“-The reason I summoned you together,” Lord Fu Shi’i said.
“-Then we must lay aside our differences,” the Prince continued. “We must hold true to our original covenant and join in finding the Man of Gold before the Livyani do. If my sages speak aright, the thing can do more than drop dung in the road before your ‘Weapon Without Answer,’ Baron! Ohe, you may yet see it fry the walls of Ke’er as Lord Vimuhla might cook a sausage! We have both seen the powers of the devices of the Ancients! The ‘Eyes’ that were once their smallest tools, the hammers of their smiths, the chisels of their masons; the vehicles that travel through tunnels below the earth; the cars that fly; the Lightning Bringers that deliver bolts of energy farther than any sorcerer can toss his spells-.” The Prince made a circular gesture in the air with one corpse-hued finger. “This Man of Gold may do real mischief to our mutual causes: there are hints, stories-”
“Legends-!” the Baron began, but Prince Dhich’une would not be silenced.
“Yes, legends. Ancient threats to your-allies: tales not only of harm to your ‘Weapon Without Answer,’ but also to the He'esa, whom you have so carefully established in positions useful to us both, and even to the power of the Goddess Herself to enter into this Plane! The priest-boy cannot know the capacity of this Man of Gold. But the Livyani may. And their game is unknown. All their counters lie concealed within the temples of their Shadow Gods! Will you not now call upon the He’esal We must rectify matters before it is too late.”
“I agree that we must act-both of us. Unfortunately none of the He’esa is close enough to be of use at this time. Your agents combined with mine should be sufficient, nevertheless. After all, neither this Thumis priest nor his Livyani friend is Subadim the Sorcerer! My Lord Fu Shi’i, can you contact our folk in Purdimal? The hour is late, but…”
“It will be done, master. The Mihalli here knows paths that traverse Planes through which none other travels. And you, Prince? Your agents?”
“Already in action. But I have telepaths who will speak with others in Purdimal. Our pursuit will increase by five-fold within this night.”
“Our matters are complete, then?”
“For now, Success, Prince!”
“To you as well, Baron Aid.”
The Mihalli moved supple, many-jointed fingers above the globe. The scene flickered and flowed away into darkness. The sparks of light flipped their tails lazily and swam to and fro in a sea that might have been air, or water, or something entirely different.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The tunnel ascended, which cheered them. Then it descended again, which did not. Taluvaz paused to pronounce the walls similar to those made during the latter Llyani dynasties. To Harsan the passage was no different than before: a squarish tunnel hacked out of the living rock. For all he cared at the moment, it might have been built by Shqa — beetles! Its eventual destination was what worried him now. Why a tunnel so deep- and so long? This question he put to Taluvaz.
“Cities shift over the centuries,” the Livyani replied. “Today’s palaces and mansions are tomorrow’s slums, then naught but ruins on the morning thereafter. When one has ancient and venerable shrines, treasuries, and the tombs of one’s fathers below one’s dwellings, it is noble to maintain them even after the folk above have gone elsewhere. Thus it is with Ditlana: surface structures are razed, the cellars filled in, and new buildings rise up to please the Gods. Yet the priests keep some of the subterranean shrines open, and rulers do the same-for reasons less pious.”
“I have heard of this.” Harsan thought of Hele’a.
“And when one’s new city has wandered far from the old, those with secrets to keep dig passages to connect them. So we do in Livyanu, and so your Tsolyani-and so the many empires that have gone before: the Engsvanyali on top of the First Imperium of the Bednalljan kings; they upon the ruins of the Dragon Warriors, the ancestors of my Mirure here; they in turn upon the Three States of the Triangle; they upon the Llyani; and Llyan’s buildings over the wrack left from the Latter Times. Ai, there are deeper ruins still: the fragments of the metropolises that existed before the Time of Darkness, all metal and glass. And underneath everything else lie the crypts of the First Races: the Foes of Man, the Ssu and the Hliiss.”
“Yet this is solid rock, not stonework. This is no crawl-hole from one warren to the next.”
“So it is.” Taluvaz wriggled his shoulders, making his Aomiiz tattooes dance. “As I said, certain places were built as catacombs for the dead, others for the storing of valuables, and some for reasons now known only to the Gods.”
They came to another large cavern, a natural bubble which the ancient miners had exploited to advantage. Here they halted. A broken bronze adze lay on the floor, mute evidence of one who had laboured here long ago. Mirure hefted the blade but opined that it was too corroded to serve. There was no sign of the handle; if Taluvaz were correct, anything made of wood must now be dust.
The lowest section of the cave held a pool of water. From this they gratefully drank and washed themselves. Once they sat down, however, the need for rest swept over them like a wave. Tlayesha and Mirure were used to walking, but there was no telling how long Taluvaz and Simanuya could keep up. Itk t’Sa might be tired too. The Pe Choi could go without rest for days, but their rhythms were different from those of humankind, and when fatigue finally struck, it felled them as surely as any spear-blade. Harsan massaged his own limbs and decided that neither Jayargo nor all the monsters of Sarku’s hells would get him up until he had slept for a time.
They busied themselves with prosaic little tasks. This took away from the mute and malignant darkness, the terror that hovered just beyond their circle of light, and the uncertainties of the future. Tlayesha saw to Mirure’s wound again, for it was growing painful. Morkudz then let his spell of radiance expire, and blackness swept in to press upon their eyes like the silver coins that Lord Belkhanu’s priests lay upon the eyes of the dead. Harsan could not begrudge the Heheganu his sleep; his sorcery had exhausted him more than any of them. There was only one other entrance to the cave: the continuation of their tunnel. It seemed best to post someone to watch while the rest warmed themselves against one another and dozed. He asked Itk t’Sa and she did not demur, saying that she could remain alert a while longer.
They woke hungry, but there was no food. They drank again, and took counsel. Their only course was to continue. Jayargo might have lied about another entrance through which he could come at them, but even this would be more cheering than to discover that this corridor ended in nothing, a dead-end, a blank wall from which they would have to retrace their weary steps- and find some way to recross the fiery chasm!
The passage turned, wound up and down, and finally began to rise in earnest: slanting corridors interspersed with flights of long and shallow steps. Simanuya exclaimed that he felt breath of air coming from up ahead, and their pace became quicker, their spirits higher.
Even if their pursuers did know the labyrinth, was it not possible that they might await them at some other entrance and hence miss them? Or that Harsan and his party might emerge before Jayargo could reach the place?
“If we come forth from here alive, you must hide us in the city,” Harsan said to Taluvaz. “Later I shall return with you to seek the Man of Gold. I have made up my mind to take you at your word-for now. I shall give it over to Prince Eselne. Let him worry about the future!”
“You shall not regret this, priest Harsan.”
“I regret every moment since leaving the Monastery of the Sapient Eye.” He knew that this was not true even as he said it. Had he remained there, he would never have experienced life at all! Whether he lived or died now, at least he was a player, a swatch of gold thread amidst the dull warp and woof of the Weaver’s tapestry. More, he never would have met Tlayesha. (-And Eyil, a voice within him added primly.)
“Prince Eselne will arrange protection for you-and these others as well. Be assured that he will employ your Man of Gold wisely, for the good of your nation.” Taluvaz extracted a pomander from a pouch at his belt and sniffed at it. The sweet, heady, resinous fragrance of Kilueb-essencc trailed after him in the dank air.
“I hope so.” Harsan forbore any mention of his own private reservations. Only after he had examined the situation as carefully as an old woman inspecting vegetables in the market would he really consider handing the Man of Gold on to Prince Eselne.
