The Hidden City

by David Eddings

  ‘Inside, my dear ones,’ Sarabian said, thrusting his savage women toward the door while he slashed at the empty air over the fallen assassins. ‘I’ll cover your backs.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Liatris murmured to Elysoun and Gahennas. ‘He’s such a baby.’

  ‘Yes, Liatris,’ Elysoun replied, wrapping one arm affectionately about her ugly Tegan sister, ‘but he’s ours.’

  ‘Kring’s coming,’ Khalad said quietly, pointing at the shadowy horseman galloping across the bone-littered gravel in the moonlight.

  ‘That’s not a good idea,’ Berit said, frowning. ‘Somebody might be watching.’

  The Domi reached them and reined in sharply ‘Come away!’ he hissed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Berit demanded.

  ‘The Child Goddess says for you to come back to where the others are! The Cyrgai are coming out to kill you.’

  ‘I was wondering how long it was going to take them to decide to try that,’ Khalad said, swinging up into his saddle. ‘Let’s go, Berit.’

  Berit nodded, reaching for Faran’s reins. ‘Is Lord Vanion going to do anything when the Cyrgai come out?’ he asked Kring.

  Kring’s answering grin was wolfish. ‘Friend Ulath has a little surprise for them when they come through the gate,’ he replied.

  Berit looked around. ‘Where is he?’ he asked. ‘I don’t see him.’

  ‘Neither will the Cyrgai – until it’s too late. Let’s get back away from this cliff. We’ll let them see us. They’ve been ordered to kill you, so they’ll come running after us. Friend Ulath has six or eight very hungry Trolls with him, and they’ll be right on top of the Cyrgai when they come out.’

  ‘Did he know where you were?’ Kalten asked tensely as they clung to the wall.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘He knows that I’m somewhere in the city, but there are several ways I could be listening to him. I don’t think he realized just how close I was when he started making threats.’

  ‘Are Berit and Khalad going to be all right?’

  Sparhawk nodded. ‘Aphrael was with me when Zalasta made his little speech. She’s taking care of it.’

  ‘All right, Sparhawk,’ Mirtai called from above them, ‘here comes the rope.’

  The free end of the rope came slithering down out of the dimness above them, and Sparhawk quickly climbed up. ‘How much further?’ he asked quietly when he reached Mirtai’s side.

  ‘About one more climb,’ she replied. ‘Talen’s already up there.’

  ‘He should have waited,’ Sparhawk fumed. ‘I’m going to have to have a talk with that boy.’

  ‘It won’t do any good. Talen likes to take chances. Is Kalten still dragging our equipment behind him? I’d hate to get up there and have to deal with things with my fingernails.’

  ‘He’s hauling it up – stage by stage.’ Sparhawk peered up the wall.

  ‘Why don’t you let me go on ahead this time? Get the others up there as quickly as you can. We’ve still got a lot left to do, and this night won’t last forever.’

  She gestured up the rough stone wall. ‘Feel free,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know if I’ve ever said this,’ he told her, ‘but I’m glad you came along. You’re probably the best soldier I’ve ever known.’

  ‘Don’t get emotional, Sparhawk. It’s embarrassing. Are you going to go up the wall? Or did you want to wait for the sun to come up?’

  He started up, moving carefully. It was to their advantage that the north side of the tower was in shade, but the deep shadows made it necessary to feel for each hand-hold and to carefully probe with his toes for places to put his feet. He concentrated on the climbing and resisted the impulse to lean back to look at the wall above and the sharp line of the edge of the parapet some fifty feet further up.

  ‘What kept you?’ Talen whispered as the big Pandion clambered over the top of the balustrade marking the edge of the parapet.

  ‘I stopped to smell the flowers,’ Sparhawk replied acidly. He looked quickly toward the east and saw the faint light of false dawn outlining the mountains. They had at most one more hour of darkness left. ‘No sentries, I gather?’ he whispered.

  ‘No,’ Talen replied quietly. ‘The Cyrgai evidently feel that they need their sleep.’

  ‘Sparhawk?’ Kalten’s whisper came from below.

  ‘Up here.’

  ‘Take the baggage.’ A coil of rope came unwinding up out of the darkness.

