Artemis Invaded (11 page)

“It's like a big swimming pool,” Griffin said, “complete with drains. I wonder where all the water went?”

“There's probably a holding basin,” Terrell said. “I'm guessing that overflow ultimately ends up in Maiden's Tear, but the seegnur would not have wanted the water to dump directly in there without some sort of intermediate stop. Otherwise the lake waters would become turbulent and muddy without reason. That would be as good as announcing that there was a hidden source of water that had just emptied out.”

“Good point,” Griffin said. “I never realized just how thorough a factotum's education must be.”

“We are educated to think of contingencies,” Terrell replied. “All the better to be of service. Now, seegnur, shall we see if that door is open?”

It wasn't but, with Adara's ability to see in the dark, it did not take them long to locate a panel that, when moved aside, revealed a keyhole shaped to hold the topaz key.

“I'm positive this panel wasn't here before,” Griffin said as he inserted the glittering pendant into its place. “I looked right at this spot.”

“You did,” Adara assured him. “We all did. However, until the other three keys were readied, this was meant to remain invisible. This is different from the other escape hatches we have seen. Those were clearly meant to supply a backup in case the technology failed. This seems to have been meant to keep people out unless they knew exactly what to do.”

“This complex,” Griffin agreed, “seems different. The technology is of an entirely different order. I've seen nothing like these crystalline keys, nor were the surfaces coated to resist water—not even on Mender's Isle where that would have been useful.”

Terrell frowned. “So if this setup wasn't meant to provide an escape route, what was it for?”

Adara pressed her finger into the middle of the sparkling spiral. “There's only one way to find out, isn't there?”

The doors slid apart with hardly a sound. A line of pale blue light glowed to life, illuminating the outline of a corridor otherwise in shadow.

It was one thing to hear about such miracles, but another thing entirely to see them happening. Adara stepped back inadvertently, then worried that the men would think her a coward. However, Terrell looked as startled as she felt and Griffin not much better.

“I guess this light confirms that something is undoing the damage done by the nanobots,” Griffin said. “We've suspected it, what with the metal spider and Artemis's speaking to you but, when nothing in the Sanctum or on Mender's Isle worked…”

Terrell nodded. “Different location, maybe? As the crow flies, Maiden's Tear is actually closer to where you crashed.”

“Possibly … Perhaps this area didn't take as much damage.”

Adara waved them to silence. The blue light wasn't very strong, but it penetrated more deeply than candlelight. Within it, shapes were taking form …

“Griffin, Terrell,” she said. “On the floor ahead … Looks as if there are bodies. Stay behind me.”

She strode forward, acting more confident than she felt. Around her, as if reacting to her motion, the quality of the light changed, the blue hue shifting to a warmer, brighter yellow that better illuminated their surroundings. From the outside, other than the damage to the trail around the cavern's rim and some burn marks, the facility had seemed untouched. Light showed otherwise.

Black streaks along the walls, ceiling, and floor showed where the seegnur's weapons had burned, buckling even those seemingly indestructible building materials. The corridor was wide enough that a horse-drawn cart could have driven along it with room for flanking outriders. Nonetheless, the heap of bodies nearly blocked it.

Without realizing, Adara had been holding her breath, expecting the stench of corruption. Now she realized this was foolishness. These people had died five hundred years ago. All that gave them the semblance of men and women was the armor they had worn, armor marked across the back of the necks with a narrow sooty line. A second black mark, this one rounded, punched through the pack that rested between the shoulders of each suit of armor.

“Stars above!” Griffin's voice was tight. “They were shot from behind. Probably they were lined up, expecting attack to come through from the door into the cavern. An enemy snuck up behind them. My brother Falkner always says that no matter how carefully you construct any sort of armor, joints are always the most vulnerable point. First shot was to the neck joint, then a finishing shot to the back—that would take out the power supply, weapons.”

