Edda Page 22

  “Good idea. I’ll ask Gunnar to stay here. If I die, I’ll report to him, and he can tell Ghost and Athena what’s on the other side.”

  “Ready then?” Jodocus looked at Cindella.

  “Off we go.”

  Chapter 20

  THE WAR COUNCIL

  The first indication that there was an emergency underway in Edda was a rapid hammering on the door of Penelope’s research room. Ambassador, who all afternoon could have been mistaken for a statue, leaped over to answer the knocks. As soon as the door was open, Scout stepped through.

  “Stop everything. You’re needed in the planning room straightaway.”

  “Both of us?” asked Ambassador.

  “He didn’t say.” Scout shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  With a sigh and a leisurely stretch toward the roof, Penelope got up from her seat at the work desk. She did not like being summoned as though she was a mindless soldier unit, and deliberately took her time putting her tools neatly back in their places, testing the patience of Scout. It was a short experiment. Scout ran by the table with her arm stuck out, presumably intending to sweep everything to the floor in a dramatic flourish that would shock Penelope into motion. Instead, Scout banged her forearm hard against the skull and shrieked in pain as it proved to be fixed firmly to the heavy table.

  “I might have broken my arm!” Scout looked accusingly at Penelope, holding her sore limb across her chest with her good hand.

  “I take it Lord Scanthax needs me as a matter of urgency?”

  “Yes, come on.” Still holding her hurt arm to her chest, Scout ran out of the room. Ambassador gave a flourish of his hand to indicate that Penelope should depart next. She did so, noticing with a tremor of concern that Ambassador’s gaze moved from her to fix on the skull with an expression of surprise and curiosity. Still, at least Ambassador was not staying behind to examine the desk while she was absent.

  The three of them moved quickly down the tower and on toward the planning room. It was a route that Penelope could manage in her sleep. Indeed, while pretending to be asleep, she had journeyed there several times in furtherance of her plan to turn the Feast Hall into a prison for all of the incarnations of Lord Scanthax. They passed the Great Hall, and as they turned into the Feast Hall, Penelope couldn’t help glancing about her to check that nothing had changed. Could it be that Lord Scanthax had discovered her nighttime activities? Surely Ambassador would have said something to her before now. This peremptory call must be related to some other issue.

  Whatever anxieties Penelope had were dispelled at the sight of the planning room, which was full of Lord Scanthax’s most autonomous incarnations, looking toward their master and the large map hanging behind him:

  Lord Scanthax looked up as they arrived, jaw clenched, and with an expression of determination on his face.

  “Good. Let us begin.”

  He tapped the board, pointing to Gate Four.

  “Approximately three days ago, our garrison at Gate Four was attacked and completely destroyed. Among the bodies were four from Saga, a rather ominous proportion: nearly a thousand of our troops and an aircraft to four of them. A day later we killed a scout of theirs who got too close to Gate Three. Note that he was carrying magic items of the sort we have encountered in Myth.

  “Some time yesterday, our fort at Gate Three was attacked. The entire garrison was destroyed: just over three thousand soldiers, twenty-four tanks, eight machine gun emplacements, thirty troop carriers, and a fighter plane. The casualties on the part of our enemy consisted in the main of birds: thousands of common raptors, a dozen or so monster-size eagles, and one fantastical bird, twice the size of a tank. But we also found among the birds the body of the last member of the former ruling council of Myth sorcerers: Anadia.

  “On the Ruin side of Gate Three, we had stationed fifty of our best sniper units. As far as we can tell, they were all killed—probably by grenades—without inflicting a single casualty on those coming through the gate. We have pulled all the troops in Ruin back to Gate Two and so long as the tank factories are able to continue manufacturing tanks, all new units will be brought to the Epic side of Gate One, where we are amassing our greatest strength. In the meantime, two hundred and fifty scout planes have been sent to scour Ruin for signs of their fighting force. In summary, my assessment is a very disturbing one. A force from Saga—most likely a small one and certainly one without vehicles—somehow made contact with Anadia and gained the use of magic items such as the dagger and ring we found. Perhaps they are all equipped with items that make them invisible. They are considerably more powerful than our soldiers, and they seem to have an extraordinary defense against bullets. They pose a real threat to our control over all the worlds and indeed”—he paused dramatically, looking slowly around at the captivated audience—“our very existence. Comments and questions?”

