Angus Wells - The God Wars 03 (40 page)

           
"We shall be invisible/
⁷
said the wazir. "All of us, save Cennaire."

           
He paused again, smiling mischievous
glee.

           
"And he
⁷
ll not know
it?" Calandryll asked cautiously. "Not sense our presence?"

           
"No." Ochen shook his
head, his smile still wide, as if he delighted in the notion of tricking
another wizard. "The mirror is a device of communications only. It shows
what any window would show, and no more. He shall see nothing save Cennaire and
the room she uses."

           
Calandryll nodded, accepting. Bracht
offered no comment, save the thinning of his lips, the dismissive flash of his
eyes. Again diplomatic, Katya said, "This seems a sound enough plan."

           
Beside her, the Kern voiced an
inarticulate sound, shrugging, and settled to the honing of his sword,
deliberately distancing himself from further discussion.

           
^“
We are agreed,
then," said Ochen. "In Ahgra-te, Cennaire shall become
our
spy."

           
"When shall that be?" she
asked.

           
^“
Another day should see
us there," Ochen told her cheerfully. "So, by dusk on the morrow.
^”

           
She nodded, saying nothing more, for
all she felt horribly afraid. That Ochen might work a gramarye of unseeing, she
had no doubt, nor that it should delude Anomius. But she? Should she be able to
conceal that knowledge from the warlock? And did he sense betrayal, surely he
would destroy her. She looked then to Calandryll and knew she had no wish to
die, for different reasons now, and simultaneously that she was resolved to
give whatever aid was in her power. She would, she recognized, follow Ochen's
instructions, even at cost of her existence: it was a strange realization,
unfamiliar for its altruism.

           
She felt a hand touch hers then, and
turned to find Calandryll smiling grave encouragement, knowing from his
expression that her emotions had shown upon her face.
Burash!
she thought wonderingly,
do I change so much! Did Horul change me, or does love!
She met his
smile as he squeezed her hand, albeit briefly, and murmured, "No harm
shall come to you.”

           
She nodded, aware of Bracht's
disapproving glance across the fire, and replied,
^“
I trust not.
^”

           
"Trust Ochen,
^”
he
encouraged, "and the Younger Gods."

           
She answered him, "Aye,
^”
but even as she said it she thought on Horul's words—that the Younger Gods were
limited by strictures beyond man's comprehension, and that Tharn waxed
stronger, and her trepidation grew. Doubt tumbled over doubt then, for did
Anomius, in his own malign way, not serve Tharn? And was she become a true
member of this quest, should her demise not serve the Mad God's purpose?
Therefore might Tharn not in some fashion alert Anomius to her shifted
allegiance, and her maker know her for turncoat?

           
She felt Calandryll's hand withdraw,
wishing that he would hold her, comfort her. She yearned then for such
reassurance, and had Bracht not squatted disapproving across the fire, Katya
enigmatic at his side, she would have turned to Calandryll and put her own arms
about him, to feel him close.
And what
then!
she wondered.
Would he hold me,
or would he turn away!
She stifled the sigh that threatened to escape her
lips, fixing her eyes on the flames as she endeavored to quell her fears, and
the disappointment that rose as Calandryll busied himself with the small
repairs of tack and harness necessitated by their journeying.

           
Overhead the sky stood dark, cloud
blown up on a freshening wind to obscure the stars, the moon flirting among the
rack. The omnipresent sensation of dread hung like an aftertaste in the night,
held off by the cantrips taught him, but growing stronger with each passing
day, with every league that brought them closer to the battle waiting ahead.
Beside that confrontation his tumbled feelings seemed small, but still he
wished they might be resolved. And knew that likely such resolution should be
denied, save that, somehow, in some manner he could not imagine, Cennaire
regain her heart and become once more a natural woman. Could that be
accomplished, he thought, then all should be well.