Terrell knelt down next to the body nearest to him. With infinite gentleness, he turned the helmet as if hoping to see a face within, but what met his gaze was a skull, remnants of mummified skin stretched tight across the bones.

“I don't disagree,” he said, “not quite. But I don't think it was the joints that made them vulnerable. I think they were shot by someone they trusted. I can't believe the seegnur wouldn't have had the means to provide protection from their own weapons. What use armor otherwise? No … I think these people were murdered.”

Griffin nodded. “I see what you're saying but…”

He never had a chance to finish. From nowhere and everywhere at once a voice, clear and childish, spoke in strange accents:

“Who are you? Speak rightly or be prepared to die.”

*   *   *

That evening, when Julyan came down from his day's spying, he discovered a strange horse tied outside the cottage. Despite lines that spoke of quality and speed, the gelding clearly had been ridden hard. As Julyan mounted the steps, a young woman wearing the badge of a post rider came out of the house, gave him a terse nod, then, without another word, mounted up.

He hurried inside to find the Old One so immersed in a letter that he didn't even acknowledge Julyan's return. It was odd seeing him acting this way. He still wore the colorful fripperies of Maxy, the catamite, but every line of his body was that of the Old One of Spirit Bay, arrogant and in complete control.

Ignoring his employer in turn, Julyan went into the kitchen and worked the pump handle until cold water gushed forth. He'd drunk his fill and splashed the worst of the day's sweat and grit from his face when the Old One came in.

“We're leaving. Tonight. Going back to Spirit Bay. How quickly can you be ready?”

Julyan answered with a question of his own. “Are you sure you want to leave? My report might change your mind.”

“I sincerely doubt it, but you will not get moving until you have told me what you think is so important. Speak.”

“They've found something significant.” Julyan went on to describe what he'd observed that day: how the dull grubbing about in the dirt had changed to more purposeful action, how Adara had vanished for much of the morning. How she had returned for the men. How they had all vanished, returned, vanished again.

Julyan had expected the Old One to be pleased and impressed. Indeed, he had amused himself with imagining what would happen next. His favorite scenario was being told to go down and capture the lot. He'd imagined how Griffin would be shocked, the factotum frightened, and Adara … Oh, he'd enjoyed imagining what she'd do once Julyan had her men in his keeping. How far he could make her go to preserve them …

Even now the thought made him lick his lips and his trousers uncomfortably tight.

But when Julyan finished his report, the Old One looked only mildly interested. “We knew they'd find something eventually. What you learned is helpful in one way. We know where they are. If they've found something, they won't be leaving quickly. Griffin is extremely methodical and Terrell tends to follow his lead. That means we can depart without worrying they'll become bored and we'll lose their trail.”

“You still wish to depart?”

“Didn't I tell you so?” The Old One tucked his letter into an inside pocket of his tunic. “Allies of mine at the college of loremasters in Spirit Bay have asked me to return and look into an interesting matter. A few days ago, something large splashed into Spirit Bay—something large enough to cause waves to crash in the harbor and small boats to be wrecked. Since then, lights have been seen on Mender's Isle.”

“Oh…” Julyan tried hard not to seem impressed, but knew he had failed. “And how did they find you?”

“I left partial notes with three of the loremasters I felt I could trust but who I knew did not completely trust each other. I knew they would never collaborate unless they felt the matter was urgent.”

“Then you anticipated this thing that splashed from the heavens?”

“Not precisely that.” The Old One steepled his fingers. “Griffin confided in me several things that I did not make public, nor will I now. However, they led me to believe it was not impossible that eventually something remarkable might happen. When the situation made it prudent for me to relocate, I took steps so that if such events occurred, I would know.”

“And we leave tonight?”

“Yes. We will take only what can be carried on one pack horse. I will send for the rest later, if it appears we will remain in Spirit Bay.”

“Perhaps,” Julyan suggested, “I should stay here and keep an eye on Griffin and the rest. It's possible something remarkable will happen here, too.”

