The Palace Job (45 page)

And in that moment, Bi'ul reached the long crystal rod, and passed
through it.

"And
I've
always wanted to see," Tern said as Bi'ul missed the rod and fell, yelling in outrage, "what happens to big bad horrors from beyond when they hit that floor."

Icy was running even before Bi'ul fell, and he leaped as the explosion blossomed beneath him, and then he was tucked tightly into a somersault, flipping in the air as energy roared. He hit the ground in a roll near the console and came to his feet smoothly beside Tern.

"Are you okay?" Tern asked, staring at the orange-and-red raging hail of fire that occupied most of the room.

Icy opened his mouth, then stopped.

"Yes," said Ambassador Bi'ul as he walked out of the flames, smiling. "In fact, I rather enjoyed that."

He was completely unharmed, though energy crackled around his legs.

On the other hand, he
was
still in the middle of the room.

Tern turned back to the console. "Then you're going to
love
this," she said, and input the command to overload the conduit.

Curling lightning roared in every color of the rainbow between the crystal ceiling and the crystal floor, a solid wall of twisting energy that rattled Tern's teeth in their sockets. She clung to the console, Icy beside her, as hot air battered her and purple-white tendrils seared her vision even through tightly shut eyes.

And then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone, and the room plunged into complete darkness, silent as death and empty of everything save the smell of ozone.

Tern blinked and waited for her pupils to dilate. "Is he gone?"

"Yes," said Icy.

"Are we alive?"

"Yes," said Icy.

"I'm really sorry about the spinning blades."

"Don't worry about it," said Icy.

"Do you think the floor is cool enough for us to walk back out?"

"Let us give it a minute," said Icy.

"Okay," said Tern, and sat back to wait.

The walls of the chasm were too slick to climb, so Mirrkir had to drag himself through an access shaft, then crawl through the vents until he reached a vertical tunnel, whereupon he could drag himself back up.

He had not been back to his ancient home for millennia. The hum of the crystals around him was soothing, familiar. He could almost imagine the ancients themselves just around the corner, giving him his sacred duties.

If he carried them out properly, those last instructions delivered so quickly so long ago, they would return. Hunter Mirrkir knew it as he knew nothing else. When he reached the surface, he let his keen senses guide him to open air, then found the crystal-studded console that opened the secret door.

He closed it behind him conscientiously. The secrets of the ancients were not for the men of today. They had not proved their worthiness.

He walked slowly through the hallway. One of his legs dragged with each step. It would be dealt with later.

He could not sense the unicorn's trail—there was too much magic in the air. Someone had overloaded a major conduit, sending out such intense waves that Mirrkir could barely see the ground before him.

He turned a corner and found a new magic, even through the blistering haze. Death magic, and powerful. The priestess, again. He forced himself into a faster walk.

And soon he found them. A wizard, not the death priestess—the play of energies around him was different. He was walking alongside an undead creature, the source of the death magic.

The zombie sensed him first, and turned, calling the wizard's attention. The wizard pulled at stuff of shadows, weaving an illusion of a fierce warrior between himself and Mirrkir. Mirrkir identified it, recognized it as shadow-substance, and walked through it.

At that moment, a young human appeared around the corner and ran to the wizard. He saw Mirrkir and stopped, and when the wizard saw him, he shouted in fear and summoned shadows to weave around the boy as a simple invisibility-cloak. Mirrkir had been instructed not to harm young mortals unless absolutely necessary. He approved of the wizard's willingness to sacrifice himself in order that the boy might escape.

But the shadow unraveled and drew back. The wizard gestured again, and again the shadow coalesced around the boy, then fell apart.

The shadow could not touch the boy. It was the same boy who had ignored the energy from Mirrkir's spear as he had hunted the unicorn before. Mirrkir had thought the boy a familiar empowered by enchantments.

He had been wrong.

Mirrkir turned away from the wizard. "My orders have been superseded," he said aloud, as sparks flashed from the wound in his torso.
"Nef-gajair
protocol engaged."

His ancient masters would be proud.

Falling-Petal was conscious but hurting badly. She kept her eyes closed and listened.

"Isafesira de Lochenville," Justicar Pyvic said, "Enlisted as Loch, Captain of independent scouting unit nine, seventh wing of the Republic National Forces."

"Did some research?" said the woman.

"Convicted
in absentia
of desertion during a time of war, a determination subsequently classified by Voyant Cevirt. At least I know how you recruited Private Kail.

"And I also know..." He broke off, took a long breath. "I also know that as the daughter of a noble, you'd know about the value of Archvoyant Silestin's art collection."

Falling-Petal kept listening.

"He's got an old elven manuscript that will let me repurchase my title," the woman said. "Why don't you come along, Pyvic? Get out, live a little." She smiled—Falling-Petal didn't need to open her eyes to know when a woman was smiling. "I could keep you in luxury for the rest of your life."

"Would we have a mirror on the ceiling in the bedroom?" Pyvic asked, and Falling-Petal drew some conclusions about the relationship between the two.

