The Seedbearing Prince: Part I (44 page)

The voidwalker’s severed hand twitched, and
Lurec dropped it with a yelp. Shir-Hun gasped as the exposed
slivers began to hum, emitting black ripples in the air. A hole
into nothingness opened in the palm, gradually expanding to swallow
the fingers.

“Stand back!” Nassir yanked Dayn roughly
behind him. The hand winked out of existence with an electric
sensation that Dayn sensed more than saw, a feeling that made his
bones itch.

“Tu’um’s shadow, I wish I knew how that
happened,” Lurec muttered. He looked apologetically at Nassir, but
a wolfish grin appeared on the Defender’s face.

“Another hand still remains. Well done,
Preceptor. What else have you learned?”

“The only thing I know for certain is that
they are bred to move in the void between worlds. Consider this
material.” Lurec rapped on the shiny black armor. The surface
brought to mind the rough pulp of a wasp's nest. It might have been
smooth as polished obsidian once, but now sported numerous chips
and pockmarks among the organic folds. “Quite nearly a carapace,
made of hardening resin. I suspect it grows like fingernails or
hair with us.”

“Only it’s hard enough to turn steel,” Nassir
added.

“Like...a beetle?” Dayn asked. “Or a
turtle?”

“A shellfish, maybe,” Lurec replied. He
pointed out the elbows, hips and knees. The voidwalker's armor
formed curved ridges at those points. “It looks to be secreted at
the bones. I would imagine removing it to be incredibly painful.
You see the cracks. More reason for them to fear the Seed, after
the plaza. The real differences are internal, though.”

“What could be worse than this crusted hide?”
Nassir muttered.

The Preceptor prodded gingerly among the
reeking innards, absorbed in pure study. Dayn fought down the
sickness rising in his stomach.
I need to learn as much as I can
about it.

“Everything we know about life in the Halls
of Understanding dictates that the tissue of this thing is in
essence, dead.” Nassir and the Highest both shot the Preceptor a
dubious look.
“Before
his run in with your sword. Some of
the organs are gelled together, and the bone and muscle form a type
of―”

“It,” the Highest interrupted harshly once
more. Lurec suppressed an irritated sigh. “
It
was never
alive.”

“Shardian, how many of them were near Shard’s
worldheart?” Nassir asked. “Your best guess.”

“More than a dozen, at least, but most of
them were already dead because of the explosion in the
heartrock.”

Shir-Hun shook his head in amazement. “A
dozen darklurkers near the worldheart? You’ve seen more adventure
in this week than most have in a lifetime, young Shardian.” He
turned to Lurec, his face grim. “You will have this corpse,
Preceptor. I will ensure it remains intact until the Ring can see
to it.”

Lurec bowed deeply. He looked at the corpse
for a moment, nodding to himself. “I would ask that you do not
preserve it in ice. I’ve seen no signs of decomposition, and we
don’t know how it will react to moisture.”

“I...” Shir-Hun's eyes widened. “Of course,
Preceptor. I shall see it done.”

Dayn looked away, not wanting to embarrass
the Highest while he blinked dampness from his eyes. Shir-Hun may
not have ordered the attack on Suralose, but every drop of water
must be scarce for one of his High to risk such action without the
knowledge of the others. The Ring would be considered cruel indeed
to demand ice in such difficult times.

Lurec's gesture was small, but touched right
to the heart of Ara. “Thank you, Highest,” he said simply. Now it
was Shir-Hun's turn to bow.

“Would a complete covering of this armor
substitute for the sheath we use in the torrent?” Nassir asked.

“Yes,” Lurec said immediately. “Without
question.”

“Every generation they return stronger. Four
hundred years ago, a Defender could serve until he was
silver-haired and
perhaps
catch glimpse of a single
voidwalker. Those Thar’Kuri would hide at the merest threat of
being attacked, while these newer warriors relish conflict. Within
the last five years, we’ve killed twenty-six.”

“Woe that I lived to see such days,” the
Highest said. He sounded like a man shaken to his core. “Who has
been to Thar'Kur? What have we learned of them through all this
time? Nothing.”

“The Belt is fragmented when the worlds need
to be one,” Nassir said.

The Highest nodded gravely. “One. You still
dream the old dream, then?” Nassir gave no reply, and ignored the
Preceptor’s searching gaze. Shir-Hun glanced at Dayn with a sad
smile. “I wonder what the young dream of in these strange
days.”

