Nothing about her apparel was suited for this heat. Her tunic chafed and rubbed her breasts, sweat pouring down the deep canyon between to tickle and torment. Her tight breeches made every step that much closer to agony. Even her boots, those fine fabrications from her home world done by her long- dead husband Reinhardt, seemed intent on making her miserable. Sand accumulated inside, crunching and cutting into her feet. Heat boiled upward through the thick soles and turned the insides to ovens. And worst of all was the sword belt suspended about her middle; she' d sooner die of heat prostration than abandon her sword and belt, but it weighted her down until she knew it had turned into tons of inert steel instead of a single pound and a half.
Inyx did not think of herself as a vain woman. She scorned the courtiers of the cities intent only on fine laces and silks and the most enticing of perfumes, but she found herself wishing for just those things. A silk tunic and breeches would be cooler. A lace scarf would keep the sun off her neck while allowing sweat to evaporate. And in place of a nice long, cool, bath to ease the aches, remove the stench of travel and soothe the body, Inyx prayed for even a small bottle of pungent perfume. Any odor, no matter how strong and artificial, had to be better than that she emitted. How long had it been since her last bath? The woman tried to remember and failed.
" In this Iron Tongue I detect the man Claybore would seek out. Tell me of him."
" Man? Iron Tongue? Hardly. He is a demon sent to scourge our world. The empire of Bron and the city- state of Wurnna are pledged to mutual destruction. And of the evil lurking in Wurnna, Iron Tongue represents the worst. I often think he flirts with insanity, sometimes deadly in his logic and rationality and other times totally disconnected from his own tenuous humanity."
Inyx said nothing. Jacy warmed to his topic, building a fine tirade against his enemy.
" He tortures small children. What he does to captured women is even worse, even more unspeakable. Of the men he imprisons, we know but little. They are forced into the power stone mines. None has ever returned, none has escaped."
" How do you know Iron Tongue is so unspeakably evil, then?"
" He is!"
Inyx fell silent. She realized she touched on a matter of faith with the man. Societies built up careful myths to protect themselves from having to deal with too much reality. This perpetual battle between Bron and Wurnna smacked of such an origin.
" He speaks and all listen. It is impossible not to obey. The man is evil."
" Are you personally familiar with this?" Even as she asked, Inyx knew the answer.
" I am. In my younger, more foolish days, I crept into Wurnna thinking to free my brother, ten days lost in a raiding party. I entered the walls undetected, but luck ran with me. All the populace of that foul city had gathered to listen to that necromancer. He spoke and: the air rumbled. I cannot describe it. But the words were repugnant to me and I believed. I actually believed them. He spoke and evil became the pinnacle of goodness. He spoke and I wanted to help slay my very own brother."
" His name. How did Iron Tongue get his name?"
Noratumi shrugged. He obviously did not wish to pursue the topic further. The memory of his brother and his own abortive rescue wore too heavily on him.
" I would not speak of such things. Rather, let us talk of you. Tell me of your life. How did one so lovely come to be a traveler along the Road?"
Inyx began, her words hesitant at first but soon rolling forth with the man' s encouragement. She found him a good listener, an attractive man, someone to unburden herself to now that Lan and Krek were gone. Even the heat became less of a bother as they walked and talked, sharing experiences and remembrances both pleasant and painful.
" When we arrive in Bron, there will be much rejoicing at such a discovery," said Noratumi.
" What discovery?"
" My discovery of a lady so beautiful, so charming. My discovery of you."
Somehow, she didn' t see the need to object when his arm circled her waist and pulled her close.
Five days of heat and footweariness brought them to a valley filled with green growing plants and fragrant pine trees, a cool breeze blowing off crystal- clear streams fed by mountain snows, real dirt instead of sterile sand, and even occasional animals curiously studying them as they passed by burrow and nest.
" This is the southernmost part of my empire," Noratumi said proudly. " This is why we fight. To give up even one tiny lump of its soil is unthinkable."
" It is gorgeous," Inyx agreed, but some small part of her remained wary. For all the apparent tranquility about them, this was not a peaceful holding. She saw no signs of battle or armed troops, but wondered if the images, the shadows, of such remained as a stain on the land.
" Bron sits high atop a rocky spire. Gentle green meadows surround it and-" He was cut off by the return of his scout. The man ran up, out of breath. " Get decent, man," said Noratumi, reaching out and shaking the green- and- brown clad man by the shoulders. " Report."
" Sire, it is terrible!"
" What is, dammit? Don' t go on like this."
" The grey- clads. They attack Bron!"
" So what else do you have to report? They were doing that when we left on our little sortie."
Inyx started to ask Noratumi the purpose of his mission into the desert, but he rushed on before she could properly frame the words. She had found that in this society questions had to be phrased in some fashion relating to the questioner' s ranking, that of the interrogated, and some other criteria she had yet to discover. If the question went unheeded, it meant a mis- asking.
" All are within the city' s walls, sire. You know what that means."
" Come, hurry, dammit. Don' t dawdle. We must give what aid we can to our city."
" How can we be of assistance?" Inyx finally asked.
" When cut, they bleed like anyone else. My sword will drink deeply of their scurvy souls this day. I will not tolerate the grey soldiers meddling in my kingdom!"
Their advance slowed as they came to the main road through the valley- spanning empire. Under other circumstances, Inyx might have made a few rude comments about how ill- repaired the road was for such a mighty kingdom. She held all such criticism back, knowing that road repair ranked low on a list of priorities now. Even the smallest of kingdoms deserved better than Claybore' s rule.
" There. See it, Inyx?" Jacy Noratumi pointed. Through the forest, rising above the treetops, surged the rocky pinnacle holding Bron. The stone walls of the city- state wavered as if they were still in the desert; the heated earth distorted sight. " Claybore' s troops will be encamped in that direction, down in Kea Dell. Attacking the camp avails us nothing. We are too few for that to prove successful. But there are other things to do."
" You can' t let them catch us between the main body of troops and their camp," protested Inyx. " There are too few of us to fight both toward and away from Bron."
Jacy Noratumi smiled wickedly.
" These are my forests. The grey interlopers know nothing of them. But come, I shall show you a small part of why they cannot take us as you suggest."
Noratumi gave hasty orders to his second in command, then drifted off as silent as any shadow into the forest. Inyx followed, matching his quiet. At first the man seemed surprised at her ability, then became occupied studying the soft brown loam.
" See? At least fifty mounted soldiers."
Inyx scanned the trees above, the boles and the ground before shaking her head.
" There were more. Notice the congestion of hoofprints here and here. Pieces of grey thread dangle from the bark, showing many rode off the path. Rains have caused some hardening of the earth at those points, but tracks have been left."