The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [68]
Hearing a skittering sound, she saw two of the beetles approaching her cautiously, their antennae waving in the air. They opened and closed sawlike jaws. She crunched both of them under her heel, then smeared the ichor on the flagstones.
She went from building to building, most of which must have been dwellings. Other structures were silos and storehouses in which she found amazingly preserved food supplies. Though she could not make out the faded drawings on the labels, tonight she would treat herself to a feast that Jax-Ur himself might have eaten.
After Rao had set, she moved her camp over beside the pitted Jax-Ur statue in Execution Square. The warlord’s dominating presence made Aethyr feel secure, as if he would frighten away anything that might endanger her.
She built a fire, not so much for the warmth as for the glad comfort of the crackling flames. She opened the jars of food she had found, breaking ages-old seals and smelling the contents. One stewlike mixture was savory and piquant, flavored with spices totally unfamiliar to Aethyr. She dipped her finger into the sauce, tasted it, then heated the entire serving. Another container held some sort of pickled vegetable, but it was brown and bubbly and smelled foul. She tossed it into the corner of the fallen-down ruins, where it spilled against a broken fluted column.
She watched, both amused and fascinated, as four topaz beetles scuttled out of the shadows, startled by the noise of the clattering container. They returned to devour every scrap of the spoiled pickles. More and more beetles emerged from the shadows, waving antennae in search of their share of the food, before ducking back into shelter.
Strictly as a precaution, Aethyr gathered a pile of rocks and shards from the broken statues. Beneath the looming shadow of Jax-Ur, she looked again at the city’s towers, the broken windows, the randomly arranged alcoves and black balconies. Oddly, the very randomness seemed somehow calculated, a pattern that she could see only at the edge of her awareness.
She opened another container to find a smooth, sweet pudding with a sugary crust on top and chewy lumps inside. She ate it, enjoying every bite, though afterward her stomach felt heavy and her ears were filled with a slight buzzing. Perhaps the pudding was some sort of drug, a sensory-enhancement or thought-deadening substance. Feeling herself grow sleepy, she shook her head.
A lone beetle scuttled forward, as if its companions had dared it to make a foray in her direction. Aethyr picked up one of her rocks, aimed carefully, and smashed the beetle’s carapace. It let out a thin squeak as it died. Four other insects rushed forward and fell upon the carcass, ripping away the shining shell and eating the soft goo inside.
The buzzing in her ears grew louder, and Aethyr looked again at the fallen buildings, sweeping her gaze from thick towers to the remains of Jax-Ur’s palace. From here, she could make out shadow-enhanced carvings, geometric projections, and deep-cut alcoves. The placement of the windows and openings made no sense—until she stopped thinking of them as windows. Instead, she viewed them as a design, a code. As she looked back and forth, trying to decipher the letters or symbols, they finally made sense.
Musical notes.
She and her friend Lara had both studied ancient Kryptonian compositions, especially the pompous “Jax-Ur’s March.” According to legend, the warlord had demanded that the eponymous march be played at each of his appearances. Aethyr recalled the old notation and translated the notes. Fighting back a strange temptation to giggle, she began to hum and sway, making her finger follow along with the notes. Yes, she was sure of it.
Aethyr sat down, a little off-balance from the intoxicating dessert, and withdrew the small flute from her pack.
Five more beetles approached from different directions. Impatient, Aethyr killed them all