The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 61
It was only a short ride from the gates of Bertram to the King’s road, and from there they pushed their horses as hard as they dared. They ate their supper in the saddle, only stopping once the sun was well below the horizon and its last light faded from the sky. The hard ride brought them to the beginning of the Moonslight Pass, the southern route that would take them through the mountains to Dorsea’s northeastern reaches.
The next morning they climbed into the Greatrocks themselves. As a section of the King’s road, the pass was well tended. The road was laid in stone, and in many places it went straight through the mountains themselves, where large clefts had been cut as if by a giant’s axe. But it was a steep climb even so, and in some places the road had no choice but to cut back and forth, following the contours of the land.
The mountains were beautiful in the last days of winter. The well-cleared road left the travelers a great deal of unused attention to study their mighty peaks and splendid valleys. It struck Loren how different this mountain range could be, at different points along its length. She had first seen the Greatrocks to the south, where they had ridden with Jordel. Those peaks were high, but they were somewhat gentle, and the summer sun had painted their grey cliffs and stones in hues of warm red. Then they had come to the Greatrocks in the north, searching for Damaris and the stronghold of Yewamba. There the mountains rose into the sky like knives, mighty and sheer, but still covered in green, for the jungle climbed even to their utmost heights. The range they rode through now was somewhere in the middle. Though the peaks had been tamed by human hands, they still stood proud and regal, and each was covered in snow like a robe of office. Indeed, when the sun bathed the slopes in amber at the beginning and ending of the day, Loren was reminded of the white and gold of the High King, and she wondered if this might be the place from which those colors had been drawn.
The day’s end found them in the town of Midgar, which meant ‘waystop’ in the ancient tongue of Dulmun, from the days when Renna Sunmane had conquered this land in the name of the first High King. It was an entirely appropriate name, for the town had been built for the sole purpose of being a place for travelers to rest as they rode the Moonslight Pass. There was a Mystic stronghold just outside the town, a little farther up the slope of the mountains, as though it had been placed there to oversee the town. Loren stared at it as they entered Midgar. The shape of the stronghold was all too familiar. They had seen one just like it in the southern Greatrocks. Jordel had told her that all ancient Mystic strongholds were alike, so much so that he would know the placement of every stone within it. It was still disconcerting to see the truth of his words.
They stopped at one of the town’s more modest inns. Midgar had several, and for a moment Loren had the wild thought of staying at the finest of them. She had a great deal of newfound coin, after all. But she doused the thought in an instant. She had riches, yes, but she would not hold them long if she spent them too freely. So she guided the party towards the meanest-looking inn, which was called the Jolly Rat, though Wyle protested mightily.
“I have visited Midgar before, and I can tell you the Jolly Rat is aptly named,” he said. “The rats are so jolly because they are well fed, and that is because the innkeeper lets them run freely through her kitchen and the guests’ rooms. Let us board at the Silver Boar instead. If they have the same cook as the last time I was here, you will never taste finer boiled carrots in all your life.”
“We stay at the Jolly Rat,” said Loren. “Though you may go and eat your supper at the Silver Boar if you wish, and pay for it as well.”
Wyle sniffed. “I am no beggar who must accept free meals, especially when they are served in such a place. I will indeed eat at the Silver Boar, and stop by the blue door afterwards into the bargain.”
Loren flushed. The blue door was known across the nine lands as the sign of a house of lovers. She had not thought there would be one here so far from any city. “What you do is your own business, as long as you use your own coin. But since I would rather not leave you alone to do it, take Shiun with you. You can buy her dinner as well.”
Wyle scowled. Shiun smirked at him, but then she shook her head at Loren. “If I may make a suggestion, Nightblade, send Uzo instead. He will be just as fine as a guard, and he would likely get some use out of the blue door, whereas I would not.”
Indeed, Uzo looked surprisingly eager. Loren nodded at once. “Of course. I am sorry I did not think of it already, Uzo, after your service in Bertram.”
