Wheel of the Infinite by Martha Wells
I'm not as mad as all that.
Of course you're mad. You let this...thing destroy you.
Funny, I don’t feel destroyed. To do this we both had to be here, at their center.
"Maskelle?" someone said urgently.
She blinked and found herself facing Rian, who was watching her worriedly. "The Adversary," she said. How she was going to explain to him what the Adversary had done, she didn't know. She pushed it away from her now, fixing her mind on the image it had given her.
She split her awareness, the way she did when she used her spirit body. With her eyes she could see the relic of the living city, with her mind the image of what must really be here somewhere: the fragment of flooring with the second Wheel laid out on it, surrounded by the rocks and debris that filled the rest of the place. The Wheel would look like the fragment that had kept intruding on their Wheel, dark and dangerous, threatening storm and ruin. Storm and ruin are the symbols of this world.
The city in her eyes shimmered and began to dissolve.
The howling rose again, the angry wail of the creatures that had once been these people. Instead of distracting her, it firmed the picture in her mind and she remembered the dead smell of the chamber and the feel of the cold mist on her face. It was a battle of all their minds against hers, but she could feel she was winning. If I was that strong, we wouldn't be having this problem in the first place. The Adversary was helping her.
She could see two images now, the city and the chamber, cold and empty except for the debris and the Wheel. "Can you see it?" she asked.
"Not yet," Rian reported tensely. "But the picture is getting thin and flat. It doesn't look real anymore. I can see the walls of the chamber through some of the buildings."
She said, "Be ready. As soon as you see where it is, destroy it."
"Oh, that will make them happy," Rastim moaned. "What should we do to it?"
"It's only sand," Rian told him impatiently. "Just mess it up."
"Mess it up, all right." The veil didn't fall, it ripped abruptly. Suddenly they could see the chamber, the swirl of living clouds around them, the rocky floor torn apart by the endless motion of the air, and in the very center the section of lacquered wood floor and atop it the Wheel. Rian flung himself at it, Rastim gamely struggling after him. Maskelle started after them, awkwardly stumbling on the sharp edges of the broken stone.
Rian was almost to the edge of the wooden platform when he stopped abruptly and stumbled back. Rastim and Maskelle reached him a few moments later and Maskelle felt the invisible barrier, a hardening of the air around the Wheel. Rian swore and slammed his fists against it. "It's like the barrier they put around your room in the Palace that night," he said.
"No," Maskelle said grimly. "It's like the barrier around the Marai. This is the Adversary."
"Is there a way through it, like the one around the Marai?" Rian asked immediately.
"Probably not."
"Then... Now what?" Rastim asked helplessly.
Maskelle started to reply, but the howling of the winds was almost drowning their voices out. She looked back and realized there was a second barrier, this one around the outer edge of the chamber, preventing the creatures from reaching them. They flung themselves against the invisible barrier and she could feel their ravening hunger.
"Don't."
Ilian was standing next to her again. She said aloud, "I suppose you have a good reason that won't make any sense to me."
"You'll need it to get back home." He smiled.
She knotted her fists and wished she could hit him. "We're not going to get back home. We're going to die. You made sure of that."
Rastim muttered, "I'm glad we got that out in the open."
"It's here again?" Rian asked. Neither man would be able to see the Adversary in this form unless it wanted them to.
"It never left," Maskelle said, not taking her eyes off the Adversary.
Ilian stepped close to her and touched her face. His fingers felt cool. He said, "I have to remake myself. This isn't working. It's time for me to die, too."
It’s still mad, she thought. It can’t die. Humoring it, she asked, "Why didn't you do this before now? Why wait?"
"I needed them." It gestured around at the creatures clustering against the invisible wall. "This will take all their lives." It looked back at her, must have read her expression and explained, "It's for the best. They're broken. They died long ago and they don't know it. I'm broken too. I need to die." It shook its head, gave Ilian's familiar shrug. "It's time to try something different. The next Adversary needs to be a spirit that was once human, like the other Ancestors. Then it won't need a Voice like I needed you."
