The Hidden City (42 page)

‘I'm sorry, friend Vanion. Did you lose many old comrades?'

‘Many, Domi Kring,' Vanion replied sadly, ‘many.'

‘How's friend Engessa coming along?' Kring asked Betuana.

‘Aphrael says that he's recovering, Domi,' she replied. ‘I'd like to see that for myself, though.'

Itagne returned, accompanied by a Tamul wearing slightly out-of-date clothing. ‘Would you please see to it that we're not disturbed?' he said to the Atan guard in the hall. Then he closed and bolted the door. ‘I have some good news for a change,' he said then. He put his hand on the stranger's shoulder. ‘This is my very dear – though new-found friend, Ekrasios,' he said.

Betuana frowned. ‘That is not a Tamul name,' she said.

‘No, your Majesty,' Itagne agreed, ‘it's not. Actually, it's Delphaeic. The Delphae are such a musical people. It probably derives from the fact that they still speak classical Tamul. My friend here just stopped by to advise us that the Delphae have decided to come out of their splendid seclusion. Ekrasios, this is Preceptor Vanion, the close friend of Anakha. The regal lady is Betuana, Queen of the Atans. The short fellow is Domi Kring of the western Peloi. The tall, pretty girl with the death-grip on his hand is Mirtai, his betrothed, and the exquisite Styric lady is Sephrenia, High Priestess of the Goddess Aphrael.'

‘Nobles all,' Ekrasios greeted them with a formal bow. ‘I bring greetings from Beloved Edaemus. Divine Aphrael hath persuaded him that we have common cause in the current situation, and he hath thus relaxed his centuries-old prohibition upon us. I am sent to thee, Lord Vanion, to advise thee that I and diverse companions are at thine immediate disposal. Where might we best be deployed to further our cause?'

‘If I may, Lord Vanion?' Itagne interposed. ‘It just occurred to me that the Delphae might be best suited to empty those ruins in the Arjuni jungles. If Ekrasios and his friends were to appear in all their glowing splendor at the gates of Scarpa's camps down there,
the rebels would probably go back home and take up peaceful pursuits, just as fast as they possibly could.'

‘Well said,' Mirtai murmured her agreement.

‘He certainly moves around, doesn't he?' Ulath said to Tynian as the beer wagon with Sparhawk and Kalten perched atop the barrels rumbled past on the ancient street. ‘Last I heard, he was in Dirgis.'

‘The natcherl rules don't seem t' apply t' ol' Spor-hawk,' Tynian replied in a bad imitation of Caalador's dialect. ‘What do you think? Should we slip back into real time? Or should we stay where we are?'

‘I think we'll be more useful if we stay out of sight,' Ulath replied.

‘That's fine with me, but how are we going to get word to Sparhawk and the others that we're here?'

‘I'll slip a note in his pocket – or blow in his ear.'

‘That ought to get his attention.'

Bhlokw came shambling back up the street with a mournful expression on his ape-like face. ‘There are no dogs here,' he reported in Trollish.

‘Soldiers don't usually keep dogs, Bhlokw,' Tynian explained.

‘I have hunger, Tin-in. Would the man-things here miss one of their herd – a small one?'

‘We might have a problem here,' Tynian muttered to Ulath. ‘It's definitely in our best interests to keep our friend here well-fed.'

Ulath scratched at his now clean-shaven cheek. ‘We can't just turn him loose,' he noted. ‘He'll attract attention if he starts grabbing people and jerking them into these broken moments.'

‘He's invisible, Ulath.'

‘Yes, but if some Arjuni suddenly vanishes and his bones start getting tossed back out of nowhere, it's bound to attract attention.' He turned back to the Troll.
‘It is our thought that it would not be good for you to kill and eat the man-things here, Bhlokw. We hunt thought here, and if you kill and eat the man-things, you will frighten the thought away.'

‘I do not like this hunting of thought, U-lat,' Bhlokw complained. ‘It makes things not-simple.'

‘The forest is near, Bhlokw,' Tynian said. ‘There must be many good-to-eat things there.'

‘I am not an Ogre, Tin-in,' Bhlokw protested in a slightly offended tone. ‘I do not eat trees.'

