Chapter 6
When Gallen and Orick took off down the hill toward the vanquishers, Maggie had felt a thrill of fear as she realized they planned to leave her. She buried her face in the dirt, trying to make herself as small as possible, then heard Gallen’s shout.
Below her in the woods, she saw the green and blue lights of wights rushing uphill toward her, and she realized she was in the thick of it.
Her fear suddenly turned to anger. She got up, saw Gallen and Orick struggling to get the bag with the key from a vanquisher. She rushed down the hill, screaming, and bowled into Gallen and Orick, pushing them through the gate.
An icy white light took her, and she had a strange sensation of gliding, as if she were a leaf fluttering through the wind.
Maggie fell back and hit the ground rolling, tumbling against Orick’s warm fur. Gallen landed on top of her. She was furious, wanted to hit someone. Maggie shouted, “Gallen O’Day, you …” Then she just sat and stared, her mouth open in wonder.
They sat in a meadow surrounded by a lush forest, thick with undergrowth. It felt like summer. A warm evening breeze rushed across her back, ruffling her hair, and in the distance a tiny oblong lavender moon hung on the horizon behind a swirl of clouds.
There was no sign of a gate from this side. Maggie looked around, just to be sure. All around them, broad-leaved trees whispered and rippled in waves under the wind. Locusts sang in the darkness. Overhead was a sky filled with more stars than Maggie had ever imagined.
Gallen got up, folded his arms and stood staring. “What?” he asked, absently. Orick sniffed the air.
“Gallen, is your head filled with nothing but blubber?” Maggie shouted. “You’ve done it to us bad! I don’t like the looks of this place.”
“Fale,” Gallen whispered under his breath. “The vanquishers called it Fale.”
Suddenly, carried on the wind, there were screeching sounds from above. A flock of white birds hurtled overhead in the twilight, creaking like rusty hinges, some diving into the trees as if to catch insects in the air. The birds passed.
Gallen put his hand to his mouth and shouted, “Everynne? Veriasse?” He stood waiting for an answer. None came.
“I can’t smell them,” Orick grumbled, standing on his hind legs to sniff at the wind. “Not even the faintest trace of a scent. They didn’t come out here.”
“What?” Maggie asked. “They had to come out here. They came through not five minutes ago!”
“Maybe,” Gallen wondered aloud, “it’s not like a gate so much as a hallway. Maybe it branches. Leading to different places. Everynne called it a maze of worlds. Maybe we made a wrong turn.”
Maggie looked at the sky full of whirling stars and an odd-shaped moon. The trees smelled strange, and the evening breeze was soft and warm. Nothing like Tihrglas. She couldn’t begin to imagine where they might be.
“You mean we got off on the wrong world somehow?” she asked. “Gallen, you reeking bag of fish, I ought to knock you in the head! What did you have to do this for? What were you thinking, going after the key that way? You could have gotten us all killed! I know what you were after—that woman Everynne. You’ve been hot for her from the moment you first saw her. Why, if someone lopped off your head, it would be no loss. Your gonads would still do all the thinking!”
Gallen shrugged. “The vanquishers had another key. I had to warn Veriasse. Besides, I didn’t ask either of you two to come along.”
Maggie glared at him. “You left me! Both you and your dumb bear left me. As soon as those ogres began shouting, every wight in the country rushed up the hill toward us. I had to throw in with you! And if I hadn’t come to your aid, we’d have all been killed! We could have all stayed home, hidden safe in the woods, but now…!”
Gallen said, “I’m sorry. I would never wish any harm on you. I’d never have dragged you into this.”
He had such an expression of grief on his face, and he spoke with such sincerity, that Maggie had a hard time staying angry. She pointed her finger at him and then shook her fist. “Just admit one thing. Just be honest about one thing: don’t you dare tell me that you came here to talk to Veriasse. It was Everynne you were after. You’ve been giving her looks all day, and don’t you dare deny it, Gallen O’Day, or I’ll beat you with a stick.”
Gallen shrugged. “I couldn’t just let her get killed.”
Maggie figured that was as much of a confession as she’d ever get from him. She got up and looked furiously for the crystal key. She had fallen on it when she rolled through the gate. Its lights were gently fading. Maggie picked it up. She could see little worms of silver inside, bits of wire and small circles made of gold, odd things that looked like a priest’s communion wafer.
Orick grunted. “I’m hungry. Is anybody else hungry? Where do you think we could get some food?”
“Aye,” Gallen said, “I’m hungry. And thirsty, and tired. And I’ve no idea which way to go, do you?”
Orick gave a little bawl, bear talk for, “No, and it really makes me mad.”
“If we head off on a straight path,” Gallen said, “maybe we’ll meet up with a river or a road.”
Maggie looked toward the falling moon on the horizon. It seemed as good a direction as any to take, and if she left it to Gallen and Orick, they’d never make up their minds. She began hiking through the forest and the others were forced to follow.
