Chapter V
“The Free City”
At length Kelorn stirred. Alirah let out an explosive breath of relief. Stiffly they crawled out from behind the bushes, then stood about brushing off leaves and twigs.
“Are you okay?” asked Kelorn.
“Yeah… Are you?”
“Yeah. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Shyly he reached out and took hold of her hand once more. By then Alirah’s sight had improved considerably. She could have run without his guidance, but she squeezed his hand anyway. Together they crept out of their hiding place and made their way back down to where they’d left Tryll and Melyr, still a quarter of a mile or so away. Only when they drew close to the horses did Alirah take her hand back.
Wearily they mounted and rode away. For the rest of the night they hurried on as fast as the horses could carry them. At first Kelorn steered them due eastward, so that they quickly left the woods behind them. Open plains soon spread out on all sides. The grasslands offered no cover aside from sparse stands of gambrel oak and the occasional solitary pine tree, but Alirah sensed that the Taragi pursuit had ended back in the woods. Nothing moved upon the moonlit prairie besides field mice scurrying in the grass.
Alirah and Kelorn barely spoke five words to each other while the night lasted. At first they feared being overheard. Later the quiet clearness of the night, coming after the horrible noise and darkness of the ritual, felt too blessed to be broken by idle words. Alirah’s vision returned to normal, though her eyes remained dry and achy.
Eventually Kelorn turned north again and slackened their pace a little. By the time dawn began to grow in the east they’d put many miles between them and the wooded ridge. The slowly rising swells of land had smoothed out into a broad, flat expanse that was nearly level. A small stream flowed through the midst of this plain. High stands of willows and tamarisk grew about the water, along with a few cottonwood trees.
“We’ll rest here, for a while at least,” said Kelorn. His voice was husky and he looked haggard. “There’s water and at least some cover.”
They rode slowly to a spot at the edge of the stream, where a few cottonwoods grew together and formed a bastion amidst the willows. Cold and stiff, Alirah and Kelorn slipped from their saddles like dropped sacks of meal. They hobbled to the edge of the stream and drank, then returned to the trees.
Alirah sat with her back against one of the cottonwoods and her legs drawn up before her. Her arms were wrapped about her knees and she gazed straight ahead. She saw nothing but awful memories: the boys being cut, the horrible kindling of the star, and the darkness which had come after. Soon she became aware of riotous birdsong all around her. At least a dozen small, gray birds perched precariously in the willows nearby, and all of them were now warbling happily at the oncoming dawn. She glared at them.
Kelorn had sat down across the little clearing from her. For a few minutes he sat as she did, lost in his own shadows. Then at length he stirred.
“Are you okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah,” she mumbled at once, although she felt anything but okay. For a few more seconds she was silent, and then as if a dam had burst words began to pour out of her indignantly. “What was that? What were they doing? How could he just cut up those boys like that? He could have killed any one of them! And what was that horrible star? What were they doing?”
“Making warriors,” muttered Kelorn.
His voice, though soft, dripped with bitterness and scorn. Alirah blinked in surprise.
“What? What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Nothing. I didn’t mean… I don’t really know what they were doing. But I’d bet a lot they were initiating those boys as warriors of some kind. Or else just as men of their tribe. They do the same kind of thing back home.”
Alirah gaped at him, appalled. “They do that in Arandia?”
“Well not that, exactly… Of course not! They just