Part 17 (1/2)
”Of course,” said Toby impatiently. ”The city lottery. But your eagle-”
”The city was a republic,” the Emperor continued, as if Toby hadn't spoken. ”A great republic, with winged and glorious G.o.ds. Yet when the city fell, the G.o.ds' fame fell with it. Even their names are forgotten.”
Toby and Flora exchanged looks. Both remembered the High Priestess's description of the cherubim: fallen G.o.ds of the Game's city.
”There were no courts then,” the Emperor continued, ”but four guilds, which ruled the city between them. And when the Game grew to greatness, and a temple was built in its name, each of the guilds dedicated an offering to the G.o.ds. The guild of farmers presented a bull; the guild of soldiers, a lion; the guild of priests, an eagle; while the merchants' guild brought forth a man. And each was slaughtered on the temple's foundations.”
Flora's eyes darted back to the torn body lying by the rocks. Her own flesh crawled. With such origins, no wonder the Game was so bloodstained.
”Like the G.o.ds they were given to, those first sacrifices are embedded deep within the Game. Here they endure-bull, eagle, lion, man-though in each round their form is a little different, their purpose new.”
The Emperor combed his beard with shaking fingers.
”Now, most worlds are round, like an egg, but the Arcanum is the great checkerboard. It is said the temple's foundation stones still rest at its corners. And you are set to renew the first offerings, and summon the G.o.ds of old.... Who knows what cataclysms will be unleashed upon our board?”
”That's a risk we have to take,” said Toby. ”Starting with Juno.”
He reached out a hand toward the bird, which spread its clanking wings, a span of at least eight feet, and snapped at him savagely. Toby flinched away just in time, as its husky cry rose to join the Emperor's wheezing laughter.
Flora pulled Toby aside. ”Slow down,” she said. ”There's no point making demands until we're sure of what we want. Remember the words of the prophecy: 'the fledgling of empire.' That means a chick. A baby bird.” She turned back to the Emperor. ”Excuse me, Your Majesty, but ... does Juno have a nest?”
The old man feebly pointed upward. ”She roosts on the mountain's peak and guards its flame.”
”There,” Flora said to Toby with only a trace of smugness. ”You see? We don't need Juno, but Juno's fledgling. So we have to find her nest.”
”Mmm-hmm. Onward and upward,” the Emperor mumbled. ”Onward, upward ...”
Toby followed Flora to the left side of the terrace, where a rough path wound farther up the mountain. Of course she was right about the wording of the prophecy; he was annoyed he hadn't thought of it himself. And yet ... He cast a final glance back at the throne: the doddering old man, the eagle preening its feathers, the scepter and orb lying in the dust like discarded toys. Something was niggling at him. But whatever the thought was, it remained tantalizingly out of reach.
The palace had been built on a wide spur of rock that jutted over the plain. Behind its ruined walls, the mountainside towered implacably upward, its summit shrouded in cloud. A dim glow smoldered within the vapor.
”Mount Doom, I presume.”
Flora pursed her lips. ”If your next remark involves hobbits, you're on your own.”
”OK. Last one to the top's an Orc!” Toby retorted cheerfully as he started on the path.
It didn't last long, meandering into a rough track that petered out among a scrubby patch of bushes. Soon the steepness of the slope forced them to climb at a sideways tilt, one hand clutching at the ground for balance, their skidding feet sending a scurry of loose stones rattling in their wake. Flora, who had wrenched her ankle before Christmas, found it particularly hard going. And it got worse. The rocks became more jagged and the bushes more spiny, and the thin soil was replaced with grit and ash. In spite of the cold wind and clouded sky, it was hot work. The higher they climbed, the warmer the ground felt beneath their feet, and a smell of sulfur began to taint the air.
When they finally clambered, breathless, to the summit, they found a scorched wasteland from which twists of vapor writhed and hissed upward. The air was thick with sulfurous heat; the cindery ground within was cracked with rivulets of molten red. Outcrops of rocks pierced the surface.
