Lightning's Daughter

10

Several days after leaving Reidhar Treld, the travelers abandoned the caravan trail and struck across country for Calah. The traffic on the caravan route had in. creased with every passing league until the party found it impossible to avoid detection. At Khan’di’s urging, they left the easy trail and sought a faint, seldom-used path that was shorter and much rougher than the caravan route.

Here the grasslands and meadows gave way to higher hills, rock-strewn valleys, and thicker woods of oak, juniper, and pine. The tall prairie grass was replaced by brambles, brush, and vines. The Ramtharin Plains had come to an end in the Redstone Hills, the boundary between the grasslands of Valorian’s clans and the rich farmlands and forests of the kingdom of Calah.

The travelers pushed on as fast as they could, the warmer winds of advancing spring coming swiftly on their heels. The closer they drew to Pra Desh the more Khan’di urged them on. He knew if the Fon stayed with her original plan for the invasion of Ponaoe, the party would arrive in Pra Desh with very little time to spare. There was also the possibility that the Fon had changed her plans or plotted some new outrage for the city. Khan’di had been gone from Pra Desh for over two months, and he was frantic to get home to lay plans of his own.

Gabria, too, felt the urgency of the passing days. The memory of the terrible vision played in her memory time and again, driving her on toward Pra Desh like a goad in the hands of an unseen but brutal taskmaster.

One afternoon, as she rode Nara along the rugged slopes of the Redstone Hills, Gabria thought again about her confrontation with Branth. She was not looking forward to that encounter. With luck and some cunning of their own, the company might be able to find the renegade chieftain and slip him out of the city before the Fon realized he was gone. Unfortunately, Gabria could not pin her hopes on things going that easily. Branth’s magical powers were not only the Fon’s greatest weapon, but her greatest peril, as well. She was certain to have him imprisoned and guarded like a dangerous animal.

Gabria allowed herself a sigh. She was not ready for this confrontation. She had learned the basic skills of sorcery from the Woman of the Marsh in a hurried lesson that had lasted only two days. There had been no time to practice or prepare before she’d met Lord Medb for the duel, and her victory over him had been founded on tenacity and luck. Since that time she had only been able to practice during the months of her banishment—months that now seemed brief indeed. To all intents and purposes she was still an apprentice. Yet everyone expected her to face a sorcerer who was better prepared and had the Book of Matrah.

She shot a look at Athlone and Sayyed on the trail ahead of her. It was too bad she did not feel ready to teach them the rudiments of sorcery. Athlone had the strength to wield his talent well. Gabria did not know about Sayyed’s natural abilities, but if his determination and personality were any indication, he could be as powerful a sorcerer as Athlone. If only she felt capable enough to teach them!

Her thoughts were still on sorcery and the future when the party crossed over a high, craggy ridge into the kingdom of Calah and looked down on the valley of a broad river.

“There is Pra Desh,” Khan’di told his companions, pointing down the valley to the south. The city was still leagues away, but from their vantage point, the travelers could make out the high towers, the white walls, and the vast harbor of the huge city.

The river in the valley, the Serentine, flowed from the forests far to the northwest. It ran east across the northern plains, past Amnok Treld, Bahedin Treld, and three of the Five Kingdoms, gaining substance and changing from a tumbling stream to a wide, majestic river. At the end of its long journey, the Serentine swept past the feet of the Redstone Hills and into the finest natural harbor in the Sea of Tannis.

Here, at this propitious meeting of river, land, and sea, the people of Calah built their capital and nourished it into the richest and most powerful maritime city on the Tannis. Their fleet controlled the northern and western coasts and roved the sea to its farthest reaches. The merchants of Pra Desh traded everything in the known world from raw materials such as grain, timber, and ore to livestock, slaves, and finely wrought crafts. They shipped silk, wool, and cotton, jewelry, spices, wines, pottery, weapons, and carpets. They brought anything that could be bought to the marketplaces of Pra Desh and filled their coffers with the gold coins of many realms.

