Tia glanced at the horses warily when Reithan rode up towing the two other horses behind him. They were waiting a little out of town in a small clearing near the north road. Reithan dismounted when he reached them, handing the reins of all three horses to Dirk.
“The dun looks like he’s going to drop dead halfway there,” Tia complained, as Dirk began to inspect Reithan’s purchases.
“Which is why you’re going to have to ride him,” Dirk said, as he checked the shoes of the sturdy looking chestnut. “You’re the lightest.”
Tia glared at him suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s not because you’re hoping he will drop dead and I’ll break my neck when I get pitched to the ground?”
Dirk looked up and smiled faintly. “Well, there is that ...”
“Cut it out, you two,” Reithan ordered impatiently. “What do you think, Dirk? Are they worth what I paid for them?”
“How much did you pay?”
“Thirty-four silver dorns, but that included the saddles and the tack.”
“I think that horse thief saw you coming,” Dirk told him with a frown, and then he shrugged. “But they should survive the trip.”
“How far is it, anyway?” Tia asked.
“Eighty miles, give or take,” Dirk said, moving on to the dappled gray.
“Eighty miles?” she gasped in horror. “You want us to ride eighty miles in a day?”
“You could do it on foot in less than two days,” he informed her. “In theory.”
“How do you know that? Did you get bored one day and decide to work out how fast a man can walk?”
He looked at her as if she was just a little bit crazy. “I was born here, Tia. Don’t you think I’d know something like how long it takes to get from one end of my own island to the other?”
She hadn’t thought about that. She was so used to Neris working out strange things like how far a man could walk in a day, or how long it would take to bore a hole through a piece of granite using water drips, that she just assumed Dirk was fond of the same useless pastimes.
“We’ll have to pace the horses,” Dirk warned Reithan. “But we should be able to make it to Elcast Town before the second sun sets if nothing goes wrong.”
“Then let’s get moving,” Reithan suggested. “We’ve a long way to go, and we’re not gaining any time standing around here talking about it.”
“Good idea,” Tia agreed, taking the reins of the dun from Dirk. “And while we’re riding, Mister I’m-the-smartest-person-in-the-world here can do something really useful.”
“Like what?” Dirk asked, looking rather offended.
“Like coming up with a plan, Dirk,” she said, as she swung into the saddle. “Call me picky, but I just can’t help feeling I’ll be a lot happier about this heroic little adventure we’re about to embark upon if we’re actually still alive at the end of it.”
Tia’s prediction that the dun would drop dead halfway to Elcast Town proved prophetic. It did not actually drop dead, but it went lame about twenty miles from the town. They had ridden through the day, alternately walking and cantering the horses. As the second sun traveled slowly across the sky, they had walked the horses for longer and longer periods, their bursts of speed becoming shorter and shorter as the animals wearied. Tia was exhausted, sore, dirty and hot—almost as bad as the poor horse. She leaned against a nearby tree wearily, resting her foot on a small post sunk into the ground on the side of the road.
Dirk examined the horse with concern and turned to look at her. “He’s done for. You can’t ride him any farther.”
“What are we going do?” she asked.
“We’ll have to double up. And change horses as often as we can to ease the load.”
“How far is it to Elcast Town?” Reithan asked.
“Seventeen miles.”
“And I suppose you know we’re exactly seventeen miles from Elcast Town because you were born here?”
“No. I know we’re exactly seventeen miles from Elcast Town because you’ve got your foot on the mile marker,” he told her.
She snatched her boot from the post and looked down. Sure enough, carved into the weathered wood was the letter E, under which was carved the number seventeen. She looked up and glared at Dirk in annoyance. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t always look so smug when he managed to get one up on her.
Even Reithan managed a weary smile. “You walked into that one, Tia. Come on. You can ride with me for the first few miles.” He reached down and offered her his arm. They both grunted with the effort it took to swing her up behind him on the gray.
Dirk pulled the saddle from the lame dun’s back then slipped the bridle from his head and let the animal hobble away toward a patch of succulent grass on the verge. He piled the tack by the saddle, handed Tia her pack and glanced up at the sky with concern. “It’s going to slow us down, riding double. Perhaps I should ride ahead . . .”
“No,” Reithan declared flatly, surprising Tia with his determination. “We do this together or not at all, Dirk.”
Dirk looked as if he might object, then he nodded in agreement. “Let’s ride then,” he said, swinging into his saddle. “It’s almost second sunset. We’re running out of time.”
They reached the outskirts of the town about an hour and a half later. Dirk halted near a small crossroad. The intersecting track led down to the harbor, while the road they were on changed from a rough dirt surface to cobblestones. Dirk was riding a little ahead of Reithan and Tia. He hauled his mount to a stop, then turned and waited for them to catch up.
“This is where we part company.”
Reithan swung his leg over the gray’s neck and jumped to the ground as Tia slid forward in the saddle and picked up the reins. She had strung her bow a little way back and had it slung across her shoulder.
“Do you remember what I told you about finding the Outlet?” Dirk asked Reithan.
