"Nonetheless, we won't detain you further."
Iskola bowed.
"Though we invite you to follow us, if you so desire."
"I was considering it," said Iskola, "until you made the offer."
"Oh?"
"Now I question its sincerity."
Luma essayed an ironic curtsey, her best one yet. "A pity." She turned to depart, Noole at her side. When she reached the stone walkway at the bottom of the manor steps, she tossed the shoes away, letting them sail behind a row of diligently tended bushes.
Melune jolted from readiness as they ran for the coach. She and Thaubnis climbed onto the driver's seat, urging the horses into motion. Priza held the carriage door open. Noole climbed in, and then Luma. Melune's whip cracked in the air, speeding the steeds. Her bonnet already discarded, Luma shifted to her true form and wriggled her rangy body free of the bodice, farthingale, and skirt. As she shucked the disguise of Laryss Isulede Zaillo, she told Priza and Hendregan what she'd seen at Nirodin House. When she was ready for them, Priza passed her armor pieces, and Noole helped strap her into them.
"Do we go back and set them on fire?" Hendregan asked.
"No," said Luma.
"As tempting as that may sound," Noole added.
Luma adjusted her breastplate. "There's six of the Korvosans plus Iskola, undoubtedly others who can handle themselves in a scrap, and dozens of noncombatants to get in the way. And we still can't prove that they're up to anything. If we attacked now, it's we who'd be the criminals."
The coach roared through the neighborhood, past manses and their gardens. As they turned, skidding, onto a road leading to a gate in the wall, Melune cried out from the driver's seat. "Trouble!"
Luma opened the coach door and leaned out. The Hellknight squad stood in the road, just south of the intersection.
"Run them down!" Luma shouted.
Melune cracked the reins, wringing further speed from the horses.
The Hellknights formed a line, setting their pikes. One stood ahead of the others, his head thrown back, feet spread apart, and clawed hands held at his side. A flare of fiery light, shaped like a devil's leering face, appeared before the horse nearest him.
Braying in terror, the animal reared. The careening carriage struck it, and the horse toppled sideways into its partner. Legs tangled, both horses fell into the roadway, dropping under the wheels of the still-careening coach. Its axles struck them, sending the coach pitching up and over. Luma and the other three inside bounced in the tumbling coach like dice in a cup. It impacted the road for the last time, landing on its roof. After a long slide along the cobbled street, the coach veered into a ditch, then tumbled some more. Finally it struck a garden wall, falling to pieces.
Dazed, Luma freed herself from the wreckage. Blood streamed from a head wound, sticking her hair to her scalp. Staggering toward the Hellknights, she called on the city for protection. She asked it for a gravel storm, as she'd used against Noole back at the Triodea. Pebbles swirled from the street and roadside, rising in a spiral column, then flung themselves at her advancing enemies. Stones pankled off armor plates; one of the knights dropped to his knees. Luma ripped the leather protector from the blade of her sickle and looked back to lead the others on.
They were gone.
The Hellknights raised crossbows and fired. She ran, the volley of bolts landing at her heels. Reaching the remains of the coach, she searched for signs of the others, and found none.
Of course. They'd fled, abandoning her. Why had she trusted that it would go any other way, under the heat of combat? They'd never drilled together. Their reasons for joining her ranged from slim to ambiguous. If she couldn't rely on her family, how had she been so thick-headed as to believe in them?
Crossbow bolts thunked into the shattered coach. Luma grabbed a detached door by the handle and held it up, using it as an improvised shield. Bolts pierced its side, stopping short of her throat. Hefting her sickle, she sprinted at the Hellknights. Death by combat would at least be quick.
As she neared them, they grouped themselves into a tight formation. An instant later, a bright pea of red light arced into their midst. A conflagration blossomed around them, enveloping all five of the knights. She brought up the door-shield to protect herself from its heat and brightness. A knight fell on all fours, crawling from the flames, his ornate helmet dampening his screams. Arrows struck him, finding the spaces between his smoldering armor. He slumped on the roadside, vegetation cooking as it came into contact with his hot metal shell.
