“Where does it go?” she asked; although she could see quite clearly that it led to the Gate.
“It’s for the sacrificial victims.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it quickly; his was freezing cold. “In years past they sometimes had the hecatombs descend it. It’s amazing it still stands. It’s so they can all see us. The Gate opens, and we go out first, and then they free the Redeemer….”
It did not take very long to reach the end. As they descended the smell of the crowd grew heavier, sweat and perfumes, the odor of petroleum that hung about the Archangels in the refineries, and the metallic scent of blood. Overpowering all of it was the stench of the Redeemer, so intense down here that Reive breathed through her mouth. There was no longer any temptation in the smelclass="underline" it sickened her, and she almost longed for the Gate to open so that it might disperse.
And then Rudyard was at the bottom, his face very pale, and he turned to help her down the last two steps. As she walked onto the smooth bronze floor before the Gate she felt the silence behind her like a wall, pressing so close that she thought she’d scream. When she looked at the Narthex balcony it was so small and so far away that her nausea grew even stronger. She reached for Rudyard and clung to him, and together they gazed up at the Lahatiel Gate.
It rose, up and up and up, a great bronze wall so smooth and dark it seemed impossible there could be a seam anywhere upon its surface. But then it moved; almost imperceptibly it shuddered as though buffeted from outside by a terrific wind. Reive suddenly thought of Ucalegon, the monstrous storm, and how even now it might be tearing at the outside of the domes. A shaft of pure terror raced through her. The Redeemer at least was something from within the domes, something engineered by the Ascendants and protected for all these years by the Architects. But a storm? She could not even imagine it, only recall the shape of the wards traced upon her breasts and scalp, slender lines coiling in upon themselves, and a wave ringed with teeth. She should have gone with Zalophus, even if it meant being devoured by him; even if it had only been a dream.
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.