Lightnings Daughter (10 page)

"Not if you don't mind a long ride back to the treld."

He glanced over his shoulder to the dark line of storm clouds and rain that could still be seen behind them. "I don't think so. It's drier here."

"For now." Gabria studied her friend for a moment before she asked, "Piers, what is the city like?"

He grimaced, surprised by her question. "What, Pra Desh?" He gestured to Khan'di ahead of them.

"Ask him."

The old anger and grief were very clear in his voice. Gabria was startled by the intensity. "Do you know him from before?" she inquired.

"Yes, and he knows me." Piers glared at the man's straight back. "He is the son of one of the wealthiest merchant families in Pra Desh. He was a courtier and my good friend. He is also cunning, ambitious, and clever. He was supposed to be the Fon's taster, but on the night the Fon was poisoned, Khan'di fell conveniently ill. I was nursing him instead of dining with the Fon." Piers's fingers tightened around the saddle horn. "I could have saved the Fon if I had been there." He shook his head sadly. "I've always wondered if Khan'di deliberately feigned his illness."

"I'm sorry,” Gabria said, knowing how useless that sounded.

The healer shook himself and laughed. "Why? It is I who should be sorry. I came on this journey to face those people, to remember my daughter, and to banish my inner hatred. I am off to a poor start,”

He fell silent.

Gabria thought Piers had forgotten her question. She was about to repeat it when he drew out a small wineskin and took a long swallow. He slammed the stopper back in and looked up at Gabria. His pale gray eyes were twinkling.

"You asked about Pra Desh?" His hands flew out in a grand gesture. "The queen of the East. There is no other place like it in the world. It is huge, sprawling, magnificent! It is a city of incredible squalor and unbelievable wealth; of palaces, teeming wharves, markets, bazaars, and tenements."

Gabria stared at the healer, surprised by his sudden change of mood. She rarely saw Piers so animated.

“Pra Desh is the center for al trade and commerce in the East, you know," he noted. "Every road, caravan route, and shipping lane leads to Pra Desh. You can find anything available in the known world in that city. There are schools of great learning, libraries, academies of art, and theaters. The city is rich with artisans, philosophers, explorers, merchants, seamen, teachers, noblemen---and overflowing with slaves, peasants, and criminals." Piers laughed. "Gabria, you have never seen anything like it."

The girl tried to form a picture of this incredible place in her mind. "It sounds so . . . big,” she said lamely.

"You have nothing to compare to it, nothing that could help you fathom its size. The entire population of the eleven clans would be lost in the old part of the city."

Gabria's mouth went slack. It suddenly occurred to her that, not only was she riding into a hornet's nest, it was much bigger than she expected. How could she do anything useful in a city so big? "Wel , if they have al of those people, why do they need me?" she asked, exasperated.

"Ask him,” Piers replied, pointing at the nobleman again. "He's the one who made the demands."

"Khan’di!" Gabria shouted. The other men looked around in surprise, but the Pra Deshian pretended he had not heard.

Piers looked annoyed. "I'm sorry. In Pra Desh, women must always address a man by his full name.

To do less is to show a lack of respect."

Gabria gritted her teeth. "Khan'di Kadoa, may I please speak with you?"

At that, the nobleman half-turned and nodded once.

While Nara trotted forward to join the other rider, Gabria tried to put on a pleasant and sociable expression. She knew very little about this man, and what she did know she was not certain she liked.

He was of medium height with a stout figure turning to fat. A mustache hid his thin mouth, and his shrewd eyes were almost lost in the folds of his ruddy skin. He was often polite to the point of arrogance and had the confidence of a man who was used to being obeyed.

Gabria could not help but wonder what his true motives were for asking her to come to Pra Desh.

Was he setting an elaborate trap, vying for his own power and influence, or was he truly concerned for the welfare of his city? His hidden motives would not change her decision, but Gabria would be happier if she knew what to expect from him.

Since Gabria did not know how to salute the emissary and it was difficult to bow on horseback, she inclined her head politely to the man. Khan'di looked up at the sorceress on the huge black horse and returned her greeting.

