Fost elbowed his way back to Jennas in time to be nearly bowled over by a sudden commotion. Yelping bar patrons shoved by him. In the space they left vacant, he saw Jennas pitching a bearded docker out the door. She turned away, dusted off her hands with an air of satisfaction, and resumed her seat.
'What was that all about?' he asked, handing over her mug. The lout wished me to kiss him,' she said, downing a slug of her drink that would have stretched Fost on the floor. 'I refused. When he persisted, I put him out.' Fost nodded. He'd never doubted the hetwoman was capable of taking care of herself.
He sipped his own drink more conservatively. They hadn't come to the tavern to indulge Erimenes, who was now suggesting that a redheaded serving girl at a table nearby give into the importunings of a Northlander with checkered trousers and one hand on her rump. Fost was looking for information. He was certain Moriana headed for the Sky City. What he didn't know was its exact location.
Jennas tensed at his side. He glanced at her, following her gaze. Across the table from them stood a tall, dark-skinned woman with the brassard of a Jorean sea captain encircling one arm. She was a handsome, robust woman with gray strands mingling with midnight curls. Her cloak dangled from her shoulders, revealing bare breasts, big and firm and gleaming like polished ebony. She stared with frankly sexual interest-at Jennas.
'Ho there, missy,' she said, saluting the startled Jennas with a foaming jack of ale. 'You're quite a sight, and that's for certain. What say you you ditch this jocko and come with me? I've never seen a lass the likes of you.'
Jennas's eyes went round. Clearly, she was uncertain she'd heard the mariner clearly - which Fost thought for the best. If she had, her next move would have been for the wire-wound hilt of the greatsword leaning against the stuccoed wall. The Jorean was no more the sheltered type than Jennas. She was as tall as the tribeswoman and carried the cutlass familiarly at her hip. Except for the fact she was bare-breasted while Jennas wore her mail, they looked well matched.
She leaned forward, smiling widely. 'Well? What say you? I've a string of pearls on board my Wave-strider that'd ride right lovely around your throat.'
'No, thank you,' Jennas said a bit unsteadily. 'Your offer is kind, but I'm happy where I am.'
Fost looked at her in surprise. The mores of the Ust-alayakits being what they were, he'd expected Jennas to carve up the other woman for suggesting such a liaison. Later, he learned that such relationships, between two males or two females, were not unknown among the southern tribes; like other sexual matters, they were regarded as the private concerns of the participants.
The captain shrugged and turned away, looking sad. 'Just a moment, captain,' said Fost. 'Have a seat and drink with us. We're new in town and would hear the latest news.'
'You're a good sport, friend,' said the Jorean, cocking her head to one side. 'I'll say that for you.' She sat on a stool across from the pair. 'It would do me poor credit to spurn such generosity. Never let it be known that Captain Karlaya, mistress of the cog Wavestrider, ever turned down the invitation to drink.'
'I'm Jennas, hetwoman of the People of Ust. My companion is Fost Longstrider. He's a Realm-road courier. We're pleased to make your acquaintance.'
'A nomad chieftain and a road-rider, eh? I can pick 'em, that's for sure. Good for me neither of you took offense. Damn mainlanders squall so when a simple proposition is laid on 'em.' She eyed Fost more carefully. 'Aye, a good thing you took no offense. I know enough of this Realm of yours to know what a handful you can be.'
'You might have introduced me,' piped up Erimenes peevishly. 'But then again, I can't expect reasonable behavior from you, Jennas. You proved that by turning down the captain's gracious offer. I'm sure she'd be much more stimulating company than this sluggard Fost.'
'You wouldn't need a new slop jar, would you?' Fost asked the captain, who stared wide-eyed at the satchel.
Fost explained Erimenes' clay-prisoned existence, there no longer being reason to keep his existence secret. Karlaya was fascinated by Erimenes and offered to buy him on the spot. For reasons he didn't fully understand, Fost turned down the generous offer. Erimenes did not seem upset at remaining with Fost. He might have been afraid the captain would put his jar to the use Fost had proposed.
Fost bought another round of drinks. Eyeing the serving maid, Karlaya ordered amasinj. When it came, she tasted it, pronounced it unfit to drink, drained her mug, and ordered another. As she worked on the second mug, she related some rumors she'd heard.
Mostly it was standard gossip, incomprehensible to Jennas and useless to Fost. Port Zorn was raising its harbor fees; the Emperor in High Medurim had decreed a new pleasure dome, the fourth of his brief reign; sundry border skirmishes occurred. When the captain mentioned the Sky City's unusual activity the courier pricked up his ears.
'Is there any word of Princess Moriana?' he demanded. 'Surely, there is.' Karlaya mulled over a mouthful of drink as Fost fumed. She swallowed, studying the two. 'You look to know how to swing those swords of yours, so maybe this will interest you. You are looking for employment?'
'What do you mean?' 'The Princess What's-her-name, she's in league with Darl Rhadaman of Harmis. They're recruiting mercenaries up in Tolviroth Acerte.'
