Then Elron came hurrying across the crowded square.
‘Krager!’ he said in a shrill voice. ‘Come at once! Lord Scarpa’s
in a rage. he’s commanded us all to meet him at headquarters
immediately!’
‘What’s the matter?’ Krager rose to his feet.
‘Cyzada just came in from Cynesga. He told Zalasta and Lord
Scarpa that Klael went to have a look at the fellow we’ve been
following all this time! It’s not Sparhawk, Krager! Whoever it is
looks like Sparhawk, but Klael knew immediately that it’s somebody
else!’
CHAPTER 16
‘I know it’s him, my Lady,’ Alcan insisted.
‘Alcan, dear,’ Ehlana said gently, ‘he doesn’t look the least
bit like Sir Kalten.’
‘I don’t know how they’ve done it, but that’s Kalten out there
in the street,’ the girl replied. ‘My heart sings every time he
walks by.’
Ehlana peered through the little opening in the window. The
man looked like an Elene, there was no question about that, and
Sephrenia was a magician, after all.
The thought of Sephrenia filled the Queen’s eyes with tears
again. She straightened, quickly wiping her eyes. ‘He’s gone
by,’ she said. ‘What makes you so sure, dear?’
‘A thousand things, my Lady – little things. It’s the way he
holds his head, that funny way he rolls his shoulders when he
walks, his laugh, the way he hitches up his sword-belt. They’ve
changed his face somehow, but I know it’s him.’
‘You could be right, Alcan,’ Ehlana concluded a bit dubiously.
‘I could probably pick Sparhawk out of a crowd no matter whose
face he happened to be wearing.’
‘Exactly, my Lady. Our hearts know the men we love.’
Ehlana began to pace the floor, her fingers absently adjusting
the wimple that covered her head. ‘It’s not impossible,’ she conceded.
‘sparhawk’s told me about all the times he disguised
himself when he was in Render, and Styric magic might very
well be able to change people’s faces. And of course, if Sephrenia
hadn’t been able to do it, Bhelliom certainly could have. Let’s
trust your heart and say that it is Sir Kalten out there.’
‘I know it is, my Lady.
‘It does stand to reason,’ Ehlana mused. ‘if Sparhawk’s somehow
found out that we’re here, he’d most definitely want to have
some of our friends close by when the rest of them come to
rescue us.’ She frowned as a thought came to her. ‘Maybe he
doesn’t know for sure, though. Kalten might just be here to look
around. We have to come up with some way to let him know
that we’re here before he gives up and moves on.’
‘But we’re imprisoned, my Lady,’ the girl with the huge eyes
protested. ‘if we try to call out to him, we’ll put him in terrible
danger.’ She bent and looked out at the street again. ‘He’s
coming back,’ she said.
‘Sing, Alcan!’ Ehlana exclaimed suddenly.
‘What?’
‘Sing! ‘if anyone in the whole world would recognize your
voice, Kalten would!’
Alcan’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘He would!’ she exclaimed.
‘Here. Let me watch his face. Sing your soul out, Alcan! Break
his heart!’
Alcan’s voice throbbed as her clear soprano reached effortlessly
up in aching song. She sang ‘My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Boy’,
a very old ballad which Ehlana knew held special significance
for her maid and the blond Pandion. The Queen looked out
the window again. The roughly dressed man in the street was
standing stock-still, frozen in place by Alcan’s soaring voice.
All doubt vanished from Ehlana’s mind. It was Kalten. his
eyes streamed tears, and his expression had become exalted,
adoring.
And then he did something so unexpected that Ehlana was
forced to revise her long-held opinion about his intelligence. He
sat down on the mossy cobblestones, removed one shoe, and
began to whistle an accompaniment to Alcan’s song. He knew.
And he was whistling to let them know that he knew! Not even
Sparhawk could have responded so quickly, or come up with
so perfect a way to convey his understanding of the situation.
That’s enough, Alcan.’ Ehlana hissed. ‘He got our message.’
Alcan stopped singing.
What are you doing there?’ one of the Arjunis who guarded
the door demanded, coming into view.
‘Stone in my shoe,’ Kalten explained, shaking the shoe he’d
just removed. ‘It felt like a boulder.’
‘All right, move on.’