“I turn left about half a mile from the town off the road to the Keep.”
Dirk nodded. “Good luck.”
“You, too, Dirk. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“He won’t,” Tia promised on his behalf.
They both turned to look at her, and then Reithan shook his head. “Be nice, Tia.”
“Be careful, Reithan.”
He smiled. “I will. I’ll meet you back at the Outlet. Don’t be late.”
Reithan shouldered his pack and headed down the track toward the harbor without looking back. Dirk glanced at Tia. “This close to the Festival the town will be all but deserted, so we shouldn’t have any problems getting up to the Keep. Think you’ve got enough left in you for a gallop?”
“More to the point, have the horses got enough left in them?”
“Barely.”
She took a closer grip on her reins. “Let’s do it then.”
They cantered through the town and, as Dirk had predicted, there was barely another soul to be seen. Tia glanced around with interest as they rode, finding it hard to think of this place as Dirk’s home. It was so ... ordinary. The houses were neat, the town square bordered by a variety of shops—just like a score of other towns she had seen on islands all over Dhevyn. Then she glanced up and got her first sight of Elcast Keep.
Tia gasped at the sight of it. The massive, ancient Keep loomed over the harbor, its tall central tower reaching up eight stories and topped by a massive dome painted gold by the setting second sun. Dirk urged his horse into a gallop as they reached the other side of town where the road curved sharply and steeply around the bay. Tia glanced at the sky in the east. Was that a tinge of red on the horizon?
The Keep gates stood open and unguarded. Like an open mouth waiting to snap shut on us the moment we’re inside, she thought nervously. She knew this was a trap. Reithan knew it was a trap. Even Dirk knew it. The question now was whether they had anticipated the trap well enough not to be caught in it. They galloped through the gates and came to a halt before a set of broad granite steps that led to two massive bronze
doors in the central tower. The courtyard was deserted.
Dirk dismounted and turned to wait for Tia, looking around at the Keep with an odd expression on his face. It was more than two years since he had been home, she recalled. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he glad to be back? Maybe not, given the circumstances, but with Dirk it was hard to tell. He had one of those faces that betrayed nothing unless he wanted it to.
She dragged on the bit and brought her exhausted mount to a halt before jumping to the ground and unslinging her bow.
“Put that away,” Dirk ordered.
“You don’t know what’s waiting for us in there, Dirk.”
“Women and children, mostly,” he shrugged. “Everyone else will be down on the common.”
Dirk turned and took the granite steps two at a time. Tia was far too stiff and sore to do anything so agile. She followed him up the steps at a much more sedate pace and waited as he pulled the massive door open.
Tia stepped inside and looked up in amazement. One really didn’t get a sense of the size of the place until inside, dwarfed by the huge circular tower and the staircase that ringed it. It was as if the whole building had been bored out of living rock.
Dirk nudged her when he caught her gaping, and began to walk through the hall toward the high table on the other side. There were several women sitting at the tables talking among themselves. At one, a woman softly strummed a balalaika, at another, several small children appeared to be having a party. These were the children of the Keep, Tia guessed, deemed too small to attend the Festival. Their footsteps caught the attention of a plump blonde dressed in a plain but well-cut green dress. She looked up curiously, and then stiffened in shock as she caught sight of Dirk.
Now is when this all goes to hell, Tia thought. If she raises the alarm, we’re done for.
The girl hurried toward them.
“Hello, Faralan.”
She stopped a few paces from Dirk and studied him for a moment before she returned his greeting warily. “Dirk.”
“You’re married to Rees now, I hear.”
She nodded. “You shouldn’t have come. Antonov is waiting for you.”
“I know,” Dirk agreed calmly. “How many men has he got?”
“Several hundred at least. The woods and the Festival are riddled with them, and there’s more waiting here in the Keep.”
“Where are they?” Tia asked, looking around. There was nobody she could see but the women and children.
“They’ve orders to stay hidden until I raise the alarm.”
“Are you going to raise the alarm?” Tia asked.
“I have no choice,” the girl shrugged. She appeared to be genuinely sorry about it, but that was not going to help them much if she started screaming.
Dirk nodded in understanding. “How long can you give us?”
Tia’s attention was diverted by a sound she almost thought she imagined. She stilled, trying to filter out the sound of Dirk and Faralan talking, the balalaika and the chatter of the children at the table. She felt it as much as heard the sound in the distance, deep and rhythmic.
“Drums.”
Dirk and Faralan both stopped to listen.
“You must hurry, Dirk,” Faralan warned. “There’s not much time.”
He nodded. “Can you do anything about the guards here in the Keep?”
“She can’t,” a male voice behind them said, “but I can.”
Tia and Dirk spun around to find a portly old man with a gray beard and a fond smile on his face standing behind them. She had been so absorbed in listening for the drums, she had not heard him approach.
“Helgin!” Dirk cried, embracing the old man warmly.
