Aestival Tide (44 page)

She started to step backward, was thinking of trying to flee into the crowd, when from within the breathless silence came a tiny sound, like a child crying. Reive stopped, Rudyard's hand tight about her own, and listened as the sobbing went on, so faint and heartbreaking that she wept herself to hear it, and heard thousands of other voices catching and crying softly behind her. A gust of warm air brought another rush of the scent of burning roses. Reive raised her head, wiping her eyes to look upon the huge doors before her.

It was as if those moaning sobs were tearing the Lahatiel Gate apart. Reive's breath caught in her throat. A thread of light appeared, the color of pewter, unraveling from the very top and center of the Gate until it reached the floor. As she stared the thread glowed from dull silver to gold, and then to an angry crimson; widened to a band of streaming red that raced up what had seemed to be a solid wall. The band grew wider, the light fell in a shining band upon the floor and flowed until it met her feet. Reive cried out and stumbled backward.

“What is it?” Her voice was hoarse, scarcely louder than that gentle persistent weeping. “Rudyard, what is it?”

The fiery stream continued to widen, and now the Lahatiel Gate itself was so brilliant she could not have borne to look upon it. It was as though the wall were aflame; but while warm air flowed all around her it was not hot enough for a bonfire. The sobbing moan grew louder, rising to a steady wail that was almost a roar. Behind her the crowd moved, she could hear other voices murmuring, calling out, rising in a steady torrent that at any moment would break and roll forward, to meet that terrifying wall of light.

Because the Lahatiel Gate was gone now: a wall of flaming colors rose where it had been. And of course this was not a wall. It was Outside, it was the
World
come pounding at the doors of the city.

“
No!
”

Crying out, she tripped, and felt more than heard the throbbing voice of the Redeemer burst into full cry. When she stumbled to her feet again it stood there before her.

It was a moment until she could even see it, she had been so blinded by that irruption of sunlight. And when she did make out its features—spade-shaped head upon long swaying neck, weakened forelegs, tail making a skreeking noise as it switched back and forth above a gaping hole that had opened in the floor—when she did discern that this was, indeed, the Compassionate Redeemer looming above her, she was more terrified for the crowd immediately behind it than for herself. That was before she realized the Aviators had erected an obfuscating field between the Redeemer and the mob. Reive could see them as through a yellow mist, and hear them, quite clearly, as could the Redeemer and the dwarf. But for the moment they were safe where they grimaced and yelled behind the transparent wall.

And Reive, of course, was not.

“Run!” Rudyard shrieked. She could barely see him, a small greenish blur darting behind her. She fell as he grabbed her, then staggered to her feet again. A long wailing cry followed them as she ran, the dwarf at her side, and stumbled down the steps.

“Try to keep down—can't keep the crowd back forever—doesn't take much to satisfy it—try to keep
down
—” he gasped, and Reive tried her best, yelping when she tripped and fell down a few steps. All around her roared a wind, so loud it almost drowned out the wails of the Redeemer. Spray whipped her face as they half ran, half fell down the last few steps, and then Rudyard was dragging her across something soft and hot.

“No—” She staggered to a halt, yanking her arm from the dwarf, and looked back. The Redeemer still stood on the topmost step, its neck glowing rose-pink against the darkness within the domes. That was what struck Reive—how it seemed to be utterly black in there, so dark that she wondered how she had been able to see at all. Shaking, she turned away. And stopped.

Everywhere was a howling emptiness, a rage of color and light that pounded against her. Above them rose the Quincunx Domes of Araboth, so huge they loomed like an immense silvery cloud. The limestone steps from the Lahatiel Gate ran down to the beach like milk poured from an inverted bowl. Waves of sand ripped across the narrow strand, slashing her cheeks and scalp. Beyond the beach was water, heaving in great sheets onto the beach, white and green and a blue that was nearly sable. She cupped her hands around her eyes to protect them from flying sand and turning tried to see where the ocean ended and the sky began, finally decided the sky must be that paler expanse of gray and steely blue. Directly overhead it was the color of Zalophus's eyes. On the farthest rim of the world, where it swelled against the sea, it was dead black.

