The Man of Gold t-2 Page 34

  The priest of Sarku had not named the others in their party. Harsan spared a glance behind him. Tlayesha crouched there in the mouth of the passage, Simanuya beside her. Mirure lay prone, face down upon the uneven floor, the line of her blood-crusted wound black upon her shoulder. She would be invisible to those on the opposite side of the abyss. Taluvaz, Morkudz, and Itk t’Sa were not to be seen. They must have gone further into the new tunnel beyond.

  Their pursuers assuredly knew of Taluvaz Arrio; they had followed him into Simanuya’s shop easily enough, had they not? Did they believe him to be dead-or, worse, did they consider him powerless? Perhaps the Livyani had nothing to offer: he might well be no more than a courier, a messenger, a finely mannered, aristocratic, foreign diplomat enmeshed in a task that suited him not at all. They probably were aware of Mirure, too, but they might not have seen the Heheganu: “A friend in ambush is better than two comrades at one’s side,” as Zaren used to say. There might be a chance yet. The Livyani had knowledge of these ancient places. With that, and with Mirure’s skills and the Heheganu’s spells (whatever they might be!), it might still be possible to win past this skull-faced priest. Anything was better than the dubious mercies he offered them.

  “I have no great liking for Tsuhoridu, priest Jayargo.” Harsan began to crawl backward toward the others, Mirure following. “I admit that I am also tired and would seek those beds you mentioned. Their occupants will simply have to move over and make room for me!”

  “You do me and my hospitality an injustice. We may have to rescue you before you can lead us to your relic. La, we may even have to summon you back from the Isles of the Excellent Dead in order to chat with you further!”

  Harsan made no further answer. Jayargo sighed, stood up, dusted his pleated kilt, and signalled to his followers. Whatever they were, they began to scramble back into the corridor of the moulds.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The place that was not a place smouldered with scintillations like many torches seen from atop a tower. What might have been draperies shifted and wavered, although there were neither walls nor any breeze to move them. Sparks of cold light swam through the thick, hot air. This was no habitat for humankind, and only sorcery could make it so, even temporarily.

  Those same four who had met here before were gathered again: the Baron of Yan Kor, Lord Fu Shi’i, who was the Baron’s confidant, Prince Dhich’une of Tsolyanu, and the silent Mihalli whose globe of power enabled them to come together. They sat crosslegged upon a surface that was not earth or stone, but which served admirably as such.

  “You summoned this meeting, Baron.” The white skull-face showed no emotion. A subtle hint of carefully leashed hatred showed in Prince Dhich’une’s posture, nevertheless.

  “Not I. You.”

  “Not either of you,” Lord Fu Shi’i said. “It was I.”

  “You take much upon yourself!”

  A long-fingered hand slid out to lie palm up upon Lord Fu Shi’i’s russet-garbed lap. “Your quarrel threatens both your interests, masters. Allow me to mediate, for I serve issues rather than men.”

  “Speak.” Velvet rustled. This time Baron Aid wore no armour but a cowled, soft robe of dark forest green. He looked as though he had been called forth from his bed.

  “Lord Baron, were we not the ones who sent Hele’a of Ghaton upon his journey?” Fu Shi’i inquired blandly.

  Aid of Yan Kor scratched his stubbled cheeks, then grunted, “Who can dispute such a small matter?”

  “And, great Prince, did you not reward Hele’a for his perfidy-as you saw it?”

  The colourless lips moved, but no reply came.

  “Both the sending of spies and the elimination of spies are the proper behaviour of rulers, as Amigga Mriddashte says in his treatise, ‘A Sceptre for Princes.’ Is it so?”

  He waved down the words of protest that would have erupted from both sides and continued.

  “Spies are thus a matter of statecraft, not an affair of honour upon which Shamtla — money is demanded and given. You are not merchants to wrangle over a false bargain in the marketplace. No, if both of you acted nobly, as princes should, then what blame can either attach to the other? Who censures whom?

  The Baron was the first to respond. He chuckled. Then he glanced about as though seeking a goblet of something with which to toast Lord Fu Shi’i. There was nothing; perhaps there was no wine or anything else potable upon this strange, darkling Plane.

