As he got closer, he saw crimson stains on the wet pavement, and he guessed what they were looking at. By the time he was standing next to the guards, he’d ascertained that the three dead fauns at their feet were in more than three pieces. One of the guards gestured into the pool. Jubal looked and saw more bodies—he couldn’t be sure how many. Another guard drew his attention to an oil-skin pouch, tied tightly around the neck of one faun. Jubal cut it free and opened it. The paper inside was dry. He unfolded it and read:
To Shadock Windar,
You have refused me audience, but you cannot refuse your citizens. They are coming to you as my messengers. My terms are unconditional surrender. You have until sunset tomorrow. If I have to pry you out, many in Danda-lay will not see the end of Lupricasia week.
—Her Majesty Sharon-zool of Kazar
Jubal refolded the note and put it back in the oil skin, taking care that his hands did not tremble before the anxious eyes of his command. He looked over them and selected the one who looked quickest—a youth of noble birth, if remarkably unfortunate appearance. He folded the note into the teenager’s moist palm, then leaned close to his ear and bellowed, “Deliver this to his majesty. To no one else! Tell him I would like a word with him.”
With the youngster hurrying away, Jubal took off his cloak and spread it on the ground, then motioned the guards to begin moving the bodies onto the cloak. He had them cover and wrap their own cloaks around the result. No sense terrifying every civilian we pass. He glanced back at the pool and the other bodies, bobbing like ghastly buoys. We’ll be all day fishing them out. Was it his imagination, or had the water taken on a faint red tinge? He thought of the all the shelts who took their bathing water from pipes that came directly from that pool. We won’t be able to keep this a secret for long.
* * * *
Sharon-zool peered into the Tiber-wan as an unlikely figure scrambled onto the quay beside her. He was short and muscular, less slender than a faun, but every bit as lithe. His sleek hair was silvered, not by age, but by nature. He had webbed fingers, and his legs were clawed and scaly. A thick tail hung down behind him. He wore a tunic of supple leather, loosely tied at the waist and dripping wet. The alligator shelt shook his head, sending water droplets flying. “We can do it,” he said. “Where there is water, there is a way.”
“Danthra, I hope you know that Kazar is depending on you. Do not disappoint us.”
Danthra laughed. “Or you’ll mangle me like those fauns? The army of Kazar would better employ its time worrying about its own fighting abilities. We lizard riders will do our part. Do you want us to go now? We can have you in before midnight.”
Sharon-zool shook her head. “Shadock has until this time tomorrow. He will not open to us, but we will wait all the same.”
Danthra’s toothy grin flashed white. “Is that your version of honor, majesty?”
She did not look amused.
“A jest! Only a jest. We lizard riders have no honor to worry about. When will we receive payment?”
Sharon-zool untied a large satchel from her belt. The heavy bag jingled as she laid it in Danthra’s hands. “As agreed. Many of the houses contain valuables. Take what you like, but keep your promise to me. On that point your honor is your life, Danthra Michweer.”
Chapter 3. Encounters by Night
As a child reaching for a spoon may seize a knife, so Corry and his companions found something both more useful and more dangerous than they sought.
—Archemais, A Wizard’s History of Panamindorah
For a full watch Corry and the tiger cubs followed the plank bridge into Kazar Swamp. They had been hiking all day and were very tired, but stopping for even a moment brought a cloud of biting insects. Around midnight Tolomy pulled up suddenly. “I hear something ahead.” Corry was surprised. The falling and rising cadence of frogs and insects made the night loud.
Leesha hesitated, sniffed, then nodded. “I hear it too. I feel it.”
Corry didn’t have to ask what they meant. He’d moved forward to place one foot on the next section of board, and the message came through his vibration sense. Something was walking towards them over the plank road. “We need to hide.” He looked around, knowing already there was only one possibility. “Quickly—over the side.”
“We might be able to climb higher,” suggested Leesha, but Corry shook his head. “I’m not a good climber. You two can try if you like.”
