When the Heavens Fall (3 page)

“And this is how you would help him? You want to find Kanon, yes? Tell me, what will you do without my aid? Where will you look?” Gill's voice took on a conciliatory tone. “Track down Mayot and he may lead you to your master.”

Luker's head was beginning to throb. The First Guardian's Will hammered against his defenses, driving him back a step. He needed time to think. Gill was right: Luker would need help if he was to find Kanon, but help from where? There was no guarantee anyone else on the Guardian Council knew about Kanon's mission, and even if they did, what reason would they have to share that knowledge? As for the emperor's army of minions, Luker had no way of knowing which of them had the answers he needed. And if he walked out on Gill now, he'd be a hunted man—not in itself a concern, but working out Kanon's last movements would be hard enough without having Avallon on his back. Luker brought his attention back to the First Guardian.
I'm out of options and he knows it.
Biting back on his anger, he let out a shuddering breath. “All right, Gill. I'll play your game.”
For now.

“You'll find the Book before you search for Kanon? I want your word on this.”

“You have it. But I warn you, if Kanon dies because of this I'll be calling on you again.”

There was a flash of white as Gill showed his teeth. “I look forward to it.”

A heartbeat later the First Guardian released his Will. Luker waited for the pressure in the room to ease before following suit.

Gill shuffled to the desk and rummaged through one of the drawers. There was the sound of flint striking steel, and light blossomed as the First Guardian moved round the room, relighting the candles. “To business, then. Kanon's last report came from near Arandas. That was over a month ago. Start your search there.”

Luker crossed his arms. “You think Kanon might have got caught up in the Kalanese invasion?”

“I don't know.”

“What did his last report say?”

“He was following Mayot. That's all.”

That sounded like Kanon. Never one to waste time on words. “Did he say where the trail was heading?”

“If he did, I wasn't told.”

“Meaning?”

A look of disgust crossed Gill's features. “Meaning this is Avallon's mission, not mine. Kanon has been reporting to the emperor's men. I know only what they tell me, and that is precious little.”

“What about the Guardians' spies? Kanon must have checked in with one of them.”

“I'm afraid not. With Borkoth's and Amerel's knowledge, the emperor has moved quickly to dismantle our network of informants. We are now entirely reliant on the scraps Avallon feeds us.”

“Then you'll have to speak to him again. I'll need more than ‘near Arandas' if I'm to find Mayot.”

“That's where your traveling companions come in.”

Luker thought he must have misheard. “What?”

The First Guardian drained his wineglass. “Did I forget to mention them? How careless of me. Avallon is sending one of his Circle to keep an eye on you.”

Luker shook his head. “I travel alone.”

“You're a slow learner, Luker. This isn't a suggestion. It's a command.”

Luker's breath hissed out. “Shroud's mercy, does the emperor want me to fail, then? How am I supposed to track Mayot down if I'm playing nursemaid to one of Avallon's lackeys?”

Gill arched an eyebrow. “I hardly think you need worry in this case. We're talking about Tyrin Merin Gray here, formerly commander of the Seventh.”

“And now a Breaker, I take it.”

“Whatever he is, you'll need his contacts to find Mayot. This is not the time to be sniffing round Arandas for a trail that's likely gone cold.”

“If he slows me down I'll strike out alone and take my chances.”

“Do what you must.”

“I won't take orders from this Merin Gray either. He'll have to do what I tell him.”

The First Guardian's lips quirked. “I'll leave you to work out the details yourselves.”

“Is there someone else?” Luker asked. “You said ‘traveling companions.'”

“Indeed. A necromancer from the Black Tower. The head of his order, no less. Don Chamery Pelk.”

Luker's face twisted. “Emperor's got a sense of humor, at least. A Guardian and a mage traveling together? I must remember to sleep with my eyes open.”

“No doubt the feeling is mutual.” Gill righted the fallen candleholder, then seated himself at the desk. “Now, unless there was something else, I suggest you get some rest. You leave at dawn. Meet the others at the Imperial Stables for a briefing at the tenth bell tonight. Don't be late.”

“I'll be there,” Luker said.

But in his own time.

