Текст книги "Days of the Vipers"

Автор книги: James Swallow

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Kubus smiled. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll have all the support we need.”

“What do you mean?” Lonnic asked.

The other minister glanced at her. “The Prophets will provide.”

The door hissed open and Kell crossed the threshold into the Kornaire’s primary laboratory module, casting around until he spotted the woman Ico at a console in the far corner of the room. He was glad to be back on his ship; the towering ceilings of the Bajoran castle had made him feel uncomfortable, and he had forced himself to resist the urge to look up over and over, as if his senses were warning him of something threatening overhead. Kell preferred the close, controlled spaces of his vessel, the decks and corridors he knew as well as the ridges on his own neck.

He studied the faces of the civilian contingent as he passed them by. Only one or two of the half-dozen scientists dared to look him in the eye. Most of them hadn’t even left the lab decks to venture into other parts of the ship. He imagined they were simply marking time, waiting for the mission to be over so they could return to whatever interminable research projects they had been plucked from. He saw one of the younger men, the one called Pa’Dar. Kell had seen him in conversation with Dukat about the vessel. It would behoove me to place a closer watch on that one,he mused. Unlike the others, Pa’Dar had willingly taken meals in the mess hall and seemed interested in the running of the ship. Such behavior left Kell suspicious; there was no doubt in his mind that the secretive forces of the Obsidian Order had an operative on board the Kornaire—it was standard practice to put a spy on every line starship, so the rumors went—and with these scientists foisted upon him it was likely they had used the group to insert another. But then again, Pa’Dar is the obvious choice,he told himself. Too obvious for the Order; then again, it wouldn’t be beyond them to attempt a double-bluff…

He shook the thought away. This trying mission was playing on his mind.

“Gul,” said Ico. “Thank you for coming. I felt it would be simpler to display my findings here rather than on the bridge.”

“I appreciate the need for containment of information,” he replied. “Show me.”

Ico manipulated the arc of control tabs on the panel before her, and a large screen on the wall opened into a virtual display of the star system, each of the fourteen worlds in the ecliptic appearing with designations and data tags that streamed with information. A curved red line showed the course that the Kornairehad taken from the outer edge of the system in toward Bajor. Kell noted how the Bajorans had done their best to ensure that the Cardassian ship had traveled on a circuitous route that kept it as far from the other worlds as possible. If anything, such an action showed how little they knew about the capacity of Cardassian sensor technology. Coupled with long-range scans from other ships and the reports of covert probe drones, the Kornairehad a good spread of information about the Bajor system to draw upon.

“Our initial estimates were incorrect,” said the woman.

Kell eyed her. “In what way?”

Ico didn’t look at him. “If anything, we were far too conservative in our approximations. There’s a reason these aliens have never ventured far from home, Gul. They have everything they need close by.” She altered the image to bring up a series of models of the planets, which scrolled past one by one, each bringing up ovals of text showing mineralogical determinations. “Stocks of feldomite, dilithium, iron, kelbonite…”

“What about Bajor itself?” he insisted.

She nodded and worked the console to show the planet that they now orbited. “We’ve used our time carefully. To ensure the aliens were not aware of the operation, I had my team adopt a rotating scan frequency modulation combined with a shift matrix in the Kornaire’s sensor pallets—”

“How your team did it concerns me less than what you learned.” Kell was getting impatient with the woman. Although he found the scientist an interesting diversion from the military officers he normally associated with, Ico had a tendency to display more self-interest than was seemly for a civilian.

“Of course,” she replied, letting his interruption roll off her. The image of Bajor unfolded into a topographical map that changed color, areas glowing in different shades to highlight geological strata and mineral deposits. “I have conducted an intensive scan of the planet and the close orbital moons, confirming the intelligence provided by the Obsidian Order. Bajor is indeed a treasure-house, Gul Kell.” She pointed out areas on the map. “It is very rich in many key strategic ores and minerals. For example, several parts of the planet are dense with seams of raw uridium.” Ico folded her arms. “From what I can determine, it seems that the natives have made only a few cursory attempts to excavate the substance, and in a largely inefficient manner. A more intensive program of strip-mining would generate a much greater yield, perhaps with the construction of an orbital refinery platform to facilitate more effective extraction.”

Kell grimaced. “Yes, I’m sure the Bajorans would be happyto allow us to level their hillsides in order to fulfill the needs of our shipyards.” He snorted.

