“When we realized what was happening, we tried to trace the spells, but they are subtle. It took us days to follow them even as far as the Empire of Chaldreth, and no one could learn more. The Assembly of the Temple chose to send me into the Empire to find out why the Empire is doing this and to stop it, if I can. Arelnath and Jaren are Cilhar mercenaries, hired by the Temple Speaker to help me. Do you understand now?”
Ranira started to nod, then frowned. “Why did you have to be in Drinn during the Festival in order to do this? If you had come just before or just after it, there would have been no reason for the Temple of Chaldon to arrest you. Foreigners are only banned during Festival.”
A fleeting grin crossed Jaren’s face, but Mist looked uncomfortable. “We have traveled through the Empire of Chaldreth for weeks,” she said. “I have learned little, but enough to know that the Temple of Chaldon is the real authority here. Drinn is the center of the Empire and the home of the main Temple, and Midwinter Festival is the greatest of your feasts. I could sense the power flowing from the Temple of Chaldon toward the Island, and I hoped to learn the answers to my questions here.”
“Did you?” Ranira asked. Mist shook her head.
“There is a darkness about the Temple of Chaldon that I cannot penetrate. Even in the House of Correction I could not discover the source of the Temple’s power, nor the reason it attacks us.”
Once more Mist’s hand closed around the white stone she wore. Suddenly she looked very tired. “I will try again to read them, but not until we are at the river. I am sure the priests will notice at once, so we must be able to leave quickly when I have finished.”
“Is that necessary?” Arelnath said, scowling. “We have already learned a great deal. If the priests of Chaldon notice your spells quickly enough to guess what we’re doing, they may be able to catch us, and the Island will learn nothing.”
Mist hesitated; then her mouth set in a determined line. “The Temple of Chaldon is the key to the Empire. Yes, we have learned much, but we still do not know why they would destroy us. I must find out why, and how, and this is the only way left.”
“I think they fear your magic and your influence among their neighbors,” Arelnath said. “A Temple that freely teaches the use of magic is not likely to be popular with those who burn witches.”
“Perhaps that is part of their reason, but I am sure there is more,” Mist said. “I must try to find out what other motives they have. Only once more. That is all I ask.”
“If you insist,” Jaren said. “I am not magician enough to stop you. But will you have enough strength to deal with the snakes if you make this attempt?”
“I will do what I must,” Mist replied. “Do not worry. The charm against snakes is an easy one. Unless I am dead or unconscious, I will be able to warn them away. It takes very little strength.”
The blond man did not look completely reassured, but all he said was, “Since we are leaving tomorrow, I suggest we try to sleep now. We may not get so good a chance again for a while.”
“Sleep?” Ranira said incredulously.
“Of course,” Arelnath said. “You’ll feel much better after you have rested, and so will Mist. Match straws for first watch, Jaren?”
The blond man nodded, and a few moments later Arelnath sighed. “You always were luckier than I. Dream of home.” She crawled over him to the exit hole and vanished.
Mist leaned forward and pinched out the candle stub. “The Moon watch you,” her disembodied voice said in the darkness. Ranira heard a low chuckle from Jaren, but her eyes were already closing of their own weight. A moment later, she was asleep.
CHAPTER
TEN
“Ranira, wake up.” Someone was shaking her shoulder. With a groan, Ranira lifted her head and opened her eyes. Her muscles were stiff and sore. The uneven, rocky surface on which she lay seemed to have bruised her everywhere. Jaren was crouching over her, holding a small bundle. She blinked at him for a moment before she realized that someone had lit the candle stub once more.
“Here,” Jaren said, tossing the bundle at her. “Put this on. It’s probably more comfortable than what you’re wearing, and it’s certainly less noticeable.”
Ranira automatically caught the soft, awkward mass—a brown pilgrim’s robe. She held it for a moment, then pulled it over her head without removing any of her other garments. She tried to belt it in place, but gave up after a brief struggle; there simply was not enough space. The belt would have to wait until she was outside in the alley again. An icy finger traced a line down the middle of her back as she thought of going out to dodge the Templemen once more. She shook her head, checked her borrowed veil, and looked up.