“Reive!”

Rudyard's voice floated to her. She turned slowly, feeling as though she were asleep or already dead. A hot wind raked her scalp, bringing with it the faintest scent of salt roses. The dwarf stood several yards down the strand, an impossibly tiny figure against all that thrashing gray and white. He had cut himself when he fell. Where he clutched his wrist, grimacing, blood glowed ember-bright. His voice drifted toward her in broken gasps.

“Don't stand still—it will find you—
keep moving—
”

Choking, she turned and ran, her bare feet dragging through the sand. She headed for the water, a few yards away. When she looked back she saw the Redeemer gingerly creeping down the steps, head weaving back and forth, long scarlet tongues trailing from its mouth. She turned away and continued toward the water, clutching her side where it ached from running. Her mouth was dry and sour; she stopped to cup her hands in the foaming water around her ankles. When she brought it to her mouth it tasted bitter and warm as bile, and she spat it out again.

“
Reive
…”

The dwarf's voice sounded even fainter now. Wiping her mouth she turned, saw that he had straggled back across the beach, heading for the foot of the steps.

“Rudyard.
No.
”

She ran toward him, though it felt as though the sand sucked at her feet with each step. Once she tripped and slashed her thigh on a broken shell. She saw what he meant to do: put himself between her and the Redeemer, lure it to him and give her time to escape. When the dwarf saw her running toward him he shouted frantically, waving her back; but Reive could think of nothing now, she was like a kite cut loose in the wind. The thought of being alone on that strand terrified her; the sight of the waves crashing behind her, that inky stain on the horizon spreading beneath the sky: all of it numbed her so that she could scarcely move. She wanted only to feel something solid against her skin, metal or carven stone or glass, anything but this awful shifting
world.
She thought she would rather die than endure this horror, but then she saw Rudyard Planck.

He had reached the base of the steps, and stood there forlornly, nursing his bleeding wrist. On the steps above him, perhaps two thirds of the way down, the Redeemer swept its head back and forth. The suckers streaming from its mouth whistled through the air, and its wail had deepened to a low, questioning moan.

The dwarf looked up, craning his neck. When he saw how near the creature was he cried out and fell backward, catching himself on the edge of a step. As Reive raced up beside him she glanced aside and saw the blood spilled across the sand, a broken line that ended at the dwarf's feet.

“Don't be an idiot,” he gasped. She smacked him when he tried to fight her off, grabbed him—he was heavier than she'd thought—and pulled him onto her back.

“Hang on,” she said, coughing, bent nearly to the ground. The Redeemer's cloying scent filled her nostrils like perfumed water and she could see its shadow slicing through the brightness behind her as she tottered toward the waves. Rudyard yelled something in her ear but she couldn't hear him. She had some vague notion that if she could only reach the water, they could somehow find safety.

Her back ached beneath the dwarf's weight and her feet slipped on the wet sand, so that over and over she fell, struggled back up, and stumbled forward a few more steps. Looking behind her, she saw the Redeemer stopped at the bottom of the stairs where Rudyard had been, its long suckers touching the steps and sand and then plying questioningly at the air. At the top of the broad steps, within the shadow of the Lahatiel Gate, she could just make out whitish shapes, like teeth in a great dark mouth. The figures of those waiting inside, she realized. They were pressing forward, the oriels must have been removed or else extended to allow the crowd to move farther out, until they nearly crossed into the light. Above the city clouds whipped in gray and white streams, reflected in the domes' smooth glassy surface; but the sky immediately above Reive was dark green. Funnels of sand churned up the steps, the wind made a steady keen whining in her ears, drowning out nearly every other sound. All this she knew in one quick flash; then she was staggering on again, the dwarf clinging to her fiercely as he gasped, “Down—let me
down!
” while behind them the Redeemer shambled across the sand, moaning softly to itself.