           
He tied a final stitch and set his
work aside, yawning. The camp was silent, save for the night sounds of the
animals and the crackling of the fire. Bracht and Katya were already wrapped in
their blankets, and those of the kotu-zen not warding the perimeter were dark
and silent shapes, slumbering. Ochen lay a little distance off, his feet toward
the flames. Cennaire lay still but not, he thought, sleeping. He looked toward
her and smiled wanly. If she saw, she gave no sign, and he stretched out
himself, unpleasantly aware of the distances between them all.

           
AHGRA-TE lay on the northernmost
limit of the forested country, a boundary marker between woodland and plain.
The road rose up for half a day, climbing to a final wide terrace that ran
timbered to a line of solid darkness stretching as far as the eye could see to
east and west. That, the questers were advised, was the edge of the true
Jesseryn Plain, the Ahgra Danji, which in the Jesseryte tongue meant
"Great Wall." It loomed above the town, towering vast over the wooded
country, as if storm clouds solidified and lay upon the land. It was visible
even as they traversed the final stretch of roadway, daunting as the trees gave
up their hold to fields and farmland, a barrier near as impressive as the Kess
Imbrun itself, lit by the rays of the descending sun.

           
The town was built at the foot,
where falls cascaded down the rockface, mill wheels turning furiously in the
torrent, the river that subsequently gouged a path across the flat terrain
diverted by dams and barrages to form a semicircular moat that warded Ahgra-te
to the west, south, and east. To the north, the Ahgra Danji was an ample
buttress, and from its foot, within the confines of the moat, the town was
further defended by high walls of wood set at intervals with watchtowers. It
was a place, Calandryll thought, that should be mightily difficult to take, did
the war raging on the Plain spread to the south of the Jesseryte lands.

           
As they drew closer he realized the
place was more akin to the city-states of Lysse than those few other centers of
habitation he had seen in this mysterious land, for proximity impressed its
sheer magnitude on the approaching riders. The wall that faced them spread for
close on half a league, and he calculated the eastern and western walls no
less, turning in his saddle to see his comrades staring awed at the ramparts,
albeit they were dwarfed by the rockface behind.

           
Two bowshots from the walls, Chazali
barked a command that sent two men at a gallop toward the guardpost set on the
southern edge of the moat. They paused a moment there, then thundered across a
drawbridge to disappear behind the walls. The kiriwashen reined his mount to a
slower pace, his men forming into a column behind. Ochen brought his animal
alongside Chazali's, and the questers fell’ naturally into pairs. Calandryll
flanked Cennaire, glancing down from his taller horse to see the Kand woman
studying the place with wondering eyes.

           
"If they name this a
town," he called, "what must their great holds be like?"

           
"Vast, like Nhur-jabal,"
she answered, with a smile he thought was nervous, assuming she anticipated her
contact with Anomius.

           
"You've naught to fear,"
he said by way of reassurance. "Only do as Ochen advises, and Anomius
shall be none the wiser."

           
She nodded, unspeaking, and he fell
silent, staring at Ahgra-te as the walls began to fill with folk, like an audience
lining the upper levels of an amphitheater, and Chazali's two forerunners came
thundering back. Faces peered from the ramparts, and from the gates came a
double column of halfarmored pikemen who formed an avenue between guardhouse
and gate.

           
"I thought all kotu gone to the
war," he called ahead.

           
Ochen turned briefly, swaying
awkwardly in his saddle, and answered, "Kotu-anj are left here as
rearguard."

           
It was all the explanation the wazir
had time to give, else he should have lost his precarious seat as they crossed
the bridge and the drumming of hooves on wood gave way to the clatter of shoes
on stone. There was a moment of darkness as they entered the gates, and then
light and confusion as they emerged into a shadowed square filled all around
with the figures of kembi and other dignitaries. Chazali and Ochen reined in,
though neither made any move to dismount as a deputation—of notables,
Calandryll assumed from the magnificence of their robes—stepped forward, bowed
low, and offered profuse welcome to the honorable kiriwashen of Pamur-teng, the
revered wazir, and their most honored guests.

