Strength of Stones (14 page)

Until now, Reah had never grasped the true size of the city. Her eyes were lost in the complexity of transports and parts gathering in rows on the assembly floor. As she watched, even the transepts began to come down, supported by new-spun cables and the cooperative limbs of lower sections. Hand-by-hand, slung from webs, walking and rolling and even flying, Resurrection spread itself out on the grasslands, moving its perimeter of spines and pushing back Durragon's army. But the time would come, Reah knew, when the spines themselves would disassemble, and she would have to rely on the uncoordinated mobile defenses to keep the men from breaking through.

The insect buzzed on her shoulder and she tapped its head.

"This unit cannot locate the wounded suppliants," the coat-rack said. "The architect has been informed they are missing, but all faculties are now concentrated on moving and outside defense."

Reah looked away from the assembly floor. "Bring me a quick corridor transport and join me here. We'll look for them ourselves."

Ezeki peered into chamber after chamber, trying to find something which by any stretch of conjecture would serve the purpose of a command center. The city had to have one -- but where?

Belshezar came running after him. "Musa Salih says the city is taking itself apart," he said, out of breath. "I think it's getting ready to move."

"There's no control center down here. It must be up near the tower -- and that's where she is, too."

"No, she isn't. The tower's already come down. There's nothing to do except leave, if we can."

Ezeki shook his head. "We can follow it, wait until it reassembles."

"It won't! Cities go to the mountains and die."

"Not if they have someone rational behind them."

"But the woman isn't rational. She's insane."

Ezeki took a last look into a small storage room and shrugged. "What good is coming here at all, then? She's won."

Belshezar grimaced. "No. I can take us to the upper levels, just below the tower. Most of the promenades are still standing. If we can find a control drum like the one Durragon captured, it may tell us more."

Musa Salih strolled into the entrance archway, smoking his crusted pipe. He watched with amusement while Ezeki tried to query a cube similar to the one which had followed the woman. "It doesn't talk," he told them as the device walked off on its interrupted business. "It must just be a relay, a messenger."

Musa pointed with his pipe-stem. "Gentlemen, Breetod is trying to throw a stone over the outer barrier, but it keeps shifting. He's very angry. He wants to get a message to Durragon. That'll keep him busy, but what are we going to do?"

"Follow me," Belshezar said. Musa glanced at Ezeki and they walked after him.

"One unit reports they are leaving the lower levels," the coat-rack said. "They seem to be looking for you."

"Good. Then we'll wait." She felt for the knife in her robes. The coat-rack suddenly trembled and halted. She turned to look at it. The insect buzzed off her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"A failure -- "

The floor buckled and jumped beneath them. A few meters from where they stood, in the broad vehicle corridor below the assembly hall, the walls gapped and groaned. A ramble echoed around them, followed by an ear-splitting squeal. The floor tilted and Reah fell on her hands and knees. The coat-rack rolled and toppled. As she began to slide, her hands struggled to get a grip on the floor. The cracks in the walls and ceiling grew. Fluids from ruptured city parts cascaded through the cracks, steaming and throwing up mists of alcohol.

Reah rolled over on her back and flattened out. As she watched, one whole section of a side tower separated and arced over, collapsing as it fell. The entire city seemed to be roaring. She blocked her ears with her hands, then put them on the floor again to keep from sliding. The end of the corridor was open to the air now. Across the gap she could see flying debris and a rising cloud, and beyond that remnants of the tower leaning against an outer ring of the city, swaying crumbling and falling.

The coat-rack flexed to right itself, then started rolling. At the last, it tried to flatten its arms and stop but it disappeared over the edge of the floor. For seconds the city was quiet. Reah lay with mouth open, a pain in her knees, her head vibrating with echoes of the scream.

Then the alarms went off. Automatic voices urged occupants of apartments to remain calm. The whole city was frantically murmuring and warning and relaying damage information. Reah crawled out of the way of a transport. It tried to block off the corridor but instead, with a grinding of treads, made the floor dip farther and sailed off into the pit.

