"Someone follows us." He did not point or turn his head, but his eyes flickered toward his far shoulder. "I think they are not Vaerana's men."
Ruha turned as though speaking to the minister and glanced down the avenue. It did not take long to discover their stalkers. There were at least five of them, pressed close to the buildings and scurrying along against the crowd. They wore plain cloaks that did a poor job of con- cealing the breastplates beneath, and they carried swords and axes on their belts. Though they were not wearing the black caps Ruha had seen in Pros, she felt sure they were cult members; their faces all had the dark, gluttonous look of pillagers and murderers.
"Have you seen more on the other side of the street?"
"Many more."
Ruha looked forward again. "Cypress has called out his militia."
"Then he discovers trick. Soon he comes for us."
Ruha filled her lungs, and then spoke the incantation of the same wind spell she had used to attract the Ginger
Lady's attention on the Dragonmere.
"Stand aside!" Ruha's horse reared at the thunder of her voice. She maintained a secure grip on the reins and spoke again, "Clear the road!"
The command blasted a dozen nearby people off their feet. Many more covered their ears and cast terrified glances skyward, confident that such a thunderous sound could only have come from the heavens. The largest part of the mob froze in their tracks and stared at each other with dumbstruck expressions.
"Stand aside, I say!"
A few people drifted toward the sides of the street, but most of crowd remained too stunned to move. Ruha glanced back and saw that the cult members were draw- ing their weapons.
"Make threat." Hsieh, who was holding his hands over his own ears, shouted the suggestion. "Fear moves what kind words cannot."
"Move, or I shall move you!" Ruha commanded. "You have to the count of three. One…"
By the time she reached two, even the people who had been knocked to the ground were scrambling out of the way. A brief clash of steel sounded behind her as the cult stalkers rushed to attack. The witch dug her heels into her mount's flanks. The trembling beast sprang forward, leaping four people who had not been quick enough to gather themselves up.
Ruha continued to yell. The mob split before her, creat- ing a narrow canyon down the center of Snake Road.
Trusting her mount to pick its own path, she glanced back and was relieved to see the tail of her horse slap- ping the nose of Hsieh's. The rest of the Shou were close behind, several holding blood-stained swords in their free hands. The witch turned her attention forward again, doing her best to search the crowd ahead for any sign of an attack.
Ruha rounded a gentle bend and saw more people pouring onto Snake Road from a large side street ahead.
In the intersection stood a small party of stern-faced
Maces, blocking the narrow pathway created by the witch's booming threats. Their weapons were drawn, and behind them stood a blue-robed man with the impatient scowl of a sorcerer who had better things to do than deal with dragon panics and columns of careless horsemen.
Beyond the roadblock, the avenue continued only two hundred paces before it passed out of Temple Hill's shadow and opened into a vast, sunlit market plaza.
Ruha slowed her mount, bringing the column to a stop before the glowering Maces. A grim-faced man with a ruddy complexion stepped forward and pointed his mace at the witch.
"See here, Stranger. Even in the best of times, we don't like-"
"Vaerana Hawklyn would be most appreciative if you will lead us to the Jailgates." Although Ruha whispered the words, the leader and his fellow Maces cringed at the strength of her voice. She urged her horse forward, lean- ing down to offer the man a hand up. "The Cult of the
Dragon is close behind, and it won't be long before the dragon himself comes for us."
The leader arched an eyebrow and lowered his weapon, but made no move to climb up behind Ruha. "What's going on?"
"We lack time to explain matter, but it is of great urgency for safety of Lady Yanseldara," said Hsieh. "Now, please to get on horse or stand aside."
The leader jammed his mace into his belt and reached for the witch's hand. "This had better not be some kind of trick."
As Ruha clasped the man's steel glove, the crowd
began to churn and close. Someone clamped a hand over the old sorcerer's mouth; then a dagger tip erupted from his chest. Hand axes and short swords appeared from under cloaks and cleaved three Elversian skulls before the Maces realized they were being assaulted. The sur- vivors turned to find themselves facing half-a-dozen attackers each.
"Ambush!"
The angry leader clamped his mailed fingers around
Ruha's wrist and jerked, nearly pulling her from her mount.
Suddenly, he cried out in anguish and threw himself against the flanks of the witch's horse. She glimpsed the butt of a crossbow bolt sticking through the armor between his shoulders, then felt hands tugging at her saddle straps.
"Get away from me!" she bellowed.
Her horse reared at her thunderous command, and the grasping hands fell away from her saddle. Hsieh came up beside her, at once trampling the Maces' fallen leader and burying his square-tipped sword in an axe-man's skull. Ruha urged her own mount forward, then led the column across the intersection, scattering ambushers and bystanders alike with the might of her booming voice.
They had barely crossed before a pair of gloom- shrouded figures appeared at the end of the street, block- ing the route into the sunlit market plaza. The man was tall and broad-shouldered. He wore steel plate as black as jet and carried not a sword, but a sliver of darkness shaped like a sword. It was impossible to say what the woman looked like; she was a mere silhouette, a night phantom obtruding on the light of day.
Ruha dropped her reins and raised one hand toward the sky. She pointed the other at the phantom-woman and shook the lane with the rumbling incantation of her sun spell. Five streaks of golden flame shot from her fin- gers and arced down the street, twining themselves together into a crackling cord as thick as a man's leg.
The spell took less than three heartbeats to streak the length of the street, and in that time Ruha's galloping horse had carried her halfway to the marketplace. The fiery rope arced down to strike the shadow-sorceress. The black-armored knight stepped in front of his mistress, raising the tip of his dark sword as though he meant to split the fire.
Instead of dividing down the center, the blazing cord entered the dark blade and drained from sight. A black flash shone through the window of a street-front tene- ment; then the entire building erupted into golden flame
The conflagration engulfed a dozen bystanders and seared many more. The crowd erupted into hysteria, some howling in anguish and others wailing in terror
Those near the buildings, fearing more such explosions, pushed toward the center of the street, while those nearer the charging horses pressed toward the buildings
The witch rode into a cloud of greasy smoke, and the hor rid stench of charred flesh filled her nose. She found her self struggling to keep her gorge down, sickened more by the knowledge that her magic had helped cause the awful smell than by the odor itself.