Chapter 18

The geometry was wrong. The eight soaring arches departing the column before him neither soared high enough, nor traveled broadly enough for this to be the central column of the building. Before him, at chest height, was set a golden-colored stone, one of eight set with an curved face to make the two-yard wide column. On the face of the stone, in black lacquer, with lacquer removed to let the gold color underneath shine through, was depicted a curious symbol. Eight inches long, it depicted of a short rod with a cube attached to the end. The rod and faces of the cube were traced with a number of curious symbols or letters McAllister did not recognize. The shape reminded him instantly of the priest Auben's mace, the symbol of his office.

Still, the feeling of something wrong, of an incomplete puzzle nagged at McAllister. There was no sense of anything from or within that colored stone, and the lack bothered McAllister. He glanced at the others in the party, the students seemed bored and uninterested in yet another architectural detail, but the two men with the cloth headgear seemed excited, whispering quietly with each other. Their guide seemed to watch them closely, but not in any way suggesting dire concern.

From the stick talisman tied to his blouse, McAllister felt a similar perplexity. The brooch gave him no feedback, as if Sable were busy, too busy to notice McAllister's confusion. Just as McAllister was about to turn and estimate the distance from the outside wall of the palace by the shape of one of the eight arches, he found himself having a conversation.

"Make polite noises and ooh and ah," the Mother said to him in her silent way, and McAllister nearly jumped. "Don't make it obvious you've noticed this isn't the center of the building. The staff watches for that. As soon as you can, make polite thanks, and wander out of the building. Don't rush, or even walk purposefully. Act like you've been overawed with the building."

McAllister asked quickly, "You'll be here when I leave?"

There was a sense of laughter. "Yes. I'm allowed one conversation with you ... but no one has said how long that one conversation may be."

The cryptic words troubled McAllister, as he stayed to listen to the two strange dark men ask excited questions, and the bored students ask questions the guide must have heard a hundred times before. "How much force on each block?" returned the patient answer of "A half a million tons", and even McAllister was impressed.

Slowly, then, McAllister made his way out of the Palace of Architecture. His military eye picked out six armed guards and four apparently unarmed persons watching the pair of be-turbaned men who were still loudly speculating of what might happen if the golden stone block were removed.

Outside again at last, McAllister immediately set off towards the brothel. "Have you heard my earlier words?" he asked in the soundless manner.

"No. Above you, you've created quite a stir. The factions of the gods are in turmoil, and there's much agitation. I am censured, for having an undead as a paladin, for giving my paladin as much autonomy and strength as you possess, for having convinced both Bronze and Stilbe to create paladins, for forming this alliance I have formed and aggressively spreading my worship, and for allowing the artifact of power you carry to flourish."

McAllister said nothing for several long minutes, as his lengthy stride covered the city streets. "I cannot ask you for assistance with freeing Sable?"

"No," and the Mother's 'voice' was tinged with great regret. "You're on your own, I'm afraid. I've told the congress of the gods in their forum you and Sable were leaving this plane. That's why Shan Hu is with Sable. The others are mostly waiting to see how this all plays out, though some harbor you ill will for disturbing either their rest or their plans and plots."

The Mother sounded amused then. "Though, Bronze challenged those who wish you ill. He didn't offer to defend you. Instead, he offered to bring them to you one by one, and step aside so you could 'instruct them most diligently'."

McAllister snorted. "Bronze ... I think he can learn, but I don't have the patience for him," and the Mother laughed into his mind.

"The greatest number of the gods are taking a 'wait and see' approach to Sable's situation. You should know Shan Hu is learning magecraft, from the library in the place they are kept in, and his captor is actively helping him. This disturbs the peace of mind of the gods also, for they dislike powerful mages almost as much as they dislike sorcerers such as you. The situation can't last forever. There are gods who are reluctantly keeping the gateway to Hell guarded against the demon we expect to try for Sable. That's another reason they're vexed with me, but Sable is well-protected while they guard."

McAllister was glad of the distance he walked, as it helped him collect his thoughts. "You can see the future in your Crone form," he asserted, "or I misunderstood the Oracle Huídào described."

"Even to such as me, McAllister, in all my forms, the future is only a dim mist of possibilities. Now that we're well down the path I've set us on, I can only see potentials far ahead." She gave McAllister a moment to digest this. "From here, if you are able to retrieve the rod, you cannot expect divine assistance in traveling to St. Raphael, or after, to Sable. I imagine events will begin to happen quickly once you pierce the Basilica, as I'll have gained another substantial measure of power, and the gods will react to the changed situation."

"The gods here, of this nation? What say they of what I do here?"

"Be careful, McAllister. They are strange to me, with the faces of beasts, or many arms, and they have a different notion of what is proper. I couldn't assist you in a conflict with them, or it would mean warfare amongst the gods, and this plane would suffer greatly."

"I can't say I admire their stewardship of their nation, Mother. There are millions living in muck and mire with little hope of leaving it, and I see injustice. The very existence of this city-above-a-city irks me greatly."

There was a sense of resignation from his patron goddess. "Do that which you must, McAllister, and I will support your actions, but please don't do more than that which you must. A very great deal is riding on your comportment."

McAllister felt the sense of her presence leave him, and he stood on the steps to the house he was lodging in, looking out over the upper city towards the ocean for a great while.

"Soon," the waif-like Madam of the brothel said to McAllister, "Soon there should arrive a guest at this place that you should speak to."