He had some personal business to attend to first.

*   *   *

Romany hated it when her goddess dropped by unannounced. Why could the Spider not knock at the door and present herself like other visitors, instead of treating the temple as if she owned it?

Taking a breath to compose herself, the priestess settled back in the pool. Perfumed candles floated among the bubbles on the water, filling the room with the scent of moonblossom and mint. Clouds of steam rose into the air, and the delicious heat of the pool was already easing her aches. She could sense the Spider skulking in the shadows behind, but Romany was not about to acknowledge her until the goddess observed the customary courtesies. Instead the priestess spent some time admiring the fresco of Mercerie's harbor on the opposite wall. Such vibrant colors. Such exquisite detail where the sunlight glinted off the sea …

A cough sounded at her back, and she sighed. It was no good. Her equanimity was slipping away. It would be no coincidence, of course, that the Spider had arrived while Romany was bathing, for the goddess never missed an opportunity to ruffle her feathers, particularly during those rare moments when the priestess was taking a well-deserved break from the tedium of her temple duties. And yet, after an absence of more than a year, it seemed unlikely the Spider had come for no other reason than to nettle her.

She sank deeper into the pool. More galling even than the goddess's arrival was the fact Romany had not sensed her coming. The priestess's carefully crafted web of sorcerous wards extended not just throughout the temple but also into every corner of Mercerie: the slave markets, the shrines of the other immortals, the halls of the great and the good. There would be outrage if their denizens ever found out, of course, but Romany had yet to encounter anyone with the wit to detect her illicit and watchful presence. As a result, little went on in the city she did not know about, and absolutely nothing in her sprawling temple. Many of the acolytes soon discovered this to their cost. Only yesterday one of the new girls had seen fit to mock Romany's modest girth to a friend. The priestess had been on the opposite side of the temple at the time, but her web had brought her word of the affront all the same, and the acolyte had swiftly come to regret her impropriety.

For some reason, though, Romany's sorcerous creation had given her no warning of the Spider's approach. She considered checking the integrity of her wards, but resisted the temptation. To do so, after all, would only highlight the fact that Romany's spells had failed her.

A flap of feet, and a red-faced acolyte emerged from the steam to her right. The girl was struggling under the weight of a huge copper kettle. As she wrestled it to the far edge of the pool, metal scraped against the terra-cotta floor tiles. To compound her blunder, the acolyte then tilted the kettle too sharply, sending a gush of water cascading into the pool. The floating candles bobbed precariously, and Romany tutted her displeasure.

Naturally the Spider chose that moment to step into the fuzzy light.

The acolyte squealed and dropped the kettle. It clanged against the tiled floor before falling into the pool. Water splashed into the priestess's eyes and nose, and she half rose, spluttering. The acolyte stood trembling, her gaze moving from Romany to the goddess, then back again, evidently uncertain as to which of them represented the greater cause for alarm. From the girl's expression it was clear she had no idea who the Spider was. The acolyte was new to the temple—the priestess could not remember her name, if indeed she had ever known it—but still, a disciple who did not recognize her own goddess? Absurd!

And yet strangely gratifying.

True, the Spider did not look much like an immortal. Romany had no idea what a goddess was
supposed
to look like, but the Spider was certainly not it. Her ageless, heart-shaped face was memorable only in its plainness. She was short—one of the few people the priestess could look down on—and had long auburn hair. Her gaze never rested for more than an instant in any one place, and her fingers were forever caressing the air as if she strummed the strings of an unseen harp.
What sound would she make,
Romany wondered idly,
if I were to place an instrument before them?

Rousing herself, she sent the acolyte scuttling away with a look. The girl disappeared into the steam. A few heartbeats later a door opened, then slammed shut.

The Spider approached and made a show of studying Romany's face. “Ah, it is you, Rrromany,” she said, putting that little trill on the “r” as she sometimes did. “For a moment I thought I'd taken a wrong turn and stumbled into the Augustine Springs.”

“Time has not stood still since you last graced us with your presence, my Lady. You are aware the temple was attacked earlier this year?”

“Someone broke in and built you a bathhouse?”

