“We are making good time,” Drakis said, gazing northward. “We’ll make the next mud city before nightfall. The Chief of the Day tells me that it’s the farthest north of the Hak’kaarin settlements. He also says that they often trade with humans there-actual free humans from the forests bordering the shore.”
The dwarf’s gaze remained downcast as he stumped along in silence.
Drakis walked alongside Jugar for a few moments as the silence stretched on.
“What? No long description of the wonderful customs of free humans in the wild?” Drakis chided. “No half-forgotten epic poem that will last us until sunset in its recital? No made-up facts about an ancient civilization from the past that is going to resurrect dragons from our nightmares and save us all?”
The dwarf looked away as he marched.
“Well, isn’t that my fate,” Drakis said, shaking his head. “As long as I’ve known you, I couldn’t get you to shut up, and the one time I want to talk to you, you lose your tongue!”
Jugar turned his head and glared at the human. “We do have a need to talk, my boy! But not so close to so many ears!”
The dwarf gave Drakis a great shove, pushing him into the tall grass bordering the trail and following in his wake.
“You dwarven fool,” Drakis exclaimed, “what are you up to now?”
“It’s time for you to be quiet and do as I say,” Jugar said with menace in his voice. “Keep walking and keep the trail in sight. The grass is taller than I am and will keep my words between us alone.”
“But I still don’t. .”
“Keep walking!” Jugar snapped. “Don’t look at me, look at the trail.”
“What’s this, dwarf,” Drakis said as he walked through the rustling grass. “What new game are you playing?”
“No game,” Jugar replied, “but we are the ones who are being played. See this?”
Drakis glanced down. “In your hand? That round ball of mud with some grass stuck in it?”
“It’s a good deal more than that, lad,” Jugar explained, “although it’s certainly meant to appear as innocent as you suggest. Only someone familiar with the magic involved would know its true purpose.”
“And I suppose that someone would be you,” Drakis said.
The dwarf spoke with pride. “I know a thing or two about magic.”
Drakis nodded. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. .”
“Soon enough, my boy,” Jugar interrupted. “But we must speak of this first. This, lad, is a beacon stone.”
“A beacon stone?” Drakis urged. He’d never had such trouble getting the dwarf to talk before. “What is a ‘beacon stone?’ ”
“It’s a device of the Iblisi,” Jugar replied. “It is used by the Inquisitors to find anyone who drops them along the way. They have many uses, but it would seem they are now being used to track us. Wait! Did you hear something?”
Drakis stopped. “You mean beyond the marching feet of several thousand gnomes? No, I don’t hear anything-and just what are you suggesting? That the Iblisi are still following us-all the way across the Vestasian Savanna?”
“More than that,” Jugar said. “That they are still following us is now certain. . but what we did not know before is that one of our trusted number is also helping them to do so.”
CHAPTER 35
The sun was setting by the time they reached the entrances to the mud city. Drakis wished as he forced his tired legs up the long sloping tunnel into the city that the Hak’kaarin would take the trouble to put different names to their settlements so that he could at least keep track of where they had been. For a time crossing the savanna he had occasion to wonder if the gnomes were somehow magically leading them back each night to the same mud city. A different name would have helped him at least feel some sense of progress. As it was, however, the Hak’kaarin’s rather odd view of physical possessions-they didn’t believe in them-led to an inability to distinguish any Hak’kaarin thing from another. They simply took whatever hovel-hole was unoccupied at the time in whatever mud city they found themselves, shared in the communal food, and worked at whatever job was needful at the time, and then, bidden by some inner impulse Drakis could only guess at, they would leave one mud city and make an arduous journey to the next. Some patterns in this chaotic life occasionally emerged; not all the gnomes were skilled at everything, and sometimes groups of them would gather who shared the same skills to teach each other what they had learned on their last pilgrimage. Yet such gatherings never seemed to last for very long and would dissolve just as quickly as they formed.
As to his own inner voices-the musical demons that seemed to torment his mind-they were making him increasingly uncomfortable on the road. Ever since the dwarf had told him that there was a traitor among them, he had not been able to shake the feeling that the sooner they left the beaten paths of the Hak’kaarin, the safer they would be. At least they would be in the wilderness again, and it might be easier to spot trouble as it approached and possibly catch this informer in the act of placing one of these beacon stones.
As to who that traitor might be, that was a painful thought that revolved in the music of his torment in every monotonous moment of walking whenever they moved between the mud cities.
manticore fanatic lunatic. .
Breaks with a crystalline sin. .
Never forgiven. . ever deceiving. .
Belag had evinced a near reverential attitude toward Drakis since the fall of House Timuran that was nothing short of fanatical, and yet there was something inside that fanaticism that Drakis did not and could not trust. He suspected that anyone so deeply committed to a single idea or person was probably likely to react just as strongly the other way if he felt betrayed in that commitment.
Lion-man hiding from shadows past. .
Fleeing from lands he once loved. .
Longing for lost homes. . Longing for dead tombs. .
Then there was RuuKag, a manticore whom he never liked even before his memories came flooding back. He had fought the group at every step, but recently he seemed more anxious than any of them to cross this savanna. He never explained himself either way, and his distrust seemed to breed it in everyone else.
Shifting the shapes of allegiances. .
Nebulous is his own heart. .
Constantly changing. . Soul rearranging. .
Ethis was demonstrably not only a manipulative and deceptive creature at his heart but now appeared to be highly trained for it. Drakis still shuddered to think of how the chimerian had appeared to him in the form of Mala.
Hope of a past now a memory. .
Love that was all just a game. .
Where does her heart lie? When does her tongue lie?
Then there was Mala herself, of course. Things had improved with her, and recently she had become almost cheerful. Her face was tanned now by their long day journeys between mud cities, and there was an almost robust health to her that was, he had to admit, an improvement over her former self. Yet he knew resentment still smoldered beneath the surface like banked coals waiting to burst again into hot hatred. Their bargain in the faery kingdom to pretend their painful past did not exist had only buried it shallowly.