Lightnings Daughter

by Mary H. Herbert

  "But that bloodthirsty woman will suck up all of my profits. If we do not act soon, she will destroy the economy of this city; and without the merchants. . ." He let his sentence trail off, then ducked into a narrow gap in a pile of big bales. The pile reached up out of the range of the lanterns, into the darkness that clung to the high ceiling.

  From the smell, the clansmen realized the bales were wool fleeces packed and tied together. One by one, the travelers fol owed the merchant through the gap and into a narrow space as wide as two men side by side and twenty paces long. The wool bales and the warehouse wal surrounded them.

  Sengi set the tray and his lamp down on a wooden crate. "I created this space two months ago after Khan'di left for the plains. I thought it might be useful. My workmen will be here tomorrow, but if you are quiet and stay out of sight during the day, you can stay here as long as you need to. I will care for your horses."

  The men looked around the space dubiously. "Is all of this secrecy really necessary?" Bregan asked.

  The wool merchant glared at him. "If the Fon hears even a rumor that the sorceress is in the city, she will tear Pra Desh apart to find her."

  Athlone nodded once and set his gear down. The others fol owed his example. Sengi looked around to be sure al of his guests understood his warning. "Now then, I must get some more food." Again he rushed away into the warehouse.

  While the merchant was gone, the travelers piled their weapons and packs out of the way and settled down to wait.

  Piers picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed the contents. "Andoran Wine," he said in delight. He found his own horn cup and poured a ful measure.

  The wine was being passed around when Sengi returned. More bread, cheese, sugared dates, and another bottle of wine filled his arms. Khan'di followed in his wake.

  The others stared in amazement at the nobleman as he stepped into the lamplight. His travel-stained knee-length robes and leggings had been replaced by resplendent robes of brilliant blue and gold, trimmed with white furs and embroidered with gold threads. Rings clustered on his fingers, and a heavy gold chain with the dolphin emblem of the Kadoa family hung about his neck.

  Khan'di smiled at their reaction. "I've been to court this afternoon to pay my respects to the Fon.

  That is only right, since I am newly risen from my sick bed."

  Athlone cocked an eyebrow. "Sick bed?"

  "Before I left Pra Desh I had my seneschal spread the word that I had fallen ill with a contagious disease. My healer has convincingly kept up the lie for all these weeks. Now, at last, I am well. The Fon seemed disappointed."

  "Was it wise to reveal your return to health now?" Piers asked.

  "It was the only way I could learn what I needed to know." He rubbed his hands together. "We have come just in time." He waited for a few minutes while Sengi bustled around, bringing a jug of water, a couple of leather stools, and another lamp.

  When the wool merchant was satisfied, he nodded farewel to his guests. "Until tomorrow. And, Piers, I hope you wil tel me how you came to be among the clans. Good night."

  When he was gone, Khan'di lifted the hems of his robes and sat down on a stool. The travelers helped themselves to the food and wine and gathered around him.

  Khan'di hesitated another moment before he began. "The Fon has accomplished a great deal while I was gone,” he said. "The entire kingdom of Calah is now completely in her grasp. No one has seen the young prince for days. It is rumored she had him thrown in the pit beneath the dungeon. She has either beggared, bribed, or destroyed many of the old noble Pra Deshian families, and the merchant guilds are almost bankrupt." There was a deep undertone of anger and sadness in his voice, and as Gabria listened to him, she began to understand that Khan'di's motivations were not totally selfish. He truly cared for his city and its well-being. He wanted to protect his power, influence, and wealth, but he also wanted to protect Pra Desh. Perhaps Khan'di had earned Piers's distrust those many years ago in the old Fon's court, but now he was striving to save his city---not just himself---from the ravages of a merciless ruler.

  Khan'di went on. As he talked, he restlessly employed his hands to emphasize his words. "As you may have noticed, the Fon has not yet begun her invasion of Portane. She has delayed in order to gather more draftees and mercenaries for her army. I haven't heard yet when she plans to strike."

  "In about four days,” Piers said quietly.

