appear to be filled with good cheer.
Gjoresson stayed focused on the gateway. He gathered his companions, muttered with them, then the lot put together something indistinct. They pointed it at the portal, right where it met the dead water.
A spot of ruby fire came to life.
Februaren stared. The bounds of the world could not be discerned by his eye. Harbor and sky seemed to roll right on. Yet ripples caused by the barge made little splashes against something right where the dot shone. Seabirds wheeled in the distance, fishing, but never came close. Clearly, they could not see the barge or harbor.
The dwarves broke up. Most went to the oars. The barge wobbled back to the quay. Iron Eyes said, “I need more help. Particularly from those who closed the way, back when.”
Curious. Gjoresson kept talking like those events had taken place in the remote past.
The barge hugged quayside just long enough for the other Aelen Kofer to board. Dwarves were a dour tribe but this klatch were unusually taciturn and grim. A few muttered with Iron Eyes while the barge crossed the harbor. Finally, Korban told Februaren, “The bridge can be restored. We haven’t lost the secrets of building with rainbows. But it will take time and require a lot of magic. Which we don’t have. We’ll have to bring it from the middle world. But, granting that we get the bridge restored, freeing the Old Ones may still be impossible.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the entangled sorceries sealing them in were written so that only one of the Old Ones, or one of their blood, will be able to thread a passage through the magical closure. Your soultaken must be a genius. How could he know? Did he know? He did better imprisoning them than they did imprisoning the wicked gods they overthrew. No one has to stay here to keep these spells working. I’m in awe.”
And more than a little dishonest, Februaren reflected.
Iron Eyes said, “Unless the soultaken himself gives us a tool, there may be no hope. Those who could open the way are all inside. Even the Trickster, which amazes me. He was always too clever to get caught.”
Februaren considered. The ascendant had elements of the All-Father and the Chooser of the Slain Arlensul inside him. He would have drawn on those to imprison the rest of their divine gang. Could their knowledge also bring the walls down?
Had to.
The ascendant would know. The Aelen Kofer were peerless magical architects and engineers. They just needed his direction.
The Aelen Kofer gobbled steadily, gesturing, showing unusual animation. Februaren could not follow.
That little floating ruby dot grew. It burned more brightly. Ruby droplets dribbled down an invisible surface into the dead, colorless water.
There was a crack! of an explosion. Water sprayed the barge. A small wind heavy with alien odors knifed in behind it. And kept on coming, whistling.
“Success! Of a sort,” Gjoresson declared.
A vertical sword stroke of light three feet long, dropping into the water of the harbor, now hung in the air. It was an inch wide at its broadest, at the water level. Sunshine rushed in with the wind and odors. It was so bright!
Februaren said, “I didn’t realize how bleak it is over here.” His eyes adjusted. Blue water sparkled beyond the crack.
Where the breach met the harbor surface dull water began to show streams and eddies of color. Februaren felt gusts of power coming in with the wind and smells.
The Aelen Kofer started singing. Iron Eyes said, “The magic will return.”
From a world where the wells of power were drying up. Februaren wondered, was the power dying out of all the worlds?
He reminded himself that these worlds existed only to a few Instrumentalities and believers anymore. They were dying for sure.
The white shark broached feebly, halfway to the quay. It lived, just barely. Its eye fixed on the barge for one baleful moment.
Color continued to spread from the crack. Here, there, sparks of gold flashed for an instant on the rotten wood of the ship.
The power from that sea burst, over there, must still be strong.
A great whale eye appeared at the gap.
The Ninth Unknown raised a hand in greeting.
A worm of flesh started wriggling through.
Color spread. It climbed the side of the barge. Cloven Februaren opened himself to what power there was.
The Ninth Unknown knew exactly when the Windwalker sensed that the Realm of the Gods had been opened.
Iron Eyes shrieked.
Kharoulke had not known about the burst of power in the west. He did now. His attention had been attracted by a sudden, ferocious threat.
17. Brothe: Brief Idyll
Piper Hecht’s return to the Mother City was uncomfortable for everyone. A thousand men accompanied him, men who did not want to work for Pinkus Ghort. Some Brothens wanted to celebrate their coming. Most did not want to attract the attention of the new Patriarch. Serenity’s cronies wanted to shut the gates but did not have the popular support. Hecht had strong backers in the Collegium. Serenity did not, to his abiding mystification.
The moment the Interregnum ended Serenity started swinging Mother Church back to the course long steered by Sublime V. No surprise to Hecht, but a shock to most Brothens, including several Principat?s who had taken bribes to vote for him.
Bronte Doneto had done well pretending religious indifference when he lacked the power to enforce his convictions. Now he owned that power. Now he could feed the rage that had festered since the Connec humiliated and nearly killed him.
“I’m not comfortable,” Titus Consent said. While coming off the Blendine Bridge, watching Brotherhood members turn upstream toward their Castella dollas Pontellas. Leaving the former Captain-General without his lifeguard.
“As they tell us, be careful what we wish for.”
“Yes?”
“I resented every minute that Madouc was underfoot. Now he’s not.”
More than a hundred men did remain with them, headed the same direction. “We’ll be good for now. Later, maybe not so much.”
“Uhm. Pella. Stick close.”
A mile on, nearing their own neighborhood, with only a handful of friends close by now, Titus asked, “Made a firm decision yet?”
“What?” Hecht had been daydreaming about Anna. And the girls. Then, bemused, reflected that his true home and family were somewhere in the slums of al-Qarn. Possibly. What horrors might time, poverty, disease, Gordimer, and er-Rashal have worked there?
“About what’s next. You going to buy that vineyard? Or become Empress Katrin’s war tiger?”
“Oh. No you don’t. I’m not deciding anything now. It’s time for some plain old lazy drifting.”
Titus just smiled. He knew. The decision had been made, though Hecht’s motivations might not be clear. Even to Hecht himself.
The former Captain-General meant to head north, out of the Patriarchal States, possibly forever.
News of their coming had run ahead. Anna and the girls were out, waiting with No? Consent and her brood.
