PROLOGUE (112 page)

"Surely the folk here would aid us, if they all hate the Cursed Ones so much."

Maklos pointed at the people working in the fields. It took a moment for Alain to realize that humans and Cursed Ones worked side by side, recognizably different only because of their complexions and because the Cursed Ones were, in general, shorter than their comrades. Some of the humans even wore their hair up in that distinctive topknot.

"They are slaves," said Agalleos.

"They are dogs, licking the feet of our enemies," retorted Maklos. He spat to show his disgust.

"They seem harmonious enough to me. Look. Do you see them laughing, there? See how that woman—she's as human as you or I—stops to touch that man, as she might her own brother—

"He is no man." Maklos spat again.” He is a Cursed One. May he rot—"

"Hush," said Agalleos.” My friend," he said to Alain, "you are a foreigner and do not understand what you see. Slaves may smile and bow, hoping to be spared the whip. Magic may twist a person's «

mind until she sees colors that are not there. Now, come. We cai not bide here or we'll lose track of our party."

Maybe so. There was so much he did not understand. Here these lands even the houses were different, built of pale bricks ar roofed with wooden shingles. But as they journeyed on he sa other villages where humans and Cursed Ones worked and livt together. The only places where the Cursed Ones lived separate was at the small forts, spaced a day's march apart, where the hi; priest and his escort sheltered each night.

That third night as they bedded down in the pine woods with sight of earthworks, Agalleos could see that the matter still tro bled him.” You have not walked in those villages, friend Alai You have not walked in the ruins the Cursed Ones made of tl town where I lived as a boy. We follow the high priest and his e cort, yet can you say you have looked into his eyes, have you sei his expression? We are too far away to know any of those peop except by the color of their cloaks. That does not tell us what li inside their hearts."

They lit no fire that night because the terrain had forced the close in to the road, well within sight of the low embankment a the wooden watchtower. Maklos took the first watch. Much lat Agalleos woke Alain for the final watch and lay down next Maklos. Rage and Sorrow both slept; better to let them lie. Th had come a long way without complaint, good comrades that th were. None better.

Alain leaned against the trunk of a pine, taking in the ni§ sounds: an owl hooted, insects chirped, Maklos snorted softly his sleep and turned over. After a while he moved cautiously to I edge.

The woodland had been cut back about an arrow's shot on sides of the little fort, an astounding amount of work. Sentry fii burned on either side of the gate, illuminating the glitter of rect; gular shields set up along the embankment like a palisade. Th< was no moon, but the stars burned piercingly, so bright that fo moment he had an odd desire to weep with joy at their beauty.

A single figure passed the limit of the sentry fires and, lighti its way with a lamp, moved slowly into the clearing toward Alai hiding place. The man swung the lamp from side to side, sean ing low along the ground. Twice, he crouched and, knife glinti

in the lamplight, gathered plants best reaped on a moonless night. Alain dared not stir. Something about the figure seemed familiar to him, a haunting ache, a teasing memory, but he could not say what. Darkness shadowed the man's face, but as he came closer, Alain could see that he wore odd garb, not much more than a loincloth tied in a knot and draped loosely at the hips and, over his bare chest, a hip-length white cloak. Beaded sheaths covered his forearms and calves. Was that a feather stuck in his hair, bobbing in and out of sight as the lamplight caught its color?

The man crouched to investigate a spray of leaves among the ragged grass, lifting the lamp up at such an angle that all at once Alain saw his features boldly outlined.

It was the shadow prince, but not dressed as a prince in martial array and certainly not a shadow.

This man he had seen and exchanged words with in the ruins above Lavas Holding while an unseen shadow fort burned down around them. This man had led a column of refugees past Thiadbold's cohort of Lions after Alain had negotiated a hasty truce, if there could in truth be any true intercourse between shades and people.

Maybe he gasped.

Maybe knowledge, like a knife-edged flower, opened in his heart. If the shadow prince was alive, Alain certainly could not be in the afterlife, because shades could not dwell on the Other Side; otherwise they would not be trapped as shades on Earth.

"Who is there?" said the man, lifting his head. He doused the lamp, but he had a habit, not unlike that of Prince Sanglant, of tipping back his head as though he were sniffing the breeze, trying to catch a scent.

A sentry moved out from the fires, crossing the grassy clearing quickly.” Is there anything wrong, Seeker?"

The prince waited a few breaths, still listening. Alain was achingly aware of the creak of the trees, the_ sigh of the wind through lush summer leaves, the soft snort of Sorrow, a stone's throw behind him, as she dreamed.

"Just an animal."

"You shouldn't be wandering out here, Seeker," continued the soldier sternly, hands gripped tightly on his spear.” There are bandits still, you know what beasts the Pale Ones are. They'd rip you to pieces and then eat you raw. That's what happened to my cousin. I hope we kill them all."

"Even the folk in those villages we passed? Even the Rabbit Clan lady who sells incense in Western Market? Even the sailors on
White Flower,
whose captain is a half blood?"

The soldier gestured toward the sentry fires and the earthen walls, eager to return to their safety.” Wild dogs can be taught a few tricks, but they're never tamed. And they'll bite you when you try to feed them."

"Hu-ah," said the prince softly, "so swift a judgment and so harsh a cut." He touched thumb and forefinger to the wick on the lamp, and fire flared, so startling that Alain jerked back, thumping his head on the tree behind him.

"What was that?" The soldier raised his spear threateningly and took a step toward the forest's edge.

