“It’s so tall,” Nisa said, craning her neck to look up at a particularly high and twisty spire. The lower terraces, which began a hundred meters above the water, were strung with tiny green and blue pinlights. From these terraces a festive murmur drifted down, composed of an odd staccato music, laughter, and occasional screams of delight. Apparently a celebration was in progress, or perhaps the dwellers in this particular seastack sold entertainment.
Ruiz felt a stab of envy for the celebrants, and more than a little pity for himself. He contrasted his sad little group with the apparently carefree people above. The comparison made Ruiz’s situation seem even more intensely unfair.
To distract himself, he began to tell Nisa about SeaStack. “It’s even bigger than it looks — SeaStack is. Most of its habitats are below sea level — many of the folk who live in SeaStack have never seen the sun.”
Dolmaero spoke up. “So you’ve been here, Ruiz? How much do you know about it? Do you have friends here, or allies?”
Ruiz laughed. “No one knows very much about SeaStack, not even those who live here. I may have met a few locals, one time or another, but even if we were free to seek them out, we might not find them. And if we did, they’d have no reason to help us.” There were doubtless a number of League agents in SeaStack, he thought, but they would be in extremely deep cover, impossible to contact. The great pirate lords who controlled SeaStack were the League’s bitterest enemies; any League agent who fell into their merciless hands could expect a miserable death at best.
He could think of only one person in SeaStack who might be persuaded to assist them, but Ruiz was reluctant to consider that possibility. That individual was hardly a friend, and he would be an ally only if his circumstances required such an alliance, or if Ruiz could force him to help.
Ruiz began to regret his openness with the Pharaohans. Were one of them to tell the wrong person all about Ruiz Aw, serious difficulties might arise. He’d had his attack of candor at a moment when he’d been almost certain that he wouldn’t survive another day; still, he’d been ludicrously incautious.
“So,” Dolmaero said. “You still have no idea who the barges belong to? Or what they want with us?”
Ruiz shrugged.
“I have a feeling it’s nothing too terrible,” said Nisa, surprisingly. Indeed, in the semidarkness, her face seemed unclouded by fear or uncertainty, and Ruiz wished he could be so optimistic.
Dolmaero shook his head doubtfully. “Has anything happened to us on this world that is not terrible?”
“Oh, yes,” answered Nisa.
“What?” asked Dolmaero in a challenging voice.
“Hot muffins,” said Molnekh, showing his large teeth in a grin.
“My resurrection,” said Nisa. “And there have been other nice happenings.” She looked meaningfully at Ruiz, and he felt his heart quiver pleasantly.
Dolmaero grunted noncommittally, but his eyes twinkled, and Ruiz saw that the rigors of the journey hadn’t worn away all of the stout Guildmaster’s good humor.
“I can tell you a little more about SeaStack,” Ruiz offered.
“Please,” said Dolmaero.
“All right. Have you wondered how it was built?”
“Yes.”
“So does everyone else. When humans first arrived on Sook, SeaStack was already here, though inhabited only by animals and a few devolved aliens. The early explorers thought the spires were natural formations, until they found the first doors. The stacks are hollow, for the most part, but divided into millions of levels, corridors, shafts. No one knows how deep they go, but they tell stories of habitats two kilometers or more below sea level.”
“Who made them?” Dolmaero’s eyes were wide with wonder.
“No one knows that either, but I’ve heard several theories. Shall I tell you my favorite? Some say they’re junked starships, stripped and left here before the land subsided, a few million years ago.”
“Whose starships? The Shards?”
Ruiz shrugged. “Unlikely. Their tech level is unremarkable. No one builds starships that big. Maybe they were built by whoever the Shards took Sook from — though that was probably too recent an event.”
No one spoke again for a while, and their faces were somber.
Perhaps, Ruiz thought, the talk of measureless eons had oppressed them. The first time he had visited SeaStack, he’d felt the same diminishment.
The note of the barge’s engines changed subtly. Directly ahead was a narrow gate at the foot of one of the smaller spires. In keeping with the decorative theme of the barges, the gateposts were tall phalli.
When they were a little closer, Ruiz saw that a low relief of intertwined copulating figures swirled around the posts.
Low red lights illuminated the dark water within.
Apparently they had arrived at their destination.
The barges entered a lagoon between steep cliffs of black alloy, drifted to a stop alongside broad metal ledges. The only sound was the scrape of the hulls against the landing, and Ruiz tried to force himself to a higher level of alertness.
Mooring posts rose from the landing with a whine of hidden motors. Toggles extended from the barges and locked to the posts.
In a moment all was still.
“What now?” asked Dolmaero.
Ruiz shook his head. “Who knows? Molnekh, go get Flomel. We should be ready.”
Molnekh nodded and hurried aft.
Ruiz took Nisa’s hand. She squeezed his hand and rested her head against his shoulder.
They waited.
A series of clicks sounded from the alloy wall directly in front of their barge; similar sounds echoed along the landing. With pneumatic sighs, a series of narrow blast doors levered up, one opposite each barge.
Almost immediately, folk began to leave the barges and enter the doors. From the trailing barge came the pretty young couple; from the barge just ahead came the three mismatched vagabonds. From the leading barge came a half-dozen people, cloaked in concealing white gowns.
Ruiz looked at their door. Blue lightstrips revealed a metal corridor, which curved into dimness after ten meters.
“Should we go?” asked Dolmaero hoarsely.
Ruiz studied the moorage. The surrounding vertical walls offered no handholds; they could not climb out. Nor could they swim to freedom. Despite the jocular graffiti at the Edge, no one with any sense swam unprotected in SeaStack’s murky waters. Besides disease, poisons, hazardous currents, submerged machinery — there were the many scavengers that lived on the refuse discarded by SeaStack’s inhabitants. The most terrifying of these were the margars, great armored reptiles big enough to swallow a small boat in one gulp — but there were countless others, ranging in size down to the tiny brainborers that infested the sewage outfalls and waste-heat exchangers.
What would happen if they stayed aboard? Ruiz sighed. He was pessimistic. Probably the barges would be fumigated for vermin — which they might well be considered, if they refused to leave.
“Let’s go,” he said, reluctantly.
They filed off the barge, Ruiz leading. He disengaged his hand reluctantly from Nisa’s — best to be ready to act. Behind her came Molnekh, leading Flomel, who cringed and rolled his eyes. Dolmaero brought up the rear, walking with slow dignity.
Ruiz paused for a moment before entering the doorway, to confirm that no other exits offered escape, then he shook himself and went in.
The corridor curved to the right and descended at a gentle incline. Their steps echoed strangely as they trooped along. After a bit, Ruiz realized that they were following a spiraling path into the roots of the spire.
Other than the blue lightstrips, the corridor was featureless, the floor free of dust, and the walls polished to a high shine. Clean cool air sighed from concealed ventilators; otherwise the silence was complete.