Abruptly Shir-Hun’s voice hardened.
“Emissaries will be sent to Suralose at once. Hopefully Overlord
Feerthul will forgive the wounds of our...zealousness.” He grimaced
over the corpse. “I shall see a transport prepared for your use,
though it might cost me my seat. You’ll depart at once for Panen,
assuredly?”

The Ringmen looked at each other in surprise.
“How did you―” Lurec began.

Shir-Hun smirked. “This old man isn’t so
poorly informed of the Ring's doings, as he is of his own world’s,
at least. You must see the Seed secured, now more than ever.”

Nassir shook his head emphatically. “No. We
will make for Montollos.”

Lurec’s eyes shot up in clear
displeasure.

“And here I’d forgotten you were my most
irascible student.” Shir-Hun gave the Defender a curious look.
“What are you up to?”

“Yes,” Lurec said dryly. “Since there are
clearly not enough forces set against us already.”

“Our numbers are small, and the strength of
our foe is unknown. We must consider Thar'Kur may know more of the
Seed than we do presently.” Nassir looked at Dayn evenly. “I’m
sorry, Shardian, but I would ask even more of you. Montollos is no
friend to the Ring, but they shelter ambassadors from Porinis,
Quello, and nine other worlds.”

Lurec inhaled sharply. “You mean to seek an
audience within the Consul’s Tower?”

Shir-Hun folded his arms. “That is a terrible
risk. What would keep the Regents from taking the Seed by
force?”

“A promise of the Lord Ascendant’s
retribution has stayed greater hands from such poorly thought
actions.”

Dayn pulled his gaze away from the dead
voidwalker's sightless eyes. “I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m
ready.”

“Are you?” Shir-Hun asked.

Dayn met his stare without blinking. “Every
new world we go to brings more trouble, and it will only get worse
now that Moridos knows about the Seed. So why not go where we can
reach all of the worlds at once?”

“They’re right,” Lurec said. “I’d rather a
Regent control the Seed than Thar’Kur.” He did not look pleased
with the prospect, but nodded his consent to Nassir.

“Our transport bound for Montollos will not
even depart from Olende,” Shir-Hun protested. “You must travel
several weeks to the south to reach it, on foot and through sand
storms no offworlder will easily endure. But I could have you to
Panen in a week’s time, and―”

“And light a beacon of our whereabouts for
the entire Belt to see,” Nassir interrupted. “Talk of your order
would be on every navigator’s lips from here to Ista Cham. Any
direct route, to the Ring or any world, will only hinder our
purpose.”

Lurec rubbed his chin. “It’s for the best.
The Belt turns against us, but seeking refuge in the Great City is
completely unexpected. Thar’Kur must know that the Regents wouldn’t
willingly give us sanctuary.”

“A sad day for Ara if Montollos outshines us
when it comes to kindness.” Warmth broke through Shir-Hun’s grim
face for just a moment before vanishing. He deftly scrawled a new
missive at his desk, and passed it to Nassir. “As though the days
are not sad enough. Very well. I will play my part in this ruse. I
believe this to be the greatest threat facing the World Belt since
the days of the Breach. You can trust that the blood of Shir-Hun
will raise Aran swords to see the World Belt through it.”

“Peace upon Ara,” Nassir intoned.

Shir-Hun turned to Dayn, weighing him with
his eyes again. “Young Shardian, you bear a strong standard for
your kin and your world.” Dayn straightened at the Highest's words.
“Our Consul on Montollos is Bargis. Show him that letter, and he
will aid you. I will have servants see to your provisions. My
friends, may you be blessed in your travels.”

He turned back to the window in clear
dismissal. They left the Highest Shir-Hun to stand alone in his
study with the voidwalker corpse.

***

The Ringmen wasted no time, bidding Dayn to
fetch his pack and staff so they could steal out of Olende under
the shroud of darkness. They struck out into the splits, well past
midnight.

The shops and dwellings were all closed for
the night, and the streets were empty of vendors. They moved east
through a metalworker’s district full of echoed clanging and
craftsmen who preferred cool nights to the unforgiving Aran
sun.

Other travelers proved rare. The few they
passed never made eye contact, too intent on unloading supplies
from pack teams to notice the Ringmen.
I can only imagine how
odd we must look,
Dayn thought. An armored Defender with his
arm in a sling, a Preceptor with stubble on his chin. His own
height stood out worst of all.