After several minutes, the buttresses and supports far below made a titanic effort and what was left of the tower sorted itself into temporary equilibrium. Reah felt this as a shiver and a slow, elevator-like rise. Then the corridor was level and she stood experimentally, almost collapsing because of the trembling of her knees.

Reah could guess what had happened. Some of the weaker structures, unable to rely on totally dead parts, had collapsed and taken the side tower with them. Moving the city had been a calculated risk in the first place, and now the risk had come due. "How much?" she asked herself. "How much is lost?" Then, standing on the jagged rim of the floor, she began to weep.

Ezeki's arm hung broken by his side. He howled into the dust and gloom, cursing God, cursing his mother and father, cursing all who had helped him stay alive in the past -- anyone who had contributed to the present horror. Breetod, Belshezar and the Chasers lay under head-high mounds of squirming, green-bleeding rubble. Musa Salih was nowhere to be seen. From all around, fine mists of choking fluid filled the air, and sounds of screaming matter tortured beyond structural endurance.

As the noise subsided to the distant buzzing of alarms, Ezeki sat on a fallen column with a shuddering breath. Then he took his hand away from his forearm and looked at the skin. The bones weren't protruding. If necessary, he could set it himself -- not very well, perhaps, but enough to stay alive and heal.

And -- if the whole city hadn't just died -- perhaps he had an advantage now ...

"Who's there?" someone called. "Is anyone alive?"

It was Musa Salih. "Here," Ezeki shouted. "El and Hell, I'm an old man and I don't want to see any more of this shitful life."

Salih appeared out of the gloom, wiping dust from his face and smiling broadly. "That was something, wasn't it?" he said. "Looks like the woman overstepped her bounds. This city is too old to move."

"I've broken my arm," Ezeki said.

"I think the hospital is still there. Here, walk with me." Hanging on to Salih's shoulder, Ezeki climbed over the low mounds of debris into the clean corridors of the intact lower levels. "What fell?" he groaned.

"I don't know. Everything is frantic. Workers running everywhere, going crazy. Voices, ghosts, Prophet's beard! It's a nightmare. From Paradise to -- hey! I'm scratched on the hands and feet and you have a broken arm. What about Breetod and the others?"

"Dead," Ezeki said.

"City has to fix us up again. Let's go."

In the quiet, cool green rooms of the hospital, Ezeki lay on a soft bench and closed his eyes. The net of medical tools closed over him. Something burst above his face, a flash of pulsating green, and he fell asleep.

Musa watched without expression as his hands and feet were treated. Life was too ironic for words, so he said nothing and thought nothing. No matter what man attempted, Allah was the only victor. And what did Allah win? Nothing but the satisfaction of holding and throwing the die...

"Can the city recover?" she asked the homunculus. The screens and projectors were relaying information from the architect's remaining sensors. The apartment's information center couldn't compare with the control room in the now-dismantled central tower, but for the moment there was nothing else available. She felt half-blind.

"There is much damage, but mostly in areas already dead or dying. This may save time clearing dead units, in fact. Your worker was destroyed?"

"Yes. Only the flying thing is left."

"A new unit will be assigned to you. There were intruders killed in the fall. Two are alive. Medical units are tending to them. Pardon. Thinking interference -- "

The homunculus faded and turned to purple, a color she hadn't seen before. "Evaluation of city net viability -- "

Then to green.

"Construction coordinator. An emergency survey vehicle is being readied for the City Manager. The architect will act as interface. As of now, the functions of religious coordinator, central teaching authority, metabolism authority, ComNet authority have been terminated. City motion authority is in command."

Then back to red.

"The city manager will please follow a projected guide to the emergency vehicle." Reah nodded and looked around. A male figure emerged from the wall and motioned for her to follow.

Near the ground level, a vehicle mounted on treads, with a large cab and attendant workers stored in recesses in the outer skin, rolled up beside her and stopped. It bounced slowly on shock absorbers. It was smaller and lighter than most of the transports and obviously not made from the same organic material. She followed the projection up a short flight of steps into the cab and found a comfortable, form-fitting seat. On the arm-rests were finger-cups and three black retinal projectors hung just above the level of her eyes. She fitted her fingers, looked into the guide-lights and --

_She was the moving city._

Durragon waited and watched expectantly. If the city was crumbling, perhaps the barricade would be breached and his soldiers could pour in. Victory was so close he could smell it. He smiled and patted his mount. "I'll command your brothers," he said to it quietly. "They can't ignore us any longer."