She shook her head. Is it serious? "That's why you did this? So you could use them to destroy yourself?"
It stepped back, its expression turning angry. "You know why you don't want to trust me? Because I'm you. You've given me all your fears, all your pain, all your little betrayals. You can't trust me because you can't trust yourself."
"All right." She turned away from it. "Stop." She buried her face in her hands, searching for calm. "You say you want to remake yourself and you'll kill these creatures to do it. Why didn't you say this before?"
Ilian's hands rested on her shoulders. "They would have heard me."
She took a step away, shaking him off. She didn't know what Rian and Rastim were making of all this. She said, "What's stopping you?"
"I need your help." When she turned to look at him. He shrugged, with an apologetic expression. "And I need another body."
"A dead one?" she demanded. "You should have thought of that earlier."
"This is getting worse all the time," Rastim commented to Rian.
"Not dead," the Adversary corrected her gently. "Living. Living is always better. Rian—"
"No!"
"It won't hurt him. It'll just be for a moment." Ilian's brows lifted. "You trust me with yourself, but not with him?"
"I don't trust you with myself, either!"
"What is he saying?" Rian demanded. "I heard him say my name."
"Nothing," Maskelle snapped.
"What did he say?" Rian repeated.
"I wouldn't harm a life from my world," Ilian said.
"You wouldn't?" Maskelle demanded. "What about Veran, what about Igarin? And Mirak and the others Marada killed or used. You could have prevented their deaths and you did nothing."
"And for that I deserve to die. 'Those who are pleased to hurt living beings are to be punished without mercy.'" Ilian stepped forward and took her hands. "So let me die."
Maskelle felt it touch her mind again and suddenly she was seeing the Adversary as it saw itself. It was a pattern in the Infinite like the Wheel, but its symbols were far more complex and their attachment to the real world was only tenuous. She saw it hadn't been lying to her; there was a section of the pattern missing, torn out as if by force, leaving an empty darkness in its place.
It was in the same place as the dark blot in the Wheel of the Infinite. That wasn't a reflection of Marada's Wheel. It was a reflection of this one, of the Adversary itself. It was a warning, an appeal for help.
It made a terrible sense. If this had happened when the Voices had tried to close the Aspian Straits to prevent that long ago invasion, if they accidentally sent the Sakkaran cities away, they had sent part of the Adversary with it. It hurt, she realized, a deep pain, an injury that never healed. It had allowed corruption to creep in; if it had been whole, Marada and her people would never have been able to enter the world. The Wheel of the Infinite had done this to the Adversary, and the Adversary would never have used the Wheel again if it hadn't absolutely had to.
And this, she reminded herself, could all be a lie.
"Is it helping us or not?" Rastim asked, frightened by what he had heard of Maskelle's half of the conversation.
She said slowly, "It needs help. It's been damaged, and it needs to die, so it can remake itself."
They both stared a
She shook her head. "It needs them. It's going to kill them all and use their power to do this."
Rian hesitated. "Then what's it waiting for?"
"It also needs my help, and it needs to be inside you for a moment."
Rian stared at her. "What?"
"Sorry you asked?" Rastim breathed.
Rian looked confused. He looked at the Wheel, past the barrier they couldn't break, and then at the creatures that were howling for their blood around the perimeter of the chamber. It was obvious they were running out of time. "Is that... Should I do it?"
He must have seen the anguish on her face, because he said immediately, "I'll do it."
The Adversary waited, and Maskelle closed her eyes. There was no other choice. It brought us all to this point solely for this. I can stop you, she told it. All I have to do is refuse. I can pay you in kind for everything that you did to me.
I've accepted my failure, it replied with brutal truth. Accept yours. Forgive me. Or forgive yourself; it's the same.
She opened her eyes and felt the tears. "I can't."
