by Simon Brown
“I can dispose of four of you in this confined space without much difficulty,” the Chett said, his tone almost bored.
“He’s right,” one of the mercenaries said. “Three of us can wait outside the alley while the other gets help.”
There were mumbles of agreement and they started to retreat. Because they kept their gaze on the Chett and Lynan, they never saw the two figures appear in the mouth of the alley behind them, one huge and the other somehow malformed. They heard the snick of steel sliding against scabbard, but before they could turn, three of them were savagely cut down. The fourth yelped, twisted to face the Chett, then desperately twisted again to meet the threat behind him. A giant shadow loomed over him. For a split second, light sparked off a sword swung high in the air before it was brought down so hard it split the mercenary’s head in two. Blood fountained into the air and what had been a face slapped into the dirt. Amazingly, what was left of the mercenary remained standing, his body teetering, the blade that had drunk his life lodged in bone and tendon. The giant twisted the sword and pulled it away. The dead man fell back against a wall and crumpled to the ground. His legs and arms twitched obscenely and then were still.
Another, slighter figure appeared at the end of the alley. “Lynan?”
Lynan took a hesitant step forward. He recognized the voice, and the shapes of the two swordsmen, but dared not believe it.
“Grief, your Highness, you’ve led us on a long run,” the giant said.
“Do you know these people?” the Chett asked.
In answer, Lynan ran forward. He jumped onto the giant, his arms wrapping around the broad shoulders, his hands slapping the back. “Oh, God, Kumul! Kumul!” Tears stung his eyes but he did not care.
The giant hugged Lynan in turn and lifted him off the ground. “I thought we had lost you forever, lad,” he croaked.
Ager and Jenrosa came up to the pair and added their weight to the huddle. They started springing up and down like children, backslapping and hugging.
The Chett looked on with an amused smile. “Well, that answers my question.” He cleaned and sheathed his knife and waited patiently until the celebration ended. When the four friends finally parted from each other, he said: “Migam. Lynan. Whatever your name is. You still have three pots to deliver.”
Lynan wiped his cheeks and nodded. “Yes, of course.” He looked up in sudden remorse. “I haven’t thanked you for defending me! I’m sorry, sir—”
The Chett waved aside his apology. “I am grateful for the opportunity of sticking one of Rendle’s mercenaries. Besides, Gudon would never have forgiven me if I let any harm come to you.”
“Rendle!” Kumul exclaimed in surprise. “He’s the bastard behind all of this?”
The Chett regarded Kumul with something like respect. “Indeed. I recognized him as soon as he arrived with his company.”
“Was Jes Prado with him?”
It was the Chett’s turn to look surprised. “Prado is riding with him? All the gods of earth!”
“You know Gudon?” Lynan asked.
“He’s waiting for you at my house.”
“So you are Kayakun,” Lynan said with something like relief.
The Chett bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”
“Who is Gudon, Lynan?” Kumul asked, frowning.
Lynan laughed. “I am sorry. This must be confusing for you.”
“To say the least.”
“Gudon was the pilot of the barge Prado stole. It was he who saved me from the man, and suffered great harm because of it. And Kayakun is Gudon’s contact here at the sooq.”
“Contact?” Kumul looked puzzled. “How does a barge pilot have a contact in the Strangers’ Sooq?”
“Gudon is a Chett as well.”
“Ah,” Kumul said. He still looked puzzled but asked no more questions.
Suddenly, Jenrosa gasped and reached out to touch the scar on Lynan’s jaw. “Lynan, what happened to you?”
“A present from Jes Prado,” he said.
“I’ll fillet the bastard,” Kumul said lowly.
“Come,” Kayakun said. “We must leave here. I will arrange for some of my people to clean up the alley. Captain Rendle will never know what happened to his men.”
Lynan picked up the pots. Kumul offered to take them, but Lynan refused. “It takes training to do this job properly,” he said, smiling.
Kayakun stopped at the mouth of the alley to make sure no one was keeping an eye out for them, then led the way onto the street. They had to go only a short distance before they reached one of the larger houses in the town. Instead of going through the front entrance, Kayakun took them to the back door, a solid piece of spray tree crisscrossed with iron bars. They entered a large kitchen. An iron stove along one wall warmed the room, and a long wooden table took up most of the space. Bustling servants came into the room. One took the pots from Lynan, another gathered their coats and cloaks, a third took Lynan’s tunic with Gatheras’ insignia and gave him a Chett shirt. Then Gudon appeared. He showed surprise at the unexpected crowd but quickly embraced Lynan.
“Truth, little master, did I not say you would be all right?”
“Truth,” Lynan admitted, then introduced Gudon to his companions.
“We have to thank you for looking after our friend the last few days,” Kumul said.
“It was my duty,” Gudon said simply.
For a moment the two men carefully regarded each other.
Kayakun invited them all to sit down. Servants brought clay mugs of spiced wine. Kayakun instructed them to take care of the bodies of the mercenaries in the alley. They left promptly.
“Bodies?” Gudon asked.
Kayakun quickly explained how they were followed by five mercenaries, their short conversation and the sudden appearance of Lynan’s friends.
