Ivory Lyre (22 page)

“You will see the queen,” she said, “lying
there waiting to be buried.”

“I have seen dead people before.” Still
there was no sense of the lyre, no sense of bright magic. He spun
Accacia around to face him. “Is it a trick? You will die first if
this is a trap.”

She looked at him steadily. “The lyre is
there, in her chamber, secured in a locked safe beneath her
bed.”

He forced her on, then saw the door was ajar
and drew back. Too late. Soldiers surrounded them.

Teb flung Accacia aside, parrying blows, but
there were too many, and the power of the un-men pressed at him,
weakening him, striking him with sudden confusion. Perhaps they had
confused him all along, led him here. It was a short battle and
one-sided, two dozen blades and the power of the dark sending him
sprawling, bleeding from a dozen wounds. Before him, beside the
queen’s bed, watching coldly, stood King Sardira, Captain Leskrank,
and General Vurbane. They stared with icy amusement as Teb was led
in to them defeated, his woman’s skirts flapping around his
ankles.

He looked back at them steadily, devoid of
power, wishing mightily for Seastrider—as bear, as wolf— and
realized how much he had grown to depend on her. Then, glancing at
the bed, he was riven with shock.

There lay the little, thin body of the
queen, brutally twisted across the satin as if the pain of her
death still gripped her, the jeweled knife still protruding from
her chest. The sight of her shocked Teb profoundly, that they had
not arranged her in peace with her hands crossed, or even removed
the knife or closed her eyes.

The soldiers bound him and Gram. They left
Accacia’s hands tied.

She fought in a rage, swearing at the king.
“You told me if I brought him here, you told me—”

King Sardira smiled coldly. “Never believe
the word of an angry king, my dear Accacia. You will find no
forgiveness for what you did.”

They were forced down passages and narrow
stairs, beyond the passage to the treasure room, then at last
through another door, into a long, rough fissure in the mountain
that contained a line of empty cells, the soldiers’ lamplight
catching at the heavy bars.

They were locked there, each to a cell, but
not adjoining ones. The lamps showed the king’s lined face sharply.
Teb stared at the uncertainty that showed for a moment in those
dark eyes; then the king’s look went shuttered and cold.

The line of soldiers was filing out to where
the un-men waited in the passage beyond. The king still paused,
staring at Teb.

“You will not leave me here, King Sardira,”
Teb said softly. “If our people win, and you have killed me, your
own life will be forfeit. They will know—the dragons will know. If
the dark should win, you will need me then. Only I can use the lyre
to drive the dark back and save you. Don’t ever imagine, King
Sardira, that the dark will leave you free. They know, now, what
that power was that kept them from conquering you. Roderica
confessed it all, in the stadium box.

“They will find the lyre now, King Sardira.
You will have no protection, unless I am here to help, to use its
power against them.”

The king stared at him openly for a moment,
his eyes questioning. Then he moved on through the heavy door
behind the last soldier. The door was pushed to so the light died
and was locked with a dull clang. The darkness was so complete Teb
could not see the bars to which he clung. He stood trying to
memorize the exact distance between himself and Gram, between him
and Accacia, between himself and the door. It was the kind of cell
where one did not expect to be freed except by death.

Smothered by the darkness, Teb tried to feel
some hint of the lyre from somewhere. He was blinded by blackness,
could not move beyond bars. Even Seastrider’s voice did not reach
him. His very sense of time seemed warped, so he didn’t know if it
was still night. The sun had been low when he had left Seastrider
on the mountain, the shadow of the mountain itself stretched long
across the city when he and Gram had made their way into the
palace. He reached out for the lyre’s power and could feel
nothing.

But it was there, somewhere in the labyrinth
of the dark palace caves. Somewhere giant lizards guarded the Ivory
Lyre of Bayzun, and he meant to know where.

Maybe Accacia knew, after all.

He began to question her, weaving his
questions slowly, taking his time. She remained silent. He could
not see or touch her to make the job easier.

At last she stirred in the darkness with a
little rustling sound, and laughed. “Do you really think I would
tell you anything, after you got me locked in this cell?”

“If you will tell me where the lyre of
Bayzun is hidden, maybe I can get us out of here.”

