Percepliquis Part 18

"Blessed Maribor, am I starved!" Mauvin declared as he tore open a bag of his own. His expression showed his disappointment, but he was not discouraged. After he tasted the contents, a smile returned. "That Ibis is a genius. This fish is wonderful!"

"I-have-the pork," Alric managed to get out around the food in his mouth. "Good."

"I feel as if I am back on a ship," Wyatt mentioned, but did not pause to explain why as he tore his bread with his teeth.

Myron negotiated a trade with Elden over walnuts-a discussion held without words. The little monk looked exhausted but managed to smile warmly at the giant as they debated with hand gestures and nods. Elden grinned back, delighted by the game.

After eating, Arista looked around for a place to sleep. It was not like bedding down in a forest, where you looked for a flat area clear of roots and stones. Here everything was rock. One place was as good as another, and all appeared to offer little in the way of comfort. With her pack in hand, she wandered toward the center of the shelf, thinking that at the very least she did not want to roll off. She spotted Hadrian far down at the low end of the rock. He was lying on his back, his knees up, his head on his blanket, which he had rolled into a pillow.

"Something wrong?" she asked, approaching cautiously.

He turned on his side and looked up. "Hmm? No."

"No?" She got down on her knees beside him. "Why are you all the way over here?"

He shrugged. "Just looking for some privacy."

"Oh, then I'm probably bothering you." She got up.

"No-you're not." He stopped her. "I mean..." He sighed. "Never mind."

He sounded upset, frustrated, maybe even angry. She stood hovering over him, unsure of what to do. She hoped he would say something, or at least smile at her. Instead, he refused to look her way. His eyes focused on the darkness across the cavern. The miserable, bitter sound of the words never mind echoed in her head.

"I'm going to sleep," she said at last.

"That's a good idea," he replied, still not bothering to look at her.

She walked slowly back to the center of the table, glancing at him over her shoulder. He continued to lie staring at nothing. It bothered her. If it were Royce, she would not give it a second thought, but this was not like him. She spread out her blankets and lay down, feeling suddenly awful, as if she had lost something valuable. She just was not sure what.

Her robe was dark. She had not noticed until that moment and could not recall when it had faded. They were all tired, even the robe. She looked up at the glowworms. They did look like stars. There must be hundreds of thousands.

The boy was pale, ghostly, his eyes sallow. His mouth hung slightly agape as if perpetually on the verge of asking a question, only he could no longer form words. She guessed it took all his mental capacity to keep from screaming. Jerish stood next to him. The fighter towered over the lad with a look that reminded her of a cornered mother bear. They were both dressed in common clothes, his armor and emblems left at the palace. He appeared to be a poor merchant or tradesman, perhaps, except for the long sword slung to his back, the pommel rising over his left shoulder as if keeping watch.

"Grinder," the boy said as she entered the station.

"Nary," she greeted him, and it took effort not to bow. He looked so much like his father-the same lines, the same clarity in his eyes, the cut of his mouth-the lineage of the emperor so obvious.

"Were you followed?" Jerish asked.

She smirked.

"A Cenzar cannot be followed?"

"No," she said bluntly. "Everyone still thinks I am loyal to the cause. Now we have to be quick. Here." She held out the necklaces. "This one is for you, Nary, and this is Jerish's. Put them on and never take them off. Do you understand me? Never take them off. They will hide you from magical eyes, protect you from enchantments, allow me to find you when the time is safe, and even provide you with a bit of luck."

"You intend to fight them?"

"I will do what I can." She looked at the boy. Her efforts had to be for him now, for his safety and his return.

"You cannot save Nareion," Jerish told her bluntly. She looked at the boy and saw his lips tremble.

"I will save what is dearer to him, his son and his empire. It may take time-a long time, perhaps-but I swear I will see the empire restored even if it costs me my life." She watched as they slipped the necklaces on. "Be sure to hide him well. Take him into the country, a.s.sume the life of a commoner. Do nothing to draw attention, and await my call."

"Will these really protect us from your a.s.sociates?"

"I will have no a.s.sociates after today."

"Even old Yolric?"

She hesitated. "Yolric is very powerful, but wise."

"If he is so wise, why is he with them? Is it not wisdom to preserve the empire and show loyalty to the emperor?"

"I am not certain Yolric is with them. He has always remained an island. Even the emperors do not influence him. Yolric does as he wishes. I cannot say what he will do. I hope he will join with me, but should he side with Venlin..." She shook her head sadly. "We must hope."

Jerish nodded. "I trust you to watch our backs. I never thought I would ever say that-not to a Cenzar... not to you."

