The City of Ravens (35 page)

“I recognize the two Knights of the Hawk,” Illyth whispered. They’re the ones who arrested you at the Blue Lord’s theatre. And I saw the Red Wizard at your trial, but who are the other two, and what are they all doing here? Are they friend or foe?”

Jack realized that he honestly could not answer the question. Not only did he not know, he didn’t even have a good guess. Marcus and Ashwillow would arrest him on sight. Zandria’s reaction might be anything. And with Anders and Tharzon, it all depended on how much they resented his shadow-twin’s humiliating assaults. But… even if all five wanted him dead on the spot, they had no quarrel with Illyth and might be counted upon to get the noblewoman out of the Underdark and back where she belonged.

“We will present ourselves and hope for the best,” he told Illyth.

Before she could ask another question, Jack stepped out from behind the rock and dropped his spell of invisibility. “Good day, gentle persons,” he called. “I must confess I am glad to see you all!”

All five whirled to face him, weapons ready. It was clear that they’d seen no little fighting recently, and their reactions were almost comical. Jack was careful not to smile. He gestured toward Illyth and then approached the light. Anders seemed relieved to see him, but Tharzon scowled darkly. The dwarf was clean-shaven, the first time Jack had ever seen him thus. Marcus and Ashwillow

advanced on him, weapons drawn; Jack decided to blunt their attack before it began.

“If you are looking for the Warlord Myrkyssa Jelan, she is not here. We had a falling out, and she proceeded without us. But I can show you where she went, and I am afraid she is up to no small mischief

Marcus wasted no time. “Where is she?” he demanded.

Jack pointed toward the dim green haze, far off in the darkness. “A short march from here you’ll find a subterranean sea, and the Warlord somewhere out on or under its dark waters.” He looked over the two knights again, noting the furrows gouged in their steel cuirasses and the various bruises and cuts covering their features. “Last I saw, you led a detachment of Ravenaar soldiers. Where are your men?”

“Dead or dying,” Marcus growled. “Your mistress led us into an infernal ambush. You’ve much to answer for, street rat.” He advanced again, blade weaving.

“Hold, Marcus,” called Zandria. “Many people wish Jack dead, but that does not mean you are free to kill him.” The wizardess stepped forward, intervening. “We have more important things to do.”

“Indeed,” Jack said. He turned to Anders and Tharzon. “Good friends, what brings you here, and in this company?”

Tharzon growled something unintelligible. Anders shrugged. “I’d thought I might break into I’ll-Water and extricate you from your predicament, mostly because I believe you still owe me quite a large sum of money. And Tharzon agreed to help, so that he could kill you with his own hands instead of allowing the city to deprive him of his rightful vengeance. While it’s true that Tharzon and I still hadn’t resolved the question of what to do with you when we got you out, we both agreed that the first step

was to remove you from I’ll-Water. We rowed out in a black-painted dory and were about to commence our rescue when the Storm Gull appeared, and the Lady Mayor ordered your release. So we followed, hoping that we’d find it easier to free you from a small party surrounding the Lady Mayor. Then she led us straight into the darkest depths of Sarbreen.*

“You truly intended to free me? After the misery my shadow wrought on both of you?” Jack found his heart swelling with pride. “What wretched thieves! Any cutthroat worth his salt would have let me swing!”

“Your untimely death would have left too many mysteries unresolved,” Anders finished.

“If it turns out you weren’t responsible for the incident on Manycoins Way,” Tharzon added in a low rumble, “Anders convinced me that it might be possible that you can tell me who was responsible. I live to settle that account, Jack.”

Jack turned to Zandria. “So I can explain to my satisfaction the presence of Marcus, Ashwillow, Anders, and Tharzon,” he said amicably, “but I don’t understand how you come to be here, dear Zandria.”

“Three reasons,” she said brusquely, “the ring, the dagger, and the death of Brunn at the hands of your simulacrum. Tempting as it is to blame you for the last, I know better. Whoever made that shadow of you bears responsibility for its actions. Like your fellow cutthroats, I intended to remove you from I’ll-Water so that I could recover my property and discover the identity of your enemy. I followed the Lady Mayor as well, until I encountered these two ruffians and accosted them. We compared notes and resolved to join forces for the moment. Later, in the chamber of the stone dragon, we encountered the Hawk Knights here and struck a deal with them as well.” She crossed her arms, eyes blazing.

