Winterfinding (22 page)

“
Those in the city call it
the promenade.”

Pallas nodded, “Yes, the Winterfinding as
well as the Midsummer festivals use it. The common folk build their
pageant wagons and carry their litters on their shoulders as their
processions circle around the Cathedral. It’s very colorful and
pleasant, even when the weather doesn’t cooperate.” Pallas looked
up into the sky then down around them at the accumulated snow.

“
But that’s not all.”
Wynne prompted.

“
No, it’s not. It’s not
even the reason. That’s just what people have decided to do. No,
that promenade is really a channel. A great false floor of stone
covers what is probably the deepest channel in the world. And at
the bottom of that channel is river of sewage. It encircles the
Cathedral, a thick river of shit.”

Wynne was taken back, “If that were true,
wouldn’t the smell be pungent enough for any and all to
notice.”

Pallas turned slightly and wagged a finger,
“You would think so, wouldn’t you. But, no. The covering keeps the
fetid air trapped and, it’s said, the guttermen add a powder to the
drains that neutralizes the stench. At least, to some degree.”

“
Still seems like a rather
poor design.” Wynne replied.

“
Not the best sewer
system, no. But is it a great defensive asset? Yes, it is.” Wynne
raised an eyebrow, and Pallas continued. “That surface can be drawn
back leaving a gaping chasm. It’s existed since before the
Cathedral was built.”

“
The channel?”

“
Yes, but when the
Cathedral was built, incorporating the channel—digging it deeper,
making it wider, covering it with retractable stone—was the true
marvel.”

“
I never knew that could
be done.”

“
The last time it happened
was nearly eighty years ago, when the patriarch was
elected.”

“
Why then?”

“
Because whenever there is
a conclave, it is retracted so that no one from the outside can
interfere with the decisions being made inside.”

“
People have just
forgotten about it. Because the patriarch has been seated so
long.”

“
Exactly,” Pallas said
smiling, “but soon I believe we will see it again.”

“
I know the patriarch is
old but is he unwell?”

“
I am not offering you
idle gossip, Wynne Landis.” Pallas was serious. “I am part of a
faction that will soon see to it that a conclave is
struck.”

“
Although I am merely an
ambassador from a city under siege, I am still one of the faithful.
And if I hear that the patriarch’s life is being threatened, I must
let the paladins know.”

“
You are no more a part of
the faith that I am, Wynne Landis.” Pallas smirked and turned away.
He continued walking along the parapet. Wynne didn’t hesitate this
time and kept pace with him.

“
You know who I am,
obviously. But you’ve given me scant information about yourself.”
Wynne said.

“
Your point?”

“
That is not how trust is
built.”

Pallas laughed. It wasn’t mocking or
spiteful, but it still rankled a bit. “There are so many ways to
build trust. Usually when people tell me know to build trust, they
don’t approve of the method I’m using. I guess it makes sense. Some
would argue that we have a natural inclination to impose our will
on others.”

“
But not you.” Wynne was
beginning to get a sense of the kind of man Pallas was. He sounded
too cunning to be a proper clergyman.

“
My order…we are, among
other things, tasked with nurturing the mind.”

“
A theosopher? That is a
narrow calling.”

Pallas brightened somewhat, “Ah, so you know
of us.”

“
I’ve studied.”

“
That you have. You were a
merchant from your very earliest days. You practically rebuilt your
family’s trade. You prospered to such a degree that the city of
Rikonen itself looked to you to help right its path during the dark
days when war loomed with the Merchant Fleet.”

“
It wasn’t just me and
you’re being rather melodramatic.” Wynne didn’t blush or betray any
surprise in Pallas knowing so much about his personal history. What
he was retelling was information that could easily be found out by
simply talking at length with a native of Rikonen.

“
Well, melodrama is just
history with flair. In your case, however, it’s more than that. You
made your city into what it is. At least, what it was before The
Blockade. And then you disappeared. For over a thousand days, you
were absent.”

Wynne clenched his jaw but otherwise
betrayed nothing of his feelings to Pallas. The priest stopped
again and turned to face Wynne. “Finally, you appear. You appear
here in Sulecin to plead your city’s case to the patriarch. To have
the Cathedral refuse to sanction the Silvincian action. To force a
decision to be made.”

“
In a manner of speaking,
yes.”

Pallas grinned and pointed behind the wall
to the great Cathedral itself still lit from the inside. The golden
light pouring through the huge glass windows that rose hundreds of
feet before a thin metal frame cut across them and a new window
began. The Cathedral looked fragile, elegant, and as though it were
glowing from the inside out.

“
That monolith will never
bend to any one man or woman’s will.” Pallas was smiling but his
tone was bitter. “You have come here; your very presence is a
reminder to all inside of just how much the faith has failed. How
its idealism has been twisted by its pragmatism.”

“
And that is why I have
been able to enter but no one will speak with me? No one will hear
me? Least of all, the patriarch.” Wynne turned away from the
Cathedral.

“
I am here speaking with
you. I am here to hear you.” Pallas said.

“
Who are you?” wearily
Wynne asked.

“
I am the one telling you
that your daughter and your friends are sitting dumbfounded between
the army of the Seven Spires and the Cathedral of the Amaranthine
Light.” Wynne gave Pallas a hard look. “I am the one telling you
that this patriarch will never sanction the Spires nor will he ever
speak against it. I am the one saying that over the next couple of
days, with an army at its doorstep, The Cathedral is going to close
itself off from the world.”

The streets of Sulecin were wide,
accommodating four wagons side by side comfortably, and the
cobblestone well worn. Each street emanated from around the center,
The Cathedral, like the rings of a tree. Narrow alleys cut through
the buildings at random. One only saw a seemingly never-ending
curve walking down the streets and peering into the alleys just
revealed shadow. The city wasn’t a labyrinth of twists and turns,
but rather a surreal coil of sameness. At least, that’s how it felt
to Fery.

