All hands not directly involved with the flying of the ship gazed in wide-eyed wonder at this enchanted realm. There must be water in abundance, was almost everyone’s first thought. The ground was covered with lush vegetation, tall trees with green leaves dotted a landscape of rolling hills. Here and there, tall pearl spires stood against the sky; broad roads crisscrossed the valleys and vanished over the ridges.
Sinistrad flew before them, the quicksilver dragon streaking like a comet across the sun-drenched sky, making the graceful dragonship seem lumbering and clumsy by comparison. They followed his lead, and ahead of them, on the horizon, a cluster of spires appeared. Sinistrad aimed the dragon’s head toward this location, and as the elven ship drew nearer, all on board saw it was a gigantic city.
Hugh had once, during his days as a slave, visited the capital city of Aristagon, of which the elves were very justly proud. The beauty of its buildings, which are made of coralite molded into artistic shapes by skilled elven craftsmen, are legendary. But the jewels of Tribus were common paste and glass when compared to the wondrous city that lay glistening before them—a handful of pearls scattered over green velvet with an occasional ruby or sapphire or diamond set among them.
A silence of profound awe, almost reverence, filled the elven ship. No one spoke, as if fearful of disturbing a lovely dream. Hugh had been taught by the Kir monks that beauty is ephemeral and all man’s work will come to naught but dust in the end. He’d seen nothing yet in his lifetime to convince him otherwise, but now he began to think maybe he’d been wrong. Tears ran down Limbeck’s cheeks; he was constantly forced to remove his spectacles and wipe them off so that he could see. Alfred appeared to forget whatever inner torment he was suffering and gazed out on the city with a face softened by what one might almost call melancholy.
As for Haplo, if he was impressed, he didn’t show it, other than evincing a mild interest as he stared with the rest of them out the porthole.
But then, Hugh thought, scrutinizing the man carefully, that face of his never shows anything—fear, elation, worry, happiness, anger. And yet, if one looked carefully, there were traces, almost like scars, of emotions that had cut deep. The man’s will alone had smoothed them out; almost, but not quite, erased them. No wonder he makes me want to keep putting my hand to my sword. I think I’d almost prefer an avowed enemy at my side than Haplo as a friend.
Sitting at Haplo’s feet, gazing about with more interest than its master evinced, the dog suddenly ducked its head and gnawed at its flank, apparently driven to search out an elusive itch.
The elven ship entered the city. It drifted low over wide, flower-lined boulevards that wound among tall buildings. What these buildings were made of was anyone’s guess. Smooth and sleek, they seemed to be created out of pearls—those gems that are sometimes found among the coralite and are rare and precious as drops of water. The elves sucked in their breaths and glanced at each other out of the corners of their almond eyes. A cornerstone of pearl alone would give them more wealth than their king himself possessed. Hugh, rubbing his hands, felt his spirits lift. If he got out of here alive, his fortune was made.
Dropping lower, they could see, beneath the vessel, upturned faces stare at them curiously as they passed. The streets were crowded; the city’s population must number in the thousands, Hugh reckoned. Sinistrad guided the ship to a huge central park and indicated, by hand signals, that here they were to drop anchor. A crowd of wizards had gathered here, gazing at them curiously. Though none of the magi had ever seen a mechanical contraption such as this, they were quick to catch hold of the guy ropes tossed over the side by the elves and fasten them to trees. Captain Bothar’el caused the ship’s wings to fold in almost completely, so that only a small bit of magic kept the vessel afloat.
Hugh and his companions were brought to the bridge and arrived there the same moment as Sinistrad and Bane appeared, seeming to step out of the air. The mysteriarch bowed respectfully to the captain.
“I trust your trip was not unduly difficult? Your ship sustained no damage from the ice?”
“Little, thank you,” replied Captain Bothar’el, bowing in turn. “What damage we sustained we will be able to repair.”
“My people and I will be most happy to furnish you with material: wood, rope—”
“Thank you, that will not be necessary. We are accustomed to making do with what we have.” It was obvious that the beauty of this realm and all its wealth had not blinded Bothar’el’s eyes. He was in alien lands, among an enemy race. Hugh was growing to like this elf. There was, he could see, no need to warn Bothar’el of his danger.