For the moment, nothing was happening. He examined supply requisitions with the chief of material for a few minutes in the early morning, then looked over fresh maps drawn up by a newly enlisted cartographer. The sharp-faced map-maker stood nervously by as Durragon ran his fingers over the inked lines.

"Sir," the young man began.

Durragon ignored him. "The maps are excellent," he said a few seconds later. "My army grows more sophisticated every day."

"Sir," the map-maker blurted, "I may speak out of turn, but I fear for your safety."

Durragon glanced up at him. "How?"

"The Chasers, sir -- "

"Still aren't used to them, eh? I command with a strong hand."

"I know them well, sir. I lived with a tribe of them just three months ago. Your Chasers are not happy."

"Oh?" Durragon rolled the map up carefully.

"Your new flank runners talk behind your back." The map-maker was trembling now. "They'll kill me if they find out I've said anything..."

"We'll keep our little secrets," Durragon said nonchalantly. "What do they say?"

"That you refused to enter the city with the first rank because you lost your courage. And you held back the second rank just long enough to keep them from getting in. They say you don't have enough nerve any more."

"Grumblings."

"I think more than that, sir."

"I'll take care of it. You attend to your own duties."

"Yes, sir." The map-maker took up his charts and left the tent. Durragon frowned at the swinging flap. The Chasers always grumbled, but he disliked dissent among his officers.

The new flank runners, Gericolt and Perja, sat around a fire and brewed olsherb tea in a battered metal pot. They didn't have as many friends as when they'd been common soldiers, and this irritated them. To assuage their feelings they added a little intoxicating froybom powder to the tea. Soon they were warm and relatively contented. As they lounged, a soldier in a worn cloth jerkin approached them, bowing profusely.

"Cutta," Gericolt ordered sharply. The Chaser stopped his obeisances.

"Dis em, in tent ob He, appree words ob de scribbler."

"Eabesdrop, dis you?" Perja asked, raising an eyebrow. The Chaser nodded. Then he explained what he had heard and the effects of the froybom seemed to evaporate in the flank-runners' blood. "Dis we, kill dat talker," Perja said. Gericolt narrowed his eyes.

"Worry, ourselbes, por wat de Man'll do dis we."

Now they were thoroughly unhappy. Staring into the fire, trying to think how they could avoid punishment, they weren't the first to notice that the city had resumed dismantling itself. When other runners reported to them, Perja threw his ceramic cup onto the ground and stood, brushing dirt from his clothes.

Still anxious, he went to Durragon's tent and touched the General on the shoulder. Durragon turned around slowly, but the Chaser had noticed his jerk. Better to make noise when entering the tent from now on ... unless ...

"What?"

"De polis," Perja said. "At it all ober."

"Moob, de polis?" Durragon asked. Perja shook his head.

"Dis we, look close, nort side come doon an' show de bones ob undisside."

Durragon dressed quickly and went out to see if the barricade was expanding again. Where were all the city parts being stored? Soon enough the city would have to breach the spines and extend its bulk along the plain. Then, perhaps, their chance would come.

Perja left the tent, breathing heavily, and fingered his hidden pants-knife. Then he went to look for the map-maker.

Even in the jumbled thoughts of the move, the city was agonized. Reah felt the pain and guilt as if they were her own, as if she had been the one to order the exiling of humans a thousand years ago. For a moment she struggled to be free of the hurt, but then she gave in. It was time to learn what her city was like, all the way to its center ...

_Screaming._ For days and nights, all around God-Does-Battle the air had pulsed with the despair of the cities, matching the wailing of the humans outside. Reah's mind whirled in the storm of ancient memories. Many of the cities had gone insane, shrinking within to dream only of the past, projecting ghosts to walk the halls and fill the rooms. These had died earliest of all. Their parts had either been scattered on the razor-ridge mountains, or left to wander rogue.