City of Death (19 page)

As she descended into the drain, her hand reached out to grip the top rung. The very touch of the cold metal made her skin crawl, but she went on.

“These rungs were not made for badger legs,” Koko complained from just above her.

By the time Scirye was six rungs lower, it was pitch black. Only the number 3 glowed on her palm. Still, it was comforting in a small way, as if it were a sign that the goddess was keeping an eye on her even here. Finally she joined the others at the bottom, standing in the stinking stream up to her ankle.

Above her, she heard the fluttering of Kles's wings. “Kles,” she called up. “I'm right here.” She heard the flapping of wings as her griffin groped for her and found her arm. Fluttering his wings, he followed her arm until he could settle on her shoulder.

“Ugh,” Koko said as his paws splashed into the muck. “And I finally got clean.”

Leech, Kat, and Wali joined them in turn. Oko was the last to enter the shaft, and Scirye heard the rasping sound as the big Pippal drew the grate back over the hole.

“Are you having any trouble?” Kat called up to her softly.

“It's easy without the grit gluing it in place,” Oko grunted from above. There was a clanging sound. “There. It's back.”

Pärseri had them follow him in a single line. With each step, their feet and paws seemed to raise new stenches. Their route twisted and turned through the labyrinth of sewer tunnels, the only light coming from the mark on her hand. And the longer she spent in the dimness, the more Scirye's imagination pictured all sorts of horrid things still clinging to the walls.

They splashed through the noisome sewer so long that Scirye did not think they would ever leave the stink and the darkness, but eventually they came to a spot where moonlight fell through a grate.

The akhu jabbed a claw over his head. “Up here is the caravansary you seek. And now, if you would be so kind, leave Pärseri's things on a ledge to your right.” He pointed a claw at a ledge in a niche that was just visible.

When they had deposited the last of his supplies, Koko chuckled. “You might want to be choosier where you stash your stuff next time.”

The akhu scurried up on top of his pile of loot where they could see his whiskers twitch in the faint light falling from the grate. “No one will ever find Pärseri's supplies again,” he said, “especially lying, thieving, hungry badgers.”

Tucking her pistol in her clothes, Oko climbed up the rungs along one wall of the tunnel and lifted the grate from the opening. Then she went through it.

“It's clear,” she called down softly to them.

“Good-bye. Pärseri is devastated that we have to part,” Pärseri said, but despite his friendly words, he sat protectively on top of the pile of his belongings.

One by one, they went up the rungs until they were all standing in their stinking, soggy clothes on the stones of a plaza, some of which were marked with the double palms of the Urak. Next to them was a small circular fountain into which Poseidon poured water from a large jar in his arms. He stood with a foot balanced on each of the strangest sea creatures. From the waist up, they looked like elephants but from the waist down, they had the scaly tails of fish.

The fastidious badger headed to it right away and began washing his fur vigorously. “I should've brought a towel along.”

Scirye and the others soon joined him, trying to clean up but unfortunately with mixed results. The only real way to get rid of the stench would be burning their clothes and dipping themselves in a barrel of soap bubbles.

Koko jerked a paw at the sea creatures. “Are they the latest in shoes?”

“They're water creatures called makara,” Kles said. “And just hope you never meet one. They have tempers worse than a rhinoceros.”

As Scirye looked around, she saw that the plaza sat in the center of a two-story building of mud brick with narrow slit windows and numerous doors, including several large enough for an elephant to use. “Does this remind you of any place?” she asked the others.

Leech caught a whiff of spices that reminded him of the Sogdian caravansary where they had stayed in the Arctic. “The materials are different, but it's laid out like Roxanna's caravansary,” he said. Their friend's home had been part warehouse and part fortress, just like this one.

Suddenly a gong began to sound from a watchtower.

“Protect Lady Scirye,” Kat ordered.

Oko immediately seized Scirye and placed her behind her as Kat and Wali closed in to form a triangle about her.

“This is bad,” Tute said as gun barrels began sliding out of the slits, “very bad.”