Jaren was watching her, an amused expression on his face, but all he said was, “Here. Breakfast. Don’t look too closely, just eat it. You’ll need the energy by the end of the night.” He handed her a crumbling lump of bread and a hard, squarish object which proved to be cheese—the standard fare of the poor Drinn. In the flickering candlelight she could not see the food clearly, but she had certainly eaten far more dubious-looking meals. She realized suddenly that the last food she remembered eating was nearly two days in the past. If the Temple had fed her after Gadrath had made her drink his drugged wine, she had no memory of it. She bit eagerly into the bread.
There was not enough to satisfy her, but she was no longer painfully hungry when she finished. She licked the crumbs from her fingers and looked up. Except for Shandy, the others were still eating; evidently, the unappetizing appearance of the food affected the foreigners more than it did the two Chalders. Ranira noticed several more lumpish bundles lying beside Jaren. “Where did you get all this?” she asked, waving at both the robes and the food.
“Shandy and I stole them while you were asleep,” he replied with a grin. “We got a firebox, too, and some cord. Nobody watches pilgrims closely; after the first robe it was easy. We can walk right to the river without being noticed in these.”
“We might be able to,” Arelnath put in, “but we aren’t going to try. Walking openly through Drinn would be like going up to a Temple guard and saying ‘Excuse me, I’m one of the people you’re looking for. Would you mind arresting me?’ You’re crazy to even suggest it. We don’t know enough of the customs of Drinn to fake being pilgrims. I’ll wager it’s more complicated than it looks. Haven’t your harebrained ideas gotten us into enough trouble?”
“As you wish,” Jaren said with an unrepentant shrug. He rose and made his way to the entrance hole. “In any case, we had best be on our way.”
“Don’t forget your own disguise,” Arelnath said. She picked up one of the bundles and pitched it at Jaren. “It will be easy enough to spot you even with the robe; you’re too tall for a Chalder.”
Jaren caught the robe, then dropped on all fours and vanished into the small opening that led to the alley outside. Shandy followed immediately. The ease with which he negotiated the tunnel showed how often he had used it. Arelnath looked at Mist and sighed. “I’m next, I suppose. Mother of Mountains, but I’ll be glad to be out of this city! Crawling through holes isn’t much to my liking.” She scooped up the two remaining bundles and pushed them into the tunnel. In a moment more she was gone.
Ranira slid over to the tunnel mouth and started inching her way uphill to the bend. It was more awkward this time because of the robe, but she managed the trip without any major difficulty. When she reached the alley, Arelnath was waiting to help her to her feet and brush the dust from the robe.
The sun had already set, but enough light remained for Ranira to see Arelnath and Jaren clearly. The two had donned the brown pilgrim’s robes. Ranira surveyed them critically. Their swords made odd bulges beneath the coarse brown cloth, but with luck no one would come near enough to notice. Far more serious was their manner. Even in the fading light, it was plain that neither had the bearing of a pilgrim.
“Can’t you look a bit more frightened?” Ranira asked. “No one will believe you’re pilgrims if
you walk like that!”
“Ranira is right,” Mist said as she emerged from the tunnel and slid her own robe over her head. “Try to seem less sure of yourselves. We have no wish to attract attention.”
“Come then,” Jaren said softly. He turned and, to Ranira’s amazement, scuttled down the alley in perfect imitation of a frightened old man. The others followed more slowly. When they reached the mouth of the alley, Shandy took the lead, and again they began a twisting progress through the streets of Drinn.
There were few people about. Once again Ranira wondered what had become of all the pilgrims. The few they saw were hurrying toward the center of the city, where the Temple of Chaldon loomed. Not even Templemen were in evidence. The city seemed more deserted as the darkness deepened, and she grew more and more uneasy as they drew nearer to the walls of Drinn.
