The following day dawned bright and clear again, though bitterly cold. The River Sken flowed on, cutting its way through the steep valleys of the mountain uplands. Rocky outcrops and forest lined the valley sides – there was no fertile grazing land so few people chose to live there. They only passed a handful of isolated woodsmen’s houses with blue smoke twirling up to the sky and they appeared to go unnoticed except for once, when a dog idly wandering along the shore barked furiously at them.
They made good progress and when they stopped to camp that night, Dacha estimated that they had covered more than a hundred miles since they had left. “If tomorrow is the same we will have nearly reached Enzit,” Dacha announced.
They passed an uneventful night but woke to heavy skies and snow. However, the snow, although steady, didn’t hinder them in any way. In fact it added to their sense of cocooning and isolation. They saw no one and at some points she could have believed that they were the only people alive in the Longest World.
But the snow meant that what little light there was had all but gone by mid-afternoon and they were forced to stop and camp earlier than they would have liked. Dacha cursed the spring snow, which had made everything so damp that he struggled to find dry firewood and they only managed a meagre fire. They passed a cold, damp night and woke feeling disgruntled. The day promised to be as miserable weather-wise as the one before.
“Shall we risk an inn in Enzit?” Dacha asked Cass as they set off. “I have silvers.”
The threat of Zirt had receded in her mind and images of baths, feather beds and hot meals danced around her head. “Yes, please,” she said. “How far away are we?”
“I think we should reach there about midday,” Dacha replied.
As they neared Enzit, the foothills of the mountains softened and broadened into hills, and the spell of isolation was broken by the appearance of farms and hamlets, and bridges bisected the river. It was also, Cass noticed, slightly warmer. The snow was starting to melt, revealing patches of dull brown earth. Cass could even see wild icepearl flowers poking up in places. Spring, she thought with a bittersweet jolt, as she considered Nym and Vegna’s plans to invade Metrete.
An hour later they reached the outskirts of Enzit. They spotted the red boathouse easily enough and although there was no one around they left the boats there, along with the camping equipment and a note of thanks. Then, with a feeling of trepidation, they made their way towards the city walls of Enzit.
On the outskirts of the city, just before they entered the walls, they passed the army barracks that Sir Drex had referred to. At the sight of it Dacha let out a low whistle. “That’s enormous. There must be five thousand men in there.”
The sight of it made Cass nervous. “Come on,” she urged. “Let’s get away from it.”
There was no queue to enter the city and the gatekeeper looked at them with interest. “We’re from Iz. We’ve come to see our aunt,” Dacha said, putting on a mountain accent.
“Is that right?” The man looked sly and dishonest, Cass thought, and sure enough he said, “I sometimes have great difficulty believing stories unless I have a few silvers to help them seem more convincing.”
“How many silvers?” Dacha asked.
“I would say ten in your case – each,” he said. It was an astronomical amount of money but Dacha made no objection. He just fished the coins out of his pocket and handed them over to the gatekeeper.
“Good doing business with you,” the man said and nodded them through.
“Shall we head straight to the Street of Sails?” Dacha asked when they were out of earshot.
Cass nodded. “Yes, but if we see anywhere selling food can we get some? I’m starving.”
Dacha laughed. “I agree.”
Enzit had been a beautiful, wealthy and bustling city, blessed in its situation at the head of the Lake of Forgiveness and the intersection of the roads coming from Iz in the north, Minaris in the south and Metrete in the east. Just before Enzit, the River Sken split into a hundred smaller streams, forming a delta, which Enzit had been built on and which gave it its nickname City of a Hundred Bridges. It was also home to a huge number of gold traders who had spent generously on strong city walls, attractive civic buildings and a long, broad lakeside promenade. They had built themselves magnificent mansions and splendid summer houses along the shores of the lake. But all that was in happier times and a very different scene greeted Cass and Rip.
