Old Senefore was built on a round island in the middle of a lake, the remains of the caldera of an extinct volcano. The city had long-outgrown the island to cover the slopes of the hills surrounding the body of water. The inland lake was protected from storms and high waves, and over the years people had sunk piles into the lake bed to build homes and shops and temples upon stilts alongside the seven great bridges. The largest and most impressive mansions had floating gardens of pinky-white and orange blooms bobbing between wooden walkways. Many boats, both powered and rowed, flitted across the glistening water, laden down with teetering pyramids of brightly-coloured fruit, or silvery piles of fish pulled from the lake. For merchants, carnival was clearly a time of plenty.
Selene let the flood of people crossing one of the bridges pull her along. Still no one had challenged her or remarked on her appearance, and she'd uttered no words on her journey to the city beyond an occasional greeting or apology.
The air of excited anticipation had, however, given over to a more watchful wariness among the crowd, just as she'd witnessed via the nanosensors. Those who'd brought masks now wore them, as if afraid of being identified. Selene wore her own. It was hot and heavy, tickling her cheek as she moved, and the narrow eye-holes restricted her vision. Revelation Temple disciples move in regimented lines around her, their robes blood-red, their gaze wary as they looked sideways at the revellers pushing past. None wore masks, and their robes were often adorned with a single, stylized eye. Others wore eye chains around their necks, or had third eyes daubed onto their foreheads in some brown-red pigment.
Their scowls, Selene thought, were also masks in their own way. The temples hated the carnivals, saw them as degenerate, an expression of a godless evil. Consequently, the Templers gathered in the cities just as the revellers did, but to oppose what took place rather than to join in.
“Turn your back on superstition,” one Templer called out at random, his words punctuated by the clang of the handbell he rang. “You who hide your faces reject the gaze of your Lord, denying the beauty of all that he has wrought.” They sounded like lines from some hymn or proclamation.
The observation platforms bristling with the barrels of the local military forces became more and more oppressive. They didn't appear to be under direct Concordance control, but Selene had no doubt they would act if Godel gave the order. From what she could see of the weaponry, the soldiers would have little trouble mowing down the crowds thronging beneath them, turning the jostling stream of bodies into a carpet of bloodied limbs and torsos. There were also more and more large outdoor screens erected for the carnival. On each of them, Godel's speech was playing on a loop, her huge face scowling down on the people passing by.
It was midday by the time Selene reached the central island of Senefore. The overhead sun was a glaring furnace nailed to the sky. The air was so humid it felt like she was chewing it, swallowing it down, rather than breathing it in. She bought a glass of an ice-cold fruit drink to keep her cool. She sampled the fluid with the tip of her tongue, checking it for toxins or allergens. The liquid was benign; she could metabolise it safely. She drank it down, the taste sweet and acid tart at the same time, then ordered two more. The money bracelet Ondo had provided, loaded with electronic funds, appeared to work perfectly, convincing local retails systems that the cash it held was both trustworthy and effectively limitless. There were many stalls selling intoxicating drinks, spicy alcohol concoctions that were clearly extremely popular. She steered clear of these. She needed to keep a clear head if she wanted to properly understand what was going on and stay out of the clutches of Concordance. Her augmentations could metabolize alcohol at an accelerated rate if need be, but it wouldn't be instantaneous.
She did need to eat after her journey to the city. An array of street food-vendors jostled for elbow-room with the drink sellers, offering just about every sort of food she could think of and quite a few she couldn't begin to identify. The spicy smells of the food made her stomach grumble in anticipation, despite her off-world biology. A fried purple-red fish, wrapped in a rubbery leaf so it could be eaten on the move, seemed popular. She bought one and nibbled at a sample. It was all good: proteins and carbohydrates she could consume without harm, and from which her biology, natural and artificial, could readily extract sustenance. She ate greedily, juices from the fish dribbling down her hands.
The island was beautiful; the Senefore authorities had clearly gone to great trouble to maintain the original open squares and wide boulevards. The buildings were low, two or three storeys at most, and many were extremely ornate. Carved stone animals and the winding representations of vines adorned each surface. They were painted in a kaleidoscope of colours: pinks and blues and yellows. Many of the trees that Selene had seen on the beach grew among them, providing a welcome shade to those on the ground. Vividly-coloured birds with musical calls flitted between the trees, and fountains sprayed water pumped from the lake into the air, filling it with their cooling rainbows.
Soon, though, there would be little space to move as more and more people crowded onto the island. A hum of voices filled the air, the occasional word or cry of anger surfacing from the hubbub. The City Guard and the military had cordoned off several of the roads to provide a route for the carnival marchers, and she heard more than one argument as revellers were prevented from crossing roads or from sitting where they wished. The masks
