Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.
Шрифт:
Kozorr had not actually seen many of them in his journey down into the bowels of Cathedral. Those he had seen had been further up, in the towers and turrets and vast, measureless halls. He supposed the engines must be down here somewhere, but something else would be here as well.
The corridor was getting smaller and narrower. He was having to duck to get through it, but he was certain this was the way. There were lights embedded in the walls, so he could see. Small globes. He thought he could hear soft whispers of conversation from them.
Finally the corridor ended at a door. It was vast, much larger than the corridor had been. Puzzled, he turned round, and saw an impossibly wide and tall hall stretching back into darkness. He had just come down there…. it had not been so huge before.
Who comes? asked a voice from nowhere. W ho seeks answers in the Well of Souls?
The Well of Souls. This was the right place then. According to Sonovar's alien allies, Valen had once come here, a thousand years ago. That story had not been known to Kozorr, or indeed to any Minbari. The Tak'cha claimed to have been there however.
They had also told him what to say to gain admittance.
"I am one who comes in the memory of Valen's bargain, and in acceptance of his sacrifice."
There was a moment's silence, and then in an instant every light around him went out, leaving him in utter darkness. He did not show any surprise or fear, although he felt both. He was a Minbari warrior, after all. Valen had come to his place and gained entry. He would do no less.
You may enter, Child of Valen, Child of Twilight, Child of Fire. Enter, but leave behind that which is required, in acceptance of his sacrifice.
He knew what that meant. In all honesty he had no intention of leaving anything behind, but the gift that was necessary had been brought with him, just in case. The Tak'cha had advised him that forgetting it would not be a good idea.
The door did not open. There did not seem to be any hinges, or any mechanism for opening. It was simply that one minute it was there, and the next minute it wasn't. Breathing deeply, Kozorr crossed the threshold and stepped into the Well of Souls.
All the breath left his body at his first sight of that ancient place. He could not feel anything, smell anything, hear anything. It was as if all his normal senses had shut down, and new ones had sprung up in their place.
There was one thing he did know, one thing he had learned from the Tak'cha. This was a place where the dead did not rest. It was a place where they lived.
It was a vast chamber, impossibly vast, larger than the Temple of Varenni which housed the Starfire Wheel, larger even it seemed than the library at Yedor, or the Temple of Remembrance at Tuzanor.
It seemed to be made out of stone, but a type he had never seen before. Dotted everywhere in the walls were tiny specks of light. There were millions of them. Each one, he knew, was a captured soul. He also knew that they were speaking somehow, although not by words or sounds or telepathy…. but by…. something else.
He walked forward, lost in a dream. He dared to look up, and found himself staring into space. The stars were above him, but none he recognised. No constellations he knew could be seen, nothing familiar. Were they even stars, or just more souls?
He was snapped back to something resembling reality when he found himself in front of a small shrine. It was a pathetically humble thing, but he knew what it represented, what made it one of the holiest places in Minbari history.
A small altar of stone, marked by two words, and a small white flower, perfectly preserved despite the hundreds of years it had been there. Valen himself had laid it there, speaking the words that were now marked on the shrine. He had come here to this very spot, a thousand years before. The histories did not speak of that moment at all, and of those who knew of it — the Shagh Toth themselves, the Tak'cha — none of them would say why.
He pulled the small flower from his belt. The offering to this place. Struck dumb by the sheer majesty of his surroundings, Kozorr laid the flower on the altar, next to Valen's.
The offering has been made, said the voice. S eek your wisdom.
"Who are you?" he asked, tentatively.
We are Cathedral. We are the Hunters, the Preservers, the Past and the Future. We are Cathedral.
"How long…? How old…?"
Since before time had meaning. When there was but one race born of the galaxy, created in the shifting sands and timeless seas. Since the creation of death itself, we have been here.
"You have always been here?"
Always has no meaning for us.
"What do you know?" he asked, another idea suddenly coming to him. "Can you answer my questions?" This was not why he had come here, but then he had never believed he would see this place. He had never believed….
We know every answer to every riddle that has ever been asked since the galaxy was born. Every question, save one.
"Will she ever love me?"
There was no answer. The pricks of light seemed to be mocking him with their very presence.
"Answer me. Will she ever love me?"
Leave this place, traitor knight. That question is not for us to answer, or for you to know.
"Damn you. Damn you all!" He drew his pike and extended it, the full memory of why he had come returning to him.
He had come here to destroy this place, to destroy the Well of Souls and every soul trapped within it and this whole ship of fools.
And then Sinoval would be free of their enchantments, and Kats would be free to love him.
And he would be damned.
The Centauri were by nature a race inclined to gossip. Rumour and innuendo were meat and drink to the nobles of the Court, and it was a foolish courtier indeed who did not pay attention to whispers and suspicions. Most of them even had their own private networks of 'eyes and ears' to provide them with information.