by Allan Cole
As I looked out at the hills and myriad fires, the problem looked enormous. Where could it be? Which way should we search first?
Then the mist enveloped us and all vanished from view.
I got out Emilie's cup of magical dust and, shaking it like a baker shaking flour, coiled the white powder along the ground in the shape of a snake. I made the head a bit broader than the body.
Then I unwrapped the silver splinter I'd kept from my ship. I kissed it, whispered an apology, and pierced the snake's head to make an eye.
I held my golden etherhand over the snake head and chanted:
"Fang and venom.
Venom and song.
The Lyre Bird sings
And the serpent stings
But serpent and bird are one.
Sister find your nest.
Brother find your mate.
Fang and venom.
Venom and song."
The Emiliedust snake stirred on the ground, white powdery scales sparkling all along its sides. Then the silver eye glowed into life and I heard Derlina gasp as the sparkling head suddenly lifted up. It weaved back and forth, inches above the ground, its single eye probing the mist, its glittering ether-tongue flickering to taste the air.
Then it caught Novari's scent and froze, tongue flicking in and out. Slowly it rose higher, still facing the same direction, coming up until one-third of its glowing white body was off the ground.
"Get ready," I warned the others.
'Too friggin' right!" came Pip's blurted whisper.
As if his blurt were a signal, the ethersnake shot forward, slithering through an astonished Pip's legs and disappearing around a boulder.
"Let's go," I hissed, and we all hurried after the small hunter.
It took me a few minutes to get some control over the snake, making it move slowly enough so we could maintain a safe pace or stop and hide if we encountered the enemy. At any other time it might've been an amusing chase. The glittering little creature would pause on mental command, then turn and impatiently bob its head up and down at me, flicking out that silvery tongue in protest at the delay. Much like Emilie herself, I suspected, when she got caught up in play.
The scent of the Lyre Bird's nest drew the ethersnake along misty trails that wound past hills and crept through gullies. The deeper we went into»the enemy's stronghold, the more times we had to dive for cover—flattening ourselves on the ground as soldiers wandered past, calling greetings to some and cursing others under their breaths. Then a breeze stirred the air, clearing the mist, and it became easier to follow the spectral hunter. But it also became easier to be discovered, so our progress remained painfully slow.
Finally we came to a low hill, wide and round as a dome. A road heavily rutted by cartwheels intersected with the hill and climbed its face to the top. At the base was a ramshackle tent camp. Men moved about the tents and campfires. Some wore uniforms and carried weapons. Some wore rugged workman's costumes with heavy boots and belts to carry hammers and hand axes. All were groaning and stretching and cracking joints as if they'd just ended many hours of hard work. A few oxcarts loaded with materials were being driven up the hill, and I could hear the thud of hammers and the screech of worked metal echoing from the top.
The ethersnake had gone very still, staring at the hilltop with its silver eye. Only its tongue moved, flickering eagerly as it tasted Novari's spoor.
The place we sought was on top of that hill.
I got out the cup and slipped up to the snake. It turned its head, eye glittering, tongue flicking, as if it were saying, "See there? That wasn't so hard?" Then it sagged down, weary, and collapsed into dust.
I swept the dust up and returned it to the cup. I wrapped the silver splinter that'd been its eye in a scrap of silk and slipped it into my boot.
We hid in a water channel just off the road and studied the work camp and hill for a long time, looking for a way up. Quatervals and Derlina slipped off in opposite directions to examine the ground while Pip and I waited, silent and cold.
They returned together. Smiles and hand signals were exchanged. There was a ravine, they said, on the opposite side. It cut right to the top and would cover our movements all the way.
As we prepared to move out, the sky lit up over Galana. Another flare. Time was getting short.
We kept to the water channel all the way around the hill. The ravine dumped into it and we had to wade through rushing, knee-deep water for the first leg. Then the water became a smaller but still swiftly moving stream running down the ravine's center. We kept to the sides and mostly stayed dry. Except for knuckles and knees skinned on the rocks, the going became easier. Then the ravine flattened and the stream became a slower trickle, and then stream and ravine both disappeared and we were climbing a short cliff face, moving quickly with Quatervals at the lead, showing us the many handholds in its weather-pocked surface.
