He stepped out of the tent, fastening his shirt, and glanced around. There was no sign of Cidra, but he was curiously unconcerned. He sensed the direction in which she had gone, and he set out to follow. He was just about to step through the deflector screens when a niggling sense of unease stopped him. For a moment he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. Then he thought about the pulser and utility loop he had left behind in the tent. It wasn’t like him to go anywhere on this planet without either. He felt undressed without them. Habit was hard to break.
Shrugging, Severance walked back toward the tent. He wouldn’t need a weapon, but since he seemed uncomfortable without it, he might as well get it. Inside the tent he strapped on the holstered pulser and reached for the utility loop.
With the familiar weight of the pulser and the utility loop in place, he walked back outside and through the deflectors. A strange impatience was beginning to eat at him now. He wanted to catch up with Cidra. She might be quite a way ahead of him by now. He pushed his way through the underbrush, deciding not to worry about what sort of creatures might be hiding in the vicinity. Hadn’t he already realized that the jungle was not really a hell? It was a good place, a natural place, one where a man could feel in harmony with nature. Perhaps this was how Harmonics had always felt. If so, he could understand Cidra wanting to become one. Poor Jeude. He’d never had his chance to become a trained Harmonic.
Severance frowned and then relaxed, pushing thoughts of his brother aside. Jeude had been avenged. His memory could be put to rest. Renaissance was a good place to do that too. It was a planet of rest. Gentle, green rest.
He kept walking, not bothering to question his absolute certainty of direction. After all, he’d always had a good sense of direction. The jungle didn’t fight him. Why should it? It was expecting him.
He stepped through a wall of trailing vines and saw Cidra. She was only a short distance ahead of him, right where he had known she would be. Severance smiled, quite pleased with himself. But he didn’t call out to her. That seemed unnecessary. Instead he simply moved a little more quickly.
She glanced at him when he caught up with her. Her eyes had that slightly unfocused expression again, but that was all right. He knew what she was thinking of now. There was no need to communicate. He was thinking of exactly the same things she was. The shared knowledge was pleasant.
Green hell.
No. Green shelter. Peace. Tranquility. Rest.
It all waited up ahead. Not far now. Severance was sure of it.
So was Cidra. She moved unerringly in the right direction, following the gentle, guiding call. It wouldn’t be long now. The safehold was very near. All the answers were very near.
She and Severance stepped through the last wall of tangled vines and leaves and into the clearing. Cidra halted, drinking in the sight of the safehold bathed in the last of the night’s moonlight. Severance stopped beside her, equally enchanted.
It was a graceful, airy thing. The Ghosts had had a light, perfectly balanced touch when it came to architecture. And the safehold had been designed with special care, for it housed important secrets.
Even as Cidra and Severance watched, walls of a translucent stone caught the first light of the morning dawn and glowed with it. The vaulted doorway was open wide, an invitation that could not be denied. The structure seemed lighter than air, circular in shape, and yet it rested firmly on the green velvet of the clearing. It was not a large building, not much bigger than Desma Kady’s octagonal living quarters. It appeared to have been carved out of a single huge block of stone. The roof was arched, revealing delicate veins in the material. Through the vaulted entrance nothing could be seen, but it was obvious mat light was passing through the stone to gently illuminate the interior.
Cidra stepped forward eagerly, and Severance followed more slowly. For a moment just before she entered the safehold, Cidra had time to realize that it was unusual to find anyplace on Renaissance where nature was not in a constant state of combat. Yet here the green velvet underfoot was obviously not having to compete with other foliage. No stray shoots of vines had encroached from the surrounding jungle. There was no sign of any wildlife within the protected circle. Not even insects. In the clearing all was tranquil and serene. A small brook emerged from the jungle on the far side of the protected clearing, bubbled through it, and disappeared into the foliage on the opposite side.
“Just like a garden in Clementia,” Cidra breathed as she came to a halt in front of the entrance. “Smell the air, Severance. It’s so soft and fragrant.”
“I know,” he said, glancing around curiously. Some of the feeling of quiet sureness was receding in him. “Maybe too soft and fragrant, Cidra.”
“Nonsense. This is how the Ghosts lived. I know it. When they were here, the jungle was a place of harmony. Just like this clearing. Come on, Severance. Let’s go inside.”
He hesitated, struggling now with something in his mind. Severance’s eyes were vaguely troubled as he looked down at her. “Cidra, I’m not sure…”
“I’m going inside.” She stepped through the entrance.
Severance shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he realized that there was no need to clear it. All was in order. All was serenely in order. He followed Cidra through the open gate.
Chapter Thirteen
The first thing Cidra noticed was the silence.
“Like the inside of a grave on QED,” Severance said.
“No. Like the Hall of Archives in Clementia.” Cidra stood just inside the entrance and glanced around. The curving walls allowed sufficient light into the room to see a floor that was made of the same white stone. The far end of the circular room was in soft shadow. There were no lines of joining between walls and roof or walls and floor. “It’s that kind of quiet, Severance. A place where something has been stored for the ages.”
“But there’s nothing here.” He reached out to touch the translucent stone wall. “Perhaps long ago it was a…” He hesitated, struggling for the right word. “A safehold.”
“Yes.”
“Cidra. What’s a safehold? We don’t have any facilities called safeholds. Where in hell did I get the word?”
“From whatever led us here.”
“I don’t like it.”
She was surprised by the underlying resistance in his voice. “You don’t like what?”
“Having words put in my head. I don’t like being led through the jungle by something I can’t see. Something in my mind.”
