by Aaron Pogue
“This is no joke—”
“And this is not a council,” Corin snapped. “You have my order. Tie them up and leave them here, then bring the men to camp.”
“Bring?”
Corin grinned. “I’m borrowing your camel. See you at the cliffside.”
The captain swung up into the high saddle and nodded to the great sea of his men outside the frail circle of slavers. He threw a mocking salute to Razeen, avoided Blake’s glare, and grabbed Iryana’s reins. Then he led her from the watching crowd, between the dunes, and off toward the sunset.
They went a while in silence, but Iryana made no effort to escape. She came easily along, her strange, dark eyes cutting into the back of Corin’s neck. At last, almost irritated, he asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“A time is coming soon when you will wish that man were dead.”
Corin glanced back and shrugged. “He is just a slaver’s guard. And I will leave these sands behind—”
“I do not mean Razeen,” she said softly. “I mean the man you left in charge.”
“Blake? Ha! He is no threat.”
“He hates you.”
“With all his black little heart,” Corin said.
“You know this, and still you leave him so much power?”
Corin shared a secret smile. “He alone among all my crew is wholly and utterly predictable.”
“Even though he hates you?”
“Because he hates me…and still he follows me. That should tell you much about his ambitions. But perhaps your people are not so complicated.”
She favored him with a smirk. “Or we are not so simple.”
Corin laughed, bright and clear. “Oh, there is nothing simple about me. As for Blake…aye, I’ll give you that. But I know the shape of his schemes.”
She reined up hard and rounded on Corin, her dark eyes flashing. “You do not know as many secrets as you claim, and I know more than you’d believe. I can see the treachery draped across that man like Aeshmir silks, and it drips with the blood of clever men.”
“I am not without my bloody rags,” Corin said.
“You are clean as sand-polished bone against his stain. You are shifting shades and interwoven tones, but there is a beauty and a harmony in your madness. He is just one shade and just one tone.”
“Iryana—”
“No.” She spoke over him. “Hear my words and understand. He drips with dark ambition, and you stand in his way.”
Corin licked his lips and forced another smile. “I hear you,” he said, with unaccustomed gravity. “And I tell you true, I know full well the treachery that reigns over that man’s heart. I will not underestimate him.”
She tore her gaze away, but not before he saw the sadness in her eyes. “There is not treachery enough within your heart to truly understand a man like him.”
“Oh, Iryana.” He took her fingertips in his hands and waited until she turned to him again. Then he grinned at her with a new confidence. “Soothe your pretty heart. I am bad enough to handle Ethan Blake.”
She smiled through a sheen of tears, and Corin reached up to brush away her hair. “Gods’ blood, I’m downright wicked. Now come! Let’s desecrate a tomb.”
CHAPTER THREE
The pirates’ camp was not too far from the spot where the slavers had made their temporary market. It huddled in the precious shade of a deep, narrow chasm wind-carved from the sandstone cliffs. Jagged walls soared high above a path barely wide enough for a cart. The path rose gradually as it went, twisting for more than a mile before it reached another stretch of trackless desert.
At the canyon’s nearer mouth stood makeshift tents and wooden wagons and heavy water barrels crafted of lumber from far-off places. Everything within this camp was out of place among the shifting sands, but none more so than the shiny bronze cannons mounted on two carts, both aimed back toward the open dunes. They were the surest reason Corin feared no retribution.
But Corin’s thought was not on them now. He didn’t even slow as he led Iryana past the cannons and through the silent camp.
“Your tents are empty,” Iryana said.
“I did not want a fight.”
“It would have been easier to hide behind your cannons. But you brought every sword at your command to the slavers’ market?”
“If there’s one thing we do well, it is ambush. The unsuspecting make such easy prey.”
She considered him in silence just long enough to make him wonder at her thoughts. Then she smiled and said, “You needed me.”
He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I came for you.”
“Did you find it, then?”
Corin nodded, his eyes fixed on the towering cliff wall to their left. Iryana’s gaze raced on ahead, searching not the high walls, but the uneven, twisting footpath. What she sought was some way up the slope, but she spotted it soon enough. The pirate crew had cleared a pit from the valley’s sandy floor. Corin heard her gasp.“Godlanders should not come here!” she said. “This place remembers what you’ve done.”
“This place is only sand and stone,” Corin said. “And, with any luck, some relics worth a huge amount of gold.”
“Your people care for nothing else.”
Corin glanced at her. He shrugged. “My crew, at least. They have not enjoyed the hospitality of your sands. But when the door is opened—”
She shook her head frantically. “This is no place for you. The shadows remember your people’s sins. The fires will consume you, the soot will choke your lungs, and you will leave here empty-handed.”
“All except the last, perhaps.”
“This is no joke! You are always laughing, but Jezeeli is a place of grief. It is a memory of loss, and nothing more.”
Corin held her gaze for a moment. “I mean no disrespect to you or yours, but this is my life’s work. It is my destiny to find the lost city.”
She snorted. “You have been searching for three years.”
“Three long years!”
“Using a map you stole.”
“Stealing is my other life’s work. You must admit I do it well.”