Nassir led with his usual briskness. He
stopped them several times to wait for patrolling Aran swordsmen to
pass. It seemed wise, with the Aran High Seats circulating vague
descriptions of men in black armor causing trouble in Olende. The
fact that the High knew about the voidwalker threat and chose to
hide it confounded him.
At least tell others, give them a chance
to prepare themselves!

A few more twists through the splits finally
led to a main gate carved right into the redstone and guarded by
two grizzled Arans. The men tensed at first, but bowed formally
after a closer look at Nassir's armor.

“Peace and favor upon Ara,” Nassir said. “How
far of a journey to Peyha?”

“Peyha, you say?” The gray-bearded guard
cocked his head to one side in thought. He took in Dayn and Lurec
with a dubious look. “What do you think, Sern?”

Sern’s bronzed skin looked more worn than his
leather armor. “Hmmm. Two weeks, three at most. If your bounding is
sure.” The Arans looked meaningfully at Dayn and Lurec again.

“It is,” Nassir said firmly.

“Strange questions to ask in the dead of
night.” Sern glanced at a brass bell hanging from the nearby
redstone wall. “Don't you think, Hanl?”

He means to raise the alarm against
us,
Dayn realized. The wall to Olende itself stood five spans
thick. Several doorways and windows perforated the nearby base―Dayn
imagined the inner rooms held more sleeping guards.

“Strange indeed,” Hanl said. “Especially when
the High ordered no one to leave Olende after the day's trouble.
There's a killer needs catching. An offworlder, they say.”

Nassir shifted imperceptibly in the darkness.
Dayn wondered if the Arans had noticed his wounded arm. “I do not
wish blood on your sand, Aran,” he said softly.

The two men rested hands on the curved swords
at their hips. Hanl continued casually. “As you say, brother
Defender. I would rouse the entire barracks to stop you, and I've
no doubts it would take all of us to do just that.” Dayn's hands
tensed on his staff, and Lurec groaned.

“A fight I’d like to see, myself.” Sern
scratched his chin absently. “But an hour ago, a command came down
from the Captain of the Palace Guard himself. To let certain
parties pass.”

Nassir muttered to himself and Dayn sighed in
relief. “I’m glad the Ring still holds some favor in Jemlar's
Hall,” Lurec said with a sniff.

“As you say, Preceptor,” Hanl replied without
a blink. “But the decree isn’t meant for you.”

The three of them froze. Hanl and Sern
watched the Ringmen closely, measuring their reaction. Finally Sern
spoke.

“The decree is intended for...a tall young
man who likely carried a staff. A Shardian. I beg pardon Defender,
but―” the Aran guard looked past the stunned Ringmen to Dayn.
“Young sir, these men are here by your choosing?”

Dayn's jaw fell open.
Captain of the
Guard? Who could possibly...?
Then he remembered. “Peace keep
you, Brant,” he murmured.

“I'm sorry, young sir. What was that?”

“Yes,” Dayn said, fighting back a grin. “I
suppose they are.”

The two men immediately released their
swords. Nassir and Lurec gave each other a long look, then turned
to stare at Dayn.
You suppose?
the Defender mouthed. Dayn
could not hide his smile any longer at that. Lurec shook his head
ruefully as one of the Arans produced a small map.

“You know the shrubs that show where you can
dig for water, or those with leaves you can chew?” Sern asked.

“Yes,” Dayn and Nassir said at the same time.
They looked up at him again, and he flushed, embarrassed.

“Well, I figure a Shardian would know a thing
or two about plants. You can follow the road easily enough, but
these are the best places for water and forage. Hanl can tell you
where to seek shelter.”

The four men bent to peer at the map, Sern
holding a lantern close as he traced the road with a gnarled
finger. The night sky soon pulled Dayn away, and he leaned on his
staff to gaze up at the stars. The black of night possessed a new
texture that Dayn found both mystifying and wondrous.

It looks different because I’ve been in
the torrent,
he thought.
And now, I'm going to
Montollos!
Once, that seemed all he could ever hope for. The
Course of Blades still beckoned to him, but so much was different
since Wia Wells. What good was a Victor’s Sash if his family was
not safe? He silently wished them well, searching the night for any
sign of his home world.