After a moment, Khan’di pointed to the right, and the travelers saw where their path wound down out of the hills to the valley and joined the caravan route as it paralleled the river to the city. They rode on to the last heavily wooded hill before the path dipped down to the open farmlands. There, Khan’di led the party into the shadows of the trees.

He turned his horse around and addressed the others. “Pra Desh is only three leagues away, and I want to get you into the city unnoticed. The Fon’s spies are on every street of Pra Desh and at every gate. They have orders to report anything unusual.”

Gabria sadly ran her hand down Nara’s neck. She knew what she was about to say would be painful, but she had thought about it for days and there was no other way to maintain the party’s anonymity. “We will have to leave the Hunnuli,” she said quietly.

Khan’di bowed his head to her in mixed respect and relief. “Lady Gabria, you have saved me the pain of asking that favor. Unfortunately, there are no other Hunnuli in my country, and as far as anyone knows the only one in the clans belongs to the great Corin sorceress. You would not be safe for long on the streets of Pra Desh.”

The young woman nodded unhappily. Although she had made the suggestion, the thought of leaving Nara behind made her very uncomfortable. “Do you mind?” she asked the black mare.

Of course I do, Nara answered. Leaving you goes against everything I am. But you are right. It must be done.

If you really need us, we will come, Eurus added.

“Thank you,” Gabria replied.

“All right,” Khan’di said. “Listen. We will separate here. I should not be seen with clansmen. It might also be best if you split up and enter the city in small groups.” He dismounted, found a stick, and drew a detailed map in the ditto

“This is the Serentine River,” he explained to his listeners, pointing to the relevant marks with his stick. “This is the harbor; this, the Redstone Hills. Here is the old city wall on the west side of the river. It extends around the Fon’s palace here on Second Hill, the temple of Elaja on First Hill, and the older residential districts, warehouses, and merchant offices. This is the arsenal where the Fon’s guards live and the weaponry is stored.

“The city, of course, has long outgrown these walls, and you will find the markets, the auction houses, and the shipwrights’ yards here, here, and here.” He pointed to each spot on his map. “The rest of the city spreads out this way to the north along the river and up the slopes of the hills. The land to the east is swampy and often floods. Only the poorer peasants, criminals, and runaway slaves live there. Do you understand so far?”

The fascinated clanspeople nodded in unison.

“Good. Now, there is a row of warehouses here in the old city. Follow this caravan road through the gate called the Sun Door. If you look for the tall buildings with the different colored flags on their towers, you will find the warehouses. Go to the fifth one in the row. It is a wool house and will be flying an orange flag. There is a wooden sheep hanging above the doors. Go there and wait for me. Do not wander around. Do not ask questions.”

“What will you be doing?” Athlone demanded.

“Seeking information.” Khan’di’s heavy face broke into a scheming grin. “I have spies on every street, too.”

“Whose warehouse is it?” Piers asked coldly.

“My cousin’s. He pretends to be a supporter of the Fon, but he has been helping me.” The Pra Deshian actually rubbed his hands together and chuckled. It was obvious he was delighted to be back in the midst of the intrigue and political scheming.

“What do we say if we meet anyone at the warehouse?” Gabria asked.

“Say nothing.” He glanced at the sun through the tree branches. “By the time all of you get there, the warehouse will be empty except for my cousin. He usually works late. He will know who you are.”

Athlone grunted. “Do you trust this man?”

“Totally. His daughter is my son’s wife. He knows what I will do to her if he betrays me.”

The travelers were quiet for a time as they studied Khan’di’s map. The Pra Deshian mounted his horse. “Remember. The fifth warehouse.” He spurred his horse back to the path.

“Be careful, Khan’di Kadoa,” Gabria called after him.

He glanced back, hiding his pleasure at the concern in her voice. “You, too, Sorceress.” Reluctantly Athlone, Gabria, and Tam dismounted from Eurus and Nara. The chieftain wiped out Khan’di’s map with a leafy branch while the others unloaded one of the packhorses and secreted most of the traveling gear and tents in a dense thicket.

