“What then?” Tithian asked.
“By the time you reach it, we will know for certain whether Rajaat lies beyond,” he said. “If so, one of us will take you to the other side.”
Tithian shook his head. “If I slither down a major street with the Lens in my tail, I’m going to attract a lot of attention.”
The king illustrated the problem by sending a series of squirms down his serpentine body.
“So disguise yourself,” snapped Sacha.
“As what?” Tithian countered. “Anything large enough to carry the Lens will draw attention. I can probably destroy whatever they send at me, but it’ll take time we don’t have.”
“Don’t worry about a disguise,” said Khidar. “I’ll make certain the Draxans are too busy to concern themselves with you. Besides, until you destroy Rajaat’s prison completely, my people can emerge from the Black only partially. With us wandering through the city, you’ll be only one of many strange things loose in the streets.”
The halfling led the way toward the burning trees at the edge of the park.
Crossing the plain took longer than Sadira had expected. She and Rikus ran until her breath came in painful gulps, filling her lungs with fire and racking her ribs with agony. They slowed their pace, continuing until fatigue so numbed the sorceress’s legs that she could hardly stumble along.
“We’d better walk for a while,” she said, breathing hard. “If I turn an ankle, we won’t catch Tithian at all.”
The mul slowed his pace and came to her side. “I don’t suppose you’ve any magic left?”
Sadira shook her head. “I’ve already used the enchantments that could help us.”
During the day, when she was imbued with the sun’s power, Sadira could shape her magic with little more than a thought. But at night, she was like any other sorceress. She could use only spells whose mystic runes she had impressed on her mind through hours of rigorous study. Unfortunately, speaking an enchantment’s incantation erased its runes from the mind, so the caster could not use the spell a second time until she studied it again.
“There’s no use worrying,” said Rikus. “Before he can free Rajaat, Tithian’ll have to find him-and with the sorcerer-kings after him, that could take some time.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Sadira glanced at the sky ahead. The black spout still rose from the top of the cliff, and she could see by the lengthening gap in the red clouds that it had begun to move. The sorceress returned her gaze to the ground, picking her way across the jagged stones as quickly as she could.
After a few steps, Sadira said, “There’s something I need to say, Rikus.”
The mul raised an eyebrow but kept his attention fixed on the broken ground. “What is it?”
“I owe you an apology,” Sadira said. “When I found out Agis was gone, I felt guilty for letting him die without the heir he wanted. I’ve been using you as a scapegoat for those feelings, telling myself that the only reason I didn’t carry his baby was because it would make you jealous.”
Rikus continued forward. “Was that the reason?”
Sadira hesitated before answering. She had made her apology, as she had promised Neeva, and did not know if it was necessary to discuss her feelings any further.
“Then I’m the one who owes you an apology,” said Rikus. “If I stopped you from giving Agis something so important-”
“That wasn’t why I refused,” Sadira interrupted. “I didn’t want a baby because I was afraid.”
“Afraid?” the mul scoffed. “How can the woman who braved the Pristine Tower, who faced down the Dragon, be frightened of something as common as childbirth?”
“Common or not, childbirth’s no little thing,” Sadira scolded. “But you’re right. The pain isn’t what worried me-it was the trust. By having a child, I’d be giving myself to Agis forever and trusting him to do the same.”
“And that would have meant leaving me.”
“That’s what I told myself,” she said. “But the truth is, after Faenaeyon abandoned my mother, I’ve never really trusted love.”
“Agis was no elf. He’d never have left you or his child.”
“I’m not saying he would have. He was much too loyal,” Sadira said. “But people change, and so do their feelings. The love might have vanished, then we would’ve been stuck with each other.”
“And it might not have. You can’t predict what happens in life, but that’s no reason to retreat from it.” The mul paused for a moment, then came closer and took her arm. “But children aren’t a concern for us. Even if you wanted one, I couldn’t give you a baby. Let’s just go on like before.”
Sadira shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said. “For me-or for you.”
Rikus frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t until after Agis died that I realized I needed him.”
“And you don’t need me?” Rikus asked, looking hurt. Sadira smiled weakly. “That’s not what I mean,” she said. “But there are others who need you. And you need them, too.”
“If you’re talking about Neeva-”
“Not just about Neeva,” Sadira said.
“This is useless,” Rikus said. He released her arm. “If you think we can decide for Neeva-”
“I’m not deciding for Neeva,” Sadira interrupted. “But I know what she-and Rkard-will need.”
Rikus looked away, uncomfortable. “What they need is for us to catch Tithian and get back to them,” he said, starting to trot. “If you’re up to running again, we’d better move on.”
Sadira fell in behind the mul. By concentrating on where his feet landed, she found it easier to secure her own footing, and they crossed the plain at a steady pace. As they approached the cliff, it became clear that the precipice was not natural but a wall constructed of granite blocks as large as houses, with seams so tight a dagger blade could not have slipped between the stones. Crackling forks of lightning shot down from the ash storm overhead to lick at the rampart’s loftiest heights, and the summit itself was lost in the boiling red clouds.
“I can’t believe Tithian would fly over this wall,” Sadira said. “Lens or no Lens, if one of those bolts hit him, he’d be scorched to cinders.”
“I don’t think he went over.”
The mul pointed down the way, where the black circle of a tunnel opened into the bottom of the wall. They veered toward the entrance. They soon saw that it was perfectly round, with smooth edges and a glasslike finish. It had been driven through the heart of a granite block and was so long that the light at the other end was only about as large as a thumb. Sadira followed Rikus into the passage.
When they emerged on the other side, the sorceress saw that they had entered the corner of what had once been a forested preserve, though it no longer bore much semblance to a park. A fiery blast had ripped through the area, toppling the trees and leaving them limbless and smoking. Scattered among their blackened boles were hundreds of charred skeletons, along with the cracked obsidian points of incinerated spears.
“Whoever they were, they weren’t much of a challenge for Tithian and the Lens,” Rikus observed.
“It doesn’t look like they even slowed him down.” Sadira pointed into the distance, where the energy spout from the Dark Lens continued to rip through the storm overhead. The black pillar seemed only slightly less distant than it had when they started across the plain. “We’d better hurry.”
They picked their way across the devastated park, emerging on a processional boulevard that ran straight toward the heart of the city. To the sorceress, it appeared incredibly long, passing through an endless series of arches and vaults that had no apparent purpose except ostentatious decoration. Hundreds and hundreds of monuments to stern-faced warriors and shrewd-looking bureaucrats lined the great avenue. Given the softness of the light descending from the golden moons, the edifices cast surprisingly harsh shadows across the street. Behind the statues rose the high towers and looming emporiums of a great and ancient city, though its sharp and blocky architecture seemed designed to belittle rather than impress its observers.