City of the Lost l-1

by Mary H. Herbert

  Voices echoed up the corridor, drawing Linsha’s dark thoughts back to the present. She and Mariana walked to the arched doorway and waited for the approaching company. Neither of them could find words to say. There would be much to do and much to discuss with the leaders of the city, but Linsha could not participate as long as she was wanted by the Solamnic Order, and Mariana knew she would have to hand over the investigation of this tragedy to her superiors-not that she truly minded. Until the torches came to flood the cavern with light and the people came to crowd around the corpse and mourn, they had the darkness and the dead to themselves. They used the time to say goodbye in their own hearts to the dragon they both loved and respected.

  An hour later Linsha walked out of the tunnels into the hot sunshine and blessedly fresh air. She dropped the Solamnic cloak in the nearest dark hole she could find and stripped off her outer tunic. If only she could change the rest of her clothes so easily and take a long bath. She knew she reeked of death and decay. She could still smell it on everything.

  Lanther waited for her in the courtyard, his rugged face grim. “I heard the news,” he said. “The city elders have sent out criers to spread the word.”

  “How are people taking it?” Linsha asked wearily. She sat down on a stone bench and put her head in her hands.

  “Not well. Most are terrified and appalled. First the storm, then the murder of the Solamnic Knights, now the death of Iyesta. The mayor is running around in a panic. Falaius is badly shaken. I have never seen him look so old.” He looked closely at her hunched shoulders and pale face. “Is it that bad?” he asked softly.

  She glanced up at him, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It is beyond bad. Iyesta is nothing but a withered, beetle-chewed hulk. I could not even tell how she died, Lanther. It was horrible! And I don’t… I don’t know how to avenge her.”

  The Legionnaire came to put an arm around her shoulders, caught a whiff of her clothes, and changed his solicitous gesture to a pat before he moved upwind. “I’ve seen patrols of Knights out in the city this morning searching for you. We need to get you out of sight. And Falaius wants to talk to you.”

  “Could you get some clothes, too?” Linsha asked, a faint spark back in her red-rimmed eyes.

  “Absolutely.” He thrust a bundle into her arms. “I’ve already taken care of that.”

  She untied the bundle, and for the first time in days, she laughed when she saw the bright colors and flimsy fabrics of the clothes he had brought. “A courtesan? Whose bits did you steal?”

  “Borrowed. They’re Callista’s. She said the last thing the Solamnics would expect you to wear is a veil and courtesan pants.”

  She held up the flimsy, baggy pants and the tight corset favored by many of the courtesans in the city. She had to agree it would be a good disguise. As a thirty-six-year-old Knight with sword calluses on her hands, she was hardly courtesan material. With a wry smile, she ducked into a nearby building and changed into the outfit.

  When she came out, Lanther gave her such a slow appraisal from head to slippered foot that her cheeks burned. “You missed your calling, Lady Knight,” he said.

  Linsha adjusted the bright gold veil over her curls and across her mouth and nose so only her eyes were showing. “I hardly think so,” she replied tartly. “Now, how am I supposed to get to your headquarters? I can’t ride in this… this…” She waved wordlessly at the pants.

  Lanther’s eyebrow rose to herald the quirky expression that often passed for a smile. He snapped his fingers. From around the open gateway of the wall came two men carrying a covered sedan chair with gauze curtains. Lanther pulled open a curtain and beckoned her inside.

  15

  The Wait is Over

  Trying to look demure, Linsha stepped inside and sat down on the cushioned seat. The chair swayed and rose as the men lifted it and set off at a humpy trot. Linsha gripped the armrests of the chair in alarm. The conveyance jerked and swung like an obstinate colt. After a while, seeing the chair remained upright, she relaxed a little and tried to enjoy the novelty. She flicked open the curtain just enough to see the city streets.

  “Comfortable?” Lanther’s voice called from the outside.

  “I’d rather walk,” she admitted.