Gabria was wearing her riding skirts that afternoon, so she brought out a long, cotton scarf and wrapped it like a veil over her head and across her mouth and nose. In her travel-stained garments, she would pass as a simple clanswoman. While she gathered a few belongings out of the packs for herself and Tam, someone bumped into her. Gabria turned and came face to face with Athlone.

The chief was as dirty and travel-worn as she and still bore the evidence of his recent battle. His face had lost its swelling and he could see out of both eyes, but the bruises were colorful shades of blue, green, and yellow.

Gabria decided his bruises and his newly sprouted beard gave him a raffish look. Hesitantly she touched his arm. “You look like a border ruffian,” she teased.

For a moment, he almost gathered her in his arms. He turned toward her, lifting his hands to caress her face, then he saw Sayyed standing close behind her with a strange glint in his black eyes. Athlone’s impulse faltered in a rush of renewed doubts. His hands fell back to his sides.

To hide his confusion, he patted Eurus, then swung up on his gray stallion. “Mount up, you motley plains rats. Let’s ride.” His warriors grinned at him and sprang to obey.

“Bregan, you and I will ride with Lady Gabria. Piers, you go with Tam, Sayyed, and Secen. You two,” Athlone said to the last warriors, “are on your own. Go first. Don’t get lost and don’t stop to chase the women.” The two warriors saluted and trotted out of the woods.

Gabria threw her arms around Nara’s neck. The world suddenly shimmered through the blur of her tears. “By Amara, I am going to miss you,” she whispered to the mare.

Nara gently pressed her head against Gabria’s back, enfolding the woman in the curve of her neck. And I you.

“I don’t want to do this. It doesn’t feel right.”

I will be close. You only have to call.

Gabria sniffed and smiled lopsidedly. “Like in the marshes?” she asked, remembering that awful day she’d been forced to leave Nara behind to seek the Woman of the Marsh alone.

Yes, but this time you have friends with you. Trust them. They love you. I will be waiting when you are ready for me.

Gabria nodded. Lovingly she traced the white lightning mark on Nara’s shoulder before she patted her again and stepped away. A sharp nudge almost knocked her over. She twisted around and found the foal nearly stepping on her feet, Tam hanging onto his wispy mane. Treader sat beside her, his ears drooping.

“Good-bye to you, too, little fellow,” Gabria said.

The colt whinnied shrilly in reply.

Gabria was about to take Tam’s hand, but the girl’s stricken expression made her pause. The child’s dark eyes were huge, and a trail of tears had blazed tracks through the dirty smudges on her cheeks.

She doesn’t want to leave us, a light, childlike voice said in Gabria’s mind.

The sorceress started in surprise; this was the first time the colt had sent his thoughts to her. She knelt by Tam. “You must understand,” she said to the girl, “we are going to a big city. We cannot take the Hunnuli. It would be too dangerous for them, and for us, as well.”

Treader barked. She thinks she’ll never see the horses again if she goes away.

“They will wait for us,” Gabria explained patiently. “When we return from the city, they’ll come down from the hills and greet us.” She took Tam’s chin and lifted her head up until the girl had to look at her. “All you’ll have to do is whistle and they’ll come.” She smiled. “You can whistle, can’t you?”

The little girl grinned through her tears and nodded.

She wants to know if we will be gone long, Treader growled.

“No. Only a few days. All right?”

The colt bobbed his head, Treader woofed loudly, and Tam let go of the Hunnuli’s mane to take Gabria’s hand.

“That was some conversation,” Athlone remarked as Gabria settled Tam on Piers’s horse.

“Do you know what’s really amazing? Tam never once opened her mouth. She can send her thoughts to these animals just like the Hunnuli do.”

“Good gods,” Athlone exclaimed. “Is that a natural part of her talent or something she learned to do?”