The uneven ground featured no real hills be few flat spots. They pushed their way through broad-leaved plants that made the sound of tearing paper, and everywhere she could hear mice or rats running through the dry undergrowth. Often, tumbled white stones protruded from the ground.
Every few minutes, Gallen called Everynne’s name, but after nearly two hours, Maggie got angry. “Will you quit that bawling. She’s nowhere near here, so you might as well put a cork in it.”
Gallen fell silent. Though they walked a long time, the moon still lay in the sky like a glowing blue eye, warm and distant. It had hardly moved at all. They found a small pool of water that reflected night shadows and starlight, then knelt to drink. It tasted slightly salty, but quenched Maggie’s thirst. Nearby, several white birds flew up in the night, screeching and circling.
Orick snuffled in the grass and shouted, “Hey, you two, over here!”
He’d discovered some nests. Maggie opened the first egg and found a bird embryo in it, so left the rest to Orick. Maggie was exhausted. They hadn’t found anything more impressive that what might have been pit trails—no sign of a house or a road.
Not knowing what else to do, she looked for shelter. Aside from the arching trees, she found nothing.
She went to a large white rock, thinking to huddle behind it. It had been sculpted with strange symbols—as if it were part of a building. She looked about. All the white stones had been shaped by hand. They had been hiking through the ruins of a vast city.
Gallen collected two armloads of grass and leaves to use as a blanket, laid them by Maggie in the lee of the rock. The ground was hollowed like a shallow grave or as if some beast often came there to rest, thus packing the soil. Orick lay with Gallen and Maggie, his thick fur warm and welcome.
Gallen called one last time for Everynne. Only the croaking of frogs gave answer. A wind blew cool against Maggie’s skin, like the touch of a silver coin in winter.
Maggie wondered if someone should keep watch, but they’d seen no sign of anything larger than a mouse.
Gallen whispered to himself, “So Father Heany is dead. He was such a clean man. Death is such a small and nasty affair, part of me is shocked he would get involved in it.” He said nothing more. Soon, Gallen breathed deeply in sleep.
Orick sang some bear lullaby to Maggie as if she were a cub:
“Through winters long and cold we’ll sleep.
Don’t you weep, don’t you weep.
With hides and fat, warm we’ll keep,
Though snow grows deep, though snow grows deep.
So let your tired eyes rest, my dear,
And when you wake, I’ll be here.
And when you wake, I’ll be here.”
When the song finished, Orick sprawled a paw over Maggie’s shoulders and licked her face. “I have plenty of winter fat stored,” Orick said. “Next time we find food, you eat.”
Orick closed his eyes.
For some reason, Maggie stared up at the night sky. Hundreds of thousands of stars shone. Directly above was a great pinwheel made of brilliant points of light. Somehow, when she had stepped into this new world, she had not anticipated that all the stars she had known as a child would also be gone. Yet if they were to be replaced by so many stars, in such wondrous arrays, she imagined that she could grow accustomed to them.
Three stars moved fast, in formation, from west to east then dropped toward the treetops in the distance, and Maggie wondered at them. Were these strange stars flying on their own, or were they perhaps distant birds of light, flapping in the darkness?
Maggie gave herself over to fatigue and began to drift. What kind of world have we entered? she wondered. So many trees, nothing to eat. What will become of us?
When Maggie woke, Orick was gone and the moon had set. Gallen slept soundly beside her. Maggie got up, scanned the landscape in a huge circle. It was especially dark under the trees. Orick was nowhere to be seen, but after a few minutes she spotted him in the distance, running toward her between the trees. Orick raised up on his back legs and called, “Hallooo, Maggie. Over here! I’ve found something! Food!”
Maggie was painfully aware of her empty belly. While working at the inn, providing three meals a day for strangers, she had grown accustomed to eating on schedule. But now she had been fasting for over thirty hours. She prodded Gallen’s ribs with her toe. “Get up. It’s time to eat.”
Gallen sat up, rubbed his eyes. “It’s a little more sleep I’m wanting.”
“Up with you, you lout! You’ll sleep better with some food in your tummy.” Maggie realized belatedly that she sounded shrewish—like her own mother before she died. Back in Tihrglas, John Mahoney often warned her about her mouth: “Your mother grew so accustomed to nagging you kids, that she soon started bedeviling everyone in general. I’ll tell you right now, Maggie: I’ll not have you shrieking like a harpy at my customers, as your mother did!”
Maggie bit her lower lip, resolved to control her tongue.
When Gallen and Maggie reached the bear, he began loping through the woods. “I caught scent of it as I was sleeping,” Orick said. They reached a cliff and found themselves looking over a large valley, lush with trees. A broad river cut through the valley. Lights blazed on the water.
It took Maggie several moments to realize what she saw: the river was enormous, and huge ships sailed down it, each bejeweled with hundreds of lights. On the far side of the river was what appeared to be a single building that extended low along the ground for dozens of miles. Fierce bluish lights shone from thousands of windows. In places the land was clear, leaving bits of open meadow and farm. In other places, the building spanned over the water like some colony of mold growing in a neglected mug of ale.
