The Seeds of Dissolution Page 5

  “I am better at manipulating the physical sides of the Houses of Communication and Power,” Majus Cyrysi volunteered. “The House of Communication holds the Symphony of air, but also those of words and intents. The music that is forming heat transfer is contained in the House of Power, but so are those related to political and societal connections between objects and people.”

  The councilor leaned forward. Her smile was taut, but he could tell she was trying to soothe him. “You’ll learn all this soon. Look up. You don’t want to miss this.”

  The tram jerked around a turn. Sam’s hands were sweaty, but he made himself watch. I want to see it all. He wanted to push through the fear that kept him back, though it would return when the councilor’s work dissipated.

  Massive columns rose through the city, spaced almost at random. The giant cylinders were translucent in the odd light, reflecting, or maybe even producing it. They were lost to sight above, not in fog, or darkness, but simply because he couldn’t see that far. They were miles tall.

  “You are seeing much of the Imperium,” Majus Cyrysi said. He carefully arranged his robe, covering a flash of ankle, pulling his sleeves down so his wrists didn’t show.

  “The Imperium?” Sam tried to keep the tension out of his voice.

  “This city. The oldest in the Nether, and the capital.”

  “There’s more than one city in the Nether?”

  Majus Cyrysi snorted. “Many, boy. Are you thinking columns that big are supporting the area of only one city? Look now, High Imperium is coming up.”

  Sam gaped as the tram rounded another bend. A gigantic dome rose above the rooftops, which were tiled in ornate blue and green and orange slate. These buildings were in straighter lines, the streets wider and cleaner. Motorized vehicles passed under them, along with fancy carriages drawn by two, four, and six-legged animals. Not far away from the dome, a spear-like building rested against a column.

  Sam shifted in his seat, trying to peer around the buildings. Something made a backdrop to the city, but he couldn’t tell what, until the difference in scale clicked in his head.

  Towering above everything were two massive walls. They formed not quite a right angle corner directly behind the dome, shining with the steady permeating light. The columns might reflect the light, but this was where it originated.

  Sam put his hand on the seat in front of him, trying to keep his balance against the vertigo that battered at him.

  “What are those,” he paused, mouth dry, “those walls?” He would have called them cliffs, but they were too smooth, too shiny. The nearest vanished in the distance above, like the columns, and stretched to his left as far as he could see. The intersecting wall did the same in the other direction.

  “They are the edges of the Nether,” the councilor said, her voice soft. “The Imperium was built close to this corner so it would be one of the best-lit cities.”

  Majus Cyrysi pointed to the dome. “That is the Great Assembly, where representatives from all ten species meet, built directly beneath the light of the walls.” The majus shifted his outstretched finger to the spear-like building shooting up higher than anything around it. “That is to be our destination—the Spire of the Maji, where the Council sits. The houses of the maji surround it.”

  The Spire was at least forty stories tall, hugging close to one of the giant columns. Bridges stretched from it to six smaller buildings. Around the column, a wide area was filled with bushes and trees.

  As the tram sped on, open spaces popped through breaks in the buildings, and trees passed beneath, some blue, some red, some with large flowers at their crown. Rooftop gardens boasted flowers, shrubs, and crops. Another group of flying creatures kept pace with the tram for a moment, shrieking as they chased a gliding predator, which tucked long leathery wings and dove into the mass of buildings below.

  It’s beautiful, he thought.

  “Get ready,” the councilor told him. “The Spire is the next stop.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Patterns of Stars

  - The question of the uniformity of the species in the Great Assembly has come up many times among groups of thinkers. There are differences between us, but none so great that the Nether cannot allow communication. Is all life so uniform? Or does the Nether somehow select those who find it?

  From “Ruminations of the Nether,” collected by the Kirian philosopher Yufariti Helbramitus

  The tram opened its doors on a platform directly across from the Spire, several stories in the air. Sam and the maji got off behind two of the fuzzy aliens. Sam swallowed at the wooden threshold. The councilor’s presence pushed him forward, but the layers of cotton had reduced to shreds of silk from the protest, and from travel through the new city. He shook, clutching his watch close to his ear. I can do this. Just have to keep walking.

