I wanted to sleep, but he kept me talking long into the night, asking questions, seeking details. Yes, they made weapons; there were forges and blacksmiths. The tribe was wealthy from selling what they considered to be surplus weapons. Good steel but not as good as we made, clearly.
“I need shleep,” I couldn't help slurring.
“So sleep.”
100
You think you are never going to have to kill when you are tired and drunk?
The words haunted me as I swung wildly, barely able to keep my feet. I'd put my back to a tree to help. Three spears kept probing and seeking a way to my body and I kept them at bay, mostly, taking a shallow wound here and there, arms and legs dripping and stinging. I was vaguely aware of what was happening behind them but they were not. If they had been they would have been running and not trying to get their spears into me. Sapphire had been killing while I had been surviving. The middle of the three collapsed without a sound, his spine severed at the neck; he pitched forward into me, incidentally shielding me from a spear thrust his body turned aside. The one to my left flew back, a spry of blood from his face telling all anyone should want to know about his story. The third had spun and backed a pace. Sapphire, standing exactly in front of me, blade extended in front of him, moved forward a pace, and the barbarian turned and ran. Sapphire threw his sword and reached out for mine, which I surrendered, turning my head and struggling to focus on the Alendi as he staggered back to his feet, his back laid open from shoulder to hip and the sword nowhere in sight. Sapphire went after him and I staggered away from the tree, looking around drunkenly. I counted. Seven, making… I thought about it. Ten. That was right. “Damn, you're good,” I mumbled.
He passed me back my sword without comment and I sheathed it on the third attempt.
“I think the dogs would be better,” I heard him mutter as he went after our horses.
Well I didn't. I'd seen them. Great big slavering monstrosities as big as any dog I could imagine and not the thin lanky type of dog either. I imagined ten of them breaking through the undergrowth and heading our way. Ha! See how well you do against them, tough guy! Bastard. “Sorry.” I didn't think I had been speaking loud enough for him to hear. I shook my head. Damn, I was drunk.
I'd fallen off my horse avoiding the first spear thrust as they burst through the undergrowth. They'd been laying in ambush, like they knew we were coming. I swear Sapphire killed the first one as though he'd been laying in ambush for them. Wasn't sure. Too busy falling off my horse. He'd come back for me though. “Good man, Shapphi,” I muttered to myself as I staggered away from the tree.
“Can you get on?”
He was there with the horses. I shrugged. “No idea. Let's see.”
The drubbing he gave me that night made the other pale into insignificance. I think he may have knocked me out, but I'll never be sure.
101
“I think we are in trouble.”
Sapphire looked at me, then back to the Eyrie. The Eyrie was a stronghold built to be big enough to house the whole Alendi people, and it looked as though they were all there. Smoke hung over it like a cloud, slowly drifting overhead. We'd seen it at dawn, high and slowly dissipating, and followed it all the way here. Twice we had come across groups of barbarians crumpled in heaps, a day or two old. We'd passed the first without comment.
“Looks like the alliance is breaking up,” Sapphire had said after we had skirted the results of a second skirmish.
“They must be losing,” I said. Not that I had ever had any doubt that they would. It was always a matter of when, not if. Even if all the barbarians as far as the kingdom of Rancik in the west and Fortherria in the east rose against us, I would still place a good wager on the outcome. “Turning against each other.”
“Or whatever held them together is gone,”
“Kukran Epthel,” I said.
“It doesn't make a difference to us, not right now.”
“True. I need to get in there and get him out,” I didn't need to say who he was.
“You are not going in.”
“What?”
He dismounted and I slithered down to join him, meeting him at the horses' heads. “Of course I'm going in.”
“The booze has addled your brain, Sumto.” He reached up and tapped my forehead. “How are you planning to hide that? Headscarf?”
Damn. I hadn't given it a moment's thought. Most of the time I don't even remember it's there. I thought about it now. Men don't wear headgear. Not in the north. Not ever. “Bandage.”
He just stared at me.
“You didn't want me to think of that did you?” I accused him.
“No.”
“You think I'm a liability.”
“You are a liability. Stay here. Wait for me.”
“No.”
“Then if there's any fighting, for gods' sake stay out of the way.”
He mounted up and rode on. A little subdued I followed him.
102
The gate to the Eyrie was reached by a long, uphill, switchback road, banked and walled on both sides. The guards on the walls could face into the road and out to any enemy that might threaten it. Either side of the gate two fat towers provided an escape route for those stuck on the long walls should they fall. Each and every soldier on the walls, and they were a mile or more long so there were many, had a bow and I knew from my readings that they had stored a couple of thousand arrows for every bow. Doubtless there were some crossbows as well, though good spring steel is something we make in the city and sell at a price.
We looked like them. Pale hair and pale eyes. We wore their clothes. But just because they are barbarians doesn't make them fools. The gates were opened but we were stopped, along with a steady stream of Alendi making for the Eyrie, men women and children and all they could carry or drag with them.
“What clan?” A guard called to us at the gate.
“Liani,” Sapphire told him so fast he sounded defensive. I guessed he made answer before I could.
“All two of you, eh?” The guard laughed.