  ‘Give me a hand with this, Talen.’ He leaned over the stone railing. ‘Get clear of it,’ he called down softly to Kalten. ‘We’re going to pull it up.’

  Kalten grunted, and they could hear him moving across the wall to one side. Then Sparhawk and Talen slowly pulled the awkward, bulky bundle up to the top of the tower, being careful not to let it bang against the stones of the wall. Sparhawk quickly retrieved his sword and then fumbled through the mail-shirts, searching for his own.

  Kalten was puffing as he climbed up over the railing. ‘Why did you let me get so badly out of shape, Sparhawk?’ he asked accusingly.

  Sparhawk shrugged. ‘Careless, I guess. Ah, here it is.’ He lifted his own mail-shirt free of the others.

  ‘How can you tell?’ Talen asked curiously. ‘In the dark, I mean?’

  ‘I’ve worn it for over twenty years. Believe me, I recognize it. See how the others are coming.’

  Talen went to the rail and helped Xanetia onto the parapet while Bevier and Mirtai clambered over on their own.

  It took only a couple of minutes for the knights to re-arm themselves. ‘Where did Talen go?’ Kalten whispered, looking around.

  ‘He’s snooping,’ Mirtai replied, settling her sword-belt into place.

  ‘I think it’s called scouting,’ Bevier corrected her.

  She shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

  Then Talen came back. ‘I think I found what we’re looking for,’ he said softly. ‘There’s a small window with a sort of iron grate over it. It’s up high, so I didn’t look in.’

  ‘Is Aphrael coming back?’ Bevier asked. ‘Should we wait for her?’

  Sparhawk shook his head. ‘It’s going to start getting light before long. Aphrael knows what we’re doing. She’s making sure the others are all in place.’

  Talen led them around to the east side of the tower. ‘Up there,’ he whispered, pointing at a small, barred window about ten feet up the side of the rough wall.

  ‘Do any of the windows on the front side have bars?’ Sparhawk asked him.

  ‘No, and they’re bigger and closer to the floor.’

  ‘That’s it then.’ Sparhawk fought back an urge to shout with exultation. ‘Aphrael described that window to me.’

  Kalten squinted up at the iron-grated window high in the wall. ‘Let’s make sure of this before we start to celebrate.’ He braced his hands on the wall and set his feet wide apart. ‘Climb up and take a look, Sparhawk.’

  ‘Right.’ Sparhawk put his hands on his friend’s arms and climbed up his broad back. He set his feet carefully on Kalten’s shoulders and slowly straightened, reaching up to grasp the rusty grating that covered the window. He pulled his face up and peered into the darkness. ‘Ehlana?’ he called softly.

  ‘Sparhawk?’ Her voice was startled.

  ‘Please keep your voice down. Are you all right?’

  ‘I am now. How did you get here?’

  ‘It’s a long story. Is Alean there too?’

  ‘Right here, Prince Sparhawk,’ the girl’s silvery voice replied. ‘Is Kalten with you?’

  ‘I’m standing on his shoulders right now. Can you make a light of any kind?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Ehlana’s voice was stricken.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘They’ve cut off all my hair, Sparhawk!’ she moaned. I don’t want you to look at me!’

  Chapter 32

  Talen dropped back to the parapet from the small window. ‘I can get through it,’ he whispered confidently.

  ‘What ab
out that iron grate?’ Kalten demanded.

  ‘It’s ornamental. It wasn’t very good to begin with, and it’s been there for at least a couple of centuries. It won’t take long to work it loose.’

  ‘Let’s hold off until Xanetia gets back,’ Sparhawk decided. ‘I want to know what we’re up against before we start crashing around.’

  ‘I’m not trying to be offensive,’ Mirtai said softly to Talen, ‘but I don’t see what good it’s going to do us to have you inside the cell when the fighting starts and half a dozen Cyrgai rush into the cell to kill Ehlana and Alean.’

  ‘It’s on accounta the fact that they ain’t a-gonna git in the cell, Dorlin’,’ he said with an outrageous grin. ‘The door’s locked.’

  ‘They’ve got a key.’

  ‘Give me about a half a minute with the lock, and their key won’t fit. They won’t get in; trust me.’