Uzo ducked his head. “Do not trouble yourself, Nightblade. And thank you.”
Wyle’s expression had darkened still further at the prospect of paying for Uzo’s lover as well as his dinner. But the smuggler took one last dark look at the Jolly Rat and turned on his heel, beckoning Uzo to follow him. Uzo threw a wink over his shoulder and went. With a little smile, Loren watched them go before leading the others into the common room of the Jolly Rat. They quickly secured a room and stables and then bought dinner. Loren thought it looked a bit meager, but nowhere near so bad as Wyle had made it sound. Indeed, they had stayed in far worse places in their travels.
Gem spoke up as they settled into their seats. “Is it wise to let Wyle go off, do you think? If he puts his mind to it, he might yet evade Uzo.”
“He will not,” said Annis. “The prospect of the reward at the end of this journey will keep him close. Indeed, Loren, you offered him more than I would have. A royal pardon is not something easily obtained.”
Loren shrugged. “I am not wise in all the politics of the nine kingdoms. Yet it seems to me that whatever small mischief Wyle has gotten up to here in Dorsea, it pales in comparison to the threat of the Necromancer and the rebellion. If he can help us deliver Damaris, and even the kingdom of Dorsea, I do not doubt that Her Majesty will grant him a life as a honest merchant.”
“And if she does, she will have removed a smuggler who traffics in illegal goods,” said Shiun. “He may even begin to pay taxes on his dealings, furthering the king’s and the High King’s might. It is the wisest of generals who can defeat an enemy by turning them into a servant.”
Loren laughed at that, as did Gem. But Annis did not join them, and now stared morosely at her meal. Loren saw it and leaned over, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Annis?” she said. “Is something wrong?”
The girl’s head jerked up, and she shook her head too quickly. “Not at all,” she said. “My thoughts are far away. Forgive me.”
Loren frowned. She glanced briefly at the others around the table and then back to Annis. “Come. Let us take a walk together.”
“No, we … we should eat,” said Annis.
“Yet you have scarcely touched your food,” said Loren, pointing into the girl’s bowl. “Stand and walk before I am forced to drag you.”
They rose and left Chet, Gem, and Shiun to their meal, fetching their cloaks and stepping out into the wintry night. Annis gasped at the chill and rubbed her arms.
“Step lively,” said Loren. “You should get the blood flowing. It will loose whatever words you have bottled up inside yourself.”
“It is no great matter, truly,” said Annis. “I know I am only being foolish. Yet I still find myself shocked that Dorsea joined the rebellion. It is difficult to imagine a greater disaster for the High King, and it was orchestrated by my own mother.”
“Your mother’s misdeeds are not yours, and they never have been,” said Loren.
“I know that. Yet we are in pursuit of her, and I have bent all my thought towards finding her. I should have seen this coming.” Annis spoke faster and faster. “But then again, should I have been able to predict it? Why should I? My mother is much older and, it seems, infinitely more cunning. I have begun to think this is a fool’s errand. The two of us chasing her across the kingdom, I mean. It seems that we run off on one mad course of action after another. Yes, it seems like the right thing to do every time. But what if we are only making things worse? I—”
Loren put a hand on Annis’ shoulder and squeezed. Not hard, but just enough to get her attention. Annis’ words cut off at once, and she looked up. Loren smiled gently.
“I am sorry,” said Annis. “Babbling is a difficult habit to break.”
“You are being too harsh with yourself, as usual,” said Loren. “It is as you said: Damaris must have been planning this rebellion for some time. If we had not followed her to Yewamba, and then to Dorsea, this still would have happened. And furthermore, she would be sitting safe in a stronghold of power, one that even the High King’s armies might have had trouble removing her from. Mayhap our actions have forced her hand sooner than she wished to reveal it. Her strength now—and the strength of the Dorsean rebels—is likely less than it would have been if we had not remained on her trail, nipping at her heels.”
