The Farthest Gate (The White Rose Book 1) (11 page)

He would not answer. 

The Keeper reached us and I stepped into his path.  “What is your purpose with the girl?” I demanded.

He blinked at me.  “I’m taking her home.  She is perfect.  Just the piece I need.”

I bristled.  “She’s a person, not a thing.”

He laughed jovially.  “I mean nothing by my turn of phrase.  I think of everyone as part of the great system, myself included.  We all have a part to play, keeping the mechanisms in good service.  She will help me do that.”

On Earth, an apprentice position for a girl was unlikely.  The man had to be far more enlightened than most, or society here was quite different.  But if he were benevolent, why did Azrael’s heart seethe so?  I pulled Angelique lose, and drew her to me.  I was determined to keep her close until I knew I was leaving her to a better life.  Phillippe would understand.  He would expect it of me, and be disappointed if I failed
—no matter his own condition.  I promised myself to resolve this matter soon, and not allow myself to get distracted again—no matter the need.

I gave the Master of Gears a hard stare.  “I want to see what you intend for her.”

“Great!”  His voice boomed with enthusiasm.  “I love company, but get few visitors here, or in the lower levels.”

He clomped to the end of the landing, guiding Angelique onto the ferry.  I followed with a jump, landing near a patch of shadow that spat Azrael out.  Untying the mooring line, the Keeper boarded last.  He went to a rudder that teemed with complex attachments, as we settled in for the ride.  I did not understand how the mechanisms controlled our motion, but the ferry quivered and surged across the water with uncommon speed.

At first, I thought our destination had to be the unseen, far shore of the lake, but the fog thinned as we pressed on, reaching twin islands instead.  The isles were crowned with a jumble of buildings.  Each isle had a structure connected by a glass bridge with curved pylons, like the ribs of some monstrous beast, for support.  Lower, at the base of the closest island, a pier jutted out to meet us.

The Keeper pulled up to it and our craft shuddered to a stop.

Azrael vaulted from the ferry, securing the mooring line.  Hands tightly linked, Angelique and I went next.  The Keeper was last upon the pier.  He made no mention of my possessiveness over the child, but passed, leading us all up a steep ramp that arced along the rock, bringing us to the island’s crown, on a side removed from the dock.  A flagstone path led us past a garden of moss-encrusted boulders, arranged so that one stone always hid behind another, no matter how perspective changed in passing. 

It seemed an intellectual
triumph that the Gamesman himself might have designed.  I wondered if he were somewhere about.  Surely, his interest had not yet waned with me.  Or was that bloated spider waiting at the city’s hub for me to blunder into his web.  I knew he was heartless and clever, but I was unsure about the quality of his patience.  Best to stay on guard.

The path brought us to a black marble facade, streaked with charcoal.  A heavy door with centrally located brass rings gave us entrance to a wide staircase leading down.  Glass rods
filled with amber liquid were side rails.  They glowed as we touched them, stretching ahead of our steps to light our way with an unwavering wash.  I jumped as the light first appeared.  Angelique cooed softly at the wonder of it.  The upward glow struck her face, making her look like some fey creature from the wilds of a dream.

I shook such fancy from my mind, concentrating on the Keeper as he led us past closed doors, to a tiny room.  He bid us enter, then followed, sealing the entrance with a sliding iron grate.  The purpose of this crowded enclosure mystified me.  A panel on the wall contained numbered buttons.  He pressed number five and weight increased.  The area beyond the grating dropped from view, and I knew I was rising, being carried upward by this marvelous contrivance. 

As Angelique gave every sign of enchantment over the wonders of this place, I realized that the longer she stayed, the harder it would be for her to leave.

When we stopped, the Keeper opened the grating.  We emerged into a hallway with a bright red carpet and blonde wood paneling.  One end of the hall contained a stained glass window tinted seven shades of blue.  Faux sunlight had been contrived to illumine it from the other side, turning patches of carpeted floor into shards of purple, dark and light. 

The other end of the hall connected to the ribbed glass tunnel I’d seen from the boat.  We were going across that?  I hesitated to trust my life to what might be too fragile a bridge.

The Keeper laughed and stepped out, walking several feet.  He turned back to face me.  “It is quite safe.  The glass has been strengthened with complex alchemies.  You have nothing to fe
ar.”  He turned and continued.

Fearless as only the undead can be, Angelique broke away from me, bounding after him.  I swallowed my terror, drew a deep breath, and rushed after her.  Once into the tunnel, I observed it was not o
ne whole piece, but sections joined by an outer ribbing.  I noticed this because I kept my gaze level, refusing to stare at the water-filled chasm below.  I was unnerved enough without encouraging further dismay.

Gladly, I left the tunnel behind, and willed my heart to calm.  I had never known myself to cower at heights, but that was before the awful crossing to this Necropolis on the Bridge-Between-Worlds.  The experience had seared itself into my spirit.

The Keeper pointed to two rooms.  “These are yours to use.  Now, if you will excuse me, I must finish certain matters before we can take the descender to the levels below the lake.”

Descender?  I registered the unfamiliar word.  That had to be his name for the little moving room that we used to change floors.  I wondered if it became an ascender when taken upward.

The Keeper waved from further down the hall.  “Feel free to wander about.  There is a library, rather technical I fear, down that way, a solarium, a music room, and various parlors.  Enter any door that will open to you.  Those that do not must stay locked to protect work in progress.  I shall join you for dinner when the bell sounds.”

“But wait, I have no time for such
—”

He ignored me, and Azrael laid a restraining hand on my arm.  “He is not one you can rush,” the dark angel said.  “
Now, things must move at their own pace.”

The Keeper acted as if he heard nothing said of him.  “If you have needs or questions, ask any of the simulacra.”