  “Not much farther,” the councilor whispered. The tram whipped away, trailing a group of the large winged insects. The enormity of the open area weighed on his mind, and he grabbed a banister for support.

  “I’ll be with the Council,” Councilor Ayama told them, fixing first Majus Cyrysi and then Sam with her eyes. “The inside of the House of Communication should feel safer for you.” She strode off to a connecting bridge that arced far above the ground, ending at the Spire.

  “This way,” Majus Cyrysi said, pointing to a ramp that thankfully led down to ground level.

  Keep it together. Almost away from the crowds, the stares of judgment. They had to see him trembling. He wanted to experience everything, but he was barely keeping his hands from shaking. The councilor’s fix was all but gone. Just have to get to the majus’ house. There was safety. He followed the majus into a looping stairway that deposited them between two rows of a sweet-smelling hedge with silky-haired leaves.

  Sam could hear each of his breaths, like a bellows inside his head. Have to do something to keep the panic away. There were too many people here, too many unknowns. They turned a corner, weaving through a maze of bushes and trees. The Spire and its column rose above, and the tops of the six buildings—the houses of the maji—that surrounded it, peeked over the foliage.

  “How do you not get lost in here?” he finally asked, his knuckles white on his watch.

  The Kirian gave him a disturbingly pointy grin. “As always, the answer is: the Nether.” Sam tried to smile back, but the expression slid off his face. The majus must have realized something, and his face became serious, crest neutral. “It is to be an instinct,” he said. “A feeling or guiding sense. With a destination in mind, I am walking in the best direction. It may calm you?” The last question was unsure. Sam thought the majus had no idea how to help his anxiety, but at least he was trying.

  “I see,” Sam muttered. More of this telepathic place invading my mind. He wiped his hands, as if he could wash away the Nether’s influence. Someday, he’d have a story to tell when teaching. If anyone believed him. If he got back.

  “The House of Communication is there.” Majus Cyrysi pointed at a tall rounded building, like a watchtower backlit by the immense wall, sparkling iridescent, that rose above everything. It was not as tall as the Spire, but it was the tallest of the six houses. Sam kept his eyes on the building, trying not to think about the columns, the wall, or the dizzying expanse of the Nether.

  The towering House loomed closer as the majus threaded through hedges, the park-like grounds interspersed with areas for seating. An occasional sculpture would rise up from behind a tree or bush. Some were representations of the alien species Sam had seen on the way, others were abstract. Several generated tinkling music, twisting in a breath of cool wind. Sam’s skin broke out in goosebumps at the chill. How is there weather when the Nether is enclosed? He clutched his watch closer. Enclosed, but still huge, and unknown. Just need to make it inside.

  At last, the tower loomed overhead, carved wooden doors before them. The doorframe, easily twice his height, was painted a bright and sunny yellow. Majus Cyrysi pulle
d on a door handle, and the door swung open silently, soft music rolling out from inside. Each door was as thick as Sam’s forearm was long.

  As his foot crossed the threshold, he let out a long breath. No people to tell me I’m not right. A roof above my head. It was another strange place, but he could see the extents of it, accept it. A staircase wide enough for ten abreast twisted up into the height of the tower, and Sam glanced up before bringing his eyes back to thick rugs that decorated the marble floor. They showed scenes, he assumed, from the homeworlds, each one inhabited by a different species—Methiemum, Kirian, Lobath with their head-tentacles, and so on. Music played from an unknown source, some theme composed around a low reed instrument.

  “The map is downstairs,” Majus Cyrysi said. He threw out a claw-tipped hand to the staircase, which Sam now saw went down and up.

  At least it’s not a long climb.

  “Afterwards, I will take you to my apartment on the top floor to clean up, and we will take one of the bridges to the Spire.” Sam stared back, then pursed his lips and traced the ridges on his watch, secure in his coat pocket. He was getting hot in the temperate atmosphere of the Nether. It was even warmer in the House of Communication. Maybe he could leave the coat in Majus Cyrysi’s apartment. On the top floor.

