Chapter Two
Ikki opened her eyes. The city rocked under her. She’d landed in the chief oracle’s garden. The garden had high walls and a big fountain topped by a winged statue. It was an old sculpture, imported from the less settled lower levels of Crete. The only reason Ikki remembered it at that exact moment was because her parachutes had hooked it. She dangled from its outstretched arm.
She’d argued with Tierce about the parachutes.
“Okay,” gasped Ikki. “Maybe those were a good idea.”
The Herm seemed to crackle with agreement. It could have just been interference. It had taken a bit of a beating on the way down.
Ikki tested her arms. They were still attached, if nothing else, though they ached under her straps. She kicked her feet. Immediately, she felt a twinge in her right knee. She’d banged it while struggling to get the chutes deployed. Her left knee felt fuzzy from being wedged in one position for too long. Ikki pulled her foot out of the steering straps. Feeling prickled back into the bend of her leg. Promising.
Next, Ikki sorted out her aches and pains. Her head hurt. She’d cracked her goggles against the rim of the flying machine when she’d hit the first roof, but by then the ’chutes had slowed her down and the helmet had prevented her from cracking her skull. She could feel the bruise beginning to form over her cheekbone. Her bottom lip felt sticky. She’d scraped it. Her knuckles hurt from grasping the controls. They crackled as she flexed her fingers. They tingled from being held upside down.
The flying machine didn’t look much like a flying machine anymore. One of the wings dangled from a few threads of canvas. The other was gone. Its bronze body had been beaten out of shape so badly it no longer looked tube-shaped. It probably wouldn’t fly again.
Ikki began to yell.
“Oh, mother above! Did you see it, Tierce? Did you? Oh, please tell me you got that. You have to have gotten that!”
Ikki felt short of breath. She braced one hand against the banged-up fuselage and released the strap around her shoulders. Instantly, she could breathe again. Almost as instantly, she lost her grip and did a tumble straight into the fountain five feet below. She stumbled to her feet. Her legs throbbed but they held her long enough to sway to the side of the fountain. She hooked her arm over the carved rim of the fountain and felt for the crooked Herm on her chest.
“Blue. It’s blue. Everything out there is blue, Tierce! Tierce, we have to go up again. Oh, mother. Blue.”
Ikki heard a click. She tipped her head back. The bronze tip of the just-deployed spear pointed directly at her forehead. Ikki followed the wiring up the pole to see the upside-down face of the captain of the royal guard.
It took less than five minutes to fly from one side of Minos to the other. It took much longer for a parade of guards. Ikki could have done it faster, if they’d let her. Her knees were sore, and her coat hung heavily off her shoulders, but it was important. The guards crossed their spears every time she fell out of set with the first two in the parade.
“No,” said the captain.
“I didn’t break anything this time. I promise. I’ll pay for whatever if I did.” And a little more, Ikki didn’t say. “Like the last time.”
“You will save your breath for the king,” said the Captain.
This must have been a phrase that would have hushed most people, but Ikki just bundled her coat under her arm and nodded. “I sure will. But can’t we move faster? It’s very important that I see him.”
The captain blinked.
They stopped trying to stop her as they reached the steps of the Temple, letting her rush up the fifty steps it took to get to the main level. The Temple was easily the largest building in Grand Minos. This was because it was also the seat of the royal family, whom most of the priests served. In spite of the ache in her knees and her head, Ikki climbed the steps in twos, startling the priests with their packages and offerings.
The sentinels crossed their spears in front of the grand doors, but Ikki waved her wet coat in front of them. They were old constructs of the gods, made of wires and cogs. They were rooted into the marble floor, and their chests blazed with the sign of Hestia.
“Daughter of the Architect,” said the right sentinel, in a smoky female voice. She was known as Atala.
“What business do you have here,” said the left sentinel, in a rich male voice. He was known as Melagus.
“I’m with them,” said Ikki, jerking her thumb at the panting captain of the guard. “I’m here to see the king.”
The sentinel’s empty eyes fixed on the guard unit as they came to a panting stop on the last stair. Ikki watched with old interest the way the lights attached to their bases flashed as they consulted the Herm network for information on how they should proceed.
It was Melagus who tipped his head with a whirr. “I see,” he said, and lifted his spear. Atala’s stayed in place for a moment, and her empty eyes flashed in a motion that meant “stand-by.”
The captain cleared his throat. “The king is waiting,” he said.
“Daughter of the Architect,” said Atala.
Then, almost reluctantly, her spear lifted from the door.
“Thank you,” said Ikki. “Have a good day.”
