flooding, was useless for irrigation.
At a rocky shelf, a cedarwood ferry manned by slaves hung on a thick rope braided from hemp. Pallaton's party dismounted and covered their horses' eyes with their scarves so they wouldn't spook. Slaves grunted and chanted as they hauled the ferry across by main strength, with the great rope bowing almost in a half-circle because the current ran so fast.
On the river's northern side, the party climbed a steep ridge, iron-shod hooves slipping on shale. Atop the ridge they found that a curving path had been hammered wide and flat by thousands of bare feet marching in both directions. No one ordered the three Cursrahns to be silent, so they talked while Pallaton conferred with his advisors.
'Finally we'll see what those slaves are digging,' Gheqet, apprentice to architects, wondered aloud. 'I've wracked my brain to fathom what they could be digging up out here in the wilderness, and how any earthworks project could threaten Cursrah. I can't imagine a thing.'
Breasting a second ridge that doubled back toward the river, Samir Pallaton was met by his chief engineer and his staff, all in military tunics painted with a crossed pickaxe and shovel. Under one man's arm rested a silver trumpet.
The prince called, 'Are we on schedule, Dewert?'
The engineer nodded his white head. 'Your vizars arrived just after noon, sire,' he answered. 'They threw bones and read the auguries, and find the elements auspicious.'
Pallaton nodded, squinting at the sky as if anticipating rain. Rounding a bend, the Cursrahns finally saw the mysterious digging project. In a shallow valley running due north, perpendicular to the river, swarmed hundreds of brown-and-white bodies like termites.
Amenstar peered closely, but quickly gave up and asked, 'Gheq, what are they doing?'
The budding architect shook his head, just as confused. Craning in his saddle, Gheqet sketched in the air to make sense of the scene. The earthwork was only a deep trench that lowered the valley's floor, which was already hemmed by rocky slopes. Hundreds of slaves, Gheqet estimated, dug the ditch with hand tools and lugged the dirt out in baskets. The trench was half a mile long and led to nothing but more valley between hills.
They rode on, high above the ditch, aiming for a low hill overlooking both the river and the trench. Atop the hill were four small tents. Soldiers guarded the hill's perimeter.
'This makes no sense,' Gheqet mused so only his friends heard. 'I don't see why Pallaton bothers digging a ditch. Even if they cut through that stone ridge to tap the river-damned hard digging-they'll only catch a dribble from the Agis, a tenth of what they'd need to fill this trench at the most. What will they irrigate that's worth the trouble?'
'Could they steal water from the Mouth of Cursrah?' Tafir asked. He referred to the opening of the famous aqueduct, the source of all the city's water. Gheqet craned in the saddle to point west and said, 'Those hills block the view, but the aqueduct mouth lies about five miles down river. Pallaton can't cut off Cursrah's water supply from here. This little ditch won't lower the aqueduct an inch. Besides, the river's protected, same as the aqueduct, by Bitrabi. Try to steal water, and you incur the wrath of our marid.'
'Magic can combat magic,' muttered Tafir. 'They said vizars are coming. Pallaton must have some plan up his sleeve. Maybe he's got a tougher genie trapped in a bottle.'
'Impossible,' countered Amenstar. 'No one could oppose a sanction placed by Great Calim.'
Her young companions didn't argue. Soon the party reached the low hill, which was too steep for horses. Dismounting, they climbed. Amenstar graciously let Pallaton hold her hand up broken rocks like big steps. At the top waited a dozen men dressed in red. Their leader carried a tall staff that looked familiar. These were Oxonosis's vizars, Star realized, but what did they plan?
'Look,' murmured Tafir. 'The genie staff.'
'Genie-staff?'
Star remembered. Held erect by the chief vizar, the staff was taller than a man, twisted like the fabled Staff of Shoon made of unicorn horns, painted and gilded to resemble genie smoke, and crowned by a clever cloud holding a winking sapphire. Pallaton had brought it to Star's party. She'd thought it only an odd showpiece, but Vrinda, their administrator genie, had peered long and hard at it. Why?