  Of course that’s where he would choose to live. I haven’t had this much exercise in years.

  Sam followed the Kirian down the staircase, and away from the music playing in the lobby. Thoughts of his house and Aunt Martha rose up from where they had been pushed aside first by the cotton in his head, then by crossing the Imperium, and the crowd of people. He hoped the map showed how Earth was connected to this strange place. The longer it took to get back, the more food would go bad at the house. And other things. Sam stared at the polished wooden railing, sliding under his hand as he went down the steps, trying to keep his breathing even. Between the telepathic semi-sentient Nether, the aliens, his aunt’s death, and his distance from home, he was probably in shock. His stomach gurgled and he suddenly didn’t feel well. Keep it together. He swallowed bile.

  Sam huffed down several more flights, dreading the journey up. The building looked as tall as a small skyscraper. Below, the stairs ended in a gently glowing doorway.

  “Through here,” the majus called as he turned out of sight.

  Sam followed. Glare from the light of the floor partially obscured the room after the darkness of the stairwell. Then his eyes cleared, and his breathing sped up. The room was a cavern, lit by a glow from the uneven floor. It highlighted walls of carved stone, and a vaulted ceiling of marble. Buildings shouldn’t be this large. Sam took a hesitant step in, shading his eyes. It’s just a room. It was big, but this was nothing compared to the Nether. He took another step. This was a part of the house where Origon lived. Part of a home. Safe.

  “Coming?” The majus was halfway across the shining floor, heading to a pedestal in the middle of the room.

  “Just…getting my bearings.” Sam felt the comfortable weight of his pocketwatch. Majus Cyrysi glanced back and his eyes flicked to Sam’s pocket. Calm the breathing. There’s nothing to be scared of here. Sam stomped a foot on the floor. His feet had purchase, as if on dirt or rock, but the surface was like glass shifted into gentle waves and valleys. It glittered with an interior light. “Is this like the columns and walls?” he asked.

  Majus Cyrysi looked down. “This is to be the true floor of the Nether, beneath centuries of buildup.” He gestured up to ground level. “Underneath the layers of dirt, this floor is connecting to the bases of the columns and joins with the walls at the Nether’s extremes.”

  “Why didn’t they smooth it out?” Sam scuffed a small crystal hill.

  The Kirian laughed his breathy laugh. “That is impossible, boy. The substance of the Nether is impervious to any material but itself.”

  “What about your magic?” Sam saw the Kirian wince, the feathers on the top of his head flattening.

  “A majus may hear the Symphony of the Nether, but as physical implements are unable to cut or break it, the melody is so resilient no majus has ever changed it.”

  Sam peered at the floor. It gave him a moment of vertigo, and he braced his footing. The crystal was translucent. Like the distance to the roof outside, there seemed to be no end. He could see facets and reflections, like ice cubes stacked together without end. He pulled his gaze up, blinking. “What’s on the other side?”

  Another laugh. He didn’t think the Kirian was being mean, but the laugh sounded condescending. “That may be a more metaphysical question.”

  “How’s that?”

  “The Nether is not, precisely, existing within the universe,” Majus Cyrysi answered. “It is separate. Many are thinking this is why maji are able to open portals to it before seeing it the first time, when that is impossible with any other location.”

  Sam lifted one foot. He suddenly wanted to be back on the stairs, and took one step back, but didn’t let himself take another. “Not in the universe? Then where are we?”

  “That is why it is metaphysical, is it not?” the majus waved a hand, dismissing the question. “Though we are here for a purpose. I wish to find this world of yours, and the Drain. If you are truly not from Methiem, the starmap may be helping us.”

  “Starmap?” Sam looked around, keeping his eyes off the floor as much as possible. I suppose it has to be a map of stars, doesn’t it? His eyes widened as the thought sunk in. I’ve traveled away from Earth. The last of the film in his mind was shredding away, leaving him vulnerable. His stomach tightened convulsively, and he wiped his hands on his pants, trying not to vomit.