She threw her hood back and let the wind tug at her hair. "I was talking to Piers a moment ago,"

she said. "He told me how big your city has become."

"It is the largest city in the Five Kingdoms, perhaps in the world," Khan'di answered proudly. "I've heard that Macar is bigger, but that was several years ago, before their tin mines began to decline. Since then their trade has fallen slightly. Pra Desh, of course, has widened its influence throughout the Sea of Tannis. Our merchant fleet is the largest and . . .”

Gabria sighed to herself as he talked on. It was the most she had heard him say in four days. She smiled and held up her hand. "Khan'di Kadoa, excuse me, but you are speaking beyond my experience. I know little about Pra Desh or its shipping."

"Oh, of course. Forgive me," he said. "Was there something in particular you wanted to know?"

"I was curious," Gabria continued. "Why, in a city so large, could you find no one to remove Branth?

Why did you ask me?"

"Because," Khan'di said, irony edging his words, "sorcery is forbidden in Pra Desh just as it is on the plains. We do not have the clans' intense hatred for the arcane, but it was more convenient and safer to outlaw it. To outlaw such practices keeps magic-wielding foreigners from coming into the city and disrupting the trade."

Gabria straightened and gazed at the man in surprise. "Foreigners? I thought your people could use sorcery, too."

"No. Only the clanspeople or those with clan blood in their ancestry have the power to cast spells.

Many wise men have studied this unusual inherited trait, but no one has discovered why only the clans have such power." He lifted his hand eloquently. "To put it bluntly, you were the only one available."

"Wonderful," Gabria muttered. “All right. If I am to go to Pra Desh as a sorceress, what guarantees do I have for a safe passage? Will I face Branth with my magic, only to be put in prison if I win?"

Khan'di reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a scroll sealed with the stamp of his family. He held it up. "The Fon rules the roads of Calah, but within Pra Desh,
I
am patron of the powerful merchants' guild and head of the most respected and influential family in the city. If you are successful in routing Branth, you wil be paid handsomely from my treasury and escorted with honor back to the borders of Calah. I give you my word as a Kadoa."

Gabria was skeptical. "What of your Fon? She will not be pleased to lose her personal sorcerer."

Khan'di laughed once, a sharp, bitter bark. "Leave her to me."

Gabria studied him for a long moment. It was still possible the Pra Deshian was leading her into a trap. If not for the warning of the King Stallion, she might not have accepted Khan'di's plea so readily.

Now, as she examined his fleshy face and watched the way his hands tightened around the reins in suppressed anger, she thought that he was probably telling the truth, at least as he saw it.

"That will have to do,” she finally answered. "Do not go back on your word." She plucked the scrol out of his fingers, nodded once again, and turned Nara away.

The man watched her go, his mouth pul ed tight. The woman was ignorant, but she was not stupid.

He would have to tread careful y with her. And her Hunnuli. Khan'di could not swear to it, but just before the big mare turned, he thought he saw an almost human glint of warning in her dark eyes.

CHAPTER FIVE

For five days the party followed the Goldrine River as it flowed northeast then east across the grasslands of Ramtharin, toward its junction with the Isin River.

Ignoring the cold winds and incessant rains, the riders traveled fast from dawn to dusk, stopping only at noon to eat and rest the horses. True to Nara's word, the foal had no trouble keeping up with the other horses and seemed to thrive on his mother's milk and the constant exercise. The people slowly settled into the routine of the trail, too, as their muscles adjusted to the long hours of riding and their minds grew accustomed to each other's constant company.

Gabria divided her time between Athlone, Piers, and Khan'di. Although she did not care for the nobleman from Pra Desh, he enjoyed talking to her and was a fountain of information and advice. While Piers told her about Pra Desh's history, culture, and society, Khan'di fil ed her in on the changes that had been taking place in the government, economy, and politics during the past few years.

"The kingdom of Calah is ruled by a king,” he explained one afternoon, "but the capital city, Pra Desh, is ruled by the Fon."

"The king allows that?" Gabria asked in surprise.

Khan'di chuckled. "He usual y doesn't have much choice. The Fon controls the vast flow of goods to and from the Five Kingdoms, so he or she holds more wealth and power than the king. It is not the easiest of situations. There has been constant feuding between the king and the Fon for generations."