  “But should I not ask Shamtla for those of mine who perished at the hands of the soldiers of noble Prince Dhich’une?” he asked. “Besides Hele’a-those who died in the Tolek Kana Pits, on the road to Purdimal, later in the stews beneath that city-?” “You lost only fools,” the Prince said. “One might argue that your network of agents, your Surgeth, is better off without them.”

  “Perhaps. Or I might admit that one cannot win at Den-den without surrendering counters. Hele’a was at best a green. The others were no more than whites. And you may be a man or two-or a creature or two, at least-short as well.”

  “My Lords,” Fu Shi’i interrupted, “this contact cannot last. Our meeting must be short. I pray you both to make peace-lay aside your grievances. Be reconciled-for now, if not forever.” “Yes, enough,” Baron Aid grumbled. “Let us roll up this scroll-for the present anyway. You did not summon me from my mistresses in order to have me clap the shoulder of sweet Prince Dhich’une and give him the kiss of peace! At least not without something drinkable to seal our troth! La, Lord Fu Shi’i, what is the urgency?”

  “My sources-” A nod towards the Mihalli, who paid no heed whatsoever. “My sources tell me that the bird has flown from its tree. Even as we speak, mighty Prince, your servants pursue the priest-boy and his paramour through the Undercity below Purdimal.”

  “They will soon take him.” The brown, fleshless hands clenched upon dun-robed knees. “This time I sent no white counters but rather blues and blacks. The task will be done, and the Man of Gold will be mine. Then I shall be in a position to honour our bargain-if you would still have it, Baron. ’ ’

  “You need my favours now as never before, Prince. The weather has changed in your land, has it not? There are clouds of grey on one horizon and fiery orange-red on the other. Once you were four half-brothers and a half-sister who vied for the throne of your father. Now there are two more.”

  “Let the temples and the clans bring forth half a hundred! Weak schoolboys like Surundano are an embarrassment to the Temple of Thumis-and to my divine father! He should have himself made a eunuch for spawning such an insipidity!”

  “But the other, Prince Mirusiya, is no milksop, eh? A warrior of Lord Vimuhla’s Flame, raised by the quarrelsome Vriddi clan of Fasiltum! Not a pot easily piddled in.”

  The skull-face turned from side to side. “Cha! Vimuhla’s flame-orange balances Karakan’s scarlet: Mirusiya against Eselne! Let them lose sleep over one another-and the favours of sister Ma’in Kriithai! Our other brother, Mridobu, will dandle first Eselne and then this new Mirusiya: half an army to each with which to fight your northerners, Baron-but not on the same front! Is this not good news for you? One force in the west under brave Eselne, and a second to Mirusiya in order that he may try the impossible in the east: march up through the Pass of Skulls, take Milumanaya, and come around to your back gate! You can defeat two halves of an army easier than one whole one.”

  White teeth glittered in the black beard. “We are ready. Our troops hold the Atkolel Heights and welcome Prince Eselne’s coming. My generals hold counsel with the lords of Saa Allaqi at Tleku Miriya. Let your father give this Prince Mirusiya even two whole armies and offer him Milumanaya as the prize of his inheritance. He may take the dry wastelands there, and he may even reduce the city of Sunraya-a long and costly siege. But then I shall snap at him from the northwest, and the Saa Allaqiyani will pounce upon him from the east. He cannot maintain his lines of supply for long. The distance, the weather, and the size of his force preclude it. The tribes of the Dese
rt of Sighs sing to my music too, not Tsolyanu’s. Eventually Mirusiya and his army will perish, and the sand-worms shall set a crown of brambles upon his skull!”

  “Do not offer up paeans of victory to your gods too soon-!” “My Lo rds, my Lords,” Fu Shi’i interposed, “no need to battle chants and her oic speeches here in this place! We are not gathered to bandy tactics and the strategies of armies. We must come to a greater understanding. ”

  “The priest and the Man of Gold?” Prince Dhich’une moved restlessly beneath his stiff, brocaded robes.

  “Yes, Lord. Consider. There are others who would aid him.” “The Omnipotent Azure Legion?” the Prince raised two fingers in dismissal. “My people have led them a weary round. They are convinced that the priest-boy is dead-or fled out of the Empire. In any case Mridobu sets little store by this Man of Gold. His agents poked about beneath Purdimal, but now they seem to have given up the chase.”