As she watched, bright globes dropped from the sky and fell toward the city, then settled upon rooftops. Perhaps a mile away, a woman in green robes climbed from a shining globe and walked through a door into that vast building.
Maggie drew a breath in exclamation.
“As I said, I picked up the smell when we were sleeping,” Orick explained. “There’s good farmland down there. I smell ripe corn and pears.” Indeed, Maggie saw a few squares of checkered fields and orchards not far off.
“So,” Orick said, “shall we go knock on their door, ask for food?”
“It’s better than starving in the night,” Gallen said.
Maggie felt a deep sense of disquiet. “Are you sure?” she asked. “How do we know what they’ll do to us? What if there are vanquishers about?”
“You just saw that woman get out of her sky coach,” Gallen said. “She looked nice enough. Besides, what if there are vanquishers about? They won’t know us.”
Gallen searched for a way down the embankment and found a narrow footpath. Maggie hesitated, but didn’t want to be left in the dark. They climbed down. The starlight was not enough to see by, and Maggie found herself feeling her way forward through the shadows with a degree of apprehension.
At the bottom of the valley was a lush orchard where some sweet-smelling, pungent fruit had fallen. Orick licked one. “This stuff is pretty good,” he said, and he began eating.
Maggie gave the bear a minute, thinking that if the fruits were poisonous, the bear might start gagging, but Orick showed no sign of dying or taking sick.
“Didn’t you say you smelled corn?” Gallen asked.
“Yeah, over there!” Orick pointed toward the city with his snout. “But why eat feathers when there’s a chicken to be had?” he quoted an old proverb often spoken by bears. Obviously, he preferred this strange fruit.
Maggie cautiously followed Gallen toward the river. Halfway there, he stepped into some bushes and disturbed a buck that leapt up and bounded through the brush.
Maggie’s heart began thumping.
The deer charged uphill toward Orick, and the bear bawled in startlement and ran downhill to pace nervously at Gallen’s side.
They found a paved road by the river and followed it. Often through the trees Maggie glimpsed boats sailing the river or sky coaches rising from the city, yet the night remained quiet.
At last they found a field of ripening corn, the tassels shining silver-gold in the starlight. The corn stalks, at twelve feet, grew taller than any in County Morgan; the huge ears were sweet and full.
Maggie shucked an ear, knelt to eat, and Gallen followed.
Maggie was on her second ear, the sweet kernels dribbling down her chin, when Orick roared, “Spider! Run!”
The bear lunged away.
Maggie looked up. Towering above her, its belly just skimming the corn tassels, stood an enormous creature with six thin legs. The spider’s body itself was a yard across, and Maggie could discern green glowing eyes. One enormous leg whipped out with blinding speed and knocked the cob from Maggie’s hand, another lashed at her.
Gallen shouted and charged, grabbed one of the spider’s legs and twisted, wrenching it free from its body.
The spider shrieked and tried to retreat, but Gallen caught another foreleg and wrenched it free.
The leg brushed against Maggie, striking her with a metallic ring. Maggie screamed and backed away. Suddenly Orick was back at her side, standing on his hind legs and roaring, raking the air with his claws.
The spider’s torso became unbalanced, leaned forward precariously. In that split second, Gallen used the torn leg to club the spider between the eyes. It crashed to the ground, emitting a loud squeal.
Gallen jumped forward and began bludgeoning it. Orick pounced at the same time, holding it down. The two green lamps of its eyes kept shining, and Gallen had to pound at them for several moments before they cracked and the lights faded. Only then, when the lights were out, did Gallen stop beating the creature.
He stood over the broken monster’s carcass, panting. An odd wailing sounded in the distance, a horn that rose and fell, rose and fell. Maggie turned a full circle, looking for more giant spiders. She wondered if this city, these fields, belonged to the giant spider, or maybe a family of spiders. She was in the magical realm of the sidhe now. Who knew what wonders lay in store?
The wailing continued. Orick growled, sniffed at the spider. He pricked his ears up and said, “Something’s coming.”
Maggie heard whispering movement among the cornstalks. Gallen took her hand, and they ran. They crossed the road and hid in the brush, watching as ten more enormous spiders came to patrol the perimeter of the field.
The spiders discovered their dead comrade, and one of them dragged the carcass off while the others raced through the field in a frenzy, hunting.
Gallen frowned. The corn might as well have been a hundred miles away. They wouldn’t dare try to harvest any more from that field. “Come on,” he whispered, pulling Maggie’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
Orick crept ahead, using his night vision and keen sense of smell to scout until the spider-infested fields fell behind. The sky began to brighten, turning to a dull silver as it will before dawn.
A spur of the city sprawled across the river just ahead, and the three had to make a choice—forge on into the city, or return to hide in the wilderness.
