Bright of the Sky (18 page)

An almost-invisible smile played at the corner of Suzong’s mouth, and Quinn let himself breathe at last.

It was then that his training began, that very afternoon. Anzi led him to a small courtyard, its soil hard-packed and raked. Here, she began instructing him in all that he should know for that false identity they had chosen for him, that of a soldier of Ahnenhoon. It would be expected that he could fight with Chalin skills, using staffs and short knives, and the weapons of his hands, feet, and body. He and Anzi knew it was likely he
would
fight, even in this peaceful realm where so much was ordered. So, when he fought, it must be like a Chalin warrior.

He must, in all ways, become a more perfect Chalin man. Because he must pass under the very noses of his enemies. He must, Yulin said, travel to the Ascendancy first, before attempting to reach the Inyx sway.

No one came to that remote sway without official business, such as delivery of prisoners. The Inyx precincts were tight, clannish, and suspicious, not welcoming—and hardly permitting—visitors. Under these circumstances, Quinn would need an approved mission.

Yulin said that only one purpose would logically originate with him: one having to do with the protocols of leadership on the death fields before Ahnenhoon. Yulin was, in title, commander of the Chalin-led forces of the Long War. He would therefore provide a new decree that allowed Inyx to have leadership roles in battle for the first time. Such a decree, called a clarity, would be brought to the Inyx personally by Dai Shen. A brilliant stroke on Yulin’s part, the new clarity offered a chance to curry favor with the Inyx, a matter of the first importance to the Tarig, even if Chalin legates considered the Inyx barbarians.

But first, the matter must be approved by the legates governing affairs, and the center of this vast administration was the Magisterium embedded in the heart of the Ascendancy. This meant that it would be necessary for Dai Shen to meet with Cixi, the high prefect—unfortunate because she had once known Titus Quinn at the Ascendancy, so his disguise must be more than adequate. It must be perfect.

The rest of his false identity was one he had already been using, that he was Dai Shen, a child of Yulin by a minor concubine. Dai Shen’s sloth had earned him a banishment to the Long War, where he had earned a measure of respect, and he had now come back to his father, seeking to be useful. As a token of his father’s new regard, Dai Shen was given the mission to the Inyx.

In this way, Master Yulin would earn the goodwill of the humans who would be coming. Quinn knew that this was not exactly true, and that Minerva would in fact think this a betrayal of their own mission. But they must pay attention to an influential prince such as Yulin who had established friendly relations. So it wasn’t all lies, and might indeed be the best thing Yulin could have done for his future prospects.

Knowing that he would return to the Ascendancy, to that place that had been his prison, filled Quinn with both elation and disquiet. He wasn’t done with the place, of course. It held all his memories of the time before. It held his enemies. The prospect of deceiving them and snatching from them a victory was not unwelcome, even with all its dangers.

Through their daily fight drills, Quinn learned that he wasn’t in as good a shape as he had presumed. Being faster and more skilled, Anzi usually won their matches, and in hopes of regaining his pride, he worked hard to advance.

Some days his teacher was Ci Dehai, Yulin’s general of battle. Ci Dehai and Yulin had been friends since their early days on the fields of Ahnenhoon, and Yulin trusted him completely, even with this act of treason, the training of a man of the Rose. The general, in advanced middle age, was hardened in muscle and outlook, with a face to intimidate the enemy. One side of his face was horribly disfigured, with an eye gone, the gap hidden amid folds of sagging skin. The other side looked mean.

Being taught by a top officer of battle was a great privilege, Anzi had told him, but Quinn thought that Yulin had little choice. The master’s fear of betrayal extended even to his own family, leaving his inner circle composed of three good wives, his niece, and Ci Dehai—none of whom could logically succeed him, and all of whom would suffer any defeat at his side.

Ci Dehai took him through the hall of weapons, asking which ones Quinn could use. Quinn admired one short knife with a carved handle. Pleased to have that blade remarked upon, Ci Dehai held it out, letting Quinn balance it in his hand. The weapon was a favorite of Ci Dehai’s, one he’d named Going Over. Quinn had never fought with knives, or any weapon; in his youthful sparring days, his big fists had been enough. A knife, though; that would take skill.

