“Think about the Dasheter.” he said. “Do you remember the doorways?”
“They had nice scenes carved into them,” said Delplas.
“Yes, yes. But they also didn’t go all the way to the floor, I’m sure. There was a lip, a handspan or greater in height, that you had to step over at each doorway.”
“Now that you mention it, I do remember that.”
“It was to keep water from sloshing from compartment to compartment,” said Toroca. “As Var-Keenir once said to me, all ships leak.”
Delplas nodded in understanding. “But here the doorways go right to the floor, and in most cases there are no actual doors at all, just open archways.”
“Exactly,” said Toroca. “Whatever this thing was used for, it wasn’t a sailing ship.”
“But it can’t have been a building, either. It has a rounded floor. I mean, here, inside, the floors are flat, but the bottom of the—of the hull, call it—the bottom of the hull, as seen from outside, is rounded.”
“Yes. And no one would build an edifice that didn’t have a flat bottom.”
“So it is a ship,” said Delplas.
“Perhaps.”
“But not a sailing ship.”
“No, not a sailing ship.”
“Then what kind of ship is it?”
“I don’t—”
“Toroca!”
The shout came from deep in the interior of the structure. Toroca broke into a dead run, Delplas following. His lantern made mad shadows run along with them as they bounded down the strange, straight corridors.
“Toroca!” went the shout again, echoing off the hard blue walls.
Ahead, Gan-Spalton was standing by an open doorway. “It had been closed,” he said, pointing. “One of the few I’ve seen that really had a door. I operated the latch, and—”
The corpse was desiccated. If it had been at one time covered with skin, that skin was long since gone. The body was about the same bulk as Toroca, but that was the only characteristic they had in common. The dome-shaped head had five eyes. A long trunk dangled from the face. It ended in a pair of convex, shell-shaped manipulators, each with six little fingers within, just right for handling the strange artifact Toroca had found all those days ago.
The body was slumped over, a bowl-shaped structure visible beneath it that might have been a chair. The creature’s torso was made up of a series of disks, shining like opals in the torchlight. At the end of the torso was a cup-shaped brace supporting three pairs of legs. The first pair was long, the second and third pairs much shorter, and looked as though they wouldn’t have reached the ground if the creature had been standing.
Toroca staggered back on his tail. What manner of creature was this? It was unlike a Quintaglio, or anything else he was familiar with. Even the bizarre lifeforms of the south pole had shared a fundamental body plan that he recognized, but this, this was like nothing he’d ever seen before, nothing he’d even imagined before.
And then it hit him, and his jaw dropped.
This ship, this giant blue vessel, must have traveled very far indeed.
*41*
Two down, four to go.
Perhaps I should have done Toroca when I last saw him. It will be a long time before he returns to the Capital, I’m sure. Still, the fact that he is away so much of the time makes his existence tolerable… to a degree. Absence makes the heart grow calmer.
That mass dagamant was a release for me, and for many others, I’m sure. Perhaps I’ll wait awhile until I do number three.
Or perhaps not.
After the collective dagamant, Cadool searched and searched for Afsan. At last he found him, disoriented, unsure of where he was, slumped in an alley beside a building, exhausted, bruised, bloodied, but not severely injured.
They retired to Rockscape for three days, recovering, and waiting for Gathgol, now the busiest of all workers in the province, to collect all the bodies that littered the streets.
But, at last, Afsan and Cadool came back into the city to deal with the task at hand.
“Let’s rest here,” said Cadool. They’d been walking all afternoon, going from one side of the Capital to the other, the streets still a mess, blood splatters on the paving stones and adobe walls, broken tree branches and discarded sashes skittering along the avenues, propelled by the wind.
Here, in a small plaza, a marble likeness of the astrologer Tak-Saleed had been erected. Unlike many of the monuments in the Capital, this one was still standing despite the riots. Cadool helped Afsan find a seat on a bench, sitting him in the shadow of the statue.
“There is no sign that bloodpriest Maliden is in Capital City,” said Cadool, easing himself onto another bench. “Dy-Dybo’s guards have searched everywhere.”
Afsan nodded. “I always thought that was a long shot. Maliden would do well to be on the run; he’d be a fool to have remained here.”
“Indeed.”
“And Rodlox is telling the truth when he says he didn’t do it.”
“I’ve not heard such invective in my whole life,” said Afsan. “He took great offense that we should even ask.”
“But he did not commit the murders.”
“No.”
“It’s difficult to really fathom a motive for Dy-Dybo’s other siblings,” said Cadool. “Even so, only Dedprod and Spenress were already in town at the time of the first murder, and neither of them did it.”
“That’s right, neither of them.”
“So that excuses all members of The Family.”
“Yes.”
“But not all members of your family.”
Afsan’s tail swished. “No.”
“Toroca was away on his Antarctic voyage during the first murder,” said Cadool.
Afsan nodded. “It pleases me that I didn’t have to speak to him about this.”
“And your daughter Dynax, although from Chu’toolar, where the mirror was made, told us the truth when asked if she was involved.”
“Yes.”
“Kelboon and hunt leader Galpook told us the truth, too; they’re innocent,” said Cadool, holding up a hand, ticking off fingers.
“A process of elimination,” said Afsan.
“Yes,” said Cadool. “Both what we’re doing, and, in a way, what he is doing.” There was no clicking of teeth accompanying the words.
“It was distasteful asking those questions of people I know,” said Afsan.
“They will forgive you.”
“I suppose.”
“There’s no doubt who the murderer is,” said Cadool.
Afsan spoke quickly. “There’s little doubt, yes. But until I confront him, I will assume his innocence.”
“As you wish.” Cadool paused. “Does it hurt?”
“What? Losing two children? Or being about to lose a third? In any event, yes, it hurts.”
“I’ll never know what it’s like to have a family,” said Cadool softly.
“Apparently,” said Afsan, “different individuals react in different ways to the concept.”
Cadool nodded. “Apparently.”
They were quiet for a time, Cadool knowing that Afsan was composing himself, preparing for what must come. At last Afsan said, “Let’s go.”
“To see him?”
“’Not yet. We must go to my office in the palace first. There are some things I need. And we should have an escort, I think.”
They got to their feet and walked toward the setting sun.
It turned out that the part of the ship they’d been exploring wasn’t the major part at all. Only a tiny fraction of the ship’s bulk had been exposed by blasting away a portion of the cliff face. Much, much more of it was still buried in the rock. To get to the other section, one had to pass through another one of those rooms with doors at either end.