by Thomas Locke
43
Dusk was gathering beneath a sullen sky when they left the healer. They lit oil lanterns supplied by Karsten’s staff. The mages kept their wands well hidden and walked with swords clanking awkwardly from their belts. Alembord led them through winding streets, urging them to move swiftly, pressured by the coming curfew. The streets were mostly empty now. The only sounds of their passage came from boots scraping across cobblestones and the chair’s constant creaking.
Alembord halted when a square watchtower rose above the last line of rooftops. “Here stands the farthest tower in this direction that remains flat to the wall. The next is where the ramparts make a sharp turn to the right. Each tower from then on is built into another corner.”
Connell asked, “You know this how?”
Alembord pointed to his left, where the wall and rooftops began a gradual climb up a modest slope. “The count I served, his city residence was three towers farther along. Lovely view over the harbor from the top floors. That’s how the city identifies the outlying districts, as each tower is numbered.”
Edlyn said to Dally, “Tell us again what we seek. Everything you remember. The smallest detail.”
Most of it she had said twice before. But Dally did not mind the repetition. “This is the only image I’ve had more than once. It’s come three times. I stand before a tower rising from the city wall. The wall itself runs straight and true in both directions. As soon as the tower appears, I am filled with a sense of . . .”
“Rightness, perhaps,” Edlyn suggested.
“More than that.” Dally searched for the word and settled on, “Achievement. It is a triumph to be where I am. I know the tower plays some vital role in our gaining the prize. What that is, why it is important, I have no idea.”
“Don’t worry about what you can’t explain,” Connell said. “Give us the image and let us work through it together.”
Dally liked his words almost as much as she did his smile. “The tower also is vital to our escape from the city.”
“That I do not understand,” Alembord said. “There are only three portals through the wall. And none of them open anywhere near a watchtower.”
“I did not see how we left the city,” Dally replied. “But in my images I stood before the tower twice. Once before we obtained the vial. Then again before we left the city.”
“Maybe one tower has a secret hatch leading to the outside,” Connell said.
“The city is known to be impregnable. No way in or out.” Alembord pointed down a narrow lane to where the city wall gleamed umber in the waning daylight. “Port Royal is not as old as Emporis or Alyss. But it was built in the same epoch. Those stones are bound in place by magic that has defied the ages.”
“Just the same,” Dally quietly insisted, “that is what I saw.”
Edlyn said, “Then we will discover the means when we find the tower. Go on, lass.”
“The wall to either side is flat and straight. No curve, as you describe. And no hill. I had the distinct impression that I stood with the city’s main gates to my right.”
“That gives us five towers, each five hundred paces apart,” Alembord said. “We should—”
“One thing more,” Dally said. “I heard a sound.”
“You didn’t mention that before,” Edlyn said.
“I only heard it the last time the image appeared. And only for an instant. Now it seems as though it might have been why the image repeated itself. So I could hear that sound.”
Connell asked, “What did you hear?”
Dally made a rushing sound between clenched teeth.
“Wind, perhaps,” Alembord said.
“No. Of that I am certain.” She pointed at the cobblestones. “It came from below. And when I heard it, the earth trembled. Like it was afraid of what was about to happen.”
44
They took a series of residential lanes that ran parallel to the city wall. Alembord assured them they would attract far less attention by not walking directly alongside Port Royal’s first line of defense. The next tower they passed was clearly defined against the growing dusk. They walked down an alley to where Dally had a clear view. She studied it and remained silent. To speak at all risked giving voice to her fears that she would miss whatever signal she had been intended to pick up on. Finally she shook her head, and they went on.
The wind gradually picked up, moaning through each side lane and carrying a damp, salty fragrance. Dally worried that the noise would keep her from hearing anything that might rise from beneath the stones. Her doubts magnified as they passed the second tower.
The ancient stone bastions were set precisely five hundred paces apart. As they approached the third, a blustery shower blew in from the sea, pelting them with a stinging rain. Dally bundled farther into the heavy oilskin cloak, drawing it over her head. But she dropped it down again because it muffled all sound.
Then . . .
“Stop,” Dally ordered. “This is the one.”
There was nothing to distinguish that particular tower. The same watch fires glinted off the guards’ helmets. The parapet gleamed like a wet stone cauldron.
Alembord pointed to a pair of troopers patrolling the wall to their right. “We can’t stay here.”
Edlyn said, “Myron, you and everyone else, step into the nearest side lane. No, Connell, you need to stay. Dally, can you stand?”
She was already rising. “Yes.”
“Take her chair. Go. Hurry.” When it was just the four of them, Edlyn said, “Go on, lass. Take your time.”
“Time is what we don’t have,” Alembord fretted.
“Hush now. Go on, Dally.”
Connell hovered close enough for Dally to feel his breath upon the back of her neck. But he did not touch her. She took a step, listened. Nothing. Another step. Edlyn drew Alembord farther away from the tower, over to where they were partly blocked from view by a residence’s front portico. Dally continued to walk slowly, a wavy path that took her ever closer to the tower. She heard the soldiers’ soft voices from far overhead. Which was remarkable. She would have thought her heart was thundering far too hard to hear anything.