“And, you rescued me from the burning tavern when you might easily have left me to die. Consider the debt repaid.”

Illyth spoke up from her place by Jack’s side, revealing herself. “So, what do we do now?”

Five hostile stares turned on her. “We have what we came for,” Anders remarked. “We’ve found Jack. The sooner out of this place, the better.”

“Unlikely, barbarian!” Marcus snapped. “I am taking Ravenwild into custody. He is staying right where I can see him, and I am not going back to the surface until I’ve caught the Warlord as well.”

“I believe that we all have more important business here than bringing me to trial,” Jack said. “You said it yourself, Marcus—the Warlord is down here, too, and she is much more noteworthy a felon than I.”

Marcus scowled. “What of it? The accusations against you demand our attention.” He advanced on Jack, sword ready. “Ash, watch the ruffians. We’ll sort this out when we have him in custody.”

“No one is taking anyone into custody!” Zandria raised her hand and created a flash of light to seize attention. “While we stand here arguing, the Warlord comes closer to reaching her goal.”

“Stand down, Sir Marcus,” Illyth said. “The Red Wizard speaks the truth. Regardless of Jack’s guilt or innocence, the Warlord’s plans proceed. You should concern yourself with matters of justice after we have addressed matters of the city’s survival.”

The two Hawk Knights exchanged dark looks but did not refute Dlyth’s point. “Agreed,” said Ashwillow, speaking for both. “Stopping the Warlord’s designs takes precedence, but I cannot make any promises about what happens when we return to the city.”

Jack bowed. “Then may I suggest that we resume our

quest? If you’ll follow Illyth and me, well show you which way the Warlord went.”

Moving swiftly, they set off across the cavern floor, nervously scanning the darkness around them. They walked a couple of hundred yards and came to the cold lakeshore, where three dead lightning-blasted ropers marked the scene of Jelan’s battle against the monsters.

The green spiral of energy out over the water was even stronger, more distinct, than before, a twisting emerald strand weaving slowly back and forth. Jack could hardly take his eyes from it; the others were awestruck as well.

“I think the wild mythal lies beneath that,” Illyth said quietly. “That’s where Jelan and her henchmen went.”

“So how do we reach it?” said Tharzon. “That must be five hundred yards, at least, and this water will be icy cold.”

“Swim or sail,” Anders replied. “Flying would work too, I suppose. Given those options, perhaps we should look around for anything that might serve as a raft.”

“You omitted an option,” Zandria said.

The mage stepped into the water and waded out until it was knee deep, reaching down to stir her staff in the blackness. She muttered a few words and gestured, working a spell. Instantly the water in a large circle around her changed in texture, color, filling with streams of bubbles.

“We can walk. I have cast a spell to render the water in this circle breathable. If you stay close to me and remain within its bounds, you will be able to breathe with no trouble at all.”

Tharzon balked. “I’ll pass, thanks. My father didn’t raise me to walk on the bottoms of lakes.”

“It is perfectly safe,” Zandria said.

“Then I will not concern myself on your behalf,” Tharzon replied. “You can go ahead without me, but I am not walking into that lake.”

Marcus sighed and sheathed his sword. He waded into the water beside Zandria and motioned to Ashwillow and Anders.

“Come on,” he said. “If we stand here trying to argue a dwarf into doing something he doesn’t want to do, we’ll be here all day. The Warlord is still ahead of us.”

The Hawk Knight and the Northman shrugged and waded in as well. Jack joined them a moment later, Illyth following behind them. Tharzon remained on the shore. Jack turned back and waved at him.

“Better to stick together,” he said. “Who knows what might be lurking out there in the cavern?”

“Who knows what might be lurking in that lake?” Tharzon grumbled, but the dwarf winced and walked into the cold waters, axe held high over his head.

Jack nodded and turned toward the lake. Zandria waded deeper, the circle of changed water following her. The water was bitterly cold, and he still felt as if he stood waist deep in any normal lake, but he had confidence in Zandria’s magic. He followed her, and when the water rose to his neck, he ducked under and tried a very cautious breath. The changed water felt strange and cold in his mouth and throat, dense and humid, but it was indeed breathable.

