Sanctuary

Replacing her veil, she went back to the secret door behind the tapestry. Sahim called for her to wait, and she paused, one sinewy hand on the fringed tapestry.

“How can I get to the mage? I can’t leave him down there, hatching plots unhindered,” he said.

“You know assassins. Send some.”

Sahim’s laugh was bitter. “Cutthroats will never take Faeterus’s measure. I need someone better.”

Keth lowered her dust veil again. “There is a man, or rather, not a man. A laddad bounty hunter called Robien. I worked with him once.”

“Well, bring him to me, right away!”

“You’ll find him hard to work with.”

“Why? Is he a drunkard?”

“Worse.” She grinned. “He’s honest and true. Not like you at all.”

Tired of her insolence, he snapped, “Just get him! I’ll overlook his honesty if he can bring Faeterus before me.”

She bowed and went out the hidden door.

Sahim listened to the horns still blowing outside. The whole palace was quivering with marching soldiers and scurrying servants.

Damn all the foreigners! he fumed. They’re as bad as those desert savages.

* * * * *

While the Khan was surrounded by boiling excitement, the Speaker sat alone in his silent tent. Planchet and Hamaramis were out tending to his business. The servants had been given leave to be with their families.

Gilthas had never felt so alone. In all the years of separation from Kerianseray, while she lived and fought in the greenwood and he played the Puppet King in Qualinost, he always had felt close to her. They shared a connection that went beyond love, beyond proximity. During the terrible march into exile, they were apart for weeks at a time, each knowing the other might be killed at any moment, but still they had been connected. Now she was gone, in every sense of the word. Gone from his house, gone from his city, gone from his life.

He knew he had done his duty by removing her. She had no vision, no understanding of the delicate, dangerous path they must tread if their race was to survive. Her way would lead to total destruction. Yet duty was small comfort to him.

It was a good thing to be alone. No one should see the Speaker of the Sun and Stars weep.

* * * * *

Hytanthas brought the Lioness the news from the parley. The nomads were demanding her and the sorcerer Faeterus as their price for peace. The assembled warriors greeted this broadside with shouts of derision.

“Sounds like a good bargain,” Kerian remarked.

“Commander!” Hytanthas cried.

She stared out over the rolling dunes and at the dust raised by the nomad host on the move. A great deal of dust, from a great many horses. “It would be a fair bargain,” she said, “if they meant it.”

Unfortunately, she was certain they did not mean it. Nomads wouldn’t have come all this way just to avenge the camp massacre. That was nothing more than a convenient excuse, a wedge to pry apart the elves and Sahim-Khan. The nomads had no intention of giving up everything for the heads of two elves. They were on a mission to destroy every elf in Khur.

Still, it sparked an idea. She was confident her warriors could defeat the nomad host, but the war thus started wouldn’t end with this single battle. More and more tribesmen would join the fight, until the elves found themselves swamped by fanatics. Her dreams of retaking the elven homelands would founder beneath a horde of unshod hooves.

She studied the officers clustered around her horse. The longest serving among them was a Qualinesti named Ramacanalas. “Take command, Ramac,” she said. “I’m going to the nomads.”

Shouts erupted, and Hytanthas seized her horse’s bridle to keep her from riding away. She broke his grip and silenced them all with a hard-eyed glare.

“I’m going. Remain here. If the nomads move toward Khurinost, hit them as hard as you can with everything we’ve got.”

“They’ll kill you!” Hytanthas exclaimed.

The Lioness favored him with an ironic smile. “Not today.”

Chapter 16

Eight men abreast, the Khurish royal cavalry rumbled out the city’s north gate. Their armor was a mix of native and Nerakan style, with pointed helmets, angular breastplates, and Spiky knobs at every bend of knee, elbow, and ankle. Their favored weapon was a very heavy saber, its blade shaped like a crescent moon. Their mantles had started out royal blue, but long exposure to the harsh sun had faded them to the color of the spring sky over Khuri-Khan. The Khurs were among the best soldiers hired by the Dark Knights, but since the arrival of the elves Sahim-Khan had allowed the longstanding contract with Neraka to lapse. He had ample compensation from taxes, fees, and other official extort ions to replace the money paid by the Order.