Kirith Kirin (The City Behind the Stars) (63 page)

When I descended I smelled of lightning and my hair nearly stood on end. I greeted her with appropriate courtesy and we stepped aside from her retinue. “I bring Kirith Kirin’s blessings,” she said. Idhril was tall, with hair the color of fire, and her arms were thick with muscle; she had the broad, pallid face of uplands people, the Svyssn, not of the finer boned, darker Jisraegen. “He sent me messengers from Lake Dyvys.” She offered me folded parchment, sealed with the Prince’s ring. Addressed in his own hand, not written by one of the clerks. I slid the letter into my Cloak.

Indicating the High Place, she said, “We’ve been watching the show all the way from Arthen. The southern light, is that Cunevadrim?”

“Yes, ma’am. I expect it will go on for a while. I can’t do much more than I’ve done to protect the city from weather, any more than I could protect you, so you might warn folks about that.”

“I’ve opened Telkyii Tars. I have a room ready for you, whenever you can sleep.”

I took the moment to nibble cake and drink cumbre. We talked a while. I asked about the march, especially leaving Arthen. She had not walked out of tree-shadow in a long time, she said. She asked about the early battle for Laeredon and I told her some of the details, and then the aftermath, the work I had done to restore order in Genfynnel. She asked me a few questions about that — Kirith Kirin briefed her in letters so there was not much she didn’t know. I asked about the Verm. They were still in the city.

When in my body and away from the High Place, I lost track of the Wizard. I could hear his voice and it seemed to me he still stood where I had left him. But when I returned to the summit again, I knew he had gone.

He had taken his opportunity to ride away; I was sure of it. I searched for him in various ways. I failed to detect any change beneath his Veil that would indicate his whereabouts, except that the Verm under his eye were marching as well, west beyond the Narvos Ridge.

Soon, however, when Drudaen sang ithikan to increase his speed, I knew he was on horseback.

He rode in a fury. He had much strength left to him, as far as I could gauge. I called up what I had to spare to force him back, but his own Tower, answering to his Words, rendered me ineffective. He had chosen his moment carefully. I slowed his riding some but could not stop it.

At the same time, in the north, Kirith Kirin dropped a gem into fire that gave me the signal I awaited. So I turned my attention there.

My enemy rode south, as had been his wish. I lost sight of him in the Hills of Slaughter.

5

The Drii force reached southern Cundruen near Montajhena as Kirith Kirin marched north from Lake Dyvys, moving quickly up the Pajmar into Vyddn. When all was in place, on signal, I focused Laeredon Tower on breaking shadow as far south of Vyddn as my hand could reach. In place of shadow I left storm cloud of my own, the type armies hate, with torrents of rain and teeth of lightning or cyclone. This cut off any real hope of retreat.

I maintained this tense posture through the long wait that followed. Stretched, with Drudaen’s Tower still singing at my back, I brought my will to bear from Vyddn through Trenelarth and Rars, even reaching into north Onge. This wait encompassed two days or more. The Prince meant to let the Queen’s soldiers get a good look at his forces before he sent his terms to them. These hours of readiness would save lives, he thought.

At last he signaled me a battle would begin, and a small battle was indeed fought. Some Verm put up good resistance but the Queen’s soldiers quickly sued for terms. The Verm retreated toward Cundruen, preferring that to my storm, and the Venladrii caught them there. They fought again, and the Verm died or were captured; none surrendered. The Queen’s soldiers laid down their arms with few casualties. Kirith Kirin spent a day processing the prisoners, getting wagons for their abandoned arms, ordering the march back to Genfynnel and greeting King Evynar, who had led the Venladrii through Cundruen. They were aware of the need for speed, though they did not know Drudaen had gone south already. Within a day, the armies marched for Genfynnel with their prisoners, five thousand of the Queen’s soldiers. I hear they were a jolly lot, congratulating themselves on being marched to a comfortable confinement in Genfynnel. Before they surrendered, Kirith Kirin had let them know shadow was broken there.

6

I had stood on the High Place nearly fifteen days. On the last, I watched Kirith Kirin’s southward march, aching in every bone. Scanning the clouds a final time, hearing voices on the planes, nothing new. Drudaen moved beneath a veil and avoided the High Places. I could not find him.

The return to my body was hard; I found my flesh in fever from having endured fourth-level trance so long. I drank clear water from the cistern in one of the chambers and sipped cumbre to prepare my stomach for solid food again. Strange to see through the eyes again, to feel air on the skin, to gather sensation through the nose and fingertips. To hear so little, and such small sounds. I felt the heat of the fever and prepared unufru tea, finding the root stored in the Work Room. I drank the tea and descended.

Nixva had been moved to stable with the other horses, now that there were soldiers to guard him. I found the Base Vault empty, full of singing. Briefly listening to the changes of voice within the kirilidur, I touched the silver runes in the rock, the signature of Edenna Morthul.

I would not have wanted Kirith Kirin to see me that day, so removed from the world to which I was returning. I stepped across the causeway under clearing skies, clouds scattering north. This was late in the month of Ymut, near winter. Even in Genfynnel one began to feel the chill. The cloak swirled around me, casting off light. I tamed it some on the way to Telkyii Tars.

Knowing nothing about the place, I wandered. Idhril had left a servant to watch for me, a shy man who begged my pardon and led me to an apartment, Kirith Kirin’s own rooms, in fact. I thanked my guide and sent him to Idhril with a note telling her Kirith Kirin was marching to the city and describing some of the battle.

Then I read his letter to me.

