[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

to the plasm junction, welding it into the neutral position.
If there are combat mages in the plasm station, Aiah thinks, we could be dead
any second.
Sweat drips from her brow. The room, with its steel-and-concrete walls
surrounding the welding torch, suddenly seems close and hot.
 Our mages have launched their attack, Ethemark says. The soldiers are
accelerating and should be at the station soon.
Plasm stations are notoriously designed with insurrection or war in mind.
They are heavily armored, and covered with a bronze collection web designed to
absorb plasm attacks, disperse them over the web, and then draw the plasm into
the station's own stores. The chief way to attack such a station is to throw
heavy things at it usually armor-piercing shells, but in a pinch big rocks
will do until the defenses are breached and telepresent mages can enter on a
raging wave of plasm to sweep away opposition.
Aiah counts the drops of sweat that fall from her chin onto the scarred steel
floor. Thirty-one, thirty-two ... At last Davath finishes his work. He
stands, pulls his goggles down around his thick neck. "Done. Let's go.
They leave the tiny compartment on a run. "One last thing," Prestley says.
"Turn on your torches." He goes to the generator room next door and throws a
switch the cage-enclosed lights die with a whimper.
Aiah leads the other two upward at a run, taking the grid-ded metal steps two
at a time. Slamming and locking a steel door behind them, they emerge into a
corridor filled with anxious civilians. Poor people live here, in lightless
compartments below the waterline, with wealthier residents in the airy flats
above.
"What's going on?" people ask. "What's happening?
"Listen to Hilthi on the radio," Aiah gasps, breath almost gone. "Do what he
says.
They jog up another stair, then turn onto a gangway that leads to an outside
door. Plastic flooring booms under their feet. Shieldlight gleams through
the door.
They burst out onto another gangway, this one webbed by chain-link. Their
boat awaits, moored to a pier at the bottom, engines idling. As the crewmen
see the party running, the engines roar into life.
There is a concussion, a flat slap that strikes painfully at the ears. An
explosion at the plasm station.
Aiah leaps into the boat, throws herself gasping into a padded chair. "Go,"
she says.
Another explosion shocks the air, and the boat throttles up, standing on its
wake as it races away.
TRIUMVIR HILTHI CALLS FOR POPULAR UPRISING!"DESTROY THE REBELS WHO WOULD
ENSLAVE YOU!
Aiah's four teams rendezvous at a Dalavan temple Con-stantine's people had
given them the address. The place is a strange blocky building, the facade a
structure made up entirely of pillars, pillars built around and next to and on
top of each other, like a double handful of pencils. They are bright red or
yellow, and each is topped with a little bell-shaped dome. Gateways are cut
through the pillars, their curving arches carved with a wild variety of
threatening monsters, all painted in lifelike colors. Ascetics hang from the
building in sacks, and some, it appears, have been dead for some time dead in
a holy cause, they are allowed to hang there until they rot, inspiration for
the faithful.
The temple priests provide them with a hot meal and an office in which Aiah
can spread out maps and plan the assault on Xurcal Station. On the wall, an
oval screen shows Triumvir Parq speaking on the Dalavans' video link. Parq
has donned the ebony-and-gold Mask of Awe worn when speaking as the official
head of the Dalavan faith, and his magnificent voice booms from the mask in a
tireless call to strife and battle. Where formerly Aiah had heard only the
silky tones of the politician and born seducer, now she hears the ringing
voice of a commander calling on his troops. She is struck with admiration for
his verbal skill at the same time as she is chilled by its effect.
"I declare the rebels to be the enemies of the Supreme One Dalavos and his
people!" he cries. "Their secret purpose, a conspiracy plotted in the very
pits of Hell, is to destroy both our state and our faith. The wickedness of
the Avians was as nothing compared with the evil of these rebels, for the
Avians were deformed in body and spirit while these appear as normal men, even
if their souls are twisted.
He takes a breath. Eyes glitter, red and silver, from the depths of the mask.
"All those faithful to Dalavos and his teachings must resist them to the
utmost of their power," he proclaims. "Ambush their patrols! Shoot them down
from hiding! Steal their plasm!" His fists clench, pounding the air like
hammers as they beat time to his thoughts. "I declare, as the supreme leader
of the faithful, that those who, having heard my word, continue the obstinate
fight for the rebel cause are condemned as traitors to Heaven. Never shall
they be accepted in our temples! Never shall they be seen among us! Never
shall they share our food or taste our drink! Never shall they take the least
shelter from us! I curse them!
Aiah shivers, tries to focus on her map. Parq's voice drops and he speaks
rhythmically as he begins an incantation. The camera closes in on his face,
on the eyes like embers lying in the mask, the lips of flesh writhing behind
the frozen lips of ebony.
"Curst be their hearts, for their hearts are filled with evil. Curst be their
minds, for their minds are the dwelling place of rebellion. Curst be their
feet, for their feet bear them on the road to Hell. Curst be their throats,
for the words in their throats are the wicked lies of demons and the
undead....
Aiah is having a hard time concentrating on her maps.
"I don't suppose," she ventures, "it might be possible to lower the volume?
Surely before he gets to the spleen, she thinks, but she doesn't know how
devout any in her party might be, and she dares not say it aloud.
Davath approaches the video and snaps it off. The picture vanishes, shrinks [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]