“Take care, child,” said Atala, oddly. It was not like the sentinels to say much once their spears were raised.
The insides of the Temple hadn’t changed much from when Ikki had visited with her mother as a little girl. It was all white: the colors of the royal family. It was one of the few buildings made from stone. This was because all stone had to be brought from before the Tower was made, and that was a very long time ago. The floors were white marble, polished to gleaming perfection. It looked like it ought to be cool, but Ikki knew for a fact they ran heating vents under the sheets for the benefit of the elderly priests who hated the cold.
The central area of the temple was a large, circular courtyard, lined in columns that held up a high ceiling carved with images of the gods which presided over all of Crete’s functions. Between each of these columns was a Herm: the type that showed pictures. In this case, they showed statistics as relayed throughout the tower. The strength of the winds on levels three to level seven, the amount of water Poseidon was pumping through the fountains that day, the brightness of the Helios lights and the exact times they would dim. The first screen gave the present date: Day 24 of Month 4 of Year 193 of the Eighteenth Line. Dates in Crete were kept according to who was King, and the present King had been there for a long time.
When she was old enough, Ikki had asked her mother where the numbers came from.
“They come from Hestia,” her mother had told her. “She uploads them to us from the base of the tower.”
“Why?”
Her mother had seemed amused that Ikki would ask that of a god. She must have liked the question, because her eyes softened slightly as she said: “The priests would say you shouldn’t question her will, but I will tell you: it is because it’s her duty to us. It is the gods’ duty to be sure we live on in this space they keep up for us. They will always instruct us in accordance with what they believe is best for our continued health.”
“So why are there storms?” asked Ikki. Ikki had read about Zeus the other day. She’d looked through her mother’s telescope, and had counted all the cannon turrets she could find.
“A fair question,” said her mother. Ikki beamed. “Zeus exists to challenge us. You must weight test a structure before you know how much it can hold. And ideally you should do this before you build it. We are the gods’ constructs. They wish to see how much weight we can bear.”
“And how much is that?” asked Ikki, searching the screens.
“You won’t find that up there,” said her mother.
That answer had always bothered Ikki, who grew up used to solid answers from her mother. In her mind, if the gods were testing for something, they ought to be good scientists and write it down.
“But why can’t people know what the weather will be years from now? What if there’s another storm?”
“The House of Minos believes it would upset people to know things like that. Wouldn’t you be afraid if you learned a storm was coming, and there was nothing you could do to stop it?”
“But I’d know about it,” said the young Ikki, and then her mother had told her to hush up, because they’d reached the door to the king’s chamber. In the present, Ikki looked up.
The captain hurried to step ahead of Ikki. The doors were tall and made of black marble, carved with dozens of faces of the previous members of the House of Minos.
“Ikki, daughter of Dael the Architect. We have brought her,” here the Captain paused slightly, because Ikki had brought herself, “to make her case before King Minos.”
The Royal Wing was as huge as anything else in the temple, but the most anyone ever saw of it was the audience hall: a singular circular room, with three doors. Two narrow ones on the side, and the wide set where Ikki stood.
Across from her was a long, plush divan. Unlike the rest of the building, the divan was made of metal, with bright red cushions. This was because the divan was a recent addition in the last few years. It blocked out the classical stone throne, where King Minos had once accepted his audiences. It had a hard back, and the king was nearly 200 years old. He now took his audiences from the divan, and that was where he sat, carefully reclined, when Ikki walked into the room.
Two clear, black eyes focused on her. He frowned. The hair that fell across his shoulders was white, but it had been white since he was a child.
Regular treatments from Hygeia’s medications meant King Minos was a surprisingly healthy 197. He was not as healthy as he would have liked, however. His robes fell in such a way that you could see the cavernous hollow of his throat and the vicious jut of his collarbone. One thin hand hooked around the clawed arm of the divan. King Minos pulled himself straight and pinned Ikki with a stare older than three generations of her family.
Many of the people of the tower were afraid of King Minos. Many were so afraid that they often had to be arrested for telling stories about the awful things that made them afraid of him. Dael, Ikki’s mother, had never been afraid.
King Minos is an old, sad man, she had said. Repeating those words in her head, Ikki squared her shoulders and held her sodden coat closer to her hip. She was no sight for a royal audience: her tunic was covered with oil stains and her goggles had been hastily pushed up to show the vicious bruise over her eye.
The king wouldn’t see any of that. The king would see someone who was young, and in good health. With any luck, he would also see someone with black curly hair and stony grey eyes, like her mother.