"And I entrust you with the future of the empire and ultimately the fate of mankind-I certainly did not expect to be saying that to you."

Jerish tore off his glove and held out his hand. "Goodbye, Brother."

She took his hand in hers. This was the last time she would ever shake anyone's hand.

How do I know that?

"Goodbye, Nary," she told the boy. At the sound of her voice, Nevrik rushed forward and threw his arms about her. She hugged him back.

"I'm scared," he said.

"You must be brave. Remember, you are the son of Nareion, the emperor of Apeladorn, the descendant of Novron, the savior of our race. Know that the time will come when the blood descendant of Novron must protect us again-your descendant, Nary. It may take many years for me to defeat the evil that has risen today, so you must not wait. If you find a girl who makes your heart smile, make her your wife. Remember, Persephone was a mere farmer's daughter and she mothered a line of emperors. You must find a girl like that and have a family. Give your child your necklace and stay safe. Do what Jerish says. After this day, there will be no warrior greater than he. I will see to that as well." She noticed a dark look come over Jerish. "It is necessary," she told him, surprised at the ice in her own voice.

Jerish nodded miserably.

"What exactly do you intend to do?"

"Just make certain you are not in the city when I do it."

Tink! Tink! Tink!

Arista woke up cold and confused. The sense of urgency, the fear and concern, lingered. Her back hurt. The hard, damp stone tortured her strained muscles, leaving her feeling crippled. She rolled to her side with a miserable groan.

Tink! Tink! Tink! The sound of stone striking stone echoed.

She looked up but saw nothing. It was all black now. The worms were gone or no longer giving off light.

Tink!

There was a spark of white light and in that brief flash she spotted Magnus, hunched over a pile of rocks, only a few feet from her.

Tink!

"Ba, durim hiben!" he growled. She heard him shift position.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked.

"Six hours," the dwarf replied.

Tink! Another flash, another incomprehensible grumble.

"What is it you are doing?"

"Frustrating and embarra.s.sing myself."

"What?"

"It's just been so long, although that's really no excuse. I can hardly call myself a Brundenlin if-"

Tink! Another flash-this time it did not go out. The spark appeared to linger, amazingly bright. Instantly Magnus bent down and she could hear him blowing. The spark grew brighter with each puff. Soon she could clearly see the face of the dwarf-the ridges of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the beard trimmed short, all highlighted by the flickering glow. His dark eyes glistened, eagerly watching the flame he breathed life into.

"We have no wood," she said, puzzled, as she sat up.

"Don't need wood."

She watched him pile fist-sized stones on top of the little flame. He blew again and the fire grew. The stone was burning.

"Magic?"

"Skill," he replied. "Do you think they only have fire on the outside? Drome taught the dwarves first. In the deep, the blood of Elan bubbles up. There are rivers of burning stone, red and yellow, flowing thick and hot. We taught the secret of fire to the elves, much to our regret."

"How old are you?" she asked. It was common knowledge that elves lived longer-much longer-than humans, but she had no idea about dwarves.

Magnus looked at her through squinting eyes and pursed his lips as if he had tasted something bitter. "That's not a polite question, so I will be just as rude and ignore it. Since you feel you still need me, I trust you won't burn me to a cinder for it."

Arista rocked back. "I would never do such a thing. Perhaps you've forgotten I am not the one who randomly commits murder."

"No? My mistake. Apparently you're only content with enslavement." He tugged at his cropped beard.

"Would you have come if the empress had merely asked?"

"No. What care is it of mine if the elves erase you? It would restore the world. Humans have always been a blight, like the Ba Ran Ghazel, only with the Ghazel you know where you stand. They don't pretend to accept you when they want something, then shove you out in the cold when they're done with you. No, the Ghazels' hatred is up front and honest, not like the lies of the humans."

"I'd listen to him, Princess. He is an expert on betrayals."

The voice, low and threatening, came out of the darkness and Magnus jumped up, scrambling toward her, as if for protection. A moment later Royce appeared at the edge of the fire's light.

"I just wanted the dagger," Magnus replied, a hint of desperation in his voice, which rose an octave higher than normal.

"I understand, and I promise that the moment this business is done, I will make a present of it to you," Royce told him with a hungry look in his eyes that gave even Arista's heart pause. "Be sure to keep me informed of his usefulness, won't you, Your Highness?"

"He's actually being very helpful-so far," she replied.

"Too bad," Royce said. "Still, I have every confidence that will change. Won't it, Magnus?" He glared at the dwarf for several minutes as if expecting an answer; then the thief looked at her. "Better get everyone up. It's time we got moving."