McAllister had been exercising in the back yard of the brothel. The oddity of his appearance combined with the oddity of his exercise brought the working girls to the rail of the covered corridor to watch.

He had a female audience from the houses across the street, too.

"If you would introduce him to me, I would be grateful," McAllister said, then, while running through the manual of defenses his sword-master had taught him back in Wellesley's (the future Duke of Wellington) retinue, running though for the fifth time.

"Here," the Madam said, handing him a damp towel. A slight touch of her fingertips on his tricep, and then she ran her hand down his bare torso to his rear.

McAllister gave her a grin. "Soon," he replied, and mollified for the moment, the Madam left.

McAllister spent the day in the kitchens, watching the cooks work, and then moved to the library. He was reflecting on the differences in language and the similarities in food when he was disturbed.

"I understand you are seeking introductions."

McAllister looked up sharply, at the small man in shadow, wearing nondescript gray silks, though of a fine pattern and weave. In the lamplight, McAllister gleaned only an impression of dark, intelligent eyes, and a general impression of precise, conservative motion.

"I am McAllister," he said, slowly.

The other seemed to regard him gravely for a moment. "You may call me Aditya Mitra." He spent a moment more watching McAllister, and when the Scot did not react, he continued. "You have need of a service or require something not available through ordinary means?"

"I must get close to the Rod of Irel. I have studied the Palace of Architecture, and I am convinced it is deep below the level of the street, and not in the chamber where they say it is." McAllister was prepared to kill the man across the table from him should he react badly.

"You ask a great deal, and you have seen a great deal about that place. Yes, there are eight false chambers, and a real one far below the surface. It is difficult to get into the Palace of Architecture, and more difficult to find one's way once inside, and away from the display halls."

"I needed the best," McAllister said, cautiously.

"I ... can introduce you to the best," was his answer. "Allow me a few days, Northerner, and I shall assemble what you need. May I inquire as to your purpose in that chamber?"

Nodding, McAllister agreed. "There is the rub. I must convince the Rod to concede an old magical working it was used for, to end the spell of constancy worked with it, at a place far away, before ever it came here. Or, failing that, I must seize it, though I know not how the thing may be accomplished."

Aditya stared at McAllister. "If you must make the attempt at seizing it, warn me so I may have some hours to be far away. What can be driving you to such folly?"

With a shrug, McAllister answered. "My true love is a captive, held across the world. I have the overwhelming majority of the gods of this world wishing I would fail, some actively opposing me, all of Hell after me, and I do this for the service of one goddess. She and some others, I count friend."

"I have dealt with religious fanatics before," the other said, "though you do not seem like such as they. I have found that sort to be louder, and rash, out to make a name for themselves."

McAllister snorted. "There were two men, loud and talkative, that seemed to want to make a name for themselves visiting the Palace when I was there yesterday. It seems a common enough desire to want this thing."

The other nodded. "Thank you for that telling me that. It should make this thing easier, if we point them at the false chamber and give them enough aid to make the attempt. That should draw attention far from where we shall make ingress."

"'We'? You'll work to help me, then?" McAllister said with surprise.

"Your stated intent is not to steal the thing outright, but to negotiate with it? I did not know that was a possibility, as the device is known far and wide for binding and obduracy. I think I should like to watch that discussion." He regarded McAllister levelly. "Though, my aid is not without price."

"I have some gold," McAllister admitted, slowly, watching the other in his turn.

"That, too," the other said, "but I shall want to know more about you, so I may name a fairer price later. The gold I shall need to make the way smoother, though I have some of my own I may use ... McAllister, you intrigue me greatly, and you have impressed our hostess Shyama Parvati immensely. She is, in large part, why I am offering to assist you." He appeared to reflect for a moment, then, "Beware of that one," he laughed, "for she shall have you in her bed, and she shall attempt to keep you there by arts magical."

McAllister nodded. "I had not known her name, thinking she kept it secret as part of some game. It is perhaps cruel of me to lead her on so, for I have no intention of staying in this city after I visit the nadir of the Palace of Architecture."

The other, still in shadow, nodded. "Then between you and me, McAllister," he said with great sincerity, "you should know that I have held her in some esteem for a very long time."

"Ah," McAllister said, then. "I think we have an understanding, Aditya."

Two days later, Aditya joined Shyama and McAllister after supper again. He unrolled a sheaf of parchment across the table, and McAllister and Aditya began to trace routes through the Byzantine maze. No one asked how Aditya obtained the plans.

"Here, on the third level above ground, is a shaft which drops us to the sixth underground level. It has the look of an oubliette. We shall need rope," McAllister murmured. In his hand, he held the carved-stick talisman, oriented to examine the maps. Aditya and Shyama observed this, but said nothing, though McAllister could feel Shayama's curiosity almost as a tangible thing. It was yet another thing to add to the catalogue of such things about him that intrigued the woman.

Aditya was aware of Shayama's curiosity also, and McAllister pretended there was no tension in the air.

"I mislike this corridor," McAllister said, pointing at what appeared to be a broad corridor, offering to move them deep inside the maze that was the sixth subterranean level. "It seems too ... direct for the builders of this place. The parchment is different, also, and the hand and pen drawing this do not match the rest."

"We should try it," Aditya said, "but with caution, and be prepared to abandon it if it is defended."

"I still mistrust it," McAllister said, and began to note the turns needed through the maze for an alternate path. From under Aditya's dark hair came the white flash of a smile.