The Water Road (36 page)

Wylph nodded. “And what might that
be?” he asked, partly to Forlahn, partly to Strefer.

“I’d prefer not to discuss it
here,” Strefer said, ignoring Forlahn’s order to stay quiet. “I’ve had quite
enough of wooded paths and clearings in the past few weeks. The sooner we go up
there,” she said, pointing to the trees, “the better.”

Forlahn jumped in to assist. “Trust
me, Wylph. What she has to discuss with the sages is one of the most important
discoveries of the past hundred years. There are those in these woods who would
do her harm just for having it. Besides, Rurek, the Sentinel there, is in need
of better medical care than I can provide. May we ascend, without delay?”

Wylph thought about it for a
moment. “Very well. We must wait a while, to see if anyone else has business in
the city and to let Bodd regain his strength.”

“Then we’ll sit down and wait,”
Strefer said. “We’ve developed quite a talent for it.”

~~~~~

While they waited to begin the
ascent into the city, Strefer sat and wondered what it would be like. Her
imagination proved no match for reality. She had seen amazing things in her
life, from the Grand Council chamber to the boats crawling out of the clinging
fog on Great Basic Lake, but she had never seen anything like this.

It took about twenty-five minutes
from the time they were all secured in the lift until they arrived at the
city’s main level. Her first amazement was Bodd, who hauled the basket and its
seven occupants up through the trees using a combination of sheer brute force
and complex unseen machinery. He proceeded with a steady rhythm, rising,
pausing, then rising again over and over as they ascended. Once she was used to
it, Strefer could block out the mechanics and take in the view around her.

The forest floor disappeared
underneath them quickly. Within moments, they were up in the trees. When
Strefer dared to look out over the side of the lift, clutching the side
emphatically, Forlahn said, “You can see why it’s necessary to have someone who
knows exactly how to get to Oberton.” She nodded, aware that she most likely
looked like a wonderstruck child. “If someone walked through the clearing now
and didn’t know what they are looking for, they would never know it was
anything special,” he said.

Once the ground was out of sight,
Strefer took in the unfolding levels of greenery around them. She could not
tell whether the path of the lift was kept clear by design or if the location
had been selected because it was relatively clear. It passed through countless
branches, but only at their thinnest point where they most easily gave way.
Even then, without the lift’s roof for protection, they would all be beaten
senseless by the time the ride was over.

About halfway up, Strefer began to
see structures outlined in the leaves and limbs, built into and around the
massive tree trunks. Strefer thought they were homes. No more than huts or
shacks, in truth. One room each, by the looks of them, usually affixed in some
manner to a tree trunk. The further they climbed, the larger and more elaborate
the construction became.

First came more elaborate
individual dwellings, some linked by sturdy plank walkways laid out on top of
the thickest branches. Then came a return to smaller homes, but clusters of
them that shared common space along planked walkways. There were people
standing in some of those areas, deep in discussion. Some turned when they
heard the lift passing by, waving at Wylph, who returned the gesture. Others
ignored them, no doubt having learned to tune out the regular noise.

Forlahn leaned in to explain what
Strefer was seeing. “These are where your best hope lives. Each of these small
groups of homes belong to a particular group of sages. They share a common
expertise and live together to further their work.”

“Shouldn’t we be stopping
somewhere, then?” Strefer asked.

Forlahn chuckled. “Oh, no. They
won’t talk to an outsider without being ordered to do so.”

“Ordered to?” Strefer said, a
little shocked. “But they look so friendly.”

“They are. It’s just that they have
a singular focus. Sort of like your Guilds, as I understand them. Their role in
life is not to make friends or welcome visitors to the city. That role belongs
to others.”

Finally, a much larger platform
emerged overhead, with a square-shaped hole through which the lift was going to
pass. Strefer assumed that would be their destination. The lift rose through
the opening and came to an abrupt halt. Bodd reached over the side and locked
some sort of mechanism in place. Once that was done, two other men standing on
the platform grasped the lift by the side and swung it out over the solid
floor.

Wylph unlatched the door and said,
with some flourish, “Welcome to Oberton.” He gestured for the others to step
out onto the platform.

Had she given the situation much
thought, Strefer would have been scared out of her mind. She was not fond of
heights. Stepping out onto a platform of wood suspended who knew how high in
the air should have made her sick to her stomach. But she was so busy
processing her surroundings that she did not give it a second thought.

The lower levels had been
interesting, in a quaint and completely unexpected kind of way. Where they were
now, however, the equivalent to Oberton’s town square, was truly magnificent.
Wooden panels ran from tree to tree, trunk to trunk, up and down various large
branches. As a result, the space felt open and airy, although it was surrounded
by thick green foliage. Strefer bent down and examined the wood panels that
made up the floor underneath her. It was not smooth or slick, yet had a deep
brown hue that reminded her of the most polished wooden furniture. She did not
have time to analyze it too closely.

“Take this one to the infirmary,”
Wylph said behind her. “He ran afoul of Spider.”

She turned to see a pair of men,
minimally but obviously armed, act on the order. They took Rurek, one under
each arm, and walked him away. Their swiftness made her nervous.

Forlahn must have sensed that.
“Malin, go with the Sentinel,” he said. “Take note of any instructions for his
further care.”

The boy did as he was told and
followed Rurek as he was led away. No one else moved to stop him.

Wylph turned to Strefer. “If you’ll
follow me, it’s time for you to go before the council.”

“Already?” Strefer asked. “Can’t we
take a break first? Find some accommodations for the night?”

“We must meet the council first,”
Wylph said. “If they decide that you have no rightful business with the sages
of Oberton, you will be taken back to the ground and sent on your way. If they
are interested in what you have to say to them, you will be welcome to stay in
Oberton as long as you must.” He extended his hand, directing her and Forlahn
towards the interior of the platform. “So, if you will please…”

She looked at Forlahn for some hint
of whether this was normal. He said nothing, but the look on his face showed
confidence, not concern. She took a deep breath and did as Wylph instructed.

They walked around what appeared to
be the center of the city, a massive tree trunk that easily supported the
weight of the wide paths on which they moved. Walkways and buildings unfurled
around them as they made their way through the city. She looked back at one
point, searching for the lift station in an attempt to find her bearings. It
was a hopeless gesture, as the deep green and robust browns blended in such a
way that nothing appeared distinct. Whatever happened before the council,
simply running away was not an option. She wondered if Forlahn might know how
to get away, or whether that kind of knowledge could only come from being born
and raised here.

After what seemed like several
minutes, they rounded yet another gently sweeping corner and came to what
looked, to all appearances, like a temple. It took Strefer a moment to realize
that was precisely what it was, or what it had been, before the Great
Awakening.

Wylph strode forward and pulled
open one of the massive, thick, wooden doors. “Wait here,” he said as they entered
a small but lavishly appointed foyer. “I will go notify the council of the need
to assemble.” He disappeared behind a set of deep-orange curtains drawn across
what appeared to be the doorway into the main hall.

“Is this normal?” Strefer asked,
turning to Forlahn. “You’ve been here before, right?”

He chuckled nervously. “No, I’ve
never been here, specifically. When you cash in a bounty, you go to the other
side of the city. As far away from here as you can get, before you fall through
the leaves and branches to your death.” He stopped as she shot him a worried
look. “But, as far as I know, this is perfectly normal. They don’t really want
to have much to do with the outside world if they can help it. Don’t take it
personally.”

Before she had a chance to take
that advice to heart, Wylph slipped back through the curtains. “The council
will see you now.” He held the curtain open and gestured for her to walk
through.

As she did, Strefer heard Wylph
behind her. “I’m sorry, Forlahn, but only she may see the council. I have
stretched protocol too far as it is by bringing you with us. You must wait
here.”

“That’s all right,” Forlahn said.
“Mind if I wait outside?” he asked, more to Strefer than to Wylph.

“That will be fine,” Wylph said,
“but do not stray too far. This should not take very long.”

Strefer turned and caught Forlahn’s
eyes. He smiled at her, as if to say, “Stop worrying, you’ll do fine.” That’s
what she needed to hear, at least, and so she did. She took a deep breath and
walked into the council hall.