“I don’t know,” Gabria said. “I hope we can find out one of these days. It certainly is a useful ability.”

The little girl sniffed loudly and wiped her nose on her sleeve, then she waved good-bye to the Hunnuli and settled comfortably against Piers’s back.

Gabria touched the healer’s knee. During their preparations he had sat on his horse without speaking or moving. Now, as he glanced down at Gabria, she was startled by the haunted expression on his face. His normally pale skin was deathly white; his thin features were pulled tight with tension. His hands were clenched around the saddle horn.

“Are you all right?” Gabria asked worriedly.

He nodded and drew a long, ragged breath. “I did not expect to feel my memories so sharply.”

Gabria understood completely. “Face them,” she whispered, “and you will find they are only ghosts.” She waited while the healer considered her words, then he relaxed a little and took his hands off the saddle horn.

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you at the warehouse.” He reined his horse around, and he, Tam, Sayyed, and Secen took the two’ remaining packhorses and rode off through the trees. Treader ran ahead of them.

Reluctantly Gabria threw an extra saddle blanket over the withers of the pack mare and mounted. It felt so strange to sit astride such a small, thin horse. She gathered the reins and cast one last look at the Hunnuli, then she followed Athlone out of the trees and back to the path without a backward glance.

Before long, they trotted their horses over the last rise and down into the fertile Serentine Valley. Here, this close to the sea, the valley was so wide that the travelers could barely make out the hills on the opposite side. The land was so fertile almost every square acre was used for crops, pasturage, or vineyards. Huts, cottages, barns, sheds, farmhouses, and outbuildings of every kind were scattered on both sides of the river. The closer the riders drew to the city, the more numerous the Cottages and houses became. Inns, hawkers’ stands, and shrines appeared along the road. The caravan trail soon changed to a stone-paved road as other trails and paths met and joined it.

The flood of people, carts, wagons, and animals on the road increased with every step closer to Pra Desh. Gabria and her companions had seen several caravans and small groups of riders on their journey, but they were not prepared for the crowded, swarming populace that lived in Pra Desh. The clanspeople had never been to a city this size, and the largest group of people they had ever seen in one place was at their own clan gatherings. This city was mind-boggling. Even Piers, who was a native Pra Deshian, had lived on the open plains long enough to be taken aback by the throng that rushed purposefully back and forth. They crowded into the markets, crushed into the streets with a seemingly endless tangle of animals, pedestrians, and conveyances, and shouted, sang, talked, and bellowed in every known language.

Gabria tried not to let her mouth hang open as they followed the road into the city, but she could not hide her wide-eyed amazement at everything she saw. There were so many new things to look at!

Pra Deshians were fervent in their worship of their one god and his prophets, and built shrines and temples at every wide spot by the road. There were also open markets, shops, tenements, stables, and huge houses all along the great caravan route.

The road passed through the outskirts of Pra Desh, past a guard post at the official city limits, and into the city proper. Customs officials were checking loaded wagons and collecting taxes from irate drivers. A squad of five guardsmen in purple tunics helped enforce the collection. They were too busy to notice the small groups of dusty clanspeople that rode by. Gabria breathed a sigh of relief as she, Athlone, and Bregan passed the guard and were lost to sight in the crowded streets.

They stayed close together in the streets, following the road as Khan’di had instructed. It still paralleled the river into the heart of Pra Desh’s market district. They passed the huge fish market, the meat mongers’ street, and the livestock market. One street seemed to be dedicated to the leather trade and another was obviously for bakers.

Along one particularly busy street, Bregan reined his horse closer to Athlone’s and leaned over. “Lord, I don’t think this city is at war yet,” he said over the noise of wagons and pedestrians.

Athlone glanced around. He had come to the same conclusion. “You’re right. But have you noticed the number of armed men in the crowds? The city looks like a fortified camp. The Fon’s invasion must be coming soon.”

“So we have come in time,” Bregan replied.

