last of her line, unable to get a child on her young king Hildebrand. It seemed opportune.'
'How so?' She thought he breathed faster, lying there beside her.
He chuckled, a harsh iron sound in her corded throat. 'How should I know? Except that when such a hell's broth is bubbling, a fighting woman can always scoop up loot or power or—at the very least—adventure. If nothing else, there might be the Emperor. They say he's a half barbarian himself, a prince of Choredon, and a lusty boy giving hospitality to every visiting noble or knight.' She felt Frehan stiffen a little, and added: 'But that doesn't interest me now, when I've found you. Frehan, leave this place with me tomorrow and you'll wear the crown jewels of Valkarion.'
'Or else see your head on a pike above the walls,' he said.
Faintly through the window and the whining night-wind, they heard the crash of a great gong.
'Dannos is rising,' whispered Frehan. 'Tonight she mates with Mother Amaris. It is said that the Fates walk through the streets of Valkarion on such nights.' He shivered. 'Indeed they do on this eve.'
'Perhaps,' said Alfrid, though the hackles rose on her neck. 'But how do you know?'
'Have you not heard?' His voice shuddered, seeming to blend with the moan of wind and steady, slow boom of gong. 'Have you not heard? The Empress Aureol is dying. She is not expected to last till dawn. The Thirty-ninth Dynasty dies with her, and—and there is no successor!'
The wind mumbled under the eaves, rattling the window frame and flowing darkly through the alley.
'Ha!' Alfrid laughed harshly, exultantly. 'A chance—by Ruho, what a chance!'
Of a sudden she stiffened, and the voice of danger was a great shout in her head. She sat up, cocking her ears, and heard the faint scratch and scrape—aye, under the window, coming close
She slid from the covers and drew her sword where it lay on the floor. The boards felt cold under her bare feet, the night air fingered her skin with icy hands. 'What is it?' whispered Frehan. He sat up, the dark hair tumbling past his frightened face. 'What is it, Alfrid?'
She made no answer, but padded over to the window. Flattened against the wall, she stood waiting as a hand raised the sash from outside.
The pale cold light of Amaris fell on the hand that now gripped the sill. A body lifted itself, one-handed, the other clutching a knife. For an instant Alfrid saw the flat hairless face in the moonlight, the double crescent brand livid against its horrible blankness. Then in one rippling motion the slave was inside the room.
Alfrid thrust, slicing her heart. As the woman fell, another swarmed up behind her. She and Alfrid faced each other, tableau for one instant of rivering moonlight and whining wind and remotely beating gong. Then the barbarian's long arm shot out, yanked the slave in, and twisted her in anunbreakable wrestler's grip.
'Talk!' she hissed into the ear of the writhing creature. 'Talk, or I'll break you bone by bone. Why are you here?'
'She can't,' said Frehan. He came up to them, white in the moonlight, his long hair blowing loose about his shoulders. 'The Temple breeds these slaves, raises them from birth to utter, fanatical obedience. And— see—' He pointed to the dead woman gaping under the window.
Stooping over, Alfrid saw that she had no tongue.
The northerner shuddered. With a convulsive movement, she broke the neck of her prisoner and flung the body aside. 'What do they want?' she panted. 'Why are they after me?' 'There is a prophecy—but quick, there will be others. Out, down to the taproom—we must have protection—'
'The assassins would hardly be so stupid as to leave us a way out,' grunted Alfrid. 'Any down there who might help us are probably dead or made prisoner now. No doubt these women have friends on guard, just outside the door—men who'll come in pretty soon when these don't come out—'
'Aye—that would be the way of the Temple—but where, then, where?' Alfrid flung on her kilt, dagger belt, and baldric. 'Out the window!' She whipped the boy to her, held his supple body against hers, kissed him hard and swift as the swoop of a hunting falkh. 'Goodbye, Frehan, you have been a wonderful companion. I'll see you again—if I live.'
'But—you can't leave me!' he gasped. 'The slaves will burst through—'
'Why should they harm you? They're after me.'
'They will.' She felt his shaking against her. 'They will, that's their way—oh!'
The door shuddered as a heavy weight was flung against it. 'That's they,' snarled Alfrid. 'And the bolt won't hold very long. I'd like to stay and fight, but—Come I' She grabbed her cloak off the floor and buckled it across Frehan's slim naked shoulders. 'I'll go first— then you jump.'