“Now, now, enough of that,” the old man muttered, pushing him away. “The drums have started and you don’t have much time. But don’t worry about the Lion of Senet’s men here in the Keep. Most of them will be asleep until tomorrow morning. With luck a few of them won’t wake up at all.”
“You drugged Antonov’s guards?” Faralan gasped. “Master Helgin! How could you?”
Tia glanced up and noticed that the beams of sunlight crisscrossing the hall through the arrow-slit windows were reddening rapidly. “Dirk, we’re running out of time . . .”
“Go,” the old man urged.
“Antonov will kill you for this, Helgin.”
“My problem, Dirk, not yours. Now go!”
“Here,” Faralan added, picking up two masks from a discarded pile on the table near them. “You’ll need these.”
Dirk accepted them from her, and then clasped her hand for a moment. “Thanks, Faralan.”
She smiled. “Good luck, Dirk.”
They ran from the Hall without looking back. Outside, the drums were much louder, much more insistent, and the first sun was well and truly on the rise. Dirk ran toward the postern gate with Tia close on his heels.
The drums began to pound faster.
Chapter 34
They came for her just before first sunrise. Morna was composed and ready to die, and determined not to humiliate herself.
Ateway opened her cell door and stood back. He had a full escort waiting to take her to the common. Every man was Senetian, and not one familiar face among them.
“I have letters that I’d like distributed after I’m gone,” she informed the captain.
“I’ll see to it, my lady.”
She smiled at him. “You’ve been very considerate, Captain Ateway. I do appreciate it.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
Lifting her chin proudly, she stepped out of the cell and was immediately surrounded by the waiting guards. She felt so small, yet oddly, so important.
Ironically, the next hour might prove to be the most memorable of her life. Until she passed from this world, every eye on Elcast, and many other places in Dhevyn and Senet, would be fixed on her. Antonov was taking a huge risk in executing her. There had not been a member of a Dhevynian ruling family executed for treason since the end of the War of Shadows. To do it at the Landfall Festival, to associate her death so closely with the High Priestess, was doubly dangerous. Hopefully, her death would stir up resentments long thought buried; fears that had been dormant for years. The thought gave a small measure of comfort.
I achieved so little in my life—it would be nice to think that at least my death might prove useful.
The guard escorted her on foot to the common, the wall of leather and steel keeping her hidden from the view of her people. My people? They were Wallin’s people, not mine. They tolerated me for his sake. Her death might stir up political turmoil, but except for a few, like Welma and Helgin, she realized she had no friends who would genuinely grieve her passing.
Is this what they mean when they say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die? She didn’t like the feeling at all. Morna did not wish to be reminded of the mistakes she had made.
It took the best part of an hour before they reached the common. The second sun was almost completely set by then and the drums had started pounding. Morna had always hated that sound but now, when the drums did nothing but herald her impending death, she found she welcomed them. It meant that it would be over soon.
Morna had a plan. She knew that if she could inhale sufficient smoke, she would pass out quickly and avoid the worst of the pain. All she had to do was breathe, as deeply and as fully as possible. She steadfastly refused to think of the flames.
And she would not scream. She was determined about that. Antonov and Belagren might enjoy watching her burn, but they were not going to have the satisfaction of seeing her reduced to a screaming, sobbing wretch, begging for mercy.
She would breathe deeply, look them in the eye, and let the smoke take her.
The people were masked by the time she was led to the post on top of the pyre representing the second sun. The decorative masks of the celebrants were not a very effective disguise, and she could make out Rees’s curly dark hair as he stood there uncomplainingly as
they tied his mother to the stake. The mask he wore covered only his eyes, and formed the head of a bird. The beak protruded out over his nose and the feathers over the eye-holes glinted red in the ruby light of the evening sun. The mask had been a gift from Antonov the first year he came to Elcast.
Rees shouldn’t even be here, Morna thought. He’s married now. Does he hate me so much that he wants to watch me burn?
The young Duke of Elcast stood a few paces from Tovin and Lanon Rill. The governor’s son looked away uneasily when she caught his eye. How strange that my own son is so keen to see me die, but the son of a Senetian nobleman has the decency to feel guilty about it.
She looked around for Antonov. His mask was made of gold-tipped white feathers. With his customary vanity, it perfectly matched the gold embroidery on his white jacket. He met her gaze without flinching, and then looked away, scanning the crowds, looking for someone.
He’s looking for Dirk, she realized. Oh, please, if there really is a Goddess, keep my son away from here tonight.
The drums grew more insistent and the crowd separated into two circles, men in the inner circle, women forming the outer, encircling the wicker suns. By the altar, where a large bowl filled with dark liquid sat ready and waiting, Belagren stood, her expression smug, as she gave the signal for Ella, Madalan and a male Shadowdancer Morna did not recognize to pass out the small silver cups. Morna noticed there were many more men in the crowd than normal. They were masked as if they were part of the Festival, but they were armed, and few of them let the silver cups do more than touch their lips before passing it on.
Please, Dirk, be far from here tonight. Don’t try to save me.
Eye of the Labyrinth Page 21