Despite the air in here, which was pretty funky from too many bodies pressed too close together, and the constantly jostling crowd, and my seriously aching calf muscles, I still felt it—the weight of centuries pressing down like an extra atmosphere.
Caleb had been right; this place was old. Older than our pyramids, older than anything on earth. Maybe as old as this world itself, since there were chisel marks on the dark red stone, but no mortar lines that I could see. It was as if it had been carved instead of built. As if some giant had whittled away a mountain from the top down, leaving the pieces that fit his crazy blueprint and carrying away the rest.
It should have been impressive, and maybe if I was a tourist it would have been. As it was, it was more intimidating. I felt the knot in my stomach draw a little tighter, even before we stumbled out the other side a few minutes later.
Into something that looked a lot like a souk.
Shops lined streets going in all directions like spokes on a wheel. And selling everything from spices to live animals, bright metalware to gauzy clothing, pottery to vegetables, fish to leather goods, and wool to fresh-baked bread. Merchants called out offers to us new arrivals even as they tried to roll up the awnings over their shops, or light the lanterns strung like stars over the streets, or slap fresh meat onto grills, sending up mouth-watering aromas to tantalize our dust-covered taste buds. It was loud and raucous and crowded and strangely jolly, but Caleb didn’t appear enthralled.
“Servants, my ass,” he muttered.
It took me a moment to realize what he meant, because most of the people hanging around the gate, waiting for friends and family to come out, looked like a mix of those on the road. With one exception. A depressing number had what looked like slaves following along behind, thin men and women, and in some cases children, in bare feet and simple tunics, their arms reaching for packages and boxes or the reins of animals.
Most of the slaves didn’t look native. Some of them didn’t even look human. I was staring, probably rudely, at one with mottled blue skin and what looked like a few extra arms when Rian grabbed my sleeve.
Because yeah.
The guards were thick on the ground in here, too.
They were slightly less obvious, lounging by food stalls or interspersed with the crowd by the gate. But there were plenty of them, scanning the new arrivals with the watchfulness of cops and security forces everywhere. And they didn’t look like they missed much.
But they missed us, thanks to Caleb.
He waved a hand, sending a jolt of something to goose the last in a line of camels a little ways in front of us. It gave a startled bleat and crashed into the next in line, and then the whole group, already tense from the dark tunnel they’d just been through, were bellowing and bucking and scattering in all directions. The frantic driver and his boy ran after them, yelling for help, which they reluctantly got from some of the merchants with vulnerable piles of fruit and veg.
They didn’t get any from the guards.
But for a moment, everyone was watching the show instead of the line, and we slipped through.
“This way, quickly,” Rian said, pulling us out of the crush around the gate and into the more anonymous crowd.
Or, at least, that’s what it looked like she said. I couldn’t hear a damned thing. To the sounds of people talking and cart wheels squeaking and animals bleating and merchants cursing and music blaring from every tavern on every street had just been added a blast of horns from the higher walls, heralding the arrival of night.
I grabbed Rian’s arm, so I wouldn’t lose her, and gave up on subtlety. Nobody could hear me in all this anyway. “Where are they keeping him?” I yelled, only to have her nod at the street directly ahead of us. And say something I couldn’t make out, because I don’t have vampire hearing.
But then, maybe I didn’t need it.
Far above the smelly, raucous, lively streets was a long, low, elegant building of balconies and terraces and a few graceful towers. Patches of greenery interlaced the stone here and there, almost shocking in this landscape. What looked like fountains caught the last of the light in a few places. And while the place looked like it had also been carved out of the local stone, it must have come from a different strata. Because it was a pale, honey gold that shimmered against the darker layers all around, as if laced with gold dust.
If ever anything had screamed palace, that was it.
“It’s not behind the highest wall,” Caleb said, in my ear. As if he’d come to the same conclusion.
“So . . . that’s good at least.”
“Depends.”
I turned to look at him. “On what?”
“On what’s on those upper three levels.”
They were dark, now that the local sun had set, set into the cliffs under an overhang of stone, with just a few stray lights gleaming here and there ominously. Like a heavy brow over glittering eyes. I felt myself start to tense up again, even without knowing why.
And then I got a reason when Caleb gave me a massive shove from behind.
I stumbled and then hit the ground, wrenching a wrist and skinning my hands in the process. But I didn’t mind. Because a moment later, somebody in a swift-moving chariot tore through the souk—including the area where I’d just been standing. If I’d stayed where I was, I’d have been crushed under its wheels like the worldly belongings of one unfortunate immigrant.
The driver never even appeared to notice. I watched from the ground as he turned onto one of the spokelike streets radiating out from the hub formed by the gate, his bright green silk robe flapping as he whipped his chariot back and forth on a crazy course that seemed intent on doing the most damage possible. Until it hit the front of a shop and crashed inside, the camel creatures bucking and rearing and making enough noise to cut through even the noise of the crowd.
The driver jumped off, laughing, and disappeared into a tavern across the street, along with a girl in a skimpy outfit.
Leaving the merchant with the camel-filled shop to sort things out for himself.
And me to get hauled off the ground by an irate war mage.
“Thanks,” I told him. “I didn’t see—” I stopped, because Caleb wasn’t looking real concerned over my skinned knees right now. Caleb was looking the way Pritkin had a few times back when we’d first met.
Right before he tried to kill me.
“What?” I said, looking around for another chariot. But the street was clear—at least of maniacal vehicles. People were washing back into the lane, including the immigrant’s family scurrying to collect what remained of their belongings. Things were returning to what passed for normal around here.
But Caleb didn’t look like he thought so.
“Notice anything?” he hissed.
“What are you—” I stopped because I had. I’d just noticed something. Not something added, but something missing.
Or somebody.
“Where,” Caleb asked me through clenched teeth, “is that damned vampire?”
Chapter Sixteen
I scanned the crowd, but there was no sign of a mouthy vampire in a dusty Obi-Wan robe screeching about being almost run down. Or a calm, serene one under the control of a being probably used to the crazy drivers around here. There was no one at all but the thinning stream of people through the gate and the life around the shops getting back to normal.
I didn’t understand. We’d been distracted for only a second. Where could she have gone so fast? And why would she just leave us in an alien city filled with guards who probably had our pictures taped to their dartboards?