She made to go that way, and he said, Back pay's owing on that one. Six hundred. He grinned like a shark. We were about to clear it out."
Venera opened her bag, letting him see the pistol as she rummaged for the cash. He took it without comment and waved her through the door.
The only thing in the dingy locker was a water-stained file folder. As she stood in the half light, flipping through it, Venera decided it was all she needed. The documents were from the College of Succession at the University of Candesce, two thousand miles away. They included DNA analyses that proved her father was not of the royal line.
She barely saw the tumbled buildings as she left the blockhouse; maybe that's why she got turned around. But suddenly Venera snapped to attention and realized she was in a narrow chute formed by five clapboard structures, on her way down, not up toward the palace. Frowning, she grabbed a handy rope to steady herself and turned to go back the way she'd come.
"Don't. The voice was quiet, and came from above and to the left. Venera flipped over to orient herself to the speaker. In the gray reflected light from shingle and tar paper, she saw a youthperhaps no older than herselfwith tangled red hair and the long bones of someone raised in too little gravity. He smiled toothily at her and said, Bad men coming behind you. Keep going and take your first hard right, and you'll be safe."
She hesitated, and he scowled. Not shittin ya. Get going if you know what's good for you."
Venera flipped again, planted her feet on the rope, and kicked off down the chute. As she reached the corner the boy had indicated, she heard voices coming from the far end of the chuteopposite
feet tall teetered next to a rolled-up mattress.
Odess's first words were addressed to Moss, not Venera. You expect us to accept this this outsider in our midst?"
"Is th-that not what you d-do? Moss had asked. G-go outside? Startled, Venera had sent him a sidelong look. Was there somebody home behind those glazed eyes, after all?
"B-besides, the b-botanist commanded it."
"Oh, God. Odess had put his head in his hands. She thinks she can do anything now."
Any slight deviation from routine or custom threw Odess into a panic. Venera's very presence was upsetting him, though the rest of the delegation had been pathetically happy to meet her. They would have partied till dawn if she hadn't begged off early, pointing out that she had not yet seen the room where she was expected to sleep for the rest of her life.
Eilen, Mistress of Scales and Measures, had shown Venera to a closet just outside the delegation's long, cabinet-lined office. The closet was seven feet on a sideits walls of whitewashed stoneand nearly twelve feet high. There was room for a bed and a small table, and there was no window. You can put your chest under the bed, Eilen said, when you get one. Your clothes you can hang on those pegs for now."
And that was all. If Venera were inclined to sympathy with other people, she would have been saddened at the thought that Eilen, Odess, and the others accepted conditions like these as the norm. After all, they had likely been born and raised in such tiny chambers. Their playgrounds were dusty servants ways, their schoolrooms window niches. Yet of all the citizens of Liris, they were the privileged ones, for as members of the delegation they were allowed to see something of the world outside their walls.
While Odess sputtered and tried to explain why tradition demanded that they rise to Lesser Spyre in full ceremonial gear, Venera watched the soldiers deposit their precious cargo on the platform. After the rest of the delegation was on board, they flipped up railings on all sides (to her relief) and one bent to examine the archaic engine. This was what really interested her.
"If we're all ready, we will sing the Hymn of Ascension, said Odess, portentously.
Venera looked around. The what?"
He looked as though he'd been slappedbut Eilen put a hand on his arm. We didn't tell her about it, so how would she know?"
"Anyone in Spyre could see us arise, hear the He realized his mistake. Ah yes. A true foreigner. Shaking himself, he put both hands on the rail and puffed out his cheeks. Listen, then, and learn the ways of a civilized society."
While they sang their little ditty, Venera watched the soldier spark the hulking rotary engine into life. Its chattering roar immediately drowned out the miniature choir, who didn't seem to notice. The wheel turned, gripping the cable, and the platform inched slowly into the air.
The purpose of the railings soon became clear. Only a few yards above the rooftop they caught the edge of the howling gale that swept toward the open end of Spyre. This steady hurricane was produced by the rotation of the great cylinder, Venera knew; she'd seen its like in smaller wheels like those of Rush. A wind came in at the cylinder's axis of rotation and shot out again along the rim. If she simply jumped off the platform at this point, she would be propelled out of Spyre entirely, and at goodly force.