  General was rubbing his hand across his firm chin and he now caught Lord Scanthax’s eye.

  “Lord. I think your first steps were necessary precautions, but I advise against leaving effective control over Gate Three in their hands. I accept that troops at Gate Four will be vulnerable to a sudden incursion from Saga, so we should only have a token force there. But I suggest sending one of us—Scout, perhaps—at the head of a light and highly mobile division with aircraft support to Gate Three and let me take two heavy divisions to Gate Two, staying on the Ruin side of it to trap their advance party between the two gates and to provide cover should the light division need to fall back.”

  “Good, General. I accept your points, with one amendment and one query. The amendment is that you should be stationed with the full army at Gate One and instead we shall use one of our junior officers for the two heavy divisions at Gate Two. The query is to Princess.”

  It was almost amusing to hear Lord Scanthax agree with General. Of course they would approve of each other’s ideas; they were aspects of the same person. But at the mention of her name, Princess jumped slightly. Whereas everyone else in the room was earnestly attentive, frightened even, she had been daydreaming. The information presented by Lord Scanthax was not at all disturbing to her; in fact, Penelope found that she welcomed it. If anything went wrong with the plan to trap all the manifestations in the Feast Hall on Redistribution Day, then Lord Scanthax’s fears were something to fall back on: perhaps he would become so desperate that he would agree to liberate her in return for her aid.

  “Princess, is there anything you can do to close Gate Four or Gate Three? Because right now our whole existence might depend on it.”

  A dozen heads turned as one to look at her.

  “No. I’ve explained this to you before. It’s not like we created something, like a door, that translated you to the other worlds. What we did was find physical spaces where the worlds overlapped and tore open holes. A door we could close or destroy. These holes we can’t fix, because the space around a gate won’t stretch. It’s like we made a hole in your breastplate there; or it’s worse, because even metal can be melted and reshaped, but I’ve no idea how to work with space. Well, all right, I suppose in the organic universe space bends around mass, but I don’t know if that applies to space in Edda, and anyway, we are talking about lots of mass—planet-size amounts.”

  It was slightly embarrassing that her answer had run on and on, a little erratically, certainly compared to the terse communication between Lord Scanthax and his manifestations. In part, it was because while she was talking, she had thought about her recent work in bonding different materials together and that it might have some relevance for closing a gate; that is, if she wanted to close a gate.

  “If you cannot disable the transference gates,” said Lord Scanthax, slowly and carefully, fixing upon her with the full intensity of his dark eyes, “can you then obstruct them?”

  “Certainly. That would definitely be worth a try. If you send me to a gate with Engineer, plenty of iron, and some welding units, I could assist in making a very solid structure. But you’ve seen
the energy weapons available to the soldiers of Saga; I’m afraid that nothing I can create would hold out more than an hour, say, if they came blasting at it.”

  Nodding as though he had expected this answer, Lord Scanthax maintained eye contact with her. “Then I ask you this: can you locate our assailants, the ones who are now probably somewhere in Ruin?”

  That was an interesting question, and Penelope hesitated. “No. I have no scripts better than the radar systems you inherited from Ruin. And while our best radar equipment can pick up airplanes and tanks, it is not accurate enough for a small force on foot.”

  Although her answer was a truthful one, Penelope did wonder. Could she script a detector that responded to the particular qualities of the material from which the Saga weapons were made? She wouldn’t have to understand the fundamentals of these exotic substances, but simply use the gun she had and see if it generated a distinct response when investigated by a script measuring various levels of electromagnetic radiation. While her thoughts were focused on the challenge of creating a device that could somehow pick out an echo from the heavy plastic they’d found in the gun, Lord Scanthax seemed to sag a little, as though discouraged. But could he really have held any real hope in her scripting skills? After all, he knew already that she could not close or seriously obstruct the gates.

  “Don’t worry, my lord. It will be another Tharsby Pass! We shall triumph against the odds.”

