Empire: Book 2, The Chronicles of the Invaders (The Chronicles of the Invaders Trilogy) by John Connolly, Jennifer Ridyard Page A
Authors: John Connolly, Jennifer Ridyard
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as unseen creatures were drawn by the heat of her exposed body, and the smell of her fear. The light kept them away, though. They hated it. It hurt their eyes. Perhaps if she could survive until the sun rose . . .
Then the light was gone. The memory of it burned in Elda’s eyes as something hard and sharp closed around her neck. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged, for her head was already separating from her body.
And the feeding began.
CHAPTER 14
T hey called it the City of Spires. Tannis: the jewel of Illyr, the largest, most glamorous, and most populous metropolis on the planet. It was the seat of government, the center of power. It took its name from its architecture, the great slivers of glass and metal that extended like stalagmites into the air, seemingly scraping the very heavens above.
Tannis, the City of Spires.
Tannis, the City of Spies.
• • •
The building was known as the Tree of Lights. It housed five thousand of the most wealthy and powerful citizens of Illyr, all of them Diplomats or individuals with connections—professional or personal—to the Diplomatic Corps. Its security was exceeded only by that of the Parliament itself, with whom it shared a significant number of residents. In a city of tall slim structures, the Tree of Lights was notable for its unusual design: a tall central support column that housed offices and essential systems and then, spreading above it, a great crown of luxurious apartments connected by branches containing moving walkways and discreet elevators; hanging gardens that formed their own ecosystems within the building; and landing pads for the shuttles and skimmers used by its residents. The Tree of Lights was not uncontroversial. Some felt that its shape was not in keeping with Tannis’s architectural character, but since they lacked the power, money, and influence of those who had approved the design, funded its construction, and now lived in it, their views went largely unheeded. Anyway, as far as the residents of the Tree of Lights were concerned, they had notdisturbed the cityscape of Tannis at all, for they were able to look out of their windows and see only gilded spires. It was for others to look upon the Tree of Lights, and envy those who lived among its branches.
In one of the topmost suites, a Diplomat named Radis stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His bald skull was beaded with sweat, even though the room had instantly cooled to his preferred temperature as soon as he set foot inside. He ran the water again, delaying the moment when he would have to leave. He had already showered for so long that his skin had wrinkled, and his wife—his Nairene wife, for Radis had taken a newly ordained Sister called Paylea as his bride—would by now be wondering what was keeping him. They had only been married for a few months. Their betrothal had come as something of a surprise to Radis, but it was an honor that could not be refused. And Paylea was beautiful. Radis could still not quite bring himself to believe that she was his.
Indeed, sometimes he doubted if she truly was.
A tiny communicator lay by the sink. It was the reason why Radis was in the bathroom. After all, he could hardly tear himself from the arms of his wife to look at a message from a communicator of whose existence she was unaware. Soon, though, he would have to abandon it. He could hear Paylea in the bedroom. She had already asked him once if he was okay, and he had no desire to arouse her suspicions.
“Please,” Radis whispered, “please.”
The communicator blinked into life, and projected a message on the mirror: the shuttle had left Avila Minor without its cargo. The message remained in place for only a few seconds, then vanished. Radis immediately placed the communicator in the sink, and turned on the hot water. He watched as the communicator disintegrated and the pieces swept away like ash. He closed his eyes in despair. After so many years of
Then the light was gone. The memory of it burned in Elda’s eyes as something hard and sharp closed around her neck. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged, for her head was already separating from her body.
And the feeding began.
CHAPTER 14
T hey called it the City of Spires. Tannis: the jewel of Illyr, the largest, most glamorous, and most populous metropolis on the planet. It was the seat of government, the center of power. It took its name from its architecture, the great slivers of glass and metal that extended like stalagmites into the air, seemingly scraping the very heavens above.
Tannis, the City of Spires.
Tannis, the City of Spies.
• • •
The building was known as the Tree of Lights. It housed five thousand of the most wealthy and powerful citizens of Illyr, all of them Diplomats or individuals with connections—professional or personal—to the Diplomatic Corps. Its security was exceeded only by that of the Parliament itself, with whom it shared a significant number of residents. In a city of tall slim structures, the Tree of Lights was notable for its unusual design: a tall central support column that housed offices and essential systems and then, spreading above it, a great crown of luxurious apartments connected by branches containing moving walkways and discreet elevators; hanging gardens that formed their own ecosystems within the building; and landing pads for the shuttles and skimmers used by its residents. The Tree of Lights was not uncontroversial. Some felt that its shape was not in keeping with Tannis’s architectural character, but since they lacked the power, money, and influence of those who had approved the design, funded its construction, and now lived in it, their views went largely unheeded. Anyway, as far as the residents of the Tree of Lights were concerned, they had notdisturbed the cityscape of Tannis at all, for they were able to look out of their windows and see only gilded spires. It was for others to look upon the Tree of Lights, and envy those who lived among its branches.
In one of the topmost suites, a Diplomat named Radis stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. His bald skull was beaded with sweat, even though the room had instantly cooled to his preferred temperature as soon as he set foot inside. He ran the water again, delaying the moment when he would have to leave. He had already showered for so long that his skin had wrinkled, and his wife—his Nairene wife, for Radis had taken a newly ordained Sister called Paylea as his bride—would by now be wondering what was keeping him. They had only been married for a few months. Their betrothal had come as something of a surprise to Radis, but it was an honor that could not be refused. And Paylea was beautiful. Radis could still not quite bring himself to believe that she was his.
Indeed, sometimes he doubted if she truly was.
A tiny communicator lay by the sink. It was the reason why Radis was in the bathroom. After all, he could hardly tear himself from the arms of his wife to look at a message from a communicator of whose existence she was unaware. Soon, though, he would have to abandon it. He could hear Paylea in the bedroom. She had already asked him once if he was okay, and he had no desire to arouse her suspicions.
“Please,” Radis whispered, “please.”
The communicator blinked into life, and projected a message on the mirror: the shuttle had left Avila Minor without its cargo. The message remained in place for only a few seconds, then vanished. Radis immediately placed the communicator in the sink, and turned on the hot water. He watched as the communicator disintegrated and the pieces swept away like ash. He closed his eyes in despair. After so many years of
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