The Hidden City

‘Why didn’t you deal with them? I told you how to do it.’

‘We put a lantern in there, but there’s a door inside the cave, Setras-God,’ Atana Maris advised him.

‘Well, open it, dear lady,’ Setras said. ‘We really must reach Cyrga by morning. Aphrael will be terribly vexed with me if we’re late.’

‘We’d gladly open it if we knew how, Divine One,’ Bergsten told him, ‘but late or not, I won’t ride away from here and leave those monsters behind me, and if that vexes Aphrael, that’s just too bad.’ The handsome, stupid God irritated Bergsten for some reason.

‘Why do I have to do everything myself?’ Setras sighed. ‘Wait here. I’ll deal with this, and then we’ll be able to move on. We’re terribly behind schedule, you know. We’ll have to get cracking if we’re going to make it by morning.’ He strolled on across the rocky gully and entered the cave.

‘That young fellow’s really trying my patience,’ Bergsten muttered. ‘Trying to explain something to him is like talking to a brick. How can he be so –’ Bergsten pulled up short just this side of heresy.

‘He’s coming back out,’ Atana Maris said.

‘I thought he might,’ Bergsten said with some satisfaction. ‘Apparently he didn’t have any better luck with that door than we did.’

Setras was strolling toward them humming a Styric melody when the entire hill vanished in a great, fiery explosion that shook the very earth. The fire billowed out with a dreadful, seething roar, hurling Bergsten and the others to the ground and engulfing Aphrael’s cousin.

‘Dear God!’ Bergsten gasped, staring at the boiling fire.

Then Setras, with not so much as a hair out of place, came sauntering out of the fire. ‘There now,’ he said mildly, ‘that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’

‘How did you get the door open, Divine One?’ Heldin asked curiously.

‘I didn’t, old boy,’ Setras smiled. ‘Actually, they opened it for me.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘I knocked, dear boy. I knocked. Even creatures like that have some manners. Shall we be going, then?’

‘They are much feared by the other Cyrgai,’ Xanetia reported, ‘and all do give way to them.’

‘That would be useful – if it weren’t for the racial differences,’ Bevier noted.

‘Such differences do not pose an insurmountable obstacle, Sir Knight,’ Xanetia assured him. ‘Should it prove needful, thy features and those of thy companions may once more be altered. Divine Aphrael can doubtless serve in her sister’s stead in the combining of the two spells which disguised ye previously.’

‘We can talk about that in a moment,’ Flute said. ‘First, though, I think we should all get some idea of how this part of the city’s laid out.’ The Goddess had resumed her more familiar form, and Bevier for one seemed much relieved.

‘Methinks this mount is not of natural origin, Divine One,’ Xanetia told her. ‘The sides are of uniform steepness, and the avenues which do ascend to the top are more stairways than streets. Cross-streets, however, do encircle the hill at regular intervals.’

‘Unimaginative, aren’t they?’ Mirtai observed. ‘Are there many of them wandering around out there?’

‘Nay, Atana. ‘Tis late, and most have long since sought their beds.’

‘We could chance it,’ Kalten mused. ‘If Flute and Xanetia can make us look like Cyrgai, we could just march right up the hill.’

‘Not in these clothes we can’t,’ Sparhawk disagreed.

Talen slipped out of the shadows to re-enter the passageway leading back to the central shaft of the well. In many ways the agile young thief could be nearly as invisible as Xanetia. ‘More soldiers coming,’ he whispered.

‘Those patrols could get to be a nuisance,’ Kalten said.

‘These aren’t like those others,’ Talen told him. ‘They aren’t patrolling the side-streets. They’re just climbing the stairs toward the top of the city. They aren’t wearing the same kind of armor either.’

‘Describe them, young master Talen,’ Xanetia said intently.

‘They’re wearing cloaks, for one thing,’ Talen replied, ‘and they’ve got a sort of emblem on their breastplates. Their helmets are different, too.’

‘Temple Guards then,’ Xanetia said, ‘the ones of which I spake earlier. I did glean from the thought of such few as I encountered that other Cyrgai do avoid them insofar as they might, and that all are obliged to bow down when they pass.’

Sparhawk and Bevier exchanged a long look. ‘There are the clothes you wanted, Sparhawk,’ Bevier said.

‘How many are there?’ Sparhawk asked Talen.

‘I counted ten.’

Sparhawk considered it. ‘Let’s do it,’ he decided, ‘but try to keep the noise down.’ And he led them out of the passageway into the street.

‘Good God, Ulath!’ Itagne exclaimed, ‘don’t do that! My heart almost stopped!’

‘Sorry, Itagne,’ the big Thalesian apologized. ‘There’s no really graceful way to come out of No-Time. Let’s go talk with Betuana and Engessa.’

They rode back to join the Queen and her general.

‘Sir Ulath just arrived with news, your Majesty,’ Itagne said politely.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Good news or bad news, Ulath-Knight?’

‘A little of each, your Majesty,’ he replied. The Trolls are a couple of miles east of here.’

‘And what’s the good news?’

He smiled slightly. ‘That is the good news. The bad news is that there’s another large force of Klæl’s soldiers waiting in ambush just south of here. They’ll probably hit you within the hour. They’re in our way, and we have to hurry. Sparhawk and the others are going to rescue Ehlana and her maid tonight, and he wants us all to converge on the city by morning.’

‘We must fight the Klæl-beasts then,’ she said.

‘That could be troublesome,’ Itagne murmured.

‘Tynian and I have worked out a solution of sorts,’ Ulath continued, ‘but we don’t want to offend you, your Majesty, so we thought I should stop by and talk it over first. Klæl’s troops are preparing to ambush you. I know you’d prefer to deal with that yourself, but in the interests of expediency, would you be willing to forgo the pleasure?’