Snow drifted from a low-hung sky. An appearance of business as usual prevailed in Bilsinx as the City in the Sky floated in from the north. Mayor Irb stood on a balcony of his palace at the exact center of the Great Quincunx, the point over which mystic forces steered the City to a new destination.
Despite his official insistence that nothing was to be feared, Irb had mobilized his city's militia. Afraid that an obvious show of force might provoke an unfortunate response, in the air or on the ground, he had ordered many of his troops to remain under cover in the government buildings around the center of the town. The rest mingled with the crowds - merchants, dockers, casual shoppers, and the curious who thronged the cruciform Quincunx Avenues that followed the possible lines of the City's flight.
Titanic fungus-shaped balloons sprouted from the City even before it passed the northernmost walls of Bilsinx. Irb nodded, reassured. He had dreaded the possible explosion of eagle's wings from the Sky City's battlements. The appearance of the familiar, harmless, cumbersome cargo craft was anticlimactic.
The wind streamer dropped from the City's forward piers, a weight dragging a long orange banner behind to tell the Sky Citizens how the wind lay so they could guide their balloons with the least difficulty.
Messengers materialized at Irb's elbow. The barracks of the Sky City garrison had been discreetly surrounded. If anything was tried, the birdsmen would have no support from the ground. And word came from the camp of the Highgrass Broad mercenaries east of town that they were saddling and arming. In case of real trouble, Irb could expect rapid reinforcement from a well-trained cavalry.
The wicker gondola of the lowest balloon bumped cobblestones. The waiting crowd surged forward, handlers reaching for line to dog the balloon to earth. The gondola's side fell away.
Someone screamed shrilly. An instant later, a barrage of arrows burst from the knot of men standing beneath the balloon. The crowd stood stunned. Another volley and frightened townspeople began to run.
Irb gestured frantically. A company of dog cavalry issued forth from the gate of the Palace of Just and Perfect Governance and headed for the outbreak. Elsewhere along the north-south axis of the city, balloons touched down, disgorging their lethal cargo.
And now the dreaded wings of the Sky Guardsmen gripped the sky. Like malevolent spores, the birds dropped from the City, streaking down to preselected Bilsinx targets. Irb shrieked orders to his personal bodyguard. A hundred eagles dived straight for the ramparts of the palace itself!
In the Sky City, commands were shouted to waiting work gangs. Muscle was applied to levers, and heavy stones that had been hauled up from the surface were jacked over the side. Trajectories calculated by City mathematicians, the missiles fell in advance of the landing parties, smashing
against pavement to send lethal shrapnel whistling in all directions. Fleeing citizens were shredded by the fragments. Another rock landed on the lead elements of the column riding from the palace. The commander was killed instantly and the remaining dog troopers scattered.
Wounded dogs wailed. Women shrieked. Men fell gurgling with arrows through their throats. The bird riders swept low, shooting indiscriminately into the panicked mass below. The soldiers Irb had ordered interspersed with the mob died where they stood, unable to form any effective fighting force.
But resistance did gather in the Central Square. Footmen with shields and short spears poured from nearby buildings. Dog riders loped to join them, their mounts baying bloodlust. The Bilsinx cavalry were mainly unarmed bowmen equipped to meet the threat of mounted brigands. Their bows sang and arrows arced skyward. Infantry bowmen guarded by their comrades' shields added their missiles to the defensive barrage.
The leading Sky City men died screaming. Shots from the ground did not need to reach riders. Transfixed, eagles plummeted like giant snowflakes, their riders cast helplessly down to smear the cobbles with their lifeblood. A wounded eagle fluttered near the cube-shaped palace as though trying to land on the roof. Two-score arrows feathered its rider as he cast a javelin in pitiful defiance.
Southward floated the City, silent and still deadly. The battle roared and howled and clashed below. Sky City arrows and javelins slaughtered defenders in the Central Square. But officers of initiative were countering the aerial threat. On their orders, troops dragged tables and other furniture from surrounding buildings to erect lean-to shelters to protect the archers while they shot. Others barricaded the avenues leading to the square.
Outside the square there was little organized resistance. But the problem the Sky City strategists had foreseen - and dreaded - had arisen. Their balloon-landed assault teams lacked strength to storm the square and were taking casualties from the archers sent scurrying from the central strongpoint. Given time, the bird riders would wear down the defenders, clear out the square, and then land soldiers to finish the battle. Wherever resistance cropped up, bird riders could harry from above and drop troops to take the defenders in the rear.
Already, flight after flight of eagles dove down on the palace, raking its roof with storms of arrows. They would land on its roof very soon.
But only at a fearful cost in lives of men and birds, lives the City in the Sky could not afford.
This was of academic interest to Irb. He nodded in irritation when the Captain of the Palace Guard informed him of the fact; what did it matter that the might of the Sky City was broken when his city was captive? He was about to snarl a rebuke to his commander when the skirl of trumpets drew his attention to the east.
The Highgrass cavalry of Ultur V'Duuyek rode to action under bright swallowtail pennons.
