Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno (16 page)

“That makes sense,” Gundaron said. “After all, it must have been given its name for some reason. What better time to start the Path of the Sun than at dawn?”

“Gun says the Path itself must be a Caid artifact,” Dhulyn said as they prepared for bed in the rooms they’d been given in the palace. Falcos Tarkin had wanted to give them every comfort, and Alaria in particular had wanted them close. “He’s seen drawings of mazes in the documents left from their days. From what he says, they were used for gardens, not as defensive works. Can you imagine?” She looked at him over her shoulder. “It would be like building a wall so that vines could climb up it.”

“An artifact of the Caids,” Parno said under his breath. “How lovely. I wonder what
this
one is supposed to do?”

Dhulyn smiled her wolf ’s smile. “You never know, my soul. The odds say
one
of their artifacts must prove to be of beneficial use some day....”

“Well, you’re the gambler, but somehow I don’t think this is the day.” Parno grunted as he shifted to give her more room.

Dhulyn paused just as she was lifting her legs onto the mattress. “What? Is the bed too soft?”

“My back hurts,” he said.

“ ‘Don’t buy that red saddle,’ I said.” Dhulyn rolled over until she could press her back up against him. “ ‘But it’ll look so pretty on my horse,’ he said. ‘Don’t do it,’ I said, ‘It’ll hurt your back,’ I said. ‘How could it hurt my back, he said . . .’ ”

Parno put his hand over Dhulyn’s mouth.

GUNDARON OFVALDOMAR IS ON HIS HANDS AND KNEES, RETCHING. MAR IS ON HIS FAR SIDE, WHITE-FACED, AND HER DARK BLUE EYES ARE ROUNDER THAN DHULYN HAS EVER SEEN THEM. GUN SITS BACK ON HIS HEELS, WIPING AT HIS MOUTH WITH HIS SLEEVE. THEY ARE IN THEIR SCHOLARS’ DRESS, BROWN LEGGINGS, BLUE TUNICS, SO DHULYN JUDGES THIS SCENE IS LIKELY TO BE IN THE FUTURE. SHE LOOKS AROUND, BUT ALL SHE CAN SEE IS A SEA OF WILD GRASS , HEAVY WITH SEED....

IT IS A GRANITE WALL, WEATHERED AND IN PLACES CRACKED BY THE PASSAGE OF TIME. BUT IT IS WORKED, HUMAN-MADE, AND OBVIOUSLY CREATED BY THE HAND OF SOME MASTER STONE MASON AMONG THE CAIDS. THE SHADOWS ARE SUCH THAT IT TAKES A MOMENT FOR DHULYN TO SEE THE ROCK HAS BEEN CARVED. A FACE STARES BACK AT HER FROM THE WALL, WIDE-BROWED, POINTED OF CHIN, THE NOSE VERY LONG AND STRAIGHT, THE LIPS FULL CURVES. THE EYES ARE EMPTY....

A SMALL BOY IS SQUATTING ON HIS HEELS IN THE GRASS, DANGLING A PIECE OF WILLOW OSIER FOR AN ORANGE KITTEN. AS THE KITTEN LEAPS AND JUMPS, THE BOY TOUCHES IT, AND THE KITTEN FALLS, PANTING, ITS EYES GROWING MILKY AND DARK. HE TOUCHES IT AGAIN, AND IT LEAPS UP, BLINKING, AND THRASHING ITS LONG TAIL. THE BOY DANGLES THE OSIER AGAIN, AND ONCE MORE THE KITTEN POUNCES, AND ONCE MORE, SMILING, THE BOY REACHES OUT TO TOUCH IT....

THE TALL THIN MAN STANDS BEFORE HIS MIRROR THAT IS NOT A MIRROR. THIS TIME IT SHOWS HIS REFLECTION. HIS WHEAT-COLORED HAIR IS LONG AND UNKEMPT. IT APPEARS HE HAS NOT SHAVED IN MANY DAYS, NOR EATEN. HIS EYES ARE NO LONGER THE COLOR OF OLD ICE BUT THE COOL GREEN OF JADESTONE. HE HAS THE SAME LONG SWORD IN HIS HANDS, AND HE CUTS DOWNWARD, SLASHING AT HIS IMAGE IN THE MIRROR FRAME. IT IS AS IF HE LOOKS AT HIS REFLECTION IN A POOL OF WATER. THE SWORD PASSES THROUGH IT AND LEAVES IT RIPPLING AND DANCING UNTIL IT SETTLES AGAIN. DHULYN WONDERS AGAIN WHY THIS OLD VISION SHOULD BE COMING TO TROUBLE HER NOW. A MESSAGE, BUT WHAT? AND FOR WHOM?...

A CIRCLE OF WOMEN, EACH WITH HAIR THE COLOR OF OLD BLOOD, DANCE FIRST ONE WAY, THEN THE OTHER. THEIR MOUTHS MOVE IN THE CHANT, BUTDHULYN CANNOT HEAR THEIR VOICES. DHULYN HAS SEEN THISVISION MANY TIMES; THESE ARE THE WOMEN OF HERTRIBE, BEFORE THE BREAKING. BUT WHERE IS HERMOTHER? . . .

GUNDARON FALLS TO HIS KNEES IN THE LONG GRASS AND VOMITS. . .

THE STONE FACE SMILES AT HER, ITS PUPILS INLAID IN GREEN STONE. . .

