Maya was once again glad to have Varo in the lead, because without him she’d never have spotted the entrance to the Gate. There was no secret door here, just camouflage hiding a narrow cleft in a rocky hillside, which had been carved into a niche just wide enough to accommodate the delicate twisted arch.
“Do you have any message for the Council?” Dhira said, standing in front of the Gate.
“Just that we’re proceeding according to instructions,” Tanax said. “I will deliver the letter to the dux personally.”
Maya badly wanted to ask for an update on Jaedia’s mission, but she doubted the Council would share anything, even if they knew. She shook her head when Dhira glanced at her. Tanax touched his haken and sent mental commands to the Gate, and the curtain of silver descended. Dhira gave a deep bow and stepped through back to the Forge. After a moment, the silver cleared.
“Dux Raskos is an important ally,” Tanax said. “He’s to be given due respect. Is that clear?”
Maya nodded. Varo said, “Do we know what sort of work assisting the dux is going to involve?”
“Whatever he requires,” Tanax said, which Maya guessed meant he had no idea.
She felt the ripples in deiat as he sent the unfamiliar sequence for the Deepfire Gate, and the archway filled with liquid silver once again. Tanax stepped through, unhesitating, and Maya followed close behind. As usual, there was no sense of transition, as though she’d walked through an ordinary doorway into a room that happened to be hundreds of kilometers away.
The other side of the Gate was in a chamber similar to the one that housed the Gates at the Forge—bare stone except for the Gate’s delicate arch, and a single heavily reinforced door. Two Legionaries stood beside it, looking like inhuman statues in their off-white unmetal armor and blank faceplates. At the sight of the two agathia with their haken, the soldiers lowered their weapons and thumped fists to chest in salute.
“Agathios Tanax,” one of them said, her voice distorted by her enclosed helmet. “Please excuse me. The dux asked to be informed immediately when you arrived.”
Tanax nodded, and the Legionary pushed the door open and slipped out. The other soldier remained at attention until Maya gave him a bow of acknowledgment. He relaxed slightly and inclined his head.
“Welcome to Deepfire, Agathia,” he said. “We’re grateful for your assistance.”
“Are we in the Spike?” Beq said eagerly. She fiddled with her spectacles, lenses clicking and whirring.
“Uh … yes, Arcanist,” the soldier said, nonplussed. “Formally, it’s the Ducal Palace, but the Spike is its common name.”
“One of the last Chosen-built structures,” Beq said to Maya. “After the Chosen burned the ghoul city here, Filo-math-Beria raised the main spire in a single day before installing the Gate. Founder Volute led some of the cleansing here, before the formal establishment of the Order.”
“I had no idea,” Maya murmured, grinning at the arcanist’s enthusiasm. Whatever awkwardness lay between them was no match for the wonders of the Elder world, clearly.
“I’ve always wanted to visit Deepfire,” Beq said. “Do you think we’ll get the chance to explore the tunnels at all?”
“That’s up to the dux, I imagine.” Maya glanced at Tanax, who was looking at the door with obvious impatience.
“Of course the strike did a lot of damage, but the area is still very well preserved,” Beq said. “It’s on par with Grace in terms of the discoveries that have come out of it. That’s why the Republic maintains a presence.”
“How many Legionaries in the garrison?” Tanax said, chiming in.
“Ten, Agathios,” the soldier answered. “And approximately one thousand Auxiliaries.”
The door swung open. Four more Legionaries waited, two on each side, blaster rifles at the ready. Beyond them was a long line of more conventional soldiers, in steel breastplates and round caps, spears at their sides as they stood at strict attention. Between them, a short, heavily built man in flowing purple-and-gray silk offered a deep bow.
“Agathia,” he said. His voice was moist and breathy. “You honor me with your presence. Please convey my utmost thanks to the Council for their assistance. I am Dux Raskos, and I hold this garrison on behalf of the people of the Republic.”
He straightened up and smiled. His teeth were a horror, brown and splintery, gleaming here and there with precious metals like coins shining out of a sewer. Maya felt an overpowering urge to keep her distance, but Tanax had already started forward, and she had no choice but to follow. Beq and Varo came after her, the arcanist looking curiously at everything, the scout seeming distinctly ill at ease.
“Thank you for your service, Dux Raskos,” Tanax said, with a shallow bow of his own. “I have a message for you from the Council.”
“Of course.” Raskos took the letter, a slim envelope, from Tanax. The dux wore a fixed smile. “My gratitude.”
“Until we receive further instructions, I am to place my team at your disposal. I hope we will be able to resolve your difficulties.”
“I have no doubt you will,” Raskos said. His smile grew more genuine. “But that can wait. I understand you’re coming directly from another assignment, and you must be tired. Let us see to your accommodations.”
*
The Gate room, it turned out, was deep underground, connected by a broad spiral staircase with the rest of the Spike. After several revolutions, it emerged into a large, luxuriantly appointed hall, where a phalanx of liveried servants waited like a second contingent of guards. The dux waved his hands like he was conducting an orchestra, and four dark-coated footmen peeled off to stand expectantly in front of Maya and the others. It took Maya a moment to realize that the servant was waiting for her pack.
“I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a small gathering this evening,” the dux said, as the travelers handed over their gear. “Everyone in Deepfire is eager to make your acquaintance, though of course only the best people will be invited. I trust that will be satisfactory?”
“Is that really necessary?” Maya said. Tanax shot her a look, and she hastily added, “I thought we would be at work as soon as possible, is all.”
Tanax cleared his throat. “Agathios Maya is correct, Dux Raskos, that we don’t require any courtesies.”
“Of course not,” Raskos said, bowing again. “But the situation here in Deepfire is delicate. It may be some time before your aid will be required. Until then, I hope you will take advantage of my hospitality.”
Tanax nodded, apparently mollified. Raskos, purple robe rustling, gestured to a sweeping wooden stairway, and the pack-bearing footmen trooped up it in formation. Tanax strolled along behind them, with Maya and the others following in his wake.
“You’ll be summoned this evening,” Raskos said. “Until then, please ask if you require anything at all.”
He remained at the bottom of the stairs as the servants led them away. When they reached the second-floor landing, Maya exchanged a look with Varo, then made sure Tanax was several steps ahead.
“Is this … normal?” she muttered, in a low voice. “All the bowing and scraping.”
Varo shrugged. “You’re the centarch.”