Gabria, riding close by, said, “I don’t think there’s much time left. I’ve been watching the people and they seem to be in an ugly mood. They don’t like all the soldiers in their midst.”

“I wonder how much cooperation the Fon is getting from the Pra Deshians,” said Athlone.

“We’ll find out tonight from Khan’di,” Gabria said.

The chieftain nodded once. “If he comes.”

The travelers rode on in silence. After a while, the road curved away from the river and left the busy market streets behind. The riders passed through an entertainment district of theaters, libraries, and a huge amphitheater to a quieter residential area. The houses here were two-story stone and wood edifices set back from the streets behind privacy walls. The houses were older and showed signs of age, but most of them were well-maintained and their gardens overflowed with flowers.

The road began to rise up a gradual slope until abruptly the riders reached the old city wall. There was a wide gap between the houses and the towering wall, and Gabria felt vulnerable as she rode across the open space to the gate. The Sun Door was a high, arched entrance with two tall gatehouses to either side. A rising sun was carved on the huge wooden door that stood open to allow traffic to pass. More soldiers, these wearing the red of the Fon’s own guard, stood on both sides of the entrance and carefully scrutinized those who passed through.

They ignored the glares and the ugly remarks hurled at them by the city people who went by, but they kept their hands on their swords at all times.

As unhappy as she was to leave Nara, Gabria was glad now the Hunnuli mare had stayed behind. The guards would have noticed the huge black horse instantly. As it was, they still paid more attention to Gabria and her companions than she cared for as she and the two men rode by.

Athlone nodded to one guard and passed under the arched gateway as if he’d done it all his life. Bregan and Gabria were quick to follow. The road led them deep into the maze of crowded, crumbling houses and dark alleys of the old city. Then, unexpectedly, the road split. The right hand way led uphill, and the left gradually dropped down toward the harbor.

Athlone reined his horse to a stop in the middle of the fork and studied each road.

“Which way, Lord?” Bregan asked, coming up beside him.

“Khan’di said to look for the tall buildings with the flags,” said Gabria. “But I don’t see any.”

The three gazed at the city around them. To their right and atop a huge hill sat the temple of Elaja, its white columns and facade shining in the late afternoon sun. On a neighboring hill to the south was the magnificent palace of the Fon. Even from a distance the riders could see the palace’s multi-storied wings and the crenellated wall that surrounded the huge edifice.

Several buildings close by seemed to be barracks, and Athlone thought there was a dangerously large number of soldiers about. The presence of so many armed men around them alarmed him, so thinking quickly, Athlone spurred his horse to the left fork and trotted downhill. To his relief, the way opened up after a block or so, and he saw the full expanse of the busy harbor. At the bottom of the hill, just outside the city walls, were rows of tall buildings, each flying a different colored flag. Beyond those were the teeming wharves and the great crescent-shaped harbor.

Athlone allowed himself a grin of relief. He had not fancied the idea of asking a guardsman for directions. By the time the riders reached the rows of warehouses, the sun had sunk below the tops of the hills, the sign for laborers and workers to end their day. Athlone, Bregan, and Gabria found Keth and Valar loitering in the shadow of an alley between two warehouses. From there they watched the wool house and kept track of the workers as they left.

“Where’s Piers?” Athlone asked when he dismounted.

Keth shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t seen him or the Turic.”

“You don’t think he’s lost,” said Valar.

Athlone scratched his beard. “I doubt it. Piers knows this city better than any of us.”

“Maybe he went to find old ghosts,” Gabria said, as if to herself. The men glanced at her in surprise.

“Well, we can’t look for him. He’ll have to make it here on his own,” the chieftain noted. He took his place in the alley and waited for the remaining workers to leave the warehouse.

Twilight settled into the streets of Pra Desh, and the warehouse workers slowly filtered out and left. No one noticed the five riders waiting in the heavy shadows between the buildings.

At last the street was empty. Athlone was about to approach the warehouse when three horses, two packhorses, and a dog jogged down the street. The chief stepped out to meet them.