Mornings were for physical training, and afternoons for language, both of which Anzi pursued with a relentless zeal, leaving him little time to savor his victory over Yulin, or to worry about next steps. They would travel by train. This would bring close inspection by a multitude of sentients, and Dai Shen must arouse no notice. He was glad to think that Anzi would accompany him. It was a promise of sorts. Yulin wouldn’t betray him with Anzi along, and, in addition, Quinn was coming to like her.

By ebb-time, his fighting lessons usually brought him a pleasant weariness, and he slept deeply during the night phase of the Entire. Because of this, he’d been startled one night when a touch on his arm awakened him. At first he thought the girl at his side was Anzi, but Anzi slept in Yulin’s house, and this person was younger, with long hair pulled back and hanging to her waist. Making a sign for silence, the girl led him through the garden, avoiding the cages of animals lest their screams alert the animal stewards. He followed her, ready for trouble, remembering the ambush in the village, when he’d first arrived. Although Anzi said that the woman who’d brought him to the village, Wen An, had done him a favor, he couldn’t thank her for the misery of the jar.

The girl led him to a wall-less hut like a gazebo near a short door that was called the Door of Eight Serenities, being Yulin’s entrance to his garden. There, Suzong was waiting for him. Nearby, the girl kept watch just out of hearing.

Suzong had shed her usual red garments for a suit of gray, helping her blend into the hushed tones of the garden. Her black upswept hair was anchored in place by a sour paste that hit his Jacobson’s organ strongly at such close range.

“I am not here,” Yulin’s wife began. “It is your imagination.”

He bowed, receiving her nod in return. “I have a vivid imagination, Mistress.”

“Yes. You do.” Suzong gestured for him to sit, and she did so herself, kneeling on the bare wood floor. “One that I favor.”

Insect noises from the garden lay a net over their conversation, but still, they whispered. He wondered why she had come here, and concluded it was to avoid Yulin’s notice. So if he spoke to her, he was colluding. But it would be worthwhile to see what she offered. For someone with as little as he had, every offer was interesting.

“First,” she began, “without
imagination
, tell me why your masters wish routes through our land. Is this true, or a ruse?” Her face in the semidark of the gazebo looked decades younger, but her voice was cracked with age.

“True, Mistress Suzong. My people have a strong drive, to voyage, to explore. . . .”

“To conquer?” Said sweetly.

“Yes, sometimes. Not always. Not where trade is a better option.”

“You believe there are routes through our land because, when you went home once before, you were in a far reach of your universe?”

“Yes, and because when I came home, I was not much older than when I left. But I was sure I’d been here . . . a thousand days,” he said, using the vernacular term for
a moderately long time
. “If time passes differently here, we reasoned, then space might be twisted as well. We hoped. My masters hoped. There was little to lose, sending me to find out.”

Suzong smirked. “Only your life. Are you held in low regard, to be thus expendable?”

“No. It was a privilege to come. Others fought me for the chance.”

She let that lie. “And will soon follow, as you say.” She sighed. “The Entire is riven with holes. We watch you through the holes.”

He knew this. The
reaches
were places where the barrier between universes was thin, and the Rose could be seen.

She continued, “You and I live side by side, yes? You had only to stretch a little in our direction to find us. We did marvel that you remained in darkness.”

Despite the twilight of the ebb he could see her smile, not a pretty sight when she meant, as now, to put him in his place. “To us,” Suzong said, “you are the dark. Dark space, dark night, dark thoughts. You are a gloomy people, riddled with death. We pity you.”

“No need, excuse me, mistress.”

She shrugged. “To the mole without eyes there is no dark.” She held up a finger. “There will be no agreeing between us on this. But there will be time enough to discuss philosophy when your people come in numbers, yes?”

“I look forward to that, Red Mistress,” he said, daring one of her more intimate titles.

The name seemed to please her, because she smiled, more easily this time. “So you do claim that your wish is to pass through?”

“But first, my wish is to take my daughter home.”

Suzong sucked on her teeth as she regarded him. “Yes the small daughter who is not small anymore, of course.”

