Read Beyond the Gate (The Golden Queen) (Volume 2) Online
Authors: David Farland
Beyond the Gate (The Golden Queen) (Volume 2) (18 page)
“You seem certain,” Ceravanne said, setting down her fork, watching the Caldurian for a confirmation.
The Caldurian shrugged. “I hear things.”
“What kinds of things?” Ceravanne asked.
“Rumors.” Aherly laughed, too nervously. “Rumors are all you’ve heard.”
The Caldurian studied his face, and seemed to take a warning from it, as if perhaps it was unsafe to speak further. “Rumors,” she agreed.
That night in Gallen and Maggie’s room, when the waves rode high and the boat tossed on the sea, Orick lay sprawled on the floor while Ceravanne reclined on his stomach, as if it were a pillow. Gallen and Maggie gathered round and held a council, speaking softly.
“What is this about a war?” Gallen demanded from Ceravanne, his voice almost a hiss. “You said nothing about it last night!”
“It’s a rumor started by the Immortals,” Ceravanne said. “So long as the hosts of the Inhuman believe that we have troops massed and prepared, we hope that they will not march against us. Meanwhile, we are trying to gather armies. A muster has gone out. Our lords fear that now that the dronon have left, the Inhuman will try to seize power. As to whether the Inhuman has gathered armies, we do not know. So far, we have heard only rumors, no more substantial than those we have spread ourselves.”
“What if those rumors are true?” Gallen asked, incredulous. “You want us to march into an armed country?”
“We have no choice,” Ceravanne said. “But think of this: if armies are now gathering, a muster could work to our advantage by drawing soldiers away from Moree. It could aid our quest.
“Gallen, you must understand something,” Ceravanne said. “We don’t know how many foes we are up against. As the Caldurian told you, the people of Babel have never been numbered, and we can’t even guess how many have joined the Inhuman. But there is one thing we do know: we know the quality of their troops. The Tekkar are swift and brutal in ways you cannot comprehend. They live in dark warrens carved into the stones, and no one can guess their numbers. They alone would sorely test our defenses. Their swift-winged scouts can fly long and far, coordinating armies in ways that we cannot match. And there are thousands of lesser races in Babel, each with its own unique strengths.
“Gallen, the message we sent to the rebels was recorded six months ago. It took a long time to contact you. I’ve been waiting for you now for months, and you may have come too late to do much good. It may be that we cannot avert a war.
“I fear that the hosts of the Inhuman will sweep across Northland, and the human hosts of Tremonthin may be decimated.
“But no matter what our quest may accomplish, we must at least try.”
“If I’d known this last night,” Gallen said, “we could have hurried!”
“Hurried where?” Ceravanne said. “It would have been foolish to try to leave port in the dark, even if we’d had a trustworthy captain handy who was willing. We left as soon as we could, and we cannot make the wind blow us any faster. We’ve hired a lofty ship—but until we reach port in Babel, you and I have no power to even begin the race to Moree.
“Gallen, there may be more dangers ahead than I have told you, depending on our route. There are peoples in Babel who do not think as we do, and we may be unsafe among them. Some, like the Derrits, are uncivilized and eat other peoples for food. Some, like the Tekkar, are civilized and more brutal. And we are just as likely to find unexpected friends. It has been five hundred years since I left Babel, and I do not know what people occupy the lands now. Mostly, I fear the Inhuman and its Tekkar. But I do not want to burden you with possible dangers.”
“Tell me this, then, at least,” Gallen said. “Why are you here? Why did you insist on coming? Why do you insist on facing the Inhuman yourself?”
“I came for many reasons,” Ceravanne said. “I came because you need a guide, and few in the human lands could do this. I came because I fear that you may not have the heart to do what is required, and I hoped to give you strength, and to help rally the people of Babel to our need, if possible.” She leaned closer and said softly, “Gallen, it is not enough to destroy the Inhuman—I have come to undo the damage it has wrought.”
