A World Too Near (17 page)

In his peripheral vision he saw someone approaching. He turned to find the old godwoman, still harrying them, saying, “Tarig lords could finish the job, a rude girl who can’t excuse herself for thrashing an old woman. . . .”

Quinn tossed the godwoman a small coin from the money Benhu had doled out. “Born in a minoral. Our apologies. No rudeness intended.”

Benhu drew the wagon up, and jumped from his perch. “What, arguing with a venerable?” He pushed Quinn and Helice aside, bowing and making amends, as Quinn strove to bring his emotions under control.

Walking to the rear of the closed wagon, Quinn jerked open the double doors and gestured Helice inside. With the godwoman still close by, Helice couldn’t protest, and allowed herself to be shut in.

Stepping back to look at the wagon and the hauling beast, Quinn’s mood wasn’t improved. The skinny beku hung his head as though defeated by the prospect of heading across the veldt. The wagon looked like a doghouse on wheels, painted a green so vivid it hurt the eyes. On the side, it sported an elaborate painting of the grinning mouth of the God of Misery.

Benhu approached, having at last shaken the old woman. Quinn circled around to the wagon’s other side, with Benhu following. There, the design repeated, but the mouth frowned rather than grinned.

Quinn muttered, “God will be watching us across the whole cursed veldt.”

Benhu beamed. “And I only paid fifty minors. Room enough for two to sleep, if curled a bit. Perhaps the girl will enjoy it.” He leered at the wagon, where they could hear Helice swearing already, in Lucent.

“
You
might try lying with her, Benhu.”

At Quinn’s expression, Benhu sobered. “Causing trouble? If she displeases you, Ren Kai . . .”

“What? You’ll send her away, the long way home?”

Benhu pulled on his wispy mustache, a sure sign that he was thinking and coming up empty.

Quinn stood by the wagon, imagining the Miserable God grinning at him. Did the cirque around his ankle threaten the land itself? Had he come here hobbled to some unthinkable destructive machine? Helice must be lying. But she had planted the doubt. He felt the weight of the chain resting uneasily against his skin. What now? He couldn’t go back. But what lay forward? He needed time to think. Perhaps,
in close confinement, he could wring a different story from Helice. He meant to try.

Overhead, an airship drifted by, barely higher than the tents and the beku, its motors faintly humming. Standing in the open hatchway, the rich godman they’d spoken to earlier peered at them, and Benhu bowed as the dirigible passed.

Rising, Benhu said, “Under way.” The camp was on the move. “Our great mission begins,” he said unctuously. He gestured to the door of the wagon. “Ride in comfort, Ren Kai.”

“I’ll take the reins, Benhu,” Quinn said, climbing aboard. The beku turned as Quinn took a seat on the bench, fixing him with a baleful stare.

Benhu gave the beast an agile kick in the flank, provoking it to strain into the harness. Quinn handed Benhu aboard, and they joined a line of coaches and groaning beku. Since they had days ago decided to trade speed for camouflage, their journey would be long: a week to the place where a drove of Adda might be found. As Quinn had formerly conceived it, Helice would know her Chalin manners by then, the wagon serving for a private classroom. But now the world was tipping sideways. Unless she was lying. He held onto that notion. It was so like Helice to lie and twist facts to her purposes. Her purposes. Eventually, in the little green wagon, he’d discover what those were.

Benhu looked around him in satisfaction, drawing out his pipe and lighting it. “All according to plan,” he sighed. “Proceed, Ren Kai.” He waved in the direction of the Nigh.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Gond run no races,
Jouts release no memories,
Legates suffer no slights,
Inyx abide no roofs,
And Hirrin speak no lies.

—a saying of the Magisterium

“D
O YOU LOVE US, DEPTA?”

Lady Chiron sat in the garden by a small stone pool. Depta had not been long in Chiron’s service; only one hundred days. Being new to her post attending the high lady, Depta had just lately become aware of how much time the bright lady spent in the former garden of Titus Quinn. In the center of the garden, a pool reflected the bright in a hot, silver circle. Chiron sat next to it, trailing a four-fingered hand in the water.

“I do love you, lady,” Depta said in all truth. Hirrin couldn’t lie without succumbing to panic, and it was for this reason that many Tarig, as well as other exalted personages, preferred Hirrin attendants.

