Necromancer Falling: Book Two of The Mukhtaar Chronicles (63 page)

As he opened the galley door, he offered a silent prayer that his brother would be safe, regardless of what may happen in Dar Rodon.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

In the year 600 BCE, Sayyid Cham stepped over the threshold, becoming Sayyid Lord Mukhtaar Cham. Lord Cham was in his fiftieth year when he ascended. In the year 565 BCE he took Abd Al-Hakim Shadid as his postulate and taught him the secrets of ascension. He remains the only Mukhtaar Lord known to have taken a postulate.

- The Mukhtaar Chronicles, Second Cycle, 10 CE

Not anymore.

- Mujahid Mukhtaar, Private Commentaries, 139 CE

Nicolas and Kaitlyn emerged from a sewage grate in a narrow street.

Where the palace grounds had been grand, with walls akin to alabaster, the adobe buildings of the city of Dar Rodon were haphazard in their construction. Some buildings had a pronounced lean, most likely the result of all the earthquakes. Ropes with drying linens stretched from windows high across the desolate marketplace. Abandoned tents of diaphanous fabric stood along both sides of the street, where merchants herded unsold livestock that looked like something out of a fever-induced dream—mammalian animals with beaks and feathers, insectoid creatures that barked like dogs, and birds with feline eyes and claws.

The marketplace sprawled on for several blocks, spilling into the various cross streets that intersected at odd intervals and angles.

They may have escaped the palace. But how the hell were they going to get out of the
city
?

“Zorian has the translocation orb,” Nicolas said. “And we can’t exactly get a boat out of here with the armada in the bay.”

“You’ve got this all wrong, Nick,” Kaitlyn said. “I didn’t ask you to bring me here just to
leave
when things got a little dangerous. The armada is exactly why I came, remember?”

“Things have changed since we made that plan. Zorian has miniature shrillers he’s using to kill guards. And then there’s Saleem.”

“You don’t have to worry about Saleem. The reason he took me away was to train me. But he discovered pretty quick that I’m more powerful. And then he started acting like he was afraid of me. Some nonsense about my magic being unnatural. He freaked out when I entered his mind from across the room. Apparently I’m not supposed to be able to do that without physical contact.”

Nicolas stopped and leaned against the corner of a sandstone building.

“What about Aelron and Morrigan?” Kaitlyn asked. “They’re on the way here with the protoforge fragments.”

“Not so loud.” Nicolas glanced around furtively, but the only people around were two men in brown robes and white cinctures. Arinian priests. Nicolas recognized the Arinian robes he used to sneak into the Pinnacle and confront Kagan.

Mujahid had mentioned the Arinians on a few occasions. An idea began to form.

“The Arinian priests are sworn to serve the archmage,” Nicolas said. “They’ll do anything they can to help. Maybe paying a visit to their mother house is in order?”

But where was their temple? Perhaps someone in the marketplace could help.

An old woman passed them in an obvious hurry. She pulled an animal on a leash that was doing its best to
not
be a goat. Six legs—an Erindorian phenomenon Nicolas was still getting used to—lithe body, short hair and tail, tiny horns, hooves, and the same bleating noise. But that’s where the similarities ended. The creature’s mouth was a set of interlocking pincers, and it had four coal-black eyes—two widely spaced in the center of its face, and two close together on top of its forehead.

It was too disturbing to look at for any length of time, so Nicolas did his best to ignore it as he approached the woman. Hopefully it wouldn’t bite. Or slice. Or rip. Or whatever the hell those pincers did.

Nicolas touched her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he said.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. She yelled something in a language Nicolas didn’t understand and dragged the poor
non
-goat away bleating behind her.

Well that was helpful.

He wasn’t going to get far if he couldn’t understand their language.

And why was that anyway? He understood people in Tildem and the Shandarian Union, who spoke something Mujahid called
the common tongue
. He even understood the Cichlos. But he couldn’t understand some Religarian woman pulling a
goatbug
behind her?

“Seriously, Nick?” Kaitlyn asked. “
That’s
how you come up on someone in a strange city?”

Bells began to toll. Their deep harmonies intertwined and reverberated from towers along the palace walls.

Nicolas and Kaitlyn crossed the street to the nearest merchant tent.

A tall person with his or her back to them was packing up something that looked like snake skins at the back of the tent.

“Excuse me,” Nicolas said.

The merchant turned, and Nicolas jumped.

The merchant—he, she, whatever—was many things, but
human
wasn’t one of them.

“Rude,” the creature said. “Even for a Council magus.”

Nicolas stared, his heart racing.

Its voice was masculine—human-like in its normality, though it hissed like a snake when he said
Council
magus
. His eyes were reptilian, and his overlapping, iridescent scales were the color of jade. His snout ended in two tiny holes, and a forked tongue flitted in and out of his narrow mouth.

The merchant drew its—his—shoulders back.

“I appreciate your patronage, sir, but I will not tolerate rudeness. Even if you’re the only person stupid enough to be
shopping
when there’s an impending invasion.”

Nicolas blinked.

“We’re very sorry,” Kaitlyn said. “We’re not from around here, so we don’t know the customs.”

Nicolas nodded. “And we’ve never seen a…”

“A
what
?”

Time to change the subject.