Tolomy lead the way down. Corry managed to grope out enough handholds to descend without falling into the waist-high grass below. Fortunately, the water only came to his calves. The cubs crouched in the water, exposing as little flesh as possible to the vicious insects. Only the prospect of spending the rest of the night hiking in wet underwear prevented Corry from doing the same.
In the gloom, he made out a shadowy line of figures passing across the slats overhead. They stopped just past the trio, and someone barked a command. A shelt dropped a rope ladder from the bridge, and the group descended. Once on the ground, they started away at a fast trot along what must have been a known trail. Soon they were no longer even a whisper among the noisy music of the swamp.
“Were they prisoners?” Corry wondered. “I thought I saw a chain.”
“They didn’t smell like fauns.” Leesha started towards the place where the group had left the plank road. After a moment, she called, “There’s solid ground here.”
Corry and Tolomy waded toward her. Leesha was sniffing the earth. “Smells like fauns and...something else.”
Tolomy joined her.
“If they’re prisoners—” began Leesha thoughtfully.
“They might lead us to where the fauns keep prisoners,” finished Corry. And, he added privately, they might lead us to water. They’d had a thirsty hike, and his water skin was low.
“If we’re to follow them, we’d better hurry while the trail is fresh,” said Leesha.
Tolomy looked at his sister. Corry could see the whites of his eyes flash in the gloom. “Into Kazar...in the dark...without a guide...without a trail?”
“We have a trail. Come on, put your nose to the ground and help me.”
* * * *
“Captain, what’s this about?” Shadock’s voice was smooth and formal.
He’s not even going to mention my earlier message, thought Jubal.
They were standing in one of the smaller audience chambers. Half a dozen advisors waited next door, but for the moment Jubal had gotten his wish: he had Shadock’s full attention.
“She sent it over the waterfall, Sire,” he said aloud, “tied around the neck of a faun.”
“Your messenger said as much; if that’s all—”
“The faun’s arms and legs had been cut off,” continued Jubal. “He was one of perhaps thirty. We haven’t recovered all of them yet. They appear to have identical notes.”
Shadock did not easily show surprise, but Jubal thought he was rattled. “This is a kind of terrorist tactic.”
“Yes. The fauns show no other signs of violence.” Jubal waited for Shadock to make the next jump.
“They were alive when she did this?”
“We think so,” said Jubal.
“In the name of all that’s sacred, why—?”
“To release the maximum amount of blood into the water. At least, that’s what I think.”
Shadock’s lips pressed together until the blood left them. You don’t know how to fight this, thought Jubal. You’re a courtroom warrior. You defend your country with policies, not swords. You thought staying out of the cat wars would mean you’d never have to face something like this. “Sharon spent some time with my chief engineer during the festival,” said Shadock at last. “She was so politely curious. Go and talk to him about which cisterns are fed directly from the pool. Its use should be discontinued for a time.”
Jubal nodded. And now to complete this happy interview. “There is another matter. We’re having some trouble chasing down all the bodies. All the...pieces. Fauns are b
eginning to ask questions. Many of them have family up there. What shall I tell them?”
This time, Shadock did not have to think. “Post guards to keep them away from the pool. Have the healers clothe the bodies and embalm them for burning before their families come.”
Shadock turned to leave, but Jubal could not repress the question that had pounded in his head all day. “Sire, about my message—”
Shadock turned, his eyes a studied blank. “Yes?”
Jubal wanted to slap him. Do you think this is revenge? Who are you hurting besides yourself and your city? “Never mind, Sire. I’ll see to those bodies.”
* * * *
Corry made no attempt to decipher the trail once they were off the boardwalk. Clouds and tree limbs hid the moons, and just staying upright amid the roots and water and slurping mud consumed his attention. Thorny vines whipped across his arms and face. He was muddy and bloody and itchy and so sleepy that the saw-blade grass was looking comfortable.