  “Not yet, my lady.” His voice suddenly took on a quiet note of caution. “A patrol of Knights is approaching as I speak.”

  She pulled the curtains closed and leaned back in her chair, trying to look relaxed. The curtains were thin enough to reveal the outline of a person within and opaque enough to hide the details. With luck, the Knights would see only a woman inside and not bother to examine the chair’s occupant more closely.

  Especially since she had none of the jewelry, perfume, nail decorations, or face paints the real courtesans preferred. Only smudges of dirt and a pervading smell of rot and decay.

  “Halt!” ordered a male voice.

  Linsha felt her heart beat faster. It was Sir Hugh, and the man was nothing less than thorough. Would he recognize Lanther’s face or her profile through the gauzy fabric?

  “Yes, my lord,” whined a second voice. Linsha started. Did that nasally, obsequious voice belong to the Legionnaire?

  “Where are you going with that chair?”

  “My master sent me to escort this lady to a place unknown to his wife.” He made an obscene gesture even Linsha could see through the curtains. “If you get my meaning, Sir Knight.”

  Linsha held her breath. She could make out Sir Hugh’s outline through the curtain, and she could see he was staring intently at her. She leaned forward and blew a kiss at him.

  “Let’s get moving,” Sir Hugh snapped. Without a backward glance, he reined his horse away and led his patrol up the street toward the North Quarter.

  Linsha let her breath out in a sigh. For just a moment she thought he had recognized her… but, no; surely he would have spoken. She opened her mouth to say something to Lanther when a long horn blast came singing on the wind and stopped her words in her throat. The sound was picked up by another horn and another until the city rang with the clarion warning. In every street people stopped in their tracks and stared fearfully toward the sea.

  “The signal is given,” Lanther said. “The ships have been sighted.”

  Muttering an oath, Linsha thrust aside the curtain and swung her legs around to hop out.

  Lanther’s hand clamped around her ankle. “Where do you think you are going?”

  Linsha froze. In those seven simple words she heard a steely edge of command that would not tolerate even the thought of disobedience. She had never heard that tone coming from him before, and it startled her enough to make her pause.

  He made use of her hesitation to push her feet hack in the chair and pull the curtains closed. “Stay in the chair. There are Solamnics just up the road. These men will take you to our safe house.”

  “I want to know-”

  He cut her off. “I know you do. I will find out what I can.”

  The horns had finally stopped blowing, and an eerie silence held its breath in the city. The morning sun beamed clear and hot over Mirage, but everyone felt the chillness of the shadow of fear. There were no more dragons to protect the people, no more ghostly images to fill the streets and act as a mirror to hide behind. The dragonlord they had counted on for so many years was dead, and the city council was in a panic. A fearful storm had left buildings damaged, people dead, and the militia scattered. Now a strange fleet of ships drew near, and no one knew what to do about it. Iyesta would have flown over the ships and driven them off if they so much as showed a weapon, but by some hideous stroke Iyesta had become a withered, beetled-chewed hulk, and there was no one left to take command of her realm.

  Linsha heard hoofbeats galloping toward them, and she looked back the way she and Lanther had come to see a patrol of centaurs cantering fast toward the center of the city. Their faces looked grim, and their hides were dark with sweat. They raced past without a glance, intent on their missi
on. Linsha guessed what that meant. The militia, scattered and distracted though it was, was making an attempt to regroup and plan their defense. She knew the Legion would be doing the same. Only Sir Remmik knew what the Solamnics would do.

  With everything in mind, Linsha damped down her arguments, bolstered her patience, and nodded to Lanther. She would do as he ordered because it was the wisest thing to do. As a wanted criminal, there was little she could do to help at this moment. If the people on the approaching ships proved to be enemies and a fight ensued, she would come out and do what she could defend this city. Meanwhile, she would bide her time and look for an opportunity to return to the labyrinth and reassure herself that Iyesta’s precious hoard of eggs was safe.