Orick glanced back at Gallen and Maggie. The sun was rising quickly. Behind him, the colors of the city walls could be seen, vague swirls of green and purple, like a field of alfalfa in bloom. The walls had rounded contours. Tall trees grew in certain clearings, rising above the city. The forest obscured the road ahead.
“I’m going to sneak up on the highway,” Gallen said, “just to take a look.”
Maggie nodded. Gallen began climbing. As soon as he left, she knew she had to go up there and join him. She hurried to follow. Behind her Orick grumbled, “Damn you for trying to leave me behind!” He rushed after them.
As Maggie climbed onto the highway, it seemed that magic struck. Suddenly, two brilliant lavender suns climbed above the distant mountains, casting a complex network of shadows over the city. As their light touched the highway, it glowed a deep red as if it were made of rubies. The trees at the roadside hissed in the breeze, their long fronds of leaves swaying. Maggie caught the sound of distant music blowing on the wind.
Ahead a shadowed archway led into the city. Several men and women milled about near the arch, seating themselves at tables. The scents of roasting meat and fresh breads wafted from the arch.
“That’s an inn,” Maggie said. “I know an inn when I see it.”
Maggie stood, not quite sure what she saw. Neither Gallen nor Orick dared move forward. Not all of the creatures stirring in that inn were human. A yellow man with enormous spindly limbs leaned his back against one wall near the entrance to the arch. He was bald and naked but for a burgundy loincloth. Maggie suspected that the man would stand over ten feet tall. Other things moving about in the shadowed inn looked like ivory-skinned children with enormous eyes and ears.
Yet there were plenty of normal people inside. Some wore robes in brilliant greens and blues and darkest black, others wore pants and vests of gold with silver headpieces. Yet others were dressed all in silver body armor.
Then the wind shifted and the music swelled with the clear calling of pipes, rumbling drums, and the mellow tones of instruments that Maggie had neither heard before nor imagined. The combination of music and scents and movement of the glittering people in the city called to her, and Maggie knew that if it were the last thing she did, she had to go.
They rushed to the gaping arch, and the yellow spidery man stood to greet them. “Welcome, welcome travelers!” he called in an odd accent. “Food for all travelers, food near the road. Heap a plate to your liking. Enter to eat!”
“How much do you charge for breakfast?” Gallen asked.
The tall man opened his mouth in surprise. “You must have traveled far indeed! Food is such a small thing. Here among the Fale, all eat for free. Please, come in.”
They entered the inn, and the shadows felt cool on Maggie’s face. The music was louder. Maggie cast her eyes about, searching for the band, but the music came from the ceiling, as if the living walls of the building had broken into song. Overhead, small gems shone from dark niches of the room, glowing like lamps that did not burn. In one corner of the inn, people were pulling trays from a stack and piling on cups and silverware. Gallen got in line, and they followed it to a narrow aisle where a row of bushes hid the sounds of a kitchen. Each person in front of them went to a small opening and ordered food, then stuck their tray into the opening. When they pulled the tray out, food was on it.
Gallen set his tray in, asked for rolls, fried potatoes, sausage, fresh raspberries, and milk. He pulled out his tray and had all that he’d asked for.
Maggie looked into the hole. In a well-lighted room on the other side, men made of gold and porcelain were cooking. Each man had six arms and moved so quickly that her eyes were baffled.
Maggie found her curiosity piqued. She would have stared for hours if more people hadn’t gotten into line behind her. Instead, she set her tray into the slot and ordered breakfast. It felt odd, asking for food when she could not see the faces of the metal men. She realized that they must have had phenomenal hearing.
She got her food, and Orick stuck in his tray, ordered quadruple portions for himself. He pulled the tray out a moment later, carrying it in his teeth. He had muffins heaped on a pile of eggs, a string of sausages dangling over the tray, and the whole affair was smothered in honey.
They found an empty table and began to eat. Maggie could not help but watch the strangers around her. At a nearby table sat several people in silk tunics with swirling patterns of green and red and blues. They were talking vociferously and laughing. Beyond them, two other tables were filled with young men and women who wore pants and vests of gold, and silver crowns adorned their heads. Their skin was well-tanned, and they did not speak as they ate. Instead, they looked at each other knowingly and sometimes laughed as if a joke had been spoken.
Those in bright cloaks and those in gold seemed to be of separate castes. The small ivory-skinned men and women who hugged the shadows made up a third group. They wore no clothing at all. As they sat at their benches, the women’s breasts were so small it was hard to distinguish sexes. And then there were the machines—a fourth caste, Maggie decided. From outside they had looked like warriors in armor, but now she saw that the silver men were only machines like those in the kitchens. They moved smoothly through the room, refilling mugs, cleaning tables.
Neither Gallen nor Orick had spoken since entering the building. Maggie wasn’t sure what to say. Should they talk about the strangers? Discuss the wonders they beheld? Something warned her that neither would be prudent. She did not want to call attention to herself.
