Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series (4 page)

Twenty paces and light
washed out to meet them. None could hide their astonishment. The
Dome’s walls were immensely thick, making the entrance virtually a
tunnel which led them into glowing brilliance. The Keeper smiled at
their expressions.

‘This is the Dome of
Assembly,’ he told them.

They stared at the
tiers of stone seats ringing the Dome. Ten levels and they barely
reached halfway up the wall. Stone ribs stretched up to merge with
another ribbed stone circle and above that was the sky. What had
appeared a milky opaque substance from Dragon back Tika realised
was quite transparent viewed from below. The Keeper walked forward
and the company took note of the floor he walked on. Except for its
far greater size, it was identical to the circles they had seen in
Sapphrea, Gaharn and Vagrantia.

Stones of dazzling
colours within the black marble circle depicted the spiral pattern
that led in to a square slab of a dark green glassy stone at the
very centre. They also noticed that the Keeper stayed without the
black edge of the circle.

‘We have five Grand
Assemblies each year when all our people can attend and speak. It
is also used for smaller Assemblies when groups of scholars gather
here to debate.’

‘Wonder what they need
to debate?’ Sket muttered behind Tika.

‘It is a magnificent
building,’ Ren commented. ‘Is it very ancient?’

The Keeper smiled.
‘Very ancient,’ he agreed. ‘Now we will visit the second Dome, the
Dome of Knowledge.’

He trotted past them
leading the way back through the arched tunnel. They crossed the
space enclosed by the three buildings and entered a similar
archway. The stillness and silence of the first Dome was not
present here. Again stone tiers rose around the walls but these
held galleries above and variously sized cubicle rooms below.
People moved along the galleries, which closer observation showed
to be lined with numberless books. Ren and Maressa stared, and Tika
exchanged a glance with Olam. She could guess how their hands
itched to get hold of even a few of these repositories of knowledge
and information.

Tables and stools
filled the middle of this Dome, many of them occupied by both males
and females, some reading, some writing, a few with their heads
together in muted discussion. Looking up, the sky was clearly
visible through the strange material which covered the top of the
Dome. A woman wearing trousers and shirt came towards the
visitors.

‘This is Hezwa,’ the
Keeper introduced her. ‘She is one of the Keepers of Lore. These
are the outlanders guesting here.’

Gan’s great height was
drawing interested stares from various levels of the galleries. He
inclined his head when neither Ren, Tika nor Maressa chose to
speak.

‘You have the most
amazing collection of books here – far more than I have seen, even
in the Asataria of Gaharn.’

Hezwa laughed. ‘The
cataloguing involved gives me nightmares sometimes. But I must
confess I am never bored or lost for occupation.’ She spoke in the
Common Tongue with no trace of an accent.

Except for her darker
skin, she would pass as Sapphrean, Tika reflected. How could she
have learnt the Common Tongue with such fluency if there was truly
no interaction between these hidden reclusive Qwah people and the
Sapphreans beyond the desert?

‘May I ask how all
these people reach this place?’ Gan asked. ‘We have seen no one
cross the grounds around these Domes.’

Both the Keeper and
Hezwa laughed aloud.

‘Here! See for
yourselves!’ Hezwa went beneath the protruding galleries which Tika
saw for the first time formed a wide passage sloping
downwards.

‘Tunnels lead to the
Ring Complex. Students live in houses beyond the Ring while
Scholars, Teachers and Visitors live in the part of the building
you are using.’ Hezwa explained.

‘Why do you have so
much empty space around the Domes?’

The smiles faded from
the faces of the Keeper and Hezwa.

‘It is deemed
necessary.’ The Keeper replied, his voice expressionless. His eyes
brightened. ‘It is time. Kertiss awaits you.’ The Keeper’s smile
was back in place as they turned to leave. Several students had
left the galleries and tables to crowd round the Dragons, talking
rapidly in the liquid Desert speech.

‘Back to your studies!’
Hezwa clapped her hands. She spoke again, presumably repeating her
order in the Qwah language, and the students reluctantly drifted
back to their places round the Dome.

‘If you have time, you
are welcome to visit the Dome of Knowledge again. I will be glad to
show you some of our books.’

‘I can think of nothing
I’d like better,’ Ren acknowledged fervently. ‘If we stay long
enough, I at least would take up your generous offer.’

Tika reached back and
caught Ren’s sleeve, smiling at Hezwa. ‘If we have time, nothing
will keep him from your books.’

She tugged the Offering
to catch up with the others.

As they approached the
largest Dome, they saw there was an arched entrance in this one
also, but it seemed far lower. Drawing closer, they saw there was a
ramp sloping sharply down, and revealing that the arch in fact was
larger than in the previous two Domes. They halted at the edge of
the ramp, feeling the first touch of the sun on their backs as it
rose over the encircling buildings.

‘What is this Dome
called Keeper?’ asked Maressa.

‘This is the Dome of
the Singer.’ The Keeper’s voice was low and filled with
reverence.

The company glanced at
each other then Tika shrugged. With her left hand she reached up to
touch Farn’s neck and then took the first steps down to that gaping
darkness. The sound of their boots seemed over loud in the tunnel
until light bloomed before them again. They followed the Keeper
until he stopped several paces within the chamber. Maressa gasped,
but she was not the only one.

At regularly spaced
intervals around the edge of the curving wall stood statues. Seela
moved first, pacing towards the nearest figure. She stared hard at
it and the others joined her in silence. It was a statue of a man.
It stood on a stone plinth, its bare feet level with Tika’s waist.
Then it soared up, taller even than Gan. The most exquisitely
beautiful face stared straight into Seela’s. The company stepped
back, trying to see the figure more clearly.

It glowed a dull gold
in the strange light of the Dome and tiny scales were engraved on
all the exposed areas of skin. It wore a real robe of white cloth,
belted with a scarf of blue. The robe was sleeveless and slit
backed, the figure’s wings furled closed at his back.

Farn edged closer to
Tika and from the corner of her eye she saw that Storm was pressed
to Navan’s shoulder too. Silently and slowly they moved round one
side of the vast Dome, staring at statue after statue: all winged,
all scaled, all robed. There seemed to be equal numbers of males
and females – but as they neared the opposite side of the Dome from
the archway, the company halted and could only gape.

The female statue had
her head lowered but her hands half raised – all the previous
figures held their hands clasped before them or relaxed at their
sides. And this female’s wings were half extended, rising above her
head and fanning out around her body. Tika drew a deep breath and
looked away from the overwhelming statue to the other half of the
Dome. More statues lined the walls right back to the archway
through which the company had entered. Sket stood beside her,
clearly uncomfortable.

Apart from those
motionless figures the Dome was a huge empty space. She looked back
to speak to the Keeper and realised he was no longer with them. She
opened her mouth, and snapped it shut as a soft hiss echoed around
them. Hands went to swords and Dragon eyes began to whirr. An
immense section in the centre of the floor slid away somehow and
the hissing changed to a low hum. Something rose from the hole.
Confused minds assumed it to be another form of statuary or
artefact as it continued to rise until, with a soft click, the
floor was in place again and on it stood -?

It was grey blue, three
times Gan’s height and smoothly rounded at one end, tapering at the
other. There was another hum and click and a circle irised open
just behind the rounded end. A man stepped out and walked a few
steps towards them.

He smiled. ‘I am
Kertiss,’ he said softly.

A young sounding male
voice chimed over his. ‘And I am Star Singer. I welcome you at
last.’

Chapter
Three

Tika stared at the man,
straight into his pale grey eyes. She knew he was attempting to
probe her mind and instinctively she slammed a shield round her
thoughts. His smile widened.

‘You need have no fear
of me, but will you not tell me your names?’

Without hesitation,
Tika gave their names, and only their names. She made no reference
to any rank, or title, or to where they came from. Brin had moved
to flank Tika and Farn and the man half turned to stare up at the
crimson Dragon.

‘I had no idea you were
quite so large,’ he said.

A trace of smoke wisped
from Brin’s nose but his mind voice was calm.

‘I should tell you
Kertiss, you should not believe that we fear you. That would be a
mistaken belief.’

Kertiss laughed, teeth
flashing in his dark face. He replied to Brin’s comment but Tika
paid no attention to his words: she watched Gan, out of Kertiss’s
line of sight. Gan was jiggling at his cloak and then an orange
Kephi landed between his boots. She streaked into the hole in the
strange object whence Kertiss had emerged. So the Survivor Khosa
said they could trust was within that thing, Tika
thought.

Kertiss turned from
Brin as Seela moved. In the silent Dome her great feet made the
merest whisper, matched by the slither of her tail over the paved
floor. She reared erect at the rounded end of the object, her eyes
a blaze of lavender and violet prisms. The upper part of that
rounded end of what appeared to be blue grey stone suddenly cleared
to become – windows? The young male voice began to sing, no words
to his song but joyful notes and melodies, filling them all with a
sense of delight.

‘Enough Singer,’
snapped Kertiss, his smile changing to a frown. He raised a
shoulder in a half shrug. ‘My Ship is too excitable,’ he
said.

‘Ship? What is Ship?’
asked Maressa.

‘This.’ Kertiss waved
at the object. ‘This is a Ship which travels the spaces between
worlds.’

‘I am Star Singer. I am
not YOUR ship.’ The younger voice was so cold, reminding Tika
instantly of the dreadful journey through blizzards to the
Stronghold. The tone changed with the next words, was warm again
and joyous. ‘Why do you not go and drag Orla from her work Kertiss,
so she may meet these guests? I will entertain them while you’re
gone.’

Tika felt a shiver of
cold underlying the words but Kertiss merely shrugged
again.

‘I summoned Orla but
she did not respond. No doubt she is lost in her studies as
usual.’

‘She is in the
protected sections – you know she can’t be reached there by
summoning.’

Kertiss frowned again,
a more permanent expression Tika suspected than was his
smile.

‘Very well. But behave
yourself Ship.’ There was a clear warning in his voice. He moved to
the female statue and laid his palm flat against the stone plinth
on which she stood. A smaller section of floor hissed open and the
man walked rapidly down the slope thus revealed.

Then there was only the
sound of their breathing as the company stared at the Ship. Khosa
appeared in the doorway, her odd croon suddenly loud. Seela had
lowered her massive bulk and now pressed her brow against the side
of the object, her eyes closed. Khosa spoke in their
minds.

‘Touch Singer and you
will speak with him without Kertiss knowing.’

The company looked at
each other even as another wordless song began to fill the Dome
with music. Olam, first to risk the dangers of the great sea,
marched forward to be the first to put his hand against the grey
blue Ship. His eyes widened and his body relaxed. Ren looked at
Tika, an eyebrow quirked, and she moved with the Offering to place
her hand beside his on the Ship’s side.

All touching this
strange thing called Ship were immediately conscious of a living
presence, and realised Ship was in reality an intelligent being
whose name was Star Singer, and HE was the Survivor whom they could
trust. His mind embraced theirs and made them feel that they were
old and beloved friends and he was oh so glad to find them again. A
long loneliness darkened the edges of his embracing mind, mingled
with great relief.

‘We do not have long,’
Singer’s mind murmured to them even as his voice swelled with
music. ‘There may be a few brief chances for you and I to speak
again before you leave, but you must reach Namolos. Tell him that
things are bad here: bad and worsening. I cannot do anything
against Kertiss or Orla – my programming will not permit
me.