Sinistrad did not seem offended. Smiling a rictus smile, he said he hoped the crew would disembark and take in the pleasures of their city. Several of his people would come aboard and keep an eye on the slaves.
“Thank you. I, myself, and some of my officers may later be pleased to accept your invitation. As for now, we have work to do. And I would not want to burden you with responsibility for our slaves.”
Sinistrad, it seemed, might have raised an eyebrow had he had one. As it was, the lines in his forehead lifted slightly, but he said nothing, merely bowed again in acquiescence, the smile deepening and darkening. “I could make this ship mine in five seconds, if I wanted it,” said the smile.
Captain Bothar’el bowed, and he, too, smiled.
Sinistrad’s gaze slid over Hugh, Limbeck, and Alfred. It seemed they lingered for some time on Haplo, and the slight crease of a thoughtful frown appeared between the eyes. Haplo returned the inspection with his quiet, unassuming expression, and the frown line disappeared.
“You will have no objection, I hope, sir, to my taking these passengers of yours to meet my wife and to stay as guests in my house? We are most beholden to them for saving the life of our only child.”
Captain Bothar’el was replied that he was certain his passengers would enjoy escaping the dull routine of shipboard life. Hugh, reading between the words, figured that the elf was glad to be rid of them. The hatch opened, a rope ladder was thrown out. Sinistrad and Bane left the bridge in their usual airy style; the others descended via the ladder. Hugh was the last one to leave the ship. Standing in the hatchway, watching the others slowly and clumsily make their way down, he was startled by a light touch on his arm.
Turning, he looked into the eyes of the elf captain.
“Yes,” said Bothar’el, “I know what he wants. I’ll do my best to make certain he doesn’t get it. If you come back with money, we’ll get you out of here. We’ll wait for you as long as we can hold out.” The elf’s mouth twisted. “I expect to be paid as promised—one way or the other.”
A cry and thud from below announced that Alfred, as usual, had come to grief. Hugh said nothing. There was nothing to say. All was understood. He began to climb down the ladder. The others were on the ground already, Haplo and Limbeck tending a prone and unconscious Alfred. Standing next to Haplo, licking Alfred’s face, was the dog, and it occurred to Hugh to wonder, as he descended, how the animal or its master had managed such a remarkable feat. Hugh had never heard of a four-legged animal being able to climb down a rope ladder. But when he asked the others, no one seemed to have noticed.
A group of twenty mysteriarchs—ten men and ten women—was on hand to welcome them. Sinistrad introduced them as mystagogues, teachers of the arcane and the ruling body of the city. They appeared to be of varying ages, though none were as young as Sinistrad. One couple looked to be ancient, their faces wizened masses of wrinkles nearly hiding eyes that were shrewd and intelligent and held in them knowledge amassed over who knew how many years. The others were in mid-life, with firm, unlined faces, hair thick and richly colored with only a few strands of silver or gray at the temples. They were pleasant and polite, welcoming visitors to their fair city, offering all in their power to make the stay memorable.
Memorable. Hugh had a feeling it would be that, at least. Walking among the wizards, hearing introductions, he looked into eyes that
never looked into his, saw faces that might have been carved of the pearl substance around them, devoid of any expression other than polite and proper welcome. His sense of danger and unease grew and was made manifest by a peculiar incident.
“I was wondering, my friends, if you would care to walk about our city and view its wonders. My own dwelling is some distance away, and you may not have another opportunity to see much of New Hope before you have to leave.”
All agreed and, having ascertained that Alfred was not injured—beyond a bump on the head—they followed Sinistrad through the park. Crowds of wizards gathered on the grass or sat beneath the trees to stare at them as they passed. But no one said a word, either to them or to a neighbor. The silence was eerie, and Hugh felt that he much preferred the thumping and banging of the Kicksey-winsey.
Reaching the sidewalk, he and his companions stood among the glittering buildings whose spires soared into the rainbow-shimmering sky. Arched doorways led to cool, shadowy courtyards. Arched windows gave glimpses of fabulous luxuries inside.