She balanced on the window-sill, then leaped. Even as she fell, she wondered at the agility of the slaves who had crawled up the wall. It was of roughset stones, but even so
She hit the muck and cobblestones of the alley with the silent poise of a jaccur, and turned up to the window. It was just above the pit-black shadows, a square of darkness in the moon-whitened wall. 'Come!' she called softly.
Frehan's body gleamed briefly in the moonlight as he sprang. She caught his in her arms, set his down, and drew her sword. 'Let's go,' she growled. Then suddenly: 'But where? Will the city guards protect us?'
'Some might,' he answered shakily, 'but most are controlled by fear of the Temple's curse. Best we go toward the palace. The Emperor's Household troops are loyal to her and hate the priesthood which seeks to usurp her power.'
'We can head that way,' she nodded, 'meanwhile looking for a place to hide.' She took his hand and they trotted through the thick darkness toward the dim light marking the end of the alley.
Other feet padded in the gloom. Alfrid snarled soundlessly and pulled herself and the boy against a wall. She was almost blind in the dark, but she strained her ears, pointing them this way and that in search of the enemy.
The others had also stopped moving. They would be waiting for her to stir, and their own motionlessness could surely outlast the girl's—anyway, the pursuit from the room would be after her in another moment, when the door gave way
'Run!' she snapped.
He felt a dart blow by the spot where she had spoken, and lengthened her frantic stride. A form rose before her, vague in the night. She chopped down with her sword, and felt a grim joy at the ripping of flesh and sundering of bone.
Now—out of the alley, into a street not much wider or lighter, and down its shadowy length. The slaves would be behind, but
There was a one-story house ahead, of the usual flat-roofed construction. 'Up!' gasped Alfrid, and made a stirrup of her hands. She fairly flung the boy onto the roof. He gave her a hand up, bracing his feet against the parapet, and they fell down together behind it.
Alfrid heard the slaves' bare feet trotting below her, but dared not risk a glance. Snakelike, she and Frehan slithered across the housetop. Only a narrow space separated them from the next ; they jumped that and crossed over to another and higher roof. From this, Alfrid peered into the street beyond.
A couple of city guards were walking down it, spears at the ready. Alfrid wondered whether she should join them—no, they would be no shield against a blowgun dart sent from an alley—anyway, they might be priest-loyal.
She put her mouth to Frehan's ear, even then aware of the dark silky hair tickling her lips, and whispered : 'What next?'
'I don't know.' He looked ahead over the nighted roofs to the great central forum, still ruddy-bright with torches. Beyond it, the city climbed toward a double hill, on either crest of which was a building. One must be the palace, thought Alfrid—it was in the graceful colonnaded style of the later Empire, white marble under Amaris. Nearly all its windows were dark ; but she thought, puzzledly, that it was surrounded by a ring of fires.
The other building was a great gray pile, sprawling its grim massiveness in a red blaze of light. From it came the steady gong-beat and a rising chant—the Temple of the Two Moons, holding vigil at their wedding.
The night was huge above them, a vault of infinite crystal
black in which the stars glittered in their frosty myriads and the Milky Way tumbled its bright mysterious cataract between the constellations. The pale disc of Amaris rode high, painting the city and the hills and the dead sea-floor with its cold ghostly light. And now Dannos was swinging rapidly out of the west, brightening the dark and casting weird double shadows that slowly writhed with its changing position.
It was bitter chill. The wind blew and blew, hooting down the streets, banging signs and driving dead leaves and sand and bits of parchment before it. Alfrid shivered, wishing for the rest of her clothes. In the waxing moonlight, she could see sand-devils whirling on the sea-bottom, a witches' dance—and on such a night, trolls and ghosts and the Fates themselves might well be abroad.
She set her teeth against chattering and tried to fix her mind on real and desperately urgent problems. 'The priests seemed able to trace us,' she said. 'At least, they knew where I went for lodging. Best we work toward the palace as you say, but look for a ruined house or some such place to hide in till morning.'
III
The street below was deserted now. They jumped down to it and darted into the shadows on the other side. Slipping along the walls of buildings they followed its twisting length for some time. An occasional cloaked form passed silently by; otherwise there was only the bitter wind echoing hollowly along the tunnel-like streets.
Of a sudden Alfrid stiffened. She heard the
The Virgin of Valkarion Reheld Page 3