“Hear me out,” he said, smiling. “Should you and I go, alone, we would look like two mercenaries. Correct?”
I nodded shortly.
“Two mercenaries will be watched closely. In these days of Brutal’s reign of terror, armed men with or without anyone to guard will cause some degree of suspicion. Enough, at least, to watch us. We might be recognized. However.”
Rygel paused to smile at Ly’Tana. “A priestess of Osimi arriving at the gates to tend to Osimi’s worshippers in their hour of need would be, for want of a better word, expected. And since Osimi’s priestesses have a reputation for being chancy to cross, few would dare a curse by questioning her too closely.”
“I have a better plan,” I said. “Change how you and I look with your magic, and we still leave Ly’Tana behind.”
At this, she glared at me. Kel’Ratan nodded approval. Rygel shook his head vigorously, his wheaten hair flying. He frowned.
“I could, but any wizard worth his salt can spot my magic being used, if it’s used in such abundance. That’s as good as walking up to Brutal’s palace and announcing ourselves. My net is subtle enough that it’s easy to miss unless Brutal’s magician was looking for it.”
Kel’Ratan and I stared at one another, helpless.
“I’m so glad that’s all settled,” Ly’Tana said sweetly, as though we had just decided our dinner menu. “Why it took so long for you all to see my point of view is beyond me.”
Rygel huffed. She glared at him, his huff turning immediately into a shocked cough.
“We leave immediately. Anyone else have a problem with that?” she demanded.
She turned that green fury on me, but I merely smiled and offered her a half-salute. “I reckon your word is law, Your Highness,” I said mildly.
“Too bloody right,” she gritted.
Lifting one bare, well-muscled leg over her horse’s neck, she jumped to the ground. Two long strides took her to Bar, who eyed her warily. Before he could stop her, Ly’Tana yanked a handful of feathers from his mane. Bar shrieked in outrage, half-jumping, half-winging backward, away from her. Unruffled by the huge griffin’s fury, she calmly set to tying a feather into her hair, and another into her buckskin’s mane.
“I lost mine in the forest,” she said in a detached voice.
Her thinned lips daring us to refuse, she held the remaining feathers out to us. I took one and tied it to Rufus’s mane, and twisted in my saddle to set another in his tail. Rygel and Kel’Ratan silently followed suit.
Digging the white dress from her saddlebags, Ly’Tana royally turned her back and stalked regally back into the monastery. Kel’Ratan sighed.
“The rest of you stay here,” he said. “Stable your horses and try to stay out of sight as much as possible. Wolf, how long, do you think, till we return?”
“She’s in the Harbor District,” I replied. “It’s in the northwest quarter.”
“I know right where that is,” Rygel said. “I’m guessing we can be there by tonight, if we leave now. Perhaps return by late morning tomorrow.”
“Good.” Kel’Ratan gestured to the warriors, who dismounted and began leading their horses back toward the monastery.
As they walked away, I heard Witraz grumble to Rannon, “We go, then we stay, we’re to go, then we stay. This is what happens when we follow a female. They can never make up their minds.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, saw me watching him, and grinned. Tipping me a wink, he and Rannon sparred, mock punching each other as they strode back up the hill.
“Who owns her?” Rygel asked me.
Startled by his question, I dragged my eyes from the warriors and back to Rygel.
“A fish oil merchant.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “There are only about a hundred of those. Do we know his name?”
“Adhas.”
His face immediately brightened. “That should make it easier.”
My brow rose a notch. “How so?”
“That’s a woman’s name. There can’t be too many female fish oil merchants.”
Kel’Ratan crossed his arms. “So we just ride down there and ask for a woman named Adhas who runs a fish oil business?”
Rygel shrugged. “That’s pretty what I had in mind.”
“It might be a tad suspicious if we have to keep asking around for her,” I said and Kel’Ratan nodded agreement.
“That’s why you’re lucky I agreed to come along.”
As though I had any choice in the matter, I grumbled inwardly.
Smugness oozed out of Rygel, making me want to turn him over my knee and paddle his butt. “I just happen to know someone who would know where to find a certain female fish oil merchant named Adhas.”
