The Crow (32 page)

"It will do." Saliman's teeth flashed white as he grinned, and took a deep draught of medhyl. "Come, the worst is over. We are almost there."

XIII

N
EWS
F
ROM
A
NNAR

After running the gauntlet of the entrance to Nal-Ak-Burat, the last thing Hem expected to see was an actual gate. But there it was, right in front of him: a plain gate of brass glimmering dully in the magelight, stretching up to twice his height.

It was not far from the Gate of Water. They had walked away from the cliff, and the roof of the huge cavern had gradually become lower until once again they were walking through a cave, although this one was broad and high. Soon they had reached a wall that had clearly been made by human hands, and set into the wall was the brass gate.

Saliman reached out his hand and pushed the gate, and slowly it opened. A warm, flickering rush light spilled out into the cold darkness. From behind Saliman's shoulder, Hem peered through curiously, but could see nothing, apart from a torch flaming in a bracket by the gate.

Saliman quickly ushered them through, and soundlessly the brass gate closed behind them. They were in what appeared to be a broad thoroughfare, flagged with stone. It was lined on either side by windowless walls that were pierced irregularly with carved portals blocked by doors of the same dull brass as the gate they had just passed through. Others opened onto black passageways. The hair prickled on Hem's neck; perhaps someone stood in those black doorways and watched them.

"How strange!" said Zelika, and jumped. Her voice sounded unexpectedly loud. Aside from the faint crackle of the burning torch and their own breathing, the street was utterly silent, and her voice bounced disconcertingly.

"Yes, it is strange," said Saliman, taking the torch from its bracket and leading them down the street. "Strange and beautiful and sad. But let's find Hared. He won't be far from here."

With more eagerness than he had felt since they had entered the caves, Hem followed hard on Saliman's heels, down the empty, dark streets. Sometimes they saw flights of steps between the walls, leading into darkness, and far off, on heights and gulfs they could only dimly perceive, the outlines of more buildings. Sheltered from the scouring of wind and sun, the stone looked as if it might have been carved yesterday; every now and then he saw a crack in a wall, where the earth might have shifted, but that was all.

"What is this place?" Hem asked Saliman, as he hurried after him. "Who lived here?"

"Nobody knows," said Saliman. "Once this city must have been fair and populous; it stretches a league at least from end to end. And yet scarcely anything remains in memory of those who lived here – a line in a song here, a child's rhyme there..."

"Then how did you know about the Gates?" asked Zelika. "Somebody must have known."

"Bards have long memories," Saliman answered. "The site of this city, and how to enter it, has been passed down through the ages, from Bard to Bard. So, Hem and Zelika, count yourselves fortunate! Not many alive have seen this city. In the Great Silence, after the Nameless One overran the Eastern Suderain, Nal-Ak-Burat was used as a base from which to harry his forces. Alas, we were stronger then than we are now: for neither Baladh nor Turbansk fell to the Nameless One in those dark times. It was wise to keep this place secret, against the time we might need it again."

At this, they turned out of the street into a massive square, and Hem gasped. Here the roof of the cavern leaped away, out of sight, so it was almost as if they stood in the open air. Ire gave a hopeful caw; for a brief moment he had thought they were outside under a night sky. Nearby was a Bard lamp, and its pure, steady light falling onto the pale stone made Hem blink. They still could not see any sign of people. Hem wondered briefly why there were no guards or watchmen, but then thought of the Three Gates. They were surely guard enough.

Carved into the rock wall to their left was a wide doorway, its lintel surrounded by the same strange runes they had seen by the Three Gates. Saliman led them inside, into a huge, well-illuminated chamber. The walls were covered in murals that must once have been bright, but now the colors were so faint it was hard to make them out; he saw the shape of an ibis, and a strange beast with the head of a lion and the body of a woman. There was an incongruous smell, faint but unmistakable, of cooking: spices and meat. Hem's mouth started to water.

Saliman stood by the door and shouted Hared's name, making the children jump. It sounded much too loud in that silent place.

"If I'm not mistaken, it is time for dinner," said Saliman, turning with a smile. "Or breakfast. Who knows what time it is in the upper world? A meal, anyway."

"Something hot would be right welcome," said Soron. "I am sick to my back teeth of dried dates."

But now they heard footsteps, and a man entered the chamber from the far end and came toward them. He was very tall, and his skin was very black, darker even than Saliman's, and he was dressed simply in a tunic and loose trousers. He looked older than Saliman, and tougher. Unconsciously Hem drew closer to Saliman as he approached them.

"Greetings, Saliman," the man said soberly, taking his hand and embracing him. "I should be more glad to see you, if it were not for the news your presence brings. So Turbansk has fallen?"

"Alas, it is so, Hared. You have not heard?"

The man dropped his eyes, and was briefly silent.

