Banner of souls (26 page)

"It costs money to make such voyages," Dreams-of-War said, "but you have riches, clearly. If I had that kind of wealth, I would wish to journey as far as I could, to the very ends of the Chain, perhaps even as far as Night-shade."

Yskatarina laughed. "You would not be permitted to visit Nightshade. The lab clans do not admit outsiders; you must know that."

Dreams-of-War shrugged. "I was not sure if they made exceptions."

"They make no exceptions. Believe me."

Yskatarina's voice was light, dancing like the reflection of the lamps on the water, but Dreams-of-War wondered once more about the currents that ran below.

"I know little of Nightshade," she said, probing.

"No one does," Yskatarina replied, still lightly "It is a dark, closed world."

"I've heard rumors that they run programs, to cross-breed, to mix human genes with those of ancient animals, to produce a perfect being. Do you think they have had any success?" Dreams-of-War said, carefully casual.

"I have no idea. It's out-world rumor, probably noth-ing more. Interesting, though." Yskatarina sounded sin-cere, but Dreams-of-War was not deceived. "Look, they have secured the junk."

"I need to go ashore," Dreams-of-War said. "I have questions that must be answered."

Yskatarina nodded. "Very well. I will see you later. Good luck with your questions."

Impatiently, Dreams-of-War left the ship and brushed past the throng of kappa that congregated along the dock, which was no more than a mass of roughly cut blocks of stone, slippery with seaweed and water. She felt the treads of the armor alter against the soles of her feet, to provide her with a better grip, but even so, she nearly fell. Humili-ated, Dreams-of-War glanced around to see who might be watching. The kappa were all gazing at her, gleaming eyes betraying nothing. Dreams-of-War strode angrily on. At the end of the dock she was forced to press through a knot of the creatures that huddled, murmuring in low liquid voices, before a small metal gate.

"Let me through!" Dreams-of-War said, and her voice sounded harsher and more panicky than she would have liked. Half a dozen mild eyes stared at her incuriously, but the kappa did not move. "Out of my way!" She was grate-ful for the armor, which kept out the touch of their thick clammy bodies, but she was still forced to make contact. Repelled, she stumbled out of the gate into the street.

Here it was silent, and there was no one in sight. Dreams-of-War stalked through soft darkness, illuminated periodically by glowing lamps. She recalled the dry burn of the moss-lamps of the clan house with a distant, half-realized nostalgia.

A tumble of tenements rose above her, climbing up-ward from the street, ascending in layers. Small windows curved out at the level of Dreams-of-War's feet; she reached down and touched them with brief curiosity. They were smooth and warm to the touch. She recognized some kind of plastic; they must be very old. Certain of the win-dows were partially buried in the packed earth, as though the buildings had sunk beneath their own weight. Dreams-of-War looked up. The upper reaches of the tenements were equally unusual: wood and thick laminated paper. So many of the trees of Earth were under the floodwaters, sad rotting stumps. Had they imported the wood from some lunar forest? She thought of Tsukiyomi on Luna, last remaining outpost after the stone-plague: the acres of fir beneath sparkling domes, the air electric with resin and quietness, studded with entrances to the under-ground labyrinth of the laboratories. But imported wood was surely a province of the very wealthy. Perhaps the kappa had taken over the mansions of the rich and the dead…

Along the upper storys, faux metal gleamed in the lights from the bay Dreams-of-War reached the end of the street and looked around her. No sign of the harbor of-fice and no one to ask…

Dreams-of-War quietly seethed. Then she spotted a narrow alley, leading between two of the tall houses.

A light shone at its end.

Dreams-of-War stepped into the alley. It smelled pun-gent, of rotting fish and something else, something spicier that she was unable to identify. There was nothing to remind her of the air of Mars, odor constantly betraying the absence of home. Dreams-of-War found the source of the light and halted.

A low building, made of driftwood, the cracks crammed with dried weed, was stuffed in between the neigh-boring buildings. Not promising. Dreams-of-War banged imperiously upon the door.

After a moment, it opened. An anxious, moonlike face peered forth.

"Yes? What is it?"

"I'm looking for the harbormistress."

"Come in."

