The Hidden City (32 page)

‘I just thought of something.'

‘What now?'

‘It just occurred to me that Tynian may have been a little unselective when he was gathering those knights he brought back from Chyrellos.'

‘He brought the best men he could lay his hands on.'

‘I think that's the problem. I've been wondering why I haven't been getting any reports from Komier. I don't think Tynian left him a single Pandion who has any more skill than Anosian does. There aren't all that many of you who can reach out more than a few leagues, and Tynian seems to have inadvertently commandeered them all.'

‘Could you make any sense at all about what Anosian was trying to tell you?'

‘It's something about breathing. Somebody's having problems with it. I'll run on down there after we talk with Itagne. Maybe Anosian can be coherent if I'm in the same room with him.'

‘Be nice.'

They passed through the city gates and entered Sarna. Sparhawk carried the Child Goddess through the narrow streets to the bleak stone fortress that housed the local Atan garrison.

They found the red-mantled Itagne in a large conference room examining the map that covered one entire wall. ‘Ah, Itagne,' Sparhawk said, ‘there you are.' He set Flute down on her feet.

‘I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, Sir –?'

‘It's me, Itagne – Sparhawk.'

‘I'll
never
get used to that,' Itagne said. I thought you were in Beresa.'

‘I
was
– until yesterday.'

‘How did you get here so fast?'

Sparhawk laid his hand on Flute's little shoulder. ‘Need you ask?'

‘Oh. What brings you to Sarna?'

‘Vanion ran into trouble out in the desert. He's coming back. He and Betuana are bringing Engessa in on a litter.'

‘Do you mean there's somebody in this world big enough to hurt Engessa?'

‘Perhaps not in
this
world, Itagne,' Aphrael told him. ‘Klæl's brought in an army from someplace else. They're very strange. Vanion and Betuana should get here this afternoon. Then Betuana has to go to Atan. How far is that?'

Itagne looked at the map. ‘Fifteen leagues.'

‘Good. It shouldn't take her long, then. She has to get her God's permission for me to take Engessa to the island. The side of his head's been bashed in, and I can't fix that here.'

‘Good God!' Itagne exclaimed.

‘How nice of you to notice.'

He smiled faintly. ‘What else is going on?' he asked.

‘Quite a bit,' Sparhawk told him. ‘Zalasta tried to kill Sephrenia.'

‘You're not serious!'

‘I'm afraid so. We had to use Bhelliom to save her life.'

‘Sparhawk!' Itagne's eyes widened.

‘It's all right Itagne,' Aphrael assured him, going across the room to him and holding out her hands.

‘Didn't that endanger Queen Ehlana?' he asked, lifting her into his lap.

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘Xanetia can muffle those telltale noises, I guess. Ehlana's still safe – or so Bhelliom tells me.' His face, however, was worried.

‘Thank God!'

‘You're welcome,' Aphrael said, ‘but it was really Bhelliom's idea. We still have some problems, though. Vanion's encounter with Klæl's army cost him about half of his knights.'

‘That's disastrous! We won't be able to hold Samar without those knights!'

‘Don't be quite so sure, Itagne,' she said. I just received a garbled message from a Pandion named Anosian. He's in Samar, and Kring and Tikume have
discovered something about Klæl's soldiers. I'll run down there and find out what's going on.'

‘Klæl's keeping an eye on Berit and Khalad,' sparhawk continued. ‘They saw him while they were crossing the Sea of Arjun,' He rubbed at the side of his face. ‘Can you think of anything else, Aphrael?'

‘Lots of things,' she replied, ‘but they don't have anything to do with what we're doing here.' She kissed Itagne and slipped down out of his lap. ‘I shouldn't be too long,' she told them. ‘If Vanion gets here before I come back, break the news about Sephrenia to him gently and tell him that's she's all right now. Keep a grip on him, gentlemen. It's wintertime, and you need the roof on this building.' She went to the door, opened it, and vanished as she stepped through.

Tiana lay on the north shore of the large lake known as the Sea of Arjun. It was a bustling Tamul town with an extensive harbor. As soon as the scruffy lake-freighter docked, Berit and Khalad led their horses ashore and mounted. ‘What was the name of that inn again?' Khalad asked.

