The Immortal of Degoskirke Page 7
“Vague and bombastic!” the braid replied.
Cheers and boos rang through the plaza.
I have no idea what’s going on, but I love this.
“The great sun will rise and herald the dawn of a new mankind!” a man next to Andy cheered.
“We’re not all men, you know,” an ychorite complained.
Andy laughed as the debate grew heated. He didn’t want to leave.
Moments later, he felt a tug on his sleeve. A boy stood staring at him. The boy had a gray-green tinge to his skin. His eyes were golden. He wore a plain tunic and pants, though his expression seemed more mature in its analysis of Andy.
“You should come with me,” the boy said, gesturing to the crowd.
Andy saw a group of guards questioning people on the fringes.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Andy said.
Once they left the noisy plaza, the boy regarded him again. “You don’t seem like the Voice.”
“I’m not, kid, I’m a failure. I refused to take the Cogito.”
“The songs don’t mention anything like that.”
“You should have seen Caspian’s face. He wasn’t pleased, and then the cracking lights and fields of crystals.”
“Ah!” the boy said, “Skybreak. I’ve never seen one, but I heard one today. The battle was magnificent.”
“Yeah, it was too loud for me—say, where are we going?”
“To a street over in the mer quarter. I hope you don’t mind a little water.”
“No problem, I could use a bath—but why are you taking me there? Is someone going to come out and try to kill me? Because I have this,” Andy said, brazenly producing the Argument.
The boy’s eyes went wide. “Put that away! Do you want the Exegesuits to chase us and tear apart the quarter?”
Andy did as he was asked.
“Thank you. And no, this is no trap,” the boy said.
“Could you explain a little more than that?”
“It might sound strange.”
Andy stopped in his tracks. The boy noticed, staring at him questioningly.
“Strange? It might sound strange?” Andy sputtered. He looked around in every direction. “Kid, strange is a word that no longer exists,” Andy felt the urge to break out into laughter but spared the boy’s dignity.
“Indeed,” the boy said, unsure if he should continue, “Don’t repeat this to anyone, either.”
Andy nodded.
“A great number of people from all the races have been awaiting your return. In the mer district, the faith is still strong. I, from all the others in my year, have been chosen to look for you. I must help you find one of your old houses. If you are really the Voice, you will know which is yours.”
“I see, another test.”
The boy grinned.
Minutes later, they came to a place where the water lapped up into the street. Around the corner they saw a field of structures sinking away into the murk. Andy shook his head at the sight.
“This way,” the boy said, tugging Andy’s arm.
They climbed over rubble and occasionally waded through waist-deep water. Andy noticed the boy moved faster in the water. He saw movement in the buildings, and spied teal faces looking down on them.
Another mer child rushed out into the street from her home.
“No, Beryl, go home! This is my job!” the boy yelled, but the girl refused to listen.
“It was my job last season!” she complained and grabbed Andy’s other arm.
A few minutes later, at least a dozen other children had joined them, much to the original boy’s dismay.
They finally stopped and looked up a short street that terminated in a circle of tall houses.
“It’s almost like a street on the surface,” Andy muttered.
The children would not travel far up the street, but instead, waited and watched.
At their prompting, Andy walked up the street, his eyes moving from house to house. He heard the murmurings of the children fade as he went.
Unsure of what he was looking for Andy stood in the circle, staring at the ring of houses around the street.
There! The Infiniteye!
He spotted a glowing Infiniteye painted above a door. He walked towards the house, and as he did, a cheer rang out from the children.
Andy approached the door cautiously. He reached out and touched the handle. It was cool brass. His frayed nerves expected a trap. He turned the knob and the door swung silently open. When no burst of flame or flying bolts appeared, Andy sighed and went inside.
He found splintered and water-damaged furniture strewn about the main room. Couches and upturned chairs on a table were also covered in sheets. Green bottles had rolled into a far corner and sat amid warped floor-boards.
Andy checked all the rooms on the first and second floor, but found them mostly bare. On his second time through the first floor, he spotted an almost imperceptible Infiniteye painted on a running board in a bedroom.
Andy pushed the bed aside and saw the faint outline of a trapdoor. However, he saw no way to open it.
Well, if I’ve learned anything.
Andy found the Argument and held it up to his eye.
The trap-door is locked.
Andy saw that the lock was connected to something outside the room. He followed the axle through the wall, it changed direction many times. Reaching its termination, Andy found himself standing outside the house.
The trapdoor linked with a pair of statues that stood in a small fountain near the front door. The statues were facing the walkway and each held a welcoming hand out to any visitors. Andy inspected the statues and saw they would pivot on their plinths. He turned them towards each other and felt a slight click. The statues seemed just as natural welcoming each other as they had guests. Not wanting to ponder over-long about what meaning there was in this, Andy went back inside and found that the trapdoor now sat just high enough for him to get a grip.
He opened the door and saw a ladder, though it was dark further down. The air was cooler as he descended. The silence and stillness of the black space made him nervous.