Every day Chiron invoked the loyalty test with Depta: Do you love us? The day that Depta said no, she would be retired from service, one way or another. That day could not be imagined. Who could fail in devotion to such a lady—not only Tarig, but one of the ruling five? Depta had always dreamed of a lofty calling. Her parents, shopkeepers in Rim City, had instilled in her the love of service, pride in the meritocracy, and the hope of advancement. Growing up on the rim of the Sea of Arising, Depta had spent her childhood in full view of the Ascendancy, forever in the sky, forever beckoning. Rim City was a part of no sway. Existing to serve travelers on the sea and its rivers Nigh, it called for no allegiance from its varied inhabitants. For one such as Depta, allegiance was a necessity. In time the Magisterium fulfilled that need, and then the lady Chiron. Depta’s appointment to the lady’s service and her elevation to preconsul had been the culmination of her dreams; she could hope for no more. In the service of this exalted being, even minor tasks took on a nearly holy luster.

Today’s work, however, was of the highest import, relating to matters of state: the capture of Titus Quinn.

Depta introduced the subject by reporting on Hu Zha’s mission. “The legate Hu Zha has set out on his journey to Master Yulin’s camp.”

“The miscreant Yulin is no master.”

“No, your pardon.” Amending her statement, Depta said, “Hu Zha will soon arrive in the camp of your servant Yulin.”

“Likely our quarry will bypass Yulin and so quickly go to Ahnenhoon.”

“Yes, Bright Lady.” Depta was sure that Chiron had spies everywhere near Ahnenhoon. All did not depend on one fat old former master of a sway, one of thin loyalties. But Chiron had offered him his life and restoration of his privileges, if he proved himself useful. Depta thought the chances good of Titus Quinn making his way to Yulin’s camp. He would seek Ji Anzi there. He was a man of heart, not logic, and rumor had it that the two of them were lovers. She said as much to Lady Chiron.

“The girl Anzi. We should have brought her here to discover what she knows.”

“My lady, I believe she told Yulin all that she knows. Their plans were simple: to meet at Ahnenhoon, so Yulin has affirmed. He claims she knows no more than that.”

“In any case we do well not to alert Anzi that she is watched.”

These secrets made Depta nervous. If she was questioned about any of this by others—by a lord, for example—she would have to disclose all, thus forcing her to betray the lady. May the Miserable God not look on me, Depta thought with desperate piety. For fear of this happenstance, Depta avoided meeting any other Tarig, and kept to her quarters when not on the lady’s business.

The lords placed all their attention on the Inyx sway, thinking that Titus Quinn would come for his daughter, to finish the work he had begun last time. Depta’s constant hope was that Chiron would quickly find the man of the Rose, and release Depta from her fear of inadvertent betrayal.

Chiron’s voice became thoughtful. “Do you find it strange, Depta, that one who came to the All to save a child should have instead killed a child?”

As she sat next to the pond, Chiron must have been thinking of the Tarig child that Titus Quinn had drowned in another garden of the Ascendancy. He had pushed Small Girl’s body under the water. Small Girl had time to shout his name, bringing Tarig rushing down into the garden. He had fled by then, an infamous defeat for the bright lords, and one that Chiron brooded upon.

“Strange indeed, lady. He was ever . . .” Depta fluttered her lips, thinking of just the right word.

“Malicious?”

“Well. I was going to say ‘contradictory.’” Indeed, he had courted Lady Chiron, then abandoned her; accepted her protection, then rejected it. Such a rejection filled Depta with amazement. What manner of man was this? One could never quite know what he would do. And then killing Small Girl—no doubt because she raised the alarm, because she discerned his identity. Her last words were a scream of
Titus Quinn!
To stifle those words, he pushed her face under the waters of the pond. Depta shuddered, almost pitying him.

“You are too psychological,” Chiron said. “He murdered the girl. A violent act. It must have quite thrashed the waters.”

Now Depta too stared at the pond, much smaller than the one where Small Girl had died, but still. . . . “They found her floating almost peacefully, the rumor had it.”

“Hnn. We will bring this matter up when we see Titus once more.” As eager as Lady Chiron was to find him, she couldn’t pursue Titus herself. But when warning came of the man’s arrival, she would quickly pounce. Traveling by the bright, Ahnenhoon was as close as the other side of the garden wall. It would take as long to rush to her ship as it would to speed to the great fortress.