“Where have you been?” Athlone demanded.

“Gathering information of our own,” Piers answered. He helped Tam down from the horse.

Athlone crossed his arms. He had been more worried than angry. “You could have been betrayed to the guard.”

“Not by the people I talked to.”

“You really don’t trust him, do you?” asked the chieftain.

“Khan’di?” Piers’s shoulders shifted slightly under his healer’s robes. “Yes and no. I trust him only as long as we are useful to him.”

Athlone agreed. “All right. Listen to him tonight and tell me afterward what you think.”

The healer nodded with satisfaction. He had dreaded the possibility that Gabria was walking into a clever trap set by the Fon, a trap that sported Khan’di Kadoa as bait. Two magic-wielders would be an invincible weapon in the Fon’s hands. But after what Piers had heard this afternoon from old friends and connections in the Healers’ Guild, he doubted Khan’di was planning to betray Gabria.

It was common knowledge around the city that the Kadoa family had suffered severe financial losses because of the Fon.

Khan’di’s wife and son were in hiding, and several other family members had been arrested and had subsequently disappeared into the depths of the palace. The powerful Kadoa family had no reason to love the Fon and every reason to dispose of her. Several contacts had even hinted to Piers that Khan’di, as the most influential nobleman left in Pra Desh, stood a chance of assuming the coronet of the Fon if she were removed. Piers knew his former friend well enough to know that possibility alone would be enough to ensure Khan’di’s trustworthiness. The healer patted his mare thoughtfully. He would be very interested in hearing what Khan’di had to say tonight.

At a word from Athlone, Piers handed his reins to Sayyed and followed the chieftain toward the fifth warehouse. The others stayed behind to wait.

The huge timbered building loomed above them, dark and strange in the deepening twilight. The warehouse’s big wooden sign creaked in the night breeze. Athlone stifled a shiver as he looked up at the building. Its unfamiliar size and blank walls made him distinctly uncomfortable.

He was about to knock on the warehouse entrance when the door was whisked open and a short, portly man rushed out. The man was going so fast he did not see Athlone and slammed full force into the big Khulinin. Both men grunted and staggered back. The stranger would have fallen if Piers had not caught him.

The man gasped at the sight of the two strangers at his door and threw his hands up in alarm. The hand lamp he was carrying swayed wildly.

“It’s all right,” Athlone hastened to explain. “Khan’di sent us.”

The sound of that name seemed to reassure the man, for he straightened up and looked closely at the two men in the light of his lamp. When he saw the healer’s face, he lit up in amazement. “Piers Arganosta! I thought you were dead!”

Piers grimaced. “I’ve heard that a lot today.”

“You probably don’t remember me,” the Pra Deshian said with a grin. “I was quite a bit thinner in those days.”

The healer studied the other’s face for a moment, then he smiled in recognition. “Lord Athlone, this is Sengi Kadoa, Khan’di’s younger cousin and a page to the Fon.”

“The old Fon,” Sengi corrected, his voice edged in anger. “Today I am a wool merchant and—” a devious look flashed across his features in the lamplight “—a spy. That woman on the throne looks to me for mercantile advice.” Sengi looked around and ushered the two men into his warehouse. The door opened into a room obviously used as an office. He lit another lamp, and in the increased light the two men were able to get a closer look at their host.

Sengi bore a strong resemblance to Khan’di in the shape and density of his body frame, the heavy lines of his features, and in the ruddy coloration of his skin. But where Khan’di’s eyes were sharp and calculating and his expression readily showed his cunning intelligence, Sengi’s face was placid and his eyes were framed by skin crinkled from laughter.

The merchant straightened his rumpled robes with nervous hands and flicked his eyes from one man to the other. “Did Piers say ‘Lord Athlone?’” he asked after a hesitant pause. “You are a clan chieftain?”

“Of the Khulinin,” Athlone replied shortly.

