The Hidden City

There were a half-dozen men in nondescript clothing in the hallway outside the door to the room where the Emperor had been the last time Elysoun had visited him. Elysoun did not even think. ‘Sarabian!’ she shouted. ‘Lock your door!’

The Emperor, of course, did not. After a momentary shocked pause while the assassins froze in their tracks and Liatris blistered the air around her with curses even as she drew her daggers, the door burst open and Sarabian, dressed in Elene hose, a full-sleeved linen shirt, and with his long, black hair tied back, lunged out into the hallway, rapier in hand.

Sarabian was tall for a Tamul, and his first lunge pinned an assassin to the wall opposite the door. The Emperor whipped his sword free of the suddenly collapsing body with a dramatic flourish.

‘Quit showing off!’ Liatris snapped at her husband as she neatly ripped one of the assassins up the middle. ‘Pay attention!’

‘Yes, my love,’ Sarabian said gaily, crouching again into en garde.

Elysoun had only a small, neat dagger with a five-inch blade. It was long enough, though. An Arjuni assassin with a foot-long poniard parried Sarabian’s next thrust and, snarling spitefully, rushed forward with his needle-like dagger directed at the Emperor’s very eyes. Then he arched back with a choked cry. Elysoun’s little knife, sharp as any razor, had plunged smoothly into the small of his back, ripping into his kidneys.

It was Gahennas, however, who startled and shocked them all. Her weapon was a slim, curved knife. With a shrill scream, the jug-eared Tegan Empress flew into the middle of the fray, slashing at the faces of Chacole’s hired killers. Screeching, Gahennas hacked at the startled assailants, and Sarabian took advantage of every lapse. His thin blade whistled as he danced the deadly dance of thrust and recover. This is not to say that the Emperor of Tamuli was a master swordsman. He was fairly skilled, but Stragen might have found room for criticism. In truth, it was the wives who carried the day – or night, in this case.

‘Inside, my dear ones,’ Sarabian said, thrusting his savage women toward the door while he slashed at the empty air over the fallen assassins. ‘I’ll cover your backs.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Liatris murmured to Elysoun and Gahennas. ‘He’s such a baby.’

‘Yes, Liatris,’ Elysoun replied, wrapping one arm affectionately about her ugly Tegan sister, ‘but he’s ours.’

‘Kring’s coming,’ Khalad said quietly, pointing at the shadowy horseman galloping across the bone-littered gravel in the moonlight.

‘That’s not a good idea,’ Berit said, frowning. ‘Somebody might be watching.’

The Domi reached them and reined in sharply ‘Come away!’ he hissed.

‘What’s wrong?’ Berit demanded.

‘The Child Goddess says for you to come back to where the others are! The Cyrgai are coming out to kill you.’

‘I was wondering how long it was going to take them to decide to try that,’ Khalad said, swinging up into his saddle. ‘Let’s go, Berit.’

Berit nodded, reaching for Faran’s reins. ‘Is Lord Vanion going to do anything when the Cyrgai come out?’ he asked Kring.

Kring’s answering grin was wolfish. ‘Friend Ulath has a little surprise for them when they come through the gate,’ he replied.

Berit looked around. ‘Where is he?’ he asked. ‘I don’t see him.’

‘Neither will the Cyrgai – until it’s too late. Let’s get back away from this cliff. We’ll let them see us. They’ve been ordered to kill you, so they’ll come running after us. Friend Ulath has six or eight very hungry Trolls with him, and they’ll be right on top of the Cyrgai when they come out.’

‘Did he know where you were?’ Kalten asked tensely as they clung to the wall.

‘I don’t think so,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘He knows that I’m somewhere in the city, but there are several ways I could be listening to him. I don’t think he realized just how close I was when he started making threats.’

‘Are Berit and Khalad going to be all right?’

Sparhawk nodded. ‘Aphrael was with me when Zalasta made his little speech. She’s taking care of it.’

‘All right, Sparhawk,’ Mirtai called from above them, ‘here comes the rope.’

The free end of the rope came slithering down out of the dimness above them, and Sparhawk quickly climbed up. ‘How much further?’ he asked quietly when he reached Mirtai’s side.

‘About one more climb,’ she replied. ‘Talen’s already up there.’

‘He should have waited,’ Sparhawk fumed. ‘I’m going to have to have a talk with that boy.’

‘It won’t do any good. Talen likes to take chances. Is Kalten still dragging our equipment behind him? I’d hate to get up there and have to deal with things with my fingernails.’

‘He’s hauling it up – stage by stage.’ Sparhawk peered up the wall.

‘Why don’t you let me go on ahead this time? Get the others up there as quickly as you can. We’ve still got a lot left to do, and this night won’t last forever.’

She gestured up the rough stone wall. ‘Feel free,’ she said.

‘I don’t know if I’ve ever said this,’ he told her, ‘but I’m glad you came along. You’re probably the best soldier I’ve ever known.’

‘Don’t get emotional, Sparhawk. It’s embarrassing. Are you going to go up the wall? Or did you want to wait for the sun to come up?’

He started up, moving carefully. It was to their advantage that the north side of the tower was in shade, but the deep shadows made it necessary to feel for each hand-hold and to carefully probe with his toes for places to put his feet. He concentrated on the climbing and resisted the impulse to lean back to look at the wall above and the sharp line of the edge of the parapet some fifty feet further up.

‘What kept you?’ Talen whispered as the big Pandion clambered over the top of the balustrade marking the edge of the parapet.

‘I stopped to smell the flowers,’ Sparhawk replied acidly. He looked quickly toward the east and saw the faint light of false dawn outlining the mountains. They had at most one more hour of darkness left. ‘No sentries, I gather?’ he whispered.

‘No,’ Talen replied quietly. ‘The Cyrgai evidently feel that they need their sleep.’

‘Sparhawk?’ Kalten’s whisper came from below.