Reclamation(164)

“Because what they definitely did, your ancestors and mine, was steal the world. They moved it to a location that was so preposterous they hoped no one would ever think of looking for them. Their calculations went wrong somewhere and that’s why most of the place is dead. That was why the Servant, whoever he was, said ‘there is no place for you but here,’ because this is the only habitable part of the planet.

“Stone in the Wall dena Arla Born of the Black Wall, am I right?”

“The general pattern matches available information but specific details are not here.” Arla jerked like she’d been startled. The stone fell out of her hand and thudded onto the ground.

Her hand drifted to her forehead and pressed against her brow.

“Arla?” A fine layer of perspiration had formed on her skin. Eric reached out, ready to use his power gift if she needed it.

“I’m all right,” she waved him back. “I … That was the first time … I …” she rubbed her temple. “The stone just told me it thinks so, but it doesn’t … we don’t know.” She blinked at the shining sphere. “It’s never felt like that before.”

“You never asked it about its own history before.” Eric retrieved the stone and held it out. Arla wrapped her hand inside the hem of her poncho before she took it from him. “You said once that you wished you had your ancestress’s knowledge. Well, from what Zur-Iyal said of what’s inside those stones, I thought you might, at least some of it.”

Arla opened her mouth, and closed it again, obviously still a little dazed. She returned the stone to her pouch and drew the laces tight. “So why didn’t the Vitae just head for May 16 when the Realm vanished?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they got lost.” Arla snorted, but Eric kept on going. “It’s not impossible. They’d just lost their world, their slaves, and who knows what else. We are talking about a whole galaxy’s worth of room. You’ve seen it over the World’s Wall.” He swept his hand out. “There might have only been a few of them, or there might have been something here that they still needed.” He lowered his hand slowly. “Maybe there was something still here they couldn’t live without so they spent three thousand years trying to find it.”

Arla laid her hand on her pouch and swallowed hard.

“What I really want to know is this,” she said. “If who you consider to be Aunorante Sangh depends on which side of the World’s Wall you were born on, who were the Nameless Powers?”

“I don’t know,” Eric said. “That’s what I think you and Jay are going to find out.” He paused. “Or you could ask.” He gestured at the pouch.

Arla stared at him. A fat drop of rain splashed against her cheek.

“Let’s get inside.” Without another word, she turned away and strode toward the huts.

There was nothing left for Eric to do but follow her.

Silver on the Clouds stood in the street outside her tavern base and watched the Skyman’s star. It rose majestically on its silver cord until the clouds folded around it and blotted out the light.

“We’ve done it!” she shouted jubilantly. “They’re retreating!”

Holding the Keys stared at the clouds. They had not even rippled when the star passed through them. “Are they truly?”

King Silver swung herself onto her ox’s broad back. “Even if it is only a strategic withdrawal, it matters little right now. It gives us a chance to take the High House again, before the First City troops get themselves organized. Boy!” she shouted to a child in a green-and-scarlet uniform. “Sound the muster! We move out now!”

The boy sprinted down the street. “Muster!” he cried out at the top of his lungs. “Muster!”

“Holding, find General Glass and bring him here.” King Silver pulled her riding gloves out of her belt and pulled them onto her hands. They were dust-colored leather with her hand marks reproduced on their backs.

“Majesty.” Holding the Keys raised his hands briefly and hurried off after the boy.

Alone for at least a few seconds, Silver smiled a slow, hard smile toward the clouds.

“Be careful not to give me too much time, Skymen,” she said. “I’ll make you regret it.”





17—The Lif Marshes, The Realm of The Nameless Powers, Morning


“Do not cling too tightly to the products of your cleverness. What you create, however precious, you may some day be forced to destroy.”

Fragment from “The Beginning of the Flight,” from the Rhudolant Vitae private history Archives