Dreams-of-War followed the shuffling figure into a room so low that she could not stand upright.

"Sit, sit." It was a kappa, indistinguishable from all others. Perhaps the armor might be able to tell them apart. She did not like the idea of being surrounded by a horde of identical creatures: too much room for ambivalence, error, deceit. Could Lunae's nurse be trusted? Dreams-of-War was no longer certain and, now that she considered the is-sue, she was not sure that she had ever been.

"You are not from Earth," the kappa said.

"Obviously not. I am a Martian warrior."

"Indeed, you have an Arian air," the kappa remarked whimsically. It seemed to be clad in sackcloth; it had a strong, shellfish smell. Dreams-of-War decided to breathe through her mouth.

"Doubtless so. I have come because of a difficulty. My ship was attacked, and—"

"You have come in on the junk belonging to Aya-datarahime Sek? Yes, we heard about it."

"Do you know what attacked us?"

The kappa shrugged. Folds of flesh slid up its bared arms, formed tight rolls of fat, slid away once more. "A be-ing riding a swarm-host."

"A swarm-host?" Dreams-of-War frowned. "What's that?"

"Some form of nanotech. I don't know how they make it behave as it does." The kappa gave an indifferent shrug.

"Do you know where they come from?"

"Death-dealers are commonly owned by the war-madams, of whom there are many, but only one person commands swarm-technology in these waters, and that is Prince Cataract."

"Who is she? He," Dreams-of-War corrected.

"He is a warlord. No one knows where his base is to be found, but he has a private army of snake-kin and other made-beings."

"Do they often prey upon shipping?"

"No. He is not a bandit. It is unusual."

"Do you have any idea why this thing attacked us?"

"I do not know. What became of this thing?"

"I killed it. It was not human. I pulled its face away. There was some kind of rudimentary brain inside the skull."

"And what was the ship carrying?"

"I was in charge of my ward. She is just a young girl, nothing more. She went overboard with the kappa who is her nurse. Someone spoke of sea palaces. If there is any hope that the kappa took her to a place of safety, I must know."

"This kappa. What was her name?"

Dreams-of-War bridled. "I have no idea. Do you have names?"

She thought that the kappa smiled, but it was hard to tell from the broad, lipless mouth. Perhaps the kappa snarled.

"Of course, just as you do. It would be helpful if we knew which clan she comes from. Everyone has their se-cret harbors, their holds and sanctuaries. I could not tell you where they all lie. We have our tribes and factions. Just as you do."

"This particular kappa was employed by folk in Fra-grant Harbor. Everyone calls them the Grandmothers; they lived in a mansion called Cloud Terrace, at the sum-mit of the Peak, which has since been destroyed."

"I know of them. I will make inquiries. I think I may know already whom you mean. In which case—well. We shall see. Return to your ship; do not linger. There are those here who have no love for the people of Mars. I will send word to the ship when I have it. It is unlikely to be before morning."

"Very well," Dreams-of-War said, though she did not like it. "I will do as you suggest."

She left the dank room with relief, feeling cramped and tainted.

There are those here who have no love for the people of Mars
. What was that supposed to mean? The ingratitude of the people of Earth was a continual irritant to Dreams-of-War, like a grain of sand between the armor's heel and her skin. There was no reason for such hatred. No doubt it was attributable solely to resentment of those who were congenitally superior, Dreams-of-War reminded herself, and instantly felt better.

She returned to the junk without incident. The decks were empty. She passed Yskatarina's cabin, but the door was firmly shut and there was no sound from within.

Much later, Dreams-of-War snapped from sleep. She did not know what had awoken her, but the armor was bris-tling and prickling like a wild creature. It would, she thought, make a mess of the mattress. There was a sound coming from outside the ship, in the direction of the dock: a thin, high keening. It did not sound like either kappa or human. There was a hiss from the armor: a single word.

"Excissieres."

Dreams-of-War was up off the bed and onto her feet before the sibilance had faded.

"Memnos's executioners? Here? Why have they come? Can you hear them? Are they broadcasting?"

"They've come to take you in," Yskatarina's voice said from the shadows. Dreams-of-War turned.

"You!"

