Book 2 The Gods of Light and Liars

Chapter Seven: The Sweet

The next time Hawk awakened, the Archon was absent, but her breakfast was present. It was similar to...well, she couldn't call it yesterday, now could she? The day hadn't passed back home—she suspected it hadn't been even an hour—and there was no sun here to mark time. Her clothes were present, folded, but beside them were a collection of silk gowns and robes, and a beautifully caligraphied note: I invite you to wear our robes until you're well. If you feel up to it, you may join me in the garden. There was no signature.

Hell with it, she thought, and went for the silk.

It took her a minute to guess at how these garments were meant to be layered. She found her own underwear (for some reason the thought of the Archon undressing her wasn't disturbing. The man had all the sexual presence of a lamppost, after all) out of the pile of fatigues, and figured the simplest gown of rough, cream-colored silk was an under-dress, like a chemise. A better, finer, ankle-length tunic had slits from ankle to just above the knee, and a panel of delicate embroidery, of flowers and what looked like ants on a background of circles. She suspected some religious symbolism. It felt like putting on a gentle breeze. The heavier samite was, she guessed, the outer robe. This had no slits for ease-of-walking, save for down the middle. When she put it on, she felt more modest than if she'd put on a nun's wimple.

Fortunately it was very cool down here, and the heavy outer robe was welcome. There were also a pair of soft boots, lined with fur. She put them on. PETA would probably choke on this place...and the Shadowbeast would gladly finish them off. She still shuddered at the memory of that...thing. Why had it attacked her? And what sort of evolutionary chance had brought it to life?

There were no answers. She chose to leave the room instead.

It was her first true adventure outside, into a pocket universe. She didn't know what to expect. Riotous florals hadn't been on the list, but she faced a huge bank of some white climbing vine. Its leaves were bleached white and pale, and the blooms were a vibrant, well-lit helitrope. Veins of phosphorescence traversed each petal. Pale moths flitted from flower to flower, their wings seeming dull at first. Then one of them flashed glowing eye-spots at her, a fierce visage that sent her stumbling back into a trellis of green-leafed wisteria...or something very much like it. These close paths of flowers continued for a few paces, small doors tucked discretely here and there amongst the trellises. But it was the light that was impressing Hawk now. It was produced by every flower but, as she drew closer and closer to some unseen center, grew deeper in intensity. It also gained color, going from a moth-pale gray, bare as breath, to more robust shades. A vibrant orange ball of floral enthusiasm bloomed just as she passed it, a sudden explosion of pollen and floral scent that subsided only with the passionate burst of its neighbor. Each with a ping, a pop, a sigh as it settled into its own vegetative place.

She stepped out into a world of perfection.

The ground beneath her feet was moss, patterned delicately around glowing orange and blue stones. Different colors gathered to different stones, and until she stepped out here she thought it was chance that the white-veined moss stayed just so around its blue stone, the dark blue-flowering stuff clung to the orange. But the ground here had a pattern of moss, all of it spiralling round and round to a great light in the center, hovering six feet above the verdant ground. It was white and it glowed with a heatless light as clear as any spring day back home. Around it were a seeming thousand thousand green leafed plants, though later Hawk would learn there were only twenty or so, each woven into the spiral of plants around this central clearing. A band of flowers in every shade eased away from this main heart of light. There was a little spring-fed pool to one side, with a grate to let the water leave the walled-in boundaries of this garden. A sitting area bordered this, covered in moss save for bare flag-stone in front of each chair.