Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic) (30 page)

Erlan's
men trudged up a nearby hill to search those tumbled down empty huts of wood
and stone. They went slowly at first, peering into huts, entering, coming back
out into the daylight and turning from side to side to search the yards between
the huts.

After
the first few searches they moved more quickly, hundreds of men spreading out
across the hill, ducking through doorways, rushing back outside, gesturing
widely. I could hear their shouts if not their words.

What
they found everywhere was nothing.

Floors
had been swept clean and every sign of goat or chicken was gone. No piles of
firewood, no sheepskins. Only empty huts separated by dead vegetable patches
and small twisted shrubs. Not that I had gone over to the lower hills and
looked. I hadn't. I'd never been in one of those places. They weren't open to
me when the families were in them, templekeepers didn't wander the city, and
now they would be empty and spooky to walk through alone.

While
the men delayed their return to look through every shack, I stood in the gate's
shadow and studied them, noting the torn clothing, the marching boots worn to
shreds, the small number of horses carrying supplies. Although the size of
Erlan's army had dwindled, his was still a huge following to feed.

I
hurried back to the temple, left open all the gates and doors, and lit the
candles in the ceiling lamps. Their light barely touched the walls. The painted
faces above the altar shone dimly in the shadows, the painted eyes luminous. I
stood beneath the portraits, faced the door and waited. I did not wish Erlan to
hurry, but if he took too long I could die of fear before he arrived. Or the
candles might burn away to nothing but sputters of smoke.

Think.
Think. Was there anything at all in his horoscope that I'd missed?

The
confusion of arguing voices approached up the hill. They came slowly. I could
hear the horses' hooves and the marching boots on the frozen path, moving in a
patterned steady beat, then stopping. They shuffled in broken rhythms and spoke
over one another. The march began again, louder, reached the leveled hilltop,
stopped by the empty stables. Next they headed toward me.

My
heartbeat doubled. The sound of boots outside the temple slowed, hesitated,
took a lifetime to cross the courtyard. Walked into the temple.

Okay,
time for my Oscar-winning performance.

Raising
my arms toward Erlan as he paused in the doorway surrounded by his guards, I
willed my knees to quit shaking and cried, “Welcome back, my lord Erlan. The
Daughter of the Sun has foreseen your safe return.”

“You?”

He
bent forward, squinting in the temple's shadows, his eyes still filled with
late afternoon light. The pale, matted growth of hair on his face could not
hide his surprise. He had a weak face behind the scars, with small eyes and
large loose lips, but I knew the heavy body beneath the fur cape could move
more quickly than the dull mind. His robes were mud-spattered. His boots were
torn.

I
chose my words. “It is I, keeper of the temple, priest of the Daughter of the
Sun.”

“Where
is the other one? Nance?”

“She
is gone.”

I
thought about adding a few “oh glorious ruler” phrases, but decided it might be
overkill. He was not a believer in the Daughter, which was okay with me if I
could make him a believer in the templekeeper.

“Gone?
And Tarvik? And everyone else?”

“Gone.
All of them gone.”

He
rocked back, frowned, creased his brow. “My lady Ober and my daughter, where
are they?”

Ah,
so the stars had sent me a snitch of luck. Their paths had not crossed and she
was not with him now to advise him. He didn't know Tarvik had banished her. So
here he was, expecting the city to welcome his army with feasting. Until his
men had time to search all the storerooms in the castle, he would presume he
could replenish his supplies.

I
said, “The lady Ober and your daughter and their servants returned to your own
city, my lord. They thought your paths would cross.”

“They
were to wait here for me.”

I
nodded. “Their plans were changed.”

“Did
Tarvik go with them?'

“No,
they left before the fever began.”

“What
fever?”

“The
fever that killed so many.” No point explaining viruses, but I counted on a few
historical references to work, couched in phrases from Nance’s chants. “There
is death in this place. It is well your family left before the fever came. It
leaves its traces everywhere to spread to anyone who enters here.”

Would
he remove my head now or would curiosity slow him down?

His
voice was a rumble of scratches and roughness. “Where is Tarvik and why are you
still here?”