Ico gave him a neutral look. “It was my understanding that the purpose of this mission is to establish the value Bajor has to the Cardassian Union as a resource, not how we may make the locals happy.”

“What was it that you said to me before?” Kell glared at her. “This is only one ship, Professor Ico. What would you have me do, wage war with it and plant the Galorpennant on a pile of corpses in the plaza of their capital city?”

“I would never have the temerity to think I could provide military acumen to a decorated officer of the Second Order, Gul,” she replied smoothly. “I am a scientist, and it is my function to observe and calculate, and draw conclusions from what I witness. Perhaps, if the Central Command did not insist on provoking the Talarian Republic, there might be more vessels to prosecute the more important missions for the Union.”

“Are you suggesting that this…this fact-finding jaunt has as much value as defending our borders against raiders?” Kell loomed over her, but the insufferable female remained aloof.

“I know you feel slighted by the orders you were given,” she continued. “Be assured I would not say the same to anyone else.” Her smile was cool. “I imagine you would prefer to be out at the perimeter, engaged in combat.” She cocked her head. “Your daughter is there now, is that not right? Stationed with the punitive fleet at Torman?” Ico gave a theatrical sigh. “But neither of us have what we wish, Gul Kell. I wish to see Cardassia thrive, and to do that she needs resources, but for now the option to annex Bajor is beyond us.” Her voice hardened. “What I find disappointing, and what I do not doubt Central Command and the Detapa Council will also be dismayed by, is the paucity of response you generated from the Bajorans.”

Kell’s temper was rising, but he kept it in check. “I did as I was ordered to. I offered them our technology and they were uninterested.” He made a curt gesture with his hand, hoping to make the woman flinch, but she remained impassive. “I dislike this interminable diplomatic rhetoric. Already I am sick of it.” He drew himself up. “I told Command when my orders were delivered to me, this mission is pointless. All we can do is gather what intelligence we can and then return to Cardassia.” He nodded at the screen. Kell wasn’t sure what irritated him the most: that the woman was so perceptive, or that on some level he agreed with her. “Let them send politicians next time,” he grated. “This is their arena, not ours.”

Ico gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. “My dear gul! We are Cardassians. We are all of us political animals.”

He turned his back on her and made to leave.

Kell was halfway across the laboratory when Ico spoke again, her words deceptively light. “It’s a pity,” she began. “At a time like this, a man who returned to the homeworld with a bloodless victory for his people would be hailed as a hero.”

He paused, turning. “I have no need for plaudits,” he said carefully, “I take my glory in serving Cardassia.”

Ico approached, smiling that flat, predatory smile of hers. She saw straight through the lie in his words. What man wouldn’t want to be lauded? But what chance is there for triumph in this backwater, surrounded by pious, stolid aliens?

“Just so,” she allowed. “And would it not serve Cardassia to bring her succor?”

He frowned. “You’re talking in circles, and I have little tolerance for such things.”

“Have you seen the datastreams from home, Danig?” Her voice became more intimate, as if she were confiding some personal secret. “There have been incidents, violence in the streets.”

Kell hesitated. His attention had been solely on the ship and the mission. He had not had a moment to review the information feeds. The gul wondered where Ico had got access to that data herself.

She continued. “The Oralians have been causing unrest. Apparently, after Hadlo joined the mission and left Cardassia, some of his followers chose to believe that he had in fact been executed by the state, that this endeavor was merely the cover for that deed.”

Kell sneered. “They flatter themselves. If Hadlo was to be killed, he would have been gunned down in the street, not spirited away in some conspiracy.” He met the woman’s gaze. “What have they done?”

“Some violent clashes have been reported between religious militants and the armed forces. There are rumors that agents in the employ of the Talarians may be assisting the militants. The Oralians have come in from their enclaves outside the cities and disrupted transport routes, started riots.”

“Where?”

“Senmir, Corvon, and Lakat.” She hesitated. “Your first officer is from Lakat, isn’t that right? Dalin Dukat? I wonder if he is aware of the situation.”

The gul ignored the comment. “The Talarians? They’d never dare to make trouble on Cardassia. They know how hard we struck back after they violated our borders. They wouldn’t risk our retaliation.” He sniffed. “Obsidian Order propaganda, nothing more, designed to isolate those Oralian fools even further.”

