The Descent into the Maelstrom (The Phantom of the Earth Book 4) (18 page)

He impaled the Janzer near Verena, slamming his sword through its visor. Nero lifted her in his arms.

She whipped away from him, shouting and swiping at him. Her hair bun came undone.

“Love,” Nero said, “it’s me, it’s your Nero, it’s over.”

She seemed to recognize his voice, and her struggling ceased. He lifted his visor, revealing his face. She cried and laughed and hugged him.

Let’s move, striker,
Aera sent.

He picked up Verena in his arms and rushed with Aera to a transport painted with a
Morelia spilota spilota
, where Pirro awaited their arrival.

During the journey through the supply tunnels, Nero explained to Verena all that had happened since Antosha’s attack. She looked pale after he finished, then fell asleep in his arms.

Aera handed Nero a z-disk, the one she’d procured in Palaestra City.
You might not want to see what’s in here.

Halcyon Village

Dunamis, Underground West

2,500 meters deep

I have the layout, but I don’t see how we can break into the citadel.

That’s because you’ve been listening to Lady Isabelle—

Who can hear these conversations.

Now you sound like Pasha—

And if we get caught—

If we win, we won’t. Send me the map.

Nathan Storm sent the details, and the Marshlands Citadel formed in Oriana’s extended consciousness.

I have to go, or I’ll never make it to the city in time.

Wait, Oriana—

She cut off her connection to the ZPF, and to Marstone and Nathan.

The Summersets had thought themselves so clever in how they blocked her and Pasha’s communications with the outside from House Summerset. “You’ll thank us later,” Lady Parthenia had said.

Oriana thought about sneaking out and hopping on an intraterritory transport to Crusis Village and House Ectasian to see Nathan, but she decided against it. Even if she passed the test of telepathy required to travel, Marstone would alert the DOC when she entered her nine-digit ID number and card. Even so, she
had
to set the plans with Nathan prior to the Trek; the day of would be too busy and too late.

The Summersets’ z-wall seemed unbreakable, at least for Oriana, and so she relied on Pasha. He spoke to Desaray nightly and daily; about what, she didn’t know, didn’t care. She agreed to show him how she solved complex origami and palindromic puzzles if he’d show her how to break through the z-wall. When she first asked Nathan to download information about Broden Barão, he resisted. “Maybe you should wait until after the Harpoons,” he’d sent, and when she refused to wait, “Maybe what happened in the past is better left forgotten.” Oriana couldn’t stand his indifference. She didn’t believe him when he later told her during Harpoon classes that the Ectasians blocked his access to files on Broden Barão. According to Nathan, after he’d tried to access the files, they warned him to stay away from the house’s archive.

Oriana shifted her focus to the Marshlands Citadel. The archive there would have access to all the files she’d need to find out the truth about her lineage. Again, Nathan balked. “The Ectasians would never forgive me if I misled them,” he’d insisted. “The way you misled me,” Oriana put in. Nathan denied he placed the wager on her because of her heritage; he’d done it because he had faith in her. And he loved her. “If you love me,” she told him, “you’ll download the citadel map.” She’d learned during the course of her development that guilt could, at times, be the surest path to a man’s heart.

Too bad it’s not as easy with women,
Oriana thought. She would’ve preferred to execute her plan with Gaia. Her former best friend hadn’t spoken to her since their forest fight. Lady Isabelle hadn’t assigned them to the same group for sessions during classes, and Gaia avoided Oriana during candidate free times. It was enough to drive her mad.

Oriana shook her head, and the beads in her hair tinkled. All she wanted was the chance to apologize, to let Gaia know she’d still like to be friends. Then she thought about Duccio, who found new ways to annoy her by the day. He knew some details of their argument, but not all. Not the kiss. Oriana touched her lips. She still thought about that kiss, Gaia’s soft lips, the fruity smell of her breath, her moans. She sighed. She cleared her mind. She couldn’t allow distractions to hinder her performance during the Trimester Trek.