  ‘Are there alternatives?’ Bevier asked.

  ‘Not in the amount of time we’ve got left before it starts getting light,’ Sparhawk replied with a worried glance at the eastern horizon. ‘Kalten, go up and have a look at that grating.’

  ‘Right.’ The blond Pandion climbed up to the small window, took hold of the ancient iron lattice in both hands and started to heave on it. Crumbs and fragments of mortar began to shower down on the rest of them.

  ‘Quietly!’ Mirtai hissed at him.

  ‘It’s already loose,’ he reported in a hoarse whisper. ‘The mortar’s rotten.’ He stopped wrenching at the bars and leaned closer to the window. ‘Ehlana wants to talk to you, Sparhawk,’ he called down softly.

  Sparhawk climbed back up to the window. ‘Yes, love?’ he whispered into the darkness.

  ‘What are you planning, Sparhawk?’ she murmured, her voice so near that it seemed he could almost touch her.

  ‘We’re going to pull the bars loose, and then Talen’s going to crawl through the window. He’ll jam the lock so the people outside can’t get into the cell. Then the rest of us will rush the guards. Is Zalasta out there anywhere?’

  ‘No. He and Ekatas went to the temple. He knows that you’re here, Sparhawk. He sensed you somehow. Santheocles has men searching the city for you right now.’

  ‘I think we’re ahead of them. I don’t believe they realize that we’re already up here.’

  ‘How did you get up here, Sparhawk? All the stairways are guarded.’

  ‘We climbed up the outside of the tower. When do those guards out there start stirring around?’

  ‘When it begins to get light, usually. They cook what passes for food around here in the guardroom. Then a couple of them bring breakfast to Alean and me.’

  ‘Your breakfast might be a little late this morning, love,’ he whispered with a tight grin. ‘I think the cooks might have other things on their minds before long.’

  ‘Be careful, Sparhawk.’

  ‘Of course, my Queen.’

  ‘Sparhawk,’ Mirtai called up softly. ‘Xanetia’s back.’

  ‘I have to run now, dear,’ he whispered into the darkness. ‘We’ll have you out of there shortly. I love you.’

  ‘What a lovely thing to say.’

  Sparhawk quickly climbed back down to the parapet. ‘Welcome back Anarae,’ he greeted Xanetia.

  ‘Thou art in a peculiar humor, Anakha,’ she replied in a slightly puzzled tone.

  ‘I just had a chat with my wife, Anarae,’ he said. ‘That always brightens my day. How many guards will we have to deal with?’

  ‘I do fear me that they number some score or more, Anakha.’

  ‘That could be a problem, Sparhawk,’ Bevier noted. ‘They’re Cyrgai and none too bright, but twenty of them might give us some trouble.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘Aphrael said that there are only three rooms up here – the main room, the cell where Ehlana and Alean are, and the guardroom. Was she right, Anarae?’

  ‘Indeed,’ she replied. ‘The cell and the guardroom are here on this north side. The main room is on the south, overlooking the Temple of Cyrgon. I did glean from the sleepy thought of such Cyrgai who were awake that this ultimate tower is the customary retreat of King Santheocles, for he doth take some pleasure in surveying his domain from the parapet – and above all in receiving the adulation of his subjects in the city below.’

  ‘Stupid,’ Mirtai muttered. ‘Doesn’t he have anything better to do?’

  Xanetia smiled faintly. ‘Much else would be quite beyond him, Atana. His guardsmen, limited though they themselves are, do hold their King’s understanding in low regard. But his wits, or lack thereof, are of little moment. Santheocles is the descendant of the royal house, and his sole function is to wear the crown.’

  ‘A hat-rack could do that,’ Talen noted.

  ‘Truly.’

  ‘Do the guardsmen have any kind of set routine?’ Bevier asked.

  ‘Nay, Sir Knight. They do but hold themselves in readiness to respond to the commands of their King, nothing more. In truth, they are trumpeteers rather than warriors. Their primary duty is to announce with brazen notes to their fellow citizens that Santheocles will appear on the parapet to accept the adulation of the Cyrgai.’

  ‘And they do their waiting in the guardroom?’ sparhawk pressed.