"My companion picked up their frequency just now. They arrived by drop-boat a short time ago.

Memnos has sent them."

"And you came to tell me this because—?"

"I can help you, if you'll let me."

"Always so helpful. Why?"

"I don't have any love for Memnos. It would take too long to explain why." The creature crackled in the corner of the room, sinking down into a bony knot of limbs. "That makes us allies, of a kind. You've failed, have you not? You've lost the girl, and they're going to bring you back." Without the customary lenses, Yskatarina's eyes were huge in the darkness, bearing a faint luminescence.

"You're from Nightshade, aren't you? I thought they did good business with Memnos. I'm wearing part of it."

Yskatarina betrayed no surprise, did not ask her how she knew. "I suggest we make a move," she said.

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Yskatarina was surely not Kami, for she did not shift and blur, but she was of Nightshade, and that was bad enough. Yet Dreams-of-War was unwilling to face a squadron of excissieres.

"They are coming!" the armor said urgently.

Yskatarina shrugged. "Have it your own way. But I can get you out of here. All that I am proposing is a temporary alliance, nothing more."

"Where are we to go, then?" Dreams-of-War asked.

"I have a plan. Follow me."

Elsewhere

Within, the cavern was cool and strangely bright. Lunae could not tell where the light was coming from, but it fell all around her as softly as rain. The walls were covered with carvings, but they were so old that nothing more than a trace of the reliefs remained. Then she looked again, and thought that perhaps the patterns were only fungal infesta-tions, or the rivulets carved by water. The floor, however, was smooth and hard, marble-veined. At the far end of the cavern stood a statue, but when she looked at it again, it was just an outcrop of stone.

Essa, ignoring her surroundings, glided forward.

"Where is this person?" the kappa demanded, sibilant voice hissing in echo from the walls of the temple.

"She will be down among the fumes," Essa said. She paused for a moment to pat the rough russet hair between her horns back into place, then vanished into the wall. Lunae, startled, followed and found a slitted opening. A breath of heavy air came from it: resinous and strong, forest-fragrant, followed by the sudden, salt-laden scent of the sea. Lunae stepped into it and followed Essa downward.

The light here was somehow faded and stained, but still enough by which to see. Lunae trod upon metal steps, sending echoes up against the walls. The scent changed and grew stronger: old roses, an amberous pungency. Soon, the air itself began to thicken, until Lunae de-scended through a sultry haze.

Behind her, the kappa be-gan to wheeze.

At the base of the steps, Lunae found herself in a small, round chamber filled with fumes. The smoke was so heavy that it was difficult to see. Her eyes watered.

"Come forward," she heard Essa say.

Stumbling a little, Lunae did so. A figure swam out of the smoke, seated at a tripod brazier. Essa grasped her hand and again there was that odd sensation of unhuman fingers against her own. But when she looked down, Essa's supple hand seemed wholly usual. For Lunae, however, the betraying sensation could not be overlooked. She snatched her hand away.

"What are you? Are you Kami?"

"Not Kami. She is a haunt." The figure seated at the tripod spoke.

"A haunt?"

"A spirit in a shell of flesh."

"Isn't that what everyone is?"

"You know that the Kami possess others? They seek bodies for their convenience. But unless the possession is undertaken in early childhood, or lasts over a long period so that spirit and body have a chance to settle into phase, the new flesh retains a memory of its original physical host. That is why so many of them look one way and feel another. But Essa is born out of the land itself: nanotech, inhabited by a spirit from the far past."

"And who, in that case," the kappa said, still wheez-ing, "are you?"

Lunae went to crouch by the figure, looking up into her face. But the hood that the seated woman wore was en-veloping, and her features were concealed within. The voice was remote and distorted by a curious buzz of static: a product of voice-technology or a deliberate device to hide identity? There was something familiar about the fig-ure, all the same.

"You should not fear Essa," the form continued. "She does not share the ambitions of the Kami. This is why we have brought you here."

"We?"

"It hasn't been easy to bring you through time," the woman said. "To take advantage of the snatched moments when you shifted the temporal fabric, drifted free within the stream of time and could be ensnared."

"Like a fish on a hook?"