Authors: Lynn Flewelling
“Break out a decuria and come with me. Billet the rest here,” Klia replied.
“You’ll be staying here, as well,” Thero told Mika.
“But Master, we’re almost there!” Mika exclaimed, disappointed.
“And I told you already that you can come in when I’ve found it to be safe. No sulking now. You must find us a tent and make sure our baggage is properly stowed. And explore the encampment for me. I’ll expect a full report.”
Mika brightened a little at being trusted with a responsibility. “I’ll make sure everything is taken care of, Master.”
“Very good.”
“I’ll make sure he has a tent close to Klia’s,” said the captain.
With that she saluted and rode off to make arrangements.
Klia waved Sedge to her side. “You’ll be our guide from here, Captain. Are you ready?”
The man gave her a brave salute. “I am, Highness.”
“A moment, if you will,” said Thero. “I think it’s best if we take some additional precautions.” He dismounted and pulled a leather tube from his saddlebag. Inside were an ink stone and a small brush. “If someone could lend me a waterskin, please, I’ll make quick work of this.”
One by one, each member of the party going into the city stood before Thero as he painted a quick succession of wards on the backs of their hands, over their hearts, and on their foreheads, which offered some protection from any dra’gorgos they might meet, and from demons.
Klia blew on the symbols on her hands to dry the ink. “We’re a strange-looking bunch now.”
“Learn and live. Right, Thero?” Alec said with a grin.
Seregil’s heart beat a bit faster as their smaller contingent continued on through the gates and into the echoing avenue that bisected the city. Here lay the heart of the mystery—and probably danger, as well. He caught Alec’s eye and Micum’s and the three shared a dark smile.
A few buildings were still standing here, but closer inspection found empty windows, broken walls, and missing roofs. Even so, evidence lingered of the gracious place it must have been a millennium ago in the lines of the buildings, and the crumbling façades crowned with triangular pediments and more bits of statuary.
Much of the rest was rubble, and from the barrows and shovels scattered about, workmen had been clearing away the broken stone before Toneus’s death had driven everyone from the city in fear.
They passed through a market square and Zella pointed out a large, four-sided structure that still stood at the center of it. This had clearly been restored, for the side facing them had a solid-looking door carved with symbols of Astellus, and the wall surrounding it was freshly painted with scenes
of naked youths and maidens riding leaping dolphins through stylized waves in front of a setting sun.
“That’s the oldest shrine to the Four we’ve found, apart from the oracle’s cave,” she explained. “There’s a door on each side, which let into a room with an altar and paintings on the wall. The building was largely intact, and showed signs of recent use. The paintings inside were quite recent, as if someone had been tending it. Toneus had the ones on the outside restored. It’s quite beautiful. It’s clearly dedicated to the Four, but some of the imagery is different.”
“I’ll examine it later,” said Klia. “Please, lead on.”
As they continued Seregil noticed that Thero was squinting a bit and rubbing his forehead. “You should have worn a hat.”
“It’s not that,” Thero replied. “There’s magic here. Strong magic of a sort I don’t recognize.”
Overhearing, Sedge glanced back. “A wizard or necromancer?”
“No, it’s more diffuse, like it’s coming out of the ground and air.”
“Some remnant of the Hierophants?” asked Alec.
“Or something native that drew them to build here in the first place,” Micum remarked. “Why would a people travel who knows how far from the east, get this close to the fertile mainland, and stop here instead?”
“Will you be able to continue, Thero?” Klia asked, concerned.
“Yes, it’s just giving me a bit of a headache. I’m sure I’ll adjust.”
As they went on toward the palace, the former glory of the place was still more evident in fanciful stonework, delicate fountains in paved squares, and a few whole statues still standing on plinths above the streets. One was an intricately coiled dragon with one outstretched wing; another was of a tall man in robes and a strange apron carved with what appeared to be stars and sigils. Instead of a crown, he wore a diadem with four long rays flanking a disk cradled by a crescent. His face was long and gaunt, and his beard flowed down his chest in heavy waves and curls. His right hand was
raised palm out, and he held a heavy-looking tome with his left. There was an inscription across the top of the plinth in a script only Seregil and Thero recognized.