The snow had almost gone from the city but that somehow heightened its depressing appearance. The streets themselves were largely deserted save for a few pitiful, starving cats and some gangs of beggar children. The adults they did see looked to Cass to be heavily enchanted. The windows of many houses were shuttered but Cass felt as if behind them were eyes watching them as they wandered along, hopelessly lost in the maze of claustrophobic, winding alleys and hidden squares, hoping to stumble upon the Street of Sails.
Without warning, the passageway they were in turned a corner and they found themselves on the promenade overlooking the lake. Here there were a few people, mostly crowded around a magician, their faces heavy and stupid.
“Don’t look!” Cass warned Dacha, who was staring at him. “He’s powerful – he has them all in his thrall.”
Dacha blinked and tore his eyes away with some difficulty.
“Come,” said Cass firmly taking his hand. “There’s some food here.”
She led him over to a tatty stall selling some grey-looking vegetable pies.
“These could certainly do with a bit of magic,” she joked.
“I’m so hungry I’ll eat anything,” Dacha said and he gave the woman the exorbitant amount of coins she wanted for a couple of pies.
They ate them sitting on a bench that overlooked the lake, their backs to the magician. It was still frozen enough for a few people to be skating on the ice. Cass took a bite of the pie. It was tasteless and had an unpleasant, grainy texture. “I’m only eating this this because I’m starving,” she announced.
“It’s really pretty disgusting,” Dacha replied cheerfully, shovelling the pie into his mouth.
The watery sun was trying to come out and Cass felt just a touch of warmth in it. She shut her eyes and leaned back against the hard wood of the bench.
“I am going to have to have another one of those revolting pies,” Dacha said, getting up.
“Remember to avoid the magician,” she called after him as she continued to watch the skaters on the ice.
Then, moments later, she heard a voice that chilled her blood. It was a man singing, “Oh, I’m the Queen of Minaris, All the ladies have to curtsy to me…”
Cass spun around to see Zirt, flanked by soldiers, smirking at her.
“Kitten!” he greeted her. Cass could see Dacha behind them and without a moment’s pause, she ran. How she dodged them she would never know but she did, and with Dacha by her side she pelted along the promenade.
Not knowing where they were heading, they randomly took turnings, their only thought to get away from Zirt and his soldiers. But Cass and Dacha were at a great disadvantage, for they had no knowledge of the layout of the city and all its tricks and deceptions. Cass quickly realized that the whole place was enchanted. Twice she had to pull Dacha away from careering down obvious dead ends that would have trapped them instantly, and then he was sure that they should take a left turn which Cass could see would lead them straight back to the soldiers.
“Oh no, they’ve separated,” Cass panted as she glimpsed three soldiers charging across a bridge ahead of them. “And we can’t go back, Zirt is behind us.” She looked around. There was a narrow court through an arch that looked like it led away from both groups. “This way,” she said, yanking Dacha along.
But unfortunately the court led back into a small courtyard where the three soldiers they had seen on the bridge were waiting, swords drawn.
“Got you!” one of them sneered as Cass and Dacha threw their packs on the floor and pulled their swords out of
their sheaths.
The fight began. Two of the three soldiers took on Cass, while Dacha had just one, but he was the best fighter. In fact, they were all good, Cass quickly realized, no doubt hand-picked by Zirt himself. Cass and Dacha fought well but they were making no headway and Cass could feel herself beginning to panic, thinking that Zirt and the other soldiers would be there any moment and then the whole thing would be over.
Focus! she instructed herself but she could feel the fight turning against her and the effort of fending off two blades rather than one defeating her. Then Dacha gave a cry. He was injured but Cass couldn’t see how badly. He was still holding his sword but he was struggling. Cass’s confidence faltered, which was disastrous and one of the soldiers knocked her sword out of her hand, sending it clattering across the courtyard. The two soldiers gave shouts of victory and one held his sword to Cass’s neck as the other joined in the fight against Dacha. He fought bravely but only seconds later he too had his sword on the ground and a blade at his neck.
“Our boss is going to be pleased to see you two,” one of the men said as they pulled ropes out of their pockets to tie Cass and Dacha up.
