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entered the first belt of the city proper.
The walls were set off on either side by open parklands a hundred yards
across. One could follow the high limestone barrier as it stretched away for
leagues in either direction, marked off by the surrounding ribbon of green.
The shimmering white wall set in a field of green created a stunning effect,
but Mark realized that it was not merely for esthetics, since the open space
provided clear fields of fire both in front of the barrier line and behind. He
knew that Allic and all the others referred to Jartan as a god, but it struck
him as curious that a god would still rely on medieval defenses for his
capital city.
As they flew towards the heart of the city, a second barrier a hundred feet
high lay before them with the same open space of gardens laid out in front.
Following Allic's lead, the party rose and passed over the second line of
fortifications into the city proper. With a wheeling turn they followed the
wall for several hundred yards and then turned again over an open thoroughfare
a hundred or more yards across.
"The Avenue of the Gods," Allic said, falling back to fly by Mark's side.
Buildings of limestone and marble rose half a thousand feet into the air, so
that it was like flying down a canyon of burnished stone that shimmered,
reflected, and rereflected the morning sun. Some of the buildings were shaped
like great pyramids or giant obelisks, while others appeared like Greco-Roman
temples, with massive fluted columns and broad stairs that were now crowded
with people. More than one building even had a vaguely modern look to it, with
huge sections of glass and polished metal.
Mark slowed for a moment, fascinated by a unique arrangement where a huge
mirror, turned by a clock mechanism, caught the light of the sun and sent its
image to a relay of fifty or more mirrors positioned down the length of the
street. The mirrors in turn reflected the light to other mirrors or to giant
prisms, so that rainbow splashes cut into every corner of the avenue,
generating a lively interplay of color that darkened for moment with the
passing of a cloud, then exploded with dazzling intensity so that it seemed as
though rainbow after rainbow arced across the thoroughfare.
Music drifted on the breeze, the chanting of priests from one temple
counterpointed by a wild pulsing roar of bagpipes from another, which mingled
with a hundred different songs from the crowds, musicians, and street vendors.
The air was filled with a shifting patina of scents--incense from the temples,
cooked food from street vendors, the smells of a vibrant city full of life,
and the scent of the not so distant sea.
Yet Mark sensed that all this was but a prelude. For at the far end of the
avenue he could see the inner core of the city, surrounded by a wall that was
nearly twice as high again as the one they had passed over minutes before. The
gate facing out onto the Avenue of the Gods was yet to be opened.
"Now we enter my father's true court," Allic said, and motioned for the others
to swing behind him in single file. Slowing, he drifted up and over the wall.
The sound of a waterfall filled the air, and as Mark crested the barrier he
saw a magnificent array of fountains arranged around the sides of a large
hexagonal pyramid in the center of a vast courtyard. Atop the pyramid was yet
another clock-driven mirror which reflected to more mirrors and prisms. The
light in turn was reflected back to the fountains, so that the entire
courtyard was awash in brilliance.
Dozens of jets of water leaped a hundred feet into the air, swirling in a
pattern that shifted with every passing second. Mark could not help but laugh
as Allic swept downward, cutting in and out through the high arcing jets of
liquid, and then he noticed that there were others flying through and about
the fountains as if this were an elaborate game.
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Below in the courtyard he could see hundreds of upturned faces calling and
laughing as the sorcerers circled in and out, dodging as new jets erupted.
There was a gentle pulsing of music in the air, and Mark realized that he
sensed it more than he heard it.
It held a wild, haunting beat that resonated in him.
Diving, he swung in behind Allic, and as the tempo of the music increased, so
did the changing pattern of water jets.
A cheer came up from below, and looking over his shoulder, Mark saw that a
sorcerer had been tumbled end over end by a blast of water. The crestfallen
flyer regained his control and swung out of the play area to settle on one of
the small islands in the lagoon that surrounded the fountain.
So, Mark realized, it was yet another game of flying.
Faster and faster the jets switched on and off. He visualized it as dodging
streams of flak coming from below. Suddenly as he raced in close along the
pyramid wall, a concealed jet erupted and struck him hard in the chest,
sending him tumbling. Regaining control at the last moment, he skimmed low
across the water and alighted at the water's edge, where a laughing spectator
offered him a goblet of wine.
"Outlander, hey?" the old man inquired.
"Guess you could say that," Mark replied politely.
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