 

33

Leech

Instinctively, Leech reached for the armbands—was it himself or the Voice guiding his hand? But his fingers closed on only cloth and skin. He felt helpless, then angry that they had been taken away.

Why did you give up the armbands?
the Voice wailed.
We can't fly out of this trap. You're just another snotty punk without them.

Deep down, Leech thought that was all too true, but as the Voice went on complaining, Leech ignored it as he hunted desperately for something he could use as a weapon. He was starting to learn how to focus on the task at hand and treat the Voice like background noise.

Even if we had them, I wouldn't leave my friends,
Leech said to the Voice as his eyes hunted desperately for a weapon.

You can't trust anyone,
the Voice insisted.

Don't you have any friends?
Leech asked.

I thought I did,
the Voice said sadly,
once, but they were quick to turn on me.

The Voice spoke no more and Leech found himself feeling sorry for it.

M
ā
ka started for the drain from which they had climbed. “Hurry. Back to the sewer.”

But a voice warned them softly, “Don't move.” From a door came a large, handsome man with pale brown skin. He looked to be about thirty with all of the hair shaved off except for a long blond topknot that hung all the way down his back. He was wearing a kilt and vest of brocade, and his yellow linen shirt had lace about the collar and cuffs. “Usually only akhu come out of that drain.”

“We're friends of Prince Tarkhun,” Scirye said quickly. “And we're here to see Princess Catisa.”

His thin, wispy voice didn't match the man's bulk. “And how would you know Prince Tarkhun?”

“We had the pleasure of saving His Highness's life,” Kles said. When they had been traveling the Arctic, they had rescued the prince from bandits. The griffin tactfully avoided mentioning that they'd almost gotten his daughter, Roxanna, killed while she had been guiding them during their search.

“Ah, so you're the heroes,” the man said. “Her Highness has been expecting you—though not quite in this manner.” He waved to the unseen guards. “It's all right. They're friends of the clan.”

Leech breathed a sigh of relief as the rifles slid out of sight, and then the man led them through a second doorway and up a staircase. The smells of spices was stronger here and the bright fiery colors of the walls and furnishings on the second floor reminded him even more of Roxanna's home.

The man ushered them into a large room where the walls were hidden by rich tapestries showing strange cities and creatures, and on the floor were carpets of rich hues, artistic designs and a weave so plush it was like walking on springs. Against one wall was a dais about eight inches high and the man told them to sit down on cushions laid out before it.

A little while later, a woman entered from a side door. She wore a short tan robe of a light but strong cloth and her thick yellow trousers were stuffed into her black boots. Robe, pants, and footgear were studded with designs made from small pale white stones. Despite the cost of her clothes, she was no hothouse flower, for her skin had been burned a rich nut brown by the sun. She held her head up with the same air of authority—like someone used to being obeyed instantly—that Roxanna had had.

“I am the Princess Catisa, the great-aunt of Prince Tarkhun. And this is my faithful servant, Nandi.” When she motioned toward the man, the bejeweled gold bracelets on her wrists jangled together. Leech had never seen so much jewelry in his life. Every one of her fingers was covered with rings and dozens of necklaces hung from her neck. Several pair of earrings hung from her ears and dozens more pendants dangled from her thick crop of gray hair. All of her jewelry held more white stones of different sizes. He wasn't sure how the woman could move with so much jewelry. “I welcome you in the name of the House of Urak.”

Fluttering into the air, Kles bowed deeply. “On behalf of my mistress, the Lady Scirye of the House of Rapaññe”—the griffin gestured to her—“I offer you a thousand and ten thousand greetings, O Mighty Princess.”

The elderly woman's lively, curious eyes reminded Leech of Roxanna. “And a thousand and ten thousand greetings to you, oh wise griffin. When I'd heard the vizier had you, I thought it would be a long time before I saw you.”

Kles gave a discrete little cough. “Yes, well, only a few know we've left the vizier's hospitality.”

