“No, sir, the mother ship has detected no
activity indicative of sentience anywhere in the system other than
the planetary surface for over a century.”
This baffled Bredon completely; he had no
idea what system Geste was referring to, and did not recognize the
words “sentience” and “planetary.”
“Then it has to be one of us.” Geste’s words
were neither statement or question, but somewhere between. Bredon
accepted it as a statement. He could not imagine how there could be
any doubt; what but a Power could openly attack a Power thus?
Demons, perhaps?
“Yes, sir,” the floater acknowledged.
“Did Mother see that drone that came after
us?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did it come from?”
“The drone was launched from an unregistered
outpost in the immediate vicinity of Fortress Holding.”
“Thaddeus? He sent it?”
Bredon recognized the name with an
unpleasant start. The invisible housekeeper had mentioned it, but
somehow, perhaps because these spirits pronounced the name a bit
differently from the way old Atheron did, it had not really
registered. Thaddeus the Black was, according to legend, one of the
most inhospitable of all the Powers, prone to destructive rages and
possessed of a vicious streak of sadism. The stories about him were
not the moral fables or amusing tales that were told about the
other Powers; they were horror stories, to be whispered around the
fire after the children were asleep.
Fortunately, Thaddeus’s domain was located
entirely in the western deserts, where few mortals had any contact
with him.
“Apparently,” the floater agreed. There was
an instant’s hesitation, and then the machine continued, “Sir, we
are approaching the High Castle, and I can detect no trace of the
drone that assaulted us previously. However, a great deal of
violent activity is taking place.”
“What? What kind of activity?”
“Weapons activity, sir.”
“Weapons? Damn it, open that window!”
“Yes, sir.”
Light poured in from ahead, banishing the
darkness; Bredon blinked, half-blinded, then squinted until his
eyes could adjust.
Most of their protective bubble was still in
place, blacker than the midwake sky, but ahead of them an oval of
light had appeared, allowing them to see where the platform was
carrying them.
They were rushing down a steep mountain
slope, down into a narrow valley. On the far side of the valley
another mountain rose to a sharp peak.
Atop the peak stood what could only be the
High Castle, built as if growing out of the stone of the mountain
itself. Spired and turretted, banners whipping from its rooftops,
its towers soared upward as if trying to pierce the sky. Between
foundation and towers were three great tiers of massive walls and
battlements.
Bredon stared at it in open-mouthed wonder,
wonder that mounted steadily as they swept ever nearer and he was
forced to repeatedly adjust upward his estimate of the structure’s
size. He had never seen nor imagined anything like it.
It was only when they were across the valley
and starting up the opposite slope that he noticed the glittering
specks that flickered on every side of the castle, zipping about
it, fluttering back and forth among the towers. Before he had
consciously recognized them as being similar to the “drone” that
had attacked Geste’s platform, something flashed a vivid red from
one of the specks, splashing against the stone wall, leaving a
black mark—it appeared tiny from his present location, but Bredon
realized it was easily three meters across.
Something equally red flashed back from one
of the castle towers, and the speck erupted into a golden
fireball.
The roar swept over them a second or two
later, and glancing to the side, at either end of the “window” in
the protective darkness, Bredon could see the trees on either side
being whipped violently backward by the accompanying shockwave. The
air around him, atop the platform, did not so much as ripple; in
fact, despite their great speed, the air felt stagnant and dead,
and did not smell very pleasant.
“What the
hell
does Thaddeus think
he’s doing?” Geste muttered. “These are all his, aren’t they?”
The floater took almost a second to reply,
“Yes, sir, the mother ship confirms that all attacking equipment
originated within a two-kilometer radius of Fortress Holding.
Fortress Holding has refused to reply to inquiries.”
Another exchange of crimson fire took place;
this time the drone escaped, unscathed.
“Maybe we shouldn’t get too close,” Geste
said.
The platform immediately slowed to a crawl.
As always, Bredon felt no deceleration; the outside world simply
stopped rushing by as quickly.