“As you wish,” she replied, without weight. “I only tell you what I have heard.”

Kell’s eyes narrowed. “You’re very well informed, Rhan. Some might think too well informed for a mere scientist.”

“I’m not responsible for what others think of me,” said the woman, turning back to her work. “As I told you before, my duty is to observe and theorize. We all serve Cardassia in our own ways.”

When he was back in his quarters, the gul opened a protected link to his security chief. “Matrik,” he snapped, “the surveillance on the contingent from the science ministry, have you found anything of interest?”

The junior officer shook his head warily. “Nothing substantial as yet, sir. One of them appears to be concealing a minor drug addiction, but nothing that may threaten the ship’s security. I have been directing extra attention to Kotan Pa’Dar. He’s been associating with the dalin quite a bit.”

Kell frowned. “Forget Pa’Dar. Dukat’s smart enough not to socialize with spies. He’s not the one. Watch Ico. Put all your resources on her.”

“Sir?” Matrik’s face showed confusion. “You believe she’s a shadow? Her files were—”

“Just watch her,” Kell commanded, and stabbed the disconnect key.

6

As they walked the cloisters of the monastery at Kendra, Gar’s attention was drawn to the haunted look in the eyes of the alien cleric. Finally, the older Cardassian caught his gaze and gave him a rueful smile, his expression filled with sadness.

“This place is magnificent, Prylar,” Hadlo told him.

“You have truly been blessed by your Prophets.”

“This is one of many places dedicated to our faith,” said Gar. “Each province has a central monastery like this one, and several smaller temples and reclusia. Most of them are built on holy sites that date back to before our recorded history.”

“Incredible,” breathed Bennek. The other priest was lost in the scope of the building, pausing to study every tiny detail of the decorations and opulent hangings inside each alcove.

A question came quickly to Gar’s lips. “Do you have similar places of devotion on Cardassia?”

A shadow passed over Bennek’s face, and Gar immediately regretted asking. Hadlo patted the younger man on the arm. “Our faith…Once it was celebrated in places such as this one, but now we have no temples of such merit. Time and the will of secular men have taken them from us. These days, the Way spreads from tents and shanty towns, in caverns and basements. It is no longer safe to praise Oralius in stone and mortar as well as in our flesh.”

Gar didn’t know what to say, and he hesitated, searching for the right words. The kai, her pleasant face fixed in an expression of deep compassion, came to his support. “Sometimes we forget how fortunate we are to have such things,” Meressa said to Gar, Cotor, and Arin. Arin was a ranjen, a theologist and one of the resident priests at the monastery, and he had joined the group on their walking tour of the grounds. “We should thank our Cardassian brothers for reminding us of that.” She looked to Hadlo. “I hope you will not think ill of me to say it, but I have always felt that a place of worship is as sacred as one wishes it to be. It need not be built of stone and iron. It need not even be a place with walls and roof…” She tapped her chest. “The heart is the grandest temple of all.”

“You are quite correct,” said Hadlo, some of the grimness leaving his face. “Would that all my kinsmen had such clarity of insight.” The alien glanced back at Gar. “Please, Prylar, do continue. I wish to know more.”

Meressa gave him a nod of assurance, and Gar licked his lips. “Certainly. Well, uh, the monastery here at Kendra has just over a thousand clerics in residence at any one time, some of them on retreats from other parishes, some taking part in missions of faith, some of them serving as fulltime staff. We have a mix of lower-ranked prylars such as myself, along with more senior ranjens and vedeks…” He jutted his chin at Arin and Cotor, who both nodded back. “Many come to take meditative walks along the Sahving Valley.” Gar paused by a window and pointed out into the clear day; in the middle distance, the mouth of the grassy vale was visible. “Others come to study our library, as we discussed in the keep. There’s also the Whispering Hall…”

Arin made a noise of assent. “Many scholars have said the hall is the most spiritual place on Bajor. There is a peace there that few other reclusia can match.”

“Indeed,” said Cotor. “And of course, there is the Kendra Shrine.” He gestured toward the end of the long, wide cloister. An oval doorway stood before them, the doors cut from a dark, dense wood and decorated with lines of thick latinum. The large entrance allowed passage to the shrine proper, and around it there were smaller doors of normal dimensions. Through these, pilgrims of certain piety could enter smaller prayer chambers with only a single stone wall between them and the monastery’s most holy of holies, the Orb of Truth.

