“I find it hard to believe that there are no records about who this was supposed to be,” Antomine said, sketching the view from the observation deck. “Anyone who could build so large surely left something behind.”
“Yet, I have never seen anything else like them. Not the stone they’re made from, not the figures they depict.” Jonathan watched the carved stone of Widow’s Peak, translucent red shot through with silver, slide past under the glare of the Endeavor’s spotlights. It had taken far longer than he would have wished, but they were finally back on the course he had plotted. Beyond the Widow was her fallen husband, a miles-high statue of something quite inhuman toppled and shattered across the landscape. “The east seems to swallow everything.”
“Hopefully not us,” Eleanor muttered, smoke from her cigarette pluming from her nostrils. “I’d prefer to remain un-swallowed, thank you very much.”
“Thus, why I have certain stops as yet planned. That which remains can be used to avoid some of the dangers ahead. Some of what I find indecipherable was, it seems, no more foreign to the races here than rain is to us.” Jonathan leaned on his cane, one hand placed on the other.
“Like oversized talking glacilium?” Eleanor asked dryly, touching a cheek that still sported a bruise under her makeup.
“That one was new,” Jonathan said indulgently, tapping his fingers on his cane. “The things I have encountered were at least depicted by friezes in other ruins, and so we had some warning. Storms that turn iron to glass, and glass to water. Places where time seems not to pass, and travelers of all epochs lie frozen like a fish in aspic.”
“So long as it doesn’t smell,” Eleanor sighed. “It’s been a week and I still can’t get the stink of that corpse-briar out of my nose.” She sneezed into a handkerchief as if in demonstration, though Jonathan suspected she was merely complaining for the sake of it.
“I don’t believe there are any such worries, but I believe events have shown we should be ready for more than I have recorded in my journals,” Jonathan told her. “If it improves your mood, there should be nothing of any note between here and Angkor Leng.”
The destination in question lay beyond the end of that fallen monument, the strange red stone hewed and quarried from the statue’s remains and built into a city that had, in turn, succumbed to time. It made for effective navigation, though a path that taxed the engines to power against prevailing winds. Despite Jonathan’s pronouncement, the weather of Widow’s Peak threatened to turn from wind to storm at any moment and, lacking any place to tether, it required solid ship-handling to avoid being dashed into the monumental statue.
Below them the mists of the Bitter Pass plumed out from the rents in the mountain below the Widow, a chasm likely torn by whatever had toppled the Widow’s husband in eons past. Small deserted settlements of abandoned stone sprouted around the mountain’s base, remnants of some ancient past and protected by both the Widow’s presence and the harsh winds that made air navigation hazardous. It still irked Jonathan that they had been forced to go around rather than take the faster route, but it had not been worth what it might have cost to cross Antomine. Besides, the inquisitor’s talents would still be useful in some of the places they needed to tread.
The exhalations of the Pass howled mournfully below them, the wailing of some great damned soul, and the deck shivered as the cries of the wind reached a peak, seeming to shriek within the observation room itself. In that instant the ship went dark and silent. The spotlights went out, and the Endeavor began to list as the wind’s pressure went unanswered by the engines. Eleanor’s maid Sarah let out a squeak as Penelope yowled and shot out of her lap, vanishing down the corridor with a flap of wings. Jonathan steadied himself with his cane in one hand, the other reaching out to grasp one of the holdfasts that were discreetly placed along every wall for just such an occasion.
In the jostling and jostling darkness, there was no sense of up or down, of right or left, and no telling how close they might be to unyielding ground. Yet Montgomery’s experience told as manual operation of vanes and ailerons turned the wild, veering trajectory into something approaching controlled flight. The veterans among the crew knew how to run a ship even without power, though the Endeavor was crippled until the zint mechanisms functioned once again.
“Get what you need from your rooms,” Jonathan said, planting his cane and following his own advice, the shaking and swaying of the ship threatening to throw him from his feet. “There is no telling what has happened.” His calm words betrayed the fury bubbling inside at whatever or whoever had struck at the Endeavor. It was an attack on him, on his purpose and on the very sanctity of sunlight, not merely the meat and metal of the expedition.