Royce turned and disappeared silently into the cave's gloom. When she looked back at the dwarf, Magnus was staring at her with a surprised, almost shocked, expression, as if something about her suddenly mystified him. He turned away and grumbled something she did not catch before returning to his pile of burning rocks.

Magnus's campfire made the process of getting up and having breakfast almost cheerful and lent a sense of normality to their queer surroundings. The bright yellow flicker reminded Arista of her days traveling with Royce and Hadrian, and of her trip to Aquesta. It was shocking to think of those days as better times. Her life since the death of her father had been one long cascading fall that had left her tripping over ever greater troubles.

She could hardly imagine a more desperate state than the one she faced now. There wasn't much that could top the extinction of mankind. She was certain, however, that it would never come to that. Even should the elves prevail, even if they sought to eradicate humans, she suspected there would be pockets that survived. It would be like trying to kill all the mice in the world. A few would always survive. She looked around the cave as she sat tying up her hair for the day's journey. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, could live down there alone. Like her father, she was not an overly religious person, and yet she could not believe that Maribor would let his people vanish from the face of Elan. He had saved them before. He had sent Novron to s.n.a.t.c.h them from the brink, and she suspected he would do so again.

Myron ate breakfast with Elden much as he had dinner. The two communicated in silence while Wyatt rolled up blankets. She had no idea what to make of Wyatt. He and Elden kept mostly to themselves, rarely speaking, and usually only to each other. They did not seem a bad sort, not like Gaunt. Degan bothered her like a splinter in her skin. How he could be the descendant of Novron was bewildering, and not for the first time she wondered if perhaps Esrahaddon had gotten it wrong.

They lit lanterns from the dying flames of the campfire, and after packing up, Royce roamed about the cavern, disappearing from view occasionally. Only the glow of his lantern showed his position.

"Wrong way," she heard Magnus mutter, his arms folded, his foot tapping the stone. "Better... better... now up... up-yes!"

From across the cavern they could see Royce swinging his light and they marched forward. They climbed a sheer cliff to a crack in the rock and sliced through to another chamber. Then they climbed down into another long pa.s.sage into yet another cavity. Each looked the same as the ones before, smooth walls and wet, pool-scattered floors.

"I thought caverns were supposed to have long cone-shaped stones hanging down from the ceiling," Alric mentioned as they entered yet another chamber.

"Not old enough," Magnus said.

"What's that?" the king asked.

"These caves, they're not old enough for dripstones to form. It takes tens of thousands of years. These..." He looked around, pursing his pudgy lips. "These tunnels are young. I doubt they have existed for more than a few thousand years and most of that time this was underwater from a powerful river. That's what carved the walls and rounded the rocks. You also need limestone and this isn't that kind of cave. Actually..." He paused, then stopped to pick up a rock. As he weighed it in his hand, a puzzled look came over his face.

"What is it?" Mauvin asked.

"The rocks here are from the surface." He shrugged. "Perhaps the river carried them." He continued to stare, licking his teeth, for several seconds before dropping it and moving on.

They entered another narrow s.p.a.ce but not nearly so tight as before. This was an irregular pa.s.sage about the size of a typical second-story castle corridor. Low ceilings caused them to duck and rough ridges made them step around, but the way was considerably easier and more comfortable than those previously encountered. The pa.s.sage was in a constant descent, growing more p.r.o.nounced with each step. They followed the glow of Royce's lantern and kept track of the back of their procession by the bob of Hadrian's. As on the previous day, Arista walked in the middle, her robe glowing softly.

They heard a rush, as if someone far away was beating a drum. The sound echoed, making it hard to determine what direction it was coming from. They all paused, looking around nervously. Arista felt a slight breeze forming and realized what was coming. At the same instant, she knew that outside, the sun had just risen.

"Here they come," Hadrian called out.

Arista crouched down, pulling the hood of her robe up over her head as through the corridor swept the same mult.i.tude of bats that had frightened her in the shaft the evening before. The world around her filled with squeaks and flutters; then the wind pa.s.sed and the sound moved away. She stood up and peeked out and saw the others lowering their arms as well. A few slow strays continued to fly by when one not far from Myron was s.n.a.t.c.hed from the air. The monk staggered backward with a gasp and fell in front of Elden, who picked the monk up as if he were a doll.

"Snake," Wyatt announced. "A big black one."

"There's dozens of them," Royce explained.

"Where?" Alric asked.

"Mostly behind you on the walls."

"What?" the king said, aghast. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Knowing would only make traveling slower."