His foot touched off on solid ground. He felt it was about thirty feet down, though it wasn’t flooded, as he expected. Andy produced a glow with the Argument.
The room was covered in glowing writing. He saw the Infiniteye painted a few dozen times on the walls and ceiling. Long paragraphs glowed here and there; some were in English. The room otherwise looked like a cozy barracks. Bunk-beds lined one wall, while couches crowded around a fireplace on another. Tables and chairs filled a corner, and maps and books were strewn about the table. A well-stocked wine rack sat nearby, and a few armor stands stood, still bearing clothes and armor not far removed from his own, though these were of a far higher quality, and adorned with devices and medallions he didn’t recognize. There was also a banner, half fallen, still clinging to the wall. He held it up.
“Occidentus Obscura!” it read. I thought that was the mouse organization. Maybe these Seers were a part of it too.
Andy spotted a lever on the wall, near the ladder. He pulled it, and heard the trapdoor shut itself and lock tight.
I’m probably safe down here, for now at least.
Andy flung off his cloak and tossed it at an empty clothing rack before walking over to the table. There was a thick cloth laying on a round object in the middle of the table. Andy removed the cloth and saw a golden piece of Argument, less than half the size of his own, floating above a candlestick holder. Andy released the grip on his Argument. The expected darkness was replaced by a soft, golden glow from this Argument, which must have served as a remarkably expensive lantern.
Someone threw the cloth over it to get some sleep. How long has it been sitting here?
Free to use both hands, Andy looked through the maps and books. He felt himself becoming lightheaded at the glut of glowing letters. Almost everything present was written in Seer script, making it hard on Andy’s eyes.
“Manual for the improvement of apprentice Seers in the area of martial utility, with critical tenets of the Silvereye.” What a title.
Andy’s jaw dropped as he flipped through the pages.
“The establishment and accretion of etherium armoring,” “Tuning and honing one’s blade to protect against catastrophic recoil,” “Storing the Argument within, or, how to free one’s hand.”
Andy saw diagrams and illustrations of how to grasp the Argument, how to flex one’s muscles, and further on in the book, how to focus the mind. These later illustrations featured elements of what he saw with the Silversight.
This is exactly what I need!
Andy poured through the book, occasionally stopping to stand and practice storing the Argument. After a moment of practice, he found the Argument would indeed float in his body, with no to be focused into a limb.
Now someone can search me and not find it. I wonder if it’s safe to keep it within all the time. Ziesqe kept his on a chain—maybe he never learned this trick, or maybe the Counter works differently.
Andy skipped ahead to another chapter and practiced blade tuning.
I think I might know a little about this already.
He twisted his wrist and summoned the articulated blade, it seemed more solid than in its simplest form. With a tightened thrust the blade elongated to an absurd size.
“Damn!” Andy yelled, accidentally slicing through a bunk-bed on the other side of the room.
He turned the page and saw how to slacken the blade by bending the wrist back. He did so and was surprised when the blade fell limply to the floor, burning a trail along the ground.
Andy laughed like a maniac and turned the page again. He saw how to make a shield, and wanted to try it. He almost bent his arm in the right way, but the lank blade crackled and reeled into his arm, tearing a couch and part of the floor to explosive pieces in moments.
Andy ducked as the debris flew against the wall.
Maybe I shouldn’t be practicing inside.
Andy looked at the shield illustrations and saw that his wrist had started in the wrong position.
He had been too excited, and besides that, he was sleepy. He tried to keep reading, but once he realized how tired he was, he couldn’t stop himself from yawning.
It’s been a long day, but at least it ended well, minus the destroyed furniture.
Andy untied and then kicked off his annoying leather sandals, before climbing into a bunk.
“Top bunk!” he yelled to no one in particular.
The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was a shimmering Infiniteye staring down at him from the ceiling.
Chapter 4
The Free City
Letty gazed up at the collection of confused looking banners hanging from one tower and then to the plain surface of the other.
“I don’t know much about the various Archatian houses, but they are on the left, while the secular Exegesuit priests stand on the right,” Quill said to their confused faces.
“What the hell is any of that supposed to mean?” Dean asked.
“Look, the city has two governing arms, one is simple, while the other is completely insane, almost beyond words. The right-hand side are the Exegesuits. They call themselves—” Quill took a moment to get the name right in his mind, “The Anteschismarian Order of Exegesuits, or Exegesuits for short. They guard the city against Seers and ryle alike and collect a small fee from all commerce in and out of the city. They are the face of the city to the outside world, and they command the guards. Their doctrine is violently opposed to the Argument and the Counter. They deny that either exist and punish or censor any mention of them to ensure peace with the ryle lords that dominate the rest of Pansubprimus.”
“Okay,” Dean said, “that makes sense, politically, I mean. But the whole, denying things exist stance, I don’t see why they would.”
“They are the last free city in this part of the Netherscape, and it’s not by accident,” Staza replied.