           
Calandryll guessed that Chazali's
forerunners had warned the leaders of Ahgra-te that outlanders rode with the
column, but even so he was aware of sidelong stares, filled with curiosity, as
the kiriwashen gave formal answer and the notables shouted for the crowd to
part, the pikemen trotting ahead, leading the way into the town.

           
It was, to eyes better accustomed to
the avenues of Lyssian cities or the open spaces of the world, a claustrophobic
place. The streets were barely wide enough a cart might pass between the
buildings that stood to either side, four stories high, so that they reached
almost to the inner walkways of the walls against which they were built, as if
the entire town were a single huge fortress cut through with narrow
passageways. Dusk was falling now, and though lanterns were lit and windows
bled light, still the path was gloomy, oppressive despite the welcome of the
inhabitants. The air, after the clean scent of the woodlands, was heavy with
the myriad, near-forgotten odors of any city, but here the stranger for the
mingling of unknown spices, the scented sticks that burned in doorways, the
smell of exotic food. Faces peered from every opening, and now that he was more
familiar with the Jesseryte physiognomy Calandryll could see the curiosity writ
there, the wonder that kiriwashen and wazir should ride in company with
foreigners.

           
It was a relief to emerge into an
open square for all the bulk of the Ahgra Danji loomed overhead: at least the
sky was visible here, dark blue and already sprinkled with stars, the risen
moon a promise to the east.

           
Like Ghan-te before it, this square
was faced with a temple, stables, and inns. The kotu-anj disappeared into the
most splendid of the latter, while the kembi and their fellow notables offered
their backs for footstools, precipitating the same confusion as had arisen in
Ghan-te. When Calandryll finally succeeded in dismounting unaided, he saw the
kotu-anj herding folk from the inn, guessing the hostelry was cleared for
occupation by the visitors.

           
He stared about, intrigued by this
odd city— "town," Chazali and Ochen had named it, but it seemed too
large for such diminutive appelation, prompting him to wonder again about the
size of the northern tengs—and through the milling crowd saw a priest emerge
from the entrance of the temple. This was a vast structure, occupying most of
the square's north flank, the horsehead symbol of Horul magnificent with gold
leaf and jet above the wide doors. The priest was equally splendid, his robe
iridescent silver, sparkling in the lanterns' light, but, Calandryll saw, much
younger than Ochen. He was attended by six acolytes in robes of green and gold,
each bearing a thurible, all swinging in perfect unison, trailing faint
streamers of perfumed smoke. He halted a few steps from the doors, the acolytes
moving into precise line at his back, and raised his hands, chanting a prayer
that was also a greeting.

           
Formality reined now, Ochen explaining
that he and the kotu-zen must pay due respect to their god.

           
Calandryll answered with a bow.
"We'll see our animals stabled and await you in the tavern."

           
Ochen murmured his thanks and walked
toward the waiting priest. Chazali followed, his men coming after, leaving
their horses in care of the kotu- anj. None seemed overly eager to take charge
of the larger horses, and the outlanders led their mounts toward the stable,
finding stalls readied. They unsaddled and set to currying the animals, seeing them
comfortable before making their way to the inn.

           
The place was empty, save for the
owner and his serving people, a large, low-ceilinged room set round with long
tables and the faldstools that were the usual seating of the Jesserytes. What
windows existed were cut into the frontage of the building, small and square
and already shuttered. Lanterns were lit at intervals along the walls, but they
afforded no more light than those of the keep, so that the chamber was dim,
shadow pooling beyond the scant radiance. Instinct sent Calandryll's eyes
roving the shadows, aware that Bracht and Katya followed suit. He smiled and
called a greeting. And saw the Jesserytes flinch, gasping, stark surprise
showing on their faces as they heard their own language issue from the mouth of
an outlander.