Smoke cleared, revealing Maralictor Perest Sere Maximete and the remainder of his men stumbling in disarray. A distressing seared-meat aroma filled the air. The maralictor swung his blackened longsword and thudded at Luma.
A yowl rose from behind the manor wall as Priza launched himself into view, swinging his axe above his head. Thaubnis and Noole followed him into the fray.
Luma let Maximete swing his sword into the coach door. It cut easily into the wood, allowing her next trick: she twisted it, pulling his weapon from his grasp. Letting the sword fall away, she brought her sickle down on the back of his neck. Blade rang on gorget, and he spun to the ground, helplessly panting. Hendregan's fireball had scorched his lungs. Luma slashed down at him; he plucked up his sword and managed to deflect the blow.
"You were put up to this by my family?" Luma asked.
He answered by hauling himself up and swinging his sword at her. As she leapt out of range, she caught a split-second flash of the melee on the road behind her. Priza's axe smashed a foe. Thaubnis held a knight at bay with her mace. Noole teased his opponent off balance with a strange flourish of his rapier. Out in the open, the knights faced arrows and bursts of flame from the garden wall.
Maximete lunged at her; in return, she smashed her sickle down on his helmet. The Hellknight's legs buckled. With her off-hand, she tore the helmet from his head, exposing a charred visage. "You fought with fervor," said Luma. "Now yield."
He feebly raised his sword. "A Hellknight does not surrender," he said, sinking to a prone position.
Luma turned to see all but one of the Hellknights prostrated in the road. Priza swung back his axe, ready to behead the last man on his feet.
"Hold," Luma called.
Priza stayed his hand.
"Do you not surrender, either?" Luma asked the remaining Hellknight. A divine symbol swung from his belt. To her surprise, Luma saw that it was the key of Abadar, the deity her own family worshiped.
The Hellknight made no reply.
"He wants to slay you now," said Luma. "His gang bears a grudge against yours. But that's another fight. My family put you up to this, didn't they, war-priest?"
"I follow orders," he said.
"When all comes out, you will learn that the Hellknights were deceived, and that what you did today served neither justice nor the law. At such time, it will be better for me if the men dying at our feet are spared. So, war-priest, rather than giving the Shoanti what he wants, I suggest you yield, and get to work healing your comrades."
The Hellknight nodded his assent, and knelt to tend his commander.
Priza lowered his axe. "Next time, devil-knight."
"Indeed," said the man he'd spared.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Irespan
Luma and the others staggered down the road. They walked until the Hellknights were out of sight. Thaubnis groaned with each step.
"You're hurt," said Luma.
The dwarf fell into Luma, grabbing her for support. "Took one in the ribs ..." She passed out. Luma let her down to the street. Priza bent to pick her up.
Luma scanned the nearby manors, noting a guest house not unlike the one at Nirodin House. A nod to Priza set him carrying Thaubnis across the manse's green lawn. As they limped toward it, the thrill of battle gave way to an awareness of pain. Luma's right leg hurt like hell; she looked down to see that her calf had been pierced by a crossbow bolt, just above the ankle. Welts rose on Priza's arms. Hendregan, apparently unharm
ed, walked backward, talking to himself.
A heavy padlock secured the guest house door. Melune pushed a thin rod into the mechanism, popped it open, and tossed the lock to the ground. After a quick check of the dusty, unfurnished premises, she urged the others in. The squad slumped against marble walls. Priza leaned Thaubnis against the wall. After dabbing blood from Luma's scalp, Melune slid over to the dwarf. She took a bottle from her pouch, opened its stopper, and held it under Thaubnis' broad nose.
Thaubnis jolted awake. "Where are we?"
"We didn't get far," Luma said.
"Why not?"
"One of us fainted."
Thaubnis snorted and reached for her holy symbol. "Let me fix that leg," she grimaced.
"You first," Luma said. "Worry about me if you have any healing left."
Thaubnis called down the power of her god, laying her hand against her side. The air sweetened; the gentle crackle of reknitting bones issued from her body cavity.