She studied the citadel’s innards, the Citadel Guard outposts, the Gallery of the Minister, the waterfalls around the white marble stone skywalks and archways, the green and yellow vines that wrapped around the coolant piping, and the spiral staircase down to the Marshlands archive.

Oriana turned to the holographic artwork with the First Aera. “Today’s our day, Miss Aera, today we’ll find out what happened to Mother and Father.”

She slipped out of her nightgown and into her slate-gray bodysuit, indicating her candidate status, and attached her z-tag, which would allow her to travel through the commonwealth for the Trek. She recreated Urelayura Hall from her Granville panel, its many rows of trees and vines and the evergreen canopy forming around her, brushed her hair, and dabbed her perfume, one drop on each wrist, two drops on her neck.

As she inhaled the gardenia and carnation, she imagined her team rushing through the Granville rays, obtaining all the flags, and ascending the moss-lined marble stairs in the white towers, winners of the Trimester Trek—who could slip past the Citadel Guardsmen into the Marshlands archive.

Alpinia City

Marshlands, Underground East

Oriana arrived at Urelayura Hall with Nathan, Pasha, Desaray, and Duccio. Lady Isabelle had let them choose their teams for the Trimester Trek, five per team. Oriana chose Nathan, who chose Duccio, and Desaray chose Pasha, who chose Oriana, completing their circle, but leaving out Gaia, who ended up with a group of candidates Oriana didn’t know.

Oriana led her team down the hall’s moss-lined steps. Nathan smiled and brushed against her. His touch, his musky smell, his voice, everything about him warmed her even more than in the virtual worlds. He fell back to Duccio. The best friends looked like strikers, muscular and very tall. They shared an inside joke and laughed. Pasha walked with Desaray. His hair had grown longer, falling over and around his ears over his stubble beard, which made his dimples less noticeable, while Desaray’s hair puffed higher and wider than Oriana remembered. Her breasts were bigger, too, or her slate-gray bodysuit was three sizes too small. Oriana couldn’t decide. She put her hands beneath her elbows.

“Hey, princess,” Duccio said, “what’s the holdup? You afraid?”

“Are you?” Oriana said. To Nathan, she said softly, “Of all the talent out there, why him?”

“You can ask me yourself,” Duccio said.

Oriana dropped her arms. She moved to Duccio and swung her fist at his face, stopping just shy of his nose. He flinched.

Pasha and Desaray laughed.

“Maybe I should find another team,” Duccio said, “like my sister.”

“No,” Nathan said, “you’re both my friends and I want you both on my team, so this rivalry ends, today.”

Oriana scowled. The more Nathan and Duccio’s friendship flourished, the surer she became that one of them would have to go, and it wasn’t going to be her.

“Now shake on it,” Nathan said. “We’re a team today, and candidates are sworn by their words.”

Oriana suspected Duccio feared her, in truth, but would never say so. Nathan wouldn’t agree with her. She turned from him to Duccio and sighed. “I can handle it if you can.”

Duccio held her hand and kissed it and leaned next to her. “Sweet muffin, you dare threaten me again and not even your boyfriend will be able to protect you.” He pulled away and smiled. “So be it,” he said, loud enough for the team’s benefit, “an accord for today.”

They shook hands. The chancellor’s Third Precept scrolled through Oriana’s head.
Jealousy is treachery. Treachery is culpable. Culpability is never questioned.
Was this man, twice her size and developed by two former talented RDD scientists, truly jealous of her? If he
was
consumed by the illegal emotion, surely Marstone would pick it up. The thought made Oriana grin. “An accord for today,” she agreed.

Her team settled on the mossy limestone hill among the other candidates. At the base, smoke glided over a dais, and through it broke Lady Isabelle. Her crystal stilettos kissed the vine-covered runway as she strutted to the podium.

