Rafe’s eyes flashed at him. “Yes, we have. And if my suspicions are correct, we need look no further. Let’s go. We can always come back if I’m wrong.”
Without another word, they followed him out of the deep treasure-chamber and back into the blazing midmorning sun.
“Meet me at the tavern in a half-hour,” Rafe said, taking off at a run toward the Great House.
Jared turned on his heel and walked along the river bank, kicking stones into the clear water.
“I sure hope he’s actually found something useful,” Brytnoth muttered, staring after Rafe’s retreating form. “Because there’ll be hell to pay if he hasn’t.”
He turned to follow Jared, who was now sitting some distance away, skipping rocks across the surface of the river. Brytnoth dropped into the grass next to him and picked up a rock of his own.
“I never learned to do that,” he said, watching Jared spin another stone across the glittering water.
“You’re not missing much,” Jared said. “It’s an idle habit.”
“We’re not just wasting time, you know.”
Jared examined the stone between his fingers, feeling its smoothness. “I wish I could be sure of that.”
“Rafe doesn’t just waste time. He knows the stakes. He must have some reason for stopping the search when he did.”
“I’m not so sure he does understand the stakes,” Jared said after a long silence. “I don’t even know if I understand the stakes.”
“Knowledge in this life is never perfect. What we do know is that we have less than two days to find Sahara before she’s executed. Rafe would never jeopardize her life, you know.”
Jared stared out across the river and made no answer.
At the appointed time, Jared and Brytnoth found a corner table in the nearly deserted tavern and sat down to wait for Rafe. Several minutes slipped away, and then several more. Jared was fairly grinding his teeth in impatience when Brytnoth, who was facing the door, breathed a sigh of relief.
“Here he comes,” he said.
As Rafe slid into the bench next to Brytnoth, Jared favored him with a ferocious scowl. “You’re late.”
Rafe ignored his irritation. “I was right,” he said in an excited whisper. “I was right!”
Curiosity ate away at Jared’s anger, and he leaned forward as Rafe spread a small piece of paper on the table.
In miniature, in wax as red as blood, was a tiny landscape—mountains, a valley, and a high and desolate temple.
“Are you kidding me?” Brytnoth murmured, awe-struck. “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s fantastic,” said Jared. “And exactly what we needed.”
“But why would they put a map on a seal?” Brytnoth asked. “It doesn’t make any sense!”
“Well, it all depends on whom you mean by they, doesn’t it?” Rafe paused, but when no one spoke, he continued, “The Dragon-Lords would never put something like that on a seal. Why would they? They know where they live. But my suspicion is that someone discovered the whereabouts of the sacrificial temple and inscribed it here, and somehow it was smuggled into the Great City. The map remained secret except to those who knew where to look. Like the weapons themselves.”
“Well, now that we know where we’re going, what are we waiting for?” Jared asked, smiling suddenly. “Let’s finish this.”
*****
“You have two days to live. What say you, prophetess? Where is your savior now?”
Sahara’s eyes flickered up to rest on the two guards, who delighted in reminding her of the passing hours and the dwindling chance of a rescue. She hazily contemplated any number of possible responses, but she hadn’t the energy to utter a single word.
A dull and raspy laughter fell on her ears, but it was as though someone else was hearing it, as though someone else was sitting there in the cell, cold, near despairing. It didn’t matter that they were laughing—it rolled off her soul like water.
And even though it didn’t matter, she mustered the last of her energy to say, “Go to hell.”
This seemed only to increase their mirth, and she knew that they knew how close she was to breaking. It infuriated her, but only for a moment—a brief spark of white hot rage that burned out almost as soon as it had ignited. As she dropped her head wearily on her arms, she heard them rustle out of the room, still laughing.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, where she was still able to think rationally, she knew with certainty that Jared would never abandon her, that he would die before he gave up. But in her conscious thoughts, where the nebulous eddies of dark terrors swirled, this certainty was but a shadow, a figment of a dream that was never meant to come true.
I might have destroyed him myself, that last time, she thought miserably. That would just figure…I’ve destroyed every other good thing in my life somehow or another.
She forced herself to raise her head, seeking out the sliver of sky that taunted her through the window. As if in answer to an unspoken prayer, a sudden gush of sunlight flooded through a gap in the high clouds, poured through the cruel window, and drowned her in a pool of warmth and light. She closed her eyes against the brightness, seeing red as the light illuminated her translucent lids, and took a deep gulping breath, as if she could breathe in the sunlight, or drink it in like strong liquor. She felt strength returning to her spirit.
It’s going to be all right.
Her eyes flew open, and for a moment her heart caught in her throat. The brightness of the light and the influx of strength had turned her thoughts unconsciously to higher powers—and for that one moment, she thought God spoke to her in that voice. The next moment, the terror faded and recognition flooded in to take its place.
Jared!
The relief made her laugh inside and out. As her vision cleared and he came into focus, she saw the surprise on his face.
Why are you laughing? he demanded, frowning a little.
I thought you were God, she confessed.
He stared at her for a moment, looking at once elated and horribly ashamed. Why would you ever think that?