Then with no warning, a voice from above them cried, “Not so fast!” and a figure jumped down from the roof, landing neatly on the ground in front of them.
The soldiers were so surprised they made the mistake of all turning to face the person, giving Cass and Dacha the opportunity to dive for their dropped swords.
Despite the dark clothes and a mask, Cass recognized the figure instantly and her heart leaped with joy. It was her friend, Idaliz.
Together they made short work of the soldiers.
“Quickly!” Idaliz cried as soon as they were done. “Come now!” she instructed and they followed her down the passageway off the square that the soldiers must have come along. About halfway along she pushed on a solid-looking door. It opened and they all dived inside. Idaliz shut it behind them and pulled the bolts across.
“What were you doing on the roof?” Cass spluttered as soon as they were safely in the hall of the house.
“It’s the best way to get around without being seen. But never mind that, what in the Longest World are you two doing in Enzit?” Idaliz cried, pulling off her mask and hood to reveal her smiling, freckled face and long auburn hair. “Dacha, you should be in Minaris looking after the queen, and Cass, I expected you to be halfway to the Far Isles by now!”
“It’s a long story,” Cass replied, grinning from ear to ear. It was Idaliz! She couldn’t believe their luck. “Why have you not returned to Minaris?”
“I haven’t been able to get back. I—”
At that moment, the street outside was full of shouting and running feet. “Soldiers!” Idaliz whispered. “Come this way!” She led them along a narrow hall and into a room at the back of the house, where a man and a woman were studying a large map spread out on a table.
There was a fierce banging on the front door.
“Masha, Riven, I need to hide these two,” Idaliz murmured. “The soldiers are after them.”
They quickly moved the table and whipped back the carpet, revealing a trapdoor. “Don’t make a sound,” Masha advised as she hustled them down a ladder and into a tiny dark space. The trapdoor was shut and there was the sound of moving furniture, muffled voices and heavy footsteps. Cass focused on trying to slow down her breathing as it was coming in ragged, terrified blasts.
After what seemed like about half an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, they heard the voices and the footsteps recede. After a brief pause, there was more shuffling of furniture and the trapdoor opened. Idaliz’s face appeared.
“They’ve gone,” she said and helped them up and out of the hiding place. “Masha, Riven, these are my friends, Cass and Dacha.”
“It’s good to meet you,” Riven said. He was a tall thin man, with a thoughtful face.
Masha, who Cass took for his wife, said, “You are most welcome. Any friends of Idaliz’s are friends of ours.”
Masha. That was the name that Sir Drex had said! Cass remembered. “I don’t suppose this is Number Seven, Street of Sails, is it?” Cass asked.
Riven and Masha looked at Cass quizzically. “It is,” Masha replied. “Why?”
Cass pulled the letter out of her pocket. “It’s from Sir Drex,” she explained and she handed it to Masha who opened it.
“Have you come from him?” Riven asked, surprised.
“Yes,” Dacha replied. “He gave us shelter when we’d escaped from the Winter Palace.”
“You escaped from the Winter Palace!” Idaliz exclaimed. “Come, you must tell us all.”
“I’ll make some tea,” Riven said. “It sounds like a story that deserves it.”
They all helped rearrange the furniture and then sat around the table. Riven appeared with a large metal teapot and poured them bowls of bitter tea.
“So, Cass, Dacha, let’s hear your story,” Idaliz said.
“You tell it, Cass,” Dacha said. And so she did – she told the entire tale from her first sight of Zirt’s accomplice in the inn at Aravura, to her capture in Oskbar by Nym and her imprisonment in the Winter Palace, and then her rescue by Dacha and their journey down the mountains.
“Do you know,” Dacha said, “of Vegna and Nym’s terrible plans to invade Metrete?”
Masha, Riven and Idaliz all sighed, exchanging glances. “Yes, I’d found that out,” Idaliz replied. “I have been desperately trying to get across to Metrete for the last month or so to warn Taryn and King Hoff but it has proved impossible. Until now,” she added.