Then she sensed it. “Here.”
Connell stepped closer still, his body tense against her side. They stood like that, locked in silence, listening with every portion of their beings. Then he wheeled about, hissed, and motioned.
Edlyn and Alembord slipped forward. Almost instantly, Edlyn murmured, “Oh my, yes.”
Alembord asked, “You hear something?”
“I do indeed.” She gripped the captain’s arm and drew him closer. “Don’t listen with your ears. With your boots.”
“I don’t . . .”
They clustered there in a tight group for a pair of excited breaths. Dally could smell the smoke drifting down from the watch fire. She heard the scrape of troopers’ boots upon the stones overhead. There was the clank of metal, a weapon scraping upon the wall. None of it mattered. Not even the strain and fatigue she could see on these three faces. They had moved so fast, pushed so hard. So they could stand clutched together as a single unit. Here. In a storm-drenched city street, a few moments before the nightly curfew, listening to something that rushed and whispered softly beneath their feet.
Dally did not know what it meant. Nor at that moment did it matter. Simply having this affirmation of her image granted her an instant of genuine hope. That her life had a new meaning. That she was right to put these good people in such peril. That she had been correct to do as the image had shown, and send a banker away from his family residence. That there was indeed a chance, however slight, that they might strike a blow against a foe who had robbed her of home and family and life.
Edlyn whispered, “You hear it.”
“Yes, but . . .” Alembord bent over as if seeking to hear what could not be heard. Only felt. “You know what that is?”
“Oh, without question.” She pulled at his sleeve. “Let’s join the others.”
Together they moved over to where they were blocked from view. Alembord asked, “Is it really so important?”
“It’s more than that,” Edlyn replied. She pointed back across the empty rain-swept avenue. “That is a sign we might all survive tomorrow.”
45
They hurried away from the tower. The young mages took turns pushing Dally’s chair. Connell and Myron and Edlyn and Alembord walked several paces ahead, driven by the pending curfew.
They moved at scarcely less than a trot. Dally’s vision shook from their rattling pace across the cobblestones. But she could see the four officers clearly enough to know they were making plans. Because of what they had just discovered. Because of Dally. And a dragon none had seen, save her. They trusted her with their lives. And, truth be told, with the realm’s future. The prospect of what was to come left her both thrilled and terrified. Even so, as long as she kept her gaze fastened upon the four striding ahead of her, she knew a faint shred of hope.
They angled slightly away from the banker’s house. One of the young mages muttered a question but was hissed to silence by his mates. Alembord kept to the side streets now. The wind picked up momentarily, blowing in a fitful squall, and she tasted the sea on her wet lips. They scurried into a tight alley and halted when the inner keep rose directly across the intersection.
Alembord said to Dally, “Tell us again what you saw in your dream.”
She had assumed that was the purpose behind their detour. “It wasn’t a dream. It was another . . .”
“Event,” Edlyn supplied. “That is how the ancient scrolls describe what the far-seers report. Events that change history.”
“I was shown a windowless chamber,” Dally said. “The biggest room I have ever seen. Filled with every manner of treasure. Chests of gold and jewels both.”
“Then our objective can only be one place.” Alembord pointed across the street to where the inner wall rose as high as a man-made cliff. “Directly opposite us is the royal treasury.”
Connell asked, “You have been there?”
“Twice, but only so far as the entrance. After the new king was crowned, the fief holders were required to bring their gifts here. It was intended as a humiliation, one of many. The king was not even present. Some lackey made a recording of what was offered and who brought it.”
Edlyn asked, “What did you see?”
“Just as Dally described. A vast, windowless hall filled with treasure. And other chambers opening to either side.” He shook his head, a sharp jerk that cleared away the rain. “What a waste.”
Edlyn asked, “Lass, was there anything else?”
“The vial holding Joelle’s breath was on a shelf.”
Alembord demanded sharply, “You’re certain that was what you saw?”
“I am.” Dally felt pushed away by the strength of Alembord’s wrath. “Why does that anger you?”
“Because,” Edlyn replied, “it means the evil one has taken control of the realm’s wealth.”
Connell said, “Describe the vial again.”
“The size of my hand, perhaps a bit longer.” She held up her first two fingers. “As narrow as this. It looked to be solid gold, but I can’t be certain of that.”
“Purified gold has a unique ability to contain a magical force,” Edlyn said.
“There was writing on both sides, in a tongue I did not recognize. Nor did it matter. I knew what it was the instant I saw it.” She paused in case they wanted to question her certainty. But when they remained silent, she went on. “The vial was supported by a thin circular frame, like a crown. The frame was made of gold wire set with emeralds.”
“That sounds distinctive enough,” Connell said.
Alembord gave another angry jerk of his head. “You do not know what you are saying. That front chamber could hide a hundred such vials. A thousand. And there are more chambers besides. We could hunt for years and not find it.”
“I have an idea about that,” Dally said.
Alembord’s next question was cut off by the tolling of many bells around the city. Connell hissed, “The curfew.”