She explained briefly what had happened. So I was afraid for a moment that it was God speaking to me.
Well… Jared looked profoundly awkward. I’m sorry that it’s just me.
She laughed aloud again, a delicious, rippling, soul-born laugh that reverberated through her grim cell.
I’m not. I was afraid I’d killed you last time…I’m sorry.
Jared bowed his head slightly. I understand. You don’t need to say you’re sorry.
So I guess you’re still coming, then?
Jared nodded. Can you tell us anything about where you are? We have some clues, but I’d really feel better about all this if we had something more solid.
Her vision wavered. The sunlight was suddenly swallowed up in roiling clouds, and at the same moment she heard the bolt drawn in the lock.
Someone’s coming, she said. Someone’s…I have to… Her eyes fixed on his, the only thing she could still see as the connection was severed. Pray for illumination.
He was gone. In his place stood a monstrous figure, easily twice the size of a single Dragon-Lord and with four claws like razors on each hand. Sahara felt her renewed courage quail like a desert flower closing under the chill of the night-wind.
“It is time,” said the creature in a voice that seemed to shake mortar from between the stones of the walls. “The long march to your death-day is almost at an end.”
Chapter 26
They had made good progress in the last two days. They were already high up into the craggy cliffs to the north and west of the city, safely out of reach of the nightly dust storms that plagued the desert flatlands. The sun was sinking beneath a blood-red horizon, leaving the rest of the sky prey to an ever-deepening darkness punctuated by thousands of stars.
“I guess this is as good a place as any for the night,” remarked Brytnoth, casting a dubious eye around the shallow hollow they had discovered.
/> Jared clambered down from his vantage point on the western side of their shelter, skidding a bit in the scree that had collected on the shallow slope of the cliff. Rafe was wordlessly unpacking their gear.
“Rafe doesn’t think so,” Jared noted, reaching the level in a small avalanche of pebbles and dust. “What’s the deal, Rafe? You saw something better somewhere else?”
“Nope.”
“That’s hardly helpful, is it?”
“Nope.”
Jared sighed and shook his head. Brytnoth was obviously uneasy that they were in disagreement, so Jared said, “We’ve got some cover here.” And then, echoing Brytnoth’s earlier statement, “It’s as good a place as any.”
“Need I remind my stealthy scout buddy that creepy things that go bump in the night could pounce on us from either side of this miserable little pit?” asked Rafe, his words jesting but his tone clearly combative.
Jared surveyed him in mild surprise. “You needn’t,” he said. “So why are you?”
“Because if you didn’t need reminding, then we wouldn’t be camping in this hole!”
“You have a better idea?”
Rafe shook his head silently. “Not a one comes to mind.”
“Then quit griping. Complaints with no suggestions are useless.” Jared turned away from Rafe and shook out his sleeping bag.
Brytnoth watched Rafe for a moment longer and then crept over to Jared, who was testing out the place he had chosen to bed down for the night.
“Too many rocks,” he was muttering. He rolled off the bag onto his knees and pulled it towards himself a little bit.
“Jared?” Brytnoth’s voice was almost a whisper.
“What?”
“Is it true, what Rafe said? I mean, could we be ambushed here?”
“We could be ambushed anywhere.” Jared tested his sleeping bag for the second time and grimaced.
“That’s hardly reassuring.”
“I’m not your mother, and I’m not here to reassure you!” Jared snapped. “We’ll set a watch, and that’s all we can do.”
Brytnoth watched him adjust his sleeping bag for the third time and then went to set up his own spot to sleep.
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting around a very small campfire, which Rafe had built out of the twisted roots and branches of a rugged mountain plant. Each sat with his trencher of bread and an assortment of dried fruits and meats, and each sat, scowling at the fire, without eating a thing.
At last, Rafe spoke. “Look, I’m sorry about before.”
Jared nodded brusquely. “We just have to be careful, you know. We’re in unknown hostile territory on an extremely tight timetable, and we have very little notion of where exactly we’re headed. We’ve got just a miniature wax map and some notion I have in my head to guide us. I don’t want us to do the Dragon-Lords any favors by cutting each other’s throats before we’ve finished our mission.”
“I wasn’t that belligerent about the campsite!” Rafe exclaimed.
“I know. I’m just saying we have to be careful, that’s all.”
Rafe raised his eyebrows and thoughtfully chewed a piece of dried meat.
After a minute slipped away in silence, Brytnoth asked, “How will we divide the watch?”
“You take the first shift,” Jared said. “I’ll take the second, and Rafe can have the third.”
“That’s generous of you,” said Rafe. “You sure you want the middle watch? It’s the worst one.”
“I’m sure.”
After another sizable pause, Rafe ventured a new line of conversation. “Have you…heard from Sahara? Since that incident on our trip back from the Great City, I mean?”
Jared nodded, his mouth a grim line. “Yes. I tried to ask her for directions.”
“You asked a woman for directions?” Rafe asked, an expression of mock horror on his face. “And you expected an intelligible answer?”
Jared stared at him for a moment and then broke out laughing. Soon they were all laughing, relieved to forget for a moment the terrible task that lay before them.