Atop the hill, Amenstar could see half the horizon to the south and east. As Gheqet had noted, the chuckling river ran in its own ancient trough, and a stone ridge a quarter-mile thick separated the precious water from Pallaton's erratic dirt ditch running north. Amenstar was trying to think of something clever and defiant to say when the prince spoke.
'Remember the legend of Ajhuutal? It was a prosperous seaport east of Coramshan.'
'I remember,' replied Star, vaguely. 'It sank into the sea and became the Spider Swamp?'
'That's it. It was long ago, when Calim still strove to conquer this land. He wrestled with a marid named Ajhuu in the Steam Clashes. Finally Calim unleashed an earthquake that shattered thirty miles of the River of Ice into a crumbly delta. The sea rushed in and created Spider Swamp. Coramshan calls the event the Shattering. I suppose now it's safe to use the old name, the Ajhuutal Mutiny.'
'It's never prudent to mock Great Calim.' Star deliberately raised her voice so the sky might hear. Still, her breath came short from a tight chest, as if disaster portended. 'Will you unleash magicks to undo the enchantments of our benefactor? Only lesser genies ever gave Great Calim a battle.'
'I can ply the greatest of magicks… Calim's own.' Pallaton's teeth glowed like wolf fangs as he scanned the sky. Reaching a decision, he called, 'Trumpeter, blow!'
With a flourish, the military engineer saluted, puffed his cheeks, and blew a long horn blast. Instantly, like an anthill kicked open, slaves spilled from the dark ditch and streamed up the rocky slopes. When the brown-and-white bodies were halfway up, the prince nodded to the chief vizar.
'If it please your grace,' said Pallaton, 'you may commence.'
The vizar in red raised the curved staff over his head and loosed a wail in some arcane language that made Star's skin crawl. Five more vizars, standing at five points around their chief, added more wails like men enduring torture. Gheqet and Tafir glanced about wide-eyed, as did soldiers guarding the perimeter and the samir's bodyguards.
Pallaton swayed from foot to foot, excited as a child, and said, 'That staff is said to be Calim's Scepter. It should be-we paid a fortune to grave robbers for it!'
Amenstar sniffed. 'At Cursrah's College we have warehouses stuffed with mystical gimcracks,' she said. 'Most are fakes.'
'As may be,' Pallaton conceded, 'but our wisest vizars think this curved stick is genuine. We'll find out now if it is.'
The chanting dragged on until Amenstar wished to cover her ears. Junior vizars burned incense and threw offerings of rice and cinnamon to the four winds. Nothing seemed to happen, until Pallaton pointed upward. The sun had been occluded by a high haze. Gradually the haze lowered and thickened, becoming a full overcast that darkened the land. A stiffening breeze made Star shiver. Far away on the slopes, slaves raised brown arms and murmured in awe.
The chief vizar's weird wail reached a crescendo. Howling, the man raised the staff high and stabbed it hard upon the hilltop toward the river, so hard Amenstar wondered the shaft didn't shatter.
A rumble shook the world, and people glanced up.
Tafir muttered, 'That wasn't thunder…'
A tremor trilled through their legs.
'Wh-what-'bleated Amenstar.'L-lords of L-light-t-t-t,…'
'E-er-earthquake,' chattered Gheqet.
Another rumble rolled past, a grumbling toll like a monstrous iron bell. On the slopes above the new ditch, rocks trickled from peaks, and slaves scampered to avoid small avalanches. A hollow boom sounded. Amenstar squeaked and fell to her knees. She'd seen the hills move.
Along the banks of the Agis, a stone ridge flexed as if Great Calim had snapped a blanket. A rising, rippling boom slowly cracked hills further along the river's northern side-where the vizar had aimed in striking the staff. A soldier shouted above the roar. Everyone pointed and screamed together.
The north bank of the River Agis-solid stone- dissolved.
As if tired, rocky ridges forty feet high suddenly let go and slid into the riverbed. Untold tons of stone dropped