For the moment there was nothing Jonathan could do. He had no ability to keep the Endeavor from being dashed to pieces on the mountainside, no way to restore whatever infrastructure had been compromised. Once things had stabilized, however, someone or something was going to find itself at the wrong end of Jonathan’s displeasure.
Eleanor scampered past him, far more surefooted than he was on the tilted deck, and vanished into her cabin. Sarah and Marie stayed in the observation room, clinging to the furniture until the ship leveled out, and Antomine followed Jonathan’s example by using holdfasts to keep himself steady. The Lux Guards were, as usual, still in their cabins, but there was little they could do either. This was not a problem force could solve.
Jonathan pulled himself into his cabin, taking a long breath and eyeing the disarrayed crates and skewed desk. He couldn’t aid the crew in keeping the Endeavor from smashing upon the rocks below but, assuming they survived long enough to tether, the ship would need defenses while repairs were made. The last expedition had not paused at Widow’s Peak, but he had seen some of the local fauna in spotlights and it had not seemed friendly.
He flung himself into his chair and rifled through the desk, both of them fixed to the deck in case of this very extremity. He already had certain instruments that were meant to defend the ship, ones which had not yet seen use thanks to Terminus, but would certainly be needed now. Assuming they survived long enough to tether, but Jonathan had come too far to believe that they would be stymied by something as simple as an airship crash.
The shaking and swaying leveled out over the next few minutes as Jonathan packed items into his satchel and the ship was nearly stable by the time he marched for the stairs. He caught sight of one of Antomine’s guards vanishing down the stairwell ahead of him, but he was the only one who headed for the bridge. Most of the internal lights still worked, the closed zint tubes still functioning, but when he opened the door the bridge was far darker than usual.
Jonathan waited at the threshold as Montgomery snapped orders, letting the captain accomplish the tricky business of stabilizing the Endeavor’s trajectory. It was only then that the backup gas lamps flared to life on the hull, illuminating still-pristine walls and buildings wrought of red stone uncomfortably close below them, but the darkness and stillness of the city below showed it was entirely dead. Jonathan had no familiarity with whatever ruin had drawn them in, but he was hardly surprised — there were plenty of things waiting in the dark, to draw in voyagers in an unwary moment.
Montgomery whirled around and beckoned Jonathan inside. The captain was simmering, his weathered face red and pinched with fury.
“Sabotage,” he spat, as if the word itself was foul upon his tongue. “Someone smashed the main zint manifold. Someone on my crew hurt the Endeavor. When I find him...” The thunderous expression on Montgomery’s face promised wrath whenever he found the perpetrator.
“At least he cannot escape, under the circumstances,” Jonathan said, fully in agreement with Montgomery’s attitude. “Though he can hardly have expected to survive his treachery when we have an inquisitor aboard who can uncover him immediately. We’ll have to; there is no possible way we can conduct repairs with a saboteur about.” It was unclear why the traitor had waited so long to conduct his dark business, but Jonathan didn’t intend to give him another chance. There were some advantages to having Antomine aboard.
“The moment we’re down, we’ll have it out,” Montgomery growled around his pipe, his teeth tight on the stem to stop any more choice words from escaping. Then he turned back to the job of finding a place for the Endeavor to tether. As perilous as the arches and spires of the long-dead city below them were, they were also more practical for tying off the tether lines, especially with the Endeavor bobbing along on the wind currents.
It wasn’t long before Montgomery spotted what he wanted and issued orders. Several men went out with flights suits and the heavy chains at the captain’s direction, quickly wrapping them around a low bridge as it passed below them.
“Brace!” The bos’n bellowed into the speaking-tubes, and everyone grasped the holdfasts as the ship jerked, the tether pulleys no doubt smoking as they took up the slack. The Endeavor groaned and shuddered as it slewed, momentum carrying it almost down to the ground. It wasn’t luck that they didn’t smash themselves upon the unyielding stone of the city’s roofs; Montgomery had clearly selected the bridge solely because of the emptiness of the great dry riverbed below it.
Leaving Montgomery to deal with the matters of the ship, Jonathan stalked out of the bridge to find Antomine. He found the man in the canteen with his guards, who were as ever in their faceless armor. The man seemed to be saying something reassuring to the crew, as backward as that was. The authority of a chaplain was a comfort to men so far out into the wilds. Jonathan crooked a finger at Antomine but waited until he was finished, knowing better than to either interrupt or attempt to discuss the sabotage in the open.