“Ooh! How can you do that?” Gallen asked.
“I’m not sure,” Ceravanne said. “I can only try.” She plainly did not want to say any more.
“Right, then,” Gallen mumbled. He turned away from her in frustration, bit his upper lip. There were volumes that needed to be spoken between them, but they would not be spoken now. “We must take stock of our situation.
“What did you think of our dinner guests tonight?” Gallen asked, looking between Ceravanne, Orick, and Maggie. “It seems to me that other folks had secrets to keep. Not just us. I don’t trust Zell’a Cree.”
“Why not?” Ceravanne asked.
“He claimed to be a merchant, but when I asked what he sold, he didn’t tell. Every merchant I’ve ever met is quick to grab your collar, and if he’s any good, he’ll try to unload half his wares before you get away. That man is no merchant, and he’s no human.”
“He is a Tosken,” Ceravanne said. “Outwardly, he can pass as human. Inwardly, he is something else entirely. Still, they are a peaceful people.”
“You don’t think he is dangerous?” Gallen asked.
“He has no fear—of death, of pain, of strangers. And because he has no fear, he is not likely to harm us.”
“And what of the captain?” Maggie said, bending down close to Gallen, taking his hand in hers. “He practically admits that he transports those who are in league with the Inhuman.”
“If he were secretly in league with the Inhuman, would he admit to transporting them?” Ceravanne asked. “No, I think he is like any merchant. He would rather make money than ask dangerous questions.”
“And if he is loyal only to money,” Orick said, “then he’s loyal only to those who pay the most—or last. As long as our purse has a bottom, I won’t trust him.”
“Tallea said she was loyal to the truth,” Maggie whispered.
“Yes,” Orick said, excited. “A curious sentiment. Which truth, do you think? And why did she leave Moree? To escape the Inhuman?”
“She’s not loyal to the Inhuman,” Ceravanne said.
“How can you know? Maggie asked.
“She wore no belt.”
“What do you mean?” Gallen asked.
“Tallea is a Caldurian,” Ceravanne said. “Her people are often called ‘the Allies.’ They were created long ago—long before the Tharrin were formed—by corporate warlords who sought total devotion from their workers. When they are young, Caldurians may bond to a certain patron, and they remain faithful throughout life. And when they bond, they wear a belt as a sign of their bondage. She is not bonded to Captain Aherly, or to anyone else.”
Orick looked at Ceravanne appreciatively. She seemed to have a keen eye, and he saw now that her presence on this journey would be invaluable.
“Which means that she might hire her services out to us,” Ceravanne considered. “She would make an excellent escort.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a man?” Maggie asked. “Someone who is stronger?”
“A Caldurian woman is stronger than a man of most other races,” Ceravanne said. “You saw the rings on her fingers? Six master rings of emerald for her swordsmanship. Four rings of topaz for staff. When a Caldurian proves equal in training to a master, he or she gets a ring. To win more rings, they must cut them from the fingers of their dead foes.
“She is an accomplished warrior, and it is rumored that the Caldurians cannot be turned by the Inhuman.”
“Why not?” Gallen asked.
“Some think that it is because they are so highly disciplined,” Ceravanne said. “Others think that their minds are just too different from ours, so the Word cannot function properly with them. It is whispered that the Inhuman does not even bother to try to convert them now. Instead, they are killed outright.”
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Orick said, “but I’m getting nervous with all of this talk. I think there’s trouble on this ship. I saw those Tekkar. Even without your warnings, I knew they were dangerous.”
“Yes,” Ceravanne agreed. “The Inhuman is with us, but does it know of our plans? Will it seek to thwart us?”
“I don’t think any of them followed us from the city,” Maggie said. “Orick and I watched the boats, and we saw no familiar faces.”
“That’s a good sign,” Gallen agreed.
