he walked over to it, pacing slowly by it.  Sure enough, the red light flashed at eye level, temporarily blinding him.  He
’d expected another door to open, but instead, out of the blank, unmarked wall, a desk or lectern or console came whirring slowly out at him.  It was slightly higher than his waist, with several completely incomprehensible markings and buttons and nodules on it.  He glanced over at Selah helplessly, but she was busy.