28. MARTYR #2
She was right. That room with the strange heartbeat, where Ged had claimed the High Lord met the gods.
It held a Gate, a doorway through the Source, and Jacen had never realized it because he had not been taught what to look for.
Legend held that only those who bore demons could pass through the Source unscathed.
“There’s a Gate in the White Cathedral,” Jacen mused, then frowned. “That one doesn’t lead here, does it?”
“Of course not,” said Ogden. “Celes Lor’s Gate network is like a wheel. The hub is in the ruins of Zal Fel. Zivora is one spoke, and here is another. The Firstborn Empire is not aware of this particular spoke’s existence.”
“Seems incredibly risky to have a base here,” Seth opined.
“Not as much as you’d think,” said Urien. “Radiation levels and atmospheric conditions in the Scar make our surveillance instruments near-worthless.”
“Oh?” Jacen tried his utmost to assume the air of one mildly intrigued and not hopelessly baffled.
Seth had no such reservations. “Say that in Standard.”
“They won’t find the Gate,” said Ogden. “Spokes lead only to the hub, and to travel anywhere at all from the hub, one needs to have physically been there. Otherwise, their demons cannot know the path through the Source.”
Seth considered that. “Can’t they search the Source?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Jacen muttered. “Space and time are meaningless in the Source.”
If anything, that frustrated Seth more. He stood and began to pace down the pier.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a militiaman called.
“To take a piss,” Seth said, without looking back. “Or would you prefer I do it here?”
They let him be. Jacen struggled to do the same. Seth was a creature of logic, prone to disliking things that did not operate as such. The Source was a prime example, not to mention everything else afoot. Likely, he needed a moment or two alone.
Once Seth had disappeared around the riverbend, Nines turned toward Jacen. At first, her uncharacteristic insistence on eye contact confused him, but then he realized she wanted to talk. He offered a slight nod as he opened his mind to her.
There’s something else, she said. Can you sense it?
Jacen cleared his mind and reached past the Gate. In the distance, he perceived the denizens of the Shrouded City—thousands of them. He couldn’t make sense of the cacophony. He didn’t have anywhere near that sort of range and was about to tell Nines as much, but . . .
With impossible clarity, one mind surged above the rest.
A demon. Jacen had never sensed one like this—it had to be Naxal.
While most demons were difficult to perceive at a glance, Naxal was anything but hidden.
Now that Jacen had taken notice, it refused to let him look anywhere else, almost as distracting as the Gate itself.
As for the consciousness it inhabited . .
. Beneath the crushing weight of the thing inside his head, Neri Semira was an echo, an afterthought.
Jacen rubbed his forehead as though it might rid him of the discomfort. It’s strong. Stronger than anything I’ve ever encountered.
Nines seemed genuinely frightened. I don’t like it.
Jacen could not say he disagreed. But he had come all this way for a reason, and to turn back now would be unfathomable.
What are they going to do to us? Nines asked.
Hesaya won’t hurt you. Of that much, Jacen was confident. She understands.
You trust her, Nines observed.
I do.
She mulled that over. What am I supposed to do? I suppose . . . whatever you want.
She found the prospect perplexing, even a bit alarming.
But she said, I think I want to help. She hesitated.
I want to help so we can go back for everyone still trapped in the Cathedral.
I don’t want what happened to Daru to happen to anyone else.
To think her friend’s true name brought forth a surge of grief but also of warmth washing over both their minds.
After that . . . if we survive . . . I think I want to go home.
To the Fractured Peninsula? Jacen recalled the name from the archives. Kasoa. Do you remember it at all?
No. But I realized, on the boat here, that I wasn’t afraid of falling in the water. I know how to swim. A real smile lit her face. It’s not all gone. Have you ever tried to remember?
She seemed far more comfortable with psychic communication.
To Jacen, that made sense. Human beings were prone to obfuscating and exaggerating, putting on performances, saying one thing and meaning another.
In one’s mind, however, they could speak only truth.
I haven’t, he admitted. Until Elyas’s death, Jacen had believed in the righteousness of what had been done to him.