I scowled. “Two of us are worth twenty of you, scumbag,” I told him with some authority.
He laughed. “Get on, you're holding everyone else up,” he waved us through and we went.
Inside the gate a vast pasture spread for what seemed like forever. The far wall was invisible. The pasture was filled with cattle, thousands of them. Fences were still being made, hundreds of miles of fences, to make enclosures of varying size depending on the size of the tribe, the size of the herd. Makeshift villages of tents were packed tight everywhere else, they seemed small but there were thousands of people on the move. A city of tent villages spreading out as far as we could see. There were enclosures of horses but far fewer of them. Only the chieftains and their families could traditionally enjoy the luxury of riding. We rode and were conspicuous because of it. We had hardly gone a few dozen yards before we were offered a price for them, drays though they were. We declined and rode on, heading for the center of things, the great stone stronghold that sat in the middle of what I suddenly thought of as a spider's web. It wasn't a comforting thought.
I reached for the bottle and Sapphire frowned as I upended it. “What will you do when you run out?”
“Drink beer.”
“You will have to face them someday.”
I shook my head. “When I have an army around me they can come.”
He made no response and we rode on down a narrow avenue between fenced enclosures. There were fires everywhere, in every camp, and the cattle were restless, noisy. They pushed against the fences here and there but the enclosures looked stout enough to prevent stampede. The wood of them was old and had seen use before. I guessed they were stored in the stronghold and only assembled in times such as these.
“I'd like to get some news,” I said.
He made a random gesture to the sprawling camps. There were thousands of people to ask. Go ahead, he didn't say, go talk to anyone you like, t
hey'll all have news.
“He'll be in the stronghold,” I said.
Sapphire nodded.
“This is madness.”
He turned to look at me. “You only just thought that?”
103
The makeshift villages were largest toward the center of things. In the shadow of the stronghold there was a dense ring of them melding into each other. We sold the horses. We could always steal others if we needed them. I had imagined the Eyrie as I had read of it; a vast empty walled pasture with a sparsely populated stronghold at the middle. What I got was the whole Alendi nation crushed into a couple of square miles. A hundred thousand people or more. Getting him out of the stronghold, which would be equally full, would only be half of it. We could make him disappear for a while amongst so many, maybe, but ultimately we had to get him through the gates and no one was going to be leaving for a while.
We set up our new tents in sight of the gate to the stronghold amongst a hundred others and settled down to watch and think. We took it in turns to look and watch, sitting either side of a small fire, swapping places occasionally. There was a moat about the stronghold and a narrow bridge wide enough for one man to walk across comfortably. It was of wood and could be burned. The gate was small, also. Just a door, really. The stronghold was low and square. I remembered what I had read of the inside. A courtyard, surrounded by forges, and a single building running all around the walls and as high. In essence the walls were the building, peppered with arrow slits. A small army could stand on the roof and repel attackers. I measured one wall's length by eye, making it just under three hundred feet. Guessing the courtyard was half the size that made one hundred and fifty by three hundred twice, or ninety thousand feet, and one hundred and fifty by one hundred and fifty twice, or forty five thousand. One hundred and thirty five thousand square feet. Well, let's say it takes three feet square for a man to stand and fight, that would give enough room for fifteen thousand men on the roof. Not that they could all fight of course. That would be…
“Thinking of climbing in?”
“Eh? Oh, no. We would be seen for certain.” I looked back at the bridge. There was a guard detail, four men, passing people on and turning them back in equal measure. Clearly you had to have business inside if you wanted to pass. Most of the men coming out carried bundles of arrows and assorted weapons. Some carried food. What I was trying to get an idea of was what the magic word was. Who was passed and who turned back.
My attention drifted back to the roof. That would be only four hundred men usefully at the wall at any one time. That didn't seem enough out of fifteen thousand. Had I calculated right? Fifteen thousand sounded like a lot. Would the roof hold under their weight?
“My turn,” Sapphire said.
I nodded absently and changed places with him.
104
“Wake up.” A kick in the ribs reinforced the instruction. “Now!”
It was the middle of the night. The air was full of the already familiar sounds of cattle making the noises they make multiplied by thousands and spread out in the night. As I struggled to awaken I could hear the sounds that the dogs made in their sleep, the odd whimper, the occasional sleepy growl. I ignored them. I'd have a drink in a minute. I felt about as rough as I ever had and really didn't want to be awake.
“We are going in, or I am.”
I moved. No way he was leaving me alone. I needed this if I were not to be damned to poverty forever, a patron with no influence or money and one ex-slave as a client. A disgraced exile living on charity in a foreign land. It took a while to get up. My whole body was stiff and complained at me and my head throbbed, my stomach threatened to rebel. I could hear the dogs faintly, whimpering and whining in their sleep. Thank god they were asleep. I still needed a drink.
“Now?” I asked blearily.
He pointed. Torches lit the night, a procession of men were crossing the bridge, a throng of them waiting to follow. No one was checking them, no one was passing them. They were going in en masse and were expected. I nodded. Easy to tack on the end and just walk in.
“Now,” I agreed, and we went.