“You’re going?” Cass asked, excited. “You’ve found a way?”
“How? Can we come?” Dacha said eagerly.
Idaliz shook her head. “You know I would take you if I could but I’m afraid it’s out of the question.” When she saw their faces fall, she explained. “There’s one cart allowed over the Bundish border every week laden with luxury goods for the palace at Iz. It’s driven by a Veraklian trader and he has agreed, after considerable persuasion, to take me tomorrow, hidden in the small space under his seat. There’s barely room for me, let alone another two people, I’m afraid.”
“Is there anyone else who might take us across?” Dacha asked.
“Not that I know of,” Riven replied. “Getting across the border is almost impossible.”
“Is there really no way?” Cass asked, feeling a great cloud of hopelessness descending upon her.
“You might be best going back to Sir Drex,” Masha said.
The very thought of turning around and trekking back up to the mountains made Cass want to weep with frustration.
“The only other option you could try is the very far south,” Riven said. “It is just possible that with all the troops going to Metrete there will be fewer soldiers on the Minarian border and perhaps you might be able to cross somewhere there.”
Cass thought of what she knew about the southern border of Veraklia with Minaris. The two countries were separated by a geographical phenomenon known as the Cliffs of Refinn, a steep rock face a thousand metres high. The most spectacular part of them was the Razat Falls – an enormous set of waterfalls where all the water from the Lake of Forgiveness tumbled over the edge of the cliffs. Cass had been to see them many years before and the sight of the white water thundering down from the sky had made a great impression on her.
“You are not suggesting we go over the falls in a barrel, are you?” Dacha asked with a nervous laugh. There had been stories in the news sheets of Veraklian refugees desperate to reach Minaris who had done so, often with terrible consequences.
“It might be your only option.” Riven smiled. “But before you do, you should look at the border crossings at Blat and Tarth.” They were the two places where, over thousands of years, rivers had carved narrow valleys that dropped down to the same level as Minaris.
Dacha sighed. “But it’s miles to get down to the south and too dangerous to go along the road.”
“Will the ice hold?” Cass asked. “The ice was melting on the River Sken even up in the mountains.”
“It depends on the weather but the lake ice is always the last to melt because it’s such a large mass of water,” Masha replied.
“And if it does, you can always walk along the shore,” Riven pointed out. “You should be safe enough doing that – the villages there are very isolated. The road and lake only come together at one point at the village of Wyza. If you push yourselves you can probably cover twenty miles a day, in which case it will take you about ten days. I know a woman, Dorcas, who is a seamstress in Balzen, the town at the end of the lake, which is very near the border. She will help you if she can.”
“What do you think?” Dacha asked Cass.
“If the alternative is returning to Sir Drex then I think we should try it,” Cass said.
Dacha nodded, but his expression was unsure.
“I can go alone,” Cass said.
“No,” he said with a resigned smile. “We stick together.” He paused for a minute. “There’s just one problem. We don’t have any skates.”
“We can get you some easily enough,” Riven said. “Food is short, skates are not.”
“Thank you,” Cass replied.
“But the first problem will be getting you out of Enzit,” Riven said.
“I know, I’m sorry. I feel we have brought trouble to your door,” Cass apologized.
Masha smiled and shrugged. “Don’t worry, we are used to trouble. And I have an idea to get you out, although it’s not particularly pleasant.”
Not particularly pleasant was an understatement, Cass thought the following evening as she lay crammed in a coffin on the back of an undertaker’s cart as it rattled through the streets of Enzit towards the city gates.
They had said goodbye to Idaliz at dawn that day, which had been hard for Cass. To be together and then parted again so quickly was very difficult and Cass had to stop herself crying. Dacha and she had then spent the day preparing to leave – assembling more provisions, going through their kit bags and adding certain necessities, all the while expecting Zirt and the soldiers to return.
The Conspiracy of Magic Page 11