She gazed out the smoky window down to the
street below. The house was silent. House, she thought, this isn’t
really a house. She had learned most Sulecin homes weren’t houses
of any kind but rather compartments. The rich owned a whole floor
of a building from one street to the other. It was their narrow
sliver of the world. This was called a ‘flat.’ For the middle
classes, a flat was split in half and referred to as a ‘portion.’
The vast majority of the city lived packed into what were called
‘thirds.’ These were portions split into three sections. Buildings
were surprisingly uniform in height, typically not more than five
stories. No one own an entire building or, at least, that’s how it
sounded when Kira had explained it to her.

It was a bizarre hierarchy. The four of them
were squeezed into a top most third. Even though she knew how these
people divided their homes, Fery was still having a difficult time
remembering all their terminology. Bottom most, middle most, top
most, which were all just ways of saying middle; instead of left or
right, it was sinistral or dextral and they used that instead of
north and south as well. It was ridiculously confusing. They were
in a sinistral top most third, which meant the highest middle room
facing south.

“
But if the streets circle
the Cathedral, that means that half way around the city the terms
change.” She had said when they arrived.

Goshen had just looked at her
uncomprehending, “What? Nothing changes.”

“
Yes it does. A house
facing north but on the southern side would have to become dextral,
right?”

“
It’s always been
dextral.” Goshen replied.

“
Right, but building
itself is sinistral.”

Goshen winced, “That’s not how it
works.”

“
But that’s how it should
work. Just to be logical.”

“
You’ll get the hang of
it. It’s easier to do than explain.” Kira had reassured
her.

Fery was shaking her head about to protest
as Goshen and Kira led them inside. Declan stood behind her and in
a rather conspiratorial tone said, “Every place has its own logic.
Just let it wash over you. It’ll be simpler.”

And that had been it. Let it wash over you,
she mouthed to herself that first night and every night since. She
didn’t feel comfortable in the city, in this city. In a proper bed
in a room with a door that closed and locked, she had begun to
dream again and she dreamt of Rikonen. She saw the smooth, bright
white walls of the buildings as she walked the winding streets that
crawled up and over gentle rises. She saw the pristine city, the
city before The Blockade. Luminous against the fluid but deep
sapphire of the sea. It was always the same. Just an empty,
beautiful city. She didn’t even have a body in the dreams, just
vision traveling. When she woke, her heart would be frantically
beating but otherwise nothing. Her eyes would open immediately,
she’d be awake and still. Alive in yet another strange place.

This third had a half-wall that divided it
into two rooms. Kira and Fery were in one and Declan and Goshen in
the other. At least, that had been the plan. But Declan was
spending most of his time on the rooftop, alone, and Goshen always
sat as a grim sentinel before the entrance. The vigilance of the
two was getting tiresome. On the street below, there were vendors
setting up their stalls and pushcarts and laborers scurrying off to
work. There was a dusting of snow everywhere making things quieter,
it seemed the folk moved slower. The sky was completely clear, an
open blue from which the sunlight poured. It was the brightest
morning that Fery had seen in a long time.

“
The snow will be gone
before mid-morning.” Kira said. Fery looked down to the bed next to
hers and saw Kira looking up at her. She was on her side with her
pillow twisted under her body. Fery could only see her big eyes
staring up at her as Kira buried the rest of her face in the pillow
and blanket.

“
Up are we?” Fery replied
turning away from the window and sitting cross-legged on her own
bed facing Kira.

“
For all the good it’ll
do.” Kira mumbled, stretching, and receding back under her
blankets.

“
None of that now,” Fery
leaned forward and poked her in the ribs, “I’m awake, you’re awake.
We have things to do.”

Kira let out a groan as she threw the covers
back and rose. She walked over to a tall table that held a pan of
water below a mirror. Kira rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and
splashed the icy water on her face. She rubbed it in holding her
hands to her eyes for a moment, and then looked into the mirror at
Fery.

“
Today then?” She asked
Fery.

“
That’s what they said
before they left.” When the Spires kyrio and his guards had left
them all those days ago (abandoned them, Goshen had asserted), they
had given her a map to this safe house. Tobin had also told her
where to go to leave a message for Wynne. She had and now finally
got a reply back. They were off to meet with him today.

“
Do you think that he’s
been able to do it?”

Fery shook her head and stood, “No. No, I
don’t think so. How could he?”

Kira paused looking down into the pan, “You
know there was a time when he was a good man.”

Fery knew Kira was talking about her
stepfather, vicegerent Sinclar Somerled, the man they now knew had
sent his daughter on a false mission. A man who had sent his
daughter to die. Fery had put on her grey jerkin and was buttoning
it. “Was there? I mean, do you really know? Do you really think
so?”

Kira turned away from the table and back to
her bed where she kicked out her pack from underneath. She squatted
starting to pull out her own clothes. “I have to believe so.”

“
He wanted to kill you.
Probably still does.” Finished with her last button she pointed
through the wall. “That’s why our heroes there are so on
edge.”

“
He can hear you.” Kira
said of Goshen in the other room.

Fery made a face and bushed it off, “He’s
asleep; I’m sure of it. No one can stay awake for two days.”

“
Not without going
mad.”

“
So we know he’s crazy
then.” Fery smiled.

Kira gave a weak grin in return, “He cares
for us.”

“
I care for us. We all
care for us.” Fery watched Kira put on a thick fabric skirt. “Am I
going to have to wear one of those?”

“
Please, it’s not like
you’ve never worn a dress before.”