“Can you tell us how to find the Arinian temple?” Nicolas asked.

“Gladly,” the merchant said. “Their sermons on diversity will serve you well.”

The merchant leaned out of the tent.

“Three blocks to the north you’ll find the
Sharea Ar-Ra’isi
.”

“The
what
?”

The merchant blinked the transparent inner lids of his reptilian eyes. “The
main street
. If you’re going to wander around a Religarian city, particularly one that will be a war zone soon, you’d better learn a little Religarian.
Sharea Ar-Ra’isi
. Main street.”

“Gotcha,” Nicolas said. “Where do I go once I get there?”

“Left. You’ll see the temple, don’t worry. But stay on the right side of the road until you reach the Shar—the
main street.
There are some who aren’t as welcoming to strangers as I am.”

“You said this place was going to turn into a war zone soon. I’m aware of the armada, but you sounded as if you meant something more specific than that.”

The merchant
harrumphed
. “Barathosian soldiers have been appearing in the streets.”

“Have they attacked?” Nicolas asked.

“No,” the merchant said. “They appear, draw sketches for a couple of minutes, then vanish.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicolas said. “Did you say
sketches
?”

“Always in pairs. One soldier in leather armor, with a wide-brimmed hat. The other in a gray robe. It’s always the gray robe doing the sketching.”

In Caspardis, Barathosians appeared and
attacked
. Now they were
drawing pictures
?

“The bells we’re hearing aren’t a good thing, are they?” Nicolas said.

“Palace alarm. The guards are after someone.”

“Thanks again…”

“Komoden,” the merchant said. “You should travel more.”

Nicolas nodded. “Thanks, Komoden.”

“Komoden is
what
I am, not
who
I am. Now repeat after me.
May you always find the sun
.”

Nicolas was confused, but he did as asked.

“Good,” the merchant said. “Now you know how to part ways with a Komoden without sounding like an ignorant human.”

“Uh…thank you?”

“May you always find the sun.”

Nicolas and Kaitlyn slipped back into the street and crossed to the right side, as the Komoden had advised.

“Sketching,” Nicolas said. “Bizarre.”

“Not as bizarre as it sounds,” Kaitlyn said. “The cichlos said chimeramancers turn dream into reality. If I were going to create a new dream, but I wanted it to be as close to reality as possible, it might be more effective if I knew the area in advance. What could be better than a drawing?”

They came to an avenue at least four times the width of the other streets. This had to be the Sharea Ar-Ra’isi the Komoden mentioned.

The adobe-like buildings were a single story tall, with few exceptions. But one building stood out among the rest, several blocks away. Its whitewashed walls towered over the other buildings by several stories. Unlike the palace walls, however, this building had no gold filigree.

“That has to be the temple,” Nicolas said, as the palace bells tolled once more.

A patrol of palace guards marched into the street from an alley near the temple. Nicolas needed to act fast.

Tents lining the main street stood several feet from the buildings, creating a walkway of sorts. Nicolas guided Kaitlyn into the walkway and ducked behind the nearest tent. When the patrol passed, they ran toward the temple.

A booming thunderclap didn’t only startle Nicolas and Kaitlyn. It also spooked a strange feline creature with too many legs, which jumped from behind a tent and skittered across the street in front of them.

As they approached the next intersection, another patrol of guards emptied onto the main street. Kaitlyn jumped sideways into an alcove between two tents, and Nicolas followed her lead.

He peeked around the corner and spotted an alley down the nearest side street.

“This way,” he said.

The narrow alley was a canyon between two steep walls, blocking what little sunlight shone through the storm clouds. Debris, mostly garbage, littered the alley, creating one obstacle after another.

Several large crates and barrels stood against the wall up ahead.

A popping sound made Nicolas stop as he reached the first barrel. He signaled to Kaitlyn to move back behind the nearest crate, and they squatted as far down as possible.

Two Barathosians appeared in the alley ahead, and one of them—the older one—wore a gray robe. The younger wore the leather uniform of a Barathosian soldier, complete with holster and bandolier across the shoulder.

“You should stay here, Mester Vincen,” the soldier said. “I’ll scout the alley first.”

“Do what you must, but don’t slow me down,” Mester Vincen said. “And maintain the count. I want this area complete before Gabril nullifies the chimera.”

“Forgive me,” the soldier said. “Shall we call it ninety? Should be close enough.”

“Eighty. Be conservative. Fewer surprises that way.”

Mester Vincen retrieved a narrow cylinder the color of graphite from his robe. In his other hand, he held a tablet with a piece of parchment clipped to the surface.

“Seventy five,” the soldier said.

Mester Vincen looked up and down the alley, finally settling his gaze in the direction Nicolas and Kaitlyn had been running.

“The harbor is there,” Mester Vincen said. “That means the temple is back that way.”

The soldier glanced around the alley. “Fifty.”

“I need more time,” Mester Vincen said.

“Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid,” the soldier said. He walked several paces away from the crate Nicolas and Kaitlyn hid behind. “Perhaps you should train Gabril a little better?”

Mester Vincen took measured steps across the alley, then wrote something on the parchment.

“Thirty five.” The soldier turned and walked back.

“This will take
hours
at this rate!”

“Why doesn’t Gabril
chimeraport
you to one of the mapped locations?”