“Welcome, candidates, to Marshlands Territory and your Trimester Trek.” The candidates applauded. “You’ve been interacting through the Harpoon VR all this time with no awareness of the world around you, how vast, how far, how great is our country inside the Earth’s crust. Now you will experience one of the commonwealth’s greatest cities, but do not mistake this Trek for a tour.

“I will send the teams out, and you’ll receive your z-disk instructions. You will gather flags throughout Alpinia City. Time begins when you leave the hall. Alliances are forbidden for this exercise, as is Marstone contact with your developers. Should we learn of either of these occurrences, your first-half scores will be reduced as I see fit. You have six hours to collect one hundred flags. Respect the land. Minister Noria Furongielle was kind enough to invite us here, and you’re still bound by Beimeni’s laws.”

Oriana’s heart dropped. They’d never have enough time to gather one hundred flags and break into the archive. Damn Lady Isabelle. Damn her!

I’m a champion, and a champion doesn’t let anything get in her way,
Oriana thought.

“May the gods be with you,” Lady Isabelle said. Keeper bots streamed in from behind the tree trunks at the top of the hall. They held trays with golden z-disks piled high. “Serve Beimeni!” Isabelle threw her fist in the air.

“
Live forever!
” the candidates said.

The first group rushed to the top, gathered the z-disks, and stormed out of the hall. Countless more candidates rushed up the steps. Oriana’s team made their way through the throng.

Don’t do anything foolish today, child,
Isabelle sent.
Your team may leave the hall.

Oriana hesitated, even as the other teams raced forward. Did Lady Isabelle know about her idea with the archive? Why would she care if Oriana searched it? A search in an archive wasn’t treasonous, at least not the way the precepts defined treason.

“We’re up,” Oriana said.

“What?” Nathan said.

Most of the teams in their grouping had already left the hall.

“Are you serious?” Duccio said.

“Oriana!” Desaray said.

Pasha didn’t say anything.

“Forgive me,” Oriana said, “let’s go.”

They rushed to the top, and Nathan retrieved the z-disk. They all downloaded the instructions. Outside the hall, dust clouded up from where the candidates stirred the earth.

Five hours later, night fell and the stars rose over the city. They’d gathered 97 flags as the clues led them through the forests and hills. The previous clue attached to the last flag had suggested they find the Seaborne Bridge to enter the city proper and solve one last riddle.

Oriana led the team down a trail surrounded by black trees with gray leaves. She spotted a pair of white flamingos on white grass and white lilies over a black pond. Oriana looked up. All her teammates appeared in white and black and shades of gray.

“What’s this?” Duccio said.

“The color’s been drained,” Oriana said.

“Is this part of the riddle?” Pasha said.

“Look!” Desaray said. “Over there!”

They rushed to the other side of the pond, where a man as white as the leaves and birds stood in front of a desk covered with black-and-white cards, each stenciled with a different labyrinth, plant, or animal.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the man said.

His voice was synthetic, as if he spoke with a mouth full of water. A white parrot on his shoulder cooed, “Expecting, expecting.” It shook its head, and feathers fluttered in the unscented wind. The man pulled a gray flag with the Harpoon insignia from his pocket.

“Who are you?” Nathan said. “What’s going on here?”

“My name is Drumme Sanbean, but Marshlanders call me the Magician.
Look
, and you will see. You’ve entered my achromatic park. With this,” he held up a glowing silver orb, “I send signals to your optic nerves that remove colors from your sight.”

“What’s the riddle here?” Oriana said.

“Oh, but of course, that’s why you’re here. How dumb of me to forget. Many of your friends stopped by, too, some happier than others—”

“The riddle, sir—”

“Call me Magician, if you will. I have a trick for you, subtler than what I’ve done to your eyes. Solve it and you may access the bridge.” He stacked the cards.

“How many cards do you hold?” Oriana said.

“Twenty-seven, if you must know.” The Magician picked up the deck and fanned it out. “Select one card and don’t show it to me.”

Oriana selected one and revealed it to the team.

A black-and-white phoenix.