Kalten’s altered features took on a truculent look. He pulled
his shoe back on and stood up. ‘Friend,’ he said in a pointed
sort of way, ‘you’ll be getting off guard-duty before very long,
and you might just decide to stop by Senga’s tavern for a few
tankards of beer. I’m in charge of security there, and if you start
pushing me around here, I might just decide that you’re too
rowdy to be served when you get there. Understand?’
‘i’m supposed to keep people away from this building,’ the
guard explained, quickly modifying his tone.
‘But politely, friend, politely. Every man in this whole place
is armed to the teeth, so we all have to be polite to each other.’
Kalten threw a guarded glance at the barred window from which
Ehlana watched. ‘I learned politeness when I took up with Shallag you
know him, don’t you? The one-eyed fellow with the
lochaber axe?’
The guard shuddered. ‘is he as bad as he looks?’ he
asked.
‘Worse. He’ll hack your head off if you even sneeze on him.’
Kalten squared his shoulders. ‘Well, I guess I’d better be getting
back to the tavern. As my friend Ezek says, “Tain’t hardly likely
that I’ll make no profit lollygaggin’ around in the street.” Come
on by the tavern when you get off work, friend. I’ll buy you a
tankard of beer. ‘ And he went off down the street, still whistling
‘My Bonnie Blue-Eyed Boy’.
‘Treasure him, Alcan,’ Ehlana said, her heart still soaring, ‘and
don’t let that face deceive you. He gave me more information in
two minutes than Sparhawk could have in an hour.’
‘My Lady?’ Alcan looked baffled.
‘He knows that we’re here. He started to whistle along while
you were singing. He also told me that Sir Bevier and Caalador
are here with him.’
‘How did he do that?’
‘He was talking with the guard. Bevier’s probably the only
man in Daresia right now with a lochaber axe, and his other
friend sounds just like Caalador. They know we’re here, Alcan,
and if they know, Sparhawk knows. We might as well start
packing. We’ll be leaving here shortly and going back to
Matherion.’ She laughed delightedly and threw her arms round
her maid.
Kalten tried very hard to keep his face expressionless as he
walked back along the moss-covered streets toward Senga’s
tavern, but the excitement kept bubbling up in him, and it was
very difficult to keep from laughing out loud.
Scarpa’s army had cleared the northern quarters of Natayos
and restored the buildings there to some degree of habitability
when they had first arrived, but most of the city was still a vine-choked
ruin. Senga had considered several possible sites for his
tavern and had rather shrewdly decided to set up operations some
distance deeper into the old city to avoid interference from officious
sergeants or junior Elene officers with deep convictions and
not much sense. He had chosen a low, squat building with thick
walls but no roof, a deficiency easily overcome with tent-canvas.
He had considered hiring off-duty soldiers to clear the brush out
of the street leading from Scarpa’s main camp to the tavern door,
but Caalador had persuaded him to save his money. ‘Then ain’t
no need, Senga,’ the disguised Cammorian had told the harried
businessman, reverting to his dialect. ‘Them thirsty soldiers’ll
clear the street fer us then very own-selfs ‘thout no money
changin’ hands a-tall.’ The tavern crouched in the ruins, indistinguishable
from nearby buildings except for its canvas roof and
the crudely lettered sign reading ‘Senga’s’ out front.
Kalten entered the tavern through the side door and paused to
let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light. The place was moderately
crowded, even at midday, and the six aproned outlaws from
Narstil’s camp hustled back and forth behind a rough plank
counter, drawing foamy beer and collecting money.
Kalten pushed through the noisy crowd, looking for Bevier
and Caalador. He found them sitting at a table on the near side
of the room. Bevier’s sawed-off lochaber and Caalador’s stout
cudgel lay in plain sight on the table as a sort of constant
reminder to the assembled revelers that while having a good
time was encouraged, there were strictly enforced limits.
Kalten carefully lowered himself onto the bench, keeping his
exuberance tightly bottled in. He leaned forward, motioning his
friends closer. ‘They’re here,’ he said quietly.
Caalador looked around the tavern. ‘Wal,’ he drawled, ‘not
quite all of ’em, but most likely ever’body who’s off-duty.’
i’m not talking about this crowd, Ezek. I’m talking about the
house with the barred windows. The people we’ve been looking
for are definitely inside that house.’