Chapter 6
The shadows danced as the street lanterns flickered in the wind that swept between the stone buildings. Pysuun pointed at the house across the street from the alley, Shaol recognised it from the one time he had seen it, many weeks earlier.
“Hurry, keep an eye out for the patrol,” whispered Pysuun.
Shaol skipped across the street and down the short alley into the yard at the back of the house, the windows that looked down were black as the buildings slept. Shaol waited in the dark, Friend always knew when he approached and he hoped she still knew how to find him.
After a while, the yellow eyes appeared in the shadows along with the large, form of Friend. In the dim light, Shaol could see the outline of the woman with the large wings.
“It’s good to see you, again,” said Friend with a nod.
“I’m glad you waited,” replied Shaol.
“There is no one else,” said Friend with a warmth in her voice.
Shaol smiled to himself in the dark, he had missed her kind words.
“I’m going to find your treasure and then this can done.”
“And I will take the boys home.”
“And those that help.”
“As many as is needed to get what is mine. I will take them wherever they wish, I promise each this. And where will I take you?”
“When they are all safe, you’ll take me to my lake,” said Shaol, “I’ll live my last days by it’s shore.”
“I am so glad to know you will come with us.”
“There’s nothing left to be done here.”
“Then strength and patience is all you need.”
“It’s all I have ever needed,” smiled Shaol with a nod.
“You are a good friend to me.”
“I need to know about the treasure and the fortress.”
“I know nothing of the fortress, Shaol, the last time I walked the streets of Tarlnath there was no fortress or Masters, there was no need for them then. My treasure is a small wooden box that you will not be able to find yourself, that is why you must take me with you.”
“Where is it?”
“It was kept in the Temple of the Sacred Light in the old city that once stood where the fortress stands now, it will still be there waiting for us.”
“The temple is gone then, there is nothing but the fortress.”
“None would have dared to destroy the true city of Tarlnath. It is still there, under the fortress.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It is,” said Friend with a nod, “so we must find a way under the fortress and into what remains of the old city.”
“How can we get to it, then?”
“Once inside the fortress we will need to find a way down into its belly.”
Shaol puzzled over the thought of a city under a city for a moment and then shrugged it off, he did not have time to think on it now.
“That is all you know.”
“This city is a mystery to me, Shaol, that is why I need you.”
“I have stayed longer then I should. When we have found a way in I will come back for you,” said Shaol.
“I will bring myself to you,” said Friend, “the city is much more dangerous then I had thought. I do not want you to risk yourself for me.”
“How?”
“I will find a way,” said Friend, “until then do not come back here. Do not attempt to enter the fortress until I am with you, you will need my guidance.”
“I’ve missed you, Friend,” said Shaol.
“We will find a way in, I know this,” said Friend, “and then all this will be done and we will be by the lake again.”
Shaol left the yard and back across into the street to where Pysuun was waiting in the dark shadows.
“Back to the house,” said Pysuun, “we can talk there.”
The two worked there way back through the alleys, hiding around corners when the lantern light of the guards swung across the walls ahead, until they were back in the safety of the kitchen. Shaol sat on the stool and explained to Pysuun what Friend had said.
“Is it possible for a city to be under the fortress?” asked Shaol.
“The fortress is larger than anything else I have seen, it could have a city under it,” said Pysuun, “though it may not be that simple. They may have built the fortress into the old city, I had seen such things in Sowland's Watch. The Sowan used old buildings as the base for towers. If they did that here then this Temple could be inside the fortress or part of something else.”
“We need to look over the black wall,” said Shaol.
“It’s strange,” said Pysuun, “I have never heard the Masters speak of what is inside the fortress.”
“I have spent my life in its shadow,” said Shaol quietly, “and yet I have never thought on it.”
“What do you think about hiding in barrels?” asked Pysuun shrugging off the thought.
“It seems dangerous,” said Shaol, “but possible.”
“What about getting marched in with the servants?”
“It seems the best way,” said Shaol.
“Do you think the boy will come back tomorrow night?”
“Yes.”
Pysuun muttered something to himself and then found the two leather bound books he had placed in the kitchen earlier that evening and started to write something on the pages.