“But the Inhuman is often subtle,” Ceravanne warned. “Just because you do not see it, that does not mean it isn’t here. We should take care. We should stay to our cabins as much as possible for the duration of the trip, and never speak openly about our quest again. I know that it is much to ask for you to agree to such seclusion, but it should only be six or seven days till we reach Babel.”
Well?” Captain Aherly asked.
Zell’a Cree pulled his head away from the cabin wall where he’d been listening. “They don’t suspect either of us strongly,” he whispered. “But they are wary of the Tekkar.”
“You should have left the Tekkar in Northland,” Aherly said. “They’ll be nothing but trouble. They’ve already asked my permission to kill some of our guests. I denied them, but they’re thirsty for blood.”
“Yet we may need their services before this is over,” Zell’a Cree whispered. He considered. He had only three copies of the Word left in his pouch. He couldn’t harvest all of the souls in the neighboring cabin. But perhaps he didn’t need to. The bear was expendable. Still, most unwilling converts would fight the Word, and there was no way to be certain that three copies would be enough.
“The Tharrin woman, Ceravanne, is beautiful,” Aherly said. “I have often longed to see a Tharrin. And yet I find that if I had seen this one on the street, disguised as she was, I would have passed her, never knowing what she was, knowing only that she was lovely.” His tone became hard, commanding. “Whatever happens, I don’t want you or your men to kill her.”
“She’s more than just beautiful, she’s useful. I’ll order the Tekkar to stay in their room,” Zell’a Cree agreed.
Aherly shook his head in bewilderment. “Are you sure these people are what you say they are? Gallen and Maggie look like … well, just nice kids. Not Lords of the Swarm. And Ceravanne looks like their younger sister. They’re practically children!”
“Were we not children before the Inhuman claimed us?” Zell’a Cree said.
“Well, yeah,” Aherly fumbled.
Zell’a Cree sighed, obviously fatigued. “We’ll find more copies of the Word when we reach port. It seems that time is against our friends. From now on, at night we will put the sails at quarter mast.”
“You bastard!” Captain Aherly said. “I’ve got cargo to carry. You’ll cost me days!”
Zell’a Cree scowled at the man. Aherly might be Inhuman, but he was still greedy, a vice that Zell’a Cree could not claim for himself.
“If you have complaints about how I treat you,” Zell’a Cree whispered dangerously, “perhaps you should take them to the Tekkar.” Zell’a Cree was a broad man, incredibly stocky, so that even in spite of the fact that he was not much taller than Aherly, Zell’a Cree seemed to dwarf the captain.
Aherly’s jaw quivered, and Zell’a Cree studied the movement … wondering if he could learn to simulate fear.
* * *
Chapter 15
That night, Gallen wore his mantle to bed. The heavy metal ringlets were uncomfortable, and the many tiny knowledge crystals dangling from it tinkled when he moved his head. But he cared little for sleep this night. He needed knowledge, and so he lay thinking for a long time, wondering how best to speed their trip to Moree.
With his mantle’s many sensors, he could see around the room clearly, and he let the mantle heighten his hearing, until the creaking of timbers and water lapping the hull were well amplified. Maggie slept beside him in the narrow bunk, facing the wall, and Gallen enjoyed the sweet scent of her off-world perfumes.
He lay curled against her, smelling her hair, just holding her.
Outside, there was the occasional sound of a scout calling his reports, and the scurry of feet over the weather deck.
Gallen tried to call up files about the Tekkar, but he was using Veriasse’s old mantle, and Veriasse had never battled that race. His mantle carried information about the planet Tekkar—a fiendishly hot world where near-sentient dragons hunted by night. Gallen could guess at the specifications one might set in creating a subspecies to dwell on that world, but the reasons for colonizing the place at all were baffling.
And so after a bit of study, Gallen let his mantle seek files on other subspecies he would find on Tremonthin—size, coloration, distinctive features; visual, auditory, and olfactory sensitivity; speeds and strengths; various traits. The information he received was very discomfiting. He found that many races had been boosted for sensitivity, for dexterity, for intelligence, for fierceness.