Annis ran her hands through her hair, mussing it for a moment before pulling it back into place. “You are right, of course. And these things are what I keep telling myself. But after such a long pursuit with nothing to show for it, I am becoming a bit discouraged.”
At those words, she glanced back at the inn. Loren frowned, and then she thought of Gem sitting inside. She shook her head and wrapped an arm around Annis’ shoulder, pulling her close.
“It would be good to have some sort of victory,” said Loren. “I agree with you there. Let us hope that one is just around the next corner—or the next turn in the mountain pass, as it may be.”
Annis looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Loren. But now let us go inside and finish our meal, before I either starve or freeze to death. I am not sure which would come first, and I have no wish to learn.”
Loren chuckled and led her back inside the Jolly Rat.
ON THE THIRD DAY OF their journey, they rode down the other side of the Moonslight Pass to find the city of Danfon laid out before them.
Dorsea’s capital had been built at the very feet of the Greatrocks. There the River Marsden spilled from the foothills, winding its way north and east until it joined the Skytongue to form the border between Dorsea and Feldemar. The Marsden flowed throughout the year, for winter’s chill was too weak to tame its mighty current this far north. Danfon sprawled wide across the landscape on both sides of the river, and beyond its walls, farmlands reached almost to the horizon. Loren had traveled the countryside east of here and knew it for a brown and arid place, but here the soil was rich and loamy, and it gave the capital a fine yield.
They paused as they reached the final bend in the pass out of the mountains. Now they stood on a flat place in the land that seemed built for the sole purpose of observing the city, which seemed only a stone’s throw away. The streets, like Bertram’s, were laid out in neat rows that crisscrossed each other in a simple pattern. Near the western walls was the king’s palace. Its red tile roofs were free from snow, either because they were swept by attendants or because their height left them more open to sunlight. The tiles shone proud in the midst of the city, like a pattern of rubies set on a veil of white lace.
Loren was struck by a feeling both unsettling and all too familiar. She had seen the palace before. Her dream had not shown it from this angle, but still she knew it. And when she turned, she saw the Greatrocks looming above her just the same. The world seemed to spin around her for a moment, and she clutched tight at the horn of Midnight’s saddle. The mare blew a loud snort as though she sensed Loren’s disquiet.
“Welcome to Danfon,” said Wyle. Despite the city’s splendor, the smuggler looked at it with an upturned nose and a frown. “A city that I thought not to visit for a long time, if ever I returned here. We will ride around it to the river on the other side.”
That distracted Loren from her thoughts, and she frowned at him. “The east? Why?”
Wyle arched an eyebrow at her. “Did you not hire me to sneak you into the city unnoticed? There are secret ways that only I and others like me know of, and I mean to lead you to them. But they cannot be traveled on horseback. To the east is a town called Yincang, and there I know a man who will care for our steeds while we see to our business in the capital. We should reach the town just after nightfall, and there I suggest we remain for the night.”
“We should enter the city overnight,” said Loren. “Doubtless we will attract less notice that way.”
But Annis shook her head. “The capital will be in turmoil after the death of King Jun,” said the girl. “This new king, Wojin, will have established a curfew. We will attract more notice if we are on the streets after dark.”
“Just so,” agreed Wyle. “And as for the secret passages, we are no less likely to be seen there after nightfall than during the day. Thieves and scoundrels—for so I am often called, very unjustly—do not keep the same hours as more honest folk.”
After they came down out of the mountains, Wyle led them off the King’s road to a smaller courseway that curved through the farmlands. The plots of land were all sunken into the earth, and there were no people out working them. Loren knew little of farming, but at home in the Birchwood there were many crops that could be planted even in winter. This stillness was strange to her.
“What do they grow here?” she said.