Should
I mention plague, apocalypse? Or just tell him my headstone design preference?

I
babbled on because when it comes to execution, delay is always good, and it
might give Lor and Nance more time to get away.

“Tarvik
led the living away to build funeral pyres for the dead. He hopes the fires
will frighten the lifedrainers back to the mountains.”

“What
are you talking about? What lifedrainers?”

“I
know nothing but what I have seen and been told. They come from the western
mountains. Is that true? They look like giant bats in the sky and it is they
who brought the fever. Is it true they fear fire?”

“You
have seen them?” He grabbed me by the shoulders and leaned so close the smell
of him made my stomach go into a tight clutch.

Between
gagging sounds I couldn’t control, I said, “Yes, several, with wide black
wings.”

“Then
why are you still here?”

“I
am not of Tarvik's people. They left me behind to tend the temple.”

“Impossible!”
he shrieked. “Tarvik is here, hidden somewhere! I will find him. This city is
mine now!”

I
widened my eyes and stared at him, then continued with Nance-approved phrases.
“Do as you think wise, my lord. May your gods protect you from the fever. It is
everywhere, in the city and in the hills.”

As
he leaned even closer and his stench overwhelmed me, completely unplanned and
at a major loss of dignity for me, the fried onions burned upward from my
stomach and I doubled over and puked.

He
roared an oath. After wiping my mouth with the hem of my robe, I stood up and
tried to regain my balance. I felt myself sway with nausea. He grasped the hilt
of his sword and swung it above his head.

There
was no place to run. The temple walls imprisoned me. Beyond its doors his whole
ragged army waited. It would have been overoptimistic to think they were too
weak to finish off one templekeeper.

I
stared at him, expecting the sword to swing toward me but unable to think what
to do.

A
guard ran into the temple. “My lord Erlan,” he shouted, “the far hill burns!”

CHAPTER
19

Erlan
clamped my elbow, his rough fingers digging through my cloak. He marched out of
the temple, dragging me behind him as though I had no more weight than an empty
cape. His sword swung freely in his other hand, the blade edged blood red in
the last rays of the sun.

He
stopped and the gate, held me at arm's length and stared into the fiery west.

The
arc of the setting sun rested on the ridge, streaking the sky scarlet. From the
base of a hillside beyond the huts at the city's edge, in deep shadow, flames
shot upward, hundreds of scrub trees burning like giant bonfires.

Lor
and Nance. As we had planned, they had succeeded in soaking dry branches with
oil, then stuffing them into the small scrub trees. Better yet, they had
succeeded in hiding from Erlan's army, and had now returned to start the fires.

Next
line in the script was mine. My throat was dry and hot from vomiting and lacked
the deep dramatic tones I had practiced, but I managed to make my rasping
really loud.

I
shouted, “Funeral pyres!”

“Who
lights them?”

I
shrugged within his grasp. “Those who have not yet died. They burn the bodies
to prevent the lifedrainers from stealing the souls.”

“What
of Tarvik? Is he with them?” he shouted at me.

“I
do not know if he is with the living or the dead.”

“He
was dying?”

I
was perfectly willing to lie to save the others, but I was unable to look at
him and keep my voice steady. The problem wasn't honesty, it was my screaming
nerves. His face was so close to mine, the furious eyes small glittering dots
in the maze of scars, I couldn't think. What a time to forget my lines.

I
fell back on chanting. “I pray the Daughter of the Sun chooses to spare him.
And may the Sun guide the dying to his eternal home. May the Daughter gather
their ghosts before the lifedrainers can steal them.”

The
sun disappeared behind the ridge.

The
last ray cut through a gap in the peaks, a single gold pathway on the hilltop.
I caught my breath and glanced at Erlan.

He
stared where I pointed, his face drawn into ridges of thick flesh, tense with
anger and confusion.

There
was no reason to think my scheme would work, that Erlan would believe the city
was destroyed by fever on my word alone, but it was my best shot. He might
still follow Tarvik, determined to see for himself the extent of destruction
and the number of survivors.