“What difference would it make to know where
it is? If you don’t have it, how could you use it? What could it do
anyway against iron bars?”

“Did you believe in dragons before you saw
them? Did you believe in the power of bards? The power of the
queen?”

She was silent.

“If the dark wins the last battle,
Accacia—if the dark were to rule Dacia—do you still think you would
become a part of their court? Did you see any special favors when
they took us captive in the queen’s chambers?”

“They will come to get me. Once Sardira’s
temper cools, he will. They will not let you out, Prince Tebmund.
Nor will they release my grandmother, not until they shovel out
your bones.”

Teb stared through the blackness. Her
grandmother?

But of course, he should have known that.
Hadn’t Accacia told him? She seemed to have told him all about her
life. He had not been paying attention. Their two mothers,
Accacia’s and Kiri’s—they had been sisters. But she was trying to
lead him away from talk of the lyre. Did she fear the lyre so
much?

“Are the lizards all dead, Accacia? Did they
all die in the stadium? Or do some still guard the lyre? Where,
Accacia? Where do the lizards now gather?” She sighed, and he heard
the faint rustle of her skirt again. “Where, Accacia? Where are the
lizards?”

“In the sea vault.”

“Where is the sea vault?”

“Beneath the mountain where it touches the
sea on the far side. Sardira hardly ever opens the passage to the
sunken cave. There is gold there, and he keeps lizards on the rocks
around the cave and in the passages leading to it.”

“How many passages? Where do they
begin?”

“One in the sea. One from near the treasure
chamber you forced open. That is the one Sardira uses.”

“How close are we to the sea vault?”

She sighed and was silent for a few minutes,
as if thinking over the lay of the passages. “Not far, I suppose. I
imagine this cave isn’t far from the southern sea cliffs.”

He let the power ease away. All three of
them were silent with their own thoughts. He lay down on the cool
stone floor of his cell, tired suddenly but his mind alive with new
hope. Beneath the mountain where it touched the sea, a passage to a
sunken cave . . . He stretched his body long across the
stone and felt his tension ease, then reached with his thoughts,
toward Seastrider.

*

Within the warring city, within the broken
tower, Kiri curled tighter against the stone parapet in fitful
sleep, waking each time there was a sound from the street, or when
Camery, standing guard, moved quickly to take aim. Kiri would jerk
awake, then drop into sleep again, exhausted. Twice when Camery
nudged her she was up at once, bow taut, her whole being keyed to
sudden action. Then when the danger passed she dropped down to
sleep hardly knowing she had stirred. Yet while her mind and body
were tuned so tight to war, something within her dreamed of peace.
She saw this war as a tiny, insane space in time. She saw all life
suddenly and stupidly seeking to destroy itself, and woke angry
that there was fighting at all.

But then she woke fully, her mind clearer.
It was not all life that was seeking destruction. It was the
un-life, the dark evil of the un-men, that sought to destroy the
precious gift of life that all human blood and that of the many
animals shared. The dark had made those dreams.

She thought of tired rebel soldiers sleeping
hidden all over the city, nervous and edgy, waiting for dawn to
begin again the terrible battle, and wondered if they had dreamed
the same, and shivered. The dark knew it was not easy to fight at
night, too easy to kill your own people. Night was a nervous truce
breached often enough so guards stood at every shelter. Now the
dark had breached that truce in a new and hideous way. She saw
Camery yawning and rose to take the bow from her hands.

*

There should have been no new boats docking
at the quays, for the three dragons had swamped and sunk every
boatload of dark soldiers that moved anywhere in the northerly
seas. But well to the south, unlighted boats clung to the black sea
close beneath the cliffs of Edosta. They put in silently to Dacia,
and the four heavy boats spewed forth horses and troops, the
soldiers pulling dark capes over their yellow tunics. The horses
had been silenced with wrapped bits and padded shoes. As dawn
touched the seam of sky and sea far in the east, these warriors
entered the city.

