our chances of getting to Cyrga alive aren’t very good.’
‘Lord Vanion!’ one of the knights cried out in alarm. ‘There
are more of them coming.’
‘Where!’ Vanion looked around.
‘From the west!’
Vanion peered after the fleeing monsters. And then he saw
them. There were two regiments of Klael’s soldiers out there on
the flats. The one they had encountered earlier was reeling and
staggering toward the hills jutting up from the horizon. The
other was coming toward them from the hills, and the second
regiment showed no signs of the exhaustion which had incapacitated
their fellows.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Talen muttered, examining the lock on his
chain with sensitive fingertips.
‘You said you could unlock them,’ Kalten accused in a hoarse
whisper.
‘Kalten, you could unlock these. They’re the worst locks I’ve
ever seen. ‘
“just open them, Talen,’ Sparhawk told him quietly. ‘Don’t
give lectures. We still have to get out of this pen.’
They had merged with the other woodcutters and had passed
unchallenged through the gates of Cyrga just as the sun was
setting. Then they had followed the slaves to an open square
near the gate, unloaded their cart onto one of the stacks of wood
piled there, and leaned the cart against a rough stone wall with
the others. Then, like docile cattle, they had gone into the large
slave-pen and allowed the Cynesgan overseers to chain them to
rusty iron rings protruding from the rear wall of the pen.
They had been fed a thin, watery soup and had then bedded
down in piles of filthy straw heaped against the wall to wait for
nightfall. Xanetia was not with them. Silent and unseen, she
roamed the streets outside the pen instead.
‘Hold your leg still, Kalten,’ Talen hissed. ‘I can’t get the chain
off when you’re flopping around like that.’
‘Sorry.’
The boy concentrated for a moment, and the lock snapped
open. Then he moved on, crawling through the rustling
straw.
‘Don’t get so familiar,’ Mirtai’s voice muttered in the darkness.
‘Sorry. I was looking for your ankle.’
‘It’s on the other end of the leg.’
‘Yes. I noticed that myself. It’s dark, Atana. I can’t see what
i’m doing.’
‘What are you men doing there?’ It was a whining, servile
kind of voice coming from somewhere in the straw beyond
where Kalten lay.
‘It’s none of your business,’ Kalten rasped. ‘Go back to sleep.’
‘I want to know what you’re doing. If you don’t tell me, I’ll
call the overseers.’
“you’d better shut him up, Kalten,’ Mirtai muttered. ‘He’s an
informer.’
‘i’ll deal with it,’ Kalten replied darkly. He slipped away
through the rustling straw.
‘What are you doing?’ the slave with the whining voice
demanded. ‘How did you –‘ The voice broke off, and there was
a sudden thrashing in the straw and a kind of wheezy gurgling.
‘What’s going on out there?’ A harsh voice called from the
overseer’s barracks. The barracks doorway poured light out into
the yard.
There was no answer, only a few spasmodic rustles in the
straw. Kalten was breathing a little hard when he returned to
his place, quickly wrapped his chain around his ankles again and
covered it with straw.
They waited tensely, butt the Cynesgan overseer evidently
decided not to investigate. He went back inside, closing the door
behind him and plunging the yard into darkness again.
‘Does that happen often – among slaves, I mean?’ Bevier whispered
to Mirtai as Talen was unchaining him.
‘All the time,’ she murmured. ‘There’s no loyalty among
slaves. One slave will betray another for an extra crust of bread.’
‘How sad.’
‘Slavery? I could find harsher words than sad.’
‘Let’s go,’ Sparhawk told them.
‘How are we going to find Xanetia?’ Kalten whispered as they
crossed the pen.
‘We can’t. She’s going to have to find us.’
It took Talen only a moment to unlock the gate, and they all
slipped out into the dark street beyond. They crept along that
street to the large square where the firewood was stacked and
stopped before stepping out into the open.
‘Take a look, Talen,’ Sparhawk suggested.
‘Right.’ The young thief melted away into the darkness. The
rest of them waited tensely.
‘It’s all clear,’ Talen’s whisper came to them after a few
minutes. ‘The carts are over here.’
They followed the sound of his hushed voice and soon
reached the line of wood-carts leaning against the wall.
‘Did you see any guards?’ Kalten asked.