“Montgomery said it was sabotage,” Jonathan said in an undertone, when Antomine stepped out of the mess. “I imagine you will have no issues finding the perpetrator. We’re going to be grounded for a while regardless, to make repairs and ensure that our saboteur hasn’t left us any presents.”
“Really?” Antomine said, more thoughtful than surprised. “Who would be so suicidal? Especially knowing, succeed or fail, they would be trapped on board with an inquisitor.”
“The dark makes people do strange things,” Jonathan said shortly. More than one airman had broken in the endless strange black beyond the bounds of human civilization, even without encountering the strange secrets of long-dead people and civilizations. Sabotage was hardly the worst thing that could happen, and there was a reason any long-haul flight brought plenty of replacement parts.
“I’ll start getting things ready,” Antomine said, lifting his hand to his inquisitor’s seal where hung from the chain around his neck. “I’m sure most of them know it already, so we can hardly take anyone by surprise. The problem will be preventing further damage.”
“You would know best,” Jonathan said, more than willing to cede the process to Antomine. His own approach would be considerably more brutal than the inquisitor’s, as would Montgomery’s. There was no mercy to be had for a traitor.
“How’d we miss something like that?” Eleanor asked, emerging into view and looking somewhat disappointed when Jonathan didn’t twitch, even if Antomine did. “I mean, I know you don’t mingle, Jonathan, but I thought I’d catch a plant.”
“I was not looking for anything other than overt signs,” Antomine admitted. “The best time to discern if someone is compromised is right after, or just before, they move. Considering the stress everyone has been under, the latter is not much help.”
It was left unsaid that the obvious culprits were the crew they’d picked up at Danby’s. The airmen that had come along with Montgomery from the last life of the Endeavor were hardly going to lift a hand against her now. If anything, the difficulty might be in preventing the original crew from ferreting out the saboteur on their own and applying the sky’s justice right then and there. A satisfaction Jonathan wanted for himself.
As he had no role in the drama that was about to play out, Jonathan returned to the upper deck to be out of the way and remove himself from any temptation. He stood in the observation room, looking out over the little bit of a city revealed by the still-functional running lights. It was not a place he had been to before, either by air or on foot, and the style was unfamiliar.
There weren’t the domes and spires like the builders of Tor Ilek or Angkor Leng, but rather steep, sharp-edged walls rising from streets. Streets that lacked a single four-way intersection, or even a properly straight one — every single joining of two roads was at an angle other than right. One of the odd idiosyncrasies that were so common to the races both vanished and present.
In times past he would have gone to his books, either to find a reference for what he was seeing or make records himself, but there seemed little point now. That drive had been consumed, redirected to a new path, and he could think of nothing the city offered that would move them forward. He had no idea of what resources, treasures, or knowledge might be plumbed from its depths and didn’t want to waste the time to find out. The only delay he would tolerate was to repair the ship.
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“We have a problem.” Eleanor’s voice sounded from behind Jonathan, and he turned to regard her.
“It was Robert,” she continued as Antomine arrived in her wake, even though he had no idea which of the airmen that was. “He smashed the intermixer manifold?” She shrugged at the term, not having any more idea about the intricacies of zint than he did. “And the replacement, which would normally be a problem but—”
“I have some facility with that kind of device,” Antomine finished her sentence. “With sufficient glass stock I can restore it.”
“So we can fix that, but he also took the pair of luminiferous gems inside it. And he’s out there somewhere,” she added, waving her hand at the city beyond.
Jonathan grunted unhappily. The gems were something that couldn’t be replaced, even by Antomine, and they vastly improved the functioning of the zint machinery on the Endeavor. Without them they would have to go slower, refuel more often, be more cautious. It was a situation not to be borne, though why exactly this Robert had decided to abscond with them was unclear. They would only be of use to the man if he returned to civilization — something that would be essentially impossible without a ship. Jonathan’s trek back west had taken all his long experience, no few owed favors, and the driving engine of sunlight.
“I suppose we shall simply have to track him down,” he said at length, despite the improbability of the task. “Do either of you have any experience in that regard?”