To make matters worse, Tolomy kept commenting that the trail was next to impossible to follow and he didn’t think they were on it anymore. Leesha persisted. Every time Tolomy proclaimed them hopelessly lost, she started up with, “Here’s a broken grass stem” or “Look at this clump of fur.” At one point she called them all to a patch of mud. “Isn’t that a paw print?”
Tolomy crouched in the gloom until his nose brushed the mark in question.
“Could the prisoners be wolflings?” asked Corry.
“That would make sense,” returned Tolomy, “even though I don’t remember hearing about many wolves this far west.”
“There ought to be claw marks if it’s a canine print,” said Leesha. “Wolflings can’t retract their claws.”
Tolomy studied the track again. “The mud must have covered them.”
“But the rest is so clear.”
“Maybe the fauns removed their claws.”
Leesha stood up with a growl and moved on.
Corry was too tired to invent theories about Leesha’s track. The blood-thirsty insects had started to gather. He had an idea that the horrible little things might go away at dawn, and then they could all sleep for a while. It was the only thing he could fix his thoughts on now.
And then the cubs lost the trail. This time even Leesha could not find a reason for saying otherwise. In vain they roamed in ever widening circles, looking for any clue. At last they stood still, shaking their ears at the insects, too exhausted and discouraged to move. The giddy erp-erp-erp-erp of the frogs seemed to mock them.
“I’m thirsty,” muttered Leesha.
“We drank the last of the water half a watch ago,” said Corry.
“We could cover ourselves in mud,” suggested Leesha. “That might stop the insects. Or we could lie down with everything underwater except our noses.”
Corry had thought of both these things, but some vestige of common sense remained. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to sleep in the open at night without anyone on watch. All kinds of creatures hunt in Kazar. Besides, we’ll only wake up thirstier and no closer to water.”
Leesha sighed. “So... We keep on moving until dawn?”
“I think we’d better. Maybe we’ll get lucky and stumble across a spring.”
They started off again, now with not even the pretense of a course—on and on through the noisy swamp. Corry started out of his waking dream when he nearly tripped over Tolomy, who had tripped over Leesha. She hissed and cuffed his ear. Looking beyond them, Corry could just make out a form in the shadows. The shape moved.
Leesha’s voice came out weak, but steady. “Who are you?”
“That depends,” came a soft male voice, “on who you are.” He was very tall for a faun and wore a cloak.
Leesha took a step back. “We are travelers. We were following a trail and got lost. Would you direct us to the closest faun settlement? We need fresh water and food.”
“Is it fauns you want,” asked the stranger, “or water?”
“Water,” said Corry immediately. “We can arrange payment if you take us where we can purchase provisions and lodging.”
A long silence. “Why did you come here?” asked the stranger at last.
Corry felt frustrated. He was about to speak when Tolomy jumped in. “We came to help someone. Stop playing with us, shelt. You clearly have plans for us. Do it and be done.”
Corry glanced at Tolomy. If he had been more awake, he might have guessed then what he learned later. In his groggy state, the idea fluttered and was gone.
“You came to help someone,” echoed the stranger. “Who?”
Leesha’s patience was at an end. “Why are you asking us all these questions when you haven’t answered any yourself. Who are you? Why are you here?”
“I’m a traveler.” Corry could hear the smile in the stranger’s voice. “And I am here to help someone.”
Leesha started to growl. “Who?”
“You. Come.”
Chapter 4. The Hedge of Thorns
It is the possibility of failure that makes the difference between leisure and adventure.
—Archemais, private reflections
The stranger moved quickly, leaving Corry and the cubs little time to consider anything except keeping pace. He stopped once for them to rest and to give them a welcome drink from his own water skin. When he noticed the cloud of insects gathering, he produced a dark jar of pungent oil. He poured some into his hand and whipped it over Tolomy’s fur and ears, then handed the bottle to Corry. “A little on your skin and clothes, then see to your shy friend.”
