Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 318
should conveniently remain on the altar, rather than rampaging
indiscriminately across the land.
The Winds were utterly inconsistent about enforcing their
ecological rules where it came to Man. He had seen it himself;
there were smelters in some of the larger towns, pouring black
smoke into the atmosphere, while the tiny waft of sulphur
dioxide he had used in chemical warfare in one battle had cost
Armiger his entire army. The Winds had obliterated every man
involved in the engagement. Armiger had stood helplessly on
the crown of the hill where he was directing his troops, and
watched as they all died.
He had felt nothing at the time. Remembering now, he
suppressed an urge to pick up the book he touched, and throw
it through the window.
Something was going on here. The Winds were neither
malicious, nor mad, nor were they indifferent to humanity.
They were obeying some tangle of rules he simply hadn’t seen
yet. If he could find out what it was...
Something made him turn. There was no one in the
room, and Megan hadn’t moved. Nonetheless, he sensed
someone nearby.
A woman was weeping out in the hallway.
Armiger dressed, then blew out the candle, which itself
had been an extravagance. In his time here he had heard more
weeping than laughter. There was nothing unusual in it. But
without knowing exactly why, he found himself walking
hesitantly to the door.
It opened soundlessly onto a pitch-dark hallway. There
were windows at either end of the corridor, but they didn’t
illuminate, only served as contrast to the blackness within.
For a moment Armiger stood blind as any man, surprised