All
I could hope for now was to buy them traveling time. They were the warriors,
not me, so part of the game was up to them.

The
fires meant Nance and Lor had returned. Were they still there, on the far side
of the hill? What if the flames spread out of control and caught them?

Erlan
shook me. “You have seen lifedrainers?”

“Oh
yes. Hovering above the funeral fires.”

What
I really wanted to do was shout, “Run! Keep going!”

If
Nance stumbled or faltered or Erlan discovered there were only two humans on
that far hill, she and Lor would be trapped. Shaking with fear, I stared at the
western hills. Because we had planned one more trick and now I hoped she’d skip
it and escape.

And
then I saw her.

And
then Erlan saw what I saw except that I knew the script and he saw the
performance.

His
hand dropped from my arm. I heard his indrawn breath.

“There,
you see! One of the lifedrainers, gathering the spirits of the dead,” I cried.
“Daughter of the Sun, save them!”

Drifting
out from a cliff's edge and down through the light shaft, huge and black with
tattered edges outlined against the last sun rays, was Nance's latest version
of a hang glider, a triangular span of wings as wide as a tent. She slowly
circled low in the sky, through the rift between the smoking hills.

The
effect was greater than Nance or I had hoped it would be.

The
play of fading sun streaks behind the thick screen of smoke from the burning
trees made the wings appear both terrifying and ghostly, black as evil and
tinged blood red.

The
guards around us fell to their knees and covered their heads with their arms.

Sure
he was stunned to silence, but I didn't dare let Erlan think too long about
what he saw, in case he noticed a small figure dangling below the wingspan.

As
the glider drifted, I began to chant, “Daughter of the Sun, take our spirits.
Do not let the evil ones have us, for the sake of your loyal servant Kovat and
his brave brother Erlan, do not let them capture us.”

Erlan's
mouth hung slack. His sword hung loose in his hand, its point touching the
ground.

I
backed slowly away.

His
guards cowered on the ground, their hands over their faces.

When
I reached the temple gates, I turned and ran. I raced across the courtyard,
through Nance's rooms, through the secret door to the stable. I slid it open,
stepped out, shut it behind me, ran out of the empty stable and hurried to the
building's corner.

The
sun had dropped and the sky darkened. Now hidden by the thick screen of smoke,
Nance and Lor would toss the wings into the closest fire. Then they would head
down the far side of the hills to where they had tethered their horses and get
out of there. From some distant point they would stop to watch.

If
Erlan remained in the city, Nance and Lor would leave forever. We had agreed.
Nance had promised. She had done all she could. And Lor would see to it that
she kept her promise, no matter how much she might beg to return for me or to
join Tarvik.

“You
must save yourselves,” I had told her and she had wept and stormed, but in the
end she had promised.

I
did not completely trust her but I trusted Lor to take her away to safety.

Now
I needed to try to save myself. I stared into the shadows and saw no one
between me and the castle. Creeping between the protective scrub trees, I tried
not to touch their brittle, rustling twigs. With each step my robe caught at
some small branch. I clutched it around me. The cracking of dry wood seemed
huge, louder than his shout.

“The
templekeeper,” I heard Erlan scream. “The dark one! Where is she?”

His
voice cut the silence. I heard his men moving and calling to each other.

“Search
the courtyard!”

“Search
the temple!”

“Go
in! I command it!”

Well
that sucked. Had I underestimated their superstition? Were they really going to
stick around?

“There
is fever here,” a voice protested.

Good
for you. Stick by your convictions, whoever you are.

“There
may be dead inside.”

Whether
or not they feared lifedrainers, they all knew fever, remembered plagues. There
must have been some really grim outbreaks in the past to make them argue now
with Erlan.

While
they hesitated outside the temple, I ran beneath the shadows of the trees to
the castle wall and touched the latch stone. Behind me voices rose. I expected
them to rush around the wall and see me. But in the dusk they hesitated,
arguing at the temple gate, not yet thinking to separate and search the
grounds. When they worked up the nerve they would run through the temple with
its many archways and cupboards and passages behind the altar, thinking I might
hide in a small space.