The Hands of Lyr (Five Senses Series Book 1) Page 14

  The man nodded and was gone. Danus fussed with a pouch thonged to the driver’s seat of the wagon and brought out several scraps of dressed hide patterned with writing. He sorted through these, giving each a lingering survey.

  “All in order,” he said when he had done. “What do they wish?”

  Kryn’s own curiosity was now fully aroused. Since this treatment of travelers was apparently new, it was a matter for concern. Outlaws? However, his own band were from over mountain, they had made no raids here in the west, and their fight had been with the Temple and its armsmen, not with either the High King’s guard or the common people. These visitors sent by Valcur—stirrers up of trouble they must be, but what trouble and how well stirred? Ruan had been sure they had been sent out of Kasgar, not welcomed.

  “Master Danus….”

  The merchant gave him attention as he packed away his travel permits.

  “We have not troubled this land—we of the east.”

  “That I know—would I have otherwise made the pact with your lord? I have heard of no quarrel with the east— Ha, Janner! What have you heard?” For his gearman had pushed through the crowd to join them.

  “Strange things, Master Danus. They say that there have been deaths in the city which cannot be explained and it is believed that perhaps one of the earlier caravans brought a plague with them—”

  “Plague!” Danus’s hand flew to his mouth as if to stop that ominous word. “Yet they are letting in any people wishing to go—these are not fleeing Kasgar as a plague, rather they would enter.”

  “That is but one tale, Master. There are others—it is said that the deaths come only to certain people—those given Three Given Powers—those of the shrine—others who are devout and visit there often. The Priest of Armish has a watcher here, those of the following of the Lady Paulla have sent a healer. So far there has nothing been detected but they are to make certain.”

  Kryn saw Nosh move again, both hands now back at her breast. Those crystals which seemed to mean so much to her—was she fearing that they be detected— perhaps taken from her?

  The waiting line moved up. Kryn, walking beside the merchant’s wagon, looked up at the girl. Her face was set in that masklike countenance he had seen before— the one with which she faced the world when she scented danger ahead.

  “You fear…” On impulse he said that, seeing no one else near enough to hear, for Danus had clambered back into the wagon to answer questions being shrilled out by his wife and Janner had once more pushed ahead.

  “I carry nothing of the dark.” Her chin rose a fraction. “Even though I seem to you to be one who deals with evil. But this is not the land of Lyr and I am alone— nor am I one familiar with the mysteries as was Dreen. I only know that what I carry must be guarded with my life, and secondly that my life must not be fruitlessly spent, for I still have much to do. The Three Danus told me of—they who hold dominion over Kasgar—are not akin to the One. It may be that any guards they raise will pass without question that which is of Lyr.”

  Something kept him walking beside her. Perched on that wagon seat she seemed so small, so huddled in, as if she would bow her body around what she carried. Her eyes were closed now. Power… he wanted to plunge away from any manifestation of that, yet at this moment he could not, for a reason he did not understand.

  They were finally at the gate and Danus was at the head of their party, waving his documents in the face of the guard. There were a number of fully armed men set to form the borders of a lane down which the travelers were to pass. The city men were well armed, Kryn noted with envy, and wondered if he could take back to Dast such weapons and mail as he saw on common display here.

  A man who wore a plumed helm—plainly the commander of this contingent—was flanked on one side by a shorter figure wearing a grey robe, the borders of which were patterned with a tangle of running lines in several shades of green. The priest’s head was bare, exposing a nearly bald scalp, but over his eyes extended a thatching of very thick brows.

  Both his hands were held before him, clasping a plate of metal very like a narrow mirror, the length of one of his arms, which caught the sun in flashes and showed those who passed as oddly small figures as they went.

  To the officer’s right hand was a woman, tall, angular of body, her silver hair tightly coiffed and netted, but her expression one of concern. She too held a mirrorlike object, but hers had the orb of the full moon and her robe was a blue which, at any small movement of her body, showed small spots of silver light like the sparks of some cold fire.

  The first of Danus’s wagons pulled through and those guardians beside the officer were watching intently. Danus himself stood beside the officer who had accepted and was now sifting through his documents. A number of the merchant’s gearmen and guards followed, and the second wagon moved into place. Kryn still walked beside that, glancing now and then to Nosh. He thought that she was holding control with all her force of will as the wagon moved on and those mirrors reflected both Kryn and the girl perched above him.

  Kryn himself was tense. Surely the power Nosh wielded could be detected. What would happen then? She might be dragged off to imprisonment in some shrine, unable to prove she meant no harm.

  However—there was no flash of light such as he had fully expected to see and the wagon creaked on, it and its inhabitant plainly signaled to be harmless. Kryn found himself near panting, his hand crooked tightly about sword hilt. Though why should he care about what happened to this girl? So far she had meant little but trouble for those he did value.

  Beyond the gate there were three ways to go. A broad avenue stretched ahead, then they were crossing a street which ran both right and left, along the inner side of the wall. However, Danus’s caravan took the avenue into the heart of Kasgar, not turning off that until they were some distance into the city.

