The Fecund's Melancholy Daughter - Brent Hayward [76]
Yet the shapes did no damage, made no sound. He felt no wind against him. Hornblower turned slowly toward the slot again: the white forms continued to pass, brief blurs before vanishing, as if behind him—though when he glanced back he saw only the dim interior of Anu, and other empty chairs, and the dancing yellow lights.
Facing forward again, prepared for the visceral onslaught, he realized that these shapes were outside Anu, and that they were moving in the sky beyond—
No. The shapes were not moving. Anu was.
Hornblower lurched forward to get a better look. There was a material, clear as air but solid, between him and outside, preventing wind and the white shreds from hitting him. With a knuckle he rapped this cover.
The shapes were clouds, the blue was sky.
No part of his world remained visible: no branches, no leaves.
Anu had left the settlement behind.
“Great sky power,” hornblower wailed, “where are you taking me? Where are we going?”
Anu slowed; hornblower felt this change of speed in his stomach and he gripped the armrests until his fingers turned white again. All he could see through the slot was clouds, lit by the sun. No more sky, no more firmament. Droplets of moisture appeared on the clear cover. Anu began to rock violently.
They were inside the poisonous clouds!
“Please, Anu, speak to me. I beg of you.”
Then something very much like a flattened ambassador shot up before hornblower, tiny wings buzzing.
Seatbelt, it said.
“Ambassador, please, tell me, what have I done? Is Anu angry with me? Where is he taking me?”
Current wind patterns, said the ambassador, at sea level, have been calculated. These are accessible in the database. Exterior drones are unable to navigate through the seeded cumuli and remain above. They will keep watch there. Could you get the exemplar to link to the server?
“I don’t understand.” He almost wept. “I don’t know what is required of me.”
No drones accompany us. The ambassador had small legs, pointed and tucked under. You are without visual but the main process has been initiated. You will need to link soon.
“Please . . .”
There are signals from the seegee. Weak, but we have a trail. Surface area of sail and the angle of descent have been reviewed. The search is currently defined to a four hundred kilometre radius, bearing seven two seven oh. Most likely he was drawn to the city. We ride at seven thousand. Six five. Six. Exemplar process has to commence before further downward travel.
Hornblower closed his eyes. All he understood was that the sky power was descending. Very soon—if he ever had the courage to look out the little covered slot again—he would learn what all the dead had learned.
Over the past few days, Octavia had been trained as a cofferer, polishing the chatelaine’s collection of silver cups; it was to this function she now returned. She had also spent time in Jesthe folding tablecloths, making candles, blending sauces, plucking chickens, counting money, and washing sheets. Trying to fall back into more routine parts of her recent days, her mind, however, whirled. Time on the streets of Nowy Solum, being with Nahid, seemed so long ago.
By mentioning the trouble she and her brother were apparently in, the fecund had indicated to Octavia that she, the monster, was aware of the duplicity. She had mentioned betrayal. The dream that Octavia had fed to the fecund already seemed to be changing patterns in startling ways, shifting invisible alliances and allegiances. Octavia had no idea what she was getting into or what she had done. Was the fecund hers now, as much as it had previously belonged to the chatelaine?
The strip of cloth had torn easily from her shift. Sucking on it, wetting it thoroughly with spit, right after leaving the chatelaine. Then she had tossed it to the fecund while the chatelaine’s batten remained in her pocket. Just like that.
The night