Once through the press, they mounted a series of steps to a terraced portion of the city upon which several larger buildings rested. There was nothing remotely like a palace within sight. Behind the buildings rose a wall, high enough to conceal any hint of its purpose. Whatever lay behind it felt oddly familiar to Pug, but there was nothing alarming about the sense of familiarity; instead he found it oddly comforting.
They entered the largest of the three buildings on the plaza, and were led into a hall. Five empty chairs stood behind a table on a dais near the far wall, but the rest of the room was lined with benches able to seat perhaps as many as two hundred Pantathians.
‘This is our seat of government,’ said Tak’ka. He motioned for them to sit on the bench closest to the table, and rather than mount the step and take one of the chairs, he sat on the bench next to Amirantha. His two silent companions sat on the next bench directly behind them. ‘As Autarch, I preside over Pantathia and the surrounding communities.’ He motioned to the two other Pantathians and said, ‘This is Dak’it and Tov’ka, fellow Presidents of Pantathia.’ He pronounced the names with a sharp-pitched tone and a closing of the throat in the middle, and again Pug doubted he could duplicate it.
Tak’ka sighed in a very human fashion. ‘There are usually five of us, but two of our members gave their lives during the last defence of the city.’ All three bowed their heads slightly, as if honouring the memories of the fallen; then Tak’ka looked at Pug. ‘As I said, we have very strong feelings regarding you, Pug of Stardock.’
Pug said, ‘Tell me, please.’
‘You’ve killed many of our people,’ said the Autarch, flatly.
‘And you have killed many of mine,’ said Pug. ‘It was war.’
Tak’ka lowered his head slightly. ‘True; and to our everlasting sorrow.’
‘You find me at a loss, Tak’ka.’ Pug knew he was not doing justice to the pronunciation of the Pantathian’s name, but the leader of the lizard men took no offence. ‘We first encountered your people during the Great Uprising, when the moredhel clans swept down from the north and threatened the Kingdom of the Isles.’ He chose not to mention their goal, which had been to seize the Lifestone hidden under the city of Sethanon. ‘An imposter, who claimed to be the incarnation of a great moredhel hero, was revealed to be a Pantathian priest, disguised by very powerful magic.’ He paused, and his shoulders sagged.
‘We are a deliberately created race; bred to serve a long-departed mistress.’
‘Alma-Lodaka,’ said Pug. Tomas had shared much of his memories of Ashen-Shugar, and had told Pug all he knew of the Pantathians, as had Macros and others over the years.
‘Ah,’ said Dak’it. ‘You know our history.’
‘A bit,’ admitted Pug. Glancing around the room he said, ‘Obviously not as much as I thought. From my previous encounters with your race, this city is completely unexpected.’
‘Then there is much history that you do not know,’ said Tak’ka. ‘Many of those known to us as the Ancient Ones—’
‘The Valheru,’ Pug interrupted.
‘Yes, though we were forbidden to use their names. She who was our mistress raised us up for her amusement and to serve her. Others of the Ancient Ones did as well, though to the best of our knowledge, only the Tiger Men in the Great South Forest also survived the centuries since the Ancient Ones rose to challenge the gods.
‘Centuries ago some of us began to change. There had always been a caste among us who were talented magicians. Those you may know as the Panath-Tiandn are our most talented forgers of magic, but also our least intelligent brothers and sisters. When one is hatched, the child must be constantly watched and cared for, as well as protected from harming himself or others. It is a difficult responsibility for the parents.’
‘Parents?’ said Pug. ‘I thought I saw families huddled together in the square, but in the mines under the Ratn’gary Mountains I only saw breeding crèches.’
An expression suggesting sadness crossed the visage of Tak’ka. ‘So much to explain.’ He shook his head. ‘We began as a single race, a priesthood created to worship our creator. We have had centuries of debate as to our state of being, for we were not created out of the primal matter of the universe, in the fashion of humans, elves, and others, but rather we were lesser creatures—reptiles yes, though strictly not ‘serpents’, yet that name has remained. Our creator took a particular breed of lizard found only on this island – ironically that creature is now extinct – and created those beings with whom you are most familiar.
‘When the Ancient Ones departed, and we were told we were a free people, we had little choice but to continue in our duty. But then some of us began to change. We became more . . . Intelligent sounds boastful, doesn’t it? But we did. And as that happened, two other changes occurred. We lost our ability to construct magic devices and create spells. And we lost our drive to serve our creator, She Who is Not Named.’
Pug sat back. ‘I’m amazed.’
‘Our evolution continued until there were three distinct, perhaps “tribes” is the best word, of my people.
‘Those you know as the Serpent Priests are in the middle, I suppose you could say. They have magic ability but they are single-minded in purpose and of all of us, they most resemble those creatures created by She Who is Not Named. They are not critical thinkers or creatively intelligent, but they are very clever.
‘The Panath-Tiandn are the savants of magic, but need others to care for them in the most basic way.’ Looking at Amirantha he said, ‘It was such as they who fashioned our magic wards against such an attack as we’ve endured recently. But the priesthood removes them as soon as they can, for they have their own uses for them. We are at the other end of this spectrum, those who can think for themselves, have put aside the mindless service to She Who is Not Named, and we do what we can to have full lives.’