“One of the Hierophants?” asked Micum.
“Yes, though we’re not sure which one,” Zella replied.
“Actually, the inscription, in Middle Konic, reads: ‘Sardomin the Sage, Builder of Wonders,’ ” Seregil told her. “From the inflection, I’d say this was built about fifteen hundred years ago.”
“You speak the language?” asked Zella.
“He speaks a lot of languages,” Micum said with a chuckle.
“As does Thero,” Seregil added. “What do you say? A contest to see who can decipher inscriptions first?”
“Perhaps another time,” the wizard replied.
Alec felt a vague sense of foreboding as they continued down the broad avenue that cut through the center of Menosi—a feeling that only increased when he caught a hint of motion from the corner of his eye. A dark figure ducked into an alleyway between the ruins of two buildings.
“I think there’s someone over there,” he murmured to Seregil.
Wheeling their horses, they rode to see who was sneaking around. The walls that formed the alley were intact, and it dead-ended against another wall. The shadows were deep but at the far end Alec could make out a young girl kneeling with a knitted shawl pulled close around her narrow shoulders. She was crying.
“What’s wrong, miss?” asked Alec. He dismounted and walked slowly down the alley so as not to alarm her.
She looked up at him, her face thin and dirty, and said something that he didn’t understand.
He took out his handkerchief and held it out to her. She hitched a sob as she took it and wiped her face, then disappeared before his eyes.
Alec stepped back in alarm, hair prickling on his arms and up his neck. The handkerchief lay on the ground where she’d been, pristine as when he’d put it in his pocket. He gingerly picked it up. It was dry. He looked around, wondering if anyone
else was hiding in the shadows, then hurried back to where Seregil was waiting at the mouth of the alley.
“How could anyone think this place isn’t haunted?” he said, showing Seregil the handkerchief.
“What did you see?”
Alec looked up at him in surprise. “Didn’t you see the girl?”
“No, but I did watch you give your handkerchief to something I couldn’t see. I’m starting to think you have a talent for attracting spirits.”
“Illior’s Light, I hope not!” Alec cast a last glance over his shoulder then swung up into the saddle and they rode back to where the others were waiting.
“What was that all about?” asked Klia.
“Alec saw a ghost,” Seregil replied before Alec could.
“That’s not uncommon, especially here in the city,” Zella told him. “Given the number of disappearances around here, I’d keep my distance.”
“So you really think ghosts are stealing people?”
Zella nodded. “Something is. My lords, I advise you to stay with the group and leave the ghosts to their business.”
“I didn’t know she was a ghost,” Alec told her.
“Those are the most dangerous kind,” Sedge told him. “We saw a lot of them, on guard duty at night, and sometimes even in daylight, like you just did. More than once they tried to lure my soldiers away from their posts.”
Goose bumps broke out on Alec’s arms again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
They went on and soon came in sight of the great palace, which stood on a rise at the far side of the bowl-shaped valley. Alec stole a glance at Sedge and found the man looking pale but resolute.
Sunlight glinted off newly glazed windows, and colorful pennants in the queen’s colors fluttered on the battlements. Unlike the palace in Rhíminee, it was built not to be a fortress, but rather with grace and beauty. Square, with two tall towers, it was made of the local light-colored limestone, with decorative scrolled details done with black basalt inlay work. Tall pointed arches framed the windows. The main entrance
was a set of immense double stone doors, each carved with a large ouroboros. The serpent that formed the circle had four horns and small wings. Within the circle of its body was carved an archaic ship.
“The seal of the Hierophant,” Thero murmured.
Four armed guards stood to attention on the steps at Klia’s approach. Even with their presence, the place felt deserted and, it seemed to Alec, eerily silent. “It looks a bit like the Orëska House.”
“That’s no accident,” Thero replied. “Tamír the Great sent her architects here for inspiration while building Rhíminee. I suspect a few wizards came along.”
Newly built villas and restored old ones ringed the palace precinct, ready for new occupants. The street and huge oval courtyard were freshly paved with granite cobbles, still immaculate, and edged with neat verges, showing the first pale green of spring and sprinkled with bluets.
“It’s lovely,” said Klia, reining in. “Hard to imagine anything grisly, here in the sunshine.”