At the end of a short, dirty sidestreet, Shandy turned and wriggled through a crack where two buildings did not quite meet. The others followed with more difficulty and soon found themselves standing on a small stone ledge, about two paces wide. On one side rose the featureless wall of the building; on the other, the stone dropped toward the river, forming a low wall along the bank. Ahead, the walls of Drinn arched low over the dark waters, barely visible against the now completely darkened sky.
“Well, who is first?” Jaren asked, breaking the silence. He looked at Mist.
“Not yet,” Mist said. “I wish to try my strength against the Temple one last time, now that I will not be hampered by the need for secrecy. But be ready; we will have to leave quickly.”
“That is easy enough,” Jaren murmured, looking down at the river. “All that is necessary is to jump.” Mist seated herself on the wall above the river. She reached up and cupped the stone she wore in both her hands. The stone began to glow softly, and Mist’s face went still and remote. Ranira watched in fascination until she was distracted by a touch on her arm.
“The robe will hamper you dangerously in the water,” Arelnath was saying. “Leave it here, but be sure to take the knife.” She and Jaren had already discarded their pilgrim’s garb, and Jaren was making a bundle of the swords, the remains of the food, the firebox, and Shandy’s water bottle.
Ranira hesitated. She could not dispute the advice, but she was reluctant to part with the only decent clothes she had. Arelnath smiled slightly and said, “Add it to Jaren’s pack. It will not absorb much water, if it is tightly rolled and tied.” Ranira complied, and after a moment’s thought, added the veil and her knife to the pile as well.
“Good,” Jaren said as he dropped his leather boots on top of the stack. He strapped the bundle together with the cords that had belted the pilgrims’ robes. It made a surprisingly compact parcel. Jaren looked up. “I think…”
He was cut off in midsentence by a bright silver light flashing from the riverbank where Mist was seated. Ranira heard the woman’s voice cry strange words, and she felt a tingle run down her spine. She heard Jaren say, “That’s done it. The river now, and quickly!” Ranira paused, blinking. Before she could gather her wits, a hand grabbed her arm and propelled her over the edge of the wall.
As she fell, she heard splashes and a brief wail that sounded like Shandy. Then she hit the water. The river was deep and far colder than she remembered. The current pulled her along. In panic, she tried to fight her way to the surface. Her head broke water at last, and she gasped in relief, then gasped again as she started to sink once more. Her second breath sucked in a mouthful of water, and she choked. Most of her breath was gone, but she could not keep her head in the air long enough to draw another.
A wave of water smothered her, but a moment later an arm encircled her waist. Almost at once she found her head above water. She coughed and gasped. “Stop thrashing around like that,” a voice said in her ear. “It won’t do any good, and it will certainly attract the Templemen if you keep it up. Relax.”
Ranira recognized Jaren’s voice and tried to do as he said. Under his guidance she found herself floating on her back while the man supported her head. When at last she became convinced that she was not going to drown, she tried to look around. She was rewarded with a glimpse of several dark shapes above the water nearby before she started sinking again.
“Relax, I said,” Jaren whispered. “Everyone’s all right; you don’t need to see them.”
“But Shandy,” Ranira spluttered. “He can’t swim either.”
“Arelnath has him. It’s all right, I tell you. Be quiet.”
As if to confirm Jaren’s words, a second voice whispered in the darkness. The echoes from the water distorted the sound slightly, but Ranira could still identify the speaker as Mist. “The Temple will send men soon, and probably the snakes as well,” she said. “We must…” Ranira lost the rest of the sentence in a little wave that covered her ears briefly. She knew that Jaren must have heard, though, for almost immediately he shifted his grip on her and she felt a surge of water as his legs kicked.
Between Jaren’s efforts and the increasing current, they began to move more quickly. The river narrowed as it approached the city walls, where it flowed faster and deeper. Ranira grew more nervous, but quickly discovered that whenever she began to grow tense she also began to sink. Jaren was concentrating on swimming; he had no attention to spare for advising her. Somehow he seemed able to consistently choose the fastest part of the river. They were approaching the arching walls of the city with frightening speed.