PEOPLE WORK IN A FIELD OF HAY. RAGGED PEOPLE, FACES DRAWN WITH EXHAUSTION. MOUNTED GUARDS PATROL THE PERIMETER OF THE FIELD, THEIR FACES MARKED WITH THE SAME FATIGUE. ONLY THE FACT THAT THEY ARE FACING OUTWARD TELLSDHULYN THAT THEY ARE GUARDING THE REAPERS FROM EXTERNAL DANGER, NOT FROM ESCAPE. IN THE DISTANCE THERE IS A SMALL FORTRESS, WITH A WALL MUCH TOO LARGE FOR IT . . .

A THIN MAN WEARING A GOLD RING IN EACH EAR IS BENT OVER A CIRCLE OF STONES, USING A SPARKER TO SET DRIED GRASS AND TWIGS ALIGHT. A PILE OF BROKEN BRANCHES SITS TO ONE SIDE READY TO BE PLACED IN THE FIRE. HIS LARGE HANDS HAVE PRONOUNCED KNUCKLES, LONG FLAT FINGERS. HIS STRAW-COLORED HAIR IS COARSE AND THICK, CROPPED SHORT. DHULYN’S SHADOW FALLS ACROSS HIM, AND HE LOOKS UP. “HERE,” HE SAYS, STRAIGHTENING TO HIS FEET AND REACHING TOWARD HER. “LET ME HELP YOU WITH THAT.” . . .

AN OLD MAN, HIS HAIR STILL SHOWING STREAKS OF RED THE COLOR OF OLD BLOOD, PEERS AT HER. SHE CAN SEE THE LINES FANNING OUT FROM BESIDE HIS EYES, AND THERE IS WHITE IN HIS EYELASHES. FROWNING, HE RAISES A HAND WHOSE FINGERS ARE TWISTED, JOINTS SWOLLEN, AND TRACES A SYMBOL ON HER FOREHEAD.

“What did you See?”

Obviously she hadn’t been quiet enough. Or, perhaps Parno’s Pod sense had made him more sensitive to her Visions.

Dhulyn described the stone face again. “I think it must be a piece of the Path of the Sun. We will have to watch out for it.”

“And an old bit of carving made you jump in your sleep?”

She made a face, knowing that he couldn’t see her in the dark. “I saw a most unpleasant child, some people harvesting in time of war. The Green Shadow again, and you know that repetition is significant.” She paused, breathing deeply. “I Saw a Red Horseman.”

“Avylos?”

Dhulyn shook her head. “And not my father either. At least, I don’t think so.” She settled herself against him more snugly. “Oh, and I should warn Gun to be careful of what he eats.”

The sky to the west was a dull pewter, barely lighter than the vault above them, where no stars showed through the thick cloud cover. The moon had set hours before, but Dhulyn and Parno had not had any difficulty finding their way to the entrance of the Path of the Sun. Parno had dismounted to retie a thong that had come loose on his saddlebag and now swung himself once again into his saddle. He’d gone back to the old one, Dhulyn noticed with a smile.

From on the ground in front of it, the entrance to the Path of the Sun looked like no more than a pair of wide boulders surrounded by thick hedges, taller than a person on horseback and far enough apart to allow two such persons to pass between them. But a closer look showed Dhulyn that the “boulders” were far too even and regular to have occurred naturally, and that there was even the suggestion of a long-ago fallen arch in the way the top of the left one seemed to reach out toward the one on the right. Caids’ work, for certain.

“We might have lost the trail anyway,” Parno said, looking up. “From the look of those clouds, there’ll be rain before long.”

“Not before the sun rises,” Dhulyn said. She turned to look behind them. The others were waiting where the trail divided, one fork leading to where they stood, the other fading away into the Caid ruins. Overcast or not, the slowly growing light of dawn showed her Falcos Tarkin and the Princess Alaria, booted and cloaked against the morning’s chill, and between them Epion Akarion on a tall black gelding.

Dhulyn touched the spot on her quilted vest where she had sewn the pearls Alaria had given her. The jewels, effectively priceless to those from a landlocked country, were Alaria’s personal property, and their use as payment made it clear who had hired the Mercenaries. Falcos Tarkin may have put all his resources at their disposal, but it would be to Alaria that they would report when they returned.

Behind the nobles, and off to one side where their view could not be obscured, Gundaron and Mar-eMar stood with their ponies. Or rather, Gun stood. Dhulyn grinned. No wonder his riding didn’t improve—the boy took every chance he could to get down off his mount. She hadn’t teased him about it this morning, however. He’d had no luck Finding a key to the Path, not even using Mar’s scrying bowl, and he was feeling incompetent enough.

“Well?” Parno said.

Dhulyn looked over at him and smiled. “Well enough.” She turned back to those waiting and touched her forehead with her fingertips. Mar and Gun returned the salute, and the others nodded in acknowledgment. Dhulyn turned Bloodbone’s nose toward the entrance, waited until Parno drew up beside her.

“Half a length behind me,” she reminded him.

“Teach your grandmother,” he said, and followed her in. “In Battle,” he said as she passed through the stones.

“And in Death,” she answered.

It was unreasonable, Mar-eMar knew, this feeling that they should wait exactly where they were until Dhulyn Wolfshead and Parno Lionsmane reappeared—that somehow, if she and Gun waited here, it would help the Mercenaries in some unknown way. But Wolfshead and Lionsmane would not return before sunset—and probably not today’s sunset at that. It could be days before they came out again. Or weeks.

“They
will
come back,” she said.

“What was that?” Gun still had to use all his concentration to get up into the saddle, otherwise the hill ponies they’d bought for their expedition to the Caid ruins were likely to play some trick on him. Mar repeated herself.