‘Who’s going to stay up all night to guard a wood pile?’ Talen
dropped down onto his stomach and wormed his way under
the cart. There was a faint creaking of the tightly-woven limbs
of the makeshift basket. ‘Here,’ Talen said. A sword-tip banged
against Sparhawk’s shin.
Sparhawk took the sword, handed it to Kalten and then leaned down.
‘Pass them out hilt-first,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t poke me
with the sharp end of a sword that way.’
“I’ll try.’ Talen continued to pass out weapons and then followed
them with their mail-shirts and tunics. They all felt better
once they were armed again.
“Anakha?’ The voice was soft and very light.
“Is that you, Xanetia?’ Sparhawk realized how foolish the question
was almost before it left his lips.
yes,’ she replied. ‘Come away, I prithee. The whisper is
the natural voice of stealth, and it doth carry far by night. Let
%y ‘ere they who watch this sleeping city come hither in
of the source of our incautious conversation.’
“We’re going to have to wait a bit,’ Khalad said. ‘Aphrael has to
blow air into that cave.’
‘Are you sure this is going to work?’ berit asked dubiously.
‘No, not really, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?’
‘You don’t even know for sure that they’re still inside the
cave. ‘
‘That doesn’t really matter. Either way they won’t be able to
hide in the cave any more.’ Khalad began to carefully wrap a
length of oil-soaked rag around one of his crossbow bolts. Then,
being careful to conceal the sparks with his body, he began
striking his flint and steel together. After a moment, his tinder
caught, he lit his stub of a candle, and brushed the fire out of
his tinder. Then he carefully put the candle behind a fair-sized
rock.
‘Aphrael seems to be unhappy about this, Khalad,’ Berit said
as a chill breeze came up.
‘I wasn’t too happy about what happened to Lord Abriel
either,’ Khalad replied bleakly. ‘I had a great deal of respect for
that old man, and these monsters with yellow blood tore him
to pieces.’
“you’re doing this for revenge then?’
‘No. Not really. This is just the most practical way to get rid
of them. Ask Aphrael to let me know when there’s enough air
in the cave.’
‘How long is that likely to take?’
‘I have no idea. All the coal-miners who’ve ever seen it up
close are dead.’ Khalad scratched at his beard. ‘i’m not entirely
sure what’s going to happen here, Berit. When marsh-gas
catches on fire, it just burns off and goes out. Firedamp’s a little
more spectacular.’
‘What’s all this business about blowing air into the cave?’ Berit
demanded.
‘Khalad shrugged. ‘Fire’s a living thing. It has to be able to
breathe.’
‘You’re just guessing about this, aren’t you? You don’t have
any idea at all whether or not it’s going to work – or if it does, what’s
going to happen.’
Khalad gave him a tight grin. ‘i’ve got a good working theory.’
‘I think you’re insane. You could set the whole desert on fire
with this silly experiment of yours.’
‘Oh, that probably won’t happen.’
‘Probably?’
‘It’s very unlikely. I can just make out that cave mouth. Why
don’t I try it?’
‘What happens if you miss?’
Khalad shrugged. ‘i’ll shoot again.”
‘That’s not what I meant. I was -‘ Berit broke off, listening
intently. ‘Aphrael says that the mixture’s right now. You can
shoot whenever you’re ready.’
Khalad held the point of his crossbow bolt in the candle-flame,
turning it slowly to make certain that the oily rag was evenly
ablaze. Then he set the burning bolt in place, laid the forestock
of his crossbow on a rock, and took careful aim. ‘Here goes,’ he
said, slowly pressing the lever.
The crossbow gave a ringing thud, and the burning arrow
streaked through the darkness and disappeared into the narrow
cave mouth.
‘So much for your good working theory,’ Berit said sardonically.
Nothing happened.
Khalad swore, banging his fist on the gravel. ‘It has to work,
Berit. I did everything exactly -‘
The sound was beyond noise when the hill exploded, and a
ball of fire hundreds of feet across seethed skyward out of the
crater that had suddenly replaced the hill. Without thinking,
Khalad threw himself across Berit’s head, covering the back of
his own neck with his hands.
Fortunately, what fell on them was small gravel for the most
part. The larger rocks fell much further out into the desert.