The Hidden City (47 page)

‘The man-things talk much when they decide how they will hunt, U-lat,' Bhlokw complained.

‘It is the nature of the man-things to do this.'

‘It is because the hunts of the man-things are too much not-simple. It is my thought that their hunts are not-simple because they do not eat the ones they kill. They hunt and kill for reasons which I do not understand. It is my thought that this thing the man-things call “war” is a very great wickedness.'

‘It is not in our thought to cause anger to the priest of the Troll-Gods,' Patriarch Bergsten said in flawless Trollish. ‘The thing which the man-things call war is like
the thing which happens when two Troll-packs come to hunt on the same range.'

Bhlokw considered that. Then he grunted as comprehension came over his shaggy face. ‘Now it is clear to me,' he said. ‘This thing the man-things call “war” is like the hunting of thought. That is why it is not-simple. But you still talk much,' The Troll squinted at Emban. ‘That one is the worst,' he added. ‘His mind-belly is as big as his belly-belly.'

‘What did he say?' Emban asked curiously.

‘It wouldn't translate very well, your Grace,' Ulath replied blandly.

Patriarch Emban gave him a slightly suspicious look and then meticulously laid out their deployment once again, checking items off his list as he went. When he had finished, he looked around. ‘Can anybody think of anything else?'

‘Perhaps,' Sephrenia said, frowning slightly. ‘Our enemies know that Berit's not really Sparhawk, but they're going to think that Sparhawk won't have any choice but to follow along behind. It might help to confirm that belief. I think I know a way to duplicate the sound and sense of Bhelliom. If it works, our enemies will think that Sparhawk's somewhere in the column of knights Vanion's going to lead out into the desert. They'll concentrate on us rather than looking for him.'

‘You're putting yourself in danger, Sephrenia,' Aphrael objected.

‘There's nothing particularly new about that.' Sephrenia smiled. ‘And when you consider what we're trying to do, no place is really safe.'

‘Is that it, then?' Engessa asked, standing up.

‘Probably, friend Engessa,' Kring replied, ‘except for the hour or so we'll all spend telling each other to be careful.'

Engessa squared his shoulders, turned and faced his
Queen directly. ‘What are your orders, Betuana-Queen,' he asked her with military formality.

She drew herself up with a regal stiffness. ‘It is our instruction that you return with us to Sarna, Engessa-Atan. There you will resume command of our armies.'

‘It shall be as you say, Betuana-Queen.'

‘Directly upon our return, you will send runners to my husband, the king. Tell him that there is no longer a threat to Tosa. The Shining Ones will deal with Scarpa.'

He nodded stiffly.

‘Further, tell him that I have need of his forces in Sarna. That is where we will prepare for the main battle, and he should be there to take command.' She paused. ‘This is not because we are dissatisfied with
your
leadership, Engessa-Atan, but Androl
is
the king. You have served well. The royal house of Atan is grateful.'

‘It is my duty, Betuana-Queen,' he replied, clashing his fist against his breastplate in salute. ‘No gratitude is necessary.'

‘Oh, dear,' Aphrael murmured.

‘What's wrong?' Sephrenia asked her.

‘Nothing.'

‘It's definitely Chacole and Torellia, Sarabian,' Elysoun insisted several days later. ‘Chacole's more or less running things. She's older and shrewder. The strangers usually go directly to her. They talk privately for a while, and then she sends for Torellia. They weren't really all that fond of each other before, but now they've got their heads together all the time.'

‘They're probably getting orders from home,' Sarabian mused. ‘King Jaluah of Cynesga is Chacole's brother, and Torellia's the daughter of King Rakya of Arjuna. Can you get any sense at all of what they might be up to?'

She shook her head. ‘It's too early.'

‘Early?'

‘Women's politics again. We're more devious than men. Chacole will want everything in place before she starts to form other alliances. She's got Torellia under control, but she's not quite ready to start trying to expand yet.'

‘You're sure that Torellia's the subordinate one?'

She nodded. ‘Chacole's servants are lording it over hers. That's the first sign of dominance in the Women's Palace. Cieronna's servants are all insufferable because she's the first wife, and we're all subordinate to her – except for Liatris, of course.'