*

On the mountain, Seastrider woke. She lifted
her head. Her long muscles tightened and expanded with sudden
nerves. She stared up at the black sky, her unease making her
shudder all through her long, gleaming body. In her mind she saw
Tebriel, where he was held in a dark, close place. She twisted and
thrashed, trying to see where, exactly where. This was unclear, but
his message of a cave and passage touching the sea was vivid. She
slipped out from beneath the trees, her wound making her stiff and
slow, and pulled herself up toward the crest of the mountain.

Soon she lay along the crest staring over at
the pale wash of the distant sea and the black jumble of the
war-torn city unrelieved by any light. She gazed down at the
palace, dark and still. She rumbled once deep in her throat, then
turned back to examine the mountain again, for it was there, deep
within, that she felt the sense of Teb.

She laid her head down along the mountain,
crawling and scenting like a hunting snake, her tongue slipping in
and out, her head hugging stone and earth and twisting one way,
then the other, as she sought down along the mountain’s wild
reaches. Her newly forming scar tissue loosened, her hurt muscles
warmed and eased until she moved more freely. She scented the inner
shapes of the mountain, its caves and passages and the turnings of
its rocky coast.

*

Well past midnight, as a group of king’s
soldiers slept inside a tavern with the door barricaded and two of
their comrades standing guard, a shadow slipped silently across the
cobbles, its tail lashing. It killed the guards. Soon five great
cats climbed the stone building, from shed roof to window ledge,
then pushed through the shutters into the dark rooms.

All five returned the same way, jumping down
to the empty street, leaving dead soldiers behind. So the great
cats prowled the war-torn city, five here, three there, seven, a
great tom alone—all taking their toll, then vanishing. But suddenly
they heard two mounted battalions coming softly along the street on
padded hooves. As the battalions appeared, silhouetted against the
dawn, the great cats slipped into cottages and shops to warn
Garit’s troops. Men rose, armed, and slipped out into the dawn’s
shadows.

In the tower, Kiri woke Camery as a great
cat lingered on the stair. The two archers crouched ready. A thin
seam of dawn’s light shone at their backs. Soon came the soft
hush, hush
of rag-shod hooves along the cobbles. All over
the city, rebel soldiers moved closer to the approaching riders,
and in the tower Kiri and Camery held steady, their bows taut.

At the cry of “Redbull,” the rebels struck,
swordsmen and cats and spear throwers leaping out of cover to panic
the long line of horses; mounts reared and spun, swords rang
against swinging metal; the archers aimed high to pick off mounted
men above their own comrades. Great cats leaped and brought down
riders. As uniformed riders fell, rebels snatched up their weapons,
caught their horses, and tore the yellow and green tunics off them.
But too late they heard the racket of hooves, and four more
battalions pounded in to block the surrounding streets, green-clad
warriors fresh from sleep in the palace and mounted on fresh
horses. They pounded into the melee, cutting and slashing. Kiri
fired and fired again, she and Camery back to back. Then Kiri
glanced up at the mountain and froze.

The great ridge of the black mountain had
turned white. It was moving, gleaming in the rising dawn like
silver and pearl as coils of the dragon’s body caught and turned
the light. Kiri pulled her gaze away, taking aim, firing, but
longed to look again. The king’s soldiers charged the tower, and
she choked back a cry as they battered at the door with huge
timbers. Her eyes met Camery’s. They put aside their bows, drew
swords, and waited at the top of the stairs. The pounding shook the
tower so hard Kiri thought the stone would crumble. The door
crashed in, she heard Elmmira’s angry scream, then she was dodging
the sword of the first soldier; she struck deep beneath his ribs
and he went down. The next fell to Camery’s sword; the next up the
stairs lost his footing dodging Kiri’s sword and fell onto his
mates. Kiri and Camery finished them where they thrashed in a
bloody tangle.

At the bottom of the stairs they found
Elmmira with her teeth in a soldier’s throat. They ran directly out
into the battle, grabbed the first riderless horses they came to,
and piled aboard, Elmmira leaping beside them. Kiri’s frightened
mare reared, then ran, leaping bodies, dodging battling men,
pounding toward the mountain. There was power on the mountain, the
power of the dragon, a power that could save Dacia. Where was
Tebriel? Were he and the white dragon so badly hurt that they could
not attack? Where were the other dragons?