The Claim

1-6-2015

“The Amen-Enkh has his way, then,” said Epaphos, “as he is accustomed to do. But one day he will meet someone who is not so indulgent of his foibles.”

“As long as that day is not today,” said Ozier; and he led the way down the black gravel road, toward the bridge.

#

It was a longer walk than Esker had expected; the bridge was so large it had seemed nearer. Night had its claws deep in the sky and sand by the time they drew close enough to see the figures moving high up on the spars and girders of the thing, tiny as squirrels in a thousand-year-old tree. 

The immensity of the thing was disorienting, the structure of it hypnotic, cutting the air into triangles large enough to form an ample yard for a good house in Metu, with room for a garden and a chicken coop besides. Esker had spent his share of minutes staring at spider webs and the play of frost on steel, but he had only seen the great works of ancient construction as shadows lurking inside Tenoc glaciers; the idea that such complexity and precision could be embodied at such scale tortured all his notions of possibility. It was wide enough for four trains, with enough space between them for a man to walk without fearing for his life. He could not conceive the use of such hugeness. For all that the thing dwarfed him, he could have sworn that he felt it wobble when he set his foot down on it. 

The black gravel road continued across the bridge, although it was pitted and gouged out in places, revealing the skeleton of bridge beneath—a mesh of steel with nothing but black cañon under it. Esker, Inber, Ozier, and the Epseris spread out as the huge steel webwork that formed the flanks of the bridge began to rise; Kem, lacking the soldier’s instinct to disperse, stuck close by Esker. Bright lights illuminated the bridge starting in the middle, and for a moment that was where Esker thought the sentries began as well; but a subtle flutter in the high dark caught his eye. Once oriented, he easily found two figures skulking in amongst the spars of the bridge. They wore the black feather cloaks of Rooks, but they were betrayed by their light skin and their silhouettes against the stars. By movement and proportion, one was a man and one a woman. He could not see their eyes in the night, but he could see them stop and look back at him. They leaned their heads in toward one another, exchanging whispers. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt something sweet and hot lick from his tailbone up his spine, felt burning blood flood his chest and face.

“What catches your soldier’s eye, Sepherene?” called Epaphos. “Something in need of shooting, I don’t hope.”

At this, the Rooks darted their separate ways, higher up into the web of girders. “Two Rooks, whom you have spooked,” called Esker. “You should be more considerate to our hosts.”

“Should shut up and keep his head down, you mean,” Kem muttered.

“Your advice is always better than mine, Kem,” said Esker, his voice equally low, “but I do not want those Rooks to know we fear their attentions.”

Epaphos was searching the girders. “The hell you say,” he said. “A platoon of cave-bears could stalk up there invisible in this night.”

Ozier said nothing, but met Esker’s eyes as though to say I see them. Esker looked over to Inber, who nodded. Kem had caught the brief exchanges. “I saw glowing eyes and assumed they saw everything,” said Kem. “But I suppose it is one thing to throw off light, and one to apprehend it.”

“Likewise, it is one thing to talk,” said Esker, “and another to listen.”

“What?”

Esker shot Kem a glare; Kem flashed a grin.