Light and sound battered us when we cleared the top. The tight seemed to come from a thousand torches and firebeads, and our ears rang with the racket of heavy construction.
We were all momentarily dazed and a second too slow rinding cover.
Just as I hit the ground I heard a soldier bark alarm. A heavy weight struck me between the shoulders, knocking out my breath. But I forced myself up, reaching blindly with my golden hand. I grabbed cloth, but it was torn away and I stumbled around to find the enemy. I saw Quatervals grappling with a soldier with a ripped cloak.
There was a loud crack as the man's neck snapped and he sagged, dead.
Another soldier loomed up behind Quatervals, but a small shadow launched itself from a boulder. It was Pip, knife in hand, soaring like a deadly bird. He caught the soldier about the head and carried them both to the ground. His knife flashed and the soldier went still.
Then I heard running footsteps and turned to see another soldier racing away from us, heading for the lights and sound.
Derlina bounded over Pip and his victim, drawing her axe. She paused, hauled back—her form practice-field perfect— and hurled the axe after the fleeing soldier.
It struck him in the back and he went down, the axe sticking up from his spine.
And then it was over and we were all panting and trembling with after-battle shock. To our amazement, the entire violent incident had gone unnoticed.
Relieved, but wondering if we'd just used up all our luck, we gathered up the three bodies and dumped them over the cliff. Then we found dice and money on the ground. The soldiers had obviously been relaxing with a little private game when we'd stumbled into them.
Pip threw the dice over the cliff with the bodies. "Wouldn't wish them unlucky bones on me own worst enemy," he said later.
Then we crept toward the brightest lights and loudest sounds, making very sure we didn't come on another group of such unfortunates.
The last flare floated up over Galana just as we were moving into the shelter of a large supply tent. It'd taken us too long. Time was up.
I looked at my friends. Derlina shook her head, a firm no. Quatervals hesitated, then agreed. Pip pumped his hand up and down, signaling, "Let's keep going!"
And so we ignored the flare and bur hammering hearts and slipped around the side of the tent, keeping well within its deep shadow.
Light glared out at us from across open ground.
And there, towering over a swarm of workmen and knots of guards, was Novari's secret weapon in the making.
It was a huge lyre sitting on a wide, stone base. Scaffolding was flung up on both sides of the metal structure. Men were working on all the levels, using pulleys to haul up pieces from the wagons below, hammering them into place or filing and cutting to make the fit easier. Forges had been set up on each level, and smithies in aprons toiled at their bellows.
I could see the sprocket holes where the strings would fit when it was done. I wondered what song Novari would play on such giant cables. And I wondered how she would play it.
Then the breeze quickened and somewhere far
off lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.
I suddenly knew the answer.
I signaled to the others.
And we turned and raced back the way we had come.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Lyre Bird Sings
THE RETURN WAS bloodless and quick.
Palmeras made a second spectral attack and once again locked with Kato and his magical horde. We raced home with the battle raging overhead, encountering no one on the way. The gates were in sight when the diversion ended, and when we trotted through, a ragged chorus of cheers greeted our arrival.
Emilie broke away from her guards and leaped into my arms, covering me with kisses and tears.
"I was so afraid, Aunt Rali," she said. "I thought Novari might catch you. Ana"—And—she'd have gotten everyone in my family. Everybody'd be deaded, then. And I'd have no one left."
I stroked her hair, saying, 'There, there," and "everything will be all right, dear," and other such nonsense adults spew when they try to soothe a child.
She clutched me, saying, "There's going to be more, Aunt Rali! Isn't there?"
"Yes, Emilie dear," I said. "Novari's not done with us yet."
THERE WAS NO time to rest. Torvol and Weene took Emilie away and I hastened to wash myself and change, hoping water and soap and a clean costume would help me fool the demons of weariness.