  "Where did you hear that?"

  "In a tavern. It was full of soldiers. They were complaining about leaving home."

  Khan'di drew a deep breath. "Four days. That doesn't give us much time."

  "Does the Fon still have Branth?" Gabria asked.

  "As far as anyone knows. No one has seen him, and there has been no sign of any sorcery."

  "He's preparing,” she said, her voice strangely distant. The memory of her dream-vision flared up in her mind, and she shuddered.

  Athlone set his cup down and leaned back against a bale. "Preparing for what?"

  "The strike against Portane?" Bregan suggested.

  "Quite likely,” said Khan'di. "I have arranged a meeting for tomorrow with the masters of the city's guilds. I am going to try to stage a distraction that wil help you enter the palace unnoticed. There you should begin your hunt for the exiled chieftain."

  Athlone looked at Gabria. Her face looked so pale, it worried him. "How do we get into the palace?"

  he asked the nobleman.

  "I am working on that, too,” Khan'di replied. "I have an idea, but I need to locate someone whose help we need."

  "So what do we do in the meantime?" Athlone demanded.

  "Wait; A day or two at most. We must move before the Fon attacks Portane. If she breaks the alliance of the Five Kingdoms, the whole region will go to war. But we have to lay our plans well. The Fon is no fool." He rose to go, his fine robes gleaming in the lamplight. "I will be back tomorrow if l can." He hesitated, his dark eyes on Gabria's face. "If I don't come back within two days, please try any way. We cannot leave a sorcerer in the Fon's hands."

  Wordlessly Gabria held out her hand, palm up. The nobleman nodded and placed his hand, palm down, atop hers. They locked fingers in the clan gesture of sealing avow.

  Khan'di, satisfied, left their hiding place.

  Athlone waited until he heard the warehouse door shut before he turned to Piers. "Is what he said true?"

  The healer put his empty cup down and spoke with regret. "Unfortunately, yes. Perhaps even worse than he told us. The city is on the verge of open rebellion. The people here are terrified, but they've been abused as much as they're likely to stand. One spark will set them off."

  Athlone looked thoughtful y at the gap where the Pra Deshian had disappeared. "Do you think Khan'di is about to provide that spark?"

  "Undoubtedly."

  "I just hope we don't get caught in the flames,” Bregan muttered. The others could only nod their agreement.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  They waited for three days in the wool merchant's warehouse, a wait that quickly became difficult.

  The stuffy confines between the wal and the bales reeked of lanoline, and the narrow, enclosed space was like a prison to the roving plains people. They could not talk or move around during the day for fear of attracting attention.

  At night they had to stay within the confines of the warehouse. Sengi brought them food and water, told them what news he knew, and gave them what he could to make them comfortable, but he could do little to ease their anxiety and restlessness.

  Khan'di sent a message saying he was safe and still working on his plans. However, he could not come himself. Gabria worried about him and about all of her companions. The tension was wearing everyone thin.

  She was particularly worried about Piers. The old healer spent most of his time drinking Sengi's wine and speaking to no one. He sat against the wall, his eyes staring at a place far away and his body sagging with the sadness of his memories.

  For his sake, Gabri
a prayed that their wait would soon end.

  On the evening of the third day Khan'di finally returned, soon after the last laborer had left the warehouse. He brought with him a map of the palace and an old, ragged man wearing only a goatskin tunic and rough leggings.

  Once again the travelers stared at Khan'di when he came into their hiding place. His rich court robes were gone, replaced by a shin of chain mail, leather pants, greaves of steel, and a bright blue surcoat embroidered with his dolphin emblem. His normally controlled features were alive with anticipation. He held out his arms and cried, "Tonight, we go to war!'"

  The travelers gathered around him, everybody talking and asking questions at once. Piers rose from his place at the wal and came to join them.

  "Please! I will explain,” Khan'di cal ed over the noise as he waved them to silence. Concisely, he told Gabria and the warriors of his plan to attack the palace and free Branth from the Fon's clutches. When he was finished, they stared at each other and then at him in shock at the sheer audacity of his plan.

