"Two days wasted," Omis complained over the poorly cooked evening meal. "Two days! By now I could have had the bombard smoothed and drilled and ready for its first test. Gods, if we can only get out tomorrow . . ."
"Hope the old vulture's stopped peering over our shoulders by then," Sulun commiserated. "Hope he's turned his attention somewhere else, or at least that Mygenos has. Most likely, though, Entori will want us to make up for lost time on the damned engine."
"And this one's taking longer because we have to make the valves ourselves. Gods' curses! I feel like a turtle trying to outrun a fox."
"With luck, we can get to the laboratorium tomorrow." Sulun wondered if they could expect any luck at all, now that they had Myggy snapping at their heels. No doubt his master would come sniffing around Entori house soon enough, hoping the old miser's ill luck would make him more amenable to a deal. When he found Entori still unwilling, he'd have Mygenos increase the pressure: more trouble, more delays, more work for Entori's hired wizards, more of his attention focused on his engine building, less chance for Sulun and his company to slip away. "We have to get out of here," Sulun muttered to no one in particular.
And on the third day, disaster came home.
* * *
The guards opening the city gates at dawn were first to see the dust rising on the road. After that came the first messengers on lathered horses, with the first retreating troops hard on their heels. The news went up to Imperial House first, but it reached the marketplaces less than an hour later.
The Ancar had crossed the Dawnstream by night, smashed the garrisons one after the other, rolled the Sabirn army all the way back down the south shore to the Baiz itself.
Lutegh had fallen.
The Ancar were less than five days' march from Sabis.
Panic hit the city.
* * *
Vari heard the signal tap on the rear gate, scrambled up on the small pyramid of barrels, and tossed the rope ladder over the other side. It creaked alarmingly as Arizun, then Sulun, and finally Omis climbed up it. They tumbled, panting, down the barrels as Vari pulled back the ladder and listened briefly for sounds of anyone following.
"How are the children?" was the first thing Omis asked.
"Well enough," Vari whispered. "They think its a fine -adventure, all except Ziya, who's turned quiet and morose again. Get inside, quickly."
They hurried through the darkened courtyard past barricades of more barrels and crates, into the silent corridor and off to Omis's room, carefully barring the doors behind them.
Yanados and Doshi, clanking softly with belt-strung weapons, half rose as the others came in. "Are you well?" Yanados asked first. "Sulun, your arm—"
"Only a shallow cut." Sulun tried to smile. "I got it ducking behind some timbers when a gang of mercenaries went by."
Vari shook her head and set to cleaning and bandaging the scratch.
"How has it gone here?' Arizun asked. "Any more rioters trying to break in?"
"Not tonight, not so far." Doshi shrugged, making his hatchet clank against the wall. "The old man has the place barricaded with damn near everything from the storerooms, swearing the house will stand until the very mountains fall. Then again, if the door does go down, there's hardly anyone in the house who could stop then."
"Entori still hasn't hired more bully-boys, then?" Omis winced as Vari pulled the bandage tight. "With all these damned -troopers-for-pay hanging about in the streets, one would think . . ."
"Even Entori wouldn't trust that lot," Omis snorted. "Gods, how right Zeren was. We saw enough of them lolling about the streets, drinking the wineshops dry, looting wherever they fancied, and bashing anyone who complained. As if the starving refugees weren't enough . . ."
"What happened to their officers?" Doshi hissed between his teeth. "Why in the nine hells aren't they outside, defending the city as they were hired to do?"
"Too many of the regular army officers were killed during the overrunning of the Dawnstream." Arizun leaned his head back against the wall, as if infinitely tired. "The mercenary troops won't obey anyone but their own commanders, who claim that they no longer had anyone to report to. Now their commanders won't take orders from anyone 'not properly authorized,' so they say."
"Which means no one who doesn't come from high up in the court, with gold ready to hand," Omis finished. "Nobody in the court has done that yet."
"Gods," Vari muttered, packing her remaining healing simples into a bag. "Why not? What's wrong with the high court?"