  I’m in space. No. Don’t think about falling. No. Going to die. No. He staggered, looking for something to support him, but the room was empty except for the pedestal in the center, waist high.

  “Come.” Majus Cyrysi went to it, poking at the surface. Sam shuffled his way across the translucent floor, watching the majus’ motions, every muscle tight. As he came nearer, he saw the whole pedestal was wood, carved and ornamented. The majus pressed small inset buttons, each labeled with a number. They looked like ivory, polished to a warm glow. Carefully, Sam placed one hand on a space with no buttons. He didn’t want to push anything that might mess up what the majus was doing. He was nervous enough already.

  The Kirian spared him a glance. Was he disappointed? Maybe I’m supposed to be asking questions.

  “What are you telling it to do?” His voice only shook a little.

  “I am inputting the calculations for the section of space I am wishing to view.” The majus turned a crank and Sam heard a crunch of gears from inside the pedestal. Colors exploded out from the pedestal and he hastily stepped away, eyes wide. The swath of color expanded, passing through him, filling the entire room.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking up and around.

  “It is to be another System, maintained by the House of Potential when more notes are needed.” Majus Cyrysi pushed more buttons and flipped a switch. The colors spun. “Now, can you tell me where you are from?”

  The dizzying cloud coalesced from distinct hues—yellow, orange, blue, green, brown, white—into blobs and swirls. Sam’s balance was thrown off, between the uneven floor and the colors in the air. He staggered, then righted. It’s some sort of information, but what? What does the majus want from me?

  “Where I’m from—?” He turned in a small circle, watching the play of colors against each other. It was like a three-dimensional painting, or a visual interpretation of music.

  “Where you are from. Planet, solar system, anything useful?” Majus Cyrysi jerked his head toward the cloud. His crest was spiky—frustration.

  Sam turned again, watching the colored blobs sink toward each other, moving lazily in an orbit around them. Understanding snapped like a rubber band against his skin. Galaxies of stars, planets around stars, moons around planets. I’m in space, I’m in space. The scale made him rock back. It was too big. Hi
s muscles clenched and he looked away and down, needing to get away from the yawning expanse of open space in which he floated.

  Looking down was a mistake. That’s why the starmap is on the floor of the Nether. The stars reflected—or perhaps extended—through the floor, turning him into a giant, drifting through space. Sam was unmoored, his stomach clamped, and he vomited onto the crystal floor. His breath came in short rasps as his vision narrowed. He curled in a ball and shut his eyes, holding the pocketwatch close to one ear. One breath, one tick. He panted. He couldn’t slow it down. He was falling.

  “—to be the problem? Are you hurt?” The voice came from solar systems away, terrifying in power to reach so far. Sam shivered.

  He felt a claw-like hand grasp his shoulder and try to heave him to his feet. He resisted, pulling in tighter.

  “It’s…too big,” Sam got out through clamped teeth. He was thousands of light years from anything. It’s a model. It can’t hurt me. Focus on what he felt. Three breaths to a tick. Two breaths. One breath.

  “What can I be doing?” The majus sounded apologetic, for once.

  He had to respond. Turn it off. No, then they couldn’t find Earth. His mind whizzed. Think logically. It was a projection. The majus had control of it.

  “Can you make it smaller?” Sam asked, his eyes still closed. There was a rustle of Origon’s robe. He was still in the House of Communication. It was safe for him to be here. He heard the thunk of ivory buttons releasing and gears rotating against each other.

  “It is done.” Sam peeked one eye open, swallowed vomit, and wiped his mouth. The vast field of stars and galaxies had receded to an arc overhead, well above the floor.

  It’s contained, like a big TV screen. Sam pushed against the crystal floor, not looking down. Carefully, he stood up. Breathe deep. Have to find Earth. The pocketwatch was slick in his sweaty hand. He took two steps closer, suppressed a hiccup of anxiety. He pressed his hands together to keep them from shaking, took another long gulp of air.