"A deer. Come, let's go back." The prince lifted a square of cloth overflowing with leaves and stems; tying diagonal corners gave him a means to carry his bounty.” I've got what I wanted."

Waking his companions at the first blush of dawn, Alain heard a horn call, low and trembling.

Maklos grabbed his weapons hastily.” They're off early today."

"No need to hurry," said Agalleos mildly as he stretched out the kinks that sleeping on the uneven ground had left in his body.” Aih! To be young again!" He grimaced.” I'll never be free of these knots in my neck! There's only one road, so we can't lose them. We'll reach the Spider's Fort by afternoon. I wager they'll stop there for the night."

"Why so?" demanded Maklos.” Aren't they in a hurry?"

"There's a crossroads there, lad. West and north runs the path into enemy lands, as far out as they've forced the border. To the southeast they can march by the Carrion Road and cross the Chalk Path by the Bright River. It's but a day's march from Bright River to the City of Islands. They can sacrifice a prisoner there as easily as they can in the City of Skulls."

"What is a Seeker?" asked Alain. When Agalleos looked at him strangely, he explained the encounter he'd had.

"Have you learned the language of the Cursed Ones as well?" asked Agalleos, surprised. Maklos had already started out and
yoo

now, half hidden in the trees, turned to wave them forward impatiently.

Alain gathered up his gear, staff, pack, and the shield left by Shevros, while he gathered his wits as well.” I told you before: I only know the language of the Deer people, and that of my own country."

They looked at each other, each seeing distress and bewilderment in the other man's face. Rage whined and nudged Alain, urging him to move on.

"Come," said Agalleos.” No doubt your spirit guides have given you some gift you weren't aware of."

No doubt. But his thoughts were so jumbled that three times that morning he tripped over roots and once slammed right into the trunk of a tree.

"Hsst!" Maklos sprinted back and shook him.” Keep alert! You could get us all killed."

It was like chasing down flustered geese. For some reason, his hand—the one that had been bitten—began to throb again, although it hadn't pained him since the day they'd crossed the Chalk Path. There went one goose which he had chased before: How could he understand Agalleos and Maklos? How could he understand the speech of the Cursed Ones?

And there, crossing its path, drawing his attention, another: The prince was no shadow. He was alive. He had been a shade in the world Alain had once known, a vision from times long past.

What did that make him now?

Spider's Fort had been built over the ruins of another town, thick stone walls raised on a low hill to make it a fortress. So many old ruined walls wandered out onto the grassy land around that the brooding watchtowers and massive walls did give it the look of a many-eyed spider nesting at the center of its web. There were many more soldiers here, and even a camp set up outside the walls on flat ground extending out to the southeast: circular pavilions of white cloth dyed a pale gold under the light of the setting sun. Soldiers were driving stakes into the ground at an angle along the east-facing slope, like a defense against cavalry.

"Do you think they have the Holy One here already?" Maklos grinned.” I can sneak in along the old stone walls and get a look inside."

"No, I must go," said Agalleos.” When I wasn't more than Maklos' age, I spent a season here as a soldier." He spat, as though ridding himself of a bad taste.” Even then, we were losing the war. The Cursed Ones spread their net wider every year. So far have they come."

"Nay, I must be the one to go." As the other two began to protest, Alain lifted a hand.” I can understand their language. Can you?"

"Truly," admitted Agalleos, "I can't understand their speech." Maklos crossed his arms and grimaced, hating to miss his chance for a daring raid.

"Even if I can't get close enough to see into the fort, I can at least hear the gossip of the sentries. What do you know of these old walls? Is there one route better than the others?"

"Along the northern slope you'll find the ground dug through with old trenches and fallen walls. You can move in close, this way." Agalleos drew in the dirt with a stick.” The fort's walls thrust out like a ship's prow at the narrow end of the hill." He scraped a deep line diagonal to the walls he had outlined.” Move up along this cleft. To your left you'll see an old terrace that used to be an herb garden. There was an old stair there that was hidden by the queen's magic before the soldiers had to abandon the fort. In the corner of the garden, where three walls come together, find the carving of a lion woman. This is the sign that will open the weaving and let you through." He showed Alain how to place his hands and press them over the mouth and eye of the carving.” Go up the stairs. There's a hidden place where you can see into the fort."

"So be it," said Alain.

He ate, and drank, and fussed over the hounds, waiting for nightfall. He took only his staff, a knife, and a water pouch, refusing the shield, spear, and sword offered to him by Maklos.” The staff is the only weapon I use," he said, "and a shield will only get in my way."

Agalleos slipped a small stoppered bottle out of his pouch, opening it.” We have little enough, but this is a good time. Open your left hand." He poured oil onto Alain's palm.” Now rub this

into your face from right to left, saying these words: 'Let the swift god Erekes place his hand upon my brow and make me invisible to all my enemies.'"

Alain hesitated. The oil smelled faintly of lilies but also of something tart and displeasing.

"This is men's magic," said Agalleos.” Go on."

Starting at his ear, he rubbed the oil into his face while murmuring the words. Oil tingled on his lips, but he felt no different.

Night brought the waxing crescent moon, already low in the west but bright enough together with the light of the stars that Alain could creep away from their hiding place out onto the open ground. The ground was mostly flat, but here and there pocked with depressions and rubble, easy enough to move through without too great a risk of being seen whether or not the magic worked. Fires burned on the walls above. He heard the noises of camp, men singing about ships and the sea, in odd contrast to the dust sliding under his feet, the hanks of dry grass his hands closed over at intervals, and thick patches of fennel rising up before him.