Foster, Dean - Spellsinger 02 - The Hour of the Gate

Once a dull thump sounded from behind a large ova:

structure. Jon-Tom swore it sounded like an exploding shell

For an awful moment he thought it was the result of Eejakrat'a

unknown magic and that the Plated Folk had learned the ust

of gunpowder. His companions, however, assured him it wa?

only a distant rumble of thunder.

Buildings rose still higher around them. They were matched

by roads that widened to accommodate the increased traffic

Weaving ribbons of densely populated concrete and rock rose

six and seven stories above the streets, hives of frenetii

activity devoted now to destruction and death.

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 square-

paved with triangular slabs of gray, black, purple, and blu"

stone. Across this expansive parade ground, populated no\v

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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 exclusiveness. The

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Alan Dean Foster

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 forebod-

ing. Here at least Jen-Tom had expected some hint of bright-

ness. 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

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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.

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 Eejakrat's influence.

I've no doubt he has placed alarm spells all about the palace.

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They would react to my magicking, but not to your words.

We must get inside. I suggest you employ your talent for

extemporaneous and convincing conversation."

"I don't know, sir," replied the rabbit uncertainly. "It's

easy to convince people you're familiar with. I don't know

how to talk to these."

"Nonsense. You did well with that curious woodcutter

whom we encountered during our descent. If anything, the

minds you are about to deal with are simpler than those you

are more familiar with. Consider their society, which rewards

conformity while condemning individuality."

"If you want me to, sir, I'll give it a try."

"Good. The rest of you form behind us. Pog, you stay

airborne and warn us if there is sudden movement from armed

troops in our direction."

"What does it matter?" said the sorrowful bat from inside

his disguise. "We'll all be dead inside an hour anyway." But

he spiraled higher and did as he was told, keeping a watchful