  Penelope had to resist the temptation to laugh aloud at this declamation; in fact, she pretended to cough in order to hide a snort that might have sounded disrespectful. As she looked around the room at the reaction to General’s attempt to strike a note of optimism, she saw sneers of contempt, sardonic eye-rolling, and a variety of scathing expressions. The situation was nothing like the infamous battle at Tharsby Pass or any battle they had ever fought in Edda and they all knew it. For the first time in their existence, they were fighting armies that were better equipped than their own. Armies? Not even armies, but forces too few to leave an obvious trail or be spotted from the air.

  “Trap them in Ruin and send me to hunt them.”

  The room went still, and Penelope no longer felt amused. Rather, a cold thrill ran down her spine and the hairs on her arm rose. It was so rare that Assassin spoke in meetings of this sort that at first she had not recognized the deep and slow voice. He was standing in the far corner of the room, a sheathed sword on his hip, a rifle across his back. Those were unique weapons that Penelope had scripted for him at Lord Scanthax’s request, back when she used to strain her utmost to please him. The blade was as hard as diamond. She was proud of the gun, too; she had worked for weeks on the explosive release of the bullet, not satisfied until it could travel a full kilometer and hit a target no bigger than an apple.

  For a moment Lord Scanthax looked like he might disagree with the idea, perhaps because he wanted Assassin to remain close to him. But the other manifestations were clearly pleased. They had enormous confidence in Assassin, who, after all, had eliminated more of their enemies by stealth than their armies had killed in battle. Perhaps he would be a match for these invisible and powerful invaders. Or perhaps not. Penelope wouldn’t like to bet against these mysterious people who could annihilate thousands of soldier units with minimal losses.

  “Good then.” Lord Scanthax eventually gave a nod. “Scout, take the fourteenth light division and liaise with Air Commander for six reconnaissance planes. Take up a position in Ruin by Gate Three. General, assign a major to the fifth and sixth heavy divisions and have them set up in Ruin by Gate Two, guarding in both directions. Go and take personal command of Army One on the Epic side of Gate One. Assassin, go and hunt for our enemies. Everyone else can assist me in strengthening the defenses of the castle.” He glanced at Princess almost as an afterthought. “Princess, continue working on those energy weapons. You know how much we need them. Are we in accord and clear?”

  Just as everyone murmured their assent and began to rise from their seats, Scout drew a deep breath.

  “Sorry, lord, I think my arm might be broken.” She winced as she spoke and Penelope felt a little guilty. But this sensation was immediately mitigated by the thought that it was Scout’s own fault. If she had not bullied Penelope into moving with an overdramatic gesture, the accident never would have happened.

  “You are commanding units, not scouting in person. Go have Doctor splint you up, then take up your duties.”

  “Very good, lord.” Scout left the room, with a last scowl directed toward Penelope.

  Almost as one, the manifestations rose from their seats, indicating that the meeting was over. Several of them moved directly to the door, so Penelope had to move quickly out of the way to let them pass. The stately and richly robed Chancellor did not give her a glance; he had begun a conversation with Engineer about the new priorities of factory output. Assassin walked past with a brisk stride that indicated his sense of purpose. Air Commander and Quartermaster stood aside to let him through, before hurrying after him. Along with his ever-present bodyguard, Executioner, and General, Lord Scanthax remained in the room. They were discussing which officer should be put in charge of the heavy divisions at Gate Two. Of all the manifestations, only Ambassador paid her any attention.

  “Well, Princess, shall we return to work?”

  “Yes, Ambassador, let us return to work.” He was sufficiently familiar with her ways to recognize the sarcasm. The point was to remind him that while she was working, all Ambassador did was stand still, watching her. Presumably, he was bored beyond belief. Or perhaps he just switched off in some way.

  Returning to her tower through the great halls and long corridors, Penelope’s step was a lot lighter than it had been on her anxious journey to the planning room. Lord Scanthax was worried, genuinely worried, and he had no idea of her nocturnal journeys to the Feast Hall in preparation for the redistribution ceremony. Circumstances could not be better for the realization of her plan to humble him.