"News has been hard to come by, the past week," he said at last. "These are evil days. Alas, for my home! We must skulk in the heart of the earth, and struggle for better times. But tell me, who are your companions? You bring children here?" He stared with undisguised curiosity and a touch of disapproval at Hem and Zelika. Ire, who was recovering some of his normal equilibrium, gave a defiant caw.

"You know Soron of Til Amon," said Saliman shortly. "Hared of Turbansk, this is Hem of Turbansk, and our friend Zelika of the House of II Aran, of Baladh. Now, my friend, we have traveled far, and we are hungry: we can smell your dinner. Is there enough to share?"

Hared nodded courteously in greeting, although the look of disapproval on his face did not fade. "There is plenty to share. Plain food, but good. Though now a famous cook has joined us, eh? Perhaps things are looking up."

"Are the others inside?"

"A few of us," said Hared. "Come."

He strode to the far end of the room, and disappeared into a wide hallway, also well-lit. Zelika and Hem trailed after the others, feeling awkward and shy; Hared was rather intimidating. As they neared the end of the passage, they began to hear the murmur of people talking. It made Hem realize that he had not heard other people for days on end. They entered a small chamber, decorated like the larger room with faded murals, and warmed by a brazier of glowing coals. In the middle was a low table of polished stone, and around it were, surprisingly, a number of comfortable cushions, covered in brightly colored silks. The table itself was set for a meal, with many small brass dishes of sauces and even a jug of wine. Around it sat four people: a man and three women. Hem saw immediately that they were all Bards, but he didn't recognize any of them. The tallest woman stood up and greeted them.

Saliman spread out his hands, smiling. "Do not get up, Narbila," he said. "Sufficient courtesy if we are permitted to double your guests, and to rest on those wonderfully soft cushions. My body is bruised from sleeping on rocks."

"It is a hard journey from Turbansk," she said. "But, as always, you time your arrival well, Saliman. Unidan is just bringing dinner. But tell us, who are your friends?"

While Soron and the children were seated and introduced, one of the Bards brought in various dishes from the adjoining room. There were meats in thick sauces, smelling of cardamom and coriander and garlic, and a basket of freshly baked unleavened bread, and a dish of spiced pulses, all served in shallow bowls of intricately engraved brass. Hem was so intent upon the food – he felt as if he had not eaten a solid meal for weeks – that he failed to catch anyone's name; suddenly it was as if a wild animal were clawing at his vitals. Zelika nudged him in his ribs.

"It's rude to glare at food like a starving tiger," she muttered. "You must wash."

Hem started, and cleansed his hands in a dish of water that was being passed around the table. Then, without further formality, they began eating. Ire was being very polite – for him, at least – and remained demurely on Hem's lap while he fed him titbits of meat. Although all the Bards eyed Hem's bird with wonder, they were too courteous to comment on Ire's presence.

Soron tasted the food, and nodded approvingly.

"Very good," he said. "How do you get goat meat down here? And wild duck? I see no farmlands!"

"Fresh meat is rare, so you are lucky," said Hared, smiling. Hem noticed that his smile did not reach his eyes. "The northern entrance to Nal-Ak-Burat is not so forbidding as the Three Gates, if arduous in other ways, and supplies are more easily brought through there, if we can get them. And at a pinch – though we are not so desperate at present – there are fish in the lake and bats in the upper caves."

Hem wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating bats.

"Strange fish we find here," said Narbila. "Some do not have eyes. But good to eat, if cooked well."

Hem's whole attention was on food for some time. He thought he had never had so delicious a meal. But once his initial hunger was allayed, he began to take notice of the Bards, and to sort out who was who. Narbila, the tall woman, and Hared seemed to bear the most authority, although there was little sense of a hierarchy. They were, Hem found out later, both members of Turbansk's Second Circle. The other three Bards – Orona, Nimikera, and Irisanu – had the paler skin of those from farther east; Nimikera originally hailed from Jerr-Niken, a School that had been razed by the Nameless One shortly after Pellinor had been destroyed, and Irisanu was from Baladh. Orona did not say where she came from.

None of the Bards mentioned Turbansk until their guests had finished eating. Hem realized that this was out of courtesy, and not lack of interest; when Narbila asked Saliman for news of Turbansk, her voice trembled.

Saliman told what had happened to the city, and the Bards listened attentively without interrupting, their eyes downcast. When he spoke of Juriken summoning the earthquake, the Bards gasped, and Hem saw that even Hared's eyes clouded. When Saliman finished his story, there was a long, heavy silence.

"It is good to have news," said Hared at last. "Even such sorrowful news as that you bring. I thank you. We have heard nothing from Turbansk since Imank besieged it. Even our birds could not get past the Black Army."

"Aye, well," said Soron. "It is a heavy grief, to live in such times as these, and to tell such things. It will get darker, I trow, before the end. But Hared, have you news yourself? Do you know what is happening in Annar? I confess, my heart hungers to hear of my old home, Til Amon."