I exchanged a curious glance with Kel’Ratan. “How do you know people like that?” I asked.
“Before I became the High King’s—er, guest, I haunted some of the seedier parts of Soudan. I’m fairly well acquainted with people who know things.”
“That sounds like a tale worth hearing,” I said, turning to see Ly’Tana stride back to her buckskin stallion and repack her warrior’s clothing. Her sword and bow rolled up into a blanket she tied to the back of her saddle. She wore the white dress of an Osimi priestess, the feather in her flowing red-gold hair swinging jauntily in the light breeze.
“Are we ready?” she asked.
For answer, Kel’Ratan and Rygel vaulted into their saddles and waited while Ly’Tana made to jump into her own. The white dress did not allow for mounting in that fashion, and Ly’Tana floundered about for a few moments, trying to set a foot in her stirrup. The buckskin waited patiently, but the dress refused to cooperate. Rygel concealed a grin and Kel’Ratan carefully studied the warriors still filing their way into the monastery. Ly’Tana cast me a mute appeal over her shoulder, her green eyes silently pleading.
Sliding down from my saddle, I ignored her lifted leg, inviting me to give her a mere leg up. Instead, I seized her about her tiny waist with both hands and lifted her, setting her on the buckskin’s saddle. Ly’Tana thanked me with a sweet smile and then wheeled him about to the still sulking Bar.
“You stay here,” she ordered. “I won’t rescue you again.”
He flapped his wings angrily, clicking his beak in obvious irritation. However, he stayed where he was, as she set heels to her stallion and set off at a gallop. Kel’Ratan followed after, but Rygel held in his black while I vaulted into Rufus’s saddle.
“Your sister, eh? What’s she like?”
“How would I know?” I growled. “I haven’t seen her since she was six years old.”
“If she’s anything like you, we’re in trouble deep.”
He let the black out into a full gallop after Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan. I held the dancing Rufus back for a moment to offer Bar a half-salute. “See you tomorrow, old lad. No worries. I’ll look after her.”
What his answer was, I had no idea. He made a sound like a cross between a chirp and a screech that meant naught to me. I surmised it was a threat of what he’d do to me if I failed in my task. I relaxed his reins, and Rufus shot forward like an arrow from a bow. He overtook Rygel’s black and passed him with ease, catching up to Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan within moments.
“That’s quite a horse,” Kel’Ratan commented as I slowed Rufus to gallop alongside his bay. Rufus had not even raised a sweat, and his breathing was still even. Rygel’s horse lagged behind, unable to catch up even at a full gallop. I heard Rygel cursing at the poor beast.
“He’s the best in Lionel’s stables.”
“Perhaps he has some Tarbane blood in him,” Kel’Ratan went on, his expert eye on Rufus weighing, judging.
“What’s a Tarbane?”
I caught surprised glances from both of them. “You’ve never heard of the Tarbane?” Ly’Tana asked.
I shook my head, reining Rufus in and slowing him to a heavy canter. The woods grew close and I needed Rygel to find the trail we sought that would lead us back to Sou
dan. The others reined their beasts in and Rygel finally managed to catch us up and slow his snorting black.
“The Tarbane are the horses of the gods,” Ly’Tana explained. “Our warrior goddess, Nephrotiti, created them for her own use as she rides across the heavens. Legends say that when our kingdom was founded thousands of years ago, a few Tarbane agreed to mount Kel’Hallan mares to improve our stock. We ride their descendants.”
My brow rose a notch. “Agreed?”
“Akin to ordinary horses, the Tarbane are a race of highly intelligent creatures,” Kel’Ratan said. “They look like horses, but have a language, customs, kings and gods of their own.”
“They are also bigger, stronger and faster than any horse on this earth,” Ly’Tana continued. “It’s said that only an arrow in flight can overtake a Tarbane at a dead run.”
“The last two or three centuries,” Kel’Ratan went on, “the Tarbane have refused to deal with human-kind. Too many sought to conquer and ride them as they would common horses. Thus they hide away in the far places, seen from time to time, but only at a distance.”
“It’s rather sad,” Ly’Tana said. “Once there was a common bond between us and Tarbane. But man’s evil destroyed it.”