"Where is your king now?"

The nobleman's brow lowered in anger. "About eleven years ago, the king of Calah died in a mysterious accident, leaving a son too young to rule. Fast on the heels of that disaster, the Fon was poisoned. His body wasn't even cold when his wife snatched control of the city and the kingdom. She stil holds them both---in the name of the young prince, of course."

"Why hasn't the prince reclaimed his throne?"

"No one knows where he is. The Fon held him prisoner for a few years, but we have not seen him recently. I'm afraid she may have disposed of him." The nobleman fell silent after that and rode with his expression frozen and his eyes as hard as rock.

The next day, during another talk, he told Gabria more about Branth's arrival in Pra Desh.

"The man was a fool," Khan'di said in disgust. "He ensconced himself in a big house in one of the wealthiest districts of the city and began flaunting himself in the highest social circles. He made no secret of his talent as a magic-wielder, but he was smart enough not to use his power openly. Then odd things began to happen. Gold was stolen out of locked safes, gem shipments disappeared, and ships sank in the harbor for no apparent reason. Men who angered Branth were financially ruined." Khan'di shook his head. "By the time someone tied the crimes to Branth it was too late. The Fon sent a detachment of her own guards to arrest him, but he'd had plenty of time to set up his defenses. His house was fortified and his power too great to overcome. He blasted the captain of the guard with a strange blue fire."

"The Trymian Force," Gabria said softly.

"The what?"

"It's a force drawn from the magic-wielder's own energy." She grimaced. "It can be very deadly."

Khan'di nodded. "It certainly was. Branth wiped out an entire company of heavily armed men with it."

"How did the Fon finally capture him?"

"The way she takes anything---through guile. She played on Branth's vanities and lured him to the palace with the promise of an alliance." The man broke off and surprised Gabria by glancing over his shoulder at Piers riding behind him. She thought for just a moment there was a flicker of regret in his dark eyes.

"I suppose the healer told you," Khan'di continued, "that the Fon is an expert at poison?"

"He mentioned it," she replied carefully.

"Well, she used a special poison of her own concoction to gain control of Branth's mind and render him helpless. He still has his talent, but she has the book and controls his actions."

Gabria looked pale. She despised Branth, but it was hard to imagine the powerful, ambitious chieftain trapped in the grip of an insidious poison. It gave her the shivers. "Can she make him do anything?"

"The man is a total prisoner."

"What will happen to him if we take him away from the Fon and her poisons? Will he regain his will?"

"I don't know or care. Just remove him or kill him." Khan’di twisted his mustache, a habit that showed when he was agitated. "We must get him away from the Fon before she invades Portane. If she attempts that, the entire Alardarian Alliance will shatter. Pra Desh will be ruined! I---"

Nara suddenly tossed her head, interrupting him.
Gabria, someone comes.
The mare whirled and faced a hill they had just passed. Eurus neighed a warning to the men, and the party drew in close to Nara and came to a halt.

At that moment, a lone horseman appeared on the crest of the hil and waved to them in apparent excitement. He was too far away to recognize, yet they all saw he was not a clansman. He was a Turic tribesman from the southern desert. Gabria glanced worriedly at Athlone, and the hearthguard gathered around their lord, their hands resting on their swords.

The horse came toward them at a full gallop, his ears pinned back and his tail flying. The man leaned back in his stirrups and greeted the party with a wild, high-pitched ululation. The afternoon sun glittered on the great curved sword by his side, and the burnoose he wore flew out behind him like a flag.

He reined his horse to a snorting, prancing stop directly in front of Nara and Gabria and swept off his hood. "Sorceress!" he cried. "I have been looking everywhere for you!"

Gabria was so surprised she could only stare down at the man. He was young and lean, with the dark skin and brown eyes common to Turic tribesman. His black hair was worn in an intricate knot behind his head. His face was clean-shaven, revealing the strong, narrow lines of his jaw and cheekbones. Gabria thought he was compel ingly handsome, and he met her confused stare with a bold, masculine look of pleasure.