Gar felt a tingling in the soles of his feet as he walked closer, an electric sensation, a vertiginous rush as if he were approaching the edge of a steep, sheer cliff.

Bennek was pointing at the doors. “I have a question.” He made an oval shape in the air before him. “The symbol of the nested ellipses and circle appears again and again in your society, and not just in your religion. I have seen it on insignia, on the uniforms of your Militia. What does it mean?”

“It is the unity of Bajoran existence, my friend,” began the kai warmly. She indicated the etchings cut into the shrine door. “The circle at the lowest level represents the world of Bajor, her people, and, in a greater sense, all that is corporeal. The first oval that envelops the circle and extends above it is the universe around us, all that lies beyond Bajor. The last oval, the largest, which surrounds the other two shapes, symbolizes the Prophets. It signifies the place they have in our lives, watching over everything, knowing all, protecting and nurturing us.”

“And the line?” Bennek traced the column that rose from the crest of the circle, bisecting the two larger ovals.

“What does that mean?”

“It is the pathway that unites all: Bajor and her children, the universe and the Prophets.”

The Cardassian’s brow wrinkled. “I see that. But why then does the pathway extend beyond the realm of the Prophets?” He indicated the top of the doors, to where the rising line emerged alone.

Meressa smiled. “That, Bennek, is the gateway to the unknown, the unfinished road. It represents our eternal quest for knowledge and understanding.”

“Fascinating,” murmured Hadlo. “Your Eminence, what I have seen here today brings me to a single conclusion.” He glanced at the Bajoran monk. “Prylar Gar spoke of ‘missions of faith,’ and after your warm reception I find myself compelled to make a most serious request of you and your church.”

The kai’s expression was neutral, but Gar felt a thrill of anxiety. “Go on, brother. We will hear what you wish to say.”

The Cardassian cleric’s fingers knitted together and he gazed at the Bajorans one by one; but as he spoke, the prylar couldn’t help but notice that Bennek’s face had turned rigid and stony, as if the younger cleric were afraid to utter a word. “I am flattered you would call me brother, Kai Meressa,” continued Hadlo. “And in that spirit, I would humbly make entreaty to Bajor. I ask your formal permission for the Oralian Way to establish an enclave on your world.”

“An enclave?” Arin echoed. “You wish to build a church here?”

“Not exactly.” Hadlo shook his head. “An embassy, of a kind. A theological legation from which my fellow Oralians can come forth to learn from your scholars and seek the connections between our two faiths.” He sighed. “There is so little opportunity for such reflection and contemplation on Cardassia Prime. But this world? I have rarely found a place so open to spirituality.”

“The Vedek Assembly will have to be consulted,” Cotor said quickly, speaking before the kai had a chance to reply. There was open misgiving in his manner. “To grant a place for an alien credo on our soil…There is no precedent for such a thing.”

Meressa sniffed in mild derision. “The Prophets are not so venial or so weak as to be afraid of another man’s view of the universe. They welcome the challenge of new ideas. I would hope the Vedek Assembly would not do the opposite.”

“It is a serious request, Eminence,” Cotor pressed.

Hadlo hesitated. “Please, I do not mean to be the cause of dissent—”

“You are not,” said the kai firmly, “and I will see to it that your appeal goes forward with my backing.”

Hadlo bowed. “Thank you, Eminence. I firmly believe the coming together of our faiths heralds great things.”

“I know it,” Meressa replied, with quiet honesty. “And if you will come with me, Hadlo, I hope to show you why.” The group crossed a line of golden tiles set in the marble floor of the cloister, to a series of stone basins on the outer walls of the great shrine. Temple servants were there holding bolts of white linen, and with automatic reverence Gar and Arin backed away. Arin, as a ranjen and a rank higher, took one step back while the prylar took two. Gar’s fingers curled into his palms, and he fought to push down the nervous energy coiling in his chest. To be so close to the shrine and yet be unable to go any further—it filled the young priest with conflicting emotions that were hard to separate.

Abruptly, he was aware that the kai was looking directly at him as she washed her hands in the clear waters from the basin. She dried them with the white cloth, but instead of moving to the next phase of the ritual cleansing, she turned and came across to him.

“Eminence?”

“Ask me,” she said quietly, pitching her words so that only the two of them could hear what she was saying. “Go on, Osen. Give voice to the question that has been stuck in your throat since last night.”