"I thought I'd lost you all," said Luma.
"I expected you to follow us over the wall," replied her mother, handing her a vial of liquid. "But you were too disoriented."
"Then I told them to wait!" said Hendregan. "If this lot went to meet them, the knights would have spread out. With just the one of you advancing on them, they clumped together. Rarely do I get so many standing so close! All five of them, burned hard."
"Yes, impressive," Luma allowed.
"We are doing very well!" Hendregan said. "Who's next?"
"Brace yourself," Melune told Luma. Using a pair of tongs, she grabbed the end of the crossbow bolt and pulled it out. Luma restricted her outward agony to a single grunt. Melune pressed a cloth to the wound. Thaubnis performed another healing blessing. The two perforations on the front and back of her leg sighed and closed up.
"They were ready for us," said Melune. "How could they know?"
"Iskola can cast magic that transmits her words to distant ears," said Luma. "On certain operations, we would go in first, and she would use it to direct our squad from afar."
"When you attacked us, for example," said Priza.
Luma massaged her calf; as sometimes happened after a healing blessing, a phantom pain lingered after the wound had vanished. "Exactly so."
"So she was able to issue orders to the Hellknights while still at Nirodin House," said Thaubnis.
"Yes," said Luma. She shook her head. "Which reminds me of a second spell she would employ, in tandem with the distant whispers."
"In order to direct you from another location," said Priza, "she had to be able to see you."
"That's right."
"A spell of scrying," said Thaubnis.
"She can do this at any time?" Noole asked.
"Until this afternoon," said Luma, "she had reason to hope I'd fled the city. Now ..."
"She could be watching us this very moment," said Thaubnis.
Priza grabbed his axe. "And calling in reinforcements."
They pulled themselves to their feet, save for Hendregan, who had already been excitedly pacing.
"We can't go through the same gate," said Luma. "There's a Derexhi squad there and I don't want to have to hurt them."
"Then we'll cut west to the edge of the bluffs," said Priza, "and go around the wall where it ends."
"With a possible scry on us," said Melune, "there's no returning to the garrison. We'd only reveal our safe house."
"With a scry on us, there's nowhere we can hole up," said Thaubnis.
Priza turned to Hendregan. "You're a magician. Scrying spells can be countered, can't they?"
The tattooed man pursed his lips. "I suppose so."
"You mean," said Thaubnis, "that they can, but not by you."
Hendregan's twitch verged on a shrug. "I might learn to wreathe us in a bubble of flame. That could burn away ethereal watchers. Or not. I am not a scholar of these things."
"Might learn?" Thaubnis asked.
Hendregan scratched his bald head. "With enough time, the working could come."
"So you can't do it," said the dwarf. "Not now, at any rate."
"Never said I could," he said, puzzled.
"There are amulets for this sort of thing," Priza said.
"You say it as if you can lay your hands on one," said Thaubnis. "By Folgrit's teats, is there not a one of you that doesn't talk in hints and riddles?"
"In my line of work, one seeks protection from arcane senses," said Priza. "My contact is not so far west of here."
"Bridgeward?" Luma asked.
"The bridge itself."
∗ ∗ ∗
Luma and her companions reached the bridge before mid-afternoon. Its bass notes sounded from the very depths of the citysong. Like other Magnimarians, Luma took its existence for granted. Now, shaken and bruised, surveying it for the first time since all of her comfortable assumptions had been torn away from her, she considered it anew. From the depths of her aching skull, an inchoate thought nagged at her, but refused to resolve itself. What was she missing?
Only a fraction of the Irespan had survived the aeons, and this portion was said to be hollow and full of monsters. Six of its basalt pillars remained relatively intact; they reached three hundred feet up to support a section of bridge hundreds of feet long. The stumps of as many more pillars jutted from the sea. Members of the Quarrymen's Guild chipped away at these latter remnants, reaching them by means of wooden boats, which they tied to docking rafts.