“I’m not shy,” growled Leesha, but she was staying well away from him. “You smell like something dead. You’re using that stinking oil to cover it up.”
Corry could discern no such smell, but he did not doubt that the cubs sensed something odd. Certainly, the oil must mask their guide’s natural scent.
“It keeps the blood-suckers away,” observed Tolomy. “They’ve stopped biting my ears.”
Just as dawn was beginning to touch the eastern sky, the stranger stopped again, this time at the foot of an enormous tree. He touched a place on the bark and a trap door fell open. “Rest.” Even Leesha was too tired to argue. They stumbled into a dark, but comfortable chamber with a carpet of soft, dry moss. No sooner had Corry put his head on the ground, than he was asleep.
* * * *
About midday Corry woke to a ray of sunlight and the smell of cooking food. The stranger’s head appeared in the doorway. By daylight, Corry could see that their guide had hair not quite as dark as his own, graying at the temples. He held out a piece of freshly cooked meat. To Leesha and Tolomy, only half awake, he handed two hunks of raw flesh. “Eat and go back to sleep.” He set a full water skin on the ground, together with several clay cups.
The trap door closed, leaving them in pleasantly dappled gloom. Corry drank and ate greedily. He had barely finished before his eyes drooped and he lay down to sleep again.
* * * *
When Corry woke the second time, the ray of daylight had grown hotter and yellower, and he knew it must be late afternoon. The cubs were already awake and had just finished the second meal their guide had left for them. “Nice flavor,” said Tolomy. “I can’t say that I’ve eaten it before. What do you think, Leesha?”
She cocked her head. “Reptile, maybe. It reminds me of an exotic dinner I attended with father in jaguar country. They served iguana.”
The opening of the trap door interrupted them. “Are you rested?” Their guide had thrown his hood back. Corry saw a face that might have been handsome once. Perhaps it still was, but in a sad way—the brow and mouth creased more by frowns than smiles. His eyes were cat-green in a beam of sunlight. “Ready to go again?”
“Yes, thank you.” Leesha was feeling more charitable today. “I don’t know how we can repay you.”
“You can’t.” The stranger withdrew his head.
Leesha scowled at the empty doorway.
“He’s only
being honest,” said Corry. “Let’s not fight today.”
Leesha pelted the stranger with questions as they started off, but he completely ignored her—a response, Corry thought, calculated to infuriate her. He soon left them with little breath for questions. His brown cloak melted into the swamp like butter into warm bread, and they were hard pressed to keep him in view. Corry had his wits sufficiently about him this morning to notice their guide’s trousers—something almost unheard of in middle Panamindorah—as well as moccasin boots. Corry saw no sign of a weapon.
A little after sunset, in the last blue light of evening, they came to a dense thicket of thorns. The wall rose well above the slouching trees, and the spikes were as long as tiger claws. Their guide led them along the hedge for some distance until they came to a stream, flowing swiftly from inside the wall of thorns. It looked deep.
The stranger waded to the center, where the water reached his armpits. “We must walk in the stream to get under the hedge,” he explained.
When Corry reached midstream, the water came to his chin. Tolomy hesitated. “It will be over our heads.”
“Oh, Tol, stop being a kitten.” Leesha plunged in, but she had to paddle back and forth to keep from washing downstream. The stranger reached out and caught her in his arms. Leesha hissed, unsheathing her claws against his shoulder.
“Softly, little sister. I don’t want you to drown. Get the other one, Corellian.”
Corry stared at the stranger, who had already turned his back. How did he know my name? I don’t remember telling him.
He caught Leesha’s eyes over the stranger’s shoulder. She was obviously thinking the same thing. She darted a glance at the stranger’s neck, only a hand’s breadth from her teeth, but Corry shook his head. He wanted to keep faith with their benefactor, but more than that, he had a sense of menace—an idea that, despite all appearances, their guide was armed.
The Prophet of Panamindorah - Complete Trilogy Page 27