“Rice, mostly,” said Wyle. “They will begin planting a bit late this year, for winter has lasted longer than it usually does. But the capital does not lack for food stores, and the king takes good care of his people when the seasons are unkind.” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “Or at least, King Jun did. I know very little of Wojin’s temperament, nor how he will care for his citizens.”
Loren scowled, and her hands tightened on the reins. “I am surprised to learn that the Dorsean king cared so much for his own subjects. He gave little enough thought to the suffering of other kingdoms.”
Wyle glanced at her. “You were no admirer of Jun, I take it.”
“I did not know his name until only recently,” said Loren. “Yet if he was the king of Dorsea, then no, I had no love for him.”
“You refer to Wellmont, I assume,” said Wyle. Loren jerked in her saddle and looked at him. Wyle nodded. “Your Selvan accent gives it away—and that is something you should try to rid yourself of, by the by. It is always better when others cannot guess everything about you simply from the way you sound.”
“Why does everyone insist I have an accent?” growled Loren. “How can I rid myself of it if I cannot even hear it?”
“Surely you can recognize that your voice is different from mine, and from the Yerrin girl’s,” said Wyle. “Even the boy’s voice is harder to place than yours. In any case, you do yourself no favors with your concern for Dorsea’s border squabbles. The Battle of Wellmont was little more than an overenthusiastic war holiday for our great king. Former king, I should say.”
“You say those words easily,” said Gem quietly. His gaze was far away. “But we were in the city when it was attacked. It was far from a holiday.”
Wyle only shrugged, increasing Loren’s irritation. “Battles rarely seem so to those who experience them, which is why I make a habit of avoiding them. But all manner of mad rumors have been spun about Wellmont since that attack. Something happened there, they say, that has turned the greatest heads in all the nine lands.”
Annis arched an eyebrow. “I presume you include yourself in that company?”
Wyle shook his head quickly. “Oh no, dear girl. I count myself an honest man of great wit, but I am aware of my own insignificance. I am no mighty figure in the affairs of the nine kingdoms, nor would I wish to be so. A life of good food and good wine and some little excitement is enough for me.”
Loren did not wish to speak further of Wellmont, but Gem turned to the smuggler with interest. “What did you mean before?” he said. “What happened at Wellmont?”
Wyle shrugged. “Rumors and speculation fly, but the truth is not so easily found. It seems that certain powerful parties have been trying to conceal the truth of the matter, and that is most interesting. I do not suppose you noticed anything unusual while you were there?”
“Other than the battle itself?” said Gem. “That was unusual enough for me.”
“Enough of this talk,” said Loren. “I do not wish to hear more about Wellmont.”
“As you wish,” said Wyle. The party fell silent for a time.
They followed the road in its wide loop around Danfon to where it met the Marsden half a league to the east. There they found a great construct of stone and iron, with many great pipes sticking out of the riverbank to empty into the waters, pouring a steady stream of refuse. The smell of it struck them hard even in the cold air. Gem turned away and pinched his nose, shoulders heaving.
“There you have it,” said Wyle. “The secret passages. Danfon’s sewers are some of the best in the nine kingdoms, and one can get entirely lost inside them. Which means, of course, that it is easy to avoid being found.”
“Sewers,” muttered the boy. “I had hoped I had escaped sewers forever when I left Cabrus.”
Wyle laughed and shook his head. “For those who skirt the King’s law, sewers are like a second home. You should enter a new line of work if you seek to avoid them.”
Uzo glared at the smuggler. “We are the King’s law.”
Wyle gave Loren a broad wink. “Of course you are.”
He turned them away from the sewers and took them back to the road, which went east for a ways before turning south to reach the little town of Yincang. The sun had disappeared over the Greatrocks by the time they reached it, and twilight had set in. Yincang had no wall, and so they came unchallenged to its streets. Wyle took them straight to the inn. It was a small, nondescript building with only one floor, smaller than the stable at its rear.
“Many travelers like us leave their mounts here while they do business in the city,” said Wyle. “This place was built to take better care of horses than humans.”