It would have done him no good to feign ignorance; Meressa was perhaps the most intelligent, most compassionate, certainly one of the most insightful people he had ever met. Any thought of politely deflecting her question faded, and he let out a thin sigh. “Eminence, why are you doing this? You are about to usher an alien into the presence of the Prophets! And you have ignored Vedek Cotor’s rightful concerns over such an action!”

She nodded. “I have indeed, my young friend. And shall I tell you why?”

He straightened. “You are kai. You do not have to explain your decisions to a mere prylar if you do not wish to.”

“But I do, Osen, and I will.” She touched him on the arm, and her hand was cold from the chilly water that fed the basins from the spring beneath the monastery. “You are a little like Cotor. You are clever, but you are also afraid. You have never stood in the presence of a Tear.”

“I have not yet had that honor,” Gar husked.

“Part of you longs for that moment, and part of you is terrified of the prospect of it, yes?” He nodded woodenly, and she continued. “As was I.” The kai smiled. “And, perhaps, you are jealous of Hadlo? You wish it were you?”

Gar felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Yes. I do, Eminence,” he admitted. “I know I should rise above such things.”

“You are only mortal. And there willcome a time when Gar Osen will stand before the ark in that chamber. But not today.” Her hand dropped away. “I will confide in you, because before I do this I feel as if I must.”

“But…the ritual…”

Meressa silenced him with a gesture. “Rites and prayers are only frames for our faith in the Prophets. Truth is what they ask from us, Osen, truth and love. I have always been one to test the hidebound ways of our church to stop us from becoming parochial. That is why the Vedek Assembly has Cotor here to watch me. I vex them with the choices I make and the things that I do.” She studied him. “They ask me why I have an untested prylar from a provincial city on my staff.” Meressa glanced at Arin, who stood watching the Cardassians. “They ask me why I overlooked my ranjen’s dalliances with illicit substances and rescued him from the ignominy of a colonial posting. And now they will ask me why I hold out friendship to these aliens and offer them the chance to walk our path.” The kai leaned close to him. “It is because I sense the future. The Prophets gave me insight, and I feel it coming. I am certain that only through leaps of faith, through trust, can we progress.”

All at once Gar’s breath caught in his throat as he realized what Meressa was telling him. “Eminence, no! You must say no more! You cannot speak of it!”

But she kept talking, and Gar couldn’t turn away. “The pagh’tem’far.The sacred vision granted by the Prophets. When I first encountered an Orb, they showed me such sights…” Her vision became hazy, and Gar knew she was seeing that moment again in her thoughts. “Such images and sensations that it will take me a lifetime to meditate on the meaning of them all. But I recall one thing with clarity. One moment with such sharpness that it burns inside me still.”

“You must not,” Gar managed. “The visions gifted by the Tears are for those alone who experience them, not for others. You must not tell me.”

She smiled gently. “I think the Prophets will not mind this once. If it convinces you that I am right, then they will not be upset by it.” Meressa gazed into his eyes. “I saw a future yet to come. The Celestial Temple revealing itself, and in the heavens above, a giant’s iron crown floating among the stars. I glimpsed an age of unity for Bajor, all of it stemming from one moment. The arrival of those not of our world, but also connected to it. An alien who is no alien.”

Gar swallowed hard. “And…and you believe that these Cardassians could be these offworlders the Prophets showed you?”

“I cannot be certain. That is why they are here. The Orb of Truth will answer that question.” She was silent for a moment. “Now do you see?”

The prylar felt rooted to the spot. That the kai herself had trusted him with her personal insight—it was a heady sensation. He nodded, unable to frame an answer, and she left him there pondering her words.

Bennek’s fingers were light on Hadlo’s shoulder. The Cardassian turned to face his junior and saw the worry there on his face. “What is it?”

“I question this,” said the young cleric. “You have no idea what they expect of you, of us. We know so little of their ways…”

Hadlo smiled slightly. “What are you afraid of, Bennek? Do you think they will drink my blood or brainwash me? It is a temple, nothing more. They will show me their great and holy relic, and I will give it the reverence it deserves, and then we will move on to matters of greater import.”

Bennek spoke in a whisper as Hadlo used the linen to dry his hands. “You meant everything you said to them, all this talk of enclaves?”