Just as they swept under the wall, Ranira saw lights along the bank they had just vacated. She stiffened and cried out, pointing, but the movement pushed her mouth under water and the cry came out in bubbles. Then they were under the city wall. Jaren stopped swimming and clamped a hand over Ranira’s mouth. She heard the water slapping softly at the sides of the tunnel, and nodded understanding. The walls multiplied even that slight noise into an eerie murmur; any additional sound, at least until they reached the end of the tunnel, was almost certain to carry back to the Templemen. Jaren’s hand loosened its hold, but remained ready in case he had not interpreted her nod correctly.
The tunnel was pitch-black. Ranira had no idea how wide it was, or how long. It seemed to her that they had been in darkness far longer than it would take to pass under the thickness of the city walls. Just as that thought occurred to her, her head scraped the top of the tunnel, then scraped it again. Jaren pulled her backward, so that only her nose and mouth were above water. The top of the tunnel continued to drop. Jaren tapped her head with his finger. Guessing what was coming, Ranira took a deep breath just before the roof of the tunnel met the water and they had to dive. Jaren held her under one arm like a sack of flour and began to kick again, assisting the current now that no splash could betray them to the Templemen.
Without warning, the current swirled into a confusing mass of eddies, then slowed. Jaren kicked again, and they bobbed to the surface. Ranira gasped air and felt Jaren’s warning touch on her shoulder. They had surfaced just outside the city wall, where the river widened into a broad pool. Elewyth was just rising over the horizon, and silver-green sparkles of moonlight lit the ripples on the water. It made the swimmers very conspicuous, Ranira realized as she watched first a single dark head and then two more break water nearby. Behind them was the wall of the city, dead-black against the stars. She blinked as a shadow passed along the top of the wall, then realized that a guard was patrolling there.
She swallowed hard. If he looked in their direction, he would surely see them.
Her attention was then distracted by an S-shaped ripple in the water. She blinked, then saw another, and realized what they were. Snakes! She froze. As a result, she started to sink at once, but her fear of the snakes outweighed her fear of drowning. Jaren’s grip on her shoulders was all that kept her from going completely under before she saw one of the snakes turn aside. Unbelieving, her eyes flickered to the second ripple. It, too, changed direction before it came within an arm’s length of the swimmers. “It’s working,” she whispered, too softly
even for Jaren to hear. “It really is working.”
The current slowly carried the little group past the wide section of the river, to where it turned and narrowed once more. Ranira grew impatient. Even with Jaren’s cautious kicks and one-handed strokes to aid the current, they were moving far more slowly than a walking man. Then she remembered the guards. A group of people clambering up the banks of the river would be easy to see at this distance, and it would be hard to avoid making noise that might attract a Watchman’s attention.
The river narrowed again at last and the current quickened. The banks grew higher, hiding the swimmers from the city walls. Jaren began to swim more strongly, angling toward the south bank of the river where a little grove of trees near the water’s edge could give the fugitives some shelter. The water grew shallower. Ranira’s feet touched bottom. Thankfully, she stood on it and, with Jaren steadying her, began moving slowly toward the shore.
The trees were still nearly twenty paces downstream, and the bank was nearly as far. The river was shallower only because some quirk of flow had deposited layer upon layer of pebbles and sand along a wide band from the riverbank to the place where Ranira and Jaren stood, creating a low shoal. She could hear small watery noises behind her—Mist and Arelnath were still swimming. She turned her head, but the distance was too great for her to find them in the darkness.
Suddenly something like a heavy club hit Ranira between the eyes. She stumbled, pulling on Jaren’s supporting arm.
Her head rang. It was a moment before she realized that there had been no physical blow; Jaren had noticed nothing until she pulled at him. A second blow fell, but this time Ranira was almost ready for it, and she did not fall. Blood pounded painfully in her ears. Simultaneously, she heard a gasp and a low moan from the direction of the deeper water. Between the darkness and her own discomfort, she could not identify the speakers. Then, as unexpectedly as it had come, the pressure vanished.
[Lyra 02] - Daughter of Witches Page 9