  Kasgar was indeed a visible show of the wealth and might of its inhabitants. Buildings on either hand arose some three and four stories from street level and had balconies on which there were tubs planted with brightly blossoming flowers. The lowest floors of many of these structures were shops, open to view from the street, with shelves stocked with colorful goods and gearmen on duty to sell.

  The roadway itself was clean and the gutters, running on either side, dipped down into holes to drain off any moisture and refuse which might be left at the passing of animals and men. Many and powerful smells teased the nostrils—here a hint of spice, there a rankness—and the way was crowded with the guards pushing ahead to clear a path.

  They made a turn to the right into a sideway which quickly narrowed so that the wagons had slim passage and the men had to fall back between them or behind. This alley ended in a wall in which there was an archway large enough to admit those same wagons and it was held wide open, with a crowd of gearmen and servants waiting to bid Danus and his people welcome.

  Kryn and his men were at a loss for a moment until Ruan hailed them and led the way to what was very clearly an armory and barracks combined. The gates were not closed, however, until the varges cleared of their harnesses were led out—to pass again beyond the city wall into the common pasturage until they would be needed.

  Danus’s house might not be as tall and imposing as some they had passed on the main avenue but it was fully equal, Kryn thought, to any holdhall, doubtless with some comforts few of those could own. He was impressed in spite of himself and for the first time shaken out of his preoccupation with what must be done, knowing instead a strong desire to explore this city which could even dim that which housed the High King’s court.

  INTERLUDE

  The room was dusky-dark. Its occupant had deliberately jerked the curtains across the long narrow tower windows. Now he hunched in his chair staring, with a rage boiling within him, at the mirror facing his tall thronelike chair. Not the usual mirror, reflecting what was about it—this slick and polished surface had other and sometimes sinister properties. But now it was defaced with a blotch of sickl
y green-yellow, a thickish blot which was slowly putting down threads to web in the surface below.

  He reached out a hand for a goblet sitting on a small stand to his left and gulped down a good gullet full of the stuff—smooth to the tongue, fiery and sustaining in the stomach. Though long ago he had become most abstentious, putting aside the vices of one world for certain titillating pleasures of another.

  Still his eyes were on the mirror though there was no reflection there any more. Now he held up his right hand between him and that clouded surface, studying the flesh, the fingers, as if they might be part of another’s body.

  Age—age striking at HIM! Those Fingers freed from long loss and pulled out of hiding—ready to push him back into the life of common mankind again!

  No!

  He straightened. The goblet, put down without care, missed the table and hit the carpeted floor, spilling out what was left of its contents. No….

  There were several things he must do but the shock he had just endured kept him for the moment anchored where he was. He had felt a certain fatigue when he had awakened from his reaching trance—enough to stir a vague uneasiness in him. Which had led him here and to this ominous discovery.

  Passing years—those governed the powerless ones. They were born, they flourished like field harvest—then the reapers garnered them in—to what? For a moment his thought shifted a fraction. What DID lie beyond death? Not that it was going to suit his lifelong purpose to find out.

  They bowed to god and goddess, those seedlings of the world’s fields, seeking favors from what did not exist. It was easy to create a god. Now he smiled, a quirk of lip which disfigured what might be the handsome face of a man of middle years, one rich in all talents and desires.

  Oh, yes, it was easy to raise a god from the dust— there was the One. That had been a very fruitful and satisfying creation. It had speedily brought under his control such as he could use as tools—some of them fine tuned—such as Valcur….

  Valcur… the mage’s dark eyes narrowed. Tools could turn in one’s hand, lose their sharp edging. The attempt on Kasgar—the first of Valcur’s failures—though he had, of course, left a legacy which was going to trouble that city for some time.

  Those Three who were enshrined there… Now he flexed his fingers as if about to close them around some object. Men dream things—because men must have that which is beyond human reckoning to satisfy the need for comfort and a hedge against fear.

  He now considered the Three of Kasgar, turning his mind firmly away from the spattered mirror. At the arising of their worship he had tested to see if any stir of true power lay behind their coming. There was a meager portion, too small to unseat his future plans. He had made the decision then to let Kasgar respect the Three, depend upon them until there was a need for a true reckoning.

  There was only one—now he snarled and that handsome countenance held what was close to a wakwolf’s grim foreface. But that one was powerless—powerless unless…

  The satisfaction he had known moments earlier was gone. His fingers formed a fist, with which he struck his knee with such force as to feel a response of actual pain.

  Now he arose from his chair, turning his back on the mirror, grunting suddenly, and putting his hand to his back as if he felt pain there also. The curse he uttered was as loud as an incantation.

  He could not wait any longer—he must set somehow a sentinel for a warning. And, in the meantime, prepare for what could be done were the worst to happen and the Hands returned to Lyr.

  He was placed, he thought with a wry twist of angry amusement, as if he were a cook facing the need for tending a number of different pots and spits at one and the same time. He had been so sure…

  However, there was no surety with power. He should have realized that, kept the thought in mind with each day’s rising. Well—what would be his next move?