The Pra Deshian’s expression melted in obvious relief. “Did you bring the sorceress? Is she here?”

Athlone jerked his head toward the door. “Outside.”

“Ah, praise Elaja!” Sengi clapped his hands. “Please, bring her in. The warehouse is empty. She will be safe.”

“What about our horses?”

“There is a closed shed in back I use for the dray horses. There is enough room and grain for yours. Grain, ah!” He smacked his forehead. “I’ll be back.” With that, he bustled from the office, deeper into the warehouse.

Piers met Athlone’s eyes and shrugged slightly. “He’s always been like that. Busy. But he’s an honest man to his friends. He’ll do what he can.” In a short time, the travelers settled their horses in the shed behind the warehouse and gathered in the office to wait for Sengi. He came back carrying a bottle and a tray of food. His eyebrows went up at the sight of all the people, their gear, and the dog.

“Goodness. I did not expect so many.” He looked over them all, especially Sayyed and the little girl, and was rather puzzled. “Is the sorceress with you?”

Gabria stepped forward to meet him. She untied her scan and lowered the veil from her face. “I am Gabria.”

Sengi blinked at her, then he smiled with welcome and relief. “Your disguise is good, Lady. It hides your fairness like a leather bag can hide a jewel. Please, come.”

The merchant, still carrying his tray, led the party into the main warehouse. Even in the darkness they could sense the vast size of the room and hear its echoing emptiness.

“My stock is low at the moment,” Sengi said, directing them toward the building’s rear. “The Fon has not interfered with my business as she has with Khan’di’s, but she has imposed heavy taxes on all of us to finance her plans for war. I expect more wool soon from the north country.” He shook his head. “But that bloodthirsty woman will suck up all of my profits. If we do not act soon, she will destroy the economy of this city; and without the merchants. . .” He let his sentence trail off, then ducked into a narrow gap in a pile of big bales. The pile reached up out of the range of the lanterns, into the darkness that clung to the high ceiling.

From the smell, the clansmen realized the bales were wool fleeces packed and tied together. One by one, the travelers followed the merchant through the gap and into a narrow space as wide as two men side by side and twenty paces long. The wool bales and the warehouse wall surrounded them.

Sengi set the tray and his lamp down on a wooden crate. “I created this space two months ago after Khan’di left for the plains. I thought it might be useful. My workmen will be here tomorrow, but if you are quiet and stay out of sight during the day, you can stay here as long as you need to. I will care for your horses.”

The men looked around the space dubiously. “Is all of this secrecy really necessary?” Bregan asked.

The wool merchant glared at him. “If the Fon hears even a rumor that the sorceress is in the city, she will tear Pra Desh apart to find her.”

Athlone nodded once and set his gear down. The others followed his example. Sengi looked around to be sure all of his guests understood his warning. “Now then, I must get some more food.” Again he rushed away into the warehouse.

While the merchant was gone, the travelers piled their weapons and packs out of the way and settled down to wait.

Piers picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed the contents. “Andoran Wine,” he said in delight. He found his own horn cup and poured a full measure.

The wine was being passed around when Sengi returned. More bread, cheese, sugared dates, and another bottle of wine filled his arms. Khan’di followed in his wake.

The others stared in amazement at the nobleman as he stepped into the lamplight. His travel-stained knee-length robes and leggings had been replaced by resplendent robes of brilliant blue and gold, trimmed with white furs and embroidered with gold threads. Rings clustered on his fingers, and a heavy gold chain with the dolphin emblem of the Kadoa family hung about his neck.

Khan’di smiled at their reaction. “I’ve been to court this afternoon to pay my respects to the Fon. That is only right, since I am newly risen from my sick bed.”

Athlone cocked an eyebrow. “Sick bed?”

“Before I left Pra Desh I had my seneschal spread the word that I had fallen ill with a contagious disease. My healer has convincingly kept up the lie for all these weeks. Now, at last, I am well. The Fon seemed disappointed.”