Ilian was watching her gravely. He gestured to the clouds of dust and hate, all that were left of their enemies. Look at them. His expression sour, he shook his head. Trapped in the past. Is that what you want? I'm a mad, damaged spirit, and I choose death over that. What do you choose?
She looked at them. "Not that."
Then let it go. Let me go. Is that it? Maskelle wondered. I don’t want to let the Adversary die? It had been there all her life. Hate, love; after so many years strong emotions blended into each other. Should she hold the Adversary like these creatures were held, trapped by memory and old pain? And condemn not only yourself to death, but Rian and Rastim too? Let it go. Let me go. "Then go."
Ilian vanished and the Adversary flowed into Rian's body. He looked startled, stepped toward her, then started to collapse. Maskelle stepped forward and caught him, feeling her legs tremble. The Adversary hadn't been in a real body before, only Gisar's wooden one, and the effort it was taking to dampen its power, to keep from hurting Rian, was terrible. This has to be done quickly, Maskelle thought desperately. She felt that it needed more contact between them to make this work. Holding Rian as tightly as she could, she kissed him.
All sound stopped and she could hear nothing, feel nothing. She felt the Adversary poised on the brink and thought, Please don’t let it betray me.
No, it told her, all that is over with.
"We can make a bargain," the creatures said again. Melded with the Adversary, Maskelle could hear their individual voices, keening, inhuman. "We can give you—"
I don’t bargain with otherworld demons, the Adversary said as Maskelle felt it flow through her. I eat them.
***
Someone was shaking Maskelle's shoulder. She opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar face leaning over her. It was a young face, a girl's face, no more than thirteen or fourteen years, with brown Kushorit skin and features, but the hair tumbling down around her ears was light brown, and her eyes were green. In a light voice, she said, "Is this my temple? Is it supposed to look like this? Do I have to stay here?"
Maskelle closed her eyes briefly. Ancestors, he did it. She said, "No, yes, and no. Help me up."
A strong hand under her arm hauled her to her feet. Maskelle looked around, trying to get her bearings. The great chamber was empty, silent, still. They're gone, dead, every one, she thought, still taking it in. Rian still lay sprawled unconscious nearby. Rastim was just climbing to his feet. "They're gone," the Ariaden said, baffled. "How did—And who's that?"
To the girl, Maskelle said, "Wait here," and went to kneel by Rian. She touched his face anxiously and his eyelids fluttered, but his breathing was shallow.
"I can fix that," the girl said. Maskelle looked at her anxious face. "Can you?" When the Ancestors had been in human form they had all been great healers.
"I know how. My father told me."
Her father. For the first time Maskelle let herself feel the emptiness at the core of her being. For the first time since all those years ago in Rashet when it had first spoken to her, the Adversary was gone, truly gone. When she had been under the curse, she had thought herself cut off from it, but it must have always been there, an undercurrent flowing through her own thoughts, even if it hadn't spoken aloud and denied her the visions. Now she knew what its absolute absence really felt like. "Go ahead."
The girl looked down at Rian, concentration making her childish brow furrow. She held out one hand and Maskelle felt a surge of pure power as strong and sharp as when she had drawn lightning from the sky. It hadn't come from the temples, it had come from inside the girl, where all the power of what had been the Adversary was now stored. Maskelle blinked and shook her head.
Rian drew a sharp breath suddenly, though he didn't wake. He was already less pale.
"All fixed," the girl said happily.
Nervous, Rastim asked, "Is he all right?"
"I think so," Maskelle whispered. She brushed the sweat-soaked hair back from his brow.
Rastim stripped off his tunic and handed it to her. "For my sake?" he asked, his tone pleading, nodding toward the girl.
"What?" Maskelle took the garment automatically, staring at him. "Oh, yes." She handed it back to the girl and said, "Put this on."
She held it upside down, looking it over curiously. Rastim took it away from her, saying, "No, here," and managed to get it over the girl's head and far enough down that she caught on and pulled it the rest of the way on. "Who is she?" Rastim demanded again.