They were at the edge of the beach now. It looked solid enough, with just a few inches of foam sluicing across the sand, and then angry blue-black water like molten glass. Reive paused, shifting so that the dwarf could clamber a few inches higher on her shoulders. The wind was so strong it seemed to suck the very breath from her mouth, and she turned sideways to gulp in deep shuddering gasps. For a moment she knew nothing but an overwhelming happiness, to be still and have her lungs full of air again, and to have spray and not sand pelting her cheeks. Then: “Reive—the waves, be careful!”

Something kicked her stomach and she went flying. The dwarf tumbled into the surf. Head over heels she rolled, shrieking in pain as her arm was wrenched, then gagging as water filled her mouth and nose and eyes. She was catapulted headfirst into the sand; something slammed against her side and she felt as though her head were being torn from her shoulders. Then just as suddenly it all stopped. She was sitting up, covered with sand and sea wrack, water streaming across her lap while the wind howled in her ears. Not five feet in front of her the Redeemer crouched over the body of the dwarf.

“No!”

It seemed not to hear her scream, but then she flung herself at it, coughing and weeping as she battered its sides and kicked at its hind legs. The creature raised its head, the long tendrils whipping through the air until they found her. She felt something slash across her scalp, a fiery burning on one cheek. But she had distracted it; as she stumbled backward into the water it followed her. A wave bore Rudyard Planck's body a few feet inward onto the sand, then swept it out to sea once more.

Another wave knocked her down, though this time she saw it coming from the corner of her eye and she flung herself against the sand, so that it passed over her. A moment later she surfaced, gagging and shaking water from her eyes. Her shift clung to her like seaweed. A few feet to the right the Redeemer reared above her, its long neck swaying as though confused. Reive crouched on her hands and knees, coughing and weeping. She started to crawl away from it, but the waves came on and again she went under, and again surfaced, choking.

There was a roaring everywhere, as of some immense machine bearing down upon the strand. And now rain began to fall—it must be rain, great sheets of water pounding against the ocean and striking her slantwise on the chest. Reive tottered to her feet, swaying as she tried to keep her balance. She was so exhausted that she couldn't walk. The wind was so strong it nearly beat her back into the surf; she bent against it and took a few shambling sideways steps toward the shore. She could just make out a small form creeping across the sand, nearly lost beneath clouds of spray and whirling foam.

Even as Reive inched toward shore, the Redeemer followed her, but more slowly. It seemed confused: the wind tore at its searching tendrils so that it shrieked as in pain, and its blind head arched back and forth, back and forth, as it sought to find Reive in the fray. And still it wept, an endless moan of hunger and frustration, and crept closer to the struggling gynander.

And then, from somewhere in the furious sea behind her came an answering echo to that cry. Startled, the Redeemer fell silent. The challenging roar came again. Reive turned, too stupefied to flee, trying to shield her eyes from the driving rain. Another wave knocked her so that she stumbled back a step. When she got her balance she squinted until she could see a dark form in the distance, cutting through the water like a piece of the blackened horizon cast adrift. As she watched she heard another roar, and the figure churned closer.

The Redeemer answered it, its wail louder this time and more angry. The wind threw back a sobbing moan. The Redeemer's head pointed out to sea, twitching on its snakelike neck as though sensing something there. As Reive watched it began to walk into the water, the waves breasting against it until it was swimming, its powerful back legs kicking and its tail trailing straight behind it.

It had forgotten her. At the realization Reive began to cry. Hugging her arms she floundered through the water, knee-deep now and swirling hungrily about her legs. Somehow she made it to shore. She turned and looked back out to sea.

The Redeemer had stopped, not more than a hundred yards from where she stood. Dark waves battered at its sides, and once it dipped beneath the surface, then rose again a few yards to the left. Reive could just make out its wail above the wind, a shrill cry now and fearful. A deeper note called back to it, louder even than the gale. Reive struggled to see what was out there amid the black and churning waves, the water driving down in glassy sheets. Still the Redeemer struggled through the water, its song curdled with rage and terror.

And then a wave like a mountain erupted above the Redeemer, a wave that somehow separated from the sea until it hung in the air above the other creature's questing form. Reive heard a booming roar that all but deafened her, and from the shore another sound, a scream that seemed to split the world in two as she dropped to her knees in disbelief.