CITY OF BRIDGES

32

Sanctum

The entrance, now covered by overgrown shrubs, was fortunately clear, except for cobwebs. Putting her shoulder to the weathered door and attempting to keep the squeak of the rusty hinges to a minimum, she entered the old storeroom. It took only a quick search to determine anything of value had been removed. All that remained were discarded boxes and a few crates. Underneath the refuse she found a couple of dusty barrels, with a reminiscent odour. It took a few moments for her to recognise it as balbon. She decided to keep well clear of that.

Outside the storeroom, wood panelling lined the walls of a long, dim passage. The whole place showed signs of ageing, as if it hadn’t been maintained for a long time; the panelling had split with the dry air and the carpet was threadbare and faded. Small niches, each with an ornament, were spaced at regular intervals between dust-covered tables. After examining a few, Leonie decided the ornaments weren’t particularly valuable, but must’ve come from all over the continent; they were so different in design and make. In the middle of each table was a large vase full of fresh-cut flowers, contrasting greatly with the dilapidated state of the passage. She was curious about the faint streaks in the dust near the edge of each table, like someone had run their fingers in it.

Leonie froze in surprise when she heard a sneeze behind her. She wasn’t sure if it was by magic or a secret door, but whoever it was had silently entered the same passageway. There was little she could do to avoid detection without making her position even more obvious. All that remained was to stand perfectly still within the shadows.

Strangely, as the figure reached each table, it paused, lingering over the flowers before moving off to the next table. A gloved hand traced the edge of the table, leaving a trail in the thick dust. Slippered feet trod the blue carpet stretching down the centre of the hall. The robed figure was a couple of steps past her before stopping, the hand poised in readiness to touch the next table.

With whiskers twitching, Leonie held her breath to see what would happen next, watching the figure closely. She could make little detail within the shadow of the hood, even with her night-vision. The head moved around slightly from side to side, each shift punctuated by a faint snorting sound. Leonie realised the figure was blind.

“I smell a visitor?” The voice was a whisper, with a faint slurring. “Visitors don’t normally come down here, or are you lost?” the female voice said a bit louder. “You know you shouldn’t be here. Zander has strict instructions. He gets too angry for his own good – the last time he almost burnt down the place.”

Before Leonie answered, the figure turned her head to the exact position to where Leonie was hiding. “I don’t mean to offend, but you have an unusual odour. It is intriguing. These days there’s little that intrigues me.” The voice hesitated for a moment and the sound of sniffing could be heard. “A rrell? But the only rrell I know in the palace is Niaarin, the palace mage and she has no wish to visit me and uses redolent perfumes.” The old crone shuffled a bit closer.

Leonie could see a small membrane on each nostril open and close as she sniffed. Her nose twitched and a forked tongue flickered out.

A seleth? Leonie thought in surprise.

“There’s something else,” the woman paused. “I smell sweat, but rrells don’t sweat. So …rrell and… human?” She turned full circle and sniffed the air behind her. “You are alone so you’re a true half-breed?” The woman stepped back as if in shock.

“I won’t hurt you,” Leonie said quietly, fearing the woman would cry out.

The woman paused. “Can it be…?” she mumbled distantly.

Leonie was unsure what to say. She felt as though the question wasn’t directed to her.

“Follow me,” the woman said abruptly and continued in the direction Leonie had intended. As the woman scuttled down the hall, her hand came out to touch the tables as she passed, as if counting. She turned through a narrow archway.

Leonie warily followed her down a set of stairs.

“I’m Magda. I’ve spent well over a decade here, mostly alone,” the crone said over her shoulders. “I don’t get many visitors anymore – not since the fire.”

Leonie knew this place the moment she entered the next passage; surprised and delighted at the accuracy of her information. “So, you know about the Favoured?” she asked, hurrying behind Magda.

The woman was silent for a moment, stopping before large ironbound double doors at the end of the passage. She leaned on one of the large doors at the end. It opened with a soft squeal of protest. Magda entered without answering. Leonie followed, pushing the door closed behind.

Bookcases of indeterminate age lined the walls from floor to ceiling, with a row of them down the middle. To the left was a small hearth, a couple of worn chairs and a threadbare rug. Unerringly, the woman shuffled to a chair, indicating for Leonie to sit in the opposite one. “There are those that were born naturally, and those that were… a miracle,” she said. “They were the Favoured—” The distant clang of an opening door and voices warned them of pending visitors.

“Quickly. This way.” With the practised ease of familiarity, Magda shuffled down the side of the room, passing several rows of neat but dusty bookcases. In the far, dim corner she tugged open a small ironbound door. “You will be safe in here.”

With the briefest glance at Magda, Leonie ducked low and stepped into a dark, narrow tunnel. The door shut behind her.