‘Of course,' Sarabian smiled. ‘No one in his right mind is impertinent to Liatris. Has she killed anybody lately?'

‘Not since she butchered Cieronna's footman last year.'

‘There's a thought. Should we bring Liatris into this?'

Elysoun shook her head. ‘Maybe later, but not at this stage. Atana Liatris is too direct. If I approached her with this, she'd simply kill Chacole and Torellia. Let's wait until Chacole approaches me before we involve Liatris.'

‘Are you sure Chacole
will
approach you?'

‘It's almost certain. My servants have greater freedom of movement than hers – because of my social activities.'

‘That's a delicate way to put it.'

‘You knew I was a Valesian when you married me, Sarabian, and you know about our customs. That's why my servants have the run of the compound. It's always been a tradition.'

He sighed. ‘How many are there currently, Elysoun?'

‘None, actually.' She smiled at him. ‘You don't really understand, do you, Sarabian? The biggest part of the fun of those little adventures has always been the intrigue, and I'm getting plenty of that playing politics.'

‘Aren't you feeling a little – deprived?'

‘I can endure it,' she shrugged, ‘and if I get desperate, I always have you to fall back on, don't I?' and she gave him an arch little smile.

‘Wal, sir, Master Valash,' Caalador drawled, leaning back in his chair in the cluttered loft, ‘ol' Vymer here, he done tole me that yer a' willin' t' pay good money fer infermation, an' he sorta figgered ez how y' might want t' hear ‘bout the stuff I seen in southwest Atan fer yer very ownself.'

‘You two have known each other for quite some time then?' Valash asked.

‘Oh, gorsh yes, Master Valash. Me'n Vymer goes way back. We wuz all t'gether durin' that fracas in Matherion – him an' me an' Fron an' Reldin – along with a couple others – when the fellers from Interior come a-bustin' in on us. They wuz hull
bunches
o' excitement that night,
let me tell yew. Anyway, after we shuck off the po-lice, we all split up an' scattered t' th' winds. Tain't a
real
good idee t' stay all bunched up whin yer a-runnin' from th' law.'

Stragen sat back from the table out of the circle of light from the single candle, carefully watching Valash's face. Caalador had just arrived to replace Sparhawk and Talen in the on-going deception of Valash, and Stragen was once again impressed by how smooth his friend really was. Valash seemed lulled by the easy, folksy charm of Caalador's dialect. Stragen despised the slovenly speech, but he was forced to admit its utility. It always seemed so genuine, so innocently artless.

‘Where
is
Fron, anyway?' Valash asked.

‘Him an' Reldin tuk off ‘bout a week ago,' Caalador shrugged. ‘I happened t' stop off in a tavern up in Delo whilst I wuz a-comin' on down yere, an' they wuz a feller what had “policeman” wrote all over him who wuz describin' ol' Fron an' the boy right down t' th' warts. Soon's I got yere, I tole ‘em ‘bout it, an' they figgered that it might just be time t' move on. Anyhow, Vymer here sez as how yer innerested in whut's a-goin' on here an' thar, an' I seen a few things after we all got run outta Matherion that he's a-thankin' might be worth somethin' to ya.'

‘I'll certainly listen, Ezek.' Valash raised his head sharply as the comatose Ogerajin began to mumble in his sleep.

‘Is he all right?' Stragen asked.

‘It's nothing,' Valash said shortly. ‘He does that all the time. Go ahead, Ezek.'

‘Wal, sir, she wuz a couple weeks ago, I guess, an' I wuz a-hot-footin' it across Atan, figgerin' t' make m' way on acrost Astel t' Darsos – on accounta the law bein' hot on m' heels an' all. I wuz a-comin' on down outten th' mountings when I pult up short, cuz I seen
more gol-dang Atans than I thought they wuz in the hull world – I mean, they wint on fer
miles!
They wuz
multitudes
o' them big rascals – all geared up fer war an a-lookin' real mean an' on-friendly-like.'

The entire Atan army?' Valash exclaimed.

‘It lookt t' me more like a gineral my-grashun of the hull dang race, Master Valash. Y' aint' niver
seen
s' miny of ‘em!'

‘Where exactly were they?' Valash asked excitedly.

