But it was painful to think of Zeren out in this night of fire and ruin, fighting thieves and rioting mercenaries in a dying city, and nowhere left to go. He might stay to the last, falling in the final defense of the city—and Sabis would fall, was doomed, the weapon that might have saved her lying half--finished in the house by the river, ruined by Fate's connivance and human stupidity and malice. Sulun coughed ashes and prayed that his friend would trust instinct, run while he could, escape one more time—to Esha, or the islands, or somewhere the endless hordes from the north couldn't reach—not to give up and die with the city.
"The river!" Omis gasped. "Smell the air."
Gods, yes: the wind had shifted, and the familiar stink came rolling, welcome for once, up the darkened street. Sulun hauled left, one more time.
Oh gods, there was a small street-brawl in the way—a crowd of bravos smashing into the wineshop. No way to get past it.
"Arrows," Omis grunted, picking up his bow.
Sulun lashed the mules into a dead run, hoping that speed and surprise would serve them one more time.
The outermost of the crowd turned their heads, noticing the noise, just as the first arrows flew. Screeches of pain and shock followed, drawing the attention of the rest of the looters. Half of them scattered as the mule-drawn wagon thundered down on them, but half didn't. Too many of the crowd were wine-soaked mean, hot on the chase of plunder, and armed. Maybe a dozen of them jumped out into the street, waving assorted bludgeons and a few hatchets.
"The mules!" Sulun shouted warning, laying about wildly with his whip.
The apprentices in the wagon fired off another volley of arrows—all of which hit, hardly room to miss—and maybe four of the bravos lurched aside, cursing or screaming but preoccupied with wounds.
In the next second, the mules ran full-tilt into the crowd, braying wildly. Omis dropped his bow into the driver's box and pulled up his axe, ducking low under Sulun's flailing whip. Two more of the crowd went down under the mules, but the rest converged on the beasts, grabbing at the bridles. The mules reared, squealing, hooves finding enough targets to keep hands away from their reins, but their forward momentum was gone. The crowd closed in.
Yanados, Arizun, and Doshi fired steadily and fast, arrows thinning down the mob, but now the club-swinging crowd was up to the wagon, pawing for purchase. Omis swung a ferocious half-arc with his axe, and the nearest of the looters went sprawling backward among his cronies, face redly smashed. The apprentices dropped their bows, pulled out hatchets, and began chopping at the oncoming fists. The mules brayed wildly as assorted hands finally caught their bridles. Eloti, quick as a cat, stabbed her little dagger squarely into the arm of a man trying to climb the wheel, and Vari finished him with a stout chop from a kitchen cleaver.
"Too many, too many," Sulun muttered to himself, slashing the whip across three howling faces at once. Maybe only a half a dozen attackers now, but enough; they'd be on the wagon soon. Better a press gang than this . . . "The Guard!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Hai, the City Guard!" Maybe that would confuse the mob for a moment long enough for him to whip those three away from the mules. "Hai, the Guard!"
Omis, not knowing what Sulun meant, thought there were actual Guards in sight. "Zeren!" he shouted, hoping to let the Guards know who their friends were. "Hai, Captain Zeren! Here!"
Further off, somebody swore. A door banged open.
The crowd wasn't confused, and the lead three held on to the mules. One of them pulled out a knife and tried to duck toward the wagon, hoping to hamstring one of the animals. Sulun flailed at him with the whip, but only succeeded in slowing the man down. Omis spotted the attacker and leaned out over the driver's box, hoping to swing the axe at him. Behind them, Doshi yelped and toppled as a well-aimed barrel stave caught him on the leg. The stave carrier started up over the tailgate, then ducked as Yanados flew at him, hatchet raised.
Sulun didn't see the first man go down, only saw the off mule rear up, its head suddenly freed. The second man half-turned, just in time to catch a long blade across the throat. He coughed and dropped, and Sulun got a clear look at the sword and the man holding it.
"Zeren!" he shouted, just as Omis swung at the bravo crouched by the mules' flanks. "Did I conjure you up?"
Omis's axe thudded meatily into the third man's shoulder, dropping him to the stones.
"Yes, I suppose you did," said Zeren, quite calmly, as he trotted toward the continuing struggle at the wagon bed. With equal calm he raised his shield and ran his sword into the side of the looter climbing the nearside rear wheel.
The two louts near the tailgate, seeing the odds change so drastically, jumped away from the wagon and ran into the dark street. What was left of the crowd scattered in the other direction, or dived into hiding in the wrecked wineshop. Sulun dropped the whip and wrestled with the reins, pulling to keep the wide-eyed beasts from plunging on down the street. Zeren wiped his sword on his thigh, sheathed it, turned back, and took the reins of the nearer mule.
"Inside," he said, dragging the unwilling animal toward the open doorway of the workshop. "Hurry, or they'll come back."
Omis hopped down from the seat, ran to take the other mule's bridle, and helped pull the animal toward the gate and through it.
"Zeren?" gulped Yanados, looking over her shoulder. "Where did he come from?"
"Ask later," snapped Arizun, hopping down from the wagon. "Close the doors first." He pulled the heavy panels closed and shoved the bolt home, then ran after the others into the courtyard.
"Not too bad," Vari clucked, examining Doshi's leg. "Bruise: no break. Soak it in hot water . . . ah, will we have time for that?"
"Not now," said Eloti. "On the boat."
"Boat?" Sulun puzzled. "Oh. Yes, the boat. Do we have everything packed? Put it on the boat, by all means!"
The others, much to Sulun's surprise, did exactly that. In a moment he was alone with Eloti and the mules.
The beasts stood panting, heads down and ears sagging, ribs heaving like bellows and steam rising from their sweat-darkened hides. They looked as if they couldn't move another cubit, and Sulun didn't blame them.
"What will become of these poor beasts?" he wondered aloud.
"Why, we're taking them with us, of course," Eloti snapped, getting down from the wagon. "On the boat you'll find good straw, some tethering ropes and halters, a few days' feed, and some nosebags. I recommend that we get the mules and wagon on board as soon as they're fit to move again."
"The wagon, too?" Sulun tried to imagine sailing this whole menagerie down the river.
"There is no other way to take everything."
"Very well. It's worth the bother." Eloti went to the mules' heads, took their reins, and patted their foamy muzzles. "We'll need it once we leave the river. The north is said to be rough country, and I can't imagine the Ancar keeping the roads in good repair."
"North . . . No hope for reaching the port and the Yanira, then?"
"None whatever."
Sulun nodded weary acceptance. "How do we get the mules on the boat?" he asked.
When the last of the gear had been stowed aboard, the apprentices set the planks in a short bridge from the bank to the boat deck. Omis and Eloti took the weary mules by their bridles and led them onto the creaking platform. The beasts were nervous of their footing and moved cautiously, but between Eloti's cooed urgings and Sulun's encouragement from behind with the whip, the team and wagon crawled onto the waiting boat. The moment the rear wheels rolled off the planks, the apprentices made haste to pull the boards up again. Vari hustled to the lines to untie them, but Yanados bade her wait until the mules were safely unhitched and tied in place.