The Old One shook his head. “That is always a matter for consideration, but I want you with me. You have skills I do not care to do without, nor do I wish to leave Seamus unsupervised.”

Julyan wondered what would happen if he refused, but decided that he did not wish to find out.

“I'll go check on the horses. At least they've had a good rest.”

“Yes,” the Old One replied. “We are going to be pushing them hard.”

*   *   *

“Who are you? Speak rightly or be prepared to die.”

Griffin glanced around wildly, seeking the source of the voice which seemed to come from all directions at once. Then his perspective adjusted and he was back where voices often came from nowhere. Judging from the expressions on Adara and Terrell's faces, they were frightened. Without a word they had moved so that each faced an opposite direction, covering all angles of approach.

“Who are you?” repeated the voice, speaking in an accent that was like, but not quite like, the speech of the Artemesians.

Griffin spoke. “Griffin Dane, of Sierra in the Kyley System. These are my companions, Adara the Huntress and Terrell the Factotum, both of Artemis.”

“None of you are on my list of authorized visitors.”

Despite the precision of the answer, Griffin caught a note of confusion in the voice.

“When was your list last updated?”

A slight pause, then the voice gave a date—a date five hundred years in the past.

“Your list is out of date,” Griffin said confidently. “The current date is…”

He recited it in three different formats, beginning with the one that most historians agreed had been used by the Old Imperials. “If you doubt me, check the stellar alignment. You can do that, correct?”

He was guessing wildly, but if this place had been created by the seegnur then surely there would have been a means of assessing in-system traffic.

“I can,” the voice said, then, “I should … I could … I cannot! Malfunction detected. Uplink reports repeated failures!”

“Wait then,” Griffin said. “Shortly, the sky will darken and you can check manually. You have the capacity?”

“I do … Did … What has … I am remembering … What has happened?”

“What do you last remember?”

Terrell murmured, “Griffin, who are you talking to?”

Griffin held a finger to his lips. Terrell obeyed, but his gaze continued to rove nervously over the corridor, resting repeatedly on the heap of ruined battle armor. Adara was superficially calmer but, when Griffin started speaking, she had padded back to the door into the cavern and now leaned against one edge, assuring herself that their exit remained open.

“What I remember … I remember you are not authorized!”

“Wait until nightfall if you wish,” Griffin suggested. “After you check the stars, I think you will agree with me that it is unlikely that anyone authorized remains. Will you tell me what you remember or shall we wait until you check the stars?”

“I must wait.” The voice sounded distinctly unhappy. “I have no choice. I will wait. I must request that you do not attempt to penetrate further into this facility until I have confirmed the current date. Will you comply?”

Griffin looked at the others. “I hate to say this, but I think we'd better do as this person suggests.”

Adara shrugged. “We came here because you so desired, seegnur. I will be guided by your wisdom.”

Terrell nodded agreement, then motioned to the line of armor. “It's several hours until full dark. I'm not sure I want to wait here with these.”

“And I'm hungry,” Adara added.

Griffin was astonished by their new calm. Then he understood that they were following his lead, trying to act as if this was all some variation on normal.

He spoke to the air. “Shall we return an hour or two after full dark?”

“You have the access keys…” The voice considered. “You may return after full dark. Telescopic sights are active, but orbital relays seem nonfunctional.”

“Very good. We have the access keys. Remember that.”

Without another word, they left, retrieving the oval key when they passed through the door into the cavern. Griffin was aware that he was holding his shoulders very stiff and straight, awaiting a shot that never came. When they were outside of the cavern, Adara held a finger to her lips, then led them some distance away, beyond, Griffin realized after a moment, the area within which Artemis had been “blind.”

“I think we should be able to talk freely here,” Adara said, sinking onto the grass and leaning back against a tree. “Sand Shadow is bringing dinner. She warns you that it is not her fault that it will be cold.”