‘The White Gull,' Berit replied.

‘Poetic,' Khalad noted.

‘The other names had probably already been used up. You can only have so many lions and dragons and boars in one town before people start to get confused.'

‘Krager's starting to give us more specific instructions in those notes,' Khalad said. ‘When he sent us to Sopal, he just gave us the name of the town. Now he's picking our accommodations for us. That
might
mean that we're getting closer to the end of this little excursion.'

‘Sir Ulath said that they're going to send us to Arjuna from here.'

‘If I'd known we were going to spend so much time
wandering around this lake, I'd have brought a fishing line.'

‘I'm not really all that fond of fish, myself.'

‘Who is? It's an excuse to get out of the house is about all. My brothers and I found that if we laid around the house too long, our mothers started finding things for us to do.'

‘You've got a strange family, Khalad. Most men only have one mother.'

‘It was Father's idea. There's the White Gull.' Khalad pointed up the street.

The inn was surprisingly clean and substantial. It had a well-maintained stable, and the rooms were neat almost to the point of fussiness. The two young men saw to their horses, dropped their saddlebags off in their room, and took advantage of the bath-house adjoining the rear of the inn. Then, feeling much improved, they adjourned to the taproom to pass the time until supper. Khalad rose and closely examined the porcelain stove. ‘It's an interesting idea,' he told Berit. ‘I wonder if it'd catch on in Eosia.'

‘I sort of like looking at the fire myself,' Berit replied.

‘You can stare at the candles, if that's all you want. A fireplace isn't very efficient, and it makes an awful mess. A stove's a lot more practical – and you can cook on it. When we get home, I think I'll build one for my mothers.'

Berit laughed. ‘If you start tearing up their kitchen, they'll take their brooms to you.'

‘I don't think so. The notion of a stew that doesn't have cinders floating in it might appeal to them.'

The man who approached their table wore a hooded smock, and the hood partially concealed his face. ‘You don't mind if I join you, do you?' he asked, sitting down and pushing the hood back slightly.

It was the same Styric they had last seen on the shore of the Gulf of Micae.

‘You made good time, neighbor,' Berit said. ‘Of course, you knew where you were going, and we didn't.'

‘How long did it take you to get dry?' Khalad asked him.

‘Shall we skip the pleasantries?' the Styric said coldly. ‘I have further instructions for you.'

‘You mean you didn't stop by just to renew our acquaintance?' Khalad said. ‘I'm crushed.'

‘Very funny.' The Styric hesitated. ‘I'm going to reach into my pocket for the note, so don't start drawing your knives.'

‘Wouldn't dream of it, old boy,' Khalad drawled.

‘This is for you, Sparhawk.' The Styric handed Berit the sealed parchment.

Berit took the parchment and broke the seal. He carefully lifted out the identifying lock of the Queen's hair and read aloud, ‘Sparhawk. Go overland to Arjun. You'll receive further instructions there. Krager.'

‘He must have been drunker than usual,' Khalad observed. ‘He didn't bother with all the snide little comments this time. Just out of curiosity, friend, why didn't he send us straight on to Arjun from Sopal? He could have saved everybody a great deal of time.'

‘That's really none of your business, Elene. Just do as you're told.'

‘I'm a peasant, Styric, so I'm used to doing that. Prince Sparhawk here might get a little impatient, though, and that makes him bad-tempered.' Khalad squinted at the lumpy-faced messenger. ‘Since the subject's come up anyway, I've got a word of friendly advice for you, old boy. It's about twenty days on horseback from here to Arjun. He's going to be very unpleasant by the time he gets there. If you should happen to be the one who delivers the next message, I wouldn't get too close to him.'

‘I think we can come up with a way for him to work off his bad temper,' the Styric sneered. ‘You don't
have
twenty days to get to Arjun. You have fourteen,' He stood up. ‘Don't be late.' He turned and started toward the door.

‘Let's go,' Khalad said.

‘Where?'

‘After him.'

‘What for?'