‘Wal, sir, close ez I could make out, they wuz right close t' the Cynesgan border – up thar close by a little town calt Zhubay. Iff'n y' happen t' have a map handy, I could point out th' egg-zact spot fer ya.' Caalador squinted at the Dacite. ‘Whut would y' say this infer-maytion's worth, Master Valash?'

Valash didn't even hesitate when he reached for his purse.

‘It was very strange, Domi Tikume,' Kring told his friend as they rode at the head of their massed tribesmen out into the Cynesgan Desert the morning after the conference on Aphrael's island. ‘The Child Goddess said that we were all dreaming, but everything seemed so real. I could actually smell the flowers and the grass. I've never smelled anything in a dream before.'

Tikume looked dubious. ‘Are you
sure
it wasn't heresy to go there, Domi Kring?'

Kring laughed wryly. ‘Well, if it was, I was in good company. Patriarch Emban was there, and so was Patriarch Bergs ten. Anyway, you and I are supposed to continue making these raids into Cynesga. Then we're supposed to go ahead and ride on in toward those mountains out in the middle of the desert. We're hoping that Prince Sparhawk will have pinpointed the exact location of Cyrga by the time we get there.'

One of the scouts who had been ranging out into the
burnt brown desert ahead came galloping back. ‘Domi Tikume,' he said as he reined in. ‘We've found them.'

‘Where?' Tikume demanded.

‘There's a dry watercourse about two miles ahead, Domi. They're crouched down in there. I'd say they're planning to ambush us.'

‘What sort of soldiers are they?' Kring asked.

There was Cynesgan cavalry and more of those big ones with the steel masks that we've been running to death lately. There was some other infantry as well, but I didn't recognize them.'

‘Breastplates? Short kirtles? Helmets with high crests, and big round shields?'

Those are the ones, Domi Kring.'

Kring rubbed one hand across his shaved scalp. ‘How wide is the water-course?' he asked.

‘Fifty paces or so, Domi.'

‘Crooked? Fairly deep?'

The scout nodded.

‘It's an ambush, all right,' Kring said. ‘The cavalry probably intends to let us see them and then retreat into the gully. If we follow them, we'll run right into the infantry. We've been running Klæl's soldiers to death in open country, so they want to get us into tight quarters.'

‘What do we do?' Tikume asked.

‘We stay out of that stream-bed, friend Tikume. Send out flankers to cut off their cavalry after they ride out. We'll slaughter them, and that should bring Klæl's soldiers out into the open.'

‘What about the Cyrgai? Are they more of those ones out of the past that we keep coming across?'

‘I don't think so. This is inside the borders of Cynesga, so they're probably live ones from Cyrga itself.' Kring stopped suddenly, and a slow grin crossed his face. I just thought of something. Send out your flankers,
friend Tikume. Give me some time to think my way through this.'

‘That's a particularly nasty grin there, friend Kring,'

‘I'm a particularly nasty fellow sometimes, friend Tikume,' Kring replied, his grin growing even wider.

‘Slavers,' Mirtai said shortly after she had peered down the rocky hill at the column creeping slowly across the barren brown gravel toward the village clustered around the oasis. The almost instantaneous change from the humidity of the Arjuni jungle to the arid Cynesgan Desert had given Sparhawk a slight headache.

‘How can you tell at this distance?' Bevier asked her.

‘Those hooded black robes,' she replied peering again over the boulder which concealed them. ‘Slavers wear them when they come into Cynesga so that the local authorities won't interfere with them. Cynesga's about the only place left where slavery's openly legal. The other kingdoms frown on it.'

‘There's a thought, Sparhawk,' Bevier said. ‘If we could get our hands on some of those black robes, we'd be able to move around out in the desert without attracting attention.'

‘We don't look very much like Arjuni, Bevier,' Kalten objected.

‘We don't have to,' Talen told him. ‘From what I heard back in Beresa, there are bands of raiders out in the desert who ambush the caravans in order to steal the slaves, so the Arjuni slavers hire lots of fighting men of all races to help protect the merchandise.'

‘Oh,' Kalten said. ‘I wonder where we could lay our hands on black robes.'

‘I see a hundred or so of them right out there,' Bevier said, pointing at the caravan.

‘Elenes,' Xanetia sighed, rolling her eyes upward.