‘There should be creatures that are good-to-eat among the trees, Bhlokw,' Ulath said. ‘That is what Tin-in was trying to say. It was not his thought to insult you.'

Bhlokw glowered at Tynian for a moment. ‘I will go hunt now,' he said abruptly. Then he turned and shambled off.

‘You have to be careful, Tynian,' Ulath warned his friend. ‘If you want to get into a fight almost immediately, all you have to do is suggest to a Troll that he might be an Ogre.'

‘They're actually prejudiced?' Tynian asked in amazement.

‘You wouldn't
believe
how prejudiced,' Ulath replied. ‘Trolls and Ogres have hated each other since the beginning of time.'

‘I thought that prejudice was a human failing.'

‘Some things are just too good to stay private, I guess. Let's follow Sparhawk and let him know that we're here. He might have something for us to do.'

They trailed along behind the beer caravan winding through the cleared streets toward that part of Natayos that was still choked in brush and vines. The wagons trundled along a recently cleared street and then went around behind a canvas-roofed building identified by a crudely lettered sign that read ‘Senga's'.

‘Trust Kalten to get close to the beer,' Tynian said.

‘Truly,' Ulath agreed. ‘Wait here. I'll go let Sparhawk know that we're in Natayos.' He walked over to where Sparhawk, Kalten, and Bevier, looking strange with their altered features, stood off to one side while Senga supervised the unloading of the barrels. ‘Ramshorn,' he said quietly. ‘Don't get excited and start looking around,' he added. ‘You won't be able to see me.'

‘Ulath?' Kalten asked incredulously.

‘Right. Tynian, Bhlokw and I got here yesterday. We've been nosing around.'

‘How have you managed to become invisible?' the patch-eyed Bevier asked.

‘We aren't, actually. Ghnomb's breaking the seconds into two pieces. We're only present during the smaller piece. That's why you can't see us.'

‘But you can see
us!'

‘Yes.'

‘Ulath, that's logically inconsistent.'

‘I know, but Ghnomb
believes
that it works, and I guess his belief is strong enough to override logic. Tynian and I are here, and nobody can see us. Is there anything you want us to do?'

‘Can you get into that building near the gate?' Sparhawk asked quickly. ‘The one with the barred windows?'

‘Not a chance. We already looked into the possibility. Too many guards on the doors. Bhlokw even tried going in through the roof, but it's all sealed up.'

‘That's my
wife
in there, Ulath!' Sparhawk exclaimed. ‘Are you saying that you tried to send a
Troll
into the same building with her?'

‘Bhlokw wouldn't have hurt her, Sparhawk – frightened her a little, maybe, but he wouldn't have hurt her. We sort of thought he might be able to go in through the roof, pick Ehlana and Alean up, and carry them out.' Ulath paused. ‘It wasn't really our idea, Sparhawk.
Bhlokw volunteered – well, actually he didn't even volunteer. He just started climbing up the wall before we could stop him. He said, “I will go get them. I will bring Anakha's mate and her friend out so that we can kill all these children of Cyrgon and eat them.” Bhlokw's a little elemental, but his heart's in the right place. I hate to admit it, but I'm actually starting to like him.'

Kalten looked around nervously. ‘Where is he now?' he asked.

‘He's out hunting. When we were knocking around those cities by the lake, we persuaded him not to eat people. We got him started on dogs instead. He really likes them, but there aren't any dogs here in Natayos, so he's out in the woods – probably chasing elephants or something.' Then something flickered at the corner of Ulath's eye. ‘What in God's name is that?' he exclaimed.

‘What?' Kalten asked, looking around in bafflement.

‘There's somebody made out of rainbows coming around the side of the building!' Ulath gaped at the clearly defined shape approaching. The many-colored light was dazzling.

‘That's Xanetia,' Sparhawk explained. ‘Can you actually
see
her?'

‘Are you saying that you
can't?'

‘She's invisible, Ulath.'

‘Not to
me,
she isn't.'

‘It must have something to do with the peculiar time you're in, my friend,' Bevier suggested. ‘You'd better let her know that you can see her. It might be important some day.'

The shimmering rainbow stopped a few paces away. ‘Anakha,' Xanetia said softly.

‘I hear thee, Anarae,' Sparhawk replied.

