Petru echoed her very thought.
“Surely it would be better to go naked than to wear that tunic and those trousers,” he said, as a Liskash strutted by, resplendent in a turquoise-dyed tunic that went well with neither his nether garment nor his pale blue skin. Cleotra smiled to herself. She adored Petru, and he was devoted to her. They understood one another. One day he would be her personal valet.
Large, muscular Liskash warriors in plate-sewn hide armor and heavy helmets patrolled the walls. They vanished into square towers in which she could see archers crouching. Flying lizards swooped in and out of the guardhouses, no doubt carrying messages and intelligence for the garrison. With such powerful magic at his command, whom did Lord Tae fear?
Surely not them. The Lailah was such a small tribe. They had come to supplicate him. She did not like the thought of begging a dino for their lives, but her pride must bow down and serve the needs of the clan. Ysella’s ridge was up, too. She felt the overwhelming power of the noble. She hissed to herself, and her eyes flashed at the Liskash escorting them. They did not seem very impressed by her or by Cleotra.
Good, the Dancer thought. They see us as harmless. All the better .
“We are here as peaceful envoys,” Sherril kept reassuring the Liskash captain. The spears and bowmen made the Mrem nervous. “The warriors are an escort of honor for our Dancers. The Dancer Cleotra must be protected and kept from outside interference, you understand. And of course, I am a person of great importance among the Mrem. I would not come unaccompanied. I did not before, if you recall. The weapons are only to keep us safe from brigands and thieves on the road, not to attack our host or his loyal servants. You are loyal to Lord Tae, are you not?”
This last question made the bright blue spots on the captain’s cheeks pale to gray.
“You dare to question me?” he hissed.
That put the proof to what Sherril had maintained, that Lord Tae ruled by fear. Cleotra dreaded meeting him.
The minister put an innocent hand to his chest. “You must not think that he has sent me out among you as a spy,” he said. “I am but a humble visitor from a distant land. My question is an innocent one.”
Innocent or not, it set the rest of the lizards on edge. Sherril strutted ahead of them, even outside the ring of bronze-tipped weapons that ought to have contained him. Cleotra wanted to laugh out loud. She was almost sorry she had not had Petru adorn him when he had asked. Perhaps she would grant him that favor later. His daring was as great a protection as the Dancer’s rituals or Emoro’s warriors.
The guards marched them around to the west side of the great keep. At the wooden tower, they came to a halt. A ladder made of sticks tied together with ill-cured hide thongs rested against the wall.
“Go on, then,” the captain said. “Up and over.”
Cleotra looked up. Three Mrem-heights above her was the first occupied level. To either side of the ladder were doorways set into the wall. Many lengths to the left along a very narrow walkway, nearly at the corner of the building, was another ladder leading to the second stage. Above that, at the center of the wall, a third ladder led to the roof, where two Liskash guards with ruddy-colored skin peered down at them.
“Which of these quarters is ours?” she inquired.
“Inside,” the captain said. His pikemen braced their weapons as if the question was a threat. “Go.”
Emoro barked out orders. Two of his warriors took their place to steady the ladder. He swarmed up it like a kitten a sixth of his age. Six males followed him. They spread out to await the Dancers’ ascent.
“Come up, Your Sinuousness,” he said, extending a hand.
Cleotra ascended to the stage and waited for Ysella to join her. The child was wide-eyed with nerves. She took the girl’s hand and squeezed it. Ysella gave her a nervous glance. She was doing well. Cleotra was relieved that the girl was holding up.
“Aedonniss will protect us,” she said.
Sherril made as if to climb up, but Petru shoved past him. He put one foot on the bottom rung and shot a smug look at him.
Cleotra shook her head. Their feud bid fair to put them all in danger. She was going to have to speak sternly to Petru, although little good seldom came from interfering with the valet. He was like a boulder rolling down a hill. He tended to crush anyone in his way, though usually for the sake of someone else, such as Cassa.
Sherril, his ruff fluffed out with annoyance, joined them. All but five of the remaining warriors and Scaro came up.
“Well, go on!” the Liskash captain ordered.
“My men and I stay here,” Scaro said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “My clawmaster’s orders. I guard the entrance to their quarters. This is where they are domiciled while they are guests of Lord Tae; this is where we wait until they come out again.”
The dino grunted. He was not smart enough to puzzle this out himself. He did seem to know that Mrem were faster and more nimble than his kind, so there would be injuries even if he summoned help to make all the pesty visitors stay in one place.
“Lord Tae did say that we could come and go as we pleased,” Sherril called down to the captain. The Liskash frowned, drawing his low brow even lower toward his muzzle.
“Very well,” he said. “I will see what is my lord’s will. Go on. Up and over.”
People lived within the walls of this pylon, Cleotra observed. Through an open door she spotted a female in an ugly orange shift tending an egg lying on a bed of straw. The top stage, though, was no more than a walkway half a Mrem-length in width. The Lailah tiptoed along it. The captain directed them to the other end of the wall to a ladder. Cleotra looked down.
Below them were two more stages with doors in the wall, but at the bottom was an open courtyard with a fountain where more guards waited.
“A fine trap,” Emoro growled, echoing her very thought. “Kick away the ladders and we’d be fish in a tidal pool, ready to be scooped up.”
Cleotra closed her eyes. She reached inside herself and felt for the strand of warmth that tied her to the other Dancers. They were there, comforting their distant sister. She sensed Cassa’s warm wisdom, the love of her fellow priestesses, and a more remote touch that she had always associated with Assirra. Cleotra sent a quick prayer to the goddess to plead with her husband to protect them, and felt a surge of energy in return.
“We are not alone,” she reassured Emoro. “Aedonniss is strong with us.”
“The gods be blessed,” the grizzled clawmaster said. “But we may need earthly strength to supplement His gifts.”
They climbed down to the ground level. Night had fallen by then. Torches lit the square with feeble, twisting spires of yellow light. Cleotra was hungry and footsore. The sound of the water tinkling in the fountain made her want to go and dunk her head. She longed to wash the dust off her face and out of her ears, but that would not be dignified. Instead, she played with the leaves and ropes of vines hanging from enormous metal openwork baskets on poles around the fountain. The desert through which they had been trudging for weeks had no such lush greenery. The scent soothed and pleased her.
The captain conferred with a small, skinny male in a long checked tunic and rope sandals. The male counted them.
“There were twenty-six,” he said, his throat pouch swelling impatiently. “Where are the other five?”
“Outside,” the captain said. “They are standing guard.”
“I have nothing in my instructions regarding that,” the functionary said. His black eyes were no more expressive than pieces of slate, but his voice sounded as fussy as any court official she had ever met. “They are all supposed to be here.”
“ You go tell them to come inside,” the captain said flatly.
The steward shrugged. Impatiently, he waved a hand, directing the Mrem toward the most remote corner of the courtyard.