She shook her head. “I owe you my liberty. I’ll grant you that. And you were not a cruel captor even when you dragged me from my own people’s tents. But I will not assist you in this plot.”
“I do need you, Iryana. You said it before, and you were right. My men tire of the burning sands, and if I don’t show them some reward soon, I’ll have far more to fear than just Ethan Blake’s ambition. I’ll be the first captain to face a mutiny a hundred miles from the sea.”
“Then leave! Take them to the sea and steal Godlander treasures as you’ve always done. Forget this place.”
“I can’t,” Corin said. “Perhaps a month ago, but now we have spent too long on this adventure. We must uncover the lost city.”
“Why? Why is it so important to steal a memory better left forgotten?”
“Because I am not the only one who’s searching. Rich men, powerful men, and tyrants all are searching for this place. I will not let them have the glory.”
“You mean the gold?”
“I mean the glory.”
She sniffed in open disdain. “Is your name not grand enough for you?”
“I care little for my name, but theirs is far too grand. They already own the histories of my nation. I would prefer to rob them of the chance of robbing yours.”
Iryana shrugged. “You bear a strange kind of generosity. You’ll rob this memory to prevent other men from doing so. You rescue me from a slaver’s block so that I can be your slave.”
Corin suppressed his first response and shrugged instead. “Wicked as I am, I make a better steward of precious things than the men whom I oppose. But if you chafe so much at my authority, I set you free. Turn and run. Now. If I end in chains, you will not much enjoy the hospitality of the ones who take my place.”
“I have known little enough of hospitality in my time,” she said. “I will find my own
way free.”
“Please,” he said, serious at last. “Don’t underestimate what they could do.”
She cocked her head and stared at him with a crooked smile. “I just said these things to you.”
“But I am their captain.”
“And I am just a slave. Why do you care so much for my destiny?”
“I learned to sail from a man who’d fled his chains,” Corin said. “But more than that, I grew up in the streets of rich Ithale. I have seen the sins of my people. I come from a land that would make slaves of all men, and that has borne in me a certain sympathy for those who suffer.”
“Such nobility from a thief!”
“It isn’t hard. The only ones with anything to steal are those who own the chains.”
Iryana narrowed her eyes. “On the sea, perhaps. But here? All you take from here will be the memories of these wretched tribes.”
“As I said before, I’m only here to challenge those who will come after.”
“It isn’t easy to believe. A thousand years your people have not disturbed this place. Perhaps you learned some secret, but why should I suspect there would be others?”
“I could offer you their names. I found the map that led me here on some nobleman’s spoiled son. I learned the secrets of this place in the library at Rikkeborh. Trust my word, the Godlanders were coming to this place. I merely won the race.”
“So many answers,” she said. “And never hesitation.”
“It is the one thing I cannot afford.”
She shook her head and met his eyes. “Then tell me this: What will you do if I refuse?”
“I’ll ask again.”
She laughed, but there was bitterness in it. “Ethan Blake would have me beaten.”
“Ethan Blake would slit your throat,” Corin said. “He has no love for slaves at all.”
“Then he would leave here empty-handed. There is no way to enter Jezeeli without my aid, so—”
Corin shook his head, cutting her off. Then, without saying a word, he extended one arm back the way they’d come, pointing at the huge bronze cannons.
Iryana gasped. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“He would,” Corin said, a touch of sadness in his voice. “And I would, too, to keep that treasure out of the hands of some greedy lord.”
“You would fire on the forgotten city?”
“I would blast a way through solid stone and pray it didn’t do too much damage to the treasure buried on the other side.”
“It is not a treasure hoard. It is a sacred place.”
“Then let me in. Open the way for me, show me a chamber full of sadness and regret, and we will leave this place forever. Refuse, and you can see how much destructive power those things hold.”
Corin watched a tear spill down her dusky cheek, but in the end she nodded.
“Good.” He breathed a sigh and took her arm. “I’m glad to hear it’s settled. Because unless I miss my guess, the boys are back.”
Corin turned again, looking past the cannons this time. The horizon beyond the valley’s mouth was now a rolling cloud of dust, and beneath that backdrop marched an army of weary pirates. Ethan Blake came along at their head, and he looked angry.
Corin shook his head. “And I do not want Blake to have to use the cannon.”
“Beware that man,” Iryana whispered.
“Get to your tent.”
“I thought you needed me.”
Corin glanced her way. She looked prepared to go to battle. Her jaw was clenched, her hands in fists, and there was murder in her eyes. Corin sighed.
“Wait for me at your tent,” he said. “I’ll need you soon enough. But there is still some work to do.”
She hesitated, still intent on arguing, but Corin turned away to watch Blake’s approach. Still she lingered for a moment, but then she surrendered with a huff and Corin felt a small relief as he heard her footsteps receding across the sand.
He’d risked too much, rescuing her. And he had won no great victory in compelling her to open the gate for him. But she’d become entangled in this plot, and she was his responsibility. He couldn’t leave her to the traders, and he certainly couldn’t leave her to Blake’s care. Even if it had to be against her wishes, he’d see her safely on the other side of this affair, and likely with a fortune to pass on to her granddaughters. All he had left to do was end this strange adventure.