'There,' said Irb with satisfaction. 'Now we shall see results.' The scale armor of the dog riders shone dully in the gray morning light. The leader, a compact rider with blue and green ribbons fluttering from the spired top of his helm, raised his sword above his head and dropped it with a chopping motion. Arrows rose from the ranks.
And fell among the startled defenders of the Central Square. The mobs that had clogged the streets leading to the center of Bilsinx had evaporated, leaving behind only still, dark forms. Nothing hindered the dog riders as they charged down the broad avenue, loosing flights of arrows at the defenders. Militiamen fell among carts and tables and crates in unfinished barricades. Archers returned the mercenaries' barrage. Steel scales clanked like the wings of a billion locust-encased men and dogs alike. The Bilsinxt arrows had no more effect than the gentle falling snow.
Bilsinxt dog riders charged to meet the new threat. Their arrows finally took a toll among the Highgrass Broad riders. The mercenaries slung bows across armored backs, undamped lances from brackets set alongside their saddles, couched, and charged. Heavy riders met a light wall. The Bilsinxt countercharge melted like a sandcastle struck by a sea wave.
Irb had time to call down the curse of the Dark Ones on the treacherous Count Ultur. Then a five-ton rock from above smashed into the north face of the palace, obliterating Irb and the balcony on which he stood.
Weakened, the battlemented edge of the roof slumped, falling into the street in a stately, horrid silence. The City's savants had reckoned well. As planned, a picked commando unit of six-score Sky Guardsmen swooped in the wake of the giant stone. Their eagles' claws scraped to landings on the roof, even as the defenders tried to grasp the horrifying fact that fully a quarter of their number had been dashed to ruins by the huge rock.
First to touch down was a huge black eagle, head crowned by a crest the color of blood. The bird named Terror voiced its bulging war cry as its rider leaped lithelyfrom its back, scimitar and hornbull-hide buckler in hand. Though not fully recovered from his wounds, Prince Rann Etuul led the attack. He had to be there when the stricken city received its deathstroke. With a deft blow, he laid open a spearman from clavicle to hip. Then he was running for a stairway, his Guardsmen shouting triumphantly at his back.
The Grasslanders drove like a lance into the Central Square. Raked bloody from above, ridden down by iron riders from behind, the defenders broke. The lucky ones made it into nearby buildings. The rest were shot down by flying archers. Other bird riders dropped their mounts onto the backs of fleeing militiamen. The defenders' cries rang hideous and defeated as the warbirds disemboweled them.
Prince Rann's men spread throughout the palace like a black and purple plague. Rann cut his way through a shouting rabble to the courtyard, swept the last defenders from the gates, and swung the portals open to clasp his leather glove in Count Ultur V'Duuyek's bloodstained steel gauntlet.
The City in the Sky had won the vital first battle in its campaign of conquest. It had taken forty-three minutes.
Snow fell softly, laying a white shroud over the dead.
CHAPTER NINE
Torchlight splashed orange and ominous down the snowy flanks of the hills to strain the listeners' faces.
'Free men of the North,' Darl said loudly, 'hear me!' They heard. Standing in the snow with their breath coming in white plumes, the men of the Black March listened to Darl Rhadaman's words. Chores would be neglected that night, beds unoccupied until late. When Rhadaman spoke, men attended.
'Long has the City in the Sky held itself aloof from the affairs of the surface,' he went on, voice deep and clear. 'Even contemptuous, aye. But always apart, alone, trading its magic for the goods we produced. They are sharp traders; so are the Tolvirot. In all, we and they profited.
'Now they are discontented. They want to rule the surface as they command the air above. They have treacherously attacked the Five Cities. They came sowing death from the air and Bilsinx fell. So shall it be until every city in the Quincunx is theirs. But will they be content to stop then? No!'
He swept his gaze around the throng of onlookers. The night was as still as a cathedral.
'With the wealth of the Quincunx they will buy mercenaries as they bought the dogs of the Highgrass to bay after their foes and drag them down. They will spread their dominion like a creeping sickness - no! — like a fever, raging, spreading, until all the Realm is infected with their evil.'
'We must act. The time is now when their schemes are aborning, when their treacherous grip on the ground is tenuous. Now they are vulnerable. Soon they will build momentum and power. And then your steads and crops will be theirs, your wives and children sacrificed screaming to the Dark Ones whose worship the usurper has revived. Will you have that? Will you?' 'NO!'
The sound boomed forth like the roar of Omizantrim in full eruption. Darl stood erect in the full force of their rage and fury. His expression was transfixed, transported, ecstatic. He was in his element. He lived for moments of power like this.
The incoherent burst of hatred resolved into words. 'Lead us, Darl!' the mob howled. 'Lead us! We'll claw the City down from the sky!'
Stand
ing just beyond the full glare of the torches, Moriana shuddered. She felt the blood-hunger gripping the crowd. If they realized a Sky City noble was practically in their midst, they'd turn on her and rend her like enraged war dogs.
WoP - 01 - War of Powers Page 48