The Lords of Tremonthin were designing subspecies to colonize thousands of worlds in this galaxy and beyond, yet Gallen saw that the attributes given to some made for incredibly dangerous combinations. He shook his head in wonder, wishing vainly that Ceravanne and the other Tharrin would have had more control over such decisions.
Late in the night, Gallen suddenly became aware of soft footsteps outside his door, and he realized that for several minutes he had heard stealthy sounds—the creaking of timbers at long, infrequent intervals.
For a moment, he watched his door. He’d thrown the bolt home before retiring, but he watched the door handle. His mantle let him see it dearly in the dark, and Gallen silently willed the mantle to let him view the scene in infrared.
He spotted two people standing on the other side of the door—their form revealed by the warmth of their body heat striking the planks.
For a long time they stood, then one of them gently pulled the wooden door handle, testing to see if the door was locked.
Gallen silently sat up, pulled his knife from his sheath, and began stalking toward the door, thinking to pull it open, surprise the men.
He slid his feet across the floor, careful to make no sound, and his mantle detected none. But suddenly the man at the door froze and distinctly hissed to his companion, “The Lord Protector!” They turned and fled above deck.
Gallen rushed to his door, threw it open, and raced above deck. The deck was cluttered with the lines and mast, dozens of nooks where someone might hide. There was a swift, cold breeze outside, and a dozen sailors were on deck, but Gallen couldn’t be certain which of them had been at his door. He looked at them in infrared, and their bodies seemed to shine while flames flickered across their skins as if they were demons from hell.
He addressed one giant who stood at the wheel above him, back turned. “Did you see anyone come up here just now?”
The giant looked over his shoulder. “No. But I heard a noise. Could have been someone.”
Gallen nodded. There was no one else close enough to have been keeping watch. He looked up, noticed that the sails were at quarter mast.
“Why are the sails lowered?”
The giant shrugged. “Cold wind from up north, I guess. Might bring a squall. Captain said to lower them. It’s his ship.”
Gallen pulled his tunic up tight around his throat. It was a cold wind. Very cold.
He looked to the deck to see if there were any prints. The blackguards’ body heat should have left its mark. But the men had run too quickly, and he could see no trail. At least the sensors in his mantle weren’t strong enough to pick it up.
He asked the mantle to give him an olfactory boost, but this was a feature of his mantle that Gallen had not used before, and the heavy odors that came to him meant nothing.
He grunted, went below deck, and bolted his door. Maggie had slept through the whole thing.
Gallen lay back rehearsing what had just happened, and he could not recall making a sound that would have alerted the intruders. He had his mantle play back the recorded sounds of the incident, and there was nothing that could have alerted the intruders.
Which meant there was but one alternative: they had to have seen him. His foes could see infrared. But far worse, Gallen realized, was that even though he had kept his mantle and weapons concealed, his foes knew that he was a Lord Protector.
The next morning, Gallen asked Orick to check the corridor, see if he could track the intruders by scent. But the cabin boy had already come through the hall that morning, swabbing the decks with lye.
So Gallen went to the captain’s quarters to speak with Aherly, and Orick followed. Gallen had hoped to meet the captain in private, but his bodyguard, Tallea, was there. The captain sat in a stuffed chair at his desk, writing in his log, and Tallea stood at his shoulder, her eyes alert, muscles bunched.
Still, Gallen felt he needed to speak now. “Two men tested the doors to my room last night, trying to break in,” he informed the captain.
Aherly looked at him askance, his balding head gleaming in the light from the portal. “That’s a substantial accusation. Was anything taken, anyone harmed?”
“No,” Gallen said. “But they did try my door.”
“Did you see them? Could you point them out to me again?”
“I didn’t see their faces, but they were of normal height.”
“Of normal height?” Aherly pursed his lips. “That’s not much of a description.”