"Oh, definitely," the woman purred.

"That's a shame," said Pyvic. "If I took the offer of a deserter and a thief, I'd never be able to look at myself again. I suppose I'll have to pass."

She drew in a sharp breath. "Your loss, Justicar."

Pyvic moved. Loch moved. Someone hit the ground.

"Your loss indeed," Loch said again, and Falling-Petal heard her walk away.

After a moment, Falling-Petal groaned, opened her eyes, and set about finding something to write all that down.

"Anything I can do?" Silestin Senior asked.

"Can you fight?" Hessler asked. He moved to stand between Hunter Mirrkir and Dairy. "Dairy, run!"

"I could paw at him a little," Silestin Senior said, "but I suspect he'd just tear me apart."

"I'm not leaving you, Mister Hessler!"

Hunter Mirrkir shuffled forward. Flares of magic sizzled from the cracked crystals in his torso. "I do this not out of hatred, wizard," he said, "but necessity. It is my protocol. It is what I was designed to do."

"Dairy, run!"

"No!" The
stupid
kid ran up and grabbed him by the shoulder. "I'm
not
leaving you. You stay away from Mister Hessler!"

"He can't stay away, kid." They could try running. The thing's leg looked injured. Maybe it would work for awhile. Of course, he'd lose the zombie, but... He tried to hit Dairy again with the invisibility cloak, and again it failed. "He's not a man. He's something the ancients made." Hessler started backing up, pulling the kid along with him. "Dairy, run
now.
I told you that I could protect you if I had to, right? I can protect you now, but... but I need you to get out of here so that I can do it!" They backed around a corner, Hessler trying to pull the kid into a run, and...

"Is there some difficulty with which I can provide assistance?"

Hessler turned. Icy and Tern stood behind him.

"We successfully overloaded the conduit," Icy said, "and we heard a commotion as we made our way to the vault." He nodded politely to Silestin Senior.

"You're working with an Imperial?" Silestin Senior asked in distaste.

Then Hunter Mirrkir shuffled around the corner as well. "Holy crap! He's a golem!" Tern shouted helpfully. "Why in Byn-kodar's hell did I use my
yvkefer
bolt already?"

"The rest of you are of no concern." Mirrkir had not stopped, and as Hessler and Dairy kept backing up, the hunter had increased his shuffling pace. "I seek the boy now."

"Which is why the boy needs to run
away now!"
Hessler shouted.

"Pardon me," Icy said politely, "but what has happened to Mirrkir's torso?"

"I was damaged," Mirrkir grated. "It will not stop me from my goal."

"He's a golem," Hessler said shortly.

"One of the magical creations of the ancients," Tern added helpfully.

"A nonliving object?" Icy asked. "Like a brick or a board?"

"He's significantly more complex," Hessler said acidly, "given his effective state of sentience and his impressive hunting abilities."

Icy sighed. "But he is a
nonliving
object?" he said again.

Hessler frowned. "I suppose that depends upon how exactly one classifies life. It cannot likely reproduce, but it may learn from—"

"Oh," said Tern, and then, "Oh! Yes.
Hell
yes! Completely nonliving. Powered by sophisticated enchantments. No soul."

"Like a brick or a board," Icy said in satisfaction, and stepped past Hessler and Dairy toward Mirrkir.

Mirrkir lashed out to swat him aside. Icy ducked it, leaped into the air, and kicked Mirrkir three times before he landed. Mirrkir lunged in with a punch, and Icy leaped over it, kicked Mirrkir in the head, then somehow managed to scissor his legs around Mirrkir's punching arm in midair with force that produced an audible crack. As Mirrkir grabbed at Icy with his other arm, Icy leaped from Mirrkir's arm into the air, caught the grabbing arm, and did some kind of somersaulting joint-throw that sent Mirrkir crashing to the ground yards away.

"I have often wished to try those techniques on a moving target," Icy said in satisfaction. "Magister, would it be safe to assume that the golem is composed primarily of crystalline substances?"

Hessler thought a moment. "That would be fair, yes."

"Excellent." As Mirrkir rose back to his feet, Icy raised his hands overhead, the fingertips just touching. Hessler thought they looked blurry, as though they were vibrating very quickly.

"My protocols will not be denied," Mirrkir growled, and leaped at Icy.

Icy leaped forward as well, his whole body pivoting in one movement of perfect efficiency.

The golem exploded.

"Although I am chagrined to admit it," Icy noted, "there is a great deal of potential enjoyment in the practice of hitting enemies."

"I've always thought so," Tern noted.

"You're working with an Imperial?" Silestin Senior asked again.

"Times change," Hessler said absently, walking past the zombie and through the debris. He stopped before the golem's head, the largest part of him still in one piece. Crystals sparked at the base of the neck, and the metal faceplate had shattered to reveal a crystal lattice inside.

"He... must... die..." the head said. "He must... or he will fight... and the choice shall be maa-a-a-a...." The crystals flared once more, then faded to darkness.