I sprinkled on a little perfume to fool them more, but instead the soft fragrance made me think of satin pillows and silken sheets. I thought of Salimar sleeping in our tomb, auburn hair all spread out and inviting. Sadness dripped slowly into a hollow place deep within me. I was not likely to touch that hair again. The realization brought a lump of self-pity to my throat.
I wept a little. Then dried my tears and erased their stain. As I did so, a plan began to form.
WE MET IN Quatervals' sparse chambers. It was military neat—everything that might be quickly needed was close at hand, and everything that wouldn't was stored in a few big trunks that he'd put in the center and covered with a cloth to make a table. My friends, displaying various degrees of exhaustion, were slumped in camp chairs set about the table.
Palmeras was pale with fatigue, but his yellow wizard eyes glowed with satisfaction at the successful diversions. Derlina's long legs were sprawled out before her and she was clutching a cup of strong brandy to her chest. Quatervals was helping Pip dress a small wound he'd received in the fight with the unlucky soldiers.
I gratefully accepted a full brandy cup and sagged into a chair next to Palmeras.
I waved the cup at him in a tired toast. "The Lord Gamelan himself couldn't have staged better diversions," I said. "They must have given Kato an awful fright."
Palmeras nodded, pleased with himself—as he'd every right to be.
"Kato's pro'ly still scratchin' his noggin," Pip said, "tryin' to figger what it was all about."
"I can only pray," Palmeras said, "that Novari is his equal in confusion." He drank, then said, "They told me about the great lyre you saw. I don't know its purpose, but it's plain that we must destroy it at once."
"There isn't a chance of that," I said. "So put it from your mind. Just because a few of us got so close doesn't mean a force of any size could do the same. This lyre machine is too important to her. She'll be prepared for anything we can throw at her."
"So the machine, if that's what it is, shouldn't concern us, my dear Antero?" Palmeras said.
"Just the opposite," I said. "Once Novari gives that lyre life, I doubt if there's any force we can mount that will stand in her way."
I told them about the storm that'd caught me at Antero Bay more than fifty years before. How the Lyre Bird had used the natural force of that storm to crush all magical life, and the mortal force of the Ice Bear King's legions to crush all else.
"That's what she's planning to do now," I said. "But on an even grander scale."
I told them about the approaching winter storm—the first of the season—that Emilie had shown me.
"It's less than two weeks away," I said. "Novari will know that. And she'll be ready. I saw her workers rolling thick wires out of the wagons this very night. The lyre will be strung and ready by the time that storm hits.
"When the winds blow, Novari's great lyre will begin to play. And as the force of the storm increases, so will her spell."
I remembered the punishment I'd taken at Antero Bay, thanks to Novari. Without experiencing it, no Evocator, not even Palmeras, could imagine the intensity of the assault. And this time I knew it'd be worse.
"Soon as the storm ends," I said, "she'll command Kato to attack full-force. Although, there's likely to be so few of us left that it probably won't require much more than a mop-up operation.
"Her greatest concern will be Emilie. She'll want her alive. And unhurt."
Quatervals nodded. 'Then Director Kato himself," he said, "will probably command that mission. Their soldiers are too raw to be trusted with anything but the most basic orders."
"Kill everything in sight, most likely," Derlina muttered. Then she said, "To hells with Novari! To hells with her blasted machine! To hells with all of them! Let's go fight, dammit! Fight her now before she has a chance to gain the ground."
"That's exactly what I intend," I said. "But I want you to know, before we start that in order to defeat the Lyre Bird... "... first we have to lose."
IT WAS A mad plan. A plan of last resort. No one agreed easily. And I don't think anyone ever really accepted it as the only way. But there was no time to think of anything else. Derlina, as expected, was the hardest to convince. In the end I had to use her own words against her.
