Sartor

  A morning’s fruitless search in the cold and increasing fog had steadily diminished her hopes when she heard the sounds of pursuit. She transferred up to a hill at the edge of a wood in order to look, and found herself surrounded by even thicker fog.

  A lone figure on horseback rode past her, followed by a thick swirl of such magic-charged mist a faint shimmer coruscated on the edges of her vision.

  She tried to blink it away as the rider glanced back. An ebb in the swirling haze outlined a vaguely familiar shape. The low sun shone on black hair and a handsome profile that she’d last seen in Kessler’s desert camp in ’33. She frowned. That couldn’t be that big one Kessler had taken prisoner from Tser Mearsies, could he? What was his name?

  It didn’t matter. She continued her search, until she discovered herself surrounded by Kessler’s own picked guard.

  “Where’s the force?” the patrol captain asked Dejain. “We were ordered to pursue them.”

  She peered past him into the glittering vapor, and made out vague shapes.

  Oh.

  “There is no force,” she yelled, furious. “You idiots! This magic—it’s nothing but illusion! It’s a ruse!”

  A ruse? They whipped round and thundered back down the road.

  Dejain whispered, “Landis.”

  Why hadn’t she considered what that meant? If a real Landis heir had shown up, who knew what powers she’d been taught, or would re-emerge in her name?

  Trouble wasn’t just possible, it was here. Now.

  She transferred back to the base to get the last ditch defenses she’d prepared.

  TWELVE

  At least the water running along the slough was warm, Atan thought. Perhaps this was because of all the fires above, kindled in kitchens and on hearths as more people woke up from the enchantment each day. Either that or some strange, mysterious old magic that she would have to learn about...

  Mind. Stop wandering. Pay attention. Danger will not go away just because you want to hide.

  The drain water was also clean, save for leaves and grass and the detritus of autumn, which meant it had to be part of the river, and not just snowmelt. The walls varied in the type and size of stone used, but all of it looked very, very old.

  “This way,” Merewen panted, when they reached a fork.

  Atan sensed a weak tug of whatever magic guided Merewen so unerringly, and changed direction to follow. Hinder and Lilah plodded grimly in her wake, Hinder gripping his bow and looking in all directions. Lilah kept her hands balled in the pockets of her black clothing. She wasn’t going to tell anyone, but after she’d been so sure about ‘a way to defend them’ to little Julian back there, she’d remembered all those plunges in into water, and had surreptitiously checked her pockets.

  Sure enough, the Lure had turned to a mass of rotted leaves. Only the faintest whiff escaped the bag, meaning that the blossoms’ effectiveness had completely washed out somewhere in the morvende hot baths.

  All right, so she’d learned other skills. Now it was time to put them to use.

  They ducked around a new waterfall coming down from a street grate, and found themselves at another crossing. Merewen frowned.

  “I think we had better go alone,” she said, pointing to herself and Atan.

  Atan stared. Merewen’s face was a pale blob in the weak light from a distant grating. “Is it the enchantment?”

  Merewen turned her head from side to side as though listening for something beyond normal hearing.

  An image of some kind—not her memory, it had that blue ‘feel’ to it which meant it was from the Loi, somehow—overlaid dream images, so bright and vivid and urgent she almost couldn’t see her own bare toes on the watery stone. It was all too quick and too strange for her to make enough sense of it to explain. She could only shake her head and point, and hope that as these images were getting stronger, they might become more comprehensible.

  Hinder said, “It’s got to be the tower. That means the palace is up that way. Maybe Lilah and I should begin our guarding from here.” He hefted his bow.

  Lilah gave a lopsided smile. “How about if we each patrol back and forth? I’ve got my Sharadan Brothers tools. They ought to be good for something.”

  Atan drew in a shaky breath. “There are only two of you. And you are very dear. Maybe we should go together. Four would be better, should we encounter the enemy.”

  “Guarding your back actually means decoying them away from you,” Lilah reminded her. “We can’t do that if we’re all together.”