“Sarah and Marie can do it. Maybe if it were wilderness it’d be a problem, but that’s a city. Should be easy.” Eleanor nodded confidently, glancing back into the hall for her maids.
“Not a human city, nor an inhabited one,” Jonathan observed, but he had no idea what was involved in the process so he didn’t argue further. “Very well, let us waste no time.”
“You’re coming?” Eleanor asked, the two of them following Antomine down the hall. Jonathan glanced into his cabin to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Certainly,” Jonathan said, tapping his satchel. He didn’t know what specific dangers lurked in the city, but he knew he would want tools to address whatever they might find. “I may not be a tracker, but I do know the east. A city that seems deserted certainly isn’t. If we are lucky, we will find our quarry before he – and what he has stolen – is lost for good. However, I need to have a word with Montgomery before we leave.”
“Meet you on the cargo deck,” Eleanor said, and Jonathan headed to the bridge as she continued downward. Montgomery was still there, holding conference with his navigator and bos’n, but broke off when he heard Jonathan’s cane approach, tapping on the deck with staccato anger.
“Mister Heights,” Montgomery greeted him. “You’ve been told of our issues?”
“Yes,” Jonathan said, and offered Montgomery the bronze plaque. The captain took it gingerly, looking at it with silent curiosity. “I will be heading down to help find the saboteur in a moment, but while we are tethered here it is best to have some kind of protection. Hang this in front of the commissioning plaque while we’re here, and it should prevent most things from taking an interest.”
“Really?” Montgomery said, more as reaction than disbelief. He shared glances with his bridge crew, then crossed to the Endeavor’s commissioning plaque on the wall and used the wire on the back of the bronze to settle it over top.
Instantly the feel of the ship changed. No dimensions altered, no lighting flickered. There were no visible differences, but any sense of familiarity was lost. It was as if the Endeavor had been replaced with an identical yet wholly different vessel, one they had never seen before.
“That is damned disturbing,” Montgomery said, his hand hovering as if to take the plaque off again.
“It is,” Jonathan acknowledged. “And I would not suggest leaving it on for any significant period of time. But for now, it should suffice.”
He left Montgomery to take care of whatever business the captain needed to do and proceeded downward to the third deck, where he found Eleanor, Antomine, and their respective guards. Some airmen were still stabilizing the descent tether, testing the pulley to ensure it worked properly.
“Robert took an entire kit with him,” Antomine said as he watched the airmen make final checks. “It seems he believes he actually can survive in the wilds.”
“Then he is a greater fool than I thought,” Jonathan replied, nodding to the airmen as they finally cleared the descent tether. “Though it explains why he thought he could survive his betrayal.”
He hooked his cane over one arm and took hold of the descent tether, grasping the bar as the airmen started cycling the pulley. His fellow passengers came after, alighting on the bridge that the tether chains were wrapped around one after the other. The lines creaked as wind rocked the unpowered bulk of the Endeavor, but were more than equal to the task of keeping the ship where it was.
Everyone had zint lanterns at their belts, casting long beams out in front of them as Marie and Sarah led the way. Jonathan wasn’t entirely certain how they were tracking someone over bare stone, especially since they didn’t seem to be inspecting the ground closely, but that was simply one of the mysteries associated with the Reflected Council. They collected people with very unusual skills.
Jonathan’s cane made an odd crystalline noise on the red stone of the bridge as they walked, an ominous ringing as he marched after the maids. The airman named Robert was dead, even if he didn’t know it yet. If he was lucky, it would be at Jonathan’s hands rather than any of the far more horrific possibilities the dark offered.
The moment they left the bridge they entered a strange maze of odd-angled streets and odd-angled buildings. There was not a single right angle in evidence, from the slope of roofs and doors to the ancient and unlit tripod lamps that rose from either side of the street. Everything seemed odd and tilted, off-balanced and asymmetric. Yet there was little to distinguish one part of the city from the next, endlessly repeating into darkness and every aspect of it calculated for sensibilities other than their own.
Sarah and Marie did not lead them in a straight line, for there was no straight line to take. It was only a long series of narrow turns, making it seem as if they were headed uphill through switchbacks even if the city itself was flat and level, red stone gleaming in the light. The Endeavor was lost from view uncomfortably quickly, and with it the sound of wind, leaving the empty and silent streets of the ancient city.