Once the lady had Titus Quinn, Depta didn’t know how Chiron hoped to keep the other lords from their justice. Perhaps she merely desired to be the one who carried out that justice. Nor did Depta understand exactly how the lady was going to protect Yulin from the lords, when the time came. But her mistress had few doubts, and looking at the lady, clad in draped silver, her features so beautiful—no, Depta didn’t doubt, either.

However, Depta worried about the lady’s obsession with Titus Quinn. The fact that he had returned undetected to this very garden grated on Chiron. He had come to the bright city in perfect disguise and had even stood before Cixi and the doomed Lord Hadenth. At times, Chiron shook her head and laughed, as though a
favorite enemy had won a game.

Chiron dipped her hand in the pond water once more. “Leave us, Preconsul. Send word the moment that Hu Zha reports from Yulin’s camp. The very moment, ah?”

Depta dipped low, crossing her front legs in a complex movement reserved for important bows. Leaving the garden, Depta made her way along a narrow path toward her suite in the Magisterium.

In the canals of the Ascendancy, carp flashed under the bright, the closest thing to pets that the Tarig kept. As Depta watched them swim, she reviewed her report to Chiron. To her dismay, she realized what she had forgotten to say, that the agent in Yulin’s camp must have access to the bright to send a timely message, and this secret means of messaging needed a lord or lady’s permission. Once past his usefulness, the agent must be removed from life, to preserve secrecy, since it pleased the Tarig to limit knowledge of bright-speed communications.

When Depta returned to the arched doorway leading to the garden, she saw Chiron sitting in a chair, no longer looking at the pool, but rather gazing peacefully into the garden. She considered not imposing herself on this peaceful scene. Yet her report had been incomplete, and to rectify this, Depta walked softly toward the lady.

She was resting. As Depta drew near, the lady appeared to be in a profound sleep. But her eyes were open.

Depta fluttered her lips. Then softly, “Gracious Lady?”

Chiron took no notice. She gazed outward, unseeing, Depta thought with a pang of alarm.

“Bright Lady,” she said. “May I have leave to interrupt?”

As she stared at the Tarig lady, Depta’s resolve trailed away. Chiron’s left hand rested on the arm of her chair, as though growing from it. Her face wasn’t relaxed, but frozen in a terrible, calm beauty.

Depta looked around her, up to the high walls with their stony windows, but the manse looked empty, its windows sparkling with the light of the inner precincts.

Stepping close to the lady, Depta extended her long neck within a hoof’s span of Chiron’s face, trying and failing to make eye contact. She whispered, “Lady Chiron . . .”

Chiron jerked her head, focusing her eyes on the startled Depta. “Ah?” Chiron said with great vehemence. “Ah?” She rose, coming to her full height so quickly that Depta staggered backwards.

Chiron’s face folded into a deep scowl such as Depta had never seen before. The lady bent over, staring into Depta’s astonished face. In a voice too loud for such close quarters, she said, “Left, then came back?”

“Yes, Lady, Bright Lady, I forgot—”

Chiron’s expression was awful. “Forgot, ah? Now coming here, sneaking . . .” She advanced as Depta inadvertently backed away, her whole body trembling. Surely the lady’s pique would pass. Oh, let it be soon.

But Chiron’s energy only mounted as her voice rasped, “Spying, Depta, does one spy?”

Spy.
The word stunned Depta. She opened her mouth to deny it, but in a lightning move, Chiron went to one knee and grabbed Depta’s neck, holding it so that she couldn’t move her head. The fingers closed around her throat, constricting.

Depta’s vision blurred in pain. “Lady,” she whispered. “Gracious Lady. I do not lie.”

The fingers opened a little, allowing Depta to breathe. The lady still knelt in front of Depta, locking gazes with her.

Lowering her voice, Chiron said, “Preconsul, do you love us?”

With a visceral shock, Depta realized that she did not at this moment. She tried to control her panic, regulate her breathing. Gathering her courage, she whispered, “No, my lady. I am afraid to die.”

Chiron’s gaze was steady and long. In a quiet voice she asked, “When you came back to the garden and passed through the arch, did you love us then?”

A tear forced its way out, falling down Depta’s cheek. She whispered, “Yes, I did love you then.”

Chiron released her grip, watching Depta with such intensity that Depta feared she had resumed her catatonic state. The garden trees rustled under a breeze, and the pond waters lapped against the stone sides.