  "Are you serious?" Gabria asked.

  "Absolutely. The pieces have all fallen into place."

  "You are relying on a great many pieces,” Piers remarked dryly.

  Khan'di's eyes blazed. "This plan will not fail."

  "Can you trust him?" Athlone demanded, pointing to the old man who had been standing silently through the discussion.

  "He is a hillman from one of the ancient tribes that live in the Redstone Hills. He has given his word that what he knows is true and that he wil lead you where you need to go. He wil die before he breaks his vow," Khan'di replied.

  Athlone rubbed his chin. "Fair enough." He paused. "Wil you give us your vow, as wel ?"

  The nobleman locked eyes with the chieftain. "I swear to you before my god," Khan'di said, "and upon the honor of my family, I will raise the people and create the biggest riot this city has ever seen."

  The chieftain studied Khan'di's face and was satisfied with what he saw. Gravely he responded,

  "Then I swear before our gods that we wil fol ow your plan and do our best to find Branth."

  "And kil him if you have to,” Khan'di added. "Do not leave him in the Fon's hands."

  Athlone nodded. "Agreed."

  "What about the Fon?" Gabria asked.

  "If all goes well, you won't have to worry about her. She'll be too busy fighting an uprising."

  Piers looked dubious. He was the only one who completely understood the risks Khan’di was taking by trying to bring a city like Pra Desh into an armed revolt. "Are you so certain the army will mutiny?"

  Khan'di slapped the hilt of the sword hanging at his belt. "Enough wil . The Fon's regulars won't, but the mass of the army is conscripted and they want no part of a war with the other kingdoms."

  Piers shook his head. "My old friend, your audacity is astounding. Elaja be with you this night."

  "And you, Healer." Khan'di looked around at them al . "Tomorrow we will meet again. Until then, good luck, my friends." He started to leave, then turned and squeezed Gabria's arm. "Thank you, Sorceress,” he murmured.

  When he was gone, the clanspeople gathered their weapons and their gear. They packed everything they did not need and stacked the bundles by the wal .

  Piers exchanged his long healer's robe for a tunic and a pair of Athlone's woolen pants. He strapped his healer's bag to his belt. He was standing, staring at the floor when Gabria touched his arm. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

  "Are you all right?" she asked, for his face was sickly pale. He seemed to have aged ten years the past three days.

  The healer licked his dry lips. "I never thought I'd go back there. To the palace. Did I tell you my daughter died in that dungeon?"

  Gabria's heart went out to him. "You only told me the Fon had killed her."

  "Tortured her,” he corrected bitterly.

  "We have Khan'di's map. You don't have to go."

  Abruptly Piers's head snapped up. "Yes, I do, for both our sakes. Besides, a guide works better than a map."

  "I am glad you think so, too,” she said with relief and gratitude.

  "What about Tam and Treader?" Sayyed asked. "Do we leave them with Sengi?"

  The words were barely out of his mouth when Treader started barking madly. Tam sprang forward and wrapped her arms around the Turk's waist. Gabria, Athlone, and Sayyed clamped their hands over their ears to stifle the racket, but they could not silence Treader's frantic pleas ringing in their heads.

  "He's trying to tell us that Tam is terrified to be left alone," Gabria cried over the barking.

  A strange, sympathetic look came over Sayyed's face, and he bent down to pry Tam from his side.

  The girl transferred her grip to his neck, and he lifted her easily, whispering something in her ear.

  Treader's barking immediately stopped; the big dog's tail wagged. Sayyed glanced at Athlone and shrugged. "When I was small, I did not like to be alone either. I'll keep her with me."

  The chief agreed, and Tam shyly smiled her thanks.

  When they were ready to go, Athlone signaled to the hil man to lead the way. The old man could not speak their language or even the polyglot language of the wharves and streets. He merely grunted and loped out of the warehouse, expecting the others to fol ow.

  The moment the travelers stepped out of the warehouse, they sensed something was different in the warm spring night. The city seemed to crackle with the tension of a coming storm.