If anything, it was far too silent. There was no rustling of wings or scraping of claw against stone from vermin, no animal calls or noises. The wind that should have keened through the streets as it came from the mountain was stilled and muffled. Within the range of their light the streets and buildings were perfectly pristine, lacking any kind of overgrowth or detritus, yet the flat stone barely echoed their footsteps.
The city was certainly dead, but there was still something there. He could feel it on the edge of his mind, as if there were things just out of sight of the lights. Lurking in the shadows, behind the polished glass of windows, lingering in darkened doorways. Every turn deeper into the canted jigsaw of the city reinforced the impression, until they were entirely surrounded by forces unseen and unheard.
Nobody else seemed to notice. Sarah and Marie sauntered forward, in no hurry, and James and John guarded the rear, none of them nearly as wary as they should have been. Jonathan frowned to himself, but said nothing. If there was no immediate danger, calling attention to that which stalked them might invite disaster rather than avoid it.
“What is with this,” Eleanor muttered, after yet another sharp turn. “Can’t they let anything be a normal straight line?”
“There are rarely straight lines in nature,” Jonathan replied absently, punctuating his words with the tap of his cane. “The human proclivity for such might be unique.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Eleanor replied, waving her hand at the neat borders of the street. “Straight lines are easy, putting in jolts and edges everywhere is harder.”
“Is it?” Jonathan stopped at one of the sharp corners where the street bent around a building, prodding the point with his cane. It seemed to be incredibly sharp, almost bladelike. “Recall that Tor Ilek was built with circles larger than what we can manage. Whoever lived here might see corners as flat and flat as corners.”
“Well. I guess that makes sense.” Eleanor pursed her lips, clearly considering the strangeness she’d encountered in her life. “I don’t understand it, but I suppose I can accept it.”
“It is just a guess,” Jonathan admitted. “I am not familiar with this style and the singular lack of symbols anywhere is disconcerting. Everything is featureless and identical, as if it were some great mimicry of a city rather than something built by living hands.”
“Um.” Eleanor stopped in her tracks. “You think this is a giant trap?”
“I merely believe that what we are seeing is not what it is. That this city is merely a side effect of whatever intent ruled here — or still does. Best not to see it as streets and buildings but some alien pattern that only reflects a city by happenstance.” For all the strangeness, Jonathan felt no hostility — hardly a sufficient reassurance, but nothing yet seemed threatening enough to accept the loss of the luminiferous gems.
“How many places like this have you been?” Eleanor asked, frowning at the red stone walls with new caution. “That this sort of thing is just normal to you?”
“Dozens,” Jonathan replied. “Even before I met you, I would go along on my father’s expeditions, and then of course you know about my own. It is simply a matter of familiarity; I very much doubt I would be quite at ease in the sorts of places the Reflected Council does business.”
“Eh,” Eleanor said, glancing back at Antomine, who was conspicuously not listening. Not that Eleanor’s allegiances were a secret but certain fictions were better maintained. “People are all the same, pretty much. Easy to understand. Doesn’t matter where you go, they still work the same way. Not like this,” she waved her hand around at the inhuman architecture.
“You can get used to non-human thought,” Jonathan disagreed, watching Sarah and Marie stop and confer, deciding which way to go.
“But you shouldn’t,” Antomine said, finally joining the conversation. “Humans are how we think. Start thinking too much like something else, and you become something else. You’ve seen it yourself with the Cult of Flame, the Invidus Croft, the Gospel of the Smiling Man.” He frowned disapproving at Jonathan. “The kind of experience you have is not something to be pursued. You are quite lucky you haven’t become a monster.”
Jonathan waved a hand dismissively. It wasn’t that Antomine was wrong, but Jonathan was certainly at no risk for being altered by any secrets they might encounter. He had enough knowledge, enough history, enough of a self to remain unshaken by any strange knowledge. Not that anything they could encounter would be more true, more pure, and more primal than sunlight.
“Quiet,” said Marie, the tall and fair one. Eleanor shot her a sour look but obeyed, as did everyone else, coming to a halt in the middle of the street. Jonathan didn’t hear anything, and he considered his senses to be well above average, but it was likely that he just didn’t know what to listen for. If it was indeed even sound they were using; he had some grasp of what secrets Eleanor might be privy to, but not so either of the maids.
