“I don’t understand,” Maggie said, pulling the yellow robe over her thin nightgown. “These mantles must be expensive.”
“Indeed,” Veriasse said, “but I have been very wealthy for a very long time. And, so, I am free to give you these.”
“You were Semarritte’s husband before the dronon overcame her?” Gallen asked.
“Husband?” Veriasse said. “An odd word, and a very old one, and I was not her husband in the way that you think, though I husbanded her. I nurtured her and protected her as much as any man could, and I made a career of it. Indeed, Gallen, I once thought of myself as being very much like you-a bodyguard, a protector. But I think the dronon have a clearer view of what I am.
“I played the part of Semarritte’s Lord Escort, the Waymaker. Among the dronon, the escorts battle for the right to become the Golden Queen’s personal honor guard. The winner takes the title of Lord Escort. The Lord Escorts from different hives then engage in ritual combat, and the winner’s Golden Queen takes the high throne, making her Lord of the Swarm. Thus her Lord Escort is also called the ‘Waymaker,’ he who secures the path to the throne.
“It was my job to fight Semarritte’s battles when needed, to protect her from other powerful lords. But I could never have been Semarritte’s husband in the sense that you mean. Only her caretaker. Now, I am the Waymaker to her daughter, Everynne.”
“You mean Everynne isn’t your daughter?” Maggie asked.
“Not my biological daughter,” Veriasse answered. “She is a Tharrin, from a race born to rule. I am from less elegant stock. She sometimes calls me father from affection, and I call her daughter perhaps because I raised her as my own. She is, in fact, a duplicate of Semarritte, cloned from her cells.”
As Orick accompanied Maggie to the top of the rise, Veriasse said, “Our magcar can carry all five of us, but I’m afraid that you, Orick, will be easily noticed. We will simply have to take our chances, keep you out of sight. I purchased a cloak to disguise you on our drive to the city of Guianne.”
Orick hugged Gallen and Maggie, and his heart swelled with joy. “My prayers have been answered. You are safe.”
“You should also thank Veriasse,” Gallen said. “The rescue went smoothly because of him.”
Orick wondered at this. It seemed to him that they were in trouble precisely for trying to help Everynne and Veriasse. It was only fit that Veriasse should help them in return.
Yet as he watched Maggie and Gallen, Orick realized that this adventure was not over. It had only begun, yet by Maggie’s pale features, the lines in her haunted face, he could tell that they had already suffered casualties. Gallen, in his mask of lavender starlight, looked as if he were fast becoming a sidhe. Maggie and Gallen would never recover from this trip. And Orick felt cast off, alone. Of them all, only he had had the strength to refuse to accept this world, preferring to suffer the consequences of that decision.
From his last bundle, Veriasse brought out a cloak in colors of forest brown, then began fastening it around Orick’s neck. But the fastener would not let Veriasse stretch the cloak around Orick’s neck completely. Orick was forced to stand for several minutes, and he grumbled at being compelled into an uncomfortable position for so long. Veriasse did not hurry.
Orick looked into Veriasse’s deep blue eyes as the old man worked at the fastener, and saw in them an intensity, a deliberateness that few men carried. Here was a man, Orick decided, who had become a fanatic, a man who could be driven beyond mortal efforts.
Veriasse managed to fasten the cloak, then led them to the magcar and drove south for an hour through a winding mountain pass. In that time, they had to stop at two inspection stations where green-skinned ogres questioned them. Yet after checking the false identification for Maggie and Everynne, the ogres let them pass.
As the magcar climbed over a last mountain, Orick could taste the scent of sea air even before they saw the water beyond. The city of Guianne gleamed white below them, a collection of exotic domes that rested on a sandy beach like broken eggshells from some giant bird. Above the city, people flew lazily in the air currents, clear wings strapped to their backs flashing like giant dragonflies.
It was only as Veriasse descended toward the city that Orick began to realize how large it must be. He drove for five minutes, and though the buildings loomed larger, they were still very far away.
Just as Orick began to get used to the idea of those enormous buildings, the winged people scattered away from one quadrant of the city, then one round building lifted into the air, defying gravity, and continued climbing straight up into the morning until it vanished behind a layer of clouds.
“By Saint Jermaine’s wagging beard, you’ll not get me in one of those buildings!” Orick shouted.
“That isn’t a building,” Maggie said. “It’s a starship. All of the domes are starships.” Orick looked over at Maggie. She wore a strange expression, one of both profound awe and conquest. He had never seen her so happy, so transformed by wonder. “And I know how they work.”
Orick crossed himself to ward off bad luck. He muttered under his breath. “I don’t know why I came here. Nothing good can come of it, as I’ve said all along. You stay right where you belong, Orick. Bears need the woods like birds need sky.”
The car skimmed over the highway, then turned onto one of many branching boulevards. When they neared the city, the egg-shaped ships loomed above them. Beneath the ships was a sprawling conglomeration of tunnels and passages that seemed to wind about in meandering patterns like veins in a leaf.
Veriasse pulled up to one huge tunnel-like opening and passed under an arch. The presence of the dronon vanquishers was heavier here than it had been in Toohkansay. A dozen vanquishers manned an outpost at the gate, brandishing oversized incendiary rifles. Veriasse stopped to give his identification.
The vanquishers let the car pass. Veriasse drove down a broad boulevard beneath the covered city, a vast arching tunnel whose ceiling could not have been less than three hundred feet high. Everywhere along the sides of the street were shops with exotic displays. The scent of foods unfamiliar to Orick wafted through the tunnel. Smaller side passages led off to living areas and uncovered parkways. Veriasse drove slowly, for many pedestrians and other vehicles also negotiated the great boulevard. A dozen times, Orick was tempted to ask Veriasse to stop so that he could tryout some pastry or other dish sold by vendors, but the old man kept driving for nearly an hour, heading down at a slight angle.
It was getting darker. Orick glanced up at the huge skylights, saw that they had descended below the ocean. Schools of fish swam in the green waters above them.
Far from the gates of the city, Veriasse halted the car in front of a building whose strange facade attracted Orick. The building displayed no markings to explain its purpose to passersby. Lampposts in front had glow globes attached, but the muted lights gave the place a somber appearance. To heighten the solemn atmosphere, Orick saw that there were no businesses nearby for hundreds of yards. The building was silent. A few people hurried in, some away, but all of them kept their heads low, as if to hide their identities. The building’s facade showed in bas-relief an image of a woman standing with arms outstretched. Behind her glittered a field of gold stars. The handiwork was astonishing, beautiful, but something more attracted Orick: the woman herself.
“Hey, that’s a picture of Everynne,” Orick said.
“Shhh,” Veriasse muttered. “It’s not Everynne. That is an image of Semarritte, Everynne’s mother, who was once our great judge. This is her tomb.”
Now Orick understood why the place was so quiet, so solemn.
“Why are the lights so low?” Everynne asked. “It looks as if the building is closed.” Indeed, beside the doors were two burly vanquishers, watching the entrance like ogres.