“These to your left belong to the college of the arcane, where we teach our young. Across are the dwellings of the students and professors. The very tallest building that you can see from here is the seat of government, where sit the members of the council, whom you have just met. Ah, I must warn you of one thing.” Sinistrad, who had been walking with one hand resting lovingly on the shoulder of his son, turned around to face them.
“The material used in our buildings is made magically and therefore is not … How shall I put it so that you will understand? Let us say: it is not of this world. And so it would be a good idea if you, being of the world, did not touch it. Ah, there, what did I say?”
Limbeck, ever curious, had reached out his hand to run his fingers over the smooth, pearly stone. There was a sizzle, and the Geg yelped in pain and snatched back burned fingers.
“He doesn’t understand your language,” said Alfred with a rebuking glance at the wizard.
“Then I suggest that one of you translate,” returned Sinistrad. “The next time, it might cost him his life.”
Limbeck stared in awe at the buildings, sucking on the tips of his hurt fingers. Alfred imparted the warning to the Geg in a low voice and they continued on down the street, new wonders continually unfolding before their eyes. The sidewalks were massed with people, coming and going on their business, and all staring at them curiously and in silence.
Alfred and Limbeck kept pace with Bane and Sinistrad. Hugh was doing the same until he noticed Haplo lagging behind, walking slowly to assist his dog, which had suddenly developed a limp in one foot. Hugh, answering a silent request, paused to wait for them. They were a long time coming—the dog was in obvious discomfort—and the others drew well ahead. Haplo stopped and knelt down beside the animal, seemingly absorbed in its injury. Hugh joined him.
“Well, what’s the matter with the mutt?”
“Nothing, really. I wanted to show you something. Reach out and touch that wall behind me.”
“Are you crazy? You want to see me burn my fingers off?”
“Go ahead,” said Haplo with his quiet smile. The dog was grinning at Hugh as if sharing a wonderful secret. “You won’t get hurt.”
Feeling very much like a boy who can’t resist a dare though he knows he’ll only end up in trouble, Hugh gingerly stretched out his hand toward the pearl-glistening wall. He cringed in expected pain when his fingers touched the surface, but he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing! His fingers went completely through the stone! The building was solid as a cloud.
“What the … ?”
“Illusion,” said Haplo. He patted the dog on the flank. “Come on, the wizard’s looking at us. Thorn in its paw,” he called out to Sinistrad. “I removed it. The dog’ll be all right now.”
Sinistrad regarded them with narrow-eyed suspicion, perhaps wondering where the dog had managed to pick up a thorn in the middle of the city. He continued on, however, though it seemed that his speech about the wonders of New Hope was a bit forced, the descriptions delivered somewhat bitingly.
Hugh, mystified, nudged Haplo. “Why?”
Haplo shrugged. “There’s something else, too,” he said in a low voice, the words coming out of the corner of his mouth so that, if Sinistrad glanced back, they would not seem to be talking. “Take a close look at all these people around us.”
“They’re a quiet bunch. I can say that for them.”
“Look at them. Closely.”
Hugh did as he was told. “There is something strange about them,” he admitted. “They look …” He paused. “Familiar?”
“Yeah. Familiar. Like I’ve seen them somewhere before. But that’s not possible.”
“Yes, it is. If you’re seeing the same twenty people over and over.”
At that moment, almost as if he had overheard, Sinistrad brought the tour to an abrupt halt.
“It is time we traveled on to my humble dwelling,” he said. “My wife will be waiting.”
CHAPTER 49
CASTLE SINISTER, HIGH REALM
THE QUICKSILVER DRAGON CARRIED THEM TO SINISTRAD’S DWELLING. They did not travel far. The castle seemed to float on a cloud, and commanded, whenever the mists parted, a view of the city of New Hope that was spectacular, breathtaking, and—to Hugh’s mind—disturbing. The buildings, the people—nothing but a dream. If so, whose? And why were they being invited—no, forced—to share it?
Hugh’s first action on entering the castle was to take a surreptitious poke at the wall. He noted Haplo doing the same, and both exchanged glances. The castle, at least, was solid. This was real.