“I’ve decide I’m not good at pots,” said Pysuun to the pages.
“There’s not enough for two, anyway.”
“Do you know how to read or write?”
Shaol shook his head and started on the pots.
“I was the only one who survived the raid who knew letters and numbers. It’s why they didn’t kill me in the pen, the other men my age were all just taken out and stabbed.”
Shaol saw glimpses of the cage they had placed him in, it was just outside his village. He could see through the wooden stakes as the Masters huddled in a group muttering to themselves, still dressed in their dull, blood stained armour. He saw the houses of his village, black smoke rising from the roofs. When the Masters had stopped muttering his family had met the same end as the men of Pysuun’s village.
“I had taught Horsuun letters before we were captured,” continued Pysuun, “I wonder if he stills remembers.”
“He does, the kids always remember.”
“We will find a small store and start another trade,” said Pysuun to no one, “and we’re going to continue as though these years never happened.”
Shaol scrubbed the pots, the milk slowly turning grey as he did. The sun came and the house woke. Pysuun had finished with his books and Shaol stacked the pots, trying to remember where Faun had told him to place them, but one pot looked very similar to another, so Shaol still got it wrong.
The water was to be delivered that morning, so Shaol spent the early morning hauling the empty metal barrels from the water room into the street and then awaited the large wagon of drums.
When it arrived, the empty drums were collected by the Unders that pulled the wagon, while the larger ones heaved the full barrels from the wagon and placed them in front of Shaol. There were no words, just silent labour until the job was done, then the wagon continued to the next house where the Masters that lived there hauled their own empty barrels, their Unders too weak to lift the barrels alone and the Master always refused to work with those beneath them.
Faun joined Shaol and helped him carry the water, barrel by barrel, into the house and placed them in the cramped water room under the stairs. When the last barrel was placed, Pysuun appeared to bolt, lock and chain the door. The Masters prized their water over all else and went to great lengths to keep it secure, even though Shaol had never seen one in the city who had the courage to steal such a precious thing.
When the work was done Mistress came down the stairs and approached Shaol.
“You will go to the market and fetch four pots of lantern oil, eight raw skewers and a bag of salt,” she said quickly and handed
him three bags of coins, “these coins for the oil, these for the skewers and these coins are for the salt. Get a bag from the kitchen, you’ll need it to carry the oil.”
Shaol was surprised, Mistress had never let him go to market alone before.
“Do you know I am trusting you with this?” she said his a hard voice.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Mistress nodded and turned without another word, her large, leather dress hitting the walls of the tight corridor and disappeared up the stairs.
Shaol walked through the busy streets of the city, the leather bag in his hand clinked with the coin purses Mistress had given him. Masters strolled the wide streets followed by flocks of children and Unders.
After only a few wrong turns Shaol found the large marketplace. It was quiet today, many of the stores had not been opened, their leather covers pulled over the metal stands. A handful of Masters wandered, lazily, amongst those that were open looking at nothing. Shaol approached the salt store first and was given a pouch of salt, he then approached the meat stand and received the skewers, finally he found the Under that sold the lantern oil and bought the heavy, clay pots. Shaol did his best to count the number he was given was correct. The low numbers were easy for him, but when the numbers became large, like the ones in the Master’s books, his mind would swim and he would lose track of what they meant.
With the goods in hand, Shaol turned from the square and look up the black wall that stood behind the stone buildings of the city. Shaol left the market and found his way back to the wide road that cut through the city and led the way to the one open gate. The street was wide enough to take four or more wagons, lined on both side by lanterns larger than those that sat above the other streets, most sat on poles, but others had even been hung from rope strung up between buildings.
Shaol looked up the road and even though he was a good distance from the wall, he could easily see the large mouth of fortress gate as tall as the largest building in the city.
Shaol turned away from the gate and made his way down the street in the direction of Master’s house. As he walked, a wagon loaded with goods came rolling up towards him. It was filled to top with barrels, boxes and folds of leather and bundles of tools. Several large Unders pulled the goods up the road while a handful of others trailed behind.
The wagon passed and Shaol continued his way back to the house, the inner gate appeared at the end the wide street set into the the inner wall, beyond it sat the orange and brown of his old life.
