Yzil supposed he should be outraged to see the servant of an inferior power best a vitan, but despite his honest devotion to Ilxendren, it just wasn’t in him. It was too gratifying to see Shex humiliated.
Tu’ala’keth pivoted back toward Yzil. “Now,” she said, “I will tell you Umberlee’s price. Above the waves, on one of the islands to the southeast, stands a stronghold. You will help me take it. It will be a difficult battle, perhaps the costliest one Exzethlix has ever fought, but profitable as well. The caves are full of treasure, and you can keep most of it.”
Though still shuddering uncontrollably, Shex managed to turn around, face his tormentor, and swim back out into the center of the chamber. “You can’t go to war,” he said, “without the Vitanar’s permission.”
“I couldn’t launch a major campaign against another part of Seros,” Yzil said. “I can lead a raid against air-breathers. Devitans do it all the time.”
Shex glared. He looked as if he were about to blurt out something unforgivable, punishable, but to Yzil’s disappointment, mastered his temper in time. “Devitan… with all respect… it signifies nothing if, by a fluke, this creature momentarily afflicted me. It’s still wrong for you to defer to her and look to her to protect Exzethlix. You know it, I know it, and your people know it.”
Unfortunately, according to an orthodox interpretation of Ilxendren’s creed, he was right. Yzil struggled to think of a convincing rebuttal.
But Tu’ala’keth spoke first: “Vitan, it is no wonder that, even in your deity’s holy place, you could not stand before me, for you are a wretched excuse for a priest. Like mine, your god embodies the chaos that underlies all things, yet you are deaf to the dark powers when they speak through chance eventslike the fortunate chance that brought me here when you need me.”
Yzil bared his fangs. “Don’t you dare presume to preach to a servant of Ilxendren.”
“Then perhaps I can bargain with you. Give me a single night to solve your problem. If I fail, you may indeed kill me, and the devitan will accede to your judgment in all matters pertaining to the defense of the city.”
Shex turned to Yzil. “Will you?” the emissary demanded.
Yzil started to say no, absolutely not, then hesitated. As matters stood, he couldn’t hold on to his position much longer, and the sad truth was he had no idea how to resolve the crisis by himself. Perhaps Ilxendren truly had sent Tu’ala’keth to help him. The ways of the Great Ray were strange and unfathomable, maybe even strange and unfathomable enough to manipulate the priestess of another faith into doing his bidding. In any case, Tu’ala’keth was cunning, and perhaps that made her worth gambling on.
“If the shalarin fails,” he said, “you and I will set forth for Xedras in the morning. I swear it in Ilxendren’s name.”
Shex leered. “Then I’ll see you when the waters brighten.”
‹s› SSSSSSSSS SSS
The vault was another spacious chamber hacked from the living coral. As was the case in most sections of Exzethlix, the curves, angles, and vague implications of big sculpted glyphs had an indefinable wrongness to them. Tu’ala’keth’s head started to ache and her belly, to squirm if she let her gaze linger on certain details for very long.
Like the rest of the ‘chitls’ works, the place had no doors. Though their prehensile tails afforded them a limited capacity to manipulate objects, the rays would have found such contrivances inconvenient, and didn’t even use them to safeguard their most precious possessions. But the symbols incised around the arched entry way should have done the job just as well. When someone spoke the trigger word, they’d generate a barrier of magical force.
But that had proved useless. So, floating at the threshold, Tu’ala’keth scrutinized the inscription, looking for some deficiency that would enable an intruder to breach the ward. Everything appeared to be all right.
Yzil flipped the winglike edges of his body in a gesture denoting impatience, derision, or both. “Every priest in the temple has already inspected that.”
“But I had not.” Gripping the new trident the devitan had given her, an enchanted green claw-coral weapon keener, lighter, and sturdier than the one she’d lost, she swam on into the vault. The devitan followed. The sentries curled themselves smaller and bobbed lower in the water, saluting him.
Small, pale, and soft-looking, in some cases gummed together with slime, the eggs lay heaped in glistening mounds as high as Tu’ala’keth was tall. “I did not realize,” she said, “your race was so prolific.”
“When they hatch,” he said, “the newborns strive to eat one another. The majority die to feed the fiercest and most deserving of life.”
She nodded, pleased to see Umberlee’s spirit manifest in the process, even if the foolish rays didn’t recognize it. “As far as I can tell, you have made no effort to differentiate one egg from another. I take it the parents have no desire to reclaim and rear their particular offspring.”
Yzil scowled. “I don’t even know what it is you’re babbling about. Do you know how to protect the eggs or not?”
“Umberlee will guide me.”
“Then let’s get on with it.”
“As you wish. Send the guards away.”
Yzil hesitated. “Is that wise?”
“They have accomplished nothing so far and could prove a hindrance tonight. You and I will eliminate the threat.”
“Go,” the devitan said. Bodies rippling, the ‘chitls glided from the vault. “Shall I activate the ward?”
“Why? It has proved to be of no use, either.”
“All right, then what are we going to do?”
“I am going to meditate. You will remain quiet, so as not to disturb me, and keep watch.”
“What’s the point of meditating now? I’ve already done that, too, in this very spot, without gaining any insight.”
Tu’ala’keth smiled. “Now you are the one wasting time with needless questions.”
“I’m the ruler here, and I’ve staked everything I possess on your assertions. I demand to know what you think you’re doing.”
“Very well. Consider this: Whatever unseen agent is destroying the eggs, it has to move through the water which surrounds them, and my goddess is empress of the sea. It lies within my power to attune myself to the water in this chamber, to feel through it as if it were an extension of my own skin. If I succeed, I should sense the intruder, no matter what its nature or how stealthily it skulks about.”
“Have you ever attempted this trick before?”
“No. It will require a deeper trance than I have ever entered.”
“Then… never mind. It’s still a good idea. I should have thought of it.”
“You could not do it. Your Ilxendren rules over sea-dwellers, but he is not a deity of the sea, and therein lies the difference. Now be still and let me concentrate.”
When it was clear he meant to hold his tongue, she began. She studied the water around her, trying to perceive the salty fluid itself, not the objects it contained. She tried to hear it murmur over surfaces, and feel its warmth and sliding pressure against her skin.
Once she’d fixed her mind on her impressions, she brought the membranes slipping across her eyes, blinding her to all but the brightest lights and most prominent shapes. Simply by focusing her attention inward, she dulled her remaining senses. Yet at the same time, she kept her preexisting sensations as vivid as before. Now, however, they rose primarily from memory and imagination. They were a concept of water, a mental construct to manipulate as she saw fit.
With a clear sky high overhead, and tamed by the countless barriers comprising Exzethlix, the waters therein were placid and so, too, was the simulacrum Tu’ala’keth had conjured for herself. That was the first element she had to change. She imagined insistent currents shoving her, increasing their strength by degrees until she would have had to swim vigorously to hold herself in the same position. She understood she wasn’t truly moving. The sensation was an illusion, a trick she was playing on herself. Yet in a mystical sense, it was altogether real.