“I am taking this chance to send my love by letter, since Idhril will see you long before I do. We’ve watched the fireworks with concern. The troops think it’s a fine show but I’ve seen these fights before. Troublesome that it’s continued so many days. You’ll come down from the High Place looking nearly transparent and you won’t know where you are. Well, if I were there I would find a way to remind you. Greetings from your friends. I’ve told Idhril to take care of you and put you in my rooms. Be safe and wait for me.”

The letter made him real. I felt better. Nearly transparent became flushed with color. The world enfolded me.

I slept in a high-ceilinged, stuccoed chamber flooded with light. I slept two whole days, woke, ate real food, and slept again. Idhril kept me company for a while that day, and later sent a doctor. I drank unufru again. The tea broke the worst of the sickness and I mended with rest and food. My arm had long since healed of its bone break and I had removed the splint during the time I spent on Laeredon. With sleep I began to feel more myself.

7

Even during sleep, part of me kept watch on the Tower. I dreamed of walking on the High Place, lightning flashing from my fingertips, as I rode across the world on a carpet of storm. I dreamed of Drudaen beneath shadow. I dreamed of Kirith Kirin.

Meanwhile, Idhril sent Kirith Kirin dispatches by post-riders and I included my own news in those. I wrote a letter to him when I finally got out of bed, and she sent that along.

The armies moved faster than I would have imagined, forced-marching down the Pajmar, taking the river road. We had news every day. Within five days after I descended from Laeredon, his outriders reached us with a packet of letters and news that he would cross the Isar bridges next day.

The letters contained orders for preparations for our southern march, which would take place within a few days of the consolidation of the armies in Genfynnel. Idhril set to work and people were coming and going from Telkyii Tars all day. A householder brought a note for me like the one before, but short. “We did good work in Vyddn. I will see you in a day. Yours.”

For his march into the city I withdrew to the Tower. The Nivri and Finru houses claimed the best seats for his arrival, atop the northeast walls where the flatland stretched out for miles. One could see a broad vista of the country through which Isar flows. The view from the Tower was better, of course. I made no trance that day, wishing to see only with the eyes of my body. I sat near the Tower Horns and saw his shadow on the horizon, the host of soldiers spread out across the plain.

Trumpets sounded when the sentries saw him, and from across the fields his trumpeters answered, deep, booming sounds like the crying of giants. Thirteen thousand soldiers marched across the plain, five thousand as prisoners and the rest as friends. I had never seen so many people moving as one body before, though I am told by the knowledgeable that our armies are actually quite small. Crimson banners waved and bodies of cavalry flashed in advance of the foot soldiers. The trumpets blared again and again, outriders crossed the bridges and the host of Kirith Kirin crossed Isar, the Prince riding at the head of the column.

The whole army would not fit inside Genfynnel so he made his main encampment on the ground between the city and the river, leaving sentries on the bridges. Some of the host rode inside the walls, and the City Lord and Lady Idhril walked their horses forward to meet them. All the folk left in Genfynnel filled the streets between the East Gate and Telkyii Tars. There were more of them than I expected and they made a big noise to welcome him. Autumn flowers were strewn in his path and parents lifted babies for him to kiss. Everyone who could reach him touched his cloak or brushed the Keikin’s mane. The royal pair, master and horse, pranced toward his palace, unoccupied these long years (Queen Athryn lately had not liked to ride so far north). The city, full of his legend for weeks, faced the fact of him.

Kirith Kirin made magic of his own, in his own way. He rode straight-backed and strong, without hurry, patiently letting everyone see him and seeming, himself, to see everyone. Today one hears stories of sick children he healed with a touch, blind men and women struck by his light and able to see again, the sorts of things invented by cheap romancers in the wake of history. But I was there, I saw the ride, even if I declined to share it directly. He rode with royal grace through the crowd and led his soldiers into Telkyii Tars.

Changes in the Tower light let him know he was welcomed from that place as well. He already knew as much. He dismounted in front of the cracked facade of the house, now repaired. Lords joined him and he entered the place. The troops, under the watchful gaze of Gaelex, took their positions on the walls and in the barracks of the citadel.

This was as much as I watched. He would send for me when he was ready for me to descend. Better, for the moment, I should sit where I was, under the open sky, with the knowledge that Kirith Kirin had come to Genfynnel safe and sound. The first leg of our journey was over.

1

In the peaceful night, under a clear, cold sky, in a city restive with its occupying army, I sat on the summit of Laeredon holding the heavy locket in my hand, warming the gem, listening. From the streets below rose the light of bonfires, the sound of laughter, a night of good weather, soldiers bringing gold into the city, along with it a reason to drink, to forget. Fires burned in the countryside on both sides of the river as far as I could see, and I could imagine, watching them flicker under the stars, that the stars themselves were distant fires. I savored the thought because in the presence of such huge distances I felt small, like the locket in my palm, the dark gem catching starlight as I turned it over and over. Comforting and compact, this weight, the rasp of raised letters along my fingertips. The idea of vastness lent the feeling that I remained a finite object, after hours when I had spread my spirit over wind and cloud.

Kirith Kirin came for me late in the night when his business was finally done, and when I knew him to be waiting I descended. He stood where the gate had fallen, some of the broken stones as tall as he. Hood drawn over his head, a drab cloak, his bodyguard waiting at a distance. He had come alone, without our friends, I was glad of that. He stepped toward me and drew down the hood, his eyes glittering; we stood there watching each other. “I thought it was time you came down.”

“Hello. I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

He smiled. Exhaustion had drained the color from his face. He signaled the guard and I fell in step beside him. We entered Telkyii Tars by a side gate, through a series of walled gardens. Guards were posted along the paths and inside the apartment. Gaelex waited inside and bowed her head to Kirith Kirin. “The sentries are in place on the inner and outer walls, Kirith Kirin, and the house is secure. I’ve taken charge of the keys from Lady Idhril’s steward.”