After that, he was rarely sober enough to consider the matter.
Now . . . I’m not sure I want to remember.
Nines didn’t try to argue. But she said, You speak Zal. I heard you, the first day we met. You weren’t allowed to learn it, but you did anyway.
He hadn’t hidden a blasted thing from this girl. He nodded. I think it was my first language. Suddenly, there was a lump in his throat. I suppose some part of me always knew.
Some parts of us . . . maybe they’re too connected to the rest, so it’s not possible to erase them without breaking something. Nines tilted her head at him. Does that make any sense?
It does. Jacen had yet to decide whether that was entirely a good thing, though, and Nines’ smile fell away as her thoughts followed a similar track.
I wonder if the Church is like that. If we try to cut it out, it would take too much with it.
Jacen had no response. When Hesaya returned, the question still nagged at him like a burr underfoot. With a heaviness in his soul, he rose to meet his fate.
They followed Hesaya through a maze of cramped sandstone tunnels. The four militiamen joined them as they left the docks, closing ranks around Jacen. Ogden and Urien came next, Seth trudging behind. Nines trailed at her own pace.
Jacen had the feeling of climbing through the bowels of some great stone beast, with some passages so low, he had to hunch.
His shoulders cramped. He lost track of the way but sensed with increasing certainty that they approached the Gate.
It was a dreaming, ageless thing. Its presence expanded, beckoning, and the atmosphere grew caustic.
Fear took root in Jacen’s mind. He had begun to work out what, exactly, these people might ask of him.
He finally asked, “Why are you taking us to the Gate?”
“The Source is our last remaining weapon,” Hesaya said. “Valak do not become valak unless they face the Trial of the Gate.” She paused. “Most of the time.”
“You mean to send me through,” Jacen asserted, very quiet.
“We lost one demon priest because of you,” said Hesaya. “Var Naxal has decreed that you can give us another or face the Source’s judgment.”
The words hit Jacen like a punch to the gut. When they stopped before a simple door, painted black, the corridor was spinning.
“Wait here.” Hesaya went through alone.
As soon as she’d shut the door behind her, Ogden said, “Hmm.” He scratched his beard. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Expect what?” Seth demanded. “What is the Trial of the Gate?” He tried to approach Jacen. The militiamen crossed their spears, blocking his way.
“It’s what Elyas did.” Jacen forced his mouth to move. “He walked into the Source, defenseless, and a demon chose him. If he hadn’t succeeded . . .”
“He would have faced judgment,” Ogden finished, when Jacen couldn’t. “Annihilation, most likely.”
“She said Neri ordered this?” Seth exclaimed. “This is insanity.” But Jacen heard himself say, “This is justice.”
“You cannot possibly be considering this.” Seth rounded on Ogden. The old man raised a bushy eyebrow. A question, and an irritated one. “And you—not one word? You’re just going to let them do this?”
“This is out of my hands,” said Ogden. “We all heard quite clearly. We enter the city in accordance with their customs, and this one is among their most sacred.”
“Since when do you care about sacred rituals? I thought you had no use for religion.”
“I have never said I have no use for religion,” said Ogden. “It has a great many uses. I have plenty of incentive to keep these people happy, and so do you.” He jabbed Seth in the chest with a bruising metal finger. “I recommend you find a way to cope, and quickly.”
Seth looked desperately to Urien. Nines was frozen in a way that would have made Jacen try to comfort her, had he not felt as if he floated somewhere far from his body.
Urien gave an apologetic lift of his shoulders. “You must understand why it’s not my place to question.”
Hesaya opened the door, depriving Seth of the chance to respond.
She addressed Jacen. “Follow me.”
Jacen’s hands shook, so hard he had to grip them together to make it stop.
But when he emerged into the open, he faltered in his tracks.
Had to recalibrate his sense of scale. The triangular chamber was so vast as to seem impossible, as though he’d stepped from a world of insects into one of giants.
Several layers of mezzanine soared up to distant skylights, motes of dust drifting through the dimness like blurry stars.