Suddenly, more guards than Shaol could count turned from the streets that ran in front of the inner wall. Two columns, two guards wide came together to create a column four wide, the guards came together in perfect lines and formed a marching wall of flesh, leather and iron. Their armour crashed against itself, hard and loud, as they stepped forward together each boot hitting the the road at the same time. Even though there was enough room for them to pass Shaol easily, he still jumped out up and off the road onto the pavement and watched the long, lines pass him. As they did, Shaol wondered if they were heading into the fortress. He looked at the meat in his hands, Mistress was expecting him home soon but he wanted to know.
Shaol followed at a distance as the guards continued up the street. The Master and Under who were using the road jumped aside for the procession. The guards seemed to become smaller as they found themselves in the mouth of the enormous fortress gate. The wagon of goods was already in front being emptied by the Unders.
The four lines continued forward until they were just in front of the goods wagon, then the columns split again. Two turned to the left, two turned to the right and the guards continued to march along street that ran in front of the black wall, their boots still hit the ground together. Not one of the guards had came close to the large gate.
Shaol looked at the tunnel for the first time. The huge, dark throat that vanished as it turned far in the distance was more imposing than the black walls that hid the fortress. Torches burnt on the walls lighting spots of the tunnel here and there. Something was moving in the gloom, Shaol could just see the shape of a wagon being pulled out of the depths by a group of Unders.
The goods had been placed a good distance from the gate and the guards were now lifting and moving the goods underneath to the open arch to the other side. The wagon continued to approach slowly from deep inside the wall.
Shaol had seen as much as he could, he saw the guards disappearing along the black walls as it curved. He turned and continued back down the road towards the inner gate and Master’s house.
Mistress was waiting.
“You’re late,” said Mistress, flatly as he entered.
Shaol stood in the doorway.
“Where were you?” she asked.
“I got lost in the streets, Mistress.”
“Do you know your way now?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“I won’t be forgiving next time,” she spat, “get to the kitchen.”
Mistress stomped up the stairs and Shaol rushed into the kitchen where Faun was working on the evening meal.
“Come on,” said Faun, “I need to get these on the stove.”
Shaol handed him the meat and took the salt from his pocket.
“You need to be more careful,” said Faun without looking up from the stove, “if you’re caught, it’s the rest of us that pay.”
Shaol did not respond. He started taking the clay pots out of the bag and put them in the cupboard. Faun said nothing else, he just went about cooking the meal for the family.
Shaol knew he had been caught and he should have been more careful, but he had seen the gate and he had seen the transfer of the goods, he had seen the guards march the streets, he had seen the torches that lit the way to Friend’s treasure. He felt closer to the fortress, it felt like a real place that that he could enter if he could just find a way.
The morning came and Shaol woke on top his blanket. Pysuun was already awake and was standing under the grate. Without words they moved through the others that lay on the floor and climbed the stairs to the kitchen. Pysuun went to the backdoor, unlocked it and took it off it latch.
Shaol took the knives from the walls and started to sharpen them. Pysuun had one of Mistress’ leather dresses in hand and began to rub a wax into the material making it soft.
“You’re both very good servants,” said Raphtune as he pushed open the door, “maybe I should consider take one of you with me to wash my clothes and make my meals.”
Pysuun shook his head but said nothing.
“What did your friend have to say?” asked Raphtune as he pulled down his black hood.
“Anyone that helps us will be taken from the city,” said Shaol, “it’s a promise to them from Friend, herself.”
“That’s very generous,” said Raphtune, “did she explain how she will do that?”
“She can do it,” said Shaol flatly.
Raphtune sighed.
“Did she say what this treasure is and how we can find it?”
“There is an old city behind the wall,” said Shaol, “the treasure is there in the Temple of the Sacred Light.”
“The Sacred Light?”
“You know it?”
Raphtune was quiet for a moment.
“Anything else?” he said finally.
“Pysuun thinks the temple might be part of the fortress, Friend thinks it could be under the fortress.”
“Or torn apart to build the black walls,” shrugged Raphtune.
“Friend says the Masters would have left the city.”