  A strange brightness from thousands of torches glowed in the market streets and guild houses. An angry murmur was heard in the distance---the blending of thousands of feet marching on stone, the shout of angry voices, and the clash of weapons. On the hil above the warehouses, horns blared from the barracks and the palace.

  The company had to hurry to keep up with their guide. Although he was old enough to be Athlone's grandfather, the hillman was as wiry and agile as a mountain goat. He led them down into the dark maze of warehouses, wharves, and custom houses. Several times the travelers had to press back into the shadows as groups of shouting, angry people, brandishing knives, pikes, or homemade weapons, marched past.

  Khan'di's uprising had begun.

  Before long, however, the noise and activity were left behind. The hillman led his charges out of the harbor district and up into the hills behind the old city wall.

  Gabria glanced up as they hurried through the darkness and was surprised to see the sky was clouding over. Lightning flickered far out over the sea. She hesitated. A strange feeling teased the edges of her senses, but whatever it was, it was too faint for her to recognize. Putting the feeling aside, she hurried after Athlone.

  The hil man was leading Gabria and her companions up the southern end of the Redstone Hil s, a place where the steep slopes were weathered by harsh seas. Deep gul ies slashed down between the hills, and rock-strewn crags reared up over the stony vales. Not many people came up into the hil s, for the inhospitable slopes made traveling difficult. Only the ancient tribes lived in the rugged lands, raising their half-wild goats, unimpressed by the vast city that lay at their feet. And only the hil tribes knew the extensive honeycomb of caves and passages that riddled the heart of the hil s.

  The night was completely dark by the time the party came to a narrow ravine about half a league behind the city wal . Clouds had total y obscured the moon and stars; the only illumination came from the distant lightning and from the torches and fires in the city below. The travelers turned to look back at Pra Desh and were surprised to see rivers of torchlight flowing up the streets toward the old city. The mobs were on their way to storm the gates.

  Gabria knew the success of this part of Khan'di's plan depended on the Fon's army; if enough men mutinied, the gates could be seized and held open, and the citizen mob would spend their rage against the palace. It was too difficult to see what was happening around the barracks and wal s, but it seemed obvious from the noise and the blowing horns that there was a great commotion going on. Gabr
ia could only pray that Khan'di's plot was proceeding as hoped before she fol owed her companions down into the night-dark ravine.

  They stumbled along the rocky bottom for a time before the hil man came to a stop in front of a huge fallen boulder. The massive piece of granite was half-buried in the side of the ravine and camouflaged with brush and rock debris. Without a word, he began to pul the brush away to reveal a narrow, black hole behind the boulder. Quick as a squirrel, he darted in, leaving the others standing outside.

  "Is this it?" Gabria asked suspiciously.

  The old man poked his head out and waved angrily for them to follow him. One at a time, the warriors, Gabria, and Treader squeezed through the hole. Tam kept her hand glued to Sayyed's, but she followed without a complaint or a whimper into the pitch-black cave.

  The party crowded together. The cave was barely high enough to al ow them to stand upright and so lightless they could not see the wal s, the floor, or each other's faces. No one dared to take a step.

  Suddenly a tiny light flared in the back of the cave, where the hillman crouched over his flint and steel. To everyone's relief, he lit several rush torches and passed them on to the men, then he gestured again and vanished into the darkness.

  "I think I'd rather be back in the warehouse," Bregan said, staring up at the low-hanging ceiling.

  Athlone gripped the warrior's arm as he started after the old man. "So would I," he said. "So would I."

  In single file, with Athlone in front and Bregan bringing up the rear, the party followed its silent guide down into the depths of the earth.

  *****

  Not far away, in a small, dark room beneath the palace, the Fon stood with her back against a wall, watching Branth through narrowed eyes. She was not certain he was ready to attempt the spell again.

  She would have preferred to wait a few more days to summon the gorthling and launch her army at Portane, but only a short time ago she had received word that a mob had risen in the streets and was marching toward the palace. The army, the soldiers she herself had levied, had betrayed her and opened the city gates to the rabble.