"You told me yourself," I said, "that you knew in your guts that it would all come down to do-or-die. 'One big toss of the dice,' you said. 'And shit on the gods that made us!' "
Finally, it was agreed. There would be an all-out assault. Pip would rush back to Cheapside. He'd organize and command a general uprising. The uprising would be timed with attacks by us on Kato's troops surrounding Galana. We'd put everything we had into it
Derlina ground her teeth. "And then we let the bitch win!"
"Yes," I said. "Then we let the bitch win. Like the dinksman lets his Cheapside mark win the first few rounds. Until the mark's coaxed into risking all."
Derlina grimaced. "As long as you're certain," she said, "that Novari ends up playing the mark instead of us."
I told her I was quite certain.
The lie came to my tongue much too easily for comfort.
ALL KNOW OF the great deeds that followed.
All know of Pip's daring ride to Orissa, hurtling along the highway with a squad of Maranon Guardswomen, overcoming all who tried to stop them. It took them two days, pausing only to change horses at friendly stables and pass the word of the impending battle.
Once in Orissa, the King of Thieves roused his knaves, and the villains of Cheapside poured out of the sewers to confront the masters of Orissa.
All know how Queenie and the brutes of the Thugs' Guild went on a rampage of assassinations, killing key officers and city leaders.
And how Pearl and the whores of the Harlots' Guild helped them in that awful work, using their seductive wiles to spring doors that'd kept the assassins at bay.
The knaves fought furiously, sometimes in small surprise attacks out of alleys and sewer openings. And sometimes hand-to-hand. Force against force.
The pickpockets lost able leaders when Palmer and Lammer died in a skirmish at the Central Market.
Garla, the handsome chief of the Beggars' Guild, died in an assault on the Palace of Evocators.
These were just a few of the many villains who martyred themselves for Orissa.
And Pip! What a marvel he was. He seemed to be everyplace at once, weaving new strategies, plugging gaps when other leaders fell.
Finally his spark took hold, spreading from Cheapside into the populace itself. The citizens of Orissa at last were fighting back.
In the city, they took to the stre
ets, attacking soldiers with the few arms they had. They added mightily to those stores, however, as they hurled themselves against the troops with wagon spokes and cobblestones and broken pavement.
At the same time, the whole countryside burst into flames as the villagers and farmers joined the battle. Slowly at first, but as our supporters stunned the enemy with the ferocity of their attacks, more and more people rushed in to swell their numbers.
Meanwhile, at Galana we kept Novari's and Kato's largest forces pinned.
To quell the uprising they'd have to defeat us first.
Over and over again the gates of Galana swung open and we charged out to fight We used every tactic to gain the slightest edge against the overwhelming numbers that faced us.
Derlina would lead what appeared to be a suicidal charge against the enemy lines. She and the Guardswomen would fight with berserk fury, driving so deeply into the enemy's mass there was no getting back. Then, when all would seem lost, Quatervals would pounce from the flanks, spearing in to meet her. They'd join, then make an orderly withdrawal, leaving the field strewn with enemy corpses.
Each time our own numbers grew fewer. Until only two-thirds of us stood.
I don't know what saddened me more. The sight of my dead comrades, or the bodies of the enemy in the field. All of whom, as I'd once told Palmeras, bore the faces of Orissans.
That point was driven home most sorely when I accompanied Derlina one night in a cavalry feint on the hilltop where the lyre machine stood. Quatervals had secured a nearby hill. The plan was to strike for the lyre machine, drawing as many enemy as possible into the fray, then to break contact and join Quatervals in a wide, looping assault on their flanks.
My purpose was twofold. First, I had to get Derlina past the alarms so we could get in as close as possible. Secondly, I was to assist Palmeras from the ground while he and the Evocators took on Kato and his wizard army.
As it turned out, the plans came to naught. Instead of surprising the enemy, we sprung his trap.
Suddenly arrows hailed onto us. There were shouts of alarm and pain. Something hot struck me in the side. I grunted, grabbing for it. And my hand came away slippery with blood from the glancing arrow wound. Then the men were swarming out of the darkness on all sides of us, screaming their war cries.