Hidden Empire (51 page)
Louis, however, suggested that changing their routine for a day might be worthwhile. “It’s not exactly a break, dear,” he
said, his leathery face sporting a boyish grin. “An archaeologist has to take chances, and Arcas really thinks he’s found
something important. Listen to him.”
Skeptical, she looked at the green priest, who was clearly reining in his eagerness. “I went out collecting fossils in a side
canyon where the walls are crumbling. High up, I saw an overhang that appears to be falling away. Deep under the overhang,
I’m sure I could make out Klikiss buildings. A lot of them. It could be an entirely new city, sealed and protected for all
these centuries.”
Or it could just be your imagination
, Margaret thought. But she sighed and reached for her pack. “Yes, archaeologists have to take chances. After all, that’s
why I married you in the first place, old man.”
Louis chuckled and gave her a hug. She patted his bony back, and they gathered their equipment for half a day’s expedition
out in the desert heat.
When they trudged into the winding canyons where rivers had carved through the sedimentary rock, Margaret was surprised to
see the three Klikiss robots rise up from where they were sunning themselves on a broad slab of rock. “We will accompany you,”
Sirix said. “We are always interested in a new discovery.”
“Excellent,” Louis said. “One of these days we’ll find something to spark your memories.” He held out a finger. “And don’t
be shy about making guesses, either. That’s what progress is all about.”
“Very well,” Sirix buzzed. “We will attempt to make … guesses.”
Arcas led them along a dry river course. The big black robots had no trouble negotiating the rough terrain, and neither did
DD. Shadows from high, razor-edged cliffs closed in around them. Tinny echoes of their footsteps and voices sounded off the
sheer walls. Rustlike impurities streaked through the rough rock, as if some primitive and bloody sacrifice had occurred on
the ledges above.
Today, the orangish skies of Rheindic Co had a strange greasy quality, as if high smoke dimmed the sunlight. Margaret hadn’t
bothered to study the planet’s quirky weather, but she thought the gauzy overcast looked a little odd.
She watched Arcas curiously as he hurried into the winding labyrinth, ducked to the left into a small side canyon, and climbed
over rubble that had fallen from the cliffs. The stone walls narrowed even farther.
“This direction,” Arcas said. “Not too far.”
Louis pointed up toward the narrow slice of sky between the enclosing canyon walls. “I don’t like the look of that.”
Overhead, the smear of gray haze had clotted into hard fists of clouds sheeting feathery gray moisture. The slurry of rain
and dust that fell from the clouds evaporated before it could strike the ground, and then came down in a renewed downpour.
“That looks like quite a storm.” Margaret glanced around at the canyon walls that seemed to bottle them up. “You don’t suppose
Rheindic Co is one of those worlds that gets a year’s rainfall all in a single afternoon?”
Arcas sniffed the air with concern. “I wish I could touch one of my treelings and access information from the worldforest.
I don’t know enough about deserts yet.” He looked around. “But let us hurry. The cliff wall is just ahead.”
They picked up their pace, climbing over boulders until they reached another finger canyon. Margaret wondered how Arcas had
ever found this place and then traced his way back to camp. Now she did see a squarish cave opening high up on the crumbling
cliff wall, where parts of a sealed overhang had fallen away. The rubble lay in chunks of debris on the canyon floor.
Even from here the cliff appeared hollow, more than just an arched indentation. When she looked just right, in the light and
shadows of the gorge she could indeed discern something inside the cave, angular forms that did not look like natural rocks
or cave growths. “Let’s climb,” she said.
The striated rock bands could provide a route for agile climbers to scale the face. DD had brought detachable pitons and wall-hugger
attachments for his masters to use, but still it looked like a difficult ascent.
“DD,” Louis said, “you go up first and show us the way. Watch out for any unstable cracks or boulders.”
The Friendly compy didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Master Louis.” He removed the equipment he had brought, briefly accessed his instruction
files so he knew how to use the tools, then scrambled up the nearest shallow ledge. With his nimble mechanical legs, the little
robot zigzagged his way higher.
Louis watched DD, then glanced back at the bulky Klikiss robots, knowing they couldn’t possibly make the ascent. “Sorry, Sirix.
You three will have to wait until we erect ramps.”
“If
we decide to erect ramps. We have to see what’s up there, first,” Margaret said. “May not be worth the effort, old man.”
Louis gestured to the green priest, smiling. “Arcas, would you like to go next? Since this is your discovery, you might as
well have the honor of being the first human to set foot there.”
The green priest looked surprised and then embarrassed. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be better if you or Margaret—”
“Arcas, we don’t care about such things,” Margaret said with a hint of impatience. “Go on.”
The green priest scrambled up after DD, using the handholds and pitons the silvery compy had diligently left for them.
Fat, cold droplets of gray rainwater splattered against the cliffside as Margaret began to climb, waiting at each ledge for
Louis. She knew they would both be sore this evening. They would take turns rubbing muscle balm into each other’s aching joints,
but an excellent discovery would help her get over any amount of pain and weariness.
DD had reached a ledge three-quarters of the way up the cliff face, and the rain continued to splatter harder. After pounding
a thick piton anchor into a crack, he called down. “I will drop a support rope. This last section appears to be very precarious.”
Then a burst of rain slammed into the canyon like a fire hose, pounding against the stone and washing loose mud and sand down
in sheets like oozing paint.
“Hang on!” Louis said, and pushed Margaret close to the wall, giving her the advantage of minimal shelter. They were all drenched
within moments, but the rain did not lessen. Rivulets poured through cracks in the canyon wall, leaching alkali from the stone.
The air smelled thick and slippery, like soap and ashes.
“I hear something.” Arcas raised his voice above the sizzling sound of sharp raindrops, like meat frying on a hot grill. “Listen.