  “And I am told that the Livyani have taken up the game.” “WHAT? Fa ther of dungbeetles, WHY?” the Baron exploded. “Does every fish and fo wl in the Five Empires covet my-the wretched thing?”

  “Their actions-and their goals-are unclear. Yet it was because of them that the Heheganu prodded the priest-boy out of his sanctuary.”

  “They may know more of it than we,” the Prince mused. “Some use of it, some way to profit from it themselves-”

  “To accomplish what?” Baron Aid clawed at his beard. “Victory over Mu’ugalavya? The conquest of the Isles of the Hliiss? The defeat of the Gods and the freeing of Lord Ksarul from his nap? The drying up of the sea and the extinguishing of the sun? Tsamra cannot possibly need such a device to conquer the Isles of Tsolei-those savages are chaff in the wind against any good military force!” He leaped up to pace to and fro.

  The Mihalli lifted scarlet-glowing eyes from the globe in silent appeal. Lord Fu Shi’i arose to calm his master and sit him down again before the balance of that place that was not a place was overturned.

  “Of course, Tsamra may not have a good military force,” Lord Fu Shi’i murmured. The others did not hear him.

  “Baron, we are aware of the efficacy of the Man of Gold against your ‘Weapon Without Answer’-if either of them still operates after all these millennia.” The Prince ignored the black look he got. “This is why I would obtain it-both to keep my divine father’s legions from defeating you too handily before I can ascend the Petal Throne, and also to hold as a counter against you should you yearn to let your ‘Weapon’ carry you all the way to the walls of Avanthar!”

  “I keep my oaths. Your northern cities-and General Kettukal hiMraktine-in return for my aid in seating you upon the Petal Throne!”

  “As you say. But if the Livyani aid the priest to find the Man of Gold, and if they then use it-or bargain it off to the highest bidder amongst my fellow heirs-?”

  “-The reason I summoned you together,” Lord Fu Shi’i said.

  “-Then we must lay aside our differences,” the Prince continued. “We must hold true to our original covenant and join in finding the Man of Gold before the Livyani do. If my sages speak aright, the thing can do more than drop dung in the road before your ‘Weapon Without Answer,’ Baron! Ohe, you may yet see it fry the walls of Ke’er as Lord Vimuhla might cook a sausage! We have both seen the powers of the devices of the Ancients! The ‘Eyes’ that were once their smallest tools, the hammers of their smiths, the chisels of their masons; the vehicles that travel through tunnels below the earth; the cars that fly; the Lightning Bringers that deliver bolts of energy farther than any sorcerer can toss his spells-.” The Prince made a circular gesture in the air with one corpse-hued finger. “This Man of Gold may do real mischief to our mutual causes: there are hints, stories-”

  “Legends-!” the Baron began, but Prince Dhich’une would not be silenced.

  “Yes, legends. Ancient threats to your-allies: tales not only of harm to your ‘Weapon Without Answer,’ but also to the He'esa, whom you have so carefully established in positions useful to us both, and even to the power of the Goddess Herself to enter into this Plane! The priest-boy cannot know the capacity of this Man of Gold. But the Livyani may. And their game is unknown. All their counters lie concealed within the temples of their Shadow Gods! Will you not now call upon the He’esal We must rectify matters before it is too late.”

  “I agree that we must act-both of us. Unfortunately none of the He’esa is close enough to be of use at this time. Your agents combined with mine should be sufficient, nevertheless. After all, neither this Thumis priest nor his Livyani friend is Subadim the Sorcerer! My Lord Fu Shi’i, can you contact our folk in Purdimal? The hour is late, but…”

  “It will be done, master. The Mihalli here knows paths that traverse Planes through which none other travels. And you, Prince? Your agents?”

  “Already in action. But I have telepaths who will speak with others in Purdimal. Our pursuit will increase by five-fold within this night.”

  “Our matters are complete, then?”

  “For now, Success, Prince!”

  “To you as well, Baron Aid.”