Maggie felt ignorant. The people here lived among so many marvels—walls that sang, machines that cooked and could fly. Compared to such people, she was a savage. Maggie had always had a quick wit, and for the first time in her life, she felt profoundly undereducated.
Halfway through breakfast, Maggie realized that people were watching them with furtive glances. She whispered to Gallen and Orick, “People are staring at us.”
“Maybe we’re not dressed to their liking,” Gallen whispered.
“Or maybe I’m the only bear they’ve ever seen,” Orick growled. “I can’t smell another anywhere.” Maggie was used to seeing bears in Tihrglas—they often would try to panhandle in town. She hadn’t even noticed the absence of them here.
Gallen glanced around the room and said softly, “Orick, can you pick up Everynne’s scent here? Even the slightest whiff?”
“Believe me,” Orick answered, “if I could catch the slightest trace of that dear creature’s fragrance, I’d pounce on her like a hound on a hare. She’s nowhere near.”
The folks at the nearest table left, affording Gallen, Maggie, and Orick a moment of privacy. “What now?” Gallen whispered. “Do we throw ourselves on the mercy of these townsmen? Do we look for work and try to scratch out a living? Or do we hunt for Everynne?”
“We can’t announce ourselves,” Maggie warned. “We left those vanquishers behind, but for all we know, they could be on our trail at this very moment. If we were to be going around telling everyone that we were strangers, we’d only attract attention. They might even turn us over to the vanquishers.”
Orick said, “By the way folks are staring at me, they must know we’re strangers. Yet they seem mighty hospitable. Free food for everyone! If these are Everynne’s enemies, then maybe we’ve taken up with scoundrels.”
“Hmmm,” Gallen said. “You and Maggie are both right. The folks here seem nice enough, but the vanquishers might be hunting us. We should lie low. Still, there’s more to this city than this one corner. Everynne and Veriasse may be here. I want to go look for them.”
“And leave us alone?” Maggie asked.
“I’d be less conspicuous that way. It would only be for a bit,” Gallen said. At that moment, Gallen caught a startled breath. Maggie followed his gaze.
A man stood in the doorway to the dining room, a man in a black robe with black gloves and tall black boots, a man with a face that shone like golden starlight. Gallen got up clumsily.
“What is it?” Maggie asked, taking Gallen’s wrist.
“Nothing,” Gallen said. “I thought I recognized someone.”
Maggie looked at the silver-faced man. “Him? Where would you have met the likes of him before?”
“Not him,” Gallen said. “The one I saw was dressed the same, but his skin shone lavender. Besides, the man I met was younger and thinner.”
“Where did you meet him?” Orick asked.
“In Coille Sidhe. Last night, a man dressed like that saved my life.” Gallen stretched. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours—sooner, if I find Everynne.” He left the dining room, passed the stranger, and moved into a well-lighted hall.
Maggie watched his back. Right, Gallen O’Day, go chase your mystery woman. I wish you both all the happiness.
The room seemed to close around Maggie. Every few moments, someone would bump her as they tried to get past. The room filled with diners, becoming cramped. She and Orick moved to a table that let her look out over the broad, muddy river. Green barn swallows were skimming over the river, dipping for drinks.
Maggie nibbled at her food and began to think that this place might be heaven. The weather was beautiful, the food delicious, and life here appeared to be simple.
But when Gallen had been gone for nearly an hour, the truth became more apparent: on the ruby road outside the city, six black dronons appeared. They wore odd shoes that let them glide along the road as swiftly as water striders. One of them skated to the inn. Maggie and Orick moved back against the wall, fearing that the creature was searching for them.
The inn became deathly quiet. The dronon was so wide that it could not easily pass between tables, but the gleaming black creature folded its wings and pulled itself slowly under the arch. Its head swayed from side to side as it moved. It held a long, black incendiary gun in one chitinous hand.
It stopped beside Maggie and Orick, and a single long feeler twisted up from beside its mouth. The feeler wrapped around Maggie’s wrist. She stood abruptly, wanting to run, but found she was trapped between two tables with her back against the wall.
The dronon’s feeler held her like a thick cord, binding her in case she should try to flee. Beneath the creature’s mouth was an organ that looked like dozens of small, blunt fingers poised above the stretched membrane of a drum. The fingers began rhythmically tapping, creating an odd thrumming noise not unlike the sound that some deep-voiced locust might make. Yet the thrumming varied greatly in intensity and pitch. Maggie could distinguish words in that music. The dronon was speaking to her.
“You are not from this world. Where are you from?” the dronon demanded.
Maggie froze, not knowing how to answer. She pressed herself farther against the wall. The dronon’s grip tightened, and it raised one arm overhead. She looked up—the arm was heavy, like the claw of a crab, and had a serrated edge. The dronon’s tiny segmented hand had retracted, leaving a single large hooklike claw. If the dronon struck her, the arm would chop her in half like an axe. The dronon hissed, threatening to strike her into oblivion if she did not answer.
“You are not of this world. Where are you from?”