“Um, I hate to break up this interesting conversation,” Rygel said, “but we need to disguise our big friend here. The road that leads to the north gate is just beyond that ridge. It’s fairly well travelled, so we need to play our parts. We should reach the gate by nightfall.”
I sighed. “Blond again?”
“You have something against blonds?” he demanded, miffed.
“Aye,” I said. “Then I look like you.”
“You simply have no taste, braud,” Rygel replied loftily. “Blond hair, blue eyes. And an eye patch.”
“An eye patch?” I exchanged a questioning glance with Ly’Tana, who shrugged.
“Aye.” Rygel peered closely into my face, then an instant later a black patch covered my left eye, its band wound around my head. “If you look sinister, people will avoid you, and not wish to look at you too closely.”
I found the partial blindness awkward and I had difficulty getting used to the newness of having to turn my head all the way around to eye Ly’Tana’s slender body. The tight band and seeing from one eye alone gave rise to a fierce headache. I wondered sourly if Rygel planned that as well. From my right eye, I could see a lock of blond hair curling over my shoulder, and I sighed.
“How is it you two claim blood kinship?” Kel’Ratan asked. “You are not brothers.”
“We are brothers in the eyes of the gods,” Rygel answered primly. “We are ehlu’braud. Blood brothers.”
I let Rygel explain, content to ride and occasionally cock my head to eye Ly’Tana when she was not looking. She listened to Rygel’s story with rapt attention, while my eyes roved over her slender figure. The white priestess dress does not become her as well as her leather skirt does, I thought. Nor could I see the diamond in her navel. Disappointing. I still liked looking at her, though. I liked it very much.
“I saved his life,” Rygel was saying. “He saved mine. That gives us brotherhood in the eyes of the gods of my land. We held a ceremony at the inn not long before you invited us to join you. We now are brothers of blood.”
Kel’Ratan slowed his bay to a trot to look Rygel full in the face, his expression intent. “Is that how you knew Wolf wasn’t dead?”
“Aye,” Rygel replied. “The magic created a bond only death can break. We can sense certain things about each other. Sometimes we can sense each other’s feelings, occasionally where one brother is located. And if one of us is dead.”
Ly’Tana looked at me with speculation in her emerald eyes. I pretended not to notice, gazing steadfastly between Rufus’s ears as we loped along. She watched me for several long moments, making me distinctly uncomfortable. I found excuse to look at Kel’Ratan when he commented on Rygel’s jewelry, and she also ceased her intent stare to glance at Rygel.
“A priestess’s guard does not wear a torque of royalty,” he said. “I’ve already hidden mine and Ly’Tana’s. You’d best be in disguise as well.”
“Ack.”
Rygel worked the gold torque from his throat, stuffing it in his saddlebag. Kel’Ratan gestured toward his ear, and with a grimace, Rygel once more took the diamond from his earlobe. Kel’Ratan studied both of us for long moments, then nodded with satisfaction.
“We should pass with little difficulty,” he said. “And hope we haven’t offended Osimi by impersonating one of her priestesses.”
“As she is sister to our own Nephrotiti,” Ly’Tana said with a sniff, “she will not be offended. She may even be pleased, and perhaps hopes to recruit me. I would make a very good Lady High Priestess.”
Kel’Ratan snorted, but offered no other comment.
An hour of steady riding brought us to the highly travelled road leading into Soudan. The sun had begun its western descent toward the distant mountains, bringing the high towers of Soudan’s palaces into sharp relief.
Other travelers rode or drove their wagons both directions along the road as we joined it. I slumped in the saddle, trying not to look as big as I was, hoping to avoid any possible second glances in my direction. Most people bowed their deference to the regal Osimi priestess, surrounded by her honor guard. Rygel rode to her left and Kel’Ratan her right, while I held Rufus right behind her buckskin’s tail. Ly’Tana looked neither right nor left as she rode, her head high, her back ramrod straight, a faint sneer of disdain marring her usually open, friendly features. If Osimi is as haughty as her priestesses are, I thought, I could never worship her. The Holy Seven of my homeland were far more friendly and approachable.
