Seeklight

“Just the old translator. Just before he grew sick and died a few months ago, he told me that the letter the subthane’s men came aboard with, did say who you were. He was one of your father’s old followers, too, so he didn’t give you away.”

They both fell silent, looking at the gleaming metal.

“There’s nothing else I can tell you,” said the mechanic finally.

“I don’t know how or why your father died—that’s what you want to know, isn’t it? Then go into the Capitol.”

Daenek pulled the chain over his head and tucked the square of metal into his shirt. “Yes,” he said, his own voice sounding distant. The chain was cool against his skin. “That’s where the answers would have to be. If they’re anywhere at all.”

Benter nodded and got to his feet. He stepped across the room and began to open the door, but stopped as Daenek turned towards him.

“It hurt so badly,” said Benter quietly. “When we first heard of your father’s downfall. All of us who had faith in him. It was as if all the hopes in the world had died. And we never even knew what we were hoping for.” He pulled the door open, then closed it gently behind Daenek as he stepped through.

He gazed down the long corridor. The caravan was eerily quiet, the engines shut down and nearly all the mertzers already departed for the nearby inns. He hesitated outside the head mechanic’s door, as if listening for a sound that never came, then turned and walked toward the stairs.

Rennie was waiting for him in the room they had shared for the last two years or more. “What took you so long?” she demanded.

“Nothing.” He picked up his bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. “Let’s get going.”

Chapter XVI

They had wound their way through the maze of warehouses surrounding the caravan’s unloading area when Rennie said, “Wait up a second.”

Daenek stopped and slid his pack from his shoulders. It had been late afternoon when the caravan had pulled into the Capitol, and now the setting sun tinted grange the city buildings ahead of them. He felt little disappointed as he gazed up the narrow alleyway they had stopped in. Almost nothing in the city seemed to be much higher than the one and two story village buildings of which he had seen so much, even though these in the city appeared to be made from the same smooth white material that the Lady Marche’s house had been.

The exception was a massive, many-windowed edifice in the distance that dwarfed the low buildings around it. Daenek assumed it was the Regent’s palace. And before that, he thought, it was my father’s. He turned, hearing the rustle of paper behind him, and saw Rennie unfolding a large map. “Where did you get that?” he said.

“Stole it out of the bridge,” she said nonchalantly. “They’d never have any use for it—it’s just of the Capitol.” She knelt down and spread it on the ground. “Now here’s where the caravan came in.” She traced out a spot with her finger. “And this must be the landing pit over here, for the starships. And we’re walk-ing east, so that means we should be right about here.” She tapped another spot with her finger.

Daenek looked down at the map’s jumble of lines and spaces.

“So?”

“So if we keep on going in the same direction, we should hit the central part of the city. Maybe find a place to spend the night.”

“Wonderful,” said Daenek. “For that we needed a map?”

Rennie shrugged and began refolding the paper. “You never know.”

They continued on through the deserted alleyways, past the silent buildings with doors agape to reveal empty interiors. The population must have shrunk, thought Daenek, from what it used to be. Even here things are dying. As the twilight grew dimmer, a few lights flickered on in the windows of the buildings in the distance before them. They hurried their steps to reach them before it was completely dark.

“What’s that?” said Daenek suddenly. He thought he saw a group of white-robed figures standing on the roof of a building at the end of the street.

“Ahh, those damn sociologists,” muttered Rennie. “Don’t worry about them, they can’t recognize you. And ignore ’em, we don’t have time to answer any of their dumb questions.”

The space between themselves and the projected images of the sociologists lessened as they proceeded up the narrow street.

The buildings on either side were silent and decaying from long disuse.

What are they waiting for up there? thought Daenek. As he and Rennie passed beneath the rooftop, the images were projected upon, he looked down to the street to conceal his face, although it was still set in its mask. A piece of crumbled roofing tile clattered into sight, dislodged from above.