At a nearby table, the man dressed in black robes, the man with a golden face that glowed like starlight, stood and answered. “Great Lord, she is a Silent One from Pellarius!” He stepped forward. “She cannot speak. The singers there thought her voice lacked beauty, so they cut out her vocal cords and sterilized her so that she could not breed. Still, I have purchased her as a worker so that she might serve the greater glory of the dronon empire.”
“What is her function?” the dronon asked.
“She is an aberlain, highly skilled in installing genetic upgrades in the unborn.”
“If she is an aberlain, where is her Guide?” The dronon’s feeler began probing Maggie’s scalp.
“She has been a class-two aberlain,” the stranger said, “and is ready to be promoted to class one. I am having a new Guide created for her at this very moment.”
“Where is her current Guide?” the dronon demanded.
“Here, in my pocket.” The stranger pulled out a wide band of silver, a crown with small lights in it. He held it up for the dronon to see. The dronon warrior abruptly lowered its battle arm.
“May your work prosper the empire,” the dronon said, addressing both Maggie and the stranger in the same breath. It regarded Orick for a moment, then hunched and dragged its massive body through the cafeteria. It turned at the hallway and disappeared into the deeper recesses of the building.
Maggie found herself shaking, dizzy. She could not move. Terror held her in place. The dronon’s feeler had left a gray powder on her arm that burned slightly.
The people in the cafeteria resumed talking. Maggie sagged into her chair. The stranger with the golden face watched her unabashedly. For the past half hour, Maggie had noticed that he had been studying her and Orick with an intensity that others in the room could not match. She did not know how to thank him.
The stranger came to their table. He took her arm, and poured her mug of drinking water over the skin where the dronon had touched her, then began to sponge it with a cloth napkin. “I don’t know where you are from,” he whispered, “but you obviously know nothing of the dronon. I envy that.” He sponged her face and scalp. “The first lesson you must learn is that the dronon’s exoskeleton produces a weak acid. They come from a dry world, and the acid coating is an effective addition to their immune system. But if they touch you, you must wipe off the acid to avoid getting burned.”
He set down the napkin and peered into her face, ignoring Orick. The stranger had a strong jaw, penetrating brown eyes. Up under his black hood, he wore a silver headdress, much like the one Everynne had worn. Long silver chains dangled from it with hundreds of small triangles, like some metallic wig. She wondered why he would hide this beautiful headdress under a cloak, but did not ask.
“So,” the stranger said, “my name is Karthenor, Lord of the Aberlains.”
“I … I saw you watching me earlier,” Maggie said.
“Forgive my inquisitiveness,” Karthenor said. “I did not mean to offend you. But I have never seen anyone dressed like you, nor have I ever seen anyone like your friend.” Karthenor glanced at Orick and said with a tone of dismissal as if Orick were a child, “I recognize the species. He is a bear.”
“A black bear!” Orick grumbled.
“Excuse me,” Karthenor said, raising a brow. He looked at Orick with a new degree of respect. “He is a genetically enhanced black bear.” He addressed Orick, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Karthenor pulled up a chair. Maggie could sense an eagerness in him, an expectancy she associated with traders who wanted to sell something. “You and your friend have been watching us, too. I suspect that you find us to be as strange as we find you. Am I right?”
Maggie studied his golden face. She could not think of a lie. In fact, she didn’t know if she should tell one. She knew only that she wanted an ally, and Karthenor offered help. Gallen’s brief mention that another man dressed like this had saved his life inspired her to a degree of confidence that was perhaps dangerous, but on impulse she said, “We came here through the World Gate. Yes, we do find it strange.”
Karthenor leaned back in surprise, his voice so neutral that Maggie could not guess what he might be thinking. “You came through a World Gate? What is your name? Where are you from?”
“My name is Maggie Flynn—from the town of Clere.”
Karthenor looked at her impassively, then bowed deeply. “I am honored to meet you, Maggie Flynn from the town of Clere. I … hope that I am not being too inquisitive, but may I ask what world you hail from?”
“Earth,” Maggie answered.
The stranger seemed perplexed. He stared at Maggie and Orick with a bemused expression, rested his elbows on the table, and touched a gloved finger to his lips. “Which Earth are you referring to? You obviously speak English, so you’ve been genetically engineered to remember our language. Yet you speak it with an odd accent, one I’ve never heard.”
“Earth,” Maggie said. “Where I live.”
The stranger turned his head to the side, thinking. “What continent are you from on this Earth of yours?”
“Tihrglas,” Maggie said.
“Ah, that Earth!” The stranger smiled. He folded his hands, looked at Maggie and Orick appraisingly. “Surely you did not find a gate key just lying around on Tihrglas? How did you come by it?”
Maggie felt inexplicably frightened. It had nothing to do with Karthenor’s mannerisms. He seemed kindly, hospitable. But Maggie froze, not letting the stranger prod her further.