105
Torches lit the scene, the flames reflected in the dark water of the moat, pooling round each torch bearer, dancing on the walls of the stronghold. As the barbarians walked across the bridge in single file the crowd clustered at our side of the bridge was slowly thinning. We tacked ourselves onto the back of the group that waited their turn without incident, and stepped out onto the bridge when it came around to our turn. Ahead of us they passed through the small gate one at a time, torchlight dancing inside and fading, dancing and fading, until it was our turn to pass inside, Sapphire ahead of me and no one behind apart from four bored guards who had eyed us disinterestedly. The bridge was wide enough so that one man could walk without difficulty, but not so wide that two could pass or walk together without risk of being pitched into the dark waters only five feet or so below. I was relieved to make it to the end of the bridge.
A long corridor stretched away from the door, and to either side narrow but tall passages led inside the wall, all lit by torches paced at twenty foot intervals. It must have been fifty or sixty feet away, the doorway where Sheo stood facing us in the broad doorway, watching the new arrivals impassively, our gazes meeting for an instant. He didn't react but I froze for a moment, a thrill of anticipation running through me, before I stepped out of his line of sight. No half-expected shout of alarm followed me. I tried to imagine what he would do, tried to guess what he was thinking; was Kukran Epthel here? Was Sheo still in thrall to him? Would Sheo send men after me? I strode after Sapphire, my heart hammering in my chest, nerves frayed. He had moved silently into one of the side passages and ghosted along the corridor ahead of me, moving fast, passing in and out of light and gloom; and I followed, less assured, head pounding and belly rebelling. Our own shadows danced around us. He turned a corner and I sped after him. Sheo is here, I wanted to yell. He saw me! But yelling didn't seem like a brilliant idea under the circumstances so I hurried to catch him, holding in the fear, aware that Sheo had not instantly raised the alarm, hoping he was free of Kukran's influence, an ally, biding his time, or perhaps that Kukran was destroyed and Sheo here for some other reason. The fear of the unknown was almost worse than the fear that we would be discovered and find ourselves back in the power of the lich. The thought of that made me shudder. Dubaku was not invisibly near to save us. This time we would face Kukran alone.
When I turned the corridor, Sapphire's forearm was locked around the throat of an Alendi, his free arm gripping a wrist to keep that one from reaching his knife. Red faced and eyes bulging the Alendi struggled and failed to break free.
“Where is Tahal Samant?” Sapphire hissed the question fiercely in the man's ear. “Tell me and live, keep silent and die. Where is he?”
“Vaults,” the Alendi squeezed the words through his closed throat, “In the vaults.”
Instantly Sapphire release his grip, hands moving with smooth precision, one hand cupping the Alendi's bearded chin, the other coming to the back of his head. He wrenched fast and hard and a sound like a green branch breaking rang out, echoing dully from the walls. Sapphire caught the man as he fell and dragged him a few yards to the bottom of a stair well and dropping the body. Grabbing the lolling head he smashed it three times in quick succession against the stone floor. Despite myself, I winced, stalled where I had been following. I shuddered at the calm indifference with which Sapphire handled the body and I reached for the bottle. As I downed a good swallow of the fiery liquid, Sapphire briefly examined his handiwork; satisfied he grabbed the man's legs and heaved the body into the stairwell, leaving it looking as though the man had fallen, legs and arms twisted randomly awry.
“Sheo is here. He saw me,” I remembered to say. It was important, though I didn't know what we would do about it.
Shadows danced across Sapphire's face as he looked at me, face calm as stone, cold gaze locked on mine. “We s
plit up,” he told me. “Look for the vaults. If you are captured I'll get you out.”
He snatched the bottle from my hand, poured some grotesquely into the corpse's mouth and ghosted up the stairs. After three steps he dashed the bottle on a stair, discarding it and its contents, and then was gone.
I stared in shock at the broken bottle, glass shards winking in the wavering light and precious liquid dripping on the stairs. He'd broken it. He'd thrown away my whiskey. And it was the last bottle. What had he said? Find the vaults. Right. I looked at the corner round which I had come, then turned away and lurched down the corridor. Easy to say, find the vaults, but what was I going to do? Ask someone? Well, I thought, why not? Barbarians would need to know the way more often than spies and infiltrators, surely?
If only I could remember what clan we were, just in case I was asked.
106
A drunk can get away with anything, I decided. No one expects them to be coherent or sensible. All they saw was a wasted Alendi about some business he was not fit to complete. They smiled in sympathy or snorted in derision, either way not seeing me as a threat.
I'd grabbed a door frame, leaned drunkenly into a room full of men taking their ease, lifted a jug of ale and taken a swig while the owner protested, then asked where the vaults were.
“If you're going to the vaults, you can get your own beer,” one of them told me.
“Under your feet, where do you think?” Another had called, contemptuously.
“Get off my beer,” The nearest had growled.
I nodded sagely, let him have the jug, wiped my mouth with one hand, feeling the beard growing there, and straightened up. “I will,” I said with exaggerated care. Beard, I thought. When had that happened? I couldn't remember the last time I had shaved. How drunk had I been? I'd grown a beard and not noticed. I was looking up and down the corridor, still leaning on the door frame.
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