It’s getting louder.”
Margaret heard a crash and rumble, a splashing growl that increased in intensity. Clutching the rough cliff, she looked down
to see a boiling tongue of brown water surge through the narrow canyon. The flash flood came with the force of a stampede,
carrying silt and boulders like projectiles. It slammed against the lower wall, ricocheted and swirled up, licking the layered
rocks.
The humans and DD were safely out of its reach, but stranded on the canyon floor below, the Klikiss robots were doomed. The
three black machines had just raised their articulated arms in a pathetic attempt to defend themselves from the wall of water—before
it blasted them, knocking the beetlelike machines pell-mell as it swept through the narrow canyon, picking up speed and debris.
The Klikiss machines were sluggish and helpless as they tumbled away, engulfed in muddy water. Within seconds they were borne
out of sight.
Before Margaret could cry out to Louis clinging beside her, DD activated his alarm systems and clamored for assistance. Part
of the layered rock wall, saturated with the sudden influx of water, sheared away. Rock slabs peeled off beside him, sloughing
away the compy’s handhold, but DD clutched his anchored piton with one metal fist. The cliff face continued to shudder and
rumble, breaking apart.
Arcas huddled in the shelter of an overhang, hoping the canyon wall would not come down on top of him. More rock fell away,
swept down by small waterfalls. Margaret and Louis held each other as the avalanche continued down into the angry flash flood
gurgling along the canyon floor.
The Klikiss robots were completely gone, swept away.
Finally the rocks stopped pattering, and the sky above turned into a slash of burnt orange as the smeary rain clouds passed
on to dump their deluge on another portion of the desert.
Soaked and cold, Margaret and Louis eased away from the meager protection of the cliff. Arcas had already emerged, blinking
and amazed. DD continued to call for help, sounding like an alarmed child as he dangled one-handed by the piton and the rope.
His compy grip had locked his joints in place, so he did not let go.
Breathless, Margaret and Louis scrambled along the muddy ledges, then used the rope to pull DD back to solid ground. “I hope
we can find the three robots,” the compy said. “Do you think they were destroyed in the flood?”
Margaret looked down at the still-raging waters in the bottom of the canyon. “We’ll have to wait and see, DD.”
Arcas joined them, streaked with mud and unsettled. Margaret wiped dirt from her face. Louis looked at his wife and laughed,
and she shook her head at his own bedraggled appearance. “I wouldn’t be too proud of how you look right now either, old man.”
Arcas, though, pointed up beyond where DD had secured his piton. Half of the cliff had fallen away, exposing an opening into
chambers and grottoes in the cliff that had been covered by sandstone when they first saw it.
With renewed vigor, Margaret climbed up, grasping DD’s rope. The compy offered to go first. “Please exercise caution, Margaret,”
he said, but she quickly hauled herself over the lip into the raw opening below the overhang that had just broken away.
“Louis, come up here!” she called, then looked back down toward the still-shaky green priest. “Arcas, remind me never to doubt
you again.”
Then she clambered into the large, previously unseen section of a pristine Klikiss ghost city, newly exposed by the storm.
T
he invitation arrived in Nira’s private quarters, a mirror-engraved placard asking her to join Prime Designate Jora’h for
a spectacular afternoon of Ildiran jousting. The sleek-skinned courier, though obviously from one of the upper-class kiths,
was far less impressive and magnetic than Jora’h himself.
The courier watched as Nira read the etched letters again, easily comprehending the writing after she had absorbed that skill
through the worldforest database. “I have been instructed to wait for your reply. Prime Designate Jora’h is most anxious to
have you join him.”
The event sounded fascinating, and Nira was pleased to have an opportunity to spend time with the handsome Prime Designate.
“Let me consult with Ambassador Otema.” The courier followed her down the hall to Otema’s chambers, where the old woman sat
surrounded by her potted treelings.
Otema had spread out documents given to her by Rememberer Vao’sh. She read lines and stanzas aloud, reciting lyrical tales
out of Ildiran myth and legend from the
Saga
. The ancient priest looked up at Nira, her expression distant and dreamy. “These epic arcs are filled with unusual twists
and grand stories. Everything is completely new to the worldtrees.” Her eyes sparkling, Otema touched the stacks of records
in front of her. “It would take decades for a single person to skim all this material, much less read it aloud.”
“That is why I’m here to assist you, Ambassador.” Nira had already found the tales of Ildiran heroism, bravery, and tragedy
as enthralling as the Malory epic of King Arthur. “However, the two of us cannot possibly accomplish the entire task. Not
in your lifetime, not in mine.”
“I know, I know.” The old woman frowned with dismay, crinkling the tattoos that marked her face.
The courier waited outside Otema’s transparent door, his face placid but still exhibiting noticeable impatience. Nira saw
a similar engraved invitation plaque beside Otema, where it had been set aside, as if dismissed. Her heart sank.
“Ambassador, I see that you’ve received an invitation as well.” She held up her own, and the light played off its reflective
surface. “Will we be attending the Ildiran jousting, as Prime Designate Jora’h has requested?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Nira. I have too much work to do, too many documents to read. My mind is swelled with the sheer volume
of information that remains to be shared with the worldtrees.” She suddenly noticed the crestfallen expression on her assistant’s
face, and smiled. “You, of course, may feel free to go. Please represent Theroc in my stead.” Seeing Nira’s look of joy, Otema
said in a gruff voice, “Besides, I am certain the Prime Designate prefers your company to mine. He was merely asking me as
a formality.”
“That’s not true, Ambassador!” Nira said, but she knew not to protest too much.
Inside the domed jousting pavilion, Nira sat close to Jora’h in his private spectator lounge. The Prime Designate leaned over
to her, his topaz eyes flashing. When he smiled at her, Nira wanted to melt.