“I did,” he replied. “We must look to all possible outcomes. We will forge a friendship with these people, but with one eye toward Cardassia. If the Detapa Council attempts to expunge us, a place to find sanctuary with sympathetic souls would be of great use.”

Bennek was about to say more, but then the kai approached him. “Hadlo,” she said, offering him her hand. “Are you prepared?”

“I suppose I am,” he told her. “Is there anything I should say or do once we enter the shrine?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Open your heart and your mind. The Prophets will do the rest.”

The doors closed behind them with a solid, heavy thump, and Hadlo’s fixed smile faltered a little. The realization came upon him in an instant; what if Bennek’s concerns were justified? The cleric had a point—the Oralians really didn’t know much about the ways of the Bajoran church. What if Meressa asked him to do something strange, something unholy?

Hadlo clamped down on that line of thinking, rejecting it as foolish; but the nagging voice in his head would not be silenced.

“This way,” said the kai, leading him forward.

Inside, the shrine chamber was circular, with walls that vanished away toward a ceiling covered with intricate murals of alien figures, great oceans of stars, and unfamiliar landscapes. There were freestanding walls twice the height of a man ringing the center of the shrine, spaced at regular intervals. As they moved around them, the Cardassian glimpsed a shallow dais and upon it a wooden box. A honey-colored light seeped from the container, spilling out across the room. He noted that Meressa did not at any moment look in the direction of the box.

She drew to a halt in the shadow of one of the barriers and indicated the dais with a sweep of her robed arm. “I will go no further,” said the kai. “This is the pagh’tem’far.This moment belongs to you alone, Hadlo. Step to the ark and look within.”

He felt his throat become arid. “What…what will happen?”

Meressa bowed her head. “You will look into the Tear, and the Tear will look into you.”

Hesitantly, Hadlo stepped through the gap between two of the walls and into the very heart of the Kendra Shrine. He saw the box more clearly now, what Meressa had termed the “ark.” The container was made of old wood, polished smooth by the action of thousands of fingers upon its surface. Complex Bajoran ideograms decorated the edges, illuminated in the soft yellow-green glow from within. Through misted oval lenses in the sides of the ark, Hadlo defined the shape of something infinitely complex, turning and shimmering.

A thread of old memory rose up inside him. A boy’s bare feet padding along the rough stone floors of the Temple of Oralius, decades before it had been torn down and ground to rubble. His new master’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from a mother whose trade for his life now meant she could afford to feed his brothers and sisters. Young Hadlo, at first not understanding, coming to face the priestess with the mask of the Fate upon her. The sudden knowledge that he was in the presence of something greater than himself. The need to subsume himself within it.

He felt a stab of panic. The Cardassian was not sure what he had expected to see, but it had not been anything like this. Some sculpture, perhaps, or the mummified bones of an old dead saint. He held up his hands and watched the waves of light cross over his skin. His flesh tingled and the image wavered; for a moment he saw not the gray quality of his own species but the pale tones of a Bajoran.

Hadlo blinked and the illusion vanished. The box compelled him toward it, and he found his fingers moving across the wood. It was pleasant to the touch, as if it had been warmed by the glow of a summer sun. Seams parted and the ark opened to him, almost of its own accord; a helix of glittering, shifting intricacy lay there, casting its light over his face. And inside it…

Inside Hadlo saw—

Whiteness hazed his sight, burning the stone reality of the shrine away from him, casting the Cardassian into a footless void of numbing darkness.

I am falling and falling and falling—

There were voices speaking in tongues, chattering in Old Hebitian, crying out his name in Lakarian dialects, laughing and hooting. Hadlo looked down and saw pale flesh upon his hands. He raised them to his face and there were no ridges upon his neck and about his eyes, only a raised serration across the bridge of his nose. A heavy weight of metal links dragged upon his ear.

No, this is not who I am—

He felt rough caresses over his legs and bare feet, a touch like old dry parchment. Hadlo’s gaze dropped to see serpents crowding around him, rising up like a tide. Gray vipers moving about his body as if he were not there, more and more of them now, burying him under their obdurate mass.

He cried out and threw them off, stumbling away. His feet plunged ankle-deep into drifts of ash, and the cleric turned, his robes catching in a tormented wind, tearing his pastel hood from his head. Hadlo glanced up and saw the vestiges of an obliterated city ranged around him, beneath angry clouds that spat flames and lightning.