“Yeah, our escape was a do-it-yourselfer,” Koko added.

“The vizier kidnapped our friend, Bayang, and made it look like she stole the axes,” Scirye explained.

“Ah,” Princess Catisa said shrewdly, “the vizier stole the axes himself and then kidnapped your friend so everyone would think she did it. That way he could discredit his political rivals.”

Including Scirye's father,
Leech thought. He liked Scirye's parents and the princess and hoped they were all right.

Scirye introduced her companions and then they took turns with Kles telling the princess about their adventures from the theft in the San Francisco museum to their escape from the citadel.

The Princess questioned them every now and then before finally concluding. “My great-nephew was right when he said you were both brave and clever.”

“With a little luck thrown in,” Leech added.

“That never hurts,” Princess Catisa agreed, “but my great-nephew said that Lady Scirye was the chosen of Nana.” Nana was the Sogdian name for Nanaia.

“I just hope I can keep my end of the bargain.” Scirye stared at the goddess's mark on her hand. “I remembered the pictures on the walls of the shrine in Roxanna's home. And I saw what happens when people don't keep their promises to Her.”

Princess Catisa clapped her hands together. “Ah, but if you must honor your word to the goddess, She must honor her word to you.”

“Then I wish She'd tell us what we have to do,” a frustrated Scirye complained.

“I'm sure She's already been helping you during your journey,” the princess said.

“Scirye told me that the goddess sent a dream that saved everyone from the hag in the Arctic,” M
ā
ka replied helpfully. When they had been chasing Roland in the northern wilderness, a hag had put them to sleep but Scirye had woken just in time.

Koko winced. “Don't mention that dame again. Just the thought of Her gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“And perhaps you're not aware of all the other ways She's aided you.” The princess shrugged.

“Lady Miunai said that maybe it's probably as hard for Her to communicate with us as it would be for us to communicate with ants,” Scirye recalled.

“It's probably even more difficult because we think we know everything.” Princess Catisa rapped a knuckle against the side of her head. “And we have such thick skulls that it must be hard for a message to get through to us.”

“You mean look for omens?” M
ā
ka asked, taking a professional interest.

“Those too,” Princess Catisa said, “but I meant favors She's actually done for you.”

“So maybe if I try to be more aware of my surroundings, I'll find clues about how She's helping us,” Scirye said hopefully.

“Yes, they might be right under your nose,” the princess said and then cautioned, “but we can't expect Her to do everything for us.”

“Or we'd become spoiled,” M
ā
ka agreed.

“Hey, there's nothing wrong with being spoiled if it's like Princess Maimie's palace,” Koko protested, but he shut up when Leech elbowed him savagely in the side.

“Our friend Bayang is being held captive at the vizier's summer villa so we're heading there to get her,” Scirye explained. “Every minute counts. Now that the vizier knows we've escaped, he'll go to his villa and kill Bayang so there won't be any witnesses. We'd appreciate it if you could provide directions to it and some supplies. And then we'll be on our way. We wouldn't want you to get into trouble on our account.”

The princess rested her chin upon her palm as she studied them. “My great-nephew sent me a telegram that spoke highly of all your characters, the dragon included. His judgment's good enough for me. If you say you must go, then we will help you.”

The man called Nandi cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Your Highness, wouldn't it be wiser to let the authorities save their friend?”

The princess sat up regally. “You forget, Nandi. The House of Urak always pays its debts. We don't let the authorities do it for us.”

Nandi dipped his head apologetically. “This Bayang must be quite a person to inspire such devotion. I hope to meet her one day.”

“I think you will, Nandi,” the princess said. “I've decided that you shall guide our guests to the vizier's summer villa and help them save their friend.”

“As you command, Your Highness.” After another bow, Nandi began pulling on his ponytail, and it was as if he were yanking on the threads of a sweater so that it unraveled. His clothes collapsed onto the carpet and the threads began to wind themselves into a large cloudy globe—like a giant ball of golden yarn.