“And I know that they can see in infrared,” Gallen added, hoping to narrow the field.
“It’s a common trait in Babel—or even in Northland, for that matter.” Aherly shrugged. “Half of my crew has it—all of the night watch. I insist on it, for safety’s sake. I would love to resolve this situation, but—is there anything more I could go on?”
“Nothing,” Gallen said. “Except—could it have been the Tekkar? Were they out last night?”
“I’m sure they were, but it would prove nothing. The Tekkar prefer darkness, and they sleep during the day.”
Gallen stood thinking, and Captain Aherly said, “Look, sir, I don’t know what I can do about this matter. But it does concern me. So, I have but one question for you: do you feel unsafe on my ship? Do you feel threatened in any way?”
Whoever had tried his door last night knew Gallen was a Lord Protector. And if he knew that, he would almost certainly know Ceravanne’s identity, and Maggie’s. Gallen could not ignore that threat, and it was so horrific that he wished he could hide it from his companions. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to get off this ship. “I do,” Gallen admitted. “I feel threatened clear down to my boots.”
The captain frowned. “Then there is only one thing to do. I deal with many kinds of people, some who feel threatened by things that are real, others who feel threatened by things that are imaginary.…”
“Och, here now,” Orick grumbled, “Gallen’s not one to go about imagining devils and banshees—”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply.…” the captain said, studying Gallen’s eyes, “I just mean that—it is … it is my policy to make all of my customers feel safe aboard my ship. Welcome and secure. Which is why I hire the Caldurian.
“Would you feel safer if I assigned Tallea to watch your rooms at night?”
Gallen studied the warrior. She had short dark hair with streaks of gray, and deep brown eyes that were very intense. She moved with a grace and power that he only someday hoped to match, and Ceravanne had said that the woman could not be Inhuman.
“Yes,” Gallen said. “I would feel safer.”
“Good,” Aherly smiled. “She will be outside your doors from dusk to dawn.” He began to fumble with a drawer of his desk, as if he would open it. “Uh, look,” he grumbled. “I assure you that I want to catch these intruders as much as you do. I try to run a clean ship. I pay my crew well, but it may be that one or two of my men—or even some of the other passengers—were intent on pilfering. If that’s the case, it’s bad for my reputation, you see?”
Gallen nodded, for he could ask no more of the man, but as he turned away, he muttered under his breath, “That’s not the case.”
He went back to his cabin, and called a meeting. When Ceravanne heard his tale, she was terrified.
“Are you sure that the intruder called you ‘Lord Protector’?” Maggie asked Gallen.
“Certain,” Gallen answered. “I was wearing my mantle. I’ve played back the recording a dozen times.”
“Then the Inhuman’s agents are on the ship, and they know who we are,” she said.
Maggie and the bear looked at the porthole, then at the door, as if the Inhumans would come piling in at any moment. “What can we do?”
Gallen had been sitting cross-legged, but he pulled his legs up, wrapped his arms around his knees. “I see only one thing that we can do. I have to find the servants of the Inhuman, and eliminate the threat.”
Ceravanne said, “Perhaps you’re wrong in imagining that it is the Inhuman. Perhaps these intruders know only that you are a Lord Protector. We were gone from our room for a time last night. Perhaps someone entered the room and went through your pack, found your mantle and incendiary rifle.”
“Perhaps,” Gallen admitted. “But I think you are only hoping for the best. If they were thieves, why didn’t they just take my things, then?”
Ceravanne could come up with no answer.
“There are lifeboats aboard,” Maggie said. “We could sneak off the ship some night, try to make it to shore.”
“The night crew can all see in the dark,” Gallen countered. “To them, you glow like a firefly. You’ll not get off this ship unnoticed.”
“Then we’ll have to be patient, and courageous, and wait,” Ceravanne said.
“For what?” Orick demanded.
“For them to come to us,” Gallen said.
* * *