“I’m afraid what I must show you will change your mind, Highness,” Zella replied as they reined in before the impressive entrance.
“How’s your headache, Thero?” asked Alec.
The wizard gave him a wan smile. “A bit worse, actually. I wish I had one of the good doctor’s draughts.”
“How many guards do you have here?” asked Klia.
“Four on each of the entrances, and more to patrol the precinct,” Zella explained.
“No one inside?”
“It seemed unnecessary, and dangerous, Highness.”
“So no one’s been inside since that day?” Seregil asked.
“Which means that anyone could have come in,” Alec added.
“I assure you, Baron, no one comes here,” Zella replied.
As they reached the guards it was clear that the soldiers were exhausted and under stress. A tall woman wearing a lieutenant’s steel gorget came down the steps and saluted Klia, then gave Sedge a quick look of surprise and relief.
Klia dismounted. “Lieutenant, I’m Princess Klia, your new governor and general.”
The woman bowed, fist to her heart again. “Lieutenant Nara, at your service, Highness.”
“Report.”
“We’ve lost two more guards in the past week, Highness.”
“There have been others?”
“Yes, Highness, the count is at fourteen now, all since the previous governor was killed. I don’t believe all of them were desertions.”
“What do you think, Lieutenant?”
Nara exchanged an uncomfortable glance with the guard next to her. “Whatever took Lieutenant Phania, Highness.”
“I appreciate your good efforts,” said Klia, “but there’s not some more rational explanation? Soldiers do desert—”
“With respect, Highness, not my people. I was talking to one of my men in a chamber near the royal apartments just two nights ago. I stepped out to call for someone else and when I looked back, Thorn was gone. Just gone.”
Alec exchanged an uneasy look with Seregil; had he just had a narrow escape?
“There’s been no one else about except for those who bring us supplies,” Nara was saying. “It’s getting hard to count on them, as they’ve lost a few people in the dark. And most of us have seen things, Highness, things we can’t explain any other way: women with no heads, children who call to you then disappear. I saw a man with no eyes near the royal chamber, where the lamps were lit. He looked just as real as you or me.”
“And you think they’re stealing your people?”
“I do, Highness.”
“Thank you for the warning. How long have you and your people been on duty here?”
“Since the previous governor was killed, Highness.”
Klia turned to Zella. “Weeks in this place? Was this by your order?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Zella replied uneasily. “I feared if they went back to town they’d spread rumors.”
“We’ll speak more of this later.” She motioned Sedge forward.
“As soon as you’ve shown us the royal chambers, I want you to get a full report from everyone who’s been on duty here.”
Sedge saluted and Alec thought he looked relieved to have something routine to look forward to.
“Anything else to report, Lieutenant?” asked Klia.
“Yes, Highness. Strange noises have been heard up around the oracle’s cave.”
“Such as?”
“Shouts, screams, moans.”
“And the weeping,” one of the soldiers added.
“Yes, the sound of a man weeping,” the lieutenant said.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll see about getting you some relief here. Speak to your people about keeping things to themselves for now.”
Klia led the way up the broad stairs to the massive double doors, and the guards pulled them open by the large brass ouroboros-shaped handles set in each one. Despite the make and size of the doors, they swung silently open with apparent ease.
Thero paused and pressed his palm to the right-hand door, forehead furrowed in concentration or pain.
“What do you feel?” asked Klia.
“Echoes of great magic,” the wizard whispered, almost reverently. “The stones are steeped in it.”
“But the Hierophants didn’t have magic, did they?” asked Alec.
“It’s believed that they didn’t until they mixed with the ’faie here, but there’s more than that. The ground itself seems to have power.”
“Perhaps that is why the first Hierophant settled here,” said Seregil.
Inside they found themselves in a huge, vaulted hall richly decorated with frescoes of forest and ocean scenes, many featuring dolphins. Soaring pillars painted in ornate designs of blue, silver, and red stood in ranks around the room. The domed ceiling was painted a dark blue and featured representations of the rising and setting suns and recognizable constellations. The floor was covered in a mosaic of a massive
red dragon in flight over a walled city; it was nearly identical to the floor of the atrium at the Orëska House, but larger in scale.