  The Mihalli moved supple, many-jointed fingers above the globe. The scene flickered and flowed away into darkness. The sparks of light flipped their tails lazily and swam to and fro in a sea that might have been air, or water, or something entirely different.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The tunnel ascended, which cheered them. Then it descended again, which did not. Taluvaz paused to pronounce the walls similar to those made during the latter Llyani dynasties. To Harsan the passage was no different than before: a squarish tunnel hacked out of the living rock. For all he cared at the moment, it might have been built by Shqa — beetles! Its eventual destination was what worried him now. Why a tunnel so deep- and so long? This question he put to Taluvaz.

  “Cities shift over the centuries,” the Livyani replied. “Today’s palaces and mansions are tomorrow’s slums, then naught but ruins on the morning thereafter. When one has ancient and venerable shrines, treasuries, and the tombs of one’s fathers below one’s dwellings, it is noble to maintain them even after the folk above have gone elsewhere. Thus it is with Ditlana: surface structures are razed, the cellars filled in, and new buildings rise up to please the Gods. Yet the priests keep some of the subterranean shrines open, and rulers do the same-for reasons less pious.”

  “I have heard of this.” Harsan thought of Hele’a.

  “And when one’s new city has wandered far from the old, those with secrets to keep dig passages to connect them. So we do in Livyanu, and so your Tsolyani-and so the many empires that have gone before: the Engsvanyali on top of the First Imperium of the Bednalljan kings; they upon the ruins of the Dragon Warriors, the ancestors of my Mirure here; they in turn upon the Three States of the Triangle; they upon the Llyani; and Llyan’s buildings over the wrack left from the Latter Times. Ai, there are deeper ruins still: the fragments of the metropolises that existed before the Time of Darkness, all metal and glass. And underneath everything else lie the crypts of the First Races: the Foes of Man, the Ssu and the Hliiss.”

  “Yet this is solid rock, not stonework. This is no crawl-hole from one warren to the next.”

  “So it is.” Taluvaz wriggled his shoulders, making his Aomiiz tattooes dance. “As I said, certain places were built as catacombs for the dead, others for the storing of valuables, and some for reasons now known only to the Gods.”

  They came to another large cavern, a natural bubble which the ancient miners had exploited to advantage. Here they halted. A broken bronze adze lay on the floor, mute evidence of one who had laboured here long ago. Mirure hefted the blade but opined that it was too corroded to serve. There was no sign of the handle; if Taluvaz were correct, anything made of wood must now be dust.

  The lowest section of the cave held a pool of water. From this they gratefully drank and washed themselves. Once they sat down, however, the need for rest swept over them like a wave. Tlayesha and Mirure were used t
o walking, but there was no telling how long Taluvaz and Simanuya could keep up. Itk t’Sa might be tired too. The Pe Choi could go without rest for days, but their rhythms were different from those of humankind, and when fatigue finally struck, it felled them as surely as any spear-blade. Harsan massaged his own limbs and decided that neither Jayargo nor all the monsters of Sarku’s hells would get him up until he had slept for a time.

  They busied themselves with prosaic little tasks. This took away from the mute and malignant darkness, the terror that hovered just beyond their circle of light, and the uncertainties of the future. Tlayesha saw to Mirure’s wound again, for it was growing painful. Morkudz then let his spell of radiance expire, and blackness swept in to press upon their eyes like the silver coins that Lord Belkhanu’s priests lay upon the eyes of the dead. Harsan could not begrudge the Heheganu his sleep; his sorcery had exhausted him more than any of them. There was only one other entrance to the cave: the continuation of their tunnel. It seemed best to post someone to watch while the rest warmed themselves against one another and dozed. He asked Itk t’Sa and she did not demur, saying that she could remain alert a while longer.

  They woke hungry, but there was no food. They drank again, and took counsel. Their only course was to continue. Jayargo might have lied about another entrance through which he could come at them, but even this would be more cheering than to discover that this corridor ended in nothing, a dead-end, a blank wall from which they would have to retrace their weary steps- and find some way to recross the fiery chasm!

  The passage turned, wound up and down, and finally began to rise in earnest: slanting corridors interspersed with flights of long and shallow steps. Simanuya exclaimed that he felt breath of air coming from up ahead, and their pace became quicker, their spirits higher.