"Utter confusion." Sulun winced, and not from his minor wound. He hesitated to tell the worst of the news, wondering how the others would take it. "There seems to be . . . some manner of faction fight going on at the moment. Some gang of fools wants to send envoys to the Ancar, make terms with them. There have been . . . disappearances, mysterious sudden deaths, messages gone awry . . . No one's sure of anything. No one knows how bad it is, truly."
"Why hasn't the old Emperor done something?" Vari insisted.
Sulun heaved a profound sigh, feeling Omis's eyes on him, knowing he'd have to say it. "He hasn't appeared publicly. There are rumors that he's . . . ill, perhaps very ill."
"Maybe dying?" Yanados guessed.
Sulun only shrugged. The others looked at each other.
"And . . ." Doshi hesitated. "The rest of the city?"
"Thievings, riots, everyone running," Arizun recited wearily. "The city guards are trying to round up everyone they can, hauling folk off to the army court—not for trial, but to be pressed into service for defense of the city. You can imagine how much success they're having, especially with the mercenaries."
"Pitched battles in the streets?" Yanados murmured. "Have you heard anything of Zeren?"
"Battles, yes; Zeren, no." Omis shook his head. "He's most likely in the thick of the mess, and we stayed away from such whenever we could."
"We may never see him again—" Vari sobbed, then caught herself.
"He'll survive, if anyone can," Omis tried to reassure her. It didn't work, but everyone pretended it did.
"Well, so." Yanados tried to smile. "Did you make it to the river house?"
"Not even near to it," said Arizun. "Where there weren't rioters or mercenaries or press gangs, there were fires. We couldn't get through unseen, had to turn back."
"More fires?" Doshi went pale in the dim lamplight.
"More fires?" Omis jerked his head up. "Has anyone tried to—"
"Not here," Vari assured him quickly. "Just . . . down the street."
"How far down the street?"
"Three houses down. But you know how far that is, and it was put out soon, just a diversion, I think, while the rioters broke into the other side of the house to steal things."
"Good gods, fire!" Omis pressed his hands to his eyes. "They'll come here soon enough."
"Maybe not," Sulun tried. "By tomorrow, someone at court may settle the squabbling up there, restore order." But he couldn't believe it.
"Sulun," Omis reminded, dropping his hands on his lap, "what about Myggy's curse on this house?"
Sulun opened his mouth, shut it again, thought fast. "I think he'll have other things on his mind now, too much to bother with renewing his ill-wishing on us."
"But can you be sure of that?"
Sulun didn't say anything.
"We have to get out." Yanados finally said the words, firmly enough that no one would argue. "This very night, out. We'll go first to the river house, then down to the port."
"Why the port?" Sulun raised his head, frowning.
"Because . . ." Yanados let out a long breath. "Because that's where we'll find the Yanira. Her captain will take us . . . to Sakar."
Everyone stared at her dropping the veil over her secret at last. It was Doshi who had the desperation, or lack of tact, to say the words.
"He's . . . You're a Sakaran? One of the pirates?"
Yanados blinked, but otherwise didn't falter. "Yes. My father was a most successful pirate. He a
lso knew enough of the ways of pirates that he didn't want his daughter married to one. He could have quietly bought me a respectable marriage to some respectable mainlander, but I didn't want that, and he . . . cared for me enough to listen. I had skills, wanted to use them, persuaded him that I could make my way on the mainland. He gave me the . . . supplies I needed and got me passage to Sabis."
"Where you disguised yourself as a boy and apprenticed yourself to old Abanuz," Sulun cut in, seeing the puzzle fall together.
"Yes." Yanados tossed him a fleeting smile. "I still kept some contact with my father's people, though. Imagine my joy at finding that one of them now works the Yanira."
"So you took him aside for a brief chat, and explained to him how useful our steam engines—and we—would be to Sakar."
Yanados shrugged eloquently, not taking her eyes off Sulun. "If—when Sabis falls to the Ancar, who will be left that could defy them?" she said.
