There were not many of them. I counted thirteen, although I feared more might still be arriving. Along with those weapons, they might have stolen their masters’ deathly manner. I had never seen such raw loathing and fearlessness in the face of any geneslave. Indeed, they might have sucked away my own courage. For as my suspicions regarding this murderous rebellion grew, so did a part of me that I had thought died in the Engulfed Cathedral. That will to life, which looks into the abyss and sickens, refusing to acknowledge the notion that there can be an end to humanity as there has been to so many other things in our world. But it was this same will that empowered me to parry with the rebels.
“I answer to no one, man or energumen. You may tell General Metatron that. Leave us now.”
Kalaman hissed softly between his pointed teeth. He glanced at the one beside him, the one he had named Ratnayaka, and it seemed that a faint apprehension tugged at his eyes. Then he looked at Kalamat standing in front of us. He said, “Are you trafficking with Tyrants now, sister? Is that why you would not heed me when I called you?”
“Any fool can see he is not a human,” Kalamat replied coolly.
“I did not say he was a human, sister. I said he was a Tyrant. ” Kalaman’s eyes flashed. I thought he would strike her, but then his brother Ratnayaka spoke.
“You will come with us, Tast’annin,” he said in that sweet high voice they all shared. He smiled, shaking his head, and the little gold rings made a faraway sound, like rain pattering on a dry shore. “And my sister, and—”
He looked from Captain Novus to Nefertity, and then turned to Kalaman, puzzled. “They have a construct, my brother—did you know of this?”
Kalaman frowned, drew his sword to his face, and stroked his cheek with the flattened side of the blade. “Is that your replicant?” he asked.
I felt a sudden surge of elation. Their Oracle had told them they would find me here, but it seemed that Metatron as yet knew nothing of Nefertity.
“It is,” I replied cautiously. “And this is my aide-decamp, Captain Novus.”
Kalaman continued to stare broodingly at Nefertity. I waited for him to remark on how much she looked like Metatron, but he only muttered, “Yes. Yes, the Oracle told me you were accompanied by two others. But enough!—
“Do you come willingly, or—”
He raised his hand. Several of his brothers surged forward, weapons ready. I glanced at Valeska and Nefertity. Both stared watchfully at Kalaman and his troops. If Novus felt any fear, the energumens would never see it.
But they would kill her as soon as look at her, I knew that; might well end up doing so. I would not have her die defending me, especially as it seemed we had no recourse but to surrender.
“We will go with you,” I said at last, “but not as hostages. No bonds, and we stay together. Else we will all die here.”
I waited, half-expecting Kalaman to order his brothers to turn fire upon us, but he only shrugged.
“As you wish, Imperator.” Like a child, he seemed already tired of this play. He turned to Kalamat, tipping his head to one side and gazing at her with intent black eyes.
“What of us, then, O my brother Kalaman?” she asked, her head raised as she towered above me.
“What indeed?” he countered, and smiled. “It is a small envoy you have sent to greet us. I have not seen our sisters yet. Where are they?”
Kalamat regarded him coldly: like Cruelty and Spite staring at each other across the room. Finally she said, “Waiting. They are waiting. Does your Oracle intend to make soldiers of us?”
Kalaman looked at Ratnayaka. “Soldiers? Yes, I believe we will all be soldiers. The elÿon is bound for Cassandra. From there I do not know where we will go; but Metatron has hinted to me of a special journey that we chosen ones will make.”
“No!” Kalamat cried. “I will not go! I have only a few days left before my death finds me. I will see our father in Cassandra, or else I will remain here.”
Again Kalaman only shrugged. “As you will.”
But at his side Ratnayaka narrowed his single eye and gazed shrewdly at Kalamat. He said, “Metatron will decide who lives and dies, and where they will do so. You had best tell your sisters to gather their things, Kalamat. Our elÿon has an adjutant who is also scheduled to die quite soon.” He grinned, showing pointed white teeth, and added, “Your brothers will grow hungry if we wait too long.”
Kalaman hissed something at him. Ratnayaka dipped his head in a show of obeisance, then reached out and grabbed his brother’s arm, pulled Kalaman until his face was inches from Ratnayaka’s own.
“Dearest brother,” he murmured, and kissed Kalaman on the mouth. Without another word he pushed him away, turned, and marched back through the ranks of waiting energumens. Kalaman watched him broodingly, then darted a glance at me, frowning as he fingered the hilt of his sword. Finally he strode across the hall to follow his brothers.
“You can’t mean to go with them, Imperator!” Valeska Novus cried when they were out of sight.
“We have no choice,” I said. “They would have killed you and dismantled Nefertity, and destroyed me as I tried to defend you both.”
I turned to Kalamat. “You will go with us? To Metatron?”
“To my father. I care nothing for this Oracle, and less than that for my brothers.” She spat and lay her hand upon her scarred breast, and looked over at Nefertity. “And you, Mother? Will you walk with me? I would like to speak with you and learn how it is you know the hymn to our Mother—and other things too. I would ask you of this Oracle called Metatron, which is as like to you as I am like my sisters—”
“Of course. We will walk together now, and talk,” Nefertity said, holding out her gleaming hands toward the energumen. Kalamat took them and for a moment they stood there, the smaller shimmering figure of the nemosyne in the monster’s shadow.
Then, “I will get my sisters,” Kalamat said. Nefertity nodded. Together they walked back down the corridor toward the center of Quirinus. Valeska Novus and I watched them go. Then we turned and strode down the long hallway that had swallowed Kalaman and his brothers, to board the Izanagi and join Lascar Franschii on his final voyage.
13
Icarus Descending
SOME TIME AFTER DR . Burdock and the replicant Metatron had disappeared, a young man named Edward Dean entered the chamber where Jane and I sat anxiously eyeing the energumens and aardmen. “I’ll show you to your quarters,” he said, beckoning us to follow him over the waterfall bridge.
“You’re the first person we’ve seen here, except for Dr. Burdock,” Jane said as we followed him through a wide, downward-leading tunnel. Edward Dean looked at her, puzzled.
“But there are people everywhere.” He was small and wiry, with short curling reddish hair and the same drawling voice as Trevor and Cadence Mallory. “I saw you with them—Suniata, and those others back in Dr. Burdock’s office.”
Jane shook her head. “I meant people— human people—”
Edward stopped, his gingery eyebrows raised in surprise and, I realized, embarrassment on Jane’s behalf. He lowered his voice, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else had heard.
“Oh, but those are people, Jane,” he said with great earnestness. “Everyone here is treated just exactly the same. That’s the whole meaning of the Alliance: no more slaves. Everyone is treated the same, ” he ended firmly.
“Except for human prisoners like us, I expect,” said Jane.
Edward shrugged, pulling at the frayed collar of his blue uniform. “I don’t expect you’re actually prisoners. I mean, you’re members of the Alliance, aren’t you?” When we said nothing, he read it as agreement. “Well, then, you’re not prisoners—you’re rebels,” he finished, and walked on.