“We’re flying,” he realised, looking around to find himself in an oval-shaped cabin of some kind. Wide circular windows ran along the walls, affording a clear view of the mountains below. Not mountains, he thought, looking again as the summit of the structure passed beneath. It rose to well over a hundred feet in height, a greatly enlarged version of the buildings he had seen in the city beneath the mountain. It was connected by branching walkways to similar buildings on either side and they in turn connected to others so that the city resembled a jungle fashioned from stone. He could see people on the walkways, a great many people.
“Much can happen in two thousand years,” Kriz said, appearing at his side. From the smile on her lips it was clear she was enjoying his amazement.
“What is this?” he said, gesturing at the oval-shaped room. “A cable-car?”
“No.” She frowned, clearly struggling with an explanation, then shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough.”
The sound of laughter drew their gaze to the front of the room where a tall man and a little girl stood watching the city pass by below. They were both dressed in clothing that resembled the garb Kriz had found in the armoury, the white fabric contrasting with the darkness of their skin. Clay knew instantly they were father and daughter. It was there in the tall man’s gaze, the pride in his eyes and the indulgent smile on his lips as the girl pressed both hands to the glass.
“So many people, Father,” she said. “I didn’t know there were so many in all the world.”
The tall man hesitated before playing an affectionate hand through the girl’s short-cropped hair. When he spoke Clay heard Kriz murmur the words in unison, “So many people, Krizelle. And none so special as you.”
The room shifted then, Clay’s stomach lurching a little as whatever carried them aloft began to descend. It was less alarming than riding on Lutharon’s back but still disconcerting. He saw buildings and walkways slide past the windows, as the craft banked then levelled out. The little girl squealed and jumped in excitement at the sight of another building looming ahead, the tallest one yet.
The tall man placed a calming hand on the girl’s small shoulder, crouching to meet her gaze, his expression intent. “Do you remember what I told you, Krizelle?” he asked her, provoking a roll of her eyes.
“Don’t speak unless directly questioned,” she said, her tone rich in the bored annoyance of a child repeating a frequent lesson. “Do not lie, do not exaggerate, demonstrate only as instructed. There will be ignorant and angry people, ignore them.”
“Very good.” The tall man cupped her cheek and Clay saw how he strove to conceal his trepidation behind a confident grin. “This will all be over soon. Then we’ll get to go home.”
The little girl gave an aggrieved pout. “But I want to see the city.”
“You will.” The tall man pulled her into a brief embrace then took her hand, rising to regard the tall building which now filled the window. “But only for a little while.”
For a time it seemed they were about to collide with the building, but the speed of their approach soon slowed. The craft carrying them gently descended towards a circular platform extending from the tall building’s sloping flank. A slight bump indicated they had come to rest.
“Come along now,” the tall man said, clasping his daughter’s hand tighter as unseen hands levered open a hatch in the floor. A ladder was hoisted into place and the two of them duly climbed out, Kriz and Clay following close behind.
Once clear of the ladder Clay turned around and backed away, looking up to find a large bulbous object obscuring his view of the sky. He was obliged to retreat a good distance before gaining a full view of the craft. A two-deck gondola was fixed by means of a dense mesh of ropes below a large ovacular balloon. Protruding from either side of the gondola were two mechanicals, the rear of which was fitted with what appeared to be three-bladed fans. Clay immediately recalled Lizanne’s trance memory of the propelling mechanism she witnessed in Morsvale harbour. That had been used to push a ship through the ocean so it seemed reasonable to assume these would push this thing through the air.
“So your people have no aerostats,” Kriz observed, reading his expression.
“Heard of balloons being used to carry folk aloft,” he replied. “Seen pictures in books and such. Nothing like this though.”
“It was a recent innovation, truth be told,” she said, glancing back at the craft before turning her gaze towards the little girl and her father. “One of many, in fact.”
The pair were being greeted by a small delegation, all older people wearing more elaborate garb than Clay had seen before. There was a robe-like formality to the clothing that told him these were people of some importance, a fact confirmed by the sudden deference evident in the posture of the girl’s father.
“Were they your Board?” Clay asked Kriz, drawing a bemused frown. “The folk in charge,” he elaborated. “Y’know, like a government.”
“In charge?” she mused, starting forward as the delegation concluded their greeting and led the little girl and her father into the building. “Sadly, yes they were very much in charge.”
They entered the building through a tall pointed arch, proceeding along a wide corridor to a huge tiered chamber. It had a flat circular centre which gave way to a series of wide terraces which ascended to form a great bowl. There were a great many people sitting or standing on the terraces, with more crowding the flat space in the centre. The air was filled with a loud growl of energised conversation, all of which came to an abrupt end when Krizelle and her father followed the delegation into the chamber.
Kriz abruptly froze the memory, Clay turning to find her standing with her arms crossed tight over her chest, eyes closed. “Something wrong?” he asked.
For a second she said nothing, then murmured, “Don’t you think it’s a curse sometimes? This . . . thing we can do. Every memory lingering in your head, ready to be played out in all its detail. Aren’t there things you’d rather forget?”
“Sure. Then there are memories I never want to lose. That’s just what happens when you live a life.”
Clay resisted the urge to encourage her to restart the memory. Although he worried over how much Blue they had left, he also sensed she needed a moment to steel herself for whatever she was about to show him. Biting down on his impatience, he scanned the chamber, eyes roving over all the statue-like figures and finding a peculiar absence. No guards, he realised. These people were all dressed much the same as the greeting party, though the colours varied and some were much more elaborate. What struck him as most odd, however, was that no two people were dressed alike.
“No uniforms,” he murmured. “No guards. No need for a Protectorate here, I guess.”
“Protectorate?” Kriz enquired, the trance communicating her puzzlement at the concept.
“Army, police, soldiers. Folk employed to keep the peace, defend this place.”