And then it was gone.
I opened my eyes.
I sat slumped on the bathroom floor. My limbs felt weak, shaky. The walls were glowing again. Steaming water filled the tub beside me to the brim; the taps were closed. I was alone.
I got up and bathed, then returned to bed. T’vril murmured in his sleep and threw an arm over me. I curled against him and told myself for the rest of the night that I was still trembling because of fear, nothing else.
18
The Oubliette
THERE ARE THINGS I KNOW NOW that I did not before.
Like this: In the instant Bright Itempas was born, he attacked the Nightlord. Their natures were so opposed that at first this seemed destined and unavoidable. For countless eternities they battled, each occasionally achieving victory only to be later overthrown. Only gradually did both come to understand that such battle was pointless; in the grand scale of things, it was an eternal stalemate.
Yet in the process, completely by accident, they created many things. To the formless void that Nahadoth birthed, Itempas added gravity, motion, function, and time. For every great star killed in the cross fire, each god used the ashes to create something new—more stars, planets, sparkling colored clouds, marvels that spiraled and pulsed. Gradually, between the two of them, the universe took shape. And as the dust of their battling cleared, both gods found that they were pleased.
Which of them made the first overture to peace? I imagine there were false starts at first—broken truces and the like. How long before hatred turned to tolerance, then respect and trust, then something more? And once it finally did, were they as passionate in love as they had been in war?
There is a legendary romance in this. And most fascinating to me, most frightening, is that it isn’t over yet.
T’vril left for work at dawn. We exchanged few words and a silent understanding: the previous night had just been comfort between friends. It was not as awkward as it could have been; I got the sense he expected nothing else. Life in Sky did not encourage more.
I slept awhile longer and then lay awake in bed for a time, thinking.
My grandmother had said Menchey’s armies would march soon. With so little time, I could think of few strategies that had any real chance of saving Darr. The best I could do was delay the attack. But how? I could seek allies in the Consortium, perhaps. Ras Onchi spoke for half of High North; perhaps she would know—no. I had watched both my parents and Darr’s warrior council devote years to the quest for allies; if there were friends to be had, they would have made themselves known by now. The best I could do were individual sympathizers like Onchi—welcome, but ultimately useless.
So it would have to be something else. Even a few days’ reprieve would be enough; if I could delay the attack until after the succession ceremony, then my bargain with the Enefadeh would take effect, earning Darr four godly protectors.
Assuming they won their battle.
So: all or nothing. But risky odds were better than none, so I would chase them with all I had. I rose and went in search of Viraine.
He was not in his laboratory. A slim young servant woman was, cleaning. “He’s at the oubliette,” she told me. Since I had no idea what this was, or where, she gave me directions and I set out for Sky’s lowermost level. And I wondered, as I walked, at the look of disgust that had been on the servant woman’s face.
I emerged from the lift amid corridors that felt oddly dim. The walls’ glow was muted in a strange way—not as bright as I’d grown used to, flatter somehow. There were no windows and, most curious, no doors, either. Apparently even servants did not live this far down. My footsteps echoed from ahead as I walked, so I was not surprised to emerge from the corridor into an open space: a vast, oblong chamber whose floor sloped toward a peculiar metal grate several feet in diameter. Nor was I surprised to find Viraine near this grate, gazing steadily at me as I entered. He had probably heard me the moment I stepped off the lift.
“Lady Yeine.” He inclined his head, for once not smiling. “Shouldn’t you be at the Salon?”
I hadn’t been to the Salon in days, or reviewed my assigned nations’ records, either. It was hard to care about these duties, considering. “I doubt the world will falter for my absence, now or in the next five days.”
“I see. What brings you here?”
“I was looking for you.” My eyes were drawn toward the grate in the floor. It looked like an exceptionally ornate sewer grate, apparently leading to some sort of chamber under the floor. I could see light glowing from within that was brighter than the ambient light of the room Viraine and I stood in—but that odd sense of flatness, of grayness, was even stronger here. The light underlit Viraine’s face in a way that should have sharpened the angles and shadows in his expression, but instead it stripped them away.