“Very droll. Alas, the intruder destroyed various parts of the shrine, this chamber included. I took the chance to introduce some much needed trappings of civilization.”

“Though only in your personal quarters, I see. So refrrreshing to see a high priestess lead by example.”

Romany sniffed. “Perhaps if you had responded at the time to my call for assistance—”

“I'd assumed,” the Spider cut in, “that you were capable of keeping your own house in order. Apparently I was mistaken.”

“This was no ordinary intruder. A disciple of Shroud.”

The goddess's eyes went cold. “Who?”

“I have no idea,” Romany said. “Shroud's vermin all look the same to me. Without question, one of the god's elite, though. He cut through the temple's wards as easily as if his master were guiding his hand.”

The Spider started pacing along the length of the pool. “You kept the body?”

Romany licked her lips. “Ah. Sadly, no. He escaped. Fortuitously. He left empty-handed, of course, tail between his legs. I remain alive and safe, as you can see. Imagine thinking he could best me in my own temple! Such impertinence!”

“Yes, you really showed him. You're sure it was you he was after?”

“Who else?”

The Spider crouched at the opposite end of the pool and dipped a hand into the water. For an uncomfortable moment Romany thought the goddess intended to join her in the pool, and she was grateful suddenly for the covering of bubbles on the water. “It seems Shroud has become more brazen in my absence,” the Spider said. “I have been away too long.”

Romany had been trying to tell her as much, but when did the goddess ever listen? “How fare your concerns in the Storm Isles?”

“Adequately. A new empire is about to rise from the ashes of the old, but the battle for its soul continues. It is only a matter of time before the conflict spreads beyond the borders of the kingdom.”

“And the Emira?”

“Is no more than a minor player, though she knows it not. When the game begins in earnest she will soon be swept aside.”

“And which faction do you favor?”

The Spider laughed. “Oh, Romany. You should know by now that I am never on just
one
side. Only a fool would risk everything on a single roll of the dice.”

“Who, then, are the other players?”

“That does not concern you.”

Romany sighed. “How is a high priestess meant to further her goddess's cause when she is kept ignorant of such matters?”

“I tell you what you need to know,” the Spider said mildly. “And besides, I have other plans for you.” She stood up. “Perhaps we could continue this somewhere more comfortable.”

Romany sighed again, deeper this time. “Very well.” She clapped her hands to summon the acolyte before remembering the girl had gone. Romany's robe was folded over the back of a chair a few paces away.

Beyond reach.

She looked at the goddess, but decided against asking her to pass it. The Spider watched her with a hint of a smile.

“If you would turn away, please,” the priestess said.

The Spider's grin broadened, but she did as she was bid.

Romany rose and climbed the steps that led from the pool. She toweled herself down hurriedly, then slipped into her robe. The silk clung to her still-damp skin in a most unflattering manner. Her slippers, too, quickly became soaked when she slipped them on. As she crossed to the door to her living quarters, she lifted her chin in an effort to preserve whatever dignity remained to her.

Her footsteps squelched on the floor.

The air in the next room was delightfully cool. Light flooded through the windows to her left, silvering the strands of the huge web that spanned the far wall. There was a flicker of movement as her silverback spider scuttled along the gossamer threads. Romany reached out a hand to it. The creature's legs tickled her arm as it moved down to settle on her shoulder. Her acolytes had not yet lit the candles in the wall niches, and the Spider set them burning with a flick of her hand.

The goddess settled into one of the leather chairs surrounding a low table in the middle of the chamber, then selected a scroll from one of the bookshelves stacked like wine racks along the wall behind her. She unrolled the scroll and raised it to catch the light. Romany sank into one of the other chairs, but the Spider ignored her. Suppressing her irritation, the priestess looked at her desk beneath the windows and saw the acolytes had left one of her astronomical instruments fractionally out of alignment. As if that wasn't frustrating enough, the invisible strands of her magical web—focused in a tangle, here, at the hub of her empire—were quivering softly, indicating that somewhere in Mercerie a scandal was in the offing. Romany's fingers itched, but she would have to wait a while longer to find out what developments the tremors signaled.