  Lanther spoke to the two men carrying the sedan chair then hurried away. The chair began to move again, slowly wending its way through increasing numbers of people in the streets. The population of Mirage, on the treacherous edge of shock and panic, was moving again. Some people grabbed whatever weapons they could find and hurried down to the waterfront to join the defenses that were being hurriedly thrown together. Others hastily packed a few belongings and made their way west or north to get out of the city. Visitors and traveling merchants also gathered their goods and hurried to leave a city that might be plunged in the midst of war at any moment. Older people, poorer people, and those with nowhere to go simply did what they could to prepare for what might come and retreated into the shelter of their homes.

  Linsha watched the activity in the streets through the slit in the curtain and felt her heart go out to the people of the Missing City. She had lived in a city under constant siege and had seen firsthand what panic could do. But where Sanction had a powerful lord governor, city walls, a moat of lava, a ring of volcanoes, and high mountains to help defend it, the Missing City had nothing. Parts of the city wall were still in ruins, the dragonlord was dead, and the lands beyond the city were mostly treeless, rolling, and easy to move across. There were no barriers to attack any longer. There was only the militia, the Legion, and the Solamnic Knights.

  The Legion safe house proved to be a small house on the southwestern side of the city just outside the Garden Gate, a newly repaired city gate in a large section of replaced wall. The house sat in an unobtrusive little neighborhood on a low hill overlooking the city, not far from the sea and only a short walk from several farms where olives, grapes, and wheat were grown and sheep grazed on the scattered meadows. Linsha did not like its isolation or its distance from the center of the city and the waterfront, but it had the advantage of being at the opposite end of the city from the Solamnic Citadel.

  She found the two-storied house already occupied by a staff of three older Legionnaires whose duty it was to care for any person the Legion decided should be kept safely out of sight for a while. In an Order where many of the members were deserters from either the Solamnic or Nerakan forces or had performed some task that angered a powerful enemy, the safe house was often in use.

  After several good-natured jibes about her courtesan dress, the three Legionnaires brought Linsha a basin and water for a simple washing and some used clothing in good repair to replace the flimsy pants and the gold embroidered corset and belt. She gratefully accepted their offerings and used a chunk of scented soap to wash her hair and as much of her body as she could reach with a wet cloth. She carefully piled Callista’s clothing aside to be returned to the courtesan with her thanks, and maybe a bottle of scent to ensure future goodwill. Callista, the girl who entertained the captain of the small city watch (among others), was one of Linsha’s favorite and most active informers.

  When she finished bathing, she pulled the clean clothes that smelled delightfully of herbs from their storage. There was a plain linen shirt, a short-sleeved over tunic dyed a rust brown, and soft leather pants. These clothes were much more to Linsha’s liking. All she needed now was a sword, a dagger, and the slim stiletto she liked to carry in her boot.

  She paused for a moment over the dragon scales and let the slender gold chain flow through her fingers. The bronze and the brass scales lay cupped in her palm like shining pools of metal. Iyesta and Crucible. These two dragons had befriended her, saved her life, and meant more to her than most humans. She could hardly bear the truth that Iyesta was dead. A great longing welled up in her to see Crucible again. Years ago, she had been cradled in his great legs, sheltered by his wings, and given the freedom to pour out every trouble in her heart to a caring ear. True, she had thought it had been a dream at the time, but later she had come to know Crucible and that feeling of friendship and comfort had never faded. She would give almost anything, short of life itself, to see him come winging down from the north to share her grief for Iyesta and to help her fight this growing chain of disasters. He would help her find the eggs, and he would know what to do about them if they had been abandoned.

  She sighed sadly and hung the chain back around her neck. Until she could find Varia, she had no way to send a message to Crucible, and even if she managed to get word to him, she knew he probably would not come. He had pledged his loyalty to Lord Bight, and he would almost certainly be helping with the defense of Sanction.