  “Now.” Merewen rubbed her eyes, then darted into the left fork, her bare feet smacking on the old stone. Atan cast a worried look back at the other two, then followed after.

  “Let’s go,” Hinder said, and Lilah followed, trying to quell her churning stomach.

  o0o

  After a long time of quiet, Julian heard horse hooves and voices. She stood up, hoping it was Rel.

  A circle of unfamiliar men gazed down at her. They looked like those terrible riders who had chased them. That meant they were the Norsundrians.

  She’d thought out a plan in case they came.

  “Help?” she cried, trying to sound as babyish as she could.

  They talked in low voices, then a man said, “Well, bring her up.”

  A man extended his hand, reaching down. Julian stood on her tiptoes. Fingers grasped her wrist and hauled her to the surface and set her down. The light seemed bright, and she blinked.

  “Who are you?”

  “Julian. Who are you?”

  “Kessler,” the man said, as someone behind laughed.

  Kessler shot a glance backward, and into the instant silence, he asked Julian, “How did you get down there?”

  “I fell,” Julian said. “I was playing.”

  “Playing!” one of the men repeated, and laughed. “In the middle of a war?”

  Kessler said, “I don’t think she’s an artifact of the war. This grate was recently moved. Look at the marks.” Then, back to Julian, who understood that her plan had gone awry. Her eyes stung. She’d thought it out so carefully!

  “You moved that grate yourself?” Kessler asked.

  Julian said stoutly, “Sure.”

  “Then let’s see you put it back.”

  She knew she wouldn’t be able to move it. Once again, disappointment made her eyes sting as she gazed up at Kessler, whose eyes were so much like Atan’s in shape, but their color was blue. Was he a cousin of some sort?

  He looked down at the teary face with the same interest, thinking, This one isn’t Yustnesveas Landis. A sister? Cousin?

  Whoever she was, he knew she was lying. Well, so was everyone else. The brat was smart enough to get an early start.

  He tipped his head back and glanced skyward. To the west stood the old tower, the one even Detlev couldn’t bring down, only bind by magical wards. What had happened was clear enough; someone, probably the Landis girl, had gotten into the city via the drains. The only surprise was that they’d left this brat behind to cover for them.

  “The Landis girl and her little band have not only breached the city, they’re probably in or near that tower,” he said to his men. They muttered, then he cut them off and pointed at the drain. “Tell Abselec to flush ’em out,” he said to one of the runners, who leaped up on his horse and galloped away.

  Then he turned his attention back to Julian. She was small, but smart.

  “Come along,” he said. “My guess is that your friend won’t like seeing your fingers broken one by one, will she?”

  Julian’s eyes welled with tears at last, not from fear, for she had scarcely comprehended his words, but from the conviction that her plan, her own plan of which she’d been so proud, had gone completely wrong. She should have stayed with the sisters, even if Irza pinched and whispered about princesses—

  Julian gulped, and then bit her lips, struggling not to cry in front of these enemies.

  Kessler laughed, and lifted her up onto his horse. “Cheer
up. Nobody dies from broken fingers, and my guess is your friend will only be able to stand seeing one or two broken before she gives it up. I promise I’ll let you go as soon as she does.”

  Julian heaved a shaky sob.

  “I’ll even set them for you, first,” Kessler said, still smiling, for he now had the wherewithal to stop Atan—whether or not Dejain showed up with all her magic spells that, so far, did not seem to be working. “I learned how to set bones when I was your age. It happened often enough to me, and I never did have any friend to bind mine.”

  He mounted behind her, and they rode away straight for the city gates.

  o0o

  Merewen and Atan found their drain tunnel angling upward. It became a passageway, complete with glowglobes set at intervals. The air was very still, cool but not cold.

  Abruptly the passage changed to a stairway, which they ran up, both breathing hard. The came to a wooden door, pushed their way through, and found themselves standing on a carpet of midnight blue, woven with intertwined lilies. Atan smelled dust and wool. Her neck-hairs prickled because the scents were so familiar, yet the place was new to her eyes.