But as they started away, Edlyn jerked to a halt. She ignored Connell’s urging whisper and stepped away from the shadows, into the intersection. There was no one in the broad avenue fronting the wall, not even a sound. But she stood there, ignoring the rain, staring up.
In the light of their lanterns, Dally saw Alembord’s face become so grim he looked almost haggard. “What is it?”
“The locals call this Birdcage Walk,” Alembord said.
Edlyn turned around and murmured, “The rumors are true, then. Of how the new king punishes those who offend him.”
“They are not rumors,” Alembord replied.
Dally felt drawn by equal parts dread and a sudden need to know and understand. She walked over and stood beside Edlyn. And moaned, “No, no, no.”
Cages and nooses were strung from the high ramparts. Dozens of them. More.
Dally sensed the others joining them. She heard several of the younger mages sob. She knew it was not just pain for those suspended overhead. They feared that if they failed tomorrow, this was the best fate they could hope for. Strung up along the inner keep’s rear wall.
But Dally was not frightened. The sight made her angry. Furious, in fact. She said, “This has to be stopped.”
“That,” Alembord said, “was the reason I left my home fief and journeyed to Falmouth Port and joined the count’s forces and swore fealty to the new queen. So that I could return and stand here with you.”
Dally wiped away rain turned hot with her tears.
“Even if we have only half a hope,” Alembord said, “we must give it our all. We must show the enemy that the time is not theirs. Nor the city. Nor the lives within our realm.”
Connell placed his hand upon Alembord’s shoulder. “It is good and right to stand in your company.”
Edlyn cleared her face with both hands. “We must be away.”
46
They took rooms on the manor’s top floor, formerly occupied by the now-departed servants. The ceiling slanted where the roof descended, and the windows were tiny. All four wolfhounds were settled in a separate bedchamber. Dally would have preferred to keep them with her, but there simply was not room. As it was, she and Edlyn could only pass one another by turning sideways.
Dally endured another dose of the dragon’s elixir, bathed, and was brushing her hair when Edlyn emerged from the bath. Dally stood before a tall chest of drawers, watching her reflection in an age-spotted mirror. All the room’s furniture held a rough-hewn quality. The beds were narrow, the carpets threadbare. But the room was spotless and smelled of recent cleaning.
Dally had seldom seen her reflection, and never for very long. Her hair when freshly washed tended to spring out in every direction, so a vigorous brushing was required. There was a reassuring normalcy to be found in the action. Her mouth still held the pungent flavor of her latest dose. She was tired, yes, but she knew her strength was returning. And tonight she was especially glad for the chance to stand there and study herself. She disliked the taut skin over her cheeks and the feverish glint to her gaze. But they suited the moment. She felt both calm and frantic. She looked famished, which she was in a way, but not for food. She desperately wanted to lie down and rest, enjoy a languor that might last for days, even weeks. But it was not going to happen. Instead, she faced the prospect of another short night, and then . . .
Dally gasped and jerked back. The mirror no longer showed her reflection.
Edlyn demanded, “What is it?”
Dally heard Bryna’s voice, though the Ashanta Seer’s lips did not move. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
Edlyn asked, “Yes, what?”
Dally gripped Edlyn’s robe and drew her over to where she could see the mirror’s surface. The older woman echoed Dally’s indrawn breath.
“Good,” Bryna said. “I have been contacted by our friend. Wait there.”
They stood there together. Two faces full of anxious expectation. Finding strength in the company of a trusted friend.
Waiting.
When Bryna returned, she glanced at Edlyn and asked Dally, “Can she hear me?”
“No.”
“Greet the Mistress for me. Tell her I wish I was standing beside you both.”
When Dally relayed Bryna’s words, Edlyn replied, “You are precisely where you need to be just now. As close as you are permitted to approach. For the moment, that is enough.”
Bryna smiled her gratitude and asked, “Can you find two more mirrors?”
They rushed down the hall, pounding on doors, and returned as swiftly as possible. Connell was with them now, and Myron and Alembord. They gaped at the woman watching them from the right-hand mirror.
Alembord demanded, “What—”
“Silence, all of you,” Edlyn commanded. “Dally, can she hear me?”
“I can,” Bryna replied. “These are all trusted allies?”
“Our lives and futures depend upon one another,” Dally assured her.
“Very well. Let us begin.” She vanished for a moment.
When she returned, Jaffar’s familiar scowl filled the second frame. “What nonsense is this?”
“It is nothing of the sort, and you know it,” Dally replied. “It is good to see you.”
“I suppose if I must have my sleep disturbed, it’s not altogether bad to be woken by a beautiful young lady.” He waited, then demanded, “Aren’t you going to tell the others what I said?”
“Certainly not.” To the room she said, “This is Jaffar. He is—”
“Mayor of the hidden desert enclave called Olom,” Alembord said. “A renegade Elf. A desert caravan merchant. And a scoundrel.”
“I heard that,” Jaffar said. “Greet the rogue for me.”
When Dally passed on the message, Alembord replied, “I wish you were standing here beside me. We could use your eye and blade both.”
