'First, 'Rann started, 'the strengths and weaknesses of our enemies. They have Istu, of course. But even the Demon of the Dark Ones has his limitations. According to the lore – and it's unanimous on this subject – Istu is in some way linked to the City itself. He's a creature of the Void, of the nothingness between suns. This world's as much a hostile environment to him as the bottom of the sea would be to us. The historical evidence indicates that he is most powerful when he is physically present in the City. Apparently, that was one reason Felarod bound him there; so strong are the forces binding him and the Sky City together that they might have drawn him forth from another prison, no matter what spells Felarod devised to hold him.
'The City itself provides severe limitations, at least to his movement. It is no longer constrained to follow the Quincunx. However, neither in the past nor in the days since Istu was freed has it ever been observed to go faster than the mile-an-hour pace it has maintained throughout the centuries. It may be able to go faster. It's safe to assume that speeding it up would tax even Istu's powers.'
He steepled his fingers in front of his lips. Even Synalon listened now, with only a trace of contempt lingering on her face.
'Now, as to the People. Their population is limited, and even given that they put whole generations into hibernation to await this moment, they still must number vastly fewer than us. They do not work well at night. As Fost's friend Oracle discovered in old writings, the caste differences among the Hissers are more than social; it takes more gestation time and special nourishment for a mother to produce a noble Zr'gsz. Thus the lower caste ones are more numerous and are physically and mentally inferior to the higher orders. You can thank that fact for your present survival, Longstrider. The common Hissers at the March just didn't know how to deal with your one-man charge.' 'I know,' Fost said glumly.
'Thanks to the Watchers, the skystone mines are in disorder, and the Hissers' military might depends on their air power as heavily as did ours. Also, the Hissers have a severe disadvantage in terms of experience. Even among the Children of Expectation there can be few seasoned officers. They simply haven't fought any wars since Riomar shai-Gallri cast them from the Sky City, and really none since the War of Powers. So, though some of them like this Zak'zar may be shrewd, we still have a considerable edge in skill.'
'You make it sound as if they were at the point of being whipped all the way back to Thendrun,' Erimenes complained.
'Not at all, demon. Our forces, such as they are, are scattered throughout the lower half of the Realm. We have concentrations in Brev and Bilsinx, but let the Sky City appear over them and they fall just as Kara-Est did. Wirix is perhaps fallen; none has heard from them, either by messenger or magical communication, in over two weeks. We must assume the worst in this instance. The Dwarves of North Keep and the Nevrym foresters have made an open alliance with the Zr'gsz; and the Empire has rotted like a melon, from the inside out. Only at its peak long ago would the Imperial Army have counted for more than a moment's annoyance to the Hissers. It's victory at the Black March was almost totally illusory. No, friend
Erimenes, even if the Fallen Ones lacked the aid of Istu we would still be like the drunk who fell in a cesspit. We'd be forced to stand on tiptoe to keep our noses out of the shit.'
A nervous look passed among the listeners. Rann seldom used such earthy expression.
'What good does all this talk of military matters do?' demanded Synalon. 'They have Istu; we have myself. And my sister, of course. What more needs to be discussed?'
'We are faced with two problems, cousin. The magical one posed by Istu, and whatever wizards the Hissers have. And the military threat of the Vridzish armies. We ignore either at our peril. I grant, if we undo Istu we win. But to do that we'll have to buy time. For that we'll need armies to keep their soldiers off our necks.'
'Very well,' said Moriana. 'But our efforts need direction. Where do we seek the means of defeating Istu?'
'Athalau,' Fost said, and was immediately sorry. Both sisters turned to stare at him. 'That's our one and only lead. It was Athalar magic that broke Istu before. My knowledge of these things is limited, but nothing I've seen so much as hints at an answer elsewhere.'
The others all began speaking at once, arguing, expostulating, objecting.
'Enough!' shouted Synalon after a few minutes. 'The groundling's right. It turns my stomach to walk a path trod by Felarod, but the Dark Ones have proven no true friends. If nothing else we know where the means of defeating Istu once lay. Isn't that the best place to search now?' Erimenes muttered something about Reductionism.
'Aren't you forgetting something?' Rann asked. All looked at him. 'Felarod didn't defeat Istu alone. He needed a hundred Athalar savants. They weren't just trained but were specially bred to their talents. Where can we find their like today?'
And Fost put back his head and laughed the roaring wild laughter of the mad. Where, indeed?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Everyone looked at Fost. He teetered on the brink of hysteria, caught himself and drew back from it. 'I'm all right,' he said. 'I'm not crazy – not yet, anyway.' "Will you share this rare jest with us?' Synalon asked disdainfully.
'I know where the survivors of Felarod's Hundred went, and where to find their descendants. Yes, you do, too, you treacherous blue wisp, so don't try to look innocent.'
Moriana looked from Fost to Erimenes, who was twiddling his thumbs and gazing at the skylight overhead. 'I know, too,' she said quietly. 'The Ethereals.' Erimenes made a face.
'You mean the folk who live by the Great Crater Lake north of the Ramparts?' asked Ziore.
'What's everyone talking about?' Synalon asked pettishly. 'I'm sure I have no idea.'
'Yes, you do, cousin dear,' Rann said. 'I paid a visit to the Ethereals while pursuing your sister and Longstrider after they escaped from the Sky City. A group of ascetics who live in the mists surrounding the lake. Totally divorced from reality.' He spoke in a bantering tone, but with a small hint of respect. 'Do you think I pay attention to such trivial details?'
'Had you paid more mind to them, you might not be sitting here.' Synalon's lip curled in a snarl. The tang of ozone filled the room.
'But what do the Ethereals have to do with Felarod's Hundred?' asked Ziore, easing some of the mounting tension with her question.
'The quality of education,' Erimenes said, shaking his head sadly, 'must have declined in the years following my death.' He tugged thoughtfully at his chin. 'But then, it's only to be expected. After me, Athalau's intellectual progress could only take a downward turn.'
'It all happened ten thousand years ago, Erimenes,' Fost pointed out. 'It wasn't considered a necessary part of the curriculum where Ziore spent her life. Your teachings never addressed the War of Powers, as I recall.' Erimenes turned his attention back to the skylight. The fact that Ziore had spent her physical life in a convent devoted to the abstemious tenets laid down by Erimenes the Ethical before his own death still produced friction between the genies.
'In answer to your question, Ziore,' continued Fost, 'I assume you do know the broad outlines of the legend, how Felarod needed the help of a hundred specially trained savants to summon the World Spirit and defeat Istu and the Hissers. You've probably also heard that ninety of the Hundred died from contact with such sheer power. And that the ten survivors were so horrified at the cosmic destruction they had helped wreak that they left Athalau, vowing to keep themselves isolated from humankind and magic'