“Rafe, you may be an idiot sometimes,” Jared remarked when he had breath to speak, “but you sure know how to lighten the heart!” Rafe inclined his head as if receiving a high honor, and Jared continued, “Yes, I did ask her for directions, and yes, I did expect an intelligible answer. She’s been a great help before.”
“Did you get one?” Brytnoth asked. “An intelligible answer, I mean?”
“No.”
The high spirits which had welled up with their laughter fell as sharply as if Jared had struck them all with a war-hammer.
“No?” Rafe asked, blank disbelief in his voice. “Did she tell you anything useful at all?”
Jared stared into the fire for a long time. “‘Useful’ is kind of an ugly word,” he mused, “don’t you think? I mean, we use it so often as a criterion for eliminating things we don’t want. That armor isn’t useful—discard it. Or even, that servant isn’t useful…”
“Not to interrupt your impressive philosophical contemplation of life, the universe, and everything,” Rafe cut in, “but useful is kind of high on the priority list right now.”
Jared roused himself and said in a frozen sort of voice, “No. She said nothing useful.”
Brytnoth waited for him to continue, but when Jared simply began eating his dinner, he cried, “But you can’t just stop there!”
Jared glanced at him in surprise. “Why not?”
“Because…because you haven’t told us anything! What did she say? Even if it’s not useful! I mean…”
Jared measured him for a moment over the rim of his mug. “What if I don’t particularly want to tell you what else she said?”
This seemed to stagger Brytnoth for a moment. While he was still fumbling for a response, Rafe reminded him, “You know, she is his girl, not ours.”
Jared grinned a bit at this, considering that if Sahara were in their midst, she would probably furiously protest, “I’m nobody’s girl!,” just as she had done so many times before. But then it occurred to him, with all the suddenness of a revelation, that she might not say that any longer.
“I know that!” Brytnoth snapped. The harshness of his voice dragged Jared out of his reverie.
“Look, we’re all friends here,” Rafe said, hand outstretched as though he were making friends with a bristling dog. “No offense!”
Brytnoth dropped his eyes and grumbled at his trencher. Jared and Rafe exchanged glances, and Rafe shook his head ever so slightly.
Even though he knew he should rest during Brytnoth’s watch, Jared lay awake, staring up into the star-studded sky and feeling no tingle of sleep behind his eyes. He glanced at where Brytnoth sat, hunched next to the tiny, flickering campfire with an expressionless face that hid, Jared suspected, a roiling heart. Jared sighed and turned back to the quiet stars. All three of them had been so involved in Sahara’s life, and especially now in her rescue, that it seemed inevitable to Jared that each of them should love her in his own way. But Brytnoth’s outburst made Jared uneasy. Rafe respected his relationship with Sahara and loved her, Jared did not doubt, as a brother might love his little sister. But Brytnoth?
Jared thought back to the first time he had seen the young outworlder, just after he had been released from K’ilenfir. Something about Brytnoth’s avid curiosity, his hunger to know anything and everything about Sahara, had made Jared wary of him. He felt that wariness returning, the tide stemmed only by his mental insistence that he knew Brytnoth now, that he knew what his feelings for Sahara really were, that he knew he was no betrayer.
And yet, there it was—the clammy hand of doubt.
Frowning, Jared rolled away from the fire, staring at the blank face of rock ahead of him. He shut his eyes, willed sleep to come, and only partially succeeded. When Brytnoth shook him by the shoulder some hours later, he was barely in a half-doze.
The rest of the night crawled past without incident. When dawn finally broke o
ver the eastern horizon, the light shone pale as gruel before quickly succumbing to a bank of dark billowing clouds.
“Nice weather we’re having,” remarked Rafe with his customary lopsided grin. Even before he quite finished speaking, a smattering of rain pelted them in the face. “Just lovely.”
“Today is the day,” observed Jared.
No one made any reply.
All that morning, they wound their way through the trackless waste of rock, and when they stopped for their midday meal they still had not found the fortress.
“Don’t you think it’s strange that there are no scouts?” Rafe asked, gnawing on a strip of dried meat. “If we were close, we should be dodging them, it seems to me.”
Jared sighed and stared up at the sky. Despair was beginning to eat at his own spirits, and he could think of nothing reassuring to say to them.
And what good had it done, after all? What good was it that he had found her that day in the desert if he was to lose her now in the mountains?
Jared dropped his head into his hands and pressed his palms into his eyes. An overwhelming weariness surged up within him and his eyes burned with it.
He didn’t know how long he sat that way, but he felt the chill around them deepening, a damp, malignant sort of chill. He raised his head a little and saw the fog, seeping down the cliffs around them and poking its nose in and out of every crevice in the rock. Rafe and Brytnoth blurred into an indistinct mass where they sat together, leaning against a boulder and talking in low voices.
Time was running out. This day would end in seven hours, and Sahara would meet her death at moonrise. But although he knew that time was precious, though he knew they should set off again immediately, he felt a blank and stultifying hopelessness. What was the good of it, after all? They hadn’t found their way in the clear; how were they supposed to navigate in this accursed fog?
Jared buried his face once more in his hands, trying to ward off the chill that leeched into him from within and from without.
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