  It was her home.

  She tried to take a step and discovered that she was trembling. Merewen glanced her way anxiously. “This way.”

  The pull of the magic was stronger now, for them both.

  They ran down the carpeted hallway, their footsteps soundless. Atan tried to be aware of her surroundings, but only retained impressions of carved furnishings, handsome inlay, wall-sconces, and tapestries. A window cast low winter light aslant at their feet as they passed. The smell of mildew made her want to laugh because it was so... so ordinary, so unexpected, and because if she didn’t laugh she might yell and scream.

  They rounded a corner and jolted to a stop, face to face with four Norsundrian soldiers.

  o0o

  Lilah and Hinder toiled back and forth, eyeing the many dark tunnel entrances. For a while, neither spoke.

  “There are way too many of these tunnels,” Lilah finally pointed out.

  “So you didn’t see which one they used?” Hinder sighed.

  Lilah grimaced. “Great back guards we turned out to be.”

  Hinder put his hands on his hips. “Then we lost them. I don’t think we’ll make amends by walking around to no purpose, unless the Norsundrians come.”

  “So let’s be organized. We’ll choose a tunnel, explore to its end, then retreat back here. Go to the next. Keep doing it until we find their tower.”

  “Good idea.”

  The next stairway they came to, they toiled up, Lilah grumbling about how nastily her shoes squished in the moss. Hinder, barefooted, smiled inwardly.

  They reached the top and discovered a latched grate that seemed to be built into a kind of well. They swung the grate down, popped their heads up—and found themselves in a little courtyard. Surrounding them were a number of Norsundrians, all watching with interest. Swords, knives, and bows pointed their way.

  They looked at one another and heaved a sigh.

  “So much for my good ideas,” Lilah muttered. “I know...”

  Hinder was astonished when she gazed around, her mouth open. “Where am I?” she said slowly, as though blind.

  The enchantment! Delighted with her quick thinking, Hinder extended his hands, as though feeling along a darkened tunnel. “Where am I?” he echoed, fumbling around as if they’d just woken up from the century-long dream.

  o0o

  Atan and Merewen dove under a side table.

  The four Norsundrians marched right past, their gazes so fixed and distant it was clear that they were enchanted. The girls could have stood still right out in the open and those warriors never would have seen them.

  How long had those men been marching around like that? Atan wondered.

  It didn’t matter. The important thing was that the enchantment binding Sartor still seemed to be in force in places, but so far, at least, she and Merewen were escaping its effect.

  So far.

  “Up here.” Merewen pointed at an archway, through which they could see a curving stair. Atan swayed, rubbing her eyes. I’m dizzy.

  The stairway was narrow, made of a peculiar glistening white stone. It spiraled upward twice before opening into a round room jumbled with tables and rolled tapestries, and shelves and trunks. Near at hand were books spread open on a little round table with thin gilt-edged legs. The books looked very, very old. Atan bent down to look. The book was so old that the writing was vertical, and not across. Old Sartoran.

  Atan was here. This was the ancient tower.

  So... what was she supposed to find? Tsauderei had felt certain that once she reached this place, she would discover the means to end the enchantment. So far, in spite of all the dangers, she’d made it. So she must keep on.

  She turned in a slow circle, taking in every object: the rich velvet hangings, the fine molding on the hilts of a stack of swords against a cabinet, and shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. This chamber appeared to be an archive, with most of the written records neatly stored, except for that pile over on the walnut table with the curving legs that looked like stylized animal legs. The small pile of books lay in disorder, as though hastily put down. And they did not look old, either.

  She picked up the closest. The writing was small and dense, each entry topped with a date more than a century ago. This was a diary or journal. She leafed back through, until her eye was caught by the word Dei. She skimmed rapidly, and saw that it was an indictment of the Dei family for conspiracy—

  She closed the book and laid it down, turning around with a furtive, almost guilty glance.

  Merewen stood on the other side of the room, watching her.