“Thank you for seeing me so quickly,” said Ikki. “There is a lot I have to tell you.”
“Tell me?” One of the king’s carefully groomed eyebrows rose. He had a smooth, deep voice. It was the same as it had been years ago, when he spoke with her mother. Only the faintest gravely quiver of age dogged the corner of his syllables. He was careful to enunciate every word, so no one could see the faint tremor in his lips. “What would a foolish child like you have to tell me?”
“A lot,” repeated Ikki. “For starters, I made a flying machine.”
“Ah. The instrument,” said King Minos. He nodded off to the side. A pair of guards emerged from one of the side doors, carrying between them the twisted remains of the flying machine. They threw it on the ground between Ikki and the king. Ikki jumped at the sight of it. They’d worked quickly. “What do you have to say about that?”
“That it’s a design Dael the Royal Architect kept in the archives in her study,” said Ikki. “She thinks it was used for traveling between the floors of the tower before the stairs were fully completed. Larger versions could have carried construction material.”
“And you built it?”
“Yes,” said Ikki, excitedly. “I had to modify it a little. The old specs were unclear about the steering mechanisms, and I had to guess on how the power lines work. But it flies. Or flew.”
The guards made murmuring noises. The king, however, eyed the flying machine with little more than a twist of his thin lips. “And you used it to challenge Helios.”
“I used it to investigate,” said Ikki, holding her chin higher. “I was studying the dome of the tower when I spotted a weird—unusual marking, between the twelfth and thirteenth columns. The marking only appeared clearly at certain times during the light cycles. I reported this to the Temple immediately, along with the few images I could get of it. I … guess you didn’t get it.”
“I read this report,” said King Minos, looking wholly unimpressed.
Ikki forced herself not to swallow. “Oh, good,” she said. “I thought you had. So I don’t need to tell you my theories on what it was. I decided, as daughter of the Royal Architect, that it would be best to investigate. The flying machine was perfect for this. I’d always wanted to make one anyway. It’s really safe, I promise. I survived. If there’s any damage to the head administrator’s statue, I can take full responsibility. It’s worth it, for what I found.”
“Is it?” Minos’s lips twitched, very slightly. He leaned forward, with a rustle. The hand around the arm of the divan went tighter. Ikki could see every bone in it stand out through the pale skin. She looked back into his eyes. “What did you find?”
“A breach,” said Ikki. The guards stirred at the mention of the word. “It looks like some of the paneling has worn away between those columns. There’s a hole about the length of … mm. See how I’m stretching my arms? Four, five times that. But here’s the real crazy thing. The walls are thinner up near the top of the tower. I know mother used to tell you this. Well, it’s true. The breach doesn’t open up into another section of the wall. I don’t think I’d have seen it if it did. No, the breach opens up to the outside.”
She pulled her coat out from under her arm, and gave it a few shakes. It was just dry enough that the grit sloughed off it freely, tiny dark particles bouncing on the marble floor. The guards shifted back and gripped their spears.
“And here’s the really amazing part,” said Ikki. “The outside world is blue. It’s not grey, or green, or black like the stories always said it was. I’d like permission to rebuild my machine, a stronger one this time, and go again. I could make one for a pilot and a passenger, so we could take more samples, and maybe explore the breach more closely, figure out why it would’ve worn off like that—”
King Minos held up two fingers and slashed them in a quick halting gesture. The guards forced themselves to settle. Ikki froze. In spite of his aches, the king unfurled from his lounge against the divan. He sat straight up. He didn’t blink, just pursed his lips slightly. She could see the pronounced bulge of his throat bob.
“And you,” said King Minos, slowly, as though he were weighing every word. “You confess … readily to this statement?”
Ikki considered for a moment, and then pulled her coat back up against her chest. “It’s what I saw, your majesty,” she said, glancing back and forth. “It’s true. It really is that color. I wish I could tell you why.”
“I know why,” said King Minos, standing. His robes slithered off the divan and settled around his spindly frame. “Have you heard what the girl has said?”
The second side door opened. There was a great rustling of fabric. Eleven people came through the door, filing in with even steps along the wall behind the divan. Seven were men, and four were women, although it was hard to tell which was which under the heavy robes. Each wore a silver mask that covered their face. Their white hair fell at varying lengths across their shoulders. Ikki’s breath caught. It was the full House of Minos, born in the Temple from Hera’s gene banks. Each possessed the king’s gene-set and the potential to be the next to rule the tower.
They stood with masks gleaming and their gloved hands behind their backs, so close that Ikki could make out the gold embroidery running up and down the front of their robes.
