A Shadow on the Glass (51 page)

Finally Selial spoke, sadly and with prescience. “We have followed you, Tensor, through all the emptiness since the Clysm. You have served us faithfully and with honor all that interminable time, thinking only of the glory of the Aachim, never of yourself. Were it not for you we might have dwindled to nothing. We owe you this chance, and will not deny it—though not without dread. And we give you this warning: beware your pride. Do not let yourself be led into folly. You are given leave to present us your arguments one final time.”

Then Rael, alone of the Syndics, rose and drew apart from the others. “All this evening I have kept silent, but I can sit here no longer. Do not do this thing, I beg you. Remember Piths. Your folly is our damnation, and this time it will be beyond redemption.”

Tensor spoke kindly to him. “Your honor is great, Rael,
but you are so close to her that you cannot see the other side. This choice must be made without passion.”

“Or pride,” said Rael. “Then let me go from this Syndic. I will not be a party to our wrack.”

“Then go with our blessing. Do not violate our trust”

Rael stood for a moment, a tortured look on his young face, then he bowed and turned away from the Aachim. Before he had left the room Tensor began the final presentation of his arguments.

It was after midnight and Llian was dozing, when he heard the knock. Rael had a lumpy sack in one hand and a pack in the other.

“I must speak with Karan at once,” he said urgently, dropping his pack at the door. “The resolve of the Syndics is wavering. Take me to her.”

“She is exhausted and sleeping. Must it be now?”

“It must,” said Rael. “The choice has come down to one—flee or die.”

Karan proved difficult to wake. Once roused she was confused and fractious.

“Go away!” she snapped. “Let me sleep.”

“Get up!” said Rael, pulling her bodily out of her bed. ‘Tensor has prevailed against the Syndics. Soon they will agree to let him
read
you. When that happens you are done.”

“This is monstrous; a travesty,” said Karan angrily. “None can lie to the Syndics.”

“Tensor says that you have lied, that you used some magic or trickery.”

“I have no capacity for the Secret Art—all know that.”

“That defense will not avail you, Karan, though it be true. I know you better than any.”

“Then you must help me, Rael.”

“I cannot, yet I must,” said Rael, twisting the sack in his
hands. “If I aid you, I betray the Aachim and my treason is even greater than yours. If I do not, I betray family, friendship and…”

“Rael, you must choose. Choose wisely. Betray me and you aid the Aachim in their revenge, but if you give Tensor the Mirror the downfall of the Aachim will be beyond recovery. Aid me and you betray your people, but you also offer them hope.”

“Do you swear to me, on the honor of your family and our own long … friendship, that you do not act against us?”

She grasped his hand in hers and looked him in the eye. “I swear it, Rael, by everything we ever felt for each other.”

“Very well, I will aid you. I feared it would come to this, when first Llian spoke of the Mirror. Alas! You have your other house and your unspoken purpose to comfort you. For me there will be no return.” Rael sank his head against the wall where he was standing. “Karan. Answer me truly. Have you deceived the Syndics?”

“I have.”

“And what happened to the Mirror?”

“I have it with me. Do you wish to see it?”

“No. Not now or ever.”

“That is as well,” said Karan. “And now, if we are to go, let us go at once.”

W
hile they were talking, Llian had packed their few be longings and as much food from the kitchen as he could carry, and now he was standing by the doorway listening. Karan looked quickly around the room, heaved the pack awkwardly onto her shoulder and they went out. At the door Llian turned and looked back.
Tales of the Aachim
still lay beneath a chair where it had fallen the previous day.

“Leave it,” she said, catching his arm. “We’ve committed crimes enough.”

Still he looked toward the book, longing for it.

“You are still Aachimning,” she said quietly, and Llian turned away.

“You said before that there was no way of escape,” he began, as they caught Rael up.

“I have disabled the Sentinels,” Rael responded. “What ever the vote, the Syndics will not come for Karan until the morning. It will take time for them to discover our way in
the labyrinths of old Shazmak below. With luck we will get that far. But first we must negotiate these corridors, and any chance meeting will undo us.”