  Two strides brought him to a table on which had been laid a series of patterns which, when one stared at them with intent eyes, took on the appearance of a map—one which would have been recognized by any officer of the High King.

  The royal city and that dominated by the Temple were represented by coinlike dots of gold. And there were dotted lines, not as deeply incised as those marking roads and rivers, though some of them followed the course of both—those from Tomanu of the High Court were well marked and led south.

  This impression of the countryside was much wider than just the present holdings of the High King and to the south were patches marked in dull grey and black. Beyond the mountains were other markings, and most of those centered on Kasgar. The mage touched a finger to one of the grey patches beyond the Heights of Askad. Dead land, blasted out of any being. He had believed he was finished with what had abode there.

  Again his fist balled and he smashed it down on that grey spot. Then he deliberately controlled his anger— and—but he would not admit to the fear which had sparked in him when he had looked in the Mirror of All Seeing this morning. He had no reason to fear—his power had endured for more seasons than any living man could count—and it grew ever stronger….

  Unless—he spat as might an enraged cat—unless they discovered the inner secret. But that meddling female was dead—blasted by an attempt to withstand what he had sent. Who stood in her place—a child, a child ridden by night fears and unknowing of the world into which she had pushed her way. Yes, she could be taken, what she carried crushed into such dust that no one might ever aspire to unite the Hands again.

  He was nodding in echo to his thoughts. Now he turned swiftly, his cloak flaring out about him, its rich stuff soft in the light. There was a door to this tower chamber and he went out, down a curl of stairway around the wall into another room as dusky as the one he had left.

  A figure moved stiffly toward him. As tall as the mage, this newcomer was bare of body except for an apron of hide. The flesh so revealed was a sickly white and very sparse, stretched tightly over bones, if it were true bone alone which formed this creature. The head was elongated, large ears set near the top of the bald dome, and the features were unpleasantly animal-like—the jaw jutting forward as part of a muzzle, the yellow eyes, oddly pupilless and like stones set on either side of a nose which echoed the point of the jaw.

  The mage clicked his fingers and the creature fell in a step or two behind him as he neared the center of the room. There was a carrion odor in this place and as the mage advanced there was a rustling. A moment later he was beside a globe set on a high standard.

  Before it was a line of perches on which several rathhawks mantled in threat, their red eyes agleam. Again the mage clicked his fingers and the one whom he had met here scooped from the floor a bowl and started along the line of the restless birds, offering to each in turn a fragment of blood-dripping flesh.

  But the mage was no longer watching. Instead he had turned fully to face the globe and now stood staring intently into the swirling depths below its cloudy surface, his hands outstretched so that one was, fingers spread wide, on either side of the globe, though he did not touch its surface. A frown of concentration furrowed his forehead.

  Within the globe the colors grew faster in their movement; almost one could think they were alternately shaping and dissipating runes.

  One of the rathhawks screamed, such a cry as it might have given upon sighting a foe. The mage’s hands drew in, to be clasped together, the long sleeves of his state robe nearly concealing them.

  So far he was safe, and he had those who served him well. Some of them never to be suspected. They believed him long dead, vanished overseas. He had taken seasons to construct this hideout and set about it the waver spells so that anyone striving to travel in this direction would be confused without any knowledge of what was happening.

  Yes, he was safe, his refuge intact; he had only one stupid child to handle now and that he could do, with ease. The first move was at hand.

  Turning away from the globe, he clicked again to his alien servant and the creature unfastened
the foot chain of the rathhawk which had challenged. The bird hopped from perch to the servant’s shoulder and the mage led the way to the far side of the room. Once there he struck his hands, palms flat, against the stones and there was a grating as two of the blocks swung inward to open a window on the brightness of a clear, chill day.

  The rathhawk screamed again. From its throat swung the red disc which linked it to its master’s will. It sidled along the arm its carrier held out protruding through that window, mantled and then soared out and away. The window closed and the mage, without another sign to his servant, went back to that upper room.

  Now he took up a wad of cloth and swirled it over the mirror, working to clean it as might the most painstaking of maidservants. Having finally got it bright again, he tossed what he held into a metal bowl and it burst into flames, gone in an instant.

  He seated himself once more and stared at his reflection. Those faint signs of age which he had detected before certainly had not vanished, but he must make sure that they did not grow any plainer. He would remain Razkan in his prime, not be eaten up by time. Time was for the stupid, the unlearned. And he was neither.

  CHAPTER 15

  Even after several days of living within these walls and being guided through the building in part, Nosh found life strange and difficult. She had been used to the most bare of sustenance and surroundings, but here she was surrounded by what seemed to her near royal luxury.

  Danus’s house was square, built about a wide court into which wagons could be driven, those same vehicles put into storage in that section of building to the right of the main gate. The gate itself was never opened in entirety except for the wagons, a small portal cutting the middle of the larger for daily use. There was a well near the block which housed the kitchen and beside it a pump and a trough to catch the runoff water.