“Was it wise to reveal your return to health now?” Piers asked.

“It was the only way I could learn what I needed to know.” He rubbed his hands together. “We have come just in time.” He waited for a few minutes while Sengi bustled around, bringing a jug of water, a couple of leather stools, and another lamp.

When the wool merchant was satisfied, he nodded farewell to his guests. “Until tomorrow. And, Piers, I hope you will tell me how you came to be among the clans. Good night.”

When he was gone, Khan’di lifted the hems of his robes and sat down on a stool. The travelers helped themselves to the food and wine and gathered around him.

Khan’di hesitated another moment before he began. “The Fon has accomplished a great deal while I was gone,” he said. “The entire kingdom of Calah is now completely in her grasp. No one has seen the young prince for days. It is rumored she had him thrown in the pit beneath the dungeon. She has either beggared, bribed, or destroyed many of the old noble Pra Deshian families, and the merchant guilds are almost bankrupt.” There was a deep undertone of anger and sadness in his voice, and as Gabria listened to him, she began to understand that Khan’di’s motivations were not totally selfish. He truly cared for his city and its well-being. He wanted to protect his power, influence, and wealth, but he also wanted to protect Pra Desh. Perhaps Khan’di had earned Piers’s distrust those many years ago in the old Fon’s court, but now he was striving to save his city—not just himself—from the ravages of a merciless ruler.

Khan’di went on. As he talked, he restlessly employed his hands to emphasize his words. “As you may have noticed, the Fon has not yet begun her invasion of Portane. She has delayed in order to gather more draftees and mercenaries for her army. I haven’t heard yet when she plans to strike.”

“In about four days,” Piers said quietly.

“Where did you hear that?”

“In a tavern. It was full of soldiers. They were complaining about leaving home.”

Khan’di drew a deep breath. “Four days. That doesn’t give us much time.”

“Does the Fon still have Branth?” Gabria asked.

“As far as anyone knows. No one has seen him, and there has been no sign of any sorcery.”

“He’s preparing,” she said, her voice strangely distant. The memory of her dream-vision flared up in her mind, and she shuddered.

Athlone set his cup down and leaned back against a bale. “Preparing for what?”

“The strike against Portane?” Bregan suggested.

“Quite likely,” said Khan’di. “I have arranged a meeting for tomorrow with the masters of the city’s guilds. I am going to try to stage a distraction that will help you enter the palace unnoticed. There you should begin your hunt for the exiled chieftain.”

Athlone looked at Gabria. Her face looked so pale, it worried him. “How do we get into the palace?” he asked the nobleman.

“I am working on that, too,” Khan’di replied. “I have an idea, but I need to locate someone whose help we need.”

“So what do we do in the meantime?” Athlone demanded.

“Wait; A day or two at most. We must move before the Fon attacks Portane. If she breaks the alliance of the Five Kingdoms, the whole region will go to war. But we have to lay our plans well. The Fon is no fool.” He rose to go, his fine robes gleaming in the lamplight. “I will be back tomorrow if l can.” He hesitated, his dark eyes on Gabria’s face. “If I don’t come back within two days, please try any way. We cannot leave a sorcerer in the Fon’s hands.”

Wordlessly Gabria held out her hand, palm up. The nobleman nodded and placed his hand, palm down, atop hers. They locked fingers in the clan gesture of sealing avow.

Khan’di, satisfied, left their hiding place.

Athlone waited until he heard the warehouse door shut before he turned to Piers. “Is what he said true?”

The healer put his empty cup down and spoke with regret. “Unfortunately, yes. Perhaps even worse than he told us. The city is on the verge of open rebellion. The people here are terrified, but they’ve been abused as much as they’re likely to stand. One spark will set them off.”

Athlone looked thoughtfully at the gap where the Pra Deshian had disappeared. “Do you think Khan’di is about to provide that spark?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I just hope we don’t get caught in the flames,” Bregan muttered. The others could only nod their agreement.