Khalad sighed. ‘To shake him down, Berit,' he explained with exaggerated patience. ‘I want to strip him and go through his clothes. He
might
just have the next message on him.'

‘Are you mad? They'll kill the Queen if we do that.'

‘Just because we rough up their messenger-boy? Don't be silly. They want the Bhelliom, and the Queen's the only thing they've got to trade for it. We could routinely kill every single one of their messengers, and they wouldn't do a thing to her. Let's go shake that Styric up a little bit and go through his pockets. If we can get hold of the next message, we might be able to get the jump on them.'

‘You know, I think you're right. They
won't
do anything to the Queen, will they?'

‘Not a chance, my Lord. Let's go teach that Styric some manners. It's exactly the sort of thing Sparhawk would do.'

‘He
would,
wouldn't he?' Berit looked closely at his friend. ‘That fellow really irritates you, doesn't he?'

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, he does. I don't like his attitude.'

‘Well, let's go change it, then.'

‘I'm not going to do anything foolish,' Kalten said. I just want to have a look around.' The three of them were sitting under their tree in Narstil's cluttered jungle
camp. They had a fire going, and three stolen chickens were spitted over it, dripping grease into the flames.

‘It won't hurt,' Caalador said to Bevier. ‘If the time ever comes when we have to go in there, we should probably know the lay of the land.'

‘Are you sure you can keep a handle on your temper?' Bevier asked Kalten. ‘You'll be all alone there, you know.'

‘I'm all grown up now, Bevier,' Kalten assured him. ‘I'm not going to do anything noisy until
after
things are back the way they should be. We may not get a chance like this again. Senga's invited me to go along to help him sell beer. It's the most natural thing in the world, and nobody's going to recognize me. I can pick up some very valuable information in Natayos, and if I happen to see somebody I recognize standing in a window or something, we'll know for sure exactly where those two friends of ours are located. Then the fellow with the broken nose can have a word with his blue friend and they can lift them out before anybody even has time to blink. Then we can all go down there and explain just how unhappy we are to certain people.'

‘I'm in favor of it, myself,' Caalador said to Bevier.

‘It's tactically sound,' Bevier admitted, ‘but – uh – Col here doesn't have any way to call for help if he gets in trouble.'

‘I won't need any help, because I'm not going to do anything out of the ordinary. I'm going anyway, Shallag, so don't waste your breath trying to talk me out of it.'

Senga came across the littered camp. ‘The cart's all loaded, Col,' he called. ‘Are you about ready?'

Kalten stood up. ‘Any time you are, Senga,' he replied, pulling his half-cooked chicken off the spit and going to join his new-found friend. ‘I'm getting bored just sitting here counting trees.'

It took the two of them about three hours to reach Natayos, since there is no real way to hurry an ox. The trail was fairly well traveled, and it wound around through the jungle, following the course of least resistance.

‘There it is,' Senga said as the cart jolted through a ford that crossed a narrow stream. He pointed across the stump-dotted clearing at an ancient city, a ruin so old that the passage of centuries had rounded down the very stones. ‘Stay close to me when we get there, Col. There are a couple of places we have to keep away from. There's one building right near the gate that they
really
don't want anybody to go near.'

‘Oh?' Kalten said, squinting at the mossy ruin ahead. ‘What's inside that makes them so touchy?'

‘I haven't the faintest idea, and I'm not curious enough to risk my health by asking.'

‘Maybe the building's their treasure house,' Kalten speculated. ‘If this army's as big as you say, they've probably picked up quite a bit of loot.'

Senga shrugged. ‘It could be, I suppose, but I'm not going to fight all those guards just to find out. We're here to sell beer, Col. We'll get a goodly share of their treasure that way, and it's not as risky.'

‘But it's so
honest,'
Kalten objected, grinning. ‘Isn't honest work immoral for people like us?'

Senga laughed and tapped the ox's rump with the long, slender stick he carried. The creaking cart jolted over the uneven ground toward the moldering walls.

‘Ho, Senga!' one of the slovenly guards at the gate greeted Kalten's friend. ‘What kept you? It's been as dry as a plate of sand since the last time you left.'