“We were sitting in the tavern wondering how to make contact with Lynan,” Kumul explained, “when he walked by with Kayakun. Then we saw the mercenaries following them.”
Kayakun described the brief battle, taking obvious delight in the telling.
“That will leave Captain Rendle a neat puzzle,” Gudon remarked.
“So what happens next?” Kumul asked. He had vague notions about escaping at night from the sooq and heading west into the Oceans of Grass until they encountered a tribe with which they could find refuge. He hoped Lynan’s new friends could give them directions or advice about where to go.
“There is little we can do while the mercenaries are camped outside the sooq,” Gudon admitted. “But they cannot wait here forever. They must know that word of their arrival is already spreading to the tribes roaming nearby, and that a Chett war party will arrive to kill them. We remember Captain Rendle and what he and others like him did to our people before the Slaver War.”
“How long before such a war party arrives?”
“We cannot be sure,” Gudon said hesitantly.
“We cannot stay here,” Kumul said. “Even if Rendle leaves, he will leave agents behind, or inform those who wish Lynan harm. He may already have done so. It isn’t safe for us here.”
“He wouldn’t ransack the sooq, would he?” Jenrosa asked.
Kayakun shook his head. “Each of these houses is like a small fort. His force is not equipped for fighting in the confined space of streets and alleys, any more than we here are equipped to got out and meet him in the field.”
“Stalemate,” Ager said.
“Unless Rendle receives reinforcements,” Kayakun said. “There could be an army on its way here now from the east.”
There was an awkward silence. Ager cleared his throat. “Just how much do you know about Lynan and the situation in Kendra?”
“Everything,” Gudon said.
“You swear allegiance to the crown of Grenda Lear, and yet you are prepared to help Lynan? That would be counted as treason among some.”
“And yet you travel with him and protect him,” Gudon said.
“That is not an answer,” Ager ins
isted.
Gudon sighed. “I cannot explain all here and now, but I tell you that we Chett will never forget what Elynd Chisal did for us. Prince Lynan is his son, and will always be welcome among us even though every other people in the kingdom turn their backs on him.”
Gudon and Ager locked eyes for a second, then Ager nodded stiffly. “Good enough.”
“We are still left with the question of what to do after Rendle leaves the sooq—if he leaves,” Kumul reminded them.
“There is a way you can all be safe, and none of your enemies may find you,” Gudon said. “I will guide you myself.”
“Where is this place?”
“I did not say it is a place.”
“We have little time for riddles,” Kumul said darkly.
“I am not speaking in riddles, friend of Lynan, but you will have to wait and see. I may say no more about it. You will have to trust me.”
There was another unwelcome silence, then Lynan said: “I trust you, Gudon. I will come with you.”
Gudon regarded him solemnly. “I knew you would, little master.” He glanced at Lynan’s friends. “But what of your companions?”
Before either Ager or Kumul could reply, Jenrosa said: “If Lynan trusts you, so do I.” She glared at the other two. “And so do they.”
“Well, that settles that,” Ager said.
Kayakun slapped his hands together. “How good we are all friends, especially in this troubling time. Now I suggest—”
Before he could suggest anything, one of his servants reappeared and whispered something into his ear. His face became serious. His servant made to leave, but Kayakun called him back. “Bring food for our guests.” The servant bowed and left.
Kumul’s stomach growled at the mention of food. He looked apologetically at their host. “I have not eaten properly for a long time. None of us have.”
“That will be taken care of,” Kayakun assured him. “But now something even more important than food has come up. My servant reports that Rendle and his company are moving out, and they heard from some of the merchants that his men were talking about heading north, to Haxus.” He turned to Gudon. “As soon as they have left, you must go tonight, in case Rendle changes his mind.”
Rendle followed his men out of the sooq. At the first rise he halted with Eder and Prado and looked back. “How sure are you that the boy you saw was Prince Lynan?” he asked Prado.
“Your five men never returned. That should answer your question.”
“One day I will come back to this place,” Rendle said. “I will come back with a thousand troops and raze it to the ground.”
Prado sneered. “You really think the Chetts will let you live that long?”
Rendle ignored him.
“I had best go,” Eder suggested.
“You have your men ready?”
“Yes, exactly as you instructed. Twenty-five riders.”
“When you have finished your business, come straight to Kolbee.”
Eder nodded and left.
“All you need now is for Lynan and his friends to do exactly as you want,” Prado said mockingly.
Rendle caught Prado’s gaze and held it until the other flinched and looked away. “Lynan will flee the sooq. Whatever friends he has left know there is no true safety for him down there. Every day Lynan stays increases his chances of being assassinated, or stolen away again. Only out there on the Oceans of Grass will he truly be safe.” Rendle smiled tightly. “At least, that is what they think, and that mistake will be their undoing.”