“If you are who I think you are,” Magda’s voice sounded faintly through a grill, “then you will recognise this place, and you’ll be safe. If you aren’t… then this will be goodbye. And don’t eat the pigeons.”

Leonie was sure she heard weeping as she tested the door. It was solid and seamless and wouldn’t budge. No latch or locking mechanism to pick from this side. Cursing for her stupidity, she turned and moved down the passage. Descending a few steps, the sandstone bricks finished at what she assumed were the original tower foundations. Beyond, the passage continued into the bedrock of the headland. The astringent odour of salt could be detected, and very faintly, the occasional sounds of waves crashing into the cliffs. The tunnel opened into a low, wide cavern littered with fallen rocks. It took a moment for her to realise where she was. Home.

The sanctum stood to her left, dark and forbidding and the living area and dormitory taking up the remainder of the large space. In her youth, the cavern had always been well lit, with rugs and ornate decorations adorning the walls. Everything was gone now; in its place were burnt, charred remains. Though scorched, with a few remnants of the murals the children painted – the walls and floor were bare rock. Halfway along the east wall, the ‘formal’ stairway that descended from the temple was full of fallen stonework and burnt beams of wood. To her immediate left was the ‘nursery’ and to her right was where the older children played. Because of their ‘differences’ – all being crossbreeds, none were allowed out into the city for fear of teasing and ridicule.

The area set aside for the dormitory and living area was a ruin. She walked through it, her childhood memories reminding her of the layout. Leonie stopped where she and her mother had slept. She wasn’t expecting to see anything horrible, and she didn’t. The bodies were long gone. It was merely her imagination of the sounds of conversation and laughter. Still, she stood motionless, silent tears ran down her face, forlorn with her loss of the mother she hardly knew, at the loss of all the other mothers and children. Why? There was nothing more to gain here, yet she lingered for a few more minutes. What her life would had been like…

Wiping her face with the back of her paw, she turned abruptly and walked away.

How strange the sanctum looked through adult eyes. Her memories, returning in unconnected snippets, were of a completely different shape to what lay before her. Broken and charred wood littered the floor, and she realised these were the remains of an outer covering; a shell to disguise the alien shape. She had not seen it uncovered in its entirety until now. Like a cross between a bird and a fish, long and sleek; streamlined but huge. She wondered fleetingly if it was as large as those whales fishermen spoke about; they had seemed in awe of the creatures, always speaking in hushed tones. Touching the curved side, she nodded with a grim smile as the memories of the cold, hard metal returned.

Leonie walked around the entire sanctum; there was only the one door leading in about midway along the left side. One end of the sanctum formed a rounded wedge-shape held up by a strange structure sticking out from below. She decided this end was the ‘head’ of the fish. What appeared to be windows were dark; not even her night vision could penetrate them. What amazed her was how they curved around the body. Just below the window read ‘Skydancer’. The metal here looked slightly dented and scorched. Bending down to look underneath she noted the scorch marks – as well as the long, deep scratches – trailed almost to the rear. In her memory, she recalled a multitude of flowers and plants all along the bottom, obscuring various parts of the sanctum.

At the tail end, two large cone-shaped tubes extended behind the body. Three ‘fins’ splayed out here as well. One large fin sprouting up and out from the two tubes almost touched the cavern roof. Two shorter but wider fins stuck out each side and angling down, supporting the back end of the sanctum.

Walking back to the middle of the sanctum, sandstone steps lead to the threshold of a half-open door. She recalled it slid into a recess within the wall. As Leonie ascended, she spied a square indentation the size of her palm. It popped open at her touch revealing a dark blank rectangle, and ten small squares with rounded corners below it. They had symbols on each; they looked vaguely like numbers, but the order they were in meant nothing to her. Touching them revealed little other than the faintest of clicks when pressed.

With a shrug and the slightest bit of trepidation, she climbed inside. The interior wall was made of the same metal but a lighter colour. The floor had a firm, non-slip covering. She couldn’t work out what it was. Not paint or carpet – she was barely able to scratch it with a claw. Opposite the entrance, but further in, a large column stretched from floor to ceiling. It was in the middle of the floor at the intersection of other passages. Leonie snatched her paw back in surprise when she touched it. It was warm. Cautiously, she placed her paw on it again. There was the faintest of vibrations. Further investigation disclosed little else; more of those little squares with numbers, a few dials and a lever, which did nothing when turned or pulled.

Following the passage to her right, she remembered the door her mother took her through as a child. All these doors were closed and try as she might, there was no way for her to open them. There was no aura of power and kicking it only bruised her toes. She stepped away in frustration.