“If there are but two ways out of Shazmak,” Llian thought aloud, “and each many days’ journey, how can we possibly escape? Karan is ill. She cannot walk any distance.”

Karan interrupted in a weary voice, “There is a third way out of Shazmak, Llian. It leads not over the bridges but down the River Garr. For us it is the only path.”

At first Karan led the way, but as they moved down into the deeper levels she became tired and unsure; she fell back and allowed Rael to lead. So the remainder of the night passed in an endless maze of corridors, stairways and long, dark tunnels. Llian stumbled along, a dim globe in one outstretched hand, aware only of the figure in front and the motion of the shadows before him. At last he called a halt.

“It’s no use,” he said. “We must rest. Karan is exhausted and I am too weary.”

Karan had been walking along in a daze. She continued for a while after they stopped before suddenly subsiding on the floor. They rested a scant ten minutes, then Rael urged them on, picking up Karan’s pack where she had dropped it and throwing it over his shoulder. Karan was asleep, but when Llian took her hand she roused without complaint and followed him like a sleepwalker.

After another two hours, as far as Llian could judge, they began to descend into an older, unused part of the city, where the walls were of native rock polished to an oily smoothness, and decorated not with the somber landscapes of Aachan but with delicate, time-worn carvings of the plants and animals of Santhenar. Llian ransacked the Histories to recall who had been here before the Aachim, but
nothing came to mind. The air was warmer and more moist; water trickled down the walls and here and there collected in depressions on the floor. They were well into this lower city when Rael allowed another rest.

“It will be dawning outside now,” he said. “Soon they will discover that we are gone. Rest briefly. They will be swift on our trail, once they have found it.”

Hardly had he finished speaking when the corridor around them vibrated. Less than a minute later came a hollow boom. “The Sentinels are sounding,” said Karan. “They know our path.”

On they fled along endless corridors, down steep stone stairs, finally reaching, at the end of a narrow, damp-smelling passage, a circular staircase terminating in a well, sealed by a broad metal lid. The lid could be opened by a lever connected to a chain that was attached by a ring to the top of the lid. They worked the mechanism and descended into the tunnel below. A chain hung through a small hole beside the underside of the lid. Rael tugged the chain and the lid crashed down.

“Can we not bar the way from this side to buy a little time?” Llian wondered.

“There is nothing to bar it with,” Rael replied tersely. “Come.”

Llian looked down the tunnel. It was empty, save for a trickle of water. Then inspiration seized him and he leapt up, heaving at the thick, heavy chain until he had formed a knot.

“That will hinder them a moment when they try to lift the lid,” he said with an air of satisfaction.

“Not long,” Karan responded dreamily. “The Aachim have a power over metal and stone.”

They hurried on, eventually coming to a huge set of flood doors that closed across the tunnel. “These we can bar from
either side,” said Rael. They had just pressed the doors shut when there came a distant crash.

“Run on,” cried Rael. “I will bar the doors and catch you. They are close behind.”

Llian set off down the tunnel, pulling Karan by the arm. She was almost unconscious and in great distress; twice she fell. The second time he caught her up, threw her over his shoulder and staggered on. Shortly they came to another set of doors: Rael barred these also. Now Llian too was staggering from side to side, his eyes wide and staring.

“I must rest,” he gasped. “I can go no further—not if all the hordes of the Aachim are behind us.”

“They are,” shouted Rael, his face a rigid mask. “You must keep going; it is not far now. Around the bend ahead is a final set of doors and, beyond those, a landing. A boat is kept there. Unless our fortune is very bad it will be there today. If it is not, we should fling ourselves into the river. We will be treated more kindly there than in Shazmak.”

