“This is not a place where we are allowed to go,” Ith said, and gave Urruah a look that to Rhiow seemed slightly peculiar.
“Oh, really?” Urruah said. “Then what were you doing up there?”
Ith paced along, his tail lashing, and made no answer.
Waiting for us, Saash said. A spy, probably.
“I was told to come,” Ith said then.
“Why aren’t you allowed to go up there?” Saash said.
A few more paces, toward the end of a colonnade, where Saash paused and looked through an empty doorway. “The upper levels are only for those on the Great One’s errands to the world above,” Ith said. “Others must stay in the depths until the time is right. It will not be long, we are told.”
Saash threw Rhiow a look on hearing that: Rhiow twitched her tail to one side, a feline shrug. She was noticing that there was always a pause between a question to Ith and its answer. Rhiow found herself wondering whether this was because the creature was having comprehension problems—unlikely, they were working in the Speech—or whether it was simply deciding how it would best tell them as little as possible before it led them to where others of its kind, in greater numbers, could deal with them.
The situation was uncomfortable enough as it was. Rhiow now knew that Saash was right; Ffairh’s map was useless in the present situation. The temptation to withdraw to safer territory above, and try to make another plan, with better intelligence, was very strong—but at the same time Rhiow was sure there was no time for this, that they would probably not make it back up, and even if they did, the only way to get better intelligence would be to keep on going downward, into the heart of this terror. Either Ffairh never got down quite this far, Rhiow thought, or else this whole delving was still completely sealed off from the tunnels and passages he was exploring. Which suggested another nasty possibility: that the saurians had been completely aware of where Ffairh had been doing his exploring, and had purposely avoided breaking through into any area where he might have discovered what was going on down here. Then, during some period when everything was running smoothly and there was no reason to expect an intrusion, the catenaries were relocated…
Wizardry again, Rhiow thought. There’s no other way to do it. Some other wizard, or wizards…
Her head was still going around and around regarding that problem. There were no saurian wizards. Which meant that either a renegade wizard of some other species was involved, maybe more man one; or (horrible concept) even one of the Powers That Be… with strong odds that Rhiow knew which one. The Lone Power did not often reveal Itself openly or work directly: that way It risked failure. But there had been exceptions to the rule, and doubtless would be again…
The idea of renegades itself was controversial enough. Accepted wisdom was that the Lone Power could not “take over” a wizard, or influence him or her directly. But It could certainly try to turn the wizard’s deeds dark in other ways: by trickery, propaganda… or sheer pain. And there were always whispers of wizards who had gone entropic, slowly but willingly going over to the broad, easy, downward path… Rhiow remembered Har’lh’s uneasy look as they discussed it. No one liked to think of the Oath abused—of that power, once given, turned against the Powers bestowing it.
The team walked on, passing down another long stair leading to yet another dimly lit doorway. The way they went, the way they had to go, unsidled, seemed all too exposed to Rhiow, but they had little other option now. At least they had remedied their oversight of scent. Rhiow was still cursing herself inwardly for missing this detaiclass="underline" it could have been fatal to them all.
Except it wasn’t, Saash said to her privately. Something has preserved us this far. You know what Ehef would say about it: this meeting was meant to happen this way…
Ehef’s not here, Rhiow said as they made their way down a long deserted stair. I wish to Iau he were.
Any scent or touch of Har’lh?
Nothing. I just hope this spell’s not interfering…
The spell that Urruah had quickly cobbled together to mask all their scents seemed to be working well enough. Saash had thought it might be worthwhile trying to smell like saurians rather than felines, and working a full shapechange to go with it, but Rhiow had disliked the idea. Besides the possibility of getting the saurian scent wrong and attracting attention that way, it seemed like too much expenditure of energy at a time when they were very likely to need it for something else much more important. So they went in their own shapes, as silently as they knew how, though there was some inward muttering. I can’t smell myself, Saash said, pausing to scratch. It’s like being sidled, but worse…
Please. We’ve got other problems. We’re running blind here: we have no real idea where our little friend is taking us.
I’m not sure we have any alternative but to keep working our way downward and seeing what we feel, Saash said. It’s almost impossible to sense the lesser catenary branches directly, with all this stone between us and them; you have to get close first. And even when you sense them, there’s no way to tell how to get at them. There’s no wall-walking down here, with the interference from the catenaries scattered all around; it’s so fierce you might not even be able to initiate the state, let alone finish a wall-walk once you’d started. One of them, though, I can sense with no trouble. Saash paused to scratch and wash again briefly, then indicated the point of light far down in the chasm. The “River of Fire” down there… that’s the trunk catenary, the main conduit.
Rhiow stared at it. “It can’t be. It was erect, and so were the branches, according to Ffairh’s map! They would have run straight up through the Mountain. And as for it being the River of Fire, the real River—”
“I wouldn’t know about that… except for what Arhu was saying. He said we’d have to cross it… and that certainly looks like one, down there, doesn’t it? … even from way up here you can see the structure, it looks a little wavy…”
Rhiow lashed her tail. The true River of Fire, in the tales of the Fight between Iau and her litter and the Old Serpent, was formed by the Serpent’s poured-out blood: it was the border between life and death, or rather between life and life. The pains and unneeded memories of a cat’s last life were burned away in its crossing… “There’s no way that can be the River,” Rhiow said.
“Rhi, the ceiling of Grand Central—” Saash said.
“It’s backward,” Rhiow snapped, “thank you very much, I know all about it.”
“Is it?” Saash said. “Which direction are you coming at it from?”
Rhiow closed her mouth and thought about that.
Saash gave her a look. “If the ‘Song of the Passing Through the Fire’ does speak of the River, it doesn’t say anything about which angle you come at it from! In space or time! A legend can just as well be founded in the future as in the past.”
“It’s called a ‘prophecy,’ ” Urruah said, with a sideways glance at Arhu. “You may have heard of the concept.”