Chapter 27
Lynan felt whole for the first time since being taken by Jes Prado. Around him were his friends, including Gudon. They were all fed, all mounted on fresh horses—six mares, all sisters—and all equipped with saddle packs filled with food and water, as well as a felt gorytos for Gudon, holding a reflex bow and a quiver of arrows. Lynan had his sword back, carried all the way to the Strangers’ Sooq for him by Ager. Well, not his sword, he reminded himself, remembering how he had won it in the encounter at the ford with Kumul, but a good weapon at least. And best of all he was rid of his clothes, worn thin and encrusted with grime, dirt, blood, and sweat. Kayakun had dressed them all in Chett garb, with linen trousers and shirts, heavy ponchos and wide-brimmed sun hats made from boiled leather. The only garment he had kept, stored in one of his saddlebags, was the green coat given him by the forester Roheth and carried all this way by Ager. Lynan had to admit they must have looked a strange sight getting ready to ride out of the Strangers’ Sooq in the middle of the night, with Kumul’s poncho barely covering his shoulders and Ager’s looking as lopsided as a drooping flower.
The moon overhead was nearly full and cast enough light to read by, so when Lynan took Kayakun’s hand and thanked him for all his help, he could easily see the lines of concern creasing the Chett’s face. Kayakun gave the full bow the Chetts seemed so fond of. “Travel well, your Majesty.”
Kayakun said brief farewells to the rest of the group, lingering only with Gudon, who leaned over his saddle so they could talk privately.
When they were finished, Gudon turned in his saddle to face the others. “We go now, my friends. Quickly as we can for the first hour. The farther away we are from the sooq, the safer we will be.” He waved to Kayakun and spurred his horse to a trot, the others following close behind.
As they left the sooq, Gudon picked up the pace. The horses fell into a ground-eating canter, their manes fluttering like pennants.
Lynan felt he was entering a dream world. If the Oceans of Grass had captured his imagination under the light of the sun, under the light of the moon they captured his soul. It no longer seemed like a vast plain covered in grass, but a real ocean with real waves. It seemed to him they rode godlike across water, and underneath he sensed the heartbeats of great creatures, solitary and somnolent, never disturbed by the goings-on of lesser creatures. Above him, the dark sky seemed like smoked glass embedded with glittering gems. Like the ocean, the plains had surges and troughs. Gentle hills rose and disappeared as they rode by.
At last, Gudon reined back the pace and the mares happily continued at a quick walk. As both riders and mounts recaptured their breath, Lynan started to hear the sounds of the plain. There were so many crickets chirruping that the sound became a single melody; above them, he could hear the occasional hooting of an owl and the flapping, skittering wings of bats. And then the call of a kestrel. For a moment that seemed perfectly normal. Kestrels flew above all the world’s oceans.
He pulled up his horse. For a moment the others rode on, unaware he had stopped; when they noticed he was no longer with them, they halted.
“What is it?” Gudon called back to Lynan.
Lynan motioned for them all to keep silent.
And there it was again. The call of a kestrel. He had not imagined it.
“I have never heard that sound before,” Gudon said. Using his left leg to support his weight, he stood in the stirrups to survey the sky and land around them.
“And you never will away from the sea,” Jenrosa added.
Lynan caught up with them. “Rendle?” he asked.
Gudon ignored the question and kneed his horse closer to Jenrosa. “Lynan tells me you are a magicker.”
“A student magicker.”
He put his hand in one of his saddlebags and retrieved what looked like slivers of diamond. “Can you cast?”
“I know the theory,” Jenrosa said warily.
He gave the slivers to Jenrosa. “These will help, but hurry. We have not much time.”
The urgency in his voice discouraged any more questions. She held up her palm to see better what Gudon had given her. Silvery translucent wafers shone softly with moonlight. She dredged from her memory the incantation for casting; it was one of the more ludicrous series of phrases, but she closed her hand around the wafers, shut her eyes, and recited the lines. Her hand tingled, but there was no finish, that relief that flooded through her when a magic was performed properly
. She breathed deeply and tried again, but with no more success. She opened her eyes and found Gudon staring straight into them.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Wait,” he ordered. He drew his short, bone knife from its sleeve behind his neck and used it to cut a long line in the palm of his hand. He placed his hand over her fist. “Now, try again.”
Jenrosa nodded, closed her eyes and started the incantation a third time. She felt the Chett’s warm blood creep over her fingers. As she recited the words they seemed to vibrate in her mind, grow in size. She opened her mouth and the words poured out like a river of water. She felt the wafers in her hand writhe and move, and would have let them go if Gudon’s own hand was not wrapped tightly around hers.
For the others, watching, nothing at all seemed to happen at first, but as the incantation grew in power and Jenrosa’s voice grew stronger, the air above her seemed to distort and waver. For an instant, Lynan thought he saw the shape of a huge wolf twist in the sky, but then the image was gone as quickly as it had formed and he convinced himself it was his imagination.
Jenrosa finished, the last word almost a shout, and a wave of exultation and exhaustion washed through her. She slumped in the saddle. Gudon held her up and forced open her palm. The wafers were all gone.
“Good. The cast was made. Help will come.” He looked up again to survey the terrain around them. “I only hope it will come in time.” He lifted Jenrosa’s head. “Are you well enough to ride?”
She nodded wearily, but to prove her point, she pulled away from him and sat erect in her saddle.
“Over there!” Kumul cried, pointing north. Between two low hillocks about halfway to the horizon they saw dark shapes flitter along the grass.