“If you two are done complimenting one another, perhaps we can go find some entertainment in this town,” Sorak suddenly said, and though it was his voice, its pitch had changed completely, and his entire manner had suddenly undergone a dramatic transformation. He stood with one hand on his hip, his head cocked slightly to one side, a look of bored impatience on his face.
“Kivara,” said Ryana.
Korahna merely stared at him, stunned at the sudden change. Her communion with Ryana gave her both a knowledge and an understanding of who Kivara was, but actually seeing her manifested still took her aback.
“This is not the time, Kivara,” said Ryana.
“I have grown weary of waiting for the proper time,” she replied, rolling her eyes and tossing her head in an irate manner. “I have not been out since we left Tyr. There was nothing of interest on the journey, but now that we have reached a city at long last, I deserve some time.”
“We have not come here to enjoy ourselves, Kivara,” said Ryana. “We must deliver Korahna safely to the Veiled Alliance and then find out what it is we have to do here.”
“So? I am not preventing you,” Kivara said. “But why does that mean we cannot enjoy some entertainment in the process?”
“We are preservers in a defiler city, Kivara,” said Ryana patiently, though her exasperation was beginning to show.
“And we have brought back the exiled princess. We are at some risk here.”
“Good,” Kivara said. “Then that may add a little spice to what has been a dreadfully dreary journey up ’til now.”
“Guardian ...” Ryana said.
“No!” said Kivara, stamping her foot angrily. Several people turned to stare at this rather curious behavior. “I have not been out in weeks! I am not going back under!”
“Kivara,” said the Guardian, though Korahna and Ryana could not hear her, “you are misbehaving. This is not what we agreed.”
“I agreed to cooperate; I did not agree to stay under all the time. I have as much right to come out as any of you!”
“Kivara, this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. We shall talk about this later.”
“No! It is not fair! I never have any fun!”
“Kivara...”
“No, I said!”
Korahna watched, fascinated, as the apparently one-sided conversation took place before her. Sorak’s—or Kivara’s—features twisted into a grimace as she struggled against the will of the Guardian.
“No ... no ... no!”
The patrons in the tavern were all staring now. Sorak’s body trembled, and his head shook as his mouth twitched, and his hands, clenched into fists, pounded at his thighs. And then his body slumped slightly and relaxed, and a moment later, he straightened and was Sorak once again. The patrons in the tavern were mumbling among themselves.
“We had better leave at once,” said Sorak, quickly leading the way out of the tavern. The people stared after them as they went out into the street. Night had fallen, and the two women hurried to keep pace with Sorak’s long strides as he rushed away from the tavern. He stopped some distance away at the corner of a building, and leaned against it wearily.
“Sorak . . .” Ryana said with an expression of concern. “Are you all right?”
He merely nodded. “Forgive me,” he said.
“It was not your fault,” Ryana said. Korahna stood beside her, watching him and biting her lower lip. She did not know what to think.
Sorak took a deep breath and expelled it heavily. “She has not done anything like that in a long time. The Guardian never had trouble controlling her before. She seems to be growing stronger.”
“Can nothing be done?” Korahna asked.
Sorak simply shook his head. “Kivara is a part of who we are,” he said. “When I was a boy, with the help of the high mistress of the villichi temple, I was able to effect an agreement between the individuals of the tribe to cooperate with one another for the sake of all. The Guardian has always been the wisest of us, and she has always managed to keep the tribe in balance. Something like this has not happened for a long, long time.”
“Will you be able to keep things under control?” Ryana asked anxiously.
“I think so,” Sorak replied. “I am merely tired. It has been a long, hard journey, and my weariness allowed Kivara to slip through. I will be more on guard from now on.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “All right. Princess,” he said. “Lead on.”
Korahna led them through the dark and winding streets of Nibenay, away from the market district an toward the center of the city. As they drew closer to the palace compound in the inner city, the buildings became larger and more opulent. Almost every house they passed now had large, stone-columned entryways, intricately carved with figures. By now the servants had set torches into the outside sconces so that some light illuminated the streets. There were almost no people in the streets here, and those they passed hastened to the opposite side to avoid them.
“We must look a sight,” Ryana said as she noticed several people scurrying out of their way.
“The people are afraid of strangers in this part of the city,” Korahna explained. “The wealthier people live nearest to the palace, save for the powerful nobles who have estates just beyond the city walls. From time to time, desperate individuals come here in an attempt to rob a home or waylay some passing citizen. We must be on the watch for the half-giant patrols. They shall surely challenge us.”
“And if they do?” Ryana asked.
“Let us just say it is best they don’t,” Korahna replied. “Come, hurry. This way.”
They ran across the street and ducked down an alleyway. Moving quickly from alley to alley, hugging the building walls, they soon came to the sprawling palace compound. Rising up above all the other buildings was the palace itself, a huge edifice built entirely of intricately carved stone, and jutting from it, in the center, was a gigantic head.
Sorak and Ryana stopped to gaze in wonder at it. The side wings of the palace looked like shoulders, and the central upper stones like a neck. Sunken eyes with flames burning within them gazed out over the city. The huge brow was furrowed, and the jutting chin was proudly set.
The head was shaven, and the expression of the gigantic face was at the same time impassive and malevolent.
“By all that’s holy, who is that?” Ryana asked in a low voice.
“My father,” said Korahna.
“That is the Shadow King?” said Sorak.
Korahna nodded. “It took the city’s finest stone-masons decades to carve out his countenance from huge blocks of mortared stone. For most of them, it was their life’s work. They labored every day, from dawn to dusk, and then they were relieved at night by other stonemasons who continued the work by torch-light. It is said that many of them died in the task. Some fell from the scaffolding; others expired from sheer exhaustion. And while the stonemasons worked on the outside, teams of other artisans worked within, constructing the inner chambers from marble, alabaster, cinnabar, obsidian, and precious stones. And when they were finished, all were put to death.”
“Why?” said Ryana.
“So that none could ever speak of what lay within my father’s private chambers,” said Korahna. “At the completion of the work, Nibenay moved in, and no one has seen him since that day.”
“No one at all?” said Sorak.
“Only the senior templars who attend him,” said Korahna. She pointed toward the upper part of the face. “Each night, until dawn, the lights burn within those eyes, as if Nibenay were watching over the city that bears his name. There are some who say that he can see all transgressions and sends templars and half-giants to administer his law.”