‘It pains me to tell thee that I have failed,' she confessed. ‘The mind of Scarpa is so twisted that I cannot
wring coherence from his thought. I did gently probe the minds of some of his followers, however, and I must sadly advise thee that thy Queen is no longer here in Natayos. When our enemies did discover the subterfuge involving young Sir Berit, Zalasta did spirit thy wife and her handmaiden away under cover of darkness. I shall endeavor to glean their destination from the thoughts of others here, an it please thee.'

Ulath's heart twisted with sympathy at the look of sudden despair that came over Sparhawk's face.

They ran easily in their endless regiments, tall and lightly armored, with their bronze limbs glowing in the cool grey light. The towering King Androl ran smoothly at the front of his army. It was good to be on the move again, and the prospect of battle was exhilarating. Battle was meaningful, and one could actually
see
results. The absence of his wife had thrust a thousand petty administrative chores on Androl's unprepared shoulders. It was so frustrating to make decisions about things he didn't really understand and not to see any immediate results that would have told him whether or not his decisions had been correct. Once again the King of Atan thanked his God for giving him Betuana for his wife. They made a good team, actually. The Queen was very skilled with details. Her mind was quick, and she could pick out subtleties and nuances that frequently escaped her husband. Androl, on the other hand, was made for action. He gladly let his wife make all the tiresome decisions, and then, when it was all settled and they knew what they were going to do,
he
took charge of carrying her decisions out. It was better that way, actually. The King of Atan was fully aware of his limitations, and he knew that his wife forgave him when he occasionally overlooked something. He hoped that he didn't disappoint her too much.

Her suggestion – she never gave him orders – that he take the bulk of their people to the south end of Lake Sarna in preparation for a grand battle at Tosa was exactly the sort of thing Androl truly loved. Here was action, simple and uncomplicated. The troublesome decisions had all been made, the enemy had been identified, and all the boring details had been swept out of the way. He smiled as he led his army into the last outcropping of mountains some fifty leagues to the southeast of Tualas. Betuana's message had hinted that the battle at Tosa would be a titanic one, a grand clash at arms with struggling armies stretching for miles and the ring of sword against sword reaching to the skies. He would make her proud of him.

The route through the outcropping mountains led up a long ridge-line, through a narrow notch and then down into the deep gorge of a turbulent stream that had gnawed at the rock for eons.

King Androl was breathing a bit heavily when he crested the ridge-line and led his forces through the notch. The wasted hours spent conferring with Ambassador Norkan had taken off Androl's edge. A warrior should never permit himself to be lured away from the practice-field or the exercise yard. He picked up the pace as he led his army down into the narrow gorge, running smoothly along the south bank of the rushing mountain river. If
he
was out of shape, his soldiers probably were as well. He hoped that he could find a suitable place for an encampment at Lake Sarna, a proper encampment with enough space for training and practice and those necessary calisthenics that honed warriors to the peak of fitness. Androl was sublimely confident that
any
opposing force could be overcome if only his army were fully trained and fit.

‘Androl-King!' General Pemaas shouted over the sound of the turbulent stream. ‘Look!'

‘Where?' Androl demanded, half-turning and reaching for his sword.

‘At the top of the gorge – on the right!'

The Atan King craned his neck to peer up the sheer cliff-face to the rocky brink high above.

The King of Atan had seen many things in his life, but nothing to compare with the vast, monstrous form rearing suddenly above them on the rim of the gorge.

The thing was glossy black, like polished leather, and it had enormously out-spreading wings, jointed and batlike. Its wedge-shaped head was accentuated by blazing eye-slits and a gaping mouth that dripped flame.

King Androl considered it. The problem, of course, was the fact that the towering creature was at the top of the gorge while he stood at the bottom. He could turn and retrace his steps, running back up the gorge to the notch and scrambling around the rocks to reach the rim; but that would give the thing plenty of opportunity to run away, and then he would have to chase it down in order to kill it. In his present less-than-perfect condition, that would be very tedious. He could always climb up the cliff, but that would still take time, and the creature might very well see him coming and try to flee.

Then, amazingly, the large being at the top of the gorge provided the solution. It raised its enormous arms and began to slash at the top of the cliff with what appeared to be fire of some kind.