  ‘Save only for the pair who stand guard at the door to thy Queen’s prison and the other pair who bar the stairway which doth lead down into the lower levels of this tower.’

  ‘Can they get into the Queen’s cell from the guardroom?’ Bevier asked intently.

  ‘Nay. There is but one door.’

  ‘And how wide is the doorway between the guardroom and the main room?’

  ‘Wide enough for one man only, Sir Bevier.’

  ‘Kalten and I can hold that one, Sparhawk.’

  ‘Are there any other doors to the guardroom?’ Kalten asked.

  Xanetia shook her head.

  ‘Any large windows?’

  ‘One window only – the mate to this one above us – though it is not barred.’

  ‘That narrows the opposition down to just those four guards in the main room then,’ Kalten said. ‘Bevier and I can keep the rest of them penned in for a week, if we have to.’

  ‘And Sparhawk and I can deal with the ones at the cell door and the top of the stairs,’ Mirtai added.

  ‘Let’s get Talen inside that cell,’ Sparhawk said, looking again toward the east, where a faint lessening of the darkness had begun.

  Kalten scrambled back up the wall to the window and began digging at the mortar with his heavy dagger.

  ‘Slip around and keep watch, Anarae,’ Sparhawk whispered. ‘Let us know if anybody comes up those stairs.’

  She nodded and went on back round the corner of the tower.

  Sparhawk climbed up and attacked the mortar on the left side of the iron lattice while his friend continued to dig at the right. After a few moments Kalten took hold of the rusty iron and pulled. ‘The bottom’s loose,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s get the top.’

  ‘Right.’ The two of them went to the top of the window and began to chip away the mortar there. ‘Be careful when it breaks away,’ Sparhawk cautioned. ‘We don’t want it clanging down on that parapet.’

  ‘This side’s free,’ Kalten whispered. ‘I’ll hold it while you dig your side loose.’ He reached inside, found a secure hand-hold with his right hand, and grasped the grating with his left.

  Sparhawk dug harder, sending a shower of chunks and dust to the parapet below. ‘I think that’s got it,’ he whispered.

  ‘We’ll see.’ Kalten’s shoulders heaved and there was a grinding sound as the ancient grate tore loose from the wall. Then, with the same movement, Sparhawk’s burly friend hurled the heavy obstruction out beyond the balustrade.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Sparhawk choked.

  ‘Getting rid of it.’

  ‘Do you know how much noise that thing’s going to make when it hits the ground?’

  ‘So what? It’s five hundred feet down. Let it m
ake all the noise it wants to. If some Cyrgai or Cynesgan slave-driver’s standing under it, he’s in for a nasty surprise, though. But we can live with that, can’t we?’

  Sparhawk pushed his head through the now unobstructed opening. ‘Ehlana?’ he whispered. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Where else would I be, Sparhawk?’

  ‘Sorry. Stupid question, I suppose. The bars are out of the way now. We’re sending Talen in. Shout or something as soon as he gets the lock jammed so that the guards can’t get through the door.’

  ‘Get out of the way, Sparhawk,’ Talen said abruptly from just below. I can’t get in there with you filling up the whole window.’

  Sparhawk swung himself clear of the opening, and the agile boy began to wriggle his way through. Suddenly he stopped. ‘It’s not working,’ he muttered. ‘Pull me back out.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Kalten demanded.

  ‘Just pull me back out, Kalten. I don’t have time to explain.’

  Sparhawk’s heart sank as he and Kalten hauled the young thief back.

  ‘Hold on for a minute.’ Talen turned until he was on his side, and then he extended his arms until they were stretched out above his head. ‘All right then, push.’

  ‘You’ll just get stuck again,’ Kalten objected.

  ‘Then you’ll have to shove harder. This is what comes of all that wholesome food, exercise, and clean living you keep pushing on me, Sparhawk. I’ve grown so much that I can’t get my shoulders through.’ He began to wriggle through the opening again. ‘Push, gentlemen!’ he instructed.

  The two of them pushed their hands against the soles of his feet.

  ‘Harder!’ he grunted.

  ‘You’ll tear all your skin off,’ Kalten warned.

  ‘I’m young. I heal fast. Push!’

  The two shoved at his feet, and, with a great deal of squirming and a few muttered oaths, he was through.