In the center of this wilderness was a tall tree, as jagged and black as the rock it grew from. One bough, however, right at the top, gleamed with gold. There was a th.o.r.n.y tangle perched on its tip; high above that, a shadow wheeled through the sky. Juno was circling.
To get to the tree would mean a deadly game of stepping-stones across the smoldering embers; to reach the nest would mean a dizzying climb through spiky branches, up to where Juno's beak and talons would be waiting.
”This is hopeless,” said Flora.
”But not impossible.”
Crouching down on the farthermost edge of solid ground, Toby stretched out a leg to the nearest rocky foothold, testing the distance. ”It's not actual lava, you know. There's a sort of ash crust keeping most of the heat in. And, look, I'm sure we could reach this bit of rock all right.”
”And where would we go from there? We'll either get boiled alive or torn up for bird food.”
Toby was ready to dispute this but somehow couldn't find the words, let alone the energy. His feebleness was more than just physical tiredness: the tainted air and stifling heat were making it hard to think. Instead, he got up to join Flora at the lip of the summit, looking out over the Emperor's dominion.
Seen from this height, it was vaster than either of them could have imagined. Apart from the mountain on which they were standing, the entire view was flat and featureless: barren rock curving away to the horizon, as far as the eye could see. Toby raised his hand to the sky, spreading his fingers and then clenching them, as if to grasp the world-a globe of gray in the palm of his hand.
And at this thought another one came to him: beautiful, s.h.i.+ning, perfectly formed. He laughed out loud.
”Flora! We're looking in the wrong place.”
”What do you mean?”
”Our baby bird isn't nesting on Mount Doom. It's been in the palace the whole time.”
”But the Emperor said-”
”He said where Juno's nest was. He didn't say anything about what we'd find in it.”
”What's your point?”
”You'll see,” he said maddeningly.
Before Flora could interrogate him further, he launched into a helter-skelter descent from the summit. She called after him angrily, but he ignored her and she had no option but to scramble behind him, and save her breath for the long climb down. It was quicker than their hike up, but not easier. Down they went, sliding and slithering among the dust and rocks and thorns, with grazed hands and bruised knees, grit in their eyes and stones in their shoes.
By now the sun was up, though it cast a poor, weak sort of light. When they finally reached the terrace, the ruined building looked less imposing than it had in the glimmers of dawn: its cla.s.sical portico was munic.i.p.al rather than palatial in style. Flora remembered the red rope around the treasure heap. On the other side of the threshold, she thought, there must be a museum where the relics of empire were more respectfully housed.
”Back so soon?” said the Emperor.
He was sitting up straighter, so that his chin was no longer slumped into his beard. For the first time, the remnants of strength could be traced in his profile, his proud hooked nose and fierce brows.
”We've come for that trib-tribute-you promised,” Toby panted before having to pause to get his breath back. ”Our eagle. This time, though, we know what we're looking for.” He pointed to the stone block on which the throne was raised, and the emblems of power at its side.
” 'Tis all a Checker-board of Nights and Days,”
the Emperor quoted in a voice of surprising firmness, ”where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays, Hither and thither moves and checks and slays.”
He bowed his head.
”A fitting tribute and wise choice. I shall be honored to make the offering to Your Majesty.”
Slowly and stiffly, the old man bent to pick up the golden bauble that lay next to his scepter. He put it into Toby's hands as Juno swooped back to perch at his side.
The imperial orb was much lighter than one might expect, and oval-shaped rather than spherical. Not a globe, but an egg.
Toby cupped it in his palms, feeling the cool sheen of metal. Juno gave a gentle caw. Toby dashed the egg against the floor.
The s.h.i.+ning sh.e.l.l split cleanly across, and rang against the stone. Inside, there was a miniature gold eagle, as motionless as metal should be, but otherwise a perfect replica of the living one.
Toby reached for the figurine, and the world changed. Everything had turned to black and white. He was standing alone at the edge of a marble floor that was also a chessboard. Through its squares he thought he could see the model battleground from his bedroom, come to shadowy life. Or maybe it was the board Mia had shown him in the Chariot, the landscape and its inhabitants shaken into yet more disarray. It was as if the entire world of the Arcanum was contained on these checkers of black and white.