The Minos standing the most central in the line answered the king in a voice that, while female, had the same deep timbre as her genetic father. This was Minos III, well known to be the Prince he trusted with the most responsibilities: “We have heard, King Minos. From what I understand, the girl has confessed to accessing illegal technology, breaking the enforced sky boundaries, conducting an unsanctioned investigation, violating the sanctity of Helios and the Winds, risking the displeasure of Zeus and all the rest of the gods. What’s more, she has returned to spread misinformation to our good citizens. Misinformation that will no doubt disrupt the peace of our tower. Is that correct?”
“What?” said Ikki.
“Yes,” said King Minos. “That is what I thought she said. Thank you, Minos III.”
“What? Unsanctioned? Lies?” Ikki looked back and forth between Minos III and the king. “No, I had permission. Tierce—I mean. Minos XIII. He authorized it. He gave me the papers himself. Let me go back to my workshop and find them. Or better yet, just ask him. Is he here?”
Ikki searched the line of princes, but none of them had the short, flipped up hair Tierce preferred or stood with the same lazy favor on their left knee that Tierce always did.
Instead, the taller figure to Minos III’s left answered. The angry forward jut of his shoulders told her it was Minos II: “You would accuse a member of this House of collaboration?”
“No! I mean. I mean. He’s not here. Has he not gotten here yet? He must be home. He would be!” Ikki grasped for this, holding her coat tighter as she stood on her toes. “Oh, he would be. He has the footage. I’m not lying. You can see the breach for yourselves. And I didn’t act without permission. I sent you the proposal. He brought it in personally. You know I asked. You know I was acting only as the next Architect—”
“I received no such proposal,” said King Minos.
“But you said—” He’d read the report. He’d told her as much, just a minute ago.
“This is the first I have heard of this venture,” answered King Minos.
“But you just said—”
“Are you questioning your king?!” roared Minos II.
His voice echoed off the high walls of the royal chamber.
Ikki felt her arms go slack around her coat. “I … thought I had permission,” she said, in a small voice. She forced herself to keep her chin up. “It was important to look into it. If it’s a breach, it needs to be investigated. I’m only reporting what I saw.”
“You were only doing what you wanted, no matter the risk it posed to the kingdom,” said Minos III, coldly. “In spite of your lineage, you are not the Royal Architect. You had no sanction to act as you did.”
And you have no sanction to act like this! thought Ikki. You’re not King Minos. You’re just one of the potentials.’
“… let me speak to Minos XIII. Or at least go back to my workshop and find the papers,” said Ikki. “I can prove—”
But King Minos cut her off with another slash of his long fingers. “Minos III, what is the recommended sentence for the charges that we have discussed?”
“One with such a mentality will only continue to cause trouble for the tower,” advised Minos III. “Termination.”
“A public demonstration,” added Minos II, with relish. “So that others will not have the same idea.”
Ikki shuddered. She’d never been to one of the demonstrations, even though they happened once or twice a year.
“Why?” she asked.
“Hm,” said King Minos, scratching his chin in consideration. “She is from the line of the Architect. For a time, her mother served us well.”
“She is not her mother,” said Minos III. “We have given her great considerations because of her mother, and look at what she has done.”
“And she’s spoken poorly,” rumbled Minos II. “And accused another member of the House of collaboration. That alone is a crime.”
“It is not!” yelled Ikki, “But if you’re going to kill me, at least tell me why the sky’s blue!”
The House of Minos went quiet. Ikki glared down the row of them. None of the others beside II and III said anything, and she knew they wouldn’t. Everyone knew most members of the House of Minos were lazy and interested in little more than parties and new expansions to their private villas. Ikki had seen the plans for most of them. Minos II and III had moved closer to the divan where their gene-father stood, but the rest had drifted slightly to the corners of the room. Several of them had slouched postures and the shuffling feet that indicated extreme boredom with the proceedings.
Answer me, thought Ikki desperately. Don’t any of you want to know?
But none of them did.
“And the child gives us our answer,” said King Minos, very softly. “House of Minos, any other recommendations?”
Ikki heard footsteps over her shoulder. “I have one,” said a voice from behind the guards. “Let’s not be so hasty.”
Tierce! Ikki could have hit him. It was about time. He padded up behind her. He had hastily thrown on his princely robes, although in typical Tierce form he hadn’t bothered with the mask, opting instead for the tinted glasses he always wore in public to hide his eyes. He wore them even indoors, and Ikki had never been happier to see the stupid things.
“Tier—Your Grace,” said Ikki, remembering some decorum, if just barely. “Do you have it? Did it come through?”