By purpose or accident, the Irespan's nigh-forgotten builders had imbued its stone with an inherent magic. Wizardly artificers had found in them an ideal material for the construction of golems, among other arcane devices. On this industry the infant city had grown and thrived. Without it there would be no great families, perhaps no city itself.
Luma and Priza started for the shore.
Melune called softly after her. "Luma?"
She stopped. "Yes?"
"You might use your new gift."
"To remake my face? Because I am looked for?"
"There is a value to deception," said Melune.
"At certain times and places. But not forever." Luma considered for a moment. "I'm tired of hiding." As she and Priza departed, Melune joined the others behind a cantina serving fish cakes and sugary ale.
Priza spotted a Varisian beachcomber and beckoned him over. The two men exchanged casual greetings, referring to each other by name. Luma wondered if the Varisian lived at the camp outside the walls.
Having paid courtesy its due, Priza said, "I'm looking for Veso."
The quarryman gestured to the most westerly of the shattered pillars, out in the bay. Black grit filled the creases of his wind-burned face. "He won't want to see you, I don't imagine."
Priza bristled. "Why not?"
The beachcomber shook his head and headed back toward his pile of flotsam. "Far be it from me to mix myself up in Shoanti business."
Salt-eaten rowboats rested on the rocky shore. A wrinkled oldster, back bent by a lifetime's labor, his quarryman's badge polished to a sheen, guarded them, cane in hand.
"We're taking one of these out to a raft, and quickly back," Priza told him.
"The hell you are," the man croaked.
Luma angled herself so he could see her sickle.
Indignation drained from the graybeard's face. "Normally there is a fee for non-members."
Luma indicated her weapon. "This is my membership badge."
He pulled at the most decrepit of the boats. "Take this one."
Together Luma and Priza hauled it to the water. They rowed, Priza easing off to match Luma's lesser strength. Upon reaching the docking raft, they tied the boat to an iron ring. A bare-chested Shoanti sat with his legs in the water, striking a hammer against a chisel. He was at least as old as the guardian of the rowboats, and considerably haler. A good part of the chunk he worked to separate rested below the waterline. Luma understood the basics of the trade, as bigger stones were subject to rustling, and the Derexhi sometimes engage
d to recover them. The larger the piece of Irespan stone, the higher the price per pound.
"Veso!" Priza called.
The quarryman ignored him.
Priza said something terse in Shoanti; it was, Luma guessed, a request for the amulet. She reached into her trickbag for a folded paper. It contained an ounce of soot, scraped from a chimney near the bazaar. As the two men argued, she added salt to the soot and muttered a call to the citysong, which contained and understood all speech spoken within its walls. Understanding dawned; although they spoke in Shoanti, she heard it as if they used the common Taldane they all shared.
"You still speak our language, then?" Veso was saying.
Priza jumped onto the wave-smoothed rock to face him. "You dare challenge me?"
Veso spat into the wind. "How could I challenge one who has deserted us for the weakbloods?"
"Give me the amulet before I break you in two."
"I accuse you of nothing," said Veso. "I merely repeat what I hear."
"And what do you hear, old man?"
Veso moved into him and jutted out a gnarled chin. "Your father would weep, to hear you address an elder so."
"He must do his weeping in Elysium, ever since you got him killed."
"Word is, you have set aside your wife and child to cavort with a weakblood doxy."
"When you were war-leader, you lent scant credence to the hissing of snakes."
"At least then we had a war-leader."
"I am leader by right of challenge. You are not, because I downed you."
"Some whisper that you must be a traitor."
"A traitor?"
"To your people, and to your wife."
"Then we must fight to the death, as you have accused me of a great crime. You are old, so I will give you my axe, and use only my knife to free the blood from your throat." Priza extended the weapon to him.
Neither Shoanti paid Luma heed as she again brought to bear the insight of the citysong.
Veso held up his hands. "I accuse you of nothing."
"You merely repeat the slander of others."
"I tell you for your benefit. He cannot lead who squanders the trust of his clanmates."
"My actions are only for the cause. I would explain why, if I answered to you."
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