‘Astonishing,’ said Pug.
Sandreena said, ‘You mentioned a debate over your state of being?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Tak’ka nodded. Large black lidless eyes regarded her as he said, ‘We wonder if we have become true beings.’
‘I do not understand,’ said the Knight-Adamant.
‘We speculate on the question of souls and whether we possess them.’
Pug turned to Sandreena. ‘I would think that is more in your area of expertise, serving your temple.’
Sandreena could only shake her head. ‘I’m a warrior, Pug, not a philosopher. I know many in the temple who would enjoy the debate, but it is outside the scope of my knowledge or wisdom.’
‘Of little matter,’ said Tak’ka. ‘We may have time in the future to discuss this.’ He stood up and motioned for his silent compatriots to depart and as they did, he turned to the three companions. ‘We have had a fair amount of contact with humans over the years. We have, or rather had, a trading post on the north shore. It was the first place the demons attacked, and all trace of it was obliterated.’
Pug glanced at his two companions. They had seen no sign of such a thing when they had landed.
‘But given that our brethren in the Priesthood are frequent callers here, we always dissuaded visitors who attempt to travel farther south. Only one other human has ventured to this city and been allowed to leave.’
Sandreena and Amirantha tensed at the suggestion they might not be allowed to depart peacefully, but Pug raised his hand slightly, palm downward, and motioned for them to relax. ‘Macros,’ he said softly.
‘Why, yes. You knew him?’
‘Yes,’ said Pug. ‘How long ago?’
‘More than a century. His name is recorded in our annals. He stayed with us for a short while, then departed. He was persuasive. Though I suspect had my ancestors tried to prevent his departure they would have been unsuccessful.’
‘You have no idea,’ Pug said with a hint of humour.
‘Well, it is of little import. Other humans have reached here despite our warnings, having passed through the villages to the north. We as
sumed they meant ill and dealt with them harshly.’ He shrugged in a very human fashion and said, ‘Or there were priests visiting here and they dealt with them. Either way it’s of little importance now.’ He motioned for them to follow him.
‘With the advent of those creatures you call demons, it’s clear that we are in a situation far beyond our abilities to endure. I think we would have repulsed that last contingent of demons you so conveniently destroyed, but should another such band arrive . . .’ He sighed. ‘Well, I think it safe to say we would eventually be overrun. Our resources are now nearly depleted. We have refugees from the north, as you saw, crowding our plaza, and when they fled they brought little by way of foodstuffs. And winter is fast approaching.
‘Our fishers and hunters roam the lands to the south of here, but we have scant hope to hold off starvation for little more than a month at best, and should the demons return . . .’ He made a despairing gesture.
Pug took a moment to consider, as they left the conference room and moved deeper into the building, then said, ‘If we do not run afoul of your priests, perhaps we can help.’
‘You must understand we will not be able to stand apart should you, indeed, run afoul of the priests. We are created in such a way that we must defend all or any of us.’
‘I understand,’ said Pug, not entirely sure that he did.
They walked down a long hall until they found themselves at a circular staircase cantilevered into the wall of what appeared to be a tower. Pug judged it would rise into that large edifice he had seen behind the city’s southernmost wall.
‘You are regarded here with some degree of animosity, despite our understanding why you destroyed so many of our brethren. Especially the eggs in the crèches. Some of them most likely would have been more like those who you see here than the Priesthood. We mourn their loss above all.’
Pug could only nod.
‘As I have said,’ continued Tak’ka, as he led them upward, ‘we have diverged from our kin.’ He led them to a large landing at the top of the stairs, sheltered from the elements by a tall dome, with an open door facing into what appeared to be an immense garden.
Pug took only a single step outside: confronting him was a completely unexpected sight. Six tall pillars of light in a diamond configuration stood in the middle of the garden. From each a faint humming, almost musical, could be heard.
‘Sven-ga’ri,’ said Pug.
• CHAPTER FIVE •
Fugitive
THREE CLOAKED FIGURES HURRIED THROUGH THE DARK ALLEY.
For the fourth time in three months, Hal and Ty found themselves being moved from one of Lady Franciezka Sorboz’s safe houses to another. The two young men had fallen into the routine of simply picking up their meagre belongings and quickly following whoever came for them without question.
This time there seemed to be more urgency, more need to move quickly and not be seen. Hal wasn’t sure why it felt that way, but in the months he had been hiding with Ty he had come to rely more and more on his hunter’s skills, adapted to an urban setting. Alleys and streets were no more or less treacherous than trails and paths, and the predators in Roldem made up for their lack of fang and talon with guile and weapons.
It was early in the morning, perhaps an hour before sunrise, so the sight of three men skulking would certainly raise a hue and cry, given that the curfew inflicted on the population weeks before was enforced with severity by the roving gangs of marshals appointed by Lord Worthington.
Little word had reached them from their benefactor: Lady Franciezka had only visited them once in the last three weeks, and then had been tight-lipped. Something was afoot that she felt was best kept from the two young men, but both Hal and Ty could see that she was deeply troubled by whatever it was.