"She's what's left of the Adversary. It remade itself into her." Rian stirred a little, then grabbed his head and muttered,
"Ow."
The girl tugged on her sleeve. "It's happening."
"It's happening," Maskelle repeated vaguely. The Marai, the Wheel, sunset. "It's happening! Come on." Maskelle dragged Rian's arm over her shoulder and hauled him up, panic giving her the strength.
Rastim helped support him from the other side, asking tensely, "What do we do?"
"Climb up here," Maskelle explained, planting her foot on the fragment of wooden flooring carefully. "Don't touch the Wheel."
"I could fix," the girl said helpfully.
"I know you can, but not just now." With Rastim and the girl's help she got Rian up on the flooring. Maskelle sat down heavily, pulling his head into her lap, Rastim crouching on one side of her and the girl on the other. There was just enough room for them. "Everyone watch their fingers and toes," she breathed.
She could feel it coming, like an immense heart about to beat. Rastim started to say something, then time paused and stilled, silence filling the void. Then silence rushed away and Rastim said, "When is it going to..."
Scents flooded in first, incense and warm damp air. The roar of a faraway crowd, the chamber suddenly much smaller, only a few feet larger on each side than the wheel. Maskelle found herself staring at an exquisitely carved Kushorit hunting scene with warriors and nobles mounted on elephants, and a wicked-looking tiger stalking through wooden trees. They were in one of Chancellor's Mirak's rooms in the Celestial Home.
"...begin," Rastim finished.
Chapter Eighteen
Rian would never have thought the hot damp air of Duvalpore would feel good, but now it was as welcome as a cool breeze.
They were at a trader's post on the very outskirts of the great city, outside the outer wall and across one of the barrier canals. Rian was sitting on a fallen log near the cold firepit while Rastim lay on one of the grass mats nearby. The post was mostly empty, with all the traders inside the city for the festival. They had a good view of the wall across the water, with the heavy vines creeping up stone stained red and gold by the sunset, and the high domes of the temples floating above it in the evening mist. The Ariaden's wagons were drawn up under a cluster of tall palms, and the actors were all mostly aslee
No one seemed to be aware of the change except for those who had been in the Marai and experienced it. As soon as Maskelle had spoken to the guards and servants still present in the Celestial Home, it was obvious that those two days spent in that strange place had gone by in a heartbeat for everyone left behind in the city. Fortunately there was no one in the place of a high enough rank to demand an explanation from the Voice of the Adversary as to what she was doing in Chancellor Mirak's private quarters.
Maskelle had commandeered another boat from the Palace docks so they could return to the Marai. Once there she had gone inside and sent out the other Ariaden, and Rastim had hurried them back to the guesthouse to collect their wagons and the rest of the group and then they had worked their way out of the crowded city. That was earlier today and Rian hadn't seen her since.
The Ariaden were still confused, and Rian and Rastim hadn't had much time for explanations for them; Rian still wasn't sure he understood what had happened himself. It was a little hard to comprehend that a few hours ago they had been trapped in a limbo with the whole world at stake, and now they were sitting in a trader's post in the warm twilight waiting for Maskelle to return.
Rastim, who must have been thinking along much the same lines, commented, "Hard to believe it wasn't all a dream."
"Well, we do have some evidence," Rian said wryly. They both looked at the girl. Going to have to think of a name for her, he thought. She had been wandering along the edge of the treeline, investigating the flowers and ferns and admiring the insects and birds. As the twilight lengthened, she had come back to where he and Rastim were sitting. Rian thought she was watching the barges and boats go down the canal, but now she edged closer to him and seemed a little nervous.
He asked, "What's wrong?"
She gestured at the colors streaking the darkening sky. "Is this supposed to happen?"
He looked up at Rastim, who shrugged his bewilderment. Rian asked, "Is what supposed to happen?"
She pointed up again. "That. The light going away."