Читать книгу Rise to the Rahz - Erik van Mechelen - Страница 2

Through a slit in the stone wall, Kaydin watched the secret meeting. If only I could hear them. After the pair entered the balcony, he had downed a vial which contained a solution of water and turma. He moved the turma from his chest into his head to light Heighten. A moment later each of his five major senses improved. The room’s red glow brightened. The resinous scent of the turma plants strengthened. But even with enhanced hearing, only an indistinguishable murmur met his ears. Judging by the director’s grin, his first meeting with the Rahz was proceeding well. He was rather confident for a new director just woken from the workers' sleep. Then again, his arms held the railing like someone climbing for the first time grips the stones.

As the amorphous shape of the Rahz disappeared through the darkened exit, Kaydin heard Dimah sigh. The prior disturbance to his own hearing departed with the Rahz. Director Dimah’s grasp on the stone loosened; his first test was over. Red light from the Growing Room lit his smile once more before he too left the room.

Kaydin regarded the toiling workers, minds dulled by the enforced diet, hearts tamed by relentless ritual, fears stoked with mythology of the Abyss. The workers, dressed in plain smocks matching their skin, completed their last duties. Water was poured from clay pots into the crevices of stone. The plants twisted in delight.

The precision of their training saw each worker complete his or her duties in near unison. The last one filed out and the only noise remaining was the click of a lizard’s tongue and the buzz of a glowfly nestling into the folds of a leaf.

Kaydin felt for the pulley system hidden in the stone and a crawl space was revealed. Moments later he was inside Growing Room One.

He stepped up onto the railing, touched the ceiling for balance, then leaped onto the tallest nearby stone. He crawled down, avoided the snapping of a symbiotic pitcher plant, and disembarked clear of the turma plants near the stone’s base. He landed expertly. Hands on hips, he smiled. It was always fun making the jump.

With a dagger Kaydin dislodged a glowing earthlight. The resinous scent of turma crept into his nostrils. The powder from the bulbs of the very plants these stones gave light to were needed to bring out their light. Kaydin replaced the earthlight with a dimmer one from his satchel. When the workers returned, they would alert their director to the failing stones and he would have the light-giving stones replaced. Kaydin's teacher Ry was eager to keep the scale of their nuisances to the city small; if Haven’s activities grew to harm the directors or the Rahz, then they might align more concerted efforts to find and eliminate the escapees.

The workers, on the other hand, would soon forget they had even noticed the dying earthlights. Their diets of turma root would make them forget it all.

The same plants that keep them alive keep them asleep. Memories were perception. Ry had even argued memories were life itself. But if these workers had no memories beyond their duties, then did they even have a life? Am I one of the few among the living? Perhaps he was. The living few were the escapees calling themselves Haven, the Rahz, and the directors. And yet…no. If Ry was right about the Above, there were many, many more.

Kaydin moved to the next group of plants ringing a tall stone. He started and swung back behind the previous stone. There was someone else there, kneeling next to a plant, turma bulb in hand.