“My boots are quite dirty,” said Raphtune looking at Pysuun still rubbing the wax into the leather, “do you clean shoes, as well?”
Pysuun continued to ignore the boy.
“What do you think?” asked Shaol.
“I don’t think you know much more than you did two nights ago.”
“We know plenty,” sighed Pysuun, “we need to look down, we know we are looking for a temple and what its called. We ar
e not going to know everything before we go inside.”
“I would like know something meaningful though,” said Raphtune flatly, “I was looking around the city and found the new slaves you heard about, the ones headed for the fortress.”
“Can we look like them?” asked Pysuun.
“More or less,” said Raphtune, “except for one small difference. You still have your tongue.”
“What?” asked Pysuun.
“The Orsil have cut out their tongues,” said Raphtune, “I told you they were paranoid.”
“That’s disgusting,” exclaimed Pysuun.
“They will forget,” said Shaol quietly to himself.
“But, like I also said, the Orsil are stupid,” said Raphtune, “if you’re going to take the tongue you should also take the hands.”
“They can write,” laughed Pysuun.
Raphtune nodded with a smile.
“I found one,” said Raphtune, “her name is Hassa and she is very eager to help, with her you’ll have eyes beyond the wall.”
“When do they go in?” asked Shaol.
“Not sure,” said Raphtune, “but we have a few days and that’s all we need.”
“We need her to find the old city,” said Shaol.
“We also need her to tell us if we can get in by the goods wagon,” said Pysuun.
“Guards and their movements,” added Raphtune.
“We can get her messages in with the goods wagon,” said Pysuun, “I know a man who works the goods wagon, he hates the Orsil, he will help us get the messages through.”
“Can he deliver the goods himself?” asked Raphtune.
“He should be able too, why?” said Pysuun.
“Less chance of another finding the message,” said Raphtune.
“A fold of leather with a mark on it, a circle with a line through it,” said Shaol, “we put the clay in the leather and we mark it. He then places the leather in front of gate. Hassa must find a way to get it from there.”
“How do we get messages out?” asked Pysuun.
“Over the wall,” said Shaol, “it may be in pieces but we can put it back together. Tell her we will take anyone who is willing to help us.”
“She may have a hard time telling people that,” said Raphtune shaking his head, “but I will give her your message. Are you sure your friend on the goods wagon is willing to help?”
“He is more than willing,” said Pysuun, “he’s new to the city and wants to go as bad as we do.”
“I need a way for the others to identify him,” said Raphtune.
“He wears a ferret skin cap, he is short, has copper skin and brown, wavy hair, to the shoulder.”
“That should be enough.”
“What does Hassa look like?” asked Shaol
“Young, tall, skinny, Uln with light, white, hair that runs down to her waist.”
“How long do you think she will need?” asked Pysuun.
“As long as it takes,” said Shaol, “she will need time to learn the fortress and gain the trust of the Masters and the other Unders.”
“Sadly, Raphtune the Missing does not have an eternity to wait,” said the boy, “he will have his boots cleaned for helping, but then he must be moving on.”
“You don’t want to see the fortress?” asked Shaol.
“There are other things in the world to see,” said Raphtune with a shrug, “I have The First Kingdom to explore and then Dragon Perch. The Fortress of Tarlnath can wait for another day.”
“Will you help us start the messages?” asked Pysuun suddenly desperate.
“Raphtune the Missing always helps those in need for a small price,” said the boy with a small, “he only asks his boots glisten when he walks from Tarlnath.”
“They will,” said Pysuun.
“Give us a month,” said Shaol, “you may still see the fortress.”
“Four weeks I’ll give you, but then I’ll be finished with this city.”
“Good,” said Pysuun.
Raphtune pulled his hood on and walked to the backdoor.
“I will return when I know more, I will knock four times,” said the boy and he was gone.
The next morning, as Shaol scrubbed the pots, there was four quiet taps at the kitchen door. Pysuun pulled himself away from the trousers he was mending and opened the door. In the dark yard, on the step, there was a small pair of muddy boots made of plush fur and brilliant silver. Pysuun brought them into the kitchen and as Shaol cleaned the pots, Pysuun cleaned the boots.