Heading in the other direction, passed the entrance and the warm, vibrating column, she headed towards the ‘head’. There were two closed doors on each wall. She didn’t even attempt to try to open them. At the end of the passage, a partially open door led into a large room. Inside she saw the two large, darkened windows. Other strange objects and shapes occupied the centre of the room; weirdly designed chairs around a low table. Entering, she sat in one of the chairs, it moved, quickly moulding itself to her shape, even taking into account her stub of a tail. The material was smooth and tough yet flexible. Two of the front chairs had strange layouts of little squares in the armrest, but larger and with more squares of different colours as well as a few dials. Again, nothing changed when she pushed or turned them. I wonder if Magda knows how to use these?

She spent a few disappointing minutes exploring the room. The storage areas were empty; there was nothing here other than confusion. Everything here was beyond her comprehension and this palace visit was working out to be nothing like she had planned. When had I really planned anything?

Her conversations with Feiron echoed in her head. These people really did come from another world! Nothing here resembled anything familiar. She came here looking for answers, but now had more questions. Reluctantly, but at a loss at what else to do, she exited the sanctum and moved towards the sound of the surf.

As she approached, she heard a shuffling noise and the brief flapping of wings. She noticed a number of cages in a n alcove against the back end of the cavern. ‘Don’t eat my pigeons.’ Leonie recalled Magda’s last words. She had a good mind to let them go, but decided against it. Knowing her luck, they’d crap on her as they flew about.

Turning her attention to this section of the wall, she noticed some of it was not natural stone. Someone built it. Stepping back again and comparing it with the sanctum – the ‘Skydancer’ – she estimated the wall covered an entrance large enough so it could fit through.

There were several gaps where the rock-work had fallen. Leonie was about to look through when a pigeon came flapping through. When it landed, she noticed a band wrapped around its leg. A message? It flapped away when she tried to reach for it. Who would be sending a message to Magda? Zander perhaps?

With a shrug of disappointment, she returned to the gap. Craning her neck out in both directions, she could see no land. She was looking directly at the Southern Ocean glinting in the moonlight. Turning awkwardly, she looked up. The walls of the palace blended neatly into the cliff face.

Leonie climbed out and used her harness to ascend the wall. Buffeted by the wind, she gripped it to maintain direction. A dim light from a single window high in a tower intrigued her. The window was wide open, letting in the fresh sea air. The curtains, the worse for wear and stiff with salt residue, swayed stiffly in the breeze. Before her presence was noticed, she merged with the shadows near the ceiling. Her attention was immediately drawn to the far wall. The whole section glowed with aura.

It had a slight curve and a stone bench-top followed the contour. A cleric sat down in one of the many chairs along the bench. He sat, staring into the face of a large crystal before him.

Resembling mosaic tiles, row upon row of crystals were stacked on their sides to appear as a flat, hexagonal face. The many polished surfaces reminded her of honeycomb. Leonie was completely captivated. If it wasn’t for the aura of magic surrounding it, she would have thought it an ornate mural, each facet depicting a different pattern. Her whiskers quivered in amazement.

Entranced, she risked exposure by moving closer to view the scene below. What she first thought as light playing along the crystal surface turned out to be moving pictures. Each facet showing an area of the city or harbour; some even showing glimpses of building interiors through windows.

Scanning the crystals on the wall, the cleric would adjust one of the silver knobs in front of him. It took a few moments for Leonie to comprehend what he saw on the large crystal was a more detailed image from one of the smaller ones. The dark of night made no difference to the view. Bugger!

Only now did it dawn on her! It was an ingenious method of spying. The pillars scattered around the city with the crystal decorations were strategically placed so Zander could keep an eye on his domain. No wonder he wanted the Watchers here.

Beside every large crystal display was an extremely detailed picture of a young man. Leonie had never seen a picture quite like it before. Dressed in strange, foreign garb, he had silver-white hair and startling blue eyes. No doubt someone of great interest to Zander, if the number of these pictures along the bench was any indication.

There were more crystals than she could count and after scrutinising the closest ones, she recognised many locations. With enough clerics, the entire city could be observed. A few crystals remained blank, and she assumed they were faulty in some way. One particular location caught her eye, showing an area not too far from her abode. Her movements would need to be changed and Jade would need to be told.

Every so often the cleric would jot on a parchment beside him, looking at the large hourglass to note the time before moving onto a different scene. This one showed several furtive figures in the Merchants’ Quarter. The cleric immediately tugged on a woven rope. She heard a bell ring faintly, no doubt summoning a messenger or guard. Either way, she’d have to come back and make a map.

Intent on his task, he failed to notice the dark shadow slip out the window. Within a few minutes Leonie was in the alleyways behind the large warehouses of Portside. Now more mindful of the obelisk’s functions, it was preferable to the rooftops until she knew exactly which areas were safest. Heading back to the web, her thoughts went back to the night of the slain courier. Did these watchers see her or the assassins? Did they witness the fight? Is that why the guards were riding down on horseback?

“Slistorf’s balls!” she hissed to herself. “How can I tell Jade if I’m supposed to be staying at home?”

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