The stillness of the air in the bubble made
the distant battle seem unreal, as if it were no more than an
illusion, like the ones Bredon had seen created by traveling
conjurors. It was infinitely more elaborate and detailed, of
course, but Geste was a Power, not a mere conjuror. Bredon began to
wonder whether what he saw was real, or whether Geste was playing
some elaborate prank.
Another burst of red fire blossomed,
followed by another, and then a full-blown barrage from a dozen or
more of the attacking machines. The weapons in the castle towers
replied.
“Better stop here,” Geste suggested as they
drew near the paths of the outermost drones.
The platform halted, hovering a meter or so
above the bare rock of the slope. The blackness of the heavy
protective fields remained to either side, behind, and below. Above
and before them lines and flashes of red and yellow fire spattered
fitfully across the castle towers.
“Put a call through to Brenner,” Geste
ordered.
The floater did not reply immediately, and
the Trickster glanced up at it, startled.
“I’m sorry, sir,” it said at last, “I can’t
get through. All communications with the High Castle are being
jammed.”
“Damn!”
“What’s going on?” Bredon asked.
“I don’t know,” Geste answered. “I don’t
know, but I don’t like it.” He stared up at the battle for a long
moment.
“Is Lady Sunlight in there?”
“I don’t know, but I suspect that she
is.”
“Is she in danger?”
“I don’t know that, either,” Geste replied.
“But I’m afraid she might be.”
Bredon looked up at the flashing of
incomprehensible weapons. “Is there anything we can do to
help?”
Geste did not reply for a long moment. “I
don’t know,” he said at last, “but I don’t think we’re going to get
in there, are we?”
“No, sir,” the floater replied. “I cannot
take you much closer than this while the castle is under fire, and
I certainly can’t deliver you to any of the registered
entrances.”
“If I know Brenner, that castle is even
stronger than it looks,” Geste said, reflecting. “Unless Thaddeus
has one hell of an arsenal built up, he’s not going to get through
the defenses any time soon.”
Neither Bredon nor the floater said
anything. Bredon knew nothing about either Brenner or Thaddeus save
various unpleasant legends, and the floater had no comment to
make.
“Maybe Thaddeus has a good reason for this,”
Geste said at length. “Call Fortress Holding again—tell them that I
want to talk to Thaddeus.”
A moment later, the floater said, “I’m
sorry, sir, but the intelligences at Fortress Holding do not
acknowledge. I am certain that several of them are receiving my
transmission, but none have responded.”
“I think we better call around, see if
anyone knows what’s going on,” Geste said thoughtfully. “Thaddeus
may have a legitimate gripe against Brenner—though I can’t imagine
any that would justify
this
—but he has no business
endangering Sheila and Sunlight.”
“That assumes that Lady Sheila and Lady
Sunlight are, in fact, in the High Castle,” the floater pointed
out.
“Well, that’s another reason to call
around,” Geste said. “To see if they’re anywhere else.”
The floater acknowledged the point with a
bluish flicker, but then said, “Sir, I believe that the mother ship
constantly monitors all members of your expedition, through their
internal systems, in order to provide information in the event of
an emergency. Would you say this constitutes an emergency? If so, I
can inquire as to the exact whereabouts and state of health of Lady
Sheila and Lady Sunlight.”
Geste nodded. “Do it,” he said.
“Yes, sir. The signals from Lady Sheila and
Lady Sunlight have been lost due to interference, but at last
contact both were in their usual excellent health and had just
entered the High Castle in the company of Rawl the Adjuster and
Brenner of the Mountains.”
Bredon marvelled; how could the mysterious
invisible talking thing possibly have learned that so quickly? He
had heard nothing, seen nothing; the thing—spirit, familiar,
whatever it was—had simply pulled its answer out of nowhere.
He would have guessed that the spirit was
just making up its answers, had not Geste put so much faith in
them.
If it was right, then Lady Sunlight was in
danger, and he felt a coldness in his veins at the thought.