“Father.” Tierce didn’t look at her. He settled into his lounging pose, with his arms folded into his sleeves. He never crossed his hands in the back, the way the other Minos did. “I don’t think you’ve considered all the information.”
King Minos stared at his youngest potential heir, a muscle in his jaw tightened, very slightly. “Fine of you to join us, Minos XIII,” he said, finally. “What information have we not taken into account?”
Ikki thought she caught Tierce glance at her, out of the corner of his eye. Ikki stood on her toes. Tell them, she thought at him, knowing he knew what it meant when she bit her lip. Do something about this. You know this is stupid.
A twitch in the corner of Tierce’s mouth told her, Yes, I know.
“The Architect’s daughter is very well known to the general populace,” said Tierce. “She does repairs and tinkering jobs for most of the population of Grand Minos and quite a number of citizens in Hestian and Poseidos. A public demonstration would not go over very well at all, King Minos. If her crimes require immediate action, I would recommend a quieter approach than the one suggested by my higher predecessor.”
Ikki heard the blood rush to her ears. She glared more fiercely. No, Tierce, she tried to tell him. The other thing. The other thing.
Minos III shifted on the balls of her feet: “Minos XIII, have you heard this girl’s claims?”
Minos II said: “Do you know anything about this foolish girl’s exploits? Did you authorize … this … this thing?”
He swept one gloved hand in the general direction of the prone flying machine. Tierce peered at it, giving a faint whistle at its twisted state. “I did hear something about this,” he admitted, with a duck of his head. He answered solely to King Minos, never once looking at his gene-siblings. “She had mentioned finding the specs to it in the late Architect’s study. I told her I thought it was interesting, but wasn’t sure it was plausible.”
“That’s right,” said Ikki, relieved. Now, they’d believe her. “And then you said you’d like to see if it would work. And then you told me you’d see what you could do about—”
“Is this true?” asked King Minos, his soft voice overriding Ikki and the bristling of Minos II.
“I certainly spoke with her about it,” said Tierce. “But you certainly received no proposals from me.”
“What?” Ikki stared. “Tierce, you said—”
“And her claims about the breach?” asked King Minos. “And the color of the sky?”
This sent another wave of uneasy murmurings among the Princes. Tierce beamed. It was the smile Ikki knew very well: the one he gave when he was pretending he liked being a Prince. That was when he looked his most pleasant. “This is the first I have heard anything about this. What color is the sky?”
“Blue,” said Ikki. “I told you this. Blue. It’s blue. It came through in the feed didn’t it? You have the recording! You saw what I saw!”
Tierce frowned, very slightly. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anything like that in my life. Everyone knows the sky is chrome.”
“But outside—”
“And outside it is the color of horrible deadly toxins,” finished Tierce primly. “This is something we all know. Certainly, Your Majesty, I heard the girl’s theory about this.”
He won’t even look at me! thought Ikki, she started to step forward, but the captain grabbed her arm.
“And I was aware she had built a flying machine, but I had no notion that she would use it like this. Certainly, she decided to do so; it was on her own volition. I would never have thought it was possible to fly above the Helios lights. I told her as much.”
“But you said you’d be curious if it could be done!” cried Ikki. “Stop telling them only half of the story. You were there, I was talking to you. I’m not lying.”
Tierce gave a labored, sympathetic smile. “I understand that’s how you might feel, but just because you want something to happen doesn’t mean everyone else automatically agrees with you. I’m sorry for this misunderstanding, I truly am.”
Ikki wanted to punch him. She wanted to drag him down and strangle him. The captain pulled her back.
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Tierce, the footage. You have it. What did you see?”
“Yes, what did you see?” asked King Minos.
Tierce turned his back on Ikki and held his hands out, gloved palms up. “Nothing, your majesty,” he said. “I saw nothing. I can see how what she says is awfully troubling, though. I know Ikki. She’s stubborn. If there’s something she really believes she won’t ever let it go.”
“Tierce—” started Ikki, and then the captain struck her across the face. He wore metal gauntlets over his huge, meaty arms. If he’d really wound one back he could have easily killed her. As it was, a light flick from his wrist left her head ringing. She fell to her knees, feeling the new pain hot over her right cheek.
“Show respect,” said the captain. “You are speaking to the House of Minos.”
“I know that,” whispered Ikki. He’d hit her. He’d really hit her.
“As you see,” said Tierce. “Stubborn.”
Minos II growled: “We knew this already.”
Minos III said: “I stand by my original verdict.”
“I’ve got one better,” said Tierce, “The Minotaur.”