  That thought led to another that had concerned her since she fled the Citadel. Where was Varia? The owl was more intelligent than many humans and had the advantage of being able to hide in small places and listen. She surely would have known about Linsha’s arrest and the trial. So where had she gone? Why hadn’t she stayed? Sir Hugo said Sir Remmik had ordered her to be driven out or killed, but Linsha could not believe the Knights would do that, let alone be successful at it. Varia was fast and cunning, and she was a good-luck symbol to the Citadel. She would not allow the Knights to drive her off if she did not want to go. The puzzle confused Linsha and worried her. She needed Varia now more than ever, and the owl’s absence was one more trouble to plague her mind.

  Clean and clothed, Linsha went to the tiny kitchen in the house to talk to the Legionnaires. They fixed her a light meal and brought her cool fruit juice to drink, but they did not know what was happening in the city or at the waterfront. The isolation that gave them anonymity also made it hard to keep up on the latest events. Lanther would be coming soon, they promised-and Falaius, if he could make it.

  Linsha had to be content with that. She asked for weapons, but all they could give her was an old dagger with rust on the blade. She shoved it in her belt. It was better than nothing. She paced in the house and tried to help in the small vegetable garden in back to distract her mind. She helped feed the chickens and fix food for the evening meal, and all the time she could only see ships in her imagination and hordes of warriors flooding to shore to burn and kill.

  By the time evening came and the sun was settling into the west, Linsha was ready to slip out of the house and into the coming dark and find out for herself what was going on, in spite of the Knights’ patrols. Before she could find an excuse to absent herself, though, Lanther appeared at the door, his rugged visage lined with exhaustion and concern. He sank down in a chair at the small dining table and gladly took a mug of ale offered by one of caretakers. Linsha and the three Legionnaires sat down at the table with him, their expressions anxious.

  “The ships are out there,” he said without preamble. “About sixty-five by rough count. They are anchored in staggered rows around the bay, cutting off the harbor. Nothing can get past them.”

  “Who are they?” Linsha asked. “Have they made any demands yet?”

  “We don’t know who they are. I’ve never seen ships quite like them. They’re lean and fast-looking and rigged for the open sea. They fly no colors and have sent no delegations. There have been no demands, no requests, nothing. The ships just sit out there like they are waiting for something. We can see men onboard, and they are busy working on something, but we can’t tell what they are doing.”

  “Has anyone tried to make contact with them?” one of the three inquired.

  Lanther sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes.
“Oh, yes. The mayor sent an envoy out with a small escort to greet the strangers. They were all shot at close range by arrows and their boat set alight. None survived.”

  “So what is everyone doing?” Linsha said impatiently.

  Lanther began to tick off on his fingers. “Falaius has been named temporary lord governor because Iyesta is gone, and he and the Legion were here first. For now, he is in charge of the defense of city. The mayor was so distraught over the murder of his delegation that he has resigned and is packing to leave. The city council and the city watch declared martial law and turned over their authority to Falaius. The commanders of the militia and the dragon’s guard spent a good part of the day arguing with the Legion and the city council about who should be in charge, and the dragon’s guard finally decided they would stay at Iyesta’s lair and guard the premises. I’m not sure from whom.”

  He sounded disgusted, but Linsha was pleased to hear the dragon’s guard would still be watching the lair. That meant no one would make unauthorized visits into the tunnels to desecrate Iyesta’s body, steal the scales, or worse, find the eggs.

  She refilled his cup with the golden ale and pushed a plate of oat cakes to him. “What did the militia do?”

  “They fell in line. Finally. Dockett, the general of the militia, is a wise man who saw the wisdom of bowing to the inevitable.” He drank his ale then relaxed and grinned at his audience. “Falaius offered him the position of second in command. They have groups scattered all along the western borders of the city where they were keeping watch for Thunder and long-range patrols that need to be called in, and the general told Falaius that he had more men under muster in the city. Falaius is also a wise man. Our meager one hundred is hardly a match.”