“So they
are
in there,” Geste
said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thaddeus
is
endangering them. This
is serious.” He paused to think. “Khalid lives closest to Thaddeus;
put me through to him,” he ordered after a moment’s
consideration.
The floater paused before replying, “The
intelligences at the Tents of Gold report that Khalid departed
seventy hours ago, in response to a shielded call, bound for
Fortress Holding. He has not returned and his present whereabouts
are unknown.”
Bredon saw, in the light from the “window,”
that the Trickster was shaken by this news; no trace of his
customary smile remained.
“What does Mother say?”
“No signal is being received from Khalid. At
last contact he was entering Fortress Holding, which is heavily
shielded against all signals, including the mother ship’s
telemetry.”
“Try Madame O,” Geste said.
“The intelligences at the House of Delights
have been told not to converse with me,” the floater said, “but
they will acknowledge that Madame O is not at home. The mother ship
reports loss of contact upon entrance to Fortress Holding,
sixty-one hours ago.”
“Damn! That’s everyone west of the
mountains!” Geste exclaimed. “What’s Thaddeus
doing
?”
“I don’t know, sir. I would point out that
the Ice House lies west of the mountains.”
Geste waved that away. “I suppose it does,
but it’s so far north it doesn’t matter. Ah...get me Lord
Grey.”
Bredon marvelled at how ready Geste was to
call upon so many of the Powers—but then, why shouldn’t he? He was
a Power himself!
Bredon shivered slightly. He had very little
idea of what was happening, but he knew that he had somehow gotten
himself involved, at least peripherally, in affairs far beyond his
understanding. He had simply asked to talk to Lady Sunlight, and
now he was tangled up in some sort of widespread dispute involving
at least half a dozen of the Powers! Worst of all, Lady Sunlight
herself was in some sort of danger. The image of her standing in
the meadow as he had seen her, her multicolored dress drifting in a
wind that he had not felt, filled his thoughts. He shivered again
at the thought of any harm befalling anything so beautiful.
Geste was thinking aloud. “Khalid, O,
Brenner, Sheila, Rawl...”
A face appeared in the air before them, a
dark weatherbeaten face, half-hidden behind a bristling black beard
and shoulder-length grey-streaked hair. It seemed to glow fiercely
in contrast with the darkness of the protective field. Bredon
started, but realized quickly that this was not an actual head
floating unsupported, but an apparition or illusion of some
sort.
“What do you want, Geste?” the face
demanded.
Geste’s relief at the sight of this
forbidding visage was ludicrously obvious.
“My apologies for disturbing you, Grey, but
I am inordinately glad to see you there. It appears that we may
have a problem developing.”
Lord Grey’s disembodied head eyed the
Trickster suspiciously. “What sort of a problem?”
“I don’t really know—at least, I don’t know
what started it. Thaddeus appears to be attacking
Brenner—
seriously
attacking him. Take a look for
yourself.”
Lord Grey seemed to glance away, then looked
back at Geste and Bredon. “Is this one of your stunts, Geste? Where
would Thaddeus get all those drones? You’ve been playing with
images again, I suppose. Well, I’m not interested.”
“No, Grey, I haven’t...”
Geste was speaking to empty air.
“Damn!” he said. “Get me Leila.”
“The intelligences at the Mountain of Fire
tell me that Leila does not wish to hear anything you have to say,”
the floater replied.
Bredon wondered who Leila might be. Another
Power, presumably, but one he did not recall ever having heard of.
This was all proving very educational; when he got home—
if
he got home—he would have stories to tell for the rest of his life.
He might well become a storyteller without even trying.
He listened with interest as Geste continued
calling.
“
...still he refused to give up. He chased her
ever deeper into the forest, never gaining a centimeter, but never
quite losing sight of her, either.
“
At last he collapsed, exhausted, beside a river.
He lay there gasping for breath, dipping his hands in the water and
cooling his face with them. And the mysterious woman appeared among
the trees on the far side, calmly watching him.
‘“
Hello,’ she called to him. ‘Were you looking
for me?’