“My lord is kind.” Dimo turned and was gone in a swirl of cloth. He dove from the chariot, hitting the gravel with two front paws, and a black warbeast streaked off over the plain. The furry things shied, tossing their heads and humming oddly, but they did not panic as onagers would have done. Felice, who had caught the brown chlamys before it dropped, bundled it up and put it at his feet inside the car.
The tension had eased. Felice barked out commands to the rest of his men. Men sprang down from chariots when he named them. His dark eyes looked over the visitors and settled on Fabia with a smile that showed white, regular teeth and an invitation to flirt. Florengia must be full of young men with that glowing brown skin, although surely few of them would show it off as well as this one. For far too long she had been limited to the company of men who were not interested.
He offered a hand. “Lady Fabia? Will you honor me?” Realizing that she had no further use for the smelly, dirty bedroll she had carried so long, she tossed it aside and accepted his hand up. She grabbed the rail as a flip of his reins sent the rig shooting forward. The car was small enough to be intimate and would be a tight squeeze for two big Heroes.
“All right?” He wrapped an arm around her, enveloping her in his chlamys.
“ Quite all right, thank you, Flankleader. I am no stranger to chariots.”
“Pity.” He left his arm behind her, but gripped the rail instead of her, which was an acceptable compromise. Why did he bother? She had never felt so like a midden in her life. Her clothes were rotting off her. Her hair, her skin…
“You actually walked over Veritano Pass, all the way?”
“My boorish brothers refused to carry me.” The chariot rode more smoothly than hers had, back in Skjar, although the flatness of the terrain helped. Three more teams were following, leaving two chariots and seven men stranded on the Altiplano until another party could be sent to pick them up. “Marno Cavotti is here, at Veritano?”
“I did not say so.” His smile said so.
Incredible fortune! Or was it? Cavotti would soon devise his own plans for the Celebre hostages, and their own wishes might not carry much weight.
“He will be surprised to meet us.”
“Yes, even Marno could not expect to find you here. Of course,” the flankleader added mischievously, “he may have some surprises for you, too.”
“What does that mean?”
“Wait and see.”
“How long does it take to go from Veritano to Celebre?”
“About a sixday by chariot. The Mutineer can do it in less, but he needs many relays of guanacos.”
“I must go to my mother,” she said, feeling a sudden lump in her throat. Not that she could remember Oliva. It must be the idea of motherhood that affected her-that, and pity for a woman whose life had been so blighted. “I was only a baby when I was torn from her arms. And now my father is dying. This just doesn’t feel real.”
“Our news is a few days old, but the last I heard, the Liberators and ice devils were still feinting at each other near Celebre. So far neither has tried to occupy the city. I heard the… heard someone say just last night that Celebre could be critical. There will have to be one big battle before this thing is over.”
“What will you do with the prisoners when it is over?”
Felice’s face hardened. “I don’t know that word. Prisoners?”
That was a chilling reminder that she was in a war zone, and not a mere bystander either, if Celebre was important.
The road dipped into a gully, which rapidly widened and began to wind, heading steeply downward. Side gullies merged with it. When the trail grew rough, Felice slowed the team, but not so much that he and his passenger would not be bounced together at every lurch. He wrapped his arm around her again, holding all the reins in one large hand and letting the guanacos follow the trail more or less by themselves, taking corners on one wheel. She knew he was showing off, but she was impressed anyway. The cliffs grew higher, sculpted into bizarre pinnacles and towers. Patches of green appeared, brightening the arid ground.
Soon huge black birds screeched and flapped, some fighting up into the air, others just cavorting along the ground. Vigaelia had similar creatures, although smaller. Whatever their names, they fed on carrion. As the chariot hurtled past the first kill, she caught a glimpse of a large, yellow-furred dead thing, ripped and bloody, a glint of brass. Then she saw more of them. Some of them were visibly human, some indeterminate. No black or brown ones, though. Those would have been treated with more respect.
“Last night’s losers?”
“They tried to break out to the pass,” Felice said carelessly. “Of course our leader had anticipated that and posted a full hunt here to stop them. You should thank the gods that none of them got past us.”
Thinking about that, she did not speak again for a while.
The valley was still spreading out on either side, flat bottomland carpeted with lush vegetation and flanked by cliffs receding into the distance. She was amazed at how far they had descended. The air was gentle, wonderfully easy to breathe. Florengia was much warmer than Vigaelia, Orlad had warned her, quoting his friend Gzurg. According to Dantio, much of the time it was a steam bath. Thinking of which…
“Is that steam?” She pointed at the nearest of several plumes.
“Warm springs,” Felice told her. “The source of the Puisa.”
“Who?”
He gave her an odd look. “The river that flows through Celebre. Veritano is famous for its hot baths.”
“Now I know I’m dreaming. Don’t make any loud noises.”
Soon they passed a string of chariots heading out to rescue the rest of Felice’s men. He released Fabia long enough to make a hand signal that probably meant the situation had not changed since Dimo’s report. The other leader waved acknowledgment.
Brown and black guanacos grazed in emerald fields. Obviously that was Veritano ahead, a complex of adobe buildings with red tile roofs and strange, feathery trees-and several lazy columns of steam.
“Finest place in the Altiplano,” Felice said. “Used to be a sanctuary. Lords and ladies came here to enjoy the warm springs. When the Fist took it over, Sinura left.”
“Smart goddess.”
The car rattled through an arch into a wide courtyard. Along one side many chariots stood in rows, their shafts pointing skyward. A small paddock had been railed off on the other, and men grooming guanacos there stared in surprise at Felice’s passenger as he drove past them, heading to a gate at the far side. She noted signs of neglect-tiles missing, walls crumbling, creepers and other greenery running riot. The chariot rattled to a halt.
At the gate stood a giant, fists on hips. Fabia had seen big Werists and bestial Werists, but this one was both, grotesquely misshapen and thickly furred with black hair. All of him, especially his face, seemed cruelly lopsided. A stub of horn the size of a thumb protruded from his forehead and massive brows overhung his eyes like the roof of a cavern, while his chin was lost under a toothy protruding muzzle. He wore the same sort of knee-length chlamys Felice did, but his was green, and linen instead of wool. Oddly shaped boots and a brass collar completed his attire. Could this monster be the celebrated Mutineer, the man who had outwitted and outfought Bloodlord Stralg?
He was the most repulsive parody of a man she had ever seen. Even Horold Hragson had seemed more human than this.
She liked him even less when he smiled, for that muzzle was all teeth, too many huge, onager-sized teeth. He stepped forward and offered a very large hand. Fabia had trouble not shuddering as she accepted it, noting black claws tipping the thick fingers.
Murmuring, “Thank you, Flankleader,” to Felice, she stepped down.
“Lady Fabia? I am Marno Cavotti.” He did not bow, and for her to curtsey in the rags she wore would be ridiculous.
“I used to be Fabia Celebre, my lord. I hope to be so again, once I have bathed and dressed. I am happy and honored to meet you. All Vigaelia knows your name and supports your cause.”