“Yes.” He must remember that.

“But once you have summoned the daughter to the Rose, you still wish to . . . come and go. To pass through.” She nodded. “Perhaps I will prove to you that we are more than a temporary ally.”

She had his attention. All of it.

She murmured, “You will bring home, if you can, a prize past all reckoning.” She cut a glance at him, and her mouth curled in a voiceless laugh. “Not the daughter. The passages. Such power you will have among your former masters. You could demand your own sway, and many consorts. They will bow low indeed, if you find the passages you require.” Talking almost to herself, she examined the palm of her hand. “Oh to be young once more and hold such power.” Her fingers closed.

Watching Suzong with a startled intensity, Quinn thought about that
prize past all reckoning
. The prize Stefan Polich desired more than anything. In Quinn’s long-standing contempt of Stefan, he had not much cared about routes to the stars, except as it would affect Sydney’s escape. But now he sank into a new realization.
You could demand your own sway. . . . They will bow low.
. . .
He couldn’t imagine Stefan or Helice bowing in any way—but wouldn’t they do just that? Because of this power, wouldn’t they give him anything he wanted? They couldn’t threaten his family ever again. Rob would be safe— if he wanted the desk job—and Mateo . . . no one would dare touch the nephew of the man who had knowledge of the
passages
, as Suzong called them. Minerva couldn’t ride him any longer. He would be free.

He looked up at the old consort, riveted by her insight.

At that moment she turned her head to listen for something. In the back of her lacquered hair, sticks protruded in a prickly array, some with tassels. Turning back to him, she continued in more haste: “You will learn soon enough if you don’t already know, that our world is shaped by the Three Vows. The First Vow is to withhold the knowledge of the Entire from the non-Entire.”

He thought that this cat was well out of the bag, but refrained from saying so. Suzong watched him carefully, and her voice lowered so that he had to bend forward to hear her. “So now I give you this power over me, that I break the vow and say that, as to routes between, there is one who may know a direction.”

The girl standing watch had come to the foot of the steps. Suzong waved her away. He thought for a moment that Suzong would have to postpone her secret, the one she’d come here to tell, and he almost placed a hand on her arm to restrain her.

“Bei,” she whispered, bending close to him. “Su Bei. You remember your translator from long ago?” When Quinn nodded, she went on, “Find a purpose to go to him. You have proven by your presence here that it is possible to forge passage. Even a Chalin wife knows this much. But
when
can one pass? Ah, that is the question. Twice you have been lucky. Twice you came into the Entire, and survived. But the real problem is how to go in the other direction, of course. Because the Rose is inhospitable. Dark, and full of death. We must ask, When does a reach connect with a place you would wish to go? You might wait until your hair turned black with age and never find safe passage. But Su Bei told me once that there may be someone with profound knowledge of the timing of these routes.”

Quinn whispered, “Bei knows?”

“He knows where the knowledge lies. With one who resides in the bright city.”

“The Ascendancy.”

She nodded. “It is said. I’m glad I know no more.” She held up a finger. “But, you will soon be in that high city. You can now go there with a double purpose, yes?”

He saw a movement in the garden, and Suzong’s servant appeared again at the bottom of the stairs, looking concerned. Urgently, he whispered, “How can I find Bei to question him further?”

“Anzi can find him.” With surprising agility, Suzong stood up, and smoothed her jacket.

Quinn rose too. His good fortune made him suspicious for a moment. “Why, mistress? Why are you telling me this?”

“When humans come”—she looked up at the bright as though envisioning the ships that would bear the invaders—“they will grind the bones of the Tarig under their boots.” She smiled. “Oh yes, I have seen your wars. Very good ones.”

She turned away and walked to the stairway. Before she descended, she said, “I have never come here.”

“I never saw you,” he said, bowing. When he straightened again, she was gone.

He left the gazebo, feeling dazed. The passages. It wasn’t just about Stefan’s routes, saving his star fleet from disaster. It was about feeding the dragon, satisfying Stefan at last, with the prize past all reckoning. It would put Quinn on an equal footing with Minerva.
Earning him a sway of his own,
Suzong had said.