“Not pleasant, but tolerable,” he said aloud, and he was surprised to hear his voice echoing in his ears as if he’d spoken more or less normally.

With one last look at the cold stone-strewn shore, Jack turned back into the lake and allowed the waters to close over his head entirely.

They marched across the bottom of the lake floor for a strange, indeterminate time, chilled and wet despite the

airy water that encased them. The lake was virtually lifeless, the ground beneath their feet smooth and weedless gravel only marked by an occasional haze of algae or detritus. The buoyancy of their bodies imparted a very long, bouncing stride to each of them, carrying them through comically awkward steps. It seemed to Jack that they moved through some kind of dark and sinister dream world.

It soon became obvious that maintaining a straight course to the center of the subterranean lake would be next to impossible. Marcus halted in indecision, unable to tell whether he marched straight toward the gyre of energy that was visible from the lakeshore or not. Jack could feel the tug of the mythal so strongly that he doubted he could walk in any other direction, even if he wanted to. He moved up and took the lead, guiding the others across the rocky bottom toward the unseen font of magic ahead. Jack trudged on for a time, and then he saw a dim glow ahead through the darkness, a bubble of green light on the lake floor ahead.

“Douse our light, Zandria,” he called through the strange medium. “There is something up ahead.”

The mage complied without a word, leaving them in blackness so complete that Jack had to repress his body’s natural rebellion at being in the cold, lightless wet. But with their light’s absence, the light ahead grew stronger. Jack led the others toward the other light, and as they drew closer it became clear that an emerald column glimmered from the lake bottom up to the unseen surface overhead, surrounded by a wall of water that streamed sluggishly around it. In fact, Jack could feel the tug of the current crossing their small circle. He advanced closer, halting only when they were a few feet from the perpendicular wall ahead. The circling current was so strong that Jack and his companions had to use their hands to steady

themselves on the rocks of the bottom in order to keep from being pulled out of Zandria’s circle.

On the other side of the glassy wall, Jack could dimly see a stone platform on the floor of the lake, surmounted by a massive stone pillar thirty or forty feet in height and at least ten feet thick at the base. The surface was far out of sight above, easily a hundred feet at this point, but the weak maelstrom circling the stone on the lake floor left a channel of air all the way to the surface, a gleaming emerald shaft that glistened with reflected light.

“The mythal,” Jack said. The water carried away his words.

Zandria tapped his shoulder and pointed to one side. There, ten figures surrounded the wild mythal, distorted and dim behind the swirling water wall. Jack could not distinguish anything other than the largest details in any of them—relative height, whether they wore light or dark clothing, where they stood in relation to each other.

“The Warlord and her men,” Zandria cried. “What now?”

“Can we breach the wall of the maelstrom?” Marcus called.

“The spell of airy water will not prevent it, but it depends on what magic holds the water at bay,” Zandria said. “The only way to know for certain would be to try.”

“We must be virtually invisible to them,” Anders said. “They would see nothing but a wall of black water from their side. We can take them unawares.”

“You mean to attack?” Jack asked.

“That is why we came down here,” Zandria said, “to foil the Warlord’s plans and to bring her to justice. Can you think of any other way to accomplish those ends?”

Jack took the question seriously and thought hard. They were seven against ten, and one of them was not a

combatant—Illyth would have no place on a battlefield. But they would possess the advantage of surprise, which counted for a lot, and ultimately, Zandria was right. They’d come here to stop the Warlord. Myrkyssa Jelan would undoubtedly resist. That meant that he had to prepare for a fight.

“No,” he admitted. “We will have to hit them hard and fast while we have surprise. Yu Wei is a very dangerous wizard—he is an old Shou who wears yellow robes. Make sure we hit him first!”

Marcus drew his sword, a bizarre motion in the water. He lowered his visor. “On the count of three, we will all try the barrier together. All of us through, or none of us. One… two… three!”

With the others, Jack scrambled forward and threw himself at the bright wall ahead, unsure of what to expect. It yielded before him, distending inward, and then he burst into open air in a spray of water and mist. He stumbled and went to all fours, then scrambled to his feet and ran forward to get clear of the maelstrom’s walls. Beside him, Illyth stumbled, while Marcus plowed through the barrier like a bright knife slicing through a sheet of wax paper.