Doom of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [140]
He began to feel frantic, desperate, and it suddenly occurred to him that his own life was whisking away at the same, rapid pace. He could do nothing to halt it. Shaken, he continued on and came to the level of Death.
Joram stared around, puzzled. There was nothing on this level. It was a vast void — neither dark nor light. Just empty. The magi floated through it unseeing, uninterested. The catalysts climbed, heads bowed, their shoes slapping against the marble, their faces a little more cheerful since they realized they were nearing the top.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Joram muttered to himself. “Why is this empty? Death, the Ninth Mystery …” And then he understood. “Of course!” he murmured. “Technology! And that is why there is nothing here since it has — supposedly — been banished from the world. But there must have been something here, once,” he said, looking around intently, peering into the void. “Perhaps the ancient inventions that I read about — the war machines that spewed forth fire, the powder that blew trees from the earth, the machines that printed words on paper. Now lost, perhaps forever. Unless I can bring it back!”
Gritting his teeth, Joram continued the climb. One more level to go.
This was the level of Spirit, the afterlife. Once, it must have been incredibly beautiful, impressing the viewer with the peace and tranquility experienced by those who have passed from this world to the next. But now it had a faded quality about it, as if the illusion were dwindling away. In truth, this was what was happening. The art of Necromancy — communicating with the spirits of the dead — had been lost in the Iron Wars, never to be recovered. No one quite remembered, therefore, what this level was supposed to look like.
Instead of feeling awed, Joram just felt tired and very glad the long climb was nearly at an end. He thought, briefly, of being forced to make this climb every time he came to visit the Emperor — after he was made a Baron, of course — and decided that he would find another means of conveyance. Perhaps a black swan….
Emerging from the spirit world, he walked right into the sunset — or so it seemed to him — and he realized that he was, finally, standing in the Hall of Majesty.
3
The Hall of Majesty
His mind still dazzled by the visions of the wonders through which he had already passed, Joram stared around the Hall of Majesty, awestruck.
Floating above the top of the Palace like a bubble upon water, the hall was perfectly round and made entirely of crystal — as pure and clear as the air that surrounded it. Although now it was at rest over what was known as the Ascent of the Nine Mysteries, the crystal-bubble hall could be moved at a whim — a whim that took thirty-nine catalysts and an equivalent number of Pron-alban twelve hours to perform — to any other location beside, above, or below the Palace. Not only was the round bubble of a hall made of crystal — the walls so thin that one could tap on them with a fingernail and hear a tinkling, resonant chime — but so was the floor that cut through it about a quarter of the way up the side of the bubble. Joram, stepping hesitantly and dazedly off the Stairs of the Catalysts, had the distinct and unnerving feeling that if he walked forward he would be stepping into and onto nothing.
It was just past sunset. The Almin had spread his black cloak over most of the sky; the Sif-Hanar assisting that great Magician in the performance of his duty so that the revelers might enjoy the mysteries and beauties of the night. But, in the west, the Almin lifted the hem slightly to give a last glimpse of the dying day, its red and purple seeping beneath the blackness like a trickle of blood.
It was dark enough, however, that globes of light were beginning to wink on in the hall. Amidst them moved the Emperor’s guests, walking the air of the crystal bubble — meeting, mingling, coming together, drifting apart. The lights, dimmed so as not to deter from the beauty of the falling night, gleamed on jewels and silk, sparkled in laughing eyes, glinted