He walked away from the others, closer to the fire’s warmth, and let the family mourn their dead. For Aric, having lost the father he had never known and hated for his absence, there would be no mourning at all.
XXI
Nibenay
They were too late. From the top of a hill they could see the fertilized fields flanking the city walls, the Plain of Burning Water, and Nibenay itself, gleaming in late afternoon sun. But rolling through the Mekillot Gate were wagons laden with steel. They were spread well apart, but one was just passing beneath the musicians atop the gate, and others had already entered the city. The expedition had beat them home, and Kadya—Tallik as well, no doubt—with it.
Aric had been surprised that the others, those of the Thrace family, had kept to their original agreement. Even without Myklan, they would return to Nibenay with Aric, in hopes of warning the Shadow King or, failing that, of finding a way to stop Kadya. That fact filled Aric with relief—if they hated him, they would still see through the struggle ahead.
The night of Myklan’s death, no one had rested much. In the morning, after a brief discussion, they had pushed on, driving themselves and their kanks ever faster. The procession had been a grim one, with little laughter or spirited conversation, but in the end, although it made the days feel long, it probably made the trip shorter.
And here they were, and they were too late, and Aric felt like he had swallowed an erdlu egg, shell and all. It sat between his throat and his chest, aching.
All of it, the journey, the battles, rescuing Rieve and her family, and for what? Kadya would have entered the city in the first argosy, or mounted, even on foot—but at the head of the procession, so everyone could see her triumphant return. By now she was deep in the city.
“Now what?” Ruhm asked. The goliath had come up behind Aric, loomed over his shoulder, and Aric hadn’t even noticed.
“I don’t know.”
“Kill the demon,” Mazzax said. Aric looked around. Everyone had dismounted, and stood gathered together on the hilltop.
“Not so easily done,” Aric said.
“Why not?”
“We don’t even know where Kadya is now. Or who’s protecting her. If she’s with Nibenay, or with her sister templars …”
“As long as the city stands,” Myrana said, “we have a chance, don’t we? Perhaps the demon bides its time.”
“We’ve come this far,” Sellis added. “And it was a hard slog. I’m for Nibenay, either to kill a demon or to have a drink and find a bed to sleep in tonight.”
Pietrus shivered with terror. His mother cradled him in her arms. “We’ll let nothing happen to you, Pietrus. We all heard your father confess to the crimes you were accused of, and any blame will be laid at his feet. You’re safe now.”
“He had better be,” Rieve declared.
“Kill the demon!” Mazzax repeated.
“Yes,” Aric said. “Let’s kill the demon.”
“Do we know how?” Ruhm asked.
“Haven’t the faintest idea.”
“Magic!” Mazzax pointed to Myrana and Sheridia. “Kill it with magic!”
“Good a plan as any,” Aric said. “Let’s see what we can do.”
They started down the hill. As they descended, they saw smoke rise up from the city’s center, tinted green and yellow and blue. “That’s from the Naggaramakam,” Tunsall observed. “They’re already celebrating.”
“A celebration that’ll go far into the night,” his wife added. “They’re lighting fires for warmth, and adding color to the smoke to display their joy.”
“Then they must not know yet,” Aric said. “About Tallik, I mean.”
“Myrana’s right,” Rieve said. “The demon probably isn’t acting right away. He’s been confined beneath Akrankhot for a thousand years or so, right? And then freed by Kadya, and carried inside her? He probably wants to see how things are before he stirs things up. For all he knows, the entire city-state will be as welcoming as Kadya was. If it is, then he might not be bent on its destruction, but on preserving it to use as his new home.”
“Whatever the demon’s got in mind,” Sellis said, “I doubt it’s anything good.”
“I’m certain of that,” Aric agreed. He watched colored smoke drift into the still air above the city, and a thought came to him. “But if they’re already celebrating, then Kadya must be inside the Naggaramakam. She’ll be the toast of the celebration, right? That’s where we’ll find her—and the Shadow King. Perhaps we can still do something.”
“But … nobody’s ever been inside the Naggaramakam,” Corlan pointed out. “No free person. How do we get in? And even if we do, how do we get out again?”
“I don’t know if we’ll ever get out,” Aric said. “But I haven’t come this far to fail now. As for getting in?” He pointed at the last argosy, its mekillot struggling to haul the weight up the road toward the big gateway. “We’ll use that.”
“What?”
“Just come with me!” Aric broke into a run. Behind him, some tried to prod their exhausted kanks on faster, then gave up and dropped off them.
The final argosy was just near enough the gate to hear the musicians. As Aric raced toward it, he could see its drivers swaying, already caught in the music’s irresistible spell. There wouldn’t be many people inside, if any—the thing looked as if its wheels would give out at any moment, so it was burdened by the weight of a massive amount of metal.
Aric had easily outdistanced his companions, but he had to act fast, before he was seen, so he didn’t wait for them. He jumped onto the argosy’s side, landing with quiet, sure-footed grace, and climbed to the top. He could hear the music, too, and had to fight not to give in to it and start dancing. He let the music fill him just enough to add a sinuous fluidity to his motions as he crept toward the front.
Ruhm’s footfalls pounded closer, in counterpoint to the music wafting from the gate. “What’s that?” one of the drivers asked.
Aric reached the argosy’s front just in time to see another poke his head out and spot Ruhm. “It’s a goliath,” he said. “Running at us.”
“Well, kill him!” the first one said.
Aric drew his sword, and before the second could tuck his head back into the argosy’s depths, he crouched low and swung it. It sheared through the man’s neck, and the head flew out, bounced, and vanished beneath the big wagon.
“What—?” the driver cried.
Aric heard him fumbling with the panel that he could close, to keep those inside safe from Athas’s winds and cold. The reins went slack as he worked it. Aric climbed down, and Ruhm reached the wagon at the same time, jumping up onto the tongue. The driver managed to slam the panel shut but not to latch it, and Ruhm’s massive fist opened it again. Aric slid through the gap, sword in hand. He ran the driver through while the man was still drawing his own.
“Sorry,” Aric said as he pulled his sword free and the man died. “It’s nothing personal, but we need this thing.” He stuck his head out the window. “Go around back!” he told Ruhm. “Open the doors so we can get rid of some steel!”
Ruhm dropped off the wagon without comment. Moments later, Aric heard him pawing at the doors, then they opened and light flooded the inside. As he had expected, there were no other guards, just a mass of metal, stacked as high as the single mekillot could manage to pull.
“We need some speed!” Aric shouted.