  “Is it bad for you, too?” she asked.

  “Bad?” Atan didn’t know how to answer, so she shrugged.

  Merewen sat down, hugging her arms close. “You don’t see double, like me, do you? I think you are feeling bad about the Deis, aren’t you?”

  Atan could not hide her surprise.

  Merewen sighed and turned her head to observe the pale blue shapes crowding about, somewhat like the flickers in the water of the lakes underground, but these were made of air. Sometimes she could see through them to the solid walls and furnishings of wood and stone and fabric, but then there were brief, sparkling moments when she saw different shapes, a little like shadows except in color, and there were the hands that had shaped the stone walls, and carved the wood, and woven the fabric—memories sent by the blue ones. Many of them whispered.

  When Atan opened the book, Merewen heard a whisper reading the entries aloud. When Atan laid the book down, the whisper went silent. Merewen was glad. She didn’t like the tone or the hurtful words about the Deis, who she knew were part of her family.

  As Atan stood there looking sad and puzzled, Merewen moved through the crowd of blue shadows step by step, as though she were in water, until she found herself in reach of a new object made of paper with words on it, a great, beautifully bound tome. Golden clasps kept it shut. All the blue shadows gathered around.

  Merewen looked up at Atan. “Touch it.”

  Yes. That was right. The blue hands reached, some with fingers spread, some with cupped palms, as though holding precious water. All over and around and under the book.

  Atan extended a grubby hand. She saw her own dust and mud-smeared fingers and snatched them back, and tried to wipe them clean, but her clothes were also grubby and damp. So she reached again and gently laid her hand on the book.

  Snap! With a spark of magic, more felt than seen, a glowing image of a plump, sweet-faced woman of grandmotherly age appeared between the girls.

  “Lilith the Guardian,” Atan whispered, wonderstruck. Tsauderei had told her about the Old Sartoran sorceress often enough, and shown her a sketch made by unknown hands, in a scroll a thousand years old. She, like the authors of Norsunder, lived beyond time.

  I leave this message with the Loi, for the one
who comes to break the spell, she said.

  Atan glanced at Merewen’s bowed head. Did she hear something different?

  The binding spells are here in this book, but you must be trained in magic to perform them, lest you lose yourself between what we call the measures of time.

  The woman’s image faded into faint twinkles, like distant stars, and then winked out, leaving Atan staring down at the gold-clasped book.

  “That’s me,” she said. “I am the one.”

  She opened the book.

  o0o

  Irza and her party halted in a drain when they heard scrapes and sloshes. The noise swiftly resolved into Kessler’s guards marching along the main drain, one of them cursing.

  Irza grinned. “This is the right one,” she whispered. “I remember it, I remember it!”

  “Do you know where we are?” Sana asked.

  “Oh yes, I do,” Irza said, full of joy. “I know exactly where we are. That way is Parleas Terrace, where Ianth House lies.” Her voice was full of pride. “So the Apsos is over there.” She raised her voice. “Oh, Princess Yustnesveas Landis! This way!”

  Arlas laughed, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Here, Princess Yustnesveas, over here!”

  “The Landis queen! Princess, here!” Sana called in her clear, beautiful voice.

  Landisss.... Landissss.... Princessss.... The echoes spread through the drains, causing a sudden silence. Then they heard the sound of running feet. Many running feet.

  Irza laughed as she led the way down the tunnels, drawing the Norsundrians out and away from the palace.

  o0o

  Kessler and his men clattered through the city gates to the courtyard of their command post, the horses sweaty and foam-flecked. Kessler sprang down and began issuing orders. He was still speaking as he reached up to lift Julian to the ground.

  One of the garrison runners approached. “We just now nabbed a pair of children from one of the drain wells. We think they might just be locals, but—”

  “Bring them here,” Kessler said.

  The runner took off for the other end of the palace complex, where the time spells had faded. There Hinder and Lilah had been locked up for later questioning, the Norsundrians having fallen for Lilah’s hasty ruse.