As any good honor guard would, I eyed the people as they passed, noting the suspicious stares our weapons and warrior clothing earned us. However, the poor folk offered very little threat to Ly’Tana’s holy person. I observed refugees fleeing the capital, families with wagons drawn by mules or oxen, piled high with furniture and household goods, ragged children perched on top. One small boy, perhaps two years old with a ring in his nose, sucked his thumb as he rode pillion behind his mother, his huge dark eyes watching me solemnly as I trotted past. Panicked merchants fled Soudan with caravans stacked high with goods covered in tarpaulins, outriders guarding each wagon. I lost count of the caravans that passed me, their owners hoping to set up shop somewhere less dangerous. Beggars carrying small packs walked, backs bent, scratching at lice, but only a few attempting to beg a coin or a morsel. At the sight of Ly’Tana’s white gown and feathers, no few sought alms from her. True to form, she ignored them. Reaching behind me, I dug some dried meat from my saddlebags and tossed them to the hungrier looking beggars. Even honor guards could show compassion. Shouted thanks followed after.
I recognized people of several nations, Zhous with their feathers and scanty clothing, Jinns riding mules, bells chiming from bridles. The Jinn women veiled their faces with silk, and their colorful robes hung past their mounts’ dusty sides. Fierce warriors from Sabathia, bristling with weapons, grim faces painted with red and black lines, rode their small shaggy horses past, giving us the once-over as they streamed past. I had faced many Sabathians over the years; their penchant for quarreling always seemed to land them in Federal prisons, where they faced execution in the arena.
So the wars for Federal supremacy within the city, I thought, waged on. People streamed away from the capital and the looting and the fighting, preferring to return to their own countries or provinces and begin anew. Perhaps they hoped to get a start on the road and stay the night in some tavern or inn along the road, anxious to put Soudan behind them. I noticed merchants’ caravans had twice as many guards as they usually did. The guards themselves eyed us, fondling sword hilts until we trotted past. Mercenaries by the score rode both directions, galloping or trotting past us, their expressions fierce and intent. A few royal troops patrolled the Federal highway, but they paid us little heed, passing by with sca
rcely a glance in our direction.
As we neared the city gates, the traffic grew thicker, forcing us from a brisk trot to a walk. We closed in closer to Ly’Tana, following behind a long trade caravan. The mercenary guards at the rear shot us concerned glances, then later ignored our presence as harmless. None of us dared speak, for fear of our words behind overheard by the many people in carts, wagons, or on horseback or afoot around us. I kept my own sword loose in its sheath, should someone recognize either Ly’Tana or me. The sun set behind the mountains, blue in the hazy distance, making people curse the delay and push forward. The gates closed at sunset, and any caught outside had to wait until morning to get in.
A band of five Federal Royal Guard in their white and gold uniforms, heads enveloped in turbans, galloped from the gates toward us, at first appearing to pass us as the many before them had done. Instead, the leader raised his fist to those behind him, signaling a halt, and reining his horse to a sliding stop. He effectively blocked Ly’Tana’s path. The foot and animal traffic divided and went around us, still intent on the city gates.
I cursed silently, my hand sliding toward my sword hilt. I saw Kel’Ratan’s hand hovering over his own. Rygel did not move, nor did Ly’Tana. Only then did I notice the Royal Guard, with the trappings of a commander, had the slanted eyes and dark skin similar to Ly’Tana’s. While he had no feathers in his hair, a long white feather dangled from his chestnut’s mane. A Zhou.
I relaxed a fraction when the Zhou dismounted his horse and knelt in the dust of the road.
“Most Holy,” he intoned, bowing until his head hit the dirt. “I beg your blessing, and seek the holy word of She Walks Amid the Clouds.”
Ly’Tana stiffened. I knew she had no clue what the Osimi priestesses would say to bless the man. If she did not give the correct response, the commander might get suspicious, and investigate. If we did not pass the investigation, as we would not, things would soon get very ugly. My tension returned tenfold.
In the silence as the guard bowed his head into the dust, waiting for his blessing, I saw Rygel bend down over his black’s shoulder, running his hand down the foreleg. A guard taking the opportunity to examine his mount, concerned that his horse might be lame. From the side of his mouth, I heard him murmur.
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