And the woman descending the stairs … was she real?
“Ah, there you are, my dear. I thought you would be out front, waiting impatiently to greet your son.”
The castle’s entry hall was enormous, its dominating feature a grand staircase whose marble steps were so wide that a war dragon could have flown up it, wings fully extended, and never touched the sides. The interior walls were made of the same smooth, pearlized opal as the outer, and shimmered in the sunlight shining softly through the shifting mists surrounding the castle. Tapestries of rich and wondrous beauty adorned the walls. Rare and valuable articles of furniture—massive wooden chests, richly carved high-backed chairs—line the hallway. Ancient suits of human armor made of precious metals, inlaid with silver and gold, stood silent guard. The stairs were covered with a thick, smooth carpet made of woven wool.
Halfway down the stairs, dwarfed by their massive size, they could see—once Sinistrad had drawn their attention to her—a woman. She stood frozen, staring at her child. Bane kept very near Sinistrad, the boy’s small hand clinging tightly to the wizard’s. The woman put her hand to a locket she wore at her throat and clasped her fingers round it. With her other, she leaned heavily against the balustrades. She had not stopped on the stair to make a grand entrance, to draw all eyes to her. She had stopped, Hugh saw, because she could go no farther.
Hugh had wondered, briefly, what kind of woman Bane’s mother was. What kind of woman would participate in a baby-switching. He had thought he knew, and would not have been surprised to see someone as treacherous and ambitious as the father. Now, seeing her, he realized she was not a perpetrator but a victim.
“My dear, have you taken root?” Sinistrad appeared displeased. “Why don’t you speak? Our guests—”
The woman was going to fall, and without pausing to think, Hugh ran up the stairs and caught the slumping body in his arms.
“So that’s mother,” said Bane.
“Yes, my son,” remarked Sinistrad. “Gentlemen, my wife, Iridal.” He waved a negligent hand at her motionless body. “I must apologize for her. She is weak, very weak. And now, sirs, if you will follow me, I will show you to your quarters. I am certain you will want to rest after your fatiguing journey.”
“What about her—your wife?” Hugh demanded. He smelled the fragrance of crushed and faded lavender.
“Take
her to her room,” said Sinistrad, glancing at her without interest. “It’s at the top of the stairs, along the balcony, second door to the left.”
“Should I call a servant to care for her?”
“We have no servants. I find them … disruptive. She must care for herself. As must you all, I’m afraid.”
Without looking to see if their guests were following, Sinistrad and Bane turned to the right and walked through a door that appeared, seemingly by the wizard’s command, in a blank wall. The others did not immediately go after him—Haplo was idly looking around, Alfred was apparently torn between following his prince and attending to the poor woman in Hugh’s arms, Limbeck looked with frightened round eyes at the door that had materialized out of solid rock and kept rubbing his ears, perhaps longing for a whoosh, zuzt, wham to break the oppressive silence.
“I suggest you follow me, gentlemen. You will never find your way alone. There are but few fixed rooms in this castle. The rest come and go as we need them. I deplore waste, you see.”
The others, somewhat startled by this pronouncement, made their way through the door, Limbeck holding back until Alfred gently propelled him forward. Hugh wondered where the dog was, then, looking down, saw the animal at his feet.
“Get along!” Hugh snapped, shoving at the dog with a boot.
The animal dodged him neatly and remained standing on the stair, watching him with interest, head cocked to one side, ears erect.
The woman in Hugh’s arms stirred faintly and moaned. No other assistance from his companions being forthcoming, the assassin turned and carried the woman up the stairs. The climb to the balcony above was long, but the burden he bore was light, far too light.
He carried her to her room, finding it without difficulty by the half-open door and the faint smell of the same sweet fragrance that clung to her. Inside was a sitting room, beyond that a dressing room, and beyond that her bedchamber. Passing through the various rooms, Hugh was surprised to see that they were almost devoid of furnishings, there were few decorations, and those that were visible were covered with dust. The atmosphere of these inner, private chambers was chill and barren. Far different from the warm luxury of the entry hall.
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