But as Corin watched the furious approach of his first mate, he remembered Iryana’s warnings concerning the man. Blake was pompous, reckless, and ruthless. Corin had no love for his first mate, but there were those among his crew—among any pirate crew, even Old Grim’s—who spoke no other language than violence. It had been useful to keep Ethan Blake around to manage those.
But like a gale-force wind, Blake’s power could prove difficult to harness. The only respect Corin had ever won from the man had come from shows of power. Perhaps taking the camel had been a step too far, but the card had been played. Corin didn’t dare back down. Not against so cutthroat an opponent. The only way forward was to raise the ante. The captain met his first mate’s glare, unconcerned, and when Blake finally stormed to a stop before him, Corin frowned. “You look tired.”
“I am tired, Captain. All the men are tired.” He glanced over his shoulder. “How long will you make us toil in this senseless pursuit?”
Corin kept his gaze locked with Blake’s, but he raised his voice. “Not much longer. Not at all. But right now, you all have important work to do!”
Corin’s deckhands obeyed the order, murmuring their assent as they flowed past Corin and Blake toward the pit they’d carved from the valley’s floor.
“Strange reward for victors returning from battle,” Blake said.
“It was not meant to be a battle,” Corin said. “Just a minor skirmish. How much blood was spilled?”
“Not enough. Not near enough. You should have let us kill them all. And then, after depriving us that natural right, after miles of trek across the open desert, you send us all straight back to our labor?”
“We all want to be finished with this business, Blake. We are so close. There may be grumbling—and rightly so—but they are good hands.”
“If you’re so anxious to be done, why waste a day of work to steal one rebellious slave back from the sheiks?”
“I have told you before, we need her magic—”
“There is no magic among these people and plenty in the cannons.”
Corin shook his head. “Some tasks require a more delicate hand.”
Blake sighed and shook his head. “Those are not the right tasks for pirates. Everything about this venture is wrong. We should return to the ships. I’m not the only one saying it.”
Corin nodded toward the men. “They will serve me for a while yet. Sand or sea, they’re all hard workers.”
“They’re ready to be out of here,” Blake snapped back. “I am, too, if it comes to that.”
Corin didn’t meet his eyes. “Are you sure of that, Blake? Are you in such a hurry to get back to the ship?” The first mate was already nodding, but Corin went on. “Back to my ship?”
That stopped him. The mouth worked, but Blake made no words. A cruel smile tugged at Corin’s lips, but after a moment he relented and climbed to his feet. “You’ll have your own command soon enough.” He clapped his first mate on the back. “That’s why you followed me a hundred miles from the shore, right?”
“I followed you because you’re my captain,” Blake said hurriedly.
Corin’s mouth twitched with the same dark smile. “Of course.”
He shaded his eyes and looked across the narrow valley to the far wall, where his men worked industriously at the base of the sun-seared cliffs. The huge carved figures of men and gods looked down on them, patiently watching while a hundred lawless sailors dug a path through years of rubble. There had to be a door beneath it all. There had to be.
Just then he heard the shout. He saw the excited face of a messenger hurr
ying their way, and a smile split his face.
“Iryana!” he called toward the girl’s tent. “I need you now!” As soon as he heard her grumbling approach, he clapped his first mate on the back. “Now! Let’s see if we can find enough gold so you won’t have to tell those lies anymore.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Across the narrow valley floor, a towering cliff face glowed almost golden in the desert sun. The soft stone was carved with nearly human figures that towered hundreds of paces high. Iryana grumbled disapproval as she caught up with Corin beneath the timeworn faces’ demanding gazes.
The air felt hot as a blacksmith’s forge, but Corin did his best to ignore it as he hurried ahead of his first mate across the narrow valley. There a path had been dug into the settled sand and stone of the valley’s floor, and Corin followed the path down until the loose walls of excavated earth loomed on either side.
Then suddenly the wall on his right opened out onto a wide pit, taller than a man and nearly forty paces across as it crawled along the base of the huge cliffs. The air might have been cooler here, trapped in a little box of shade, but it was crowded with the stink of men at work.
Corin saw Blake’s lip curl at the smell. The pirate captain shook his head. An end of their arduous journey, and the man could still object to the stench. Corin sighed and fixed his eyes on the sandstone doors now revealed at the far end of the excavation. Thrice as tall as a man, they curled in a wide, pointed arch that looked more like an ironwork gate than a door into a mountainside.
That thought dragged his eyes back left, along the wide strip of rock his men had needlessly unearthed. The same pattern marked the stone all the way down and plunged behind the soft earth embankment to the left—not a gateway here, but a barred wall, a huge iron gate etched in solid stone. And it was not the crude work of ancients, as it should have been. It looked light and delicate, almost living, like the finest masterwork outside one of the great houses in rich Ithale. Corin chewed his lip as he considered it. So many mysteries, even after all these years of searching. Excitement burned within him at the thought of all the answers he might find behind these timeworn cliffs.