Since then they had been forced to endure isolation. For the frontier-bred Hal, used to wandering at will, it was more torture than he had endured in his life. He had combated it with a regimen of reading anything he could find – the lady had a prodigious library in every house she owned – and vigorous exercise, which he discovered not only enabled him to keep his weight under control, but reduced his worry and helped him sleep. And he spent hours practising his swordplay with Ty.
Ty was easily the most gifted swordsman Hal had ever faced. But in those hours of sparring, he had come to recognize patterns and weaknesses, and eventually he had begun to score his share of touches. Hal doubted he would ever be Ty’s equal, but it was likely he’d never face another swordsman better than himself.
Their guide held up his hand and they stopped. He peered around a corner and motioned for them to stay close and together they hugged the storefronts that were deepest in shadow as the dawn light shone into the city. As in most ports, there was a morning mist that would burn off early in the day, but for the moment it served their purposes in shrouding their passage.
They took a circuitous route but at last found themselves at the corner of an alley and a narrow street with high buildings of two and three storeys turning it into a dark canyon.
Hurrying along, they reached a door and were inside before anyone might spy them. Inside, two armed men waited and when the three threw back their hoods, sword points were lowered. ‘Good,’ said one of the two who waited. ‘This way.’
They followed their new guide down a short hall to the house’s back stairs – the servants’ passage – and ascended. On the third floor they entered a small room, used by the maid to prepare the service of meals.
The guide and the two armed men were unknown to Hal and Ty. All the two young men knew was they were working for Lady Franciezka Sorboz. All three looked dangerous. If nothing else had convinced them that the lady was important to the crown of Roldem, the seemingly endless number of these capable men at her beck and call confirmed it.
One, tall and heavily muscled, wearing the short-sleeved, close-fitting shirt and bell-bottomed trousers of a sailor said, ‘A pledge, gentlemen. Lady Franciezka asks you to swear that what you are about to see remains with you and no matter what may occur in the future, you will hold your silence. Agreed?’
Hal and Ty exchanged quick glances. Then both said, ‘Agreed.’
Their escort pushed open the door to the large master suite and the two young men entered. Three women sat quietly waiting inside a finely appointed parlour.
Lady Franciezka rose and waved with her hand for Hal and Ty to enter. They hesitated for a moment, for the second woman in the room – girl really – was Princess Stephané, the King’s daughter. The third woman was unknown to either of them, but she was as striking a beauty as the other two.
‘Your Highness, Lord Harold of Crydee and Tyrone Hawkins.’
Stephané smiled and both young men felt their stomachs tighten, as they had the first time they had been presented to the royal family after their duel at the Masters’ Court. Ty had won the Championship after Hal had been forced to withdraw due to a muscle pull during the final match.
The Princess was clad in a travelling dress, dark blue cut straight across the bodice and three-quarter-length sleeves, with a hem at mid-thigh and matching leggings. Her boots were plain and serviceable, suitable for hiking or walking. She wore no jewellery and her hair had been gathered back and pinned high.
‘This is Lady Gabriella, the Princess’s companion.’
Both young men bowed to the Princess and nodded acknowledgement of Lady Gabriella. Both Hal and Ty thought they must have caught a glimpse of Gabriella at the gala; but each wondered how he might have missed her if so. She was easily six feet tall in her stockinged feet, and like the Princess was dressed in travel garb: tight trousers and tunic, high boots, and a hooded cape.
Ty glanced at his companion and tried not to grin. If Franciezka noticed the byplay she chose to ignore it. ‘We have a problem,’ she said plainly.
Without hesitation Hal said, ‘How can we help?’
‘Can you sail a boat?’
They both nodded. Hal said, ‘I grew up in a coastal town.
I’ve sailed small craft since I was a child.’
‘Me too,’ chimed in Ty.
‘Good,’ said Franciezka. ‘We haven’t much time, so attend closely. While you two have been doing a fine job of staying out of sight, there have been events unfolding both in the palace and here in the city that were not visible to the populace. The short of it is that a coup d’état is underway.’
Both young men were stunned. At last Hal said, ‘The King?’
It was Stephané who replied. ‘Father and Mother are safe, for the time being.’ Obviously under stress, she still managed to remain admirably calm about the danger to those she loved. ‘Lord John Worthington wouldn’t harm either if he can convince them to sanction my marriage to his son. Once that happens, then he can do what he needs to do to make his son king.’
‘But your brothers—’ began Ty.
‘Safe, for the moment,’ said Franciezka. ‘None of them are where Worthington assumes them to be. For the time being, Lord John is content to think he has the three princes confined.’
The two young men glanced at one another, both instantly realizing that it would be futile to ask where they were.
Franciezka said, ‘What I need to do is take care of two problems at once.’ She looked at Hal, ‘Kesh has agents looking for you. I seem to have blunted their search, but there is another player, whom I do not know, and that has me concerned. Those agents are doubly dangerous because some of them used to be mine.’
Hal and Ty said nothing, but their expressions revealed surprise.
‘I was certain by now you had some sense of my role in the affairs of Roldem.’
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