~~~~~

Once she was behind the curtain,
Strefer was certain that this had at one time been the city’s main temple. She
stood in a large, open room with only a few distinguishing features. Row upon
row of wooden benches stretched forward from the back of the hall to the front.
The walls curved gracefully into the vaulted ceiling, high enough that had it
been open to the sky Strefer would not have been surprised. Sunlight drifted in
from brilliant multicolored skylights perched high up on the walls, the patterns
ever shifting with the sway of the branches in the breeze.

Two aisles cut through the benches
to the front of the room, what must have been the altar in the past. In place
of the altar, or perhaps just the repurposed altar itself, was a simple, but
elegantly carved, wooden lectern. It faced a raised counter, behind which five
people were sitting. Wylph walked slowly down one of the aisles. Strefer
followed.

No one said a word as they made
their way to the front of the room. When they reached the lectern, the man
sitting in the middle of the group said, “Welcome, young lady, to the city of
Oberton.” His voice was confident yet hushed, as if he had grown up in the
massive room. “Thank you, Wylph,” he said, turning to her escort. “You may
leave us now.”

Without saying anything, Wylph
quickly turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Once he was gone, the old man
introduced himself. “I am Gillem, First Councilor of the city of Oberton. And
you are?”

Strefer assumed that Wylph or
someone else had briefed them about her in advance. Perhaps this was part of
the ritual. “My name is Strefer Quants, of the Guild of Writers. Thank you for
seeing me, First Councilor.”

“You are a Guilder?” asked a woman
who sat on the far right side of the platform. “Do you speak for your Guild?”
Her tone was not as impatient as the question made it seem.

“No, councilor,” Strefer said,
turning to face her. She assumed that is what she should do. “Although I am a Guilder,
I have worked for several years in Tolenor as a correspondent for the Sermont
Daily
Register
. I am here today speaking only for myself. In a sense.”

“In a sense?” echoed another man,
who sat just to Gillem’s left. He appeared to be the youngest of the group,
wrapped in an orange robe that matched the color of the curtains. “What an odd
answer. What does that mean?”

She swiveled towards her new
interlocutor. “What that means, councilor, is that I am here, before you today,
purely by my own volition. I represent no other person, nor group of persons,
nor any Guild. That being said, what I have to share with you goes beyond
simply speaking for myself. I speak for the countless Neldathi who have been
cut down in violent confrontation over the past century.”

“Neldathi?” Gillem asked. “What
could you possibly mean?”

Strefer took a deep breath. “I am
not certain how much this council knows of recent events in Tolenor. Am I
correct to assume that you know of the murder of Alban, the Clerk of the Grand
Council of the Triumvirate?”

“Yes,” the man beside Gillem
answered. “We know of the crime and of its perpetrator. His student or protégé
or whatever she was.”

“Forgive me, councilor,” Strefer
said, hoping she would not be cut off for asking questions, “but it has been a
long time since I have read a newspaper or talked to one of my brethren. Do
they say why Antrey—her name was Antrey—why she killed Alban?”