  Chapter 21

  THE PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER

  That night, Penelope crept once again through the shadowy corridors of the castle toward the Feast Hall. Ever since she had discovered the secret door in the fireplace, her curiosity had been aroused. Strictly speaking, she probably did not need to explore beyond the door. In order to seal Lord Scanthax and his manifestations in the hall, all she needed to do was wait for the right moment and then weld it tight to the wall. But, she told herself, the more intelligence she had about Lord Scanthax the better. There was a risk—each time she traveled by moonlight to this part of the castle, there was a risk—yet every night since finding the door, as she lay her avatar down to bed, she had toyed in her thoughts with the idea of further explorations. In the end, the secret door had proved irresistible.

  The castle was quiet. With their decisions made, the various manifestations were off performing their duties. As a result, the planning room was not in use and none of the lanterns in the hallways leading to it were lit. Penelope liked the darkness—it hid her—and there was no difficulty in walking with her fingers gently running along the wall to keep her oriented in the blackest stretches of the corridors. In any case, she was soon at the halls, their windows on this cloudless night letting in plenty of silver moonlight to see by.

  It was only when she actually stood in the stone fireplace once more, touching the secret door, that Penelope felt nervous. What if someone was back there? Was it really worth risking the upset of her plans to satisfy her curiosity? Gently, very gently, she started lifting the catch, even before she realized she had come to a decision. The secret door moved a fraction, creating a gap of just an inch. It was dark beyond and there was no sound. Pushing the door open just wide enough to let her through, she stepped into the room beyond and then closed the door behind her. It was now completely black in the small chamber and it was easy to become confused about where the hole in the floor was. Rather than take even one step in that darkness, Penelope lowered herself to her hands and knees an
d shuffled carefully forward until her seeking fingers felt nothing but space. Still concentrating on making as little noise as possible—although her confidence was growing—Penelope found the rungs of the metal ladder and, holding tight to the top one, lowered herself carefully into the pit.

  After she descended about twenty steps, it seemed that there was a hint of light below her. She paused. A very faint but consistent humming sound was audible. Five more steps and it was definitely becoming a little lighter. She continued descending and was surprised when her foot could not find the expected rung. Instead, lower down, it touched what felt like the ground. Was she all the way down? Why was it still so dim?

  Looking around, Penelope found herself in a room about the size of her bedchamber. This was evident from several small blue lights, and their reflections in some kind of glass. More out of the corners of her eyes than by looking directly, she could see the outline of a very large desk on the far side of the room. The blue lights were all above the desk and as she edged closer she realized they were familiar from her room in the human world. When electrical equipment was connected to a power supply, a small light of exactly this kind was switched on.

  This was unexpected and rather bewildering. She had thought the passage would lead to a supply of weapons or to an escape route from the castle. Perhaps other exits did lead to a way out. But this room clearly had a purpose of its own. Her next step caused her avatar to stumble and she accidentally kicked a chair away from her, creating a horribly loud noise. At least she did not have to put up with the pain of her avatar’s stubbed toe. Holding on to the back of the chair to steady herself, Penelope paused for a minute, listening. Nothing. She waited for a while, until her calm was restored, and sat down.

  There were controls in the desk and, at eye level, some glass screens. Should she risk pressing some of the buttons? Of course she should; there was no way she could leave without finding out more about this mysterious place. Without dwelling on the risk that she might somehow set off an alarm that would bring Lord Scanthax running, her fingers pushed the nearest button. The screen flickered and came on with a hiss and display of static. Its brightness hurt her eyes and she looked away, taking in the fact that there were six seats lined up by the desk, each facing three large screens. In front of her, there was a control that had the same symbol for volume as her film-playing devices, and as she had hoped, Penelope was able to turn the hiss down to a whisper. A moment later, in response to her turning another switch, an image leaped into existence on the active screen. It was a rather dull gray picture of an empty corridor. Turning the switch to another position caused the picture to change: another corridor, this time with some rubble strewn along the floor. Realization hit her hard and she slumped back in the chair. So this was it. This was the room from which Lord Scanthax or his manifestations interacted with the human world. These weren’t recordings; they were live broadcasts of the corridors outside of her air lock. Which meant that . . .