“Okay, that’s the Exegesuits, but what about the other side, the one with all the banners?” Letty asked.
“That’s the other half of the city, the Archatian system. The domestic governance. They are composed of dozens of large and small factions. Most of those factions are ideologically opposed to each other, but occasionally they get along. These factions govern the city at the same time as the Exegesuits, but they aren’t supposed to deal with foreign matters like diplomacy and war. They are in constant competition with each other for popular approval, and control of the city, which is divided into administrative parcels.”
“Really?” Dean asked. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You haven’t heard the worst part. As one group is voted in, their collected laws are instituted in that parcel immediately. The Egalitarian Redistributionists, for instance, will rush their supporters into a parcel and overwhelm the plaza. They will blitz for control and, once they have it, will set about looting houses and businesses for everything they have. The locals might not be prepared, but once they figure out what’s happening, the redistributionists will be shouted out and whatever rulership the locals prefer will return, though the looting will have been completely legal.”
“It sounds like piracy,” Emma said.
“There’s no way that works,” Dean sputtered, near to pulling out his hair.
“Well, they’ve agreed to starting and stopping points for the debating, so antics like that can only occur during decent hours,” Staza replied.
“So, the crown above the banners moves as the local rulership changes?” Letty asked.
“Right, and whoever is in charge, when it’s our turn to enter, gets to tax us,” Staza said. “Pray for good luck.”
“I’ve read that only a few factions tax pedestrian entrants like us. They are mostly interested in merchants who do business in the city,” Quill said, not sounding too sure.
The line they were standing in was far shorter than the line of carts, but it was still a slow process, as everyone was searched and subjected to blank signs held by the Exegesuits.
“Letty,” Emma whispered.
Letty turned her way.
“Your eyes; you need the carrots.”
Letty felt suddenly afraid. “Is anyone staring?” Letty asked, unshouldering her pack.
Emma looked about at the people standing in line. Most were distracted by the performance going on at the gate and on the tower.
“Take them now,” Emma whispered, “before we get up there.”
Letty and Staza poked through their bags as innocuously as possible before finding the carrots. Letty passed them out and she and the Caspians gulped them down.
“Thanks, Em,” Letty said.
“We can’t forget—” Emma said, turning back to the gateway. “—but what do we do when we get in?” she asked.
“Find a portal,” Letty said.
“It’s not that easy. Pythia knows how to make portals, but almost no one else does. Even if we do find something, it will probably be expensive,” Quill said. “We’ll have to trade more of our possessions.”
“Or,” Staza butted in, “we get a little aggressive. I don’t care to lose any more of our equipment.”
“We have to be peaceful. Seers aren’t welcome in the city as it is. We don’t need any extra attention,” Quill whispered.
A man atop the tower called out the word, “Braid!” and the crown changed location.
Letty heard the cart owners sigh in relief.
They approached a man in a long-braided wig, who smiled, and asked to see into their bags. “Just for anything illegal that is, no seizures here!” he said, with some venom for the pair of ychorites in red, carrying bags.
They placed their packs on a table, while the temple priests approached them each with their blank signs.
“Eyes here!” one snapped at Letty, insistently.
&n
bsp; Letty stared.
I hope those carrots are working.
The priest went on to Emma.
A moment later, Letty felt a little nervous. One Braid whispered to a priest.
“Would you please come with us,” the Braid said to Letty and their group.
Murmurings rose from the people behind.
“Contraband?” one merchant asked another.
“Did they fail the test?” another traveler asked.
Armored guards appeared, and they were escorted into the city.
How did they find us out!
Letty barely heard the excited cheering and raucous debating coming from a nearby stage.
What are they going to do to us? What did they find? None of us should have failed the test—was it me, did I fail? The priest didn’t look like I did; he looked bored.
They were taken to a nearby strong house and sat at a wide table. The Braid waited with them as the priests left.
“What’s the problem? If I may ask,” Quill said.
“Oh, well, a few things possibly. But, please, I’m being rude. I am Phineas Aldridge, speaker for the Peace and Parley Party, also known as the Braids,” Phineas said, with a slight bow and a small smile.
Letty introduced herself and her friends.
“Hmm, you don’t sound like Elazene or Wrecklanders. But I thought I recognized your type a few moments ago.” Letty shared a nervous look with Staza and Dean. “You’re from Caspia, aren’t you?”
Quill took a deep breath. “You’ve found us out, Phineas. We are children of Pythia, and we have traveled for so long in secrecy, the habit still sticks. This is our destination, and I apologize for not being more forthcoming at the gate.”
“No, no, not at all,” Phineas said, rushing to take a seat, before turning and opening the door, “Tea please!” he paused, and gave them an ingratiating smile. “A light lunch for six as well, and inform the emissary that he is needed for once!” Phineas waited at the door for a moment, and accepted a tray full of tea cups and a kettle. He returned to the table, and nervously poured for everyone.