At length Sarah pointed, and led them past the intersection and toward one of the buildings. It didn’t look any different from any other, but for a crewman trying to hide from potential pursuers, that was a point in its favor. Jonathan would not have entered any of the buildings of his own accord, and even in pursuit of the stolen luminiferous gems he misliked it. He half-expected the unseen presence to pounce the moment they crossed the threshold, but it remained behind walls and around corners, just out of sight.
Marie hesitated at the entrance and then pushed open the door, which swung on silent hinges. The very shape was slanted and sloped, and the interior was empty save for canted stairs. Finally Jonathan could hear something, a rapid, near-panicked breathing from somewhere deeper in.
Even before their light reached whatever corner he was hidden in, Robert tried to run. There was a sudden pounding of boots on stone, and Eleanor leapt forward, flickering out of view for a moment. A scream came from somewhere up ahead, and they hurried forward to find Eleanor holding a scrawny bald fellow against the wall with the point of her dagger. Jonathan’s grip tightened on his cane handle, then relaxed. It was fortunate that Eleanor hadn’t killed the saboteur, for Jonathan wanted that pleasure for himself.
“Robert Masterson,” Antomine said, moving forward and flanked by his guards. James and John were, as ever, faceless and silent in the armor of the Lux Guards, white and gold and gleaming. “You’re guilty of dereliction of duty, treason, and sabotage. The question is, however, why? For what reason would you sacrifice yourself and your fellow crew?”
The man didn’t reply immediately, too focused on the point of Eleanor’s dagger. Antomine coughed politely and Eleanor glanced back, then took a short step away from Robert, not quite lowering her weapon. Jonathan had to control himself not to take her place, his eyes cold as he took in the visage of the man who would deny him sunlight.
“Because you risk the rest of humanity!” Robert said at last, drawing himself up. “The Exploration Society told you, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you’ve sent that — that thing back toward Beacon.” With each word Robert seemed more sure of himself, less terrified of them. “We can’t allow you to risk humankind by drawing the attention of such things as live out here in the east.”
“That is not your decision to make,” Antomine said coldly. “I am the Illuminated King’s representative, and I am the one who decides whether or not this expedition has gone too far.”
“Hah! The King hasn’t been out of the kingdom! He doesn’t care! He just wants whatever that one is going to get,” Robert said, jabbing a finger in Jonathan’s direction. “You’re not going to stop him.” Jonathan smiled in grim amusement, because on that much Robert was correct. Antomine certainly would not stop Jonathan, though perhaps not for the same reasons as Robert was thinking.
“What made you think you could survive out here?” Eleanor broke in, aiming her lamp at a small sled with supplies piled onto it. It wasn’t clear how he’d managed to land that with a flight suit, but it was irrelevant. All the supplies in the world wouldn’t have helped him survive.
“He did it,” Robert said, jabbing the finger again. “He wasn’t even a senior member! It can’t possibly be nearly as difficult as it sounds.”
Jonathan chuckled darkly, and everyone turned to him. Returning to Beacon from the far east on foot was worse than difficult; it was impossible. At least, it was so for anyone who could not retain their body and mind while embracing the alien elements of the east. Jonathan had the purity of sunlight to protect him, but Robert was not so blessed.
“It hardly matters,” Jonathan said, stepping forward. “I thought I’d left the Exploration Society behind when I left Danby’s. Now, I know I was wrong, but at least it gives me an opportunity to make good on my promise.”
“Stay back!” Robert blurted, trying to take a step backward and failing, already pressed against the wall.
“I said I would destroy the next agent of theirs that crossed my path,” Jonathan said, and his hand shot out, viper quick. Robert choked and tried to claw Jonathan’s grip from his throat, to no avail as Jonathan let the fury he’d been suppressing wash through him. Antomine moved as if to stop him but it was too late as Robert screamed, then gurgled as his eyes burned out from the sheer intensity of Jonathan’s sunlit soul. Then he slumped, scorched and smoking, as Jonathan let the body drop to the floor.
“Mister Heights!” Antomine said, voice taut with rage. “How dare you!” Whatever else he might have said was lost as the presence that had been behind every door and window came howling in after Robert’s corpse.