“Ah, forgive me! I’ve frightened you,” Karthenor whispered, and his golden face crinkled in a beneficent smile. “Obviously, because you are a stranger to our land, you do not know our ways. Here on Fale, we are very open with each other. Perhaps you find this … disconcerting. Please, ask me any questions first, if this will put you at ease.”
“Are you human?” Orick asked.
Karthenor smiled, touched his own cheek. “You mean the mask? Of course I am human, by most standards.”
“Why do you wear the mask, then?” Maggie asked.
“To reveal,” Karthenor said, taking Maggie’s hand companionably. “It is a style here. The masks reveal our innermost selves. Those who do not wear the mask may hide emotions from one another, but when one wears the mask of Fale, he cannot hide behind his flesh and is ever forced to reveal his true emotions. Those of us who wear masks can practice no deceit. That is why, among all worlds, those who wear the mask of Fale are known to be trustworthy.” He smiled gently at Maggie, and in that moment, Maggie felt ashamed for having distrusted him.
Karthenor held her hand, as if she were a child, and smiled as he looked out past the veranda to the swallows dipping in the wide river. Children were out on the water now, riding the backs of giant geese. “If you like, I can give you a tour of our city,” Karthenor offered. “If you come from Tihrglas, you will find it quite marvelous. Not at all like your home, I dare say.”
“You’ve been to Tihrglas?” Orick asked.
“Heavens no,” Karthenor answered. “I don’t travel, but there are records. What do you know of Fale?”
“Nothing.”
“Well then, it is time you learned. Our ancestors once lived together on the same world, long ago. A planet called Earth, but not the same Earth that you live on now.”
Maggie looked at Karthenor suspiciously but said nothing as he continued. “On that planet, our ancestors had descended from animals, and there they acted the part—always warring, seeking wealth.
“Eventually, they developed space flight and journeyed to distant stars. There was an explosion of knowledge and technology unlike anything ever before. Machines learned to think. Men learned to hold death at bay and extend their lives for millennia. We met new races, new allies who also traversed among the stars.
“Still there were wars, still there was poverty and sadness. So some of our ancestors rejected technology, decided to live on backward planets in rustic settings. They came to be known as Backwards, and eighteen thousand years ago, some of them settled on your world. They took only the most basic tools—a few genetic upgrades that would let them remain relatively healthy and transmit an inborn memory of English. They took seeds for house-trees and plants.
“That is where our ancestors split: my ancestors were Forwards. They embraced technology and traveled to the stars.” Karthenor waved his hand in a gesture that encompassed the sky.
“How do you know about our ancestors?” Maggie asked. “I’ve never heard these tales.”
Karthenor touched the silver headdress, the tiny triangles. “My mantle is telling me about it,” he said. “The mantle is a teaching machine that knows far more than any human.” Maggie studied the ringlets and triangles. “Would you like to learn about such things? I have another teaching device here.” His golden face was strangely intense. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the silver crown and gave it to Maggie. She held it, turned it over. The outside of the band showed only a single opening, a small window. But inside were colored lights. Two tiny prongs protruded so that they would push gently into the back of the wearer’s neck.
“This is a Guide,” Karthenor said. “Here in Fale, it is considered to be a thing of great worth. I want to give it to you, as a gift. You are a beautiful young woman. You will need it if you are to make a living here.”
Maggie asked, “What does it do?”
“It is a teaching device, to make you wise,” Karthenor said. “It is not only beautiful when worn in your hair, but very valuable. If you wear it, you will learn all of the secrets of how to become an aberlain. You will learn how to create life, shape the human genome into new complexities so that future generations will be wiser, stronger, and better servants of society than they are now. If you choose to wear such a Guide, you would become rich beyond imagination, and in time your wealth and power will rival that of the Lords. Here, let me show you how to put it on.”
A hundred questions flooded through Maggie’s mind: If it was so valuable, why would Karthenor simply give it to her? She realized now that many of the people here in the cafeteria wore similar Guides. They were the ones who ate silently, seemed to have no need to communicate with words. She wondered how long Karthenor would let her wear the thing.
Karthenor lifted the crown. It was bow-shaped and would not fit completely around Maggie’s head. Instead, Karthenor began to put it on from behind, so that the ends of the bow touched the top of Maggie’s neck. Just as it touched her, another question flooded into Maggie’s mind, one that had nothing to do with the Guide: If Karthenor’s mask kept him from lying, then how could he have lied to the dronon?
The cool metal Guide wrapped around Maggie’s forehead. A faint itching pierced her skin where the prongs touch.
“There now,” Karthenor said. “This will be your Guide. It shall teach you all things that you shall do. It will be your comforter and your constant companion. With it, you shall learn many great things.”
Maggie looked up. Karthenor’s black robes silhouetted his golden face, and Maggie looked into his malicious grin. She clawed at the Guide, trying to pull it free, and a raging fire seemed to sweep through her head. Tears rolled down her face, burning like molten lead. Maggie cried out and fell to the floor, gasping.