They ran. Soon daylight was visible around the bend. Karan had recovered a little and jogged beside Llian momentarily, but by the time they reached the last set of doors she had fallen again. Once more Llian turned back and hoisted her up. Beyond the doors, as Rael had said, the tunnel opened out into a wide, high-roofed cave, lit by daylight. On the left the floor of the cave continued as a gently sloping rock platform into calm, shallow water. A ridge of rock ran out into the river on the upstream side for perhaps a distance of ten spans, creating a natural breakwater. Beyond this point the Garr foamed and raged. There were two small boats upon the platform.

A dull boom came from up the tunnel. Llian hoisted Karan and his pack into the boat nearest the water and ran back to where Rael was struggling with the last door.

‘Take the packs and get the boat ready. I will follow,” shouted Rael.

“There are two boats.”

“Then push the other out or they will follow us.”

Llian grabbed the packs and ran back to Karan’s boat. He tied the painter to an iron ring on the landing, paid out a little rope and heaved. The boat slid smoothly in and glided out across the calm water toward the torrent beyond. Too much rope, he thought, his heart thudding, as the current caught the stern of the boat and flung it downstream, shuddering wildly. He jerked on the painter and drew the boat back into calmer water, then tied it off again.

Llian looked anxiously back toward the tunnel but Rael had not yet appeared. He ran to the second boat, which was further up the landing, and heaved wildly. It did not budge. He slammed his shoulder against it. Not a shiver! He scanned the landing for something to use as a lever. The landing was bare. He ran back to the flood door. Rael had closed it and was struggling with the bar but could not get it over the racks. The door was slowly being forced from the other side. Llian threw his weight at it and the bar slid home.

“There must be few of them yet, or we would never have closed it,” Rael shouted, as they ran back to the landing.

“I can’t move the other boat,” Llian cried.

They heaved, time and again, but it was stuck fast. Rael hauled in Karan’s boat and snatched the hatchet that hung below Karan’s pack.

“Get it ready,” he screamed to Llian, running back to the second boat and chopping frantically at the stern post.

Llian pushed Karan’s boat out to the limit of the rope and stood there, in the freezing water. Karan was sitting up in the stern, her hand on the steering arm. There came a shattering roar from the tunnel and a cloud of dust billowed forth. Rael
continued to chop. Two Aachim rushed out, followed by a third, then others.

Rael screamed, “Flee!” but continued his work, concealed from view by the bulk of the boat. Llian hesitated as the Aachim swarmed out. Rael looked over his shoulder, gave a last mighty hack, then flung himself across the landing and slashed at the painter of Karan’s boat. It parted and the boat began to move out slowly into the current. Llian leapt in. Rael splashed through the water, sprang up onto the breakwater and ran, pursued by a host of Aachim.

Someone caught the dragging painter but Llian whipped out his knife and cut it free. The boat was moving quickly now. Rael reached the end of the breakwater, threw the hatchet in and dived. He soared through the air, just missed the side of the boat and before Llian could drag him aboard the torrent seized the boat and flung it downstream.

Rael’s head bobbed above the foam for a moment, then he was gone. Karan stared at the spot in disbelief, letting go the steering arm and rising to her feet to scan the water. The boat lurched wildly and water poured in. She yanked the steering arm across the other way without looking, trying to pick Rael out in the foam and the dark water. Water gushed over the other side, the boat almost capsizing. The river opened its jaws and flashed toothed rocks at them. Llian shrieked. Karan, realizing what was happening, jerked the steering arm across and back, and steered an unsteady course downstream.

A number of the Aachim slid the other boat into the water and set off after them, controling the little vessel expertly in the flood and gaining swiftly until they were but a few boat lengths away. They cried out to Karan, all together. The man at the front could almost have reached out and plucked her over the stern.

Karan was staring at them as the two boats raced together. She put her hand on the gunwale, half-rising, and for
a moment Llian thought she was going to fling herself into the water; then there were cries of fear from the Aachim, the boat spun wildly as the helmsman stared at the ruins of the steering arm, went sideways on to the current, rolled over and over and smashed to pieces on a rock in midstream.