Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [273]
Meena walked over to Wataru and squatted. They both touched the ice with their fingers. It made a cracking sound as they scraped at it.
“What could it be…” Wataru began to ask, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a gleam coming from Meena’s chest. She reached beneath her vest and pulled out the Mirror of Truth. Suddenly, the ground beneath them shuddered, and the three slipped and fell down at the same time.
“Whoa! What was that?!”
The hard frozen ground beneath them was vibrating. A crack formed around the edge of the pattern. Then, the crack widened, sending up a spray of fine ice particles. The sheet of ice covering the courtyard broke, and for a moment it seemed like the entire courtyard around the pattern lurched upward. No—it was the pattern that was sinking down, leaving the rest of the city behind it. Like a giant elevator it dropped beneath them, carrying the three down into the frozen earth.
Chapter 39
The Precept-King
When the pattern-elevator had gone down as far as it was going to go, it stopped, forming the floor of another patternshaped chamber.
It was just as cold down here as it had been outside. A fine dusting of ice particles blew through the air. But the walls here were the first ones they had seen in the city that weren’t frozen. A single corridor cut from stone opened in the wall before them.
“Down we go.”
With Kee Keema sandwiched in the middle, the three began to walk. There were no torches or candles in the corridor, yet all was suffused with a dim light. The light came from the slick stones making up the floor, ceiling, and walls, Wataru realized. They gave off a wan radiance like moonlight.
The corridor turned to the right, then to the left, continuing on for some time. In places, heavy-looking doors had been set into the walls on the right and left sides. Without exception, all of the doors were frozen shut, and no matter how hard they pushed and pulled, none would budge.
Here, too, there was no sign of life.
Wataru walked in silence, half from nerves and half from the cold. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever until an arch shaped like a candle flame came into view ahead of them.
The three passed through the arch onto a broad terrace that overlooked a larger, circular room. The ceiling here was very high, at least a hundred feet above them. Stairs curved up along the walls. Wataru stepped out on the terrace, moving over to the railing that ran along the terrace’s edge. The railing was elegant, exquisitely carved in the shape of a flowing vine. He looked over the edge and gasped.
In the center of the room was a large, round mirror—as wide across as Wataru was tall. He recognized it at a glance. A—or maybe even the—Mirror of Truth. Next to it a white-robed man sat slumped in a single chair, like a night watchman dozing off on the job. It was the man who had talked to them through the mirror. The hammer he had been holding lay on the ground by his feet.
Wataru ran down the staircase leading from the terrace to the floor below. Not knowing what to say, he ran up to the man and grabbed him by the arm. Wataru shook him, and the silver crown slipped from the man’s forehead. His hair was as white as it had looked in the mirror. Yet he seemed much younger than Wataru had thought. He’s not even thirty years old. Is he dead?
The man’s head listed to one side, and his eyes opened. They peered into Wataru’s face, filling with a look of relief. “Ah, it is you! You heard my call!” The man blinked his sleepy eyes and attempted to sit up in his chair. A barely audible moan escaped from his lips.
“You are the Traveler.”
In person, his voice, too, sounded quite young. His eyes were clear, his skin smooth and free of wrinkles. So why the white hair?
Wataru nodded. “My name’s Wataru.”
Behind him, Kee Keema and Meena finally reached the bottom of the stairs from the terrace. The man watched them as they approached.
“These are my traveling companions. They came here with me. I’m sorry it took us so long.”
“How…did you reach this place?”
“We rode here on a dragon.”
The