“Get that off her!” Orick roared. Karthenor glanced back at the bear, waved his hand. A web of thin gray wires, so small that they could hardly be seen, shot out from a device at Karthenor’s wrist. The webs struck Orick and the wall, gluing the bear in place. Orick roared in terror and tried to claw his way free, but the tiny net held.
“Help!” Maggie shouted, rolling on the floor, looking to the others in the room.
Karthenor’s image swirled, and Maggie watched him through a fog of pain and dismay. He bent low and hissed, “No one can help you. I am a Lord here. Don’t try to remove the Guide—it will only punish you for your efforts! Now: tell me how you got through the gate at Tihrglas! Where did you find the key?
Maggie’s muscles went limp, and though she fought to move, she could not control her arms, could not budge a muscle. Yet as Karthenor had promised, the Guide began to teach her.
In an overwhelming instant, knowledge coursed into her like a pure foaming river, filling her with more facts than she’d ever thought she could know. The tide of human learning cascaded over her, drowning her, and she despaired.
In one marvelous moment, Maggie understood the work of an aberlain. With the Guide to help her, she would spend the rest of her life altering the genetic makeup of the unborn children, making them into better servants for the dronon empire. In return, each child and their offspring in perpetuity would become indebted to Maggie and her Lord Karthenor. Though they sweated for a thousand generations, a portion of all their earnings would be deducted for payment. The work of aberlains had been illegal until six years ago, had been considered immoral.
But now the dronon ruled, and in the dronon society, each creature was born into a caste he could never escape. Images flashed before Maggie’s eyes of her dronon leaders: the Golden Queen, Tlitkani, who had so recently seized control of six thousand worlds; the black Lord Vanquishers, her soldiers; the small, sand-colored artisans of dronon society; and the vast oceans of white-skinned workers. Each was born to its place, and the dronons now sought to remake mankind in their own image.
Karthenor, Lord of Aberlains, was one of mankind’s greatest enemies on this world. Through genetic manipulation, he hoped to engineer a race of slaves and reap endless profit.
And through the Guide, Maggie would become a slave. The Guide stored information on an atomic level. The silver band housed billions of volumes of data along with transmitters and receivers. Already, the Guide’s nanotech components were creating artificial neurons to thread through her cerebrum and brain stem, binding her to the machine. Within hours, she and the machine would be one.
Maggie looked up at Karthenor with undisguised hatred. “I know you!” she growled. The effort caused her great pain.
Karthenor laughed, “Now, see, your eyes are beginning to open already. In your own small way, you are becoming like one of the gods. I want you to think about gods for a moment, and tell me where you got their key.”
Karthenor waved his hand. Two silver android servants came to the table, lifted Maggie by each arm, and began dragging her into the recesses of the building. Orick roared and growled in rage, but he could not save her.
When Karthenor said the word “gods,” the world went gray as information flooded her senses. Just as Maggie had this small Guide enmeshed in her brain, others across the galaxy were joined to larger intelligences. Karthenor’s silver mantle stored far more information than Maggie’s Guide, yet some immortals were connected to intelligences the size of an entire planet. They were gods.
In her mind’s eye, Maggie saw Semarritte, the great judge who had ruled this sector of the galaxy for ten thousand years. She was a woman of proud bearing and dark hair, very much like Everynne, but older. Semarritte had built the gates at the beginning of her reign as a means of traveling between worlds quickly. Yet to protect herself, she had kept the method for constructing the gate keys a secret.
In one bitter moment, Maggie understood that Everynne was the daughter of Semarritte, and that Everynne had stolen the gate key in a desperate bid to win back her mother’s worlds.
Karthenor and his servants dragged Maggie down a long hall. With each jarring step it felt as if the androids would pull her arms from her sockets. They passed shops and hallways and came to a blank wall which turned to mist when Karthenor touched it.
They entered a living room with comfortable sofas and luxurious white rugs. The androids laid Maggie on the floor, and Maggie’s lips began to move against her will.
She lay helplessly and listened to herself tell Karthenor of the Lady Everynne, of the dronon that dogged her trail in Tihrglas, and of Gallen’s own naive efforts to aid Everynne. With each word, Maggie betrayed Gallen, herself, the Lady Everynne—every human on every world.
Sometimes Karthenor would stop her, ask a question, such as, “And where is your friend Gallen now?” No matter how hard Maggie sought to lie, the whole truth came out. She could not will her mouth to shut.
When Maggie finished, tears rolled down her face. Karthenor said, “Go to your quarters.”
Maggie suddenly knew where her sleeping quarters lay in an upstairs loft. She willed herself to run away but could not move her feet. She moved to the rhythm of the machines.
This is your home now, the Guide whispered. You will serve Karthenor. I will teach you what you must do. Stiffly, the Guide moved Maggie’s legs and arms, taking her down a sterile white corridor, up a long staircase. Maggie watched, knowing that she was no longer human. She climbed into bed, then lay down, thinking. The Guide was always thinking.
Maggie had one hope: Gallen O’Day.