The cateran enforcer carried a crossbow and strolled idly back and forth along the mound. His talons gripped and released the pestilential muck. He relished this moment. As the officer who had captured Gerrard, he was given the honor of presiding over the execution. An execution by muck. It was an honor no Mercadian noble would have wanted.
"And now, we see the man for what he truly is! No giant killer, but rubbish!"
The cateran lifted his crossbow, lit the pitch-tipped quarrel, and fired a flaming shot into the sky. The bolt raced upward, disappearing except for the bright glow of fire it carried. All eyes except the prisoners' followed it upward. In time, even the fire was lost against the lemon sky.
Something else appeared to take its place. Along the rim of the city directly above, three bins of rubbish suddenly tilted. The vile stuff that disgorged from those bins sloughed down in a black and shapeless mass. Three muck-loads became one, spiraling toward ground like a black demon. It dropped straight down, not seeming to move but only to grow slowly larger.
"Won't you look up? Won't you see your coming doom?" hissed the cateran. "Judgment from the sky falls on each of us but once. Do you truly wish to miss the spectacle?"
Whether from the goading or from some impulse of their own, the three condemned men raised their eyes in unison. They saw the black monster of filth rushing down from sky. Faint smiles formed on their faces. Even Karn's jaw seemed to grin.
"Defiant to the last," Xcric growled, staring at his happy prisoners. "Smiles won't save you! Farewell forever, Giant Killer!" The cateran enforcer raised his arm in an angry fist.
And then Xcric was gone, buried under hundreds of tons of filth.
Chapter 11
"The new giant killers!" hissed a nobleman near the door of the magistrate's chambers. He startled from the bench where he had lain, scooped up a half-finished hunk of cheese, and withdrew among tapestries and tiles. The four women who had just entered the chambers were a forbidding sight. Sisay wore black-metal armor and an indomitable look beneath her saffron riding cloak. She was clearly the warrior of the group. Beside her strode Orim, swathed in turban, veils, and healer's cloak. She shimmered with the silvery light of a Cho-Arrim mystic. Hanna wore an artificer's jump suit-the mastermind. And leather-armored Takara was the fiery will that united them all. Swords and tridents shone naked in their hands as they marched toward the magistrate's seat.
It wasn't weaponry or armor that made nobles scurry back and guards cringe. Since the women's escape, their fame had swelled. It was said each had slain twenty giants, hoisted a twenty-ton wagon of refuse on her back, and hurled it twenty yards beyond the rim to crash down atop the cateran, Xcric. Or was it forty giants, forty tons, and forty yards? Numbers are tricky but inconsequential. What mattered was that these women were unstoppable, cheered by the rabble and feared by the soldiery.
The deadly ladies passed by broad columns and entered the round glow of the rotunda. Unopposed, they came to a stop before the magistrate's dais.
He eyed them with trembling dread, and his gaze flitted hopelessly toward the guards at the door. They made no move.
Takara spoke for the foursome. "We come to bargain."
A Kyren appeared from behind the throne and began to speak.
Takara pointed angrily at it. "Get back! We've no time for nonsense. We deal with the magistrate only!"
With grinning fear, the Kyren backed away.
Corpulent and tremulous, the man on the dais said, "We are honored by the presence of the new giant killers and would be pleased to hear whatever bargain you might offer. Do you seek your freedom?"
Takara spoke with steel in her voice. "We have already won our freedom."
"Yes," the magistrate allowed uncomfortably. "On the other hand, your friends have not won their freedom, or even their lives."
"We ask only a stay of execution while we work out our bargain," Takara said.
"Speak on."
"You have our ship, but you cannot repair it. It is useless to you. We offer this bargain-we will repair Weatherlight and fly it on a mission in service of Mercadia in exchange for our friends' freedom and possession of the ship once the mission is complete," Takara said.
The chief magistrate nodded in consideration. Behind his pursed lips lurked a smile. "Your friends would be held captive until the mission was complete? Their lives are held in security?"
"Yes. And if you wisely choose Weatherlight's mission, you can make its singular appearance have an effect for centuries," Takara said.
The magistrate nodded, jowls rippling.
"There are conditions," Orim spoke up. "You cannot order Weatherlight to assault the Cho-Arrim in any way. They have suffered enough."
"Granted."
"And we need Mercadian assistance to repair the ship," Orim continued.
Shrugging, the magistrate said, "Whatever you require."
"We require passage to Saprazzo, realm of merfolk beyond the sea."
Brow furrowing, the magistrate said, "For what possible purpose?"
"To acquire the piece needed to repair the ship-an artifact called the Matrix."
A hiss of laughter came from the dais. "Do you truly believe you can steal the national treasure of the Saprazzans?"
"No," Orim said. "We will not steal it. We will bargain for it. And that is why we must be sent as ambassadors of Mercadia. We must be entrusted with the right to bargain on behalf of the city for this object."
"Outrageous! How shall foreigners represent Mercadia?"
"Send your own delegation along with us, if you must," Orim said. "They will assure the interests of Mercadia are guarded. We will function as ambassadors only in respect to acquiring the Matrix, and we will do so only to repair a ship that will perform a great service for Mercadia."
The hidden smile behind the magistrate's lips emerged now fully. "Perhaps we will merely acquire this item without you."
Takara spoke with a near sneer, "You have no idea how to incorporate it into the ship. And should you choose to deny us, perhaps we will simply orchestrate another escape, and bring old and new giant killers here to slay you and your Kyren court, and take back our ship and strafe this city until it is rubble." She smiled a dagger smile. "It is, as they say, your choice."
An ironic look crossed the magistrate's face. "Perhaps, and perhaps not. But the bargain is agreed to. You will go as emissaries to Saprazzo, in company with true ambassadors, will secure the Matrix and bring it to Mercadia to repair the ship, then will fly the ship on a mission of my choosing- not against any Cho-Arrim targets-and thereby win your friends' freedom and your ship."
"There is one more condition," Sisay said. "And this is nonnegotiable."
"What else could you possibly want?"
"A thousand gold to the family of farmer Tavoot…"
A week later, Sisay, Hanna, and Orim set out for Saprazzo. Takara remained in Mercadia to tend her father and make certain Gerrard and the other prisoners were treated well.
Though Sisay, Hanna, and Orim had intended to ride Jhovalls to the sea, the Mercadians would not deign the dust and fur of such a transit. Instead, they rode in silk-veiled litters borne by gray-skinned giants. Retinues of servants conveyed wine and fans and cheese. The ambassadors seemed incapable of traveling more than two or three hours a day and that only in the cool of early morning. During much of the day they sat in their tents complaining about the heat, the dust, and the long hours.
At first Sisay and Hanna had ridden in the curtained litters. By the second day, however, they found they preferred to walk or ride Jhovalls. Indeed, the pace was so leisurely that at the end of the day the only aches and pains they suffered were from sitting in one place too long.