"Gods," Sulun breathed, sagging under the weight of the vision. Sakar, the multi-island fortress in the middle of the world's heart, the Mormuz Sea: the only land safe from the land-devouring northern hordes, one place where civilization could survive, the one kingdom that could restore the sea trade—or attack any seaports the Ancar held. Irony of the gods! Civilization preserved, even restored, by a kingdom of pirates! "Why not?" Sulun found himself laughing. "The 'honest' folk of Sabis have served us poorly; perhaps pirates would do better."
"Two small stumbling blocks," said Arizun, stopping the laughter. "One: is the Yanira in port now?"
"I don't know," Yanados admitted, "But if she isn't tonight, tomorrow at latest—her captain's a far bigger fool than I believe. With everyone who can afford passage rushing across the straits, anyone with so much as a reed rowboat is growing rich on the ferrying trade. You can wager, the Yanira's captain wouldn't miss such opportunity."
"Surely not," Sulun laughed, a little light-headed. It occurred to him that such a captain, in Entori's employ at least part of the time, would be in an excellent position to know when and where valuable cargoes sailed—and to sell such knowledge to his Sakaran friends. "Heh! No wonder Entori's lost so many ships to the pirates." And Shibari too? a sudden thought sobered him. Had the loss that ruined his former patron been likewise arranged? If so then the failure of the Bombard Project, the very fall of Sabis, might be laid at the feet of Sakar.
"Two," Arizun went on implacably, "what makes you think we can get to the port?"
Yanados stared at him. "Why ever not?"
"Have you seen it lately?" Arizun glanced at Sulun and Omis. Omis looked away.
Once more, Sulun felt everyone's eyes on him and wondered how he'd ever got himself into this. "We got a quick look, from several streets away," he began. "It was . . . totally mad. Even at night, people crowding the docks, howling like mad things, fighting for a place on board a ship, any ship. Sailors had to beat them back to get room to unload, and then the City Guard had to beat them away from the unloaded grain!" Sulun shivered.
"There were people fighting everywhere, falling into the water," Omis added. "The ships were overloaded, small boats worse. We saw one turn over. . . ."
"The poor folk were begging for rides across the river," Arizun took up the tale. "Just to get west of the city, into the swamps, on rafts made of barrels and scrap-wood, some even swimming. I don't know how many drowned."
"How," Sulun finished, "would you get to the Yanira in the midst of that?"
Yanados thought a while, then shook her head. "I suppose it won't get any better, not with the Ancar coming, not tomorrow, not the day after. And how long could we hide out in the riverside workshop?"
"Maybe two days before the food ran out," said Omis. "We night fish on the river, could we get to clear water."
"Upstream," said Doshi. "If we stay on the river, travel only at light, we can get past the Ancar lines soon enough."
No one answered him, but everyone gave a soft, resigned sigh. That simply, it was decided.
"When?" was all Sulun asked.
"Give us some time to rest," Vari insisted. "A few hours, at least. And the streets should be emptier after midnight."
There was a general mumble of agreement. Nobody wanted to risk those perilous streets just yet. A few more questions determined that everything usable was already at the river house, or else already packed. They had only to take up their bundles and go.
Sulun was about to suggest that everyone find bed space and get some sleep while they could when they heard the first noise at the front door: the loud crack of a stone hitting the wood, and the echoes sounding through the house.
Everyone jumped, looked at each other, listened.
Another stone, heavier, and then the sound of voices and fists and feet, that low, growling, tearing sound they'd come to know too well. Cries and thudding footfalls sounded elsewhere in the house, and Entori's voice shouting in outrage and fear.
"The door?" Vari whispered, barely audible over the growing noise.
"Not long if they keep that up," Sulun decided, climbing to his feet. "We go. Now."
It took no measurable time for all of them to take up bundles, check their assorted weapons, blow out the lamp, and peer out into the corridor. Down at the front end they saw a servant run past, apparently headed for the kitchen. Omis and Vari darted into the next room, came out bare seconds later holding the two smaller children, Tamiri running silently ahead of them.
Sulun pointed to the back courtyard, and they ran—down the dark corridor, dodging around bales and barrels, pausing for long sweaty seconds to unlock doors and get through them, out at last into the sweltering night air and the open sky.
"The wagon," Sulun whispered. "Where did you—"
"By the corner of the stable," Yanados hissed back. "There . . ."
They skidded to a tangled halt, seeing the wagon standing, mules already in harness, before the back gate. The tailgate was open and waiting, nothing in the wagon bed but a single large oak chest.
Someone was sitting at the driver's box, a woman in a dark dress. She turned and smiled politely at them.
"Eloti!" Omis gulped. "Er, excuse me, Mistress. Is Master Entori . . . ?"
"He will not come, not even now. Climb aboard quickly," Eloti said, as calmly as if she were discussing a jaunt to the market. "That front door won't hold forever."
"Yes," Sulun agreed. "Everyone, get aboard. Omis, can you get the gate open fast?"
The others complied, with considerable speed and surprisingly little noise. Sulun climbed into the driver's box and took the mules' reins. They seemed restive, but still controllable. He took up the whip, just to be sure.
"Mistress," he asked, watching Omis manhandle the gate, "what weapons do you carry tonight?"
"Only my dagger." Eloti shrugged eloquently. "Gently reared ladies are not taught the uses of the bow or sword."
"Best climb in back then, with Vari and the children. Omis, climb on!"
Omis came running, leaving the gate to swing open on blessedly silent darkness behind him. He vaulted into the driver's box just as Eloti stepped neatly into the wagon box and sat down on the chest. Sulun glanced back and saw that the others were either huddled down among the baggage or else crouched along the sides and back of the wagon, bows and axes ready in their hands.
Behind them came a cracking and splintering sound as the front door of Entori House gave way.
Sulun shook the reins and cracked the whip over the mules' backs.
Willing and eager, for once, the mules leaped for the gate. Sulun hauled hard on the right reins to make the turn into the back alley, grateful that he'd practiced this maneuver a few times before. The wagon wheels growled and rumbled on the packed earth.
"Gods, the noise!" Omis hissed. "In the streets, they'll hear us coming."
"Move fast," Yanados volunteered. "Move fast and shoot arrows early."
Behind her, a child's voice rose softly in a keening wail of grief; Ziya, feeling old wounds reopened. Vari murmure
d attempts at comfort, but had no effect.
"Don't cry; shoot!" Arizun snapped, pressing another bow into her hands.
Ziya took the bow, nocked an arrow, and fell silent.
The wagon rumbled out into the street—and into a thin crowd all running to the right, toward the street where Entori House fronted. Sulun reined the mules to the left, and lashed wildly about him with the whip. Omis whipped up a heavy bow and let fly into the street, catching the tail of somebody's cloak. At least one of the crowd thumped into the mules, fell, went under their hooves—but managed to roll away from the wheels. Sulun whispered a brief prayer of thanks for that as the scrambling mules began gathering speed. Oncoming looters jumped aside, not ready to attack fast-moving animals and a well-armed crowd on a heavy wagon. Yanados turned and shot a few arrows to the rear to discourage anyone from following. The arrows skittered off walls and pavement, but no one followed.
In a moment, the wagon was thundering down an empty street, dark save for moonlight and an occasional lamplight glow behind shuttered windows.
"Straight three streets, then right," Omis panted. "Pray the fires have died down near the river turnoff. . . ."
"I know," Sulun panted. "Get ready for more mobs. Gods, keep us from the troops!"
At the third street, they saw torches—too many torches, in the hands of too many men—coming toward them from the left. Sulun hauled the mules to the right, hearing shouts behind him. Someone in that mob had a bow too, for an arrow thunked into the tailgate. Yanados and Arizun fired back together, and Sulun lashed the mules into a gallop. The mob fell behind and the wagon went careening up the street.
Two cross streets up, a handful of silent men made a dash for the wagon. Sulun hit one across the face with the whip, Omis backhanded another with his axe, and a third fell to the now panicky mules. This time Sulun did feel the heavy thump of a body going under the wagon wheels, and struggled not to be sick, not now, not here. The other robbers, whoever they were, disappeared back into the shadows.
A Dirge for Sabis Page 17