Another word I did not know.  I arched an eyebrow at the Keeper

He explained.  “They are servants made of metal, living sculptures, if you will.”  Our host smiled at some private jest.  “You will find them amazingly lifelike.”  He bowed in the distance, straightened, and clomped off about his business.

Two rooms.  Angelique and I would take one and Azrael…  I looked around.  He had vanished yet again.  I ought to be getting used to his disappearances by now.  At least his absence gave me time to determine just how much of my heart I could afford to give him.  I had no doubt that the dark angel loved me, or that I felt something for him.  But could such feelings lead to anything other than pain?  He was in this realm for a reason, perhaps tied to it forever.  I was passing through, though not as quickly as I would like.  What was I going to do when this was over?  Drag him back to France, to my father’s country cottage, and have Azrael tend the rose gardens?  Good lord!  Whatever would the neighbors say?

True, I had been alone since Phillippe’s father died in some foreign adventure, before my son was born.  Being without male attention for so long made me susceptible to it. 
Another problem; angels were neither male nor female, so the relationship could never be consummated
. 
I would never have to be concerned about him forcing his attention on me—
damn it!

“Which room is mine?”

Angelique’s question reminded me of business at hand.  I smiled at her.  “We will look at both and then move into the one we like the best.”

“I can stay with you?”

I caressed the side of her face.  She made me wish I had a daughter as well as a son.  “I really wish you would.”

The next thing I knew, she flung herself against me, wrapping arms around my waist with desperate strength that nearly toppled me.  I held her a long while, feeling her need as well as my own.

Eventually we chose between bedrooms that were identical in everything but color.  One was midnight blue with gilt highlights, and the other lavender and rose.  We chose the second.  I dropped my cloak and pouch on the bed and we went exploring, hand in hand.

I was curious about a solarium on a world without night or day.  It turned out to be a protruding deck with wrap-around glass walls.  Beyond, I saw a blue lake under an azure sky, and a golden sun that blazed a track of light across the water.  I spotted a far off shoreline, a smudge of forest, and the higher buildings of the city, proud and pristine.  None of it looked as unhealthy as it truly was.  The Keeper deserved praise as a master of seductive miracles.

While Angelique and I enjoyed the warmth on our skin, heavy steps approached from behind.  Still wary of this place, I turned at once and discovered two maids in uniform.  Their faces were metal masks that would have passed for human in shadow.  Their hands were solid and seamless metal, somehow given the elasticity of living flesh.  They bowed in unison.  The one on the right spoke, “We have been assigned to serve you.  Make any desire known.”

“I am hungry,” Angelique said.  “When is dinner?”

The second simulacra said, “Within the hour.  Would you like something sooner?”

My little angel sighed.  “I guess I can wait.”

I found our servitors’ empty eyes a bit unsettling.  “That will be all for now.”

They curtsied and left.  I went to a glass table by a sidewall that had a lone vase on it with an arrangement of white roses inside.  Had this been done just for me in some way, or did I read too much into the selection? 

I pulled out an exquisite chair made from bronze with back and legs fashioned to appear as though wreathed in ivy.  I felt unease, using such art for common sitting, but settled as Angelique commandeered another chair, acting totally at home.  I envied her the ability to be comfortable anywhere.

“Angel,” I called her what she was.

She looked at me and smiled.

I smiled back.  “If I asked you not to stay here…”

Her smile faltered.

“…It would be because I do not want you to get hurt.”

Her smile returned, wider than before.  “You want me go with you?” her voice was hesitant, nearly fearful.  “Mama?”

Guarded hope hung in her cinnamon-colored eyes. 

Now, I would be the one to hurt her.  “I want nothing more than to be your mother, but it cannot be.  I am here to save my son and then he and I must leave the city since we are not dead.  And you cannot live outside the city, but would be a ghost in the night?”

“If you died, you could stay,” she said.  “It is not so bad, really!  And I would not mind having a brother, if he wanted to die too.”

My heart ached for the emptiness of her life, but I could not give her what she wanted.  I tried another approach.  “Angel, I do not know how any of this is going to work out.  I have those I need to kill, unless they kill me first, and I do not want to drag you into that.”

“I could wait.”  Her voice spiked.  “I would wait anywhere, as long as it takes, for you to come back.”

“I will do my best for you.”  That was all the promise I could give.  It seemed to satisfy her.

She slid out of her chair and came over to mine.  Sinking to her knees, she seized one of my hands with both of hers.  Her chin went on top of her hands.  She gazed at me with teary eyes.  “You do love me, just a little bit?”

“No.”  I pulled my hand free.  “I love you a whole lot.”  It was true.  This little bandit had stolen my heart and I could not take it back.  I gathered her up into my lap and wrapped my arms around her.  And that’s how we passed the time until the dinner bell sounded. 

“Time to go,” I said.

Angelique stretched like a cat against me, preparing her body to move.  She flowed to her feet and took my hand as I rose.  She held on tightly.  I think she feared I would slip away like a happy dream if she were not careful.

A metal servant approached to ensure we found the dining room.  I had hoped to see Azrael, but he had not returned.  Was he angry with me?  I determined to knock on a shadow later and find out.

A simulacre seated Angel beside me.  I seated myself despite an offer of assistance.  The table was covered in white linen, exquisitely set with silver utensils, china, and crystal goblets that refracted light from candelabrum placed strategically around the room. 

The Keeper arrived, dressed opulently for dinner, all brocade and ruffles
—casting Angel and me in the roles of poor country cousins.  He took his place at the head of the table, immediately sampling an offering of wine to ensure its suitability for guests.  His suddenly sophisticated demeanor surprised me.  I declined the beverage.

“You do not care for wine,” the Keeper asked.

“It’s not that,” I said.  “Your hospitality has been flawless, but I have been warned that the living cannot survive on the fare of the dead.”