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Sleep was in snatches and seconds that night. Clothahump woke them to
a soggy sunrise.
Ahead in the morning mist-light lay a great open squarepaved with
triangular slabs of gray, black, purple, and blu" stone. Across this expansive
parade ground, populated now only by early risers, rose a circular pyramid. It
consisted of concentric ring shapes like enormous tires. These tapered to a
smooth spire hundreds of feet high that pierced the mist like a gray needle.
Half a dozen smaller copies of the central structure ringed it at
points equidistant from one another. There was no wall around any of them, nor
for that matter around the main square itself.
Despite this the driver refused to go any further. His determination
was so strong even Clothahump's hypnotic urgings failed to force him and his
wagon onto the triangular paving.
"I have no permit," he said raspily, "to enter the palace grounds.
It would be my death to be found on the sacred square without one."
"This is where we walk again, my friends. Perhaps it is best. I see
only one or two wagons on the square. We do not want to attract attention."
Mudge let himself over the back of the wagon. "Cor, ain't that the
bloody ugliest buildin' you ever saw in your life?"
They abandoned the wagon. Clothahump was last off. He whispered a
few words to the driver. The beetle moved the reins and the wagon swung around
to vanish up the street down which they'd come. Jon-Tom wondered at the excuse
the unfortunate driver would offer when he suddenly returned to full
consciousness at his delivery point after nearly a week of amnesia.
"It seems we need a permit to cross," said Caz appraisingly. "How do
we go about obtaining one?"
Clothahump sounded disapproving. "We need no permit. I have been
observing the pedestrians traversing the square, and none has been stopped or
questioned. It seems that the threat is sufficient to secure the palace's
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exclusiveness. The permit may be required within, but it does not seem vital
for walking the square."
"I hope you're right, sir." The rabbit stepped out onto the paving,
a gangling, thoroughly insectoid shape. Together they moved at an easy pace
toward the massive pyramidal palace.
As Clothahump had surmised, they were not accosted. If anything,
they found the square larger than it first appeared, like a lake that looks
small until one is swimming in its center.
From this central nexus the spokes of Cugluch radiated outward
toward farmland and swamp. The city was far larger than Polastrindu,
especially when one considered that much of it was hidden underground.
Thick mist clung to the crests of the seven towers and completely
obscured the central one. Nowhere did they see a flag, a banner, any splash of
color or gaiety. It was a somber capital, dedicated to a somber purpose.
And the massive palace was especially dark and foreboding. Here at
least Jen-Tom had expected some hint of brightness. Militaristic cultures were
historically fond of pomp and flash. The palace of the Empress, however, was
as dull as the warrens of the citizen-workers. Different in design but not
demeanor, he decided.
The lowest level of the circular pyramid was several stories high.
It was fashioned, as the entire palace complex no doubt was, of close-fitting
stone mortared over with a gray cement or plaster. Water dripped down its
curves to vanish into gutters and drains lining the base. There was a minimum
of windows.
The triangular paving of the square ceased some fifteen yards from
the base of the palace. In its place was a smooth surface of black cement.
That was all; no fence, no hidden alarms, no hedgerows or ditches. But on that
black fifteen yards, which encircled the entire palace, nothing moved save the
stiffly pacing guards.
They formed a solid ring, ten yards from the palace wall, five yards
apart. They marched in slow tread from left to right, keeping the same
distance between them like so many wind-up toys. As near as Jon-Tom could tell
they ringed the entire palace, a moving chain of guards that never stopped.
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At Clothahump's urging they turned southward. The guards never
looked in their direction, though Jon-Tom was willing to wager that if so much
as a foot touched that black cement, the trespasser would suddenly find
himself the object of considerable hostile attention.
Eventually they stood opposite an arched triangular portal cut from
the flank of the palace. The entryway was three stories high. At present its
massive iron gates were thrown wide. A line of armed beetles extended from
either open gate out across the cement to the edge of the paving. The unbroken
ring of encircling guards passed through this intercepting line with
precision. The moving guards never touched any of the stationary ones.
"Now wot, guv'nor?" Mudge whispered to the wizard. "Do we just walk
up t' the nearest bugger an' ask 'im polite-like if the Empress be at 'ome an'
might we 'ave 'is leave t' skip on in t' see the old dear?"
"I have no desire to see her," Clothahump replied. "It is Eejakrat
we are after. Rules survive by relying on the brains of their advisors. Remove
Eejakrat, or at least his magic, and we leave the Empress without the most
important part of her collective mind."
He gazed thoughtfully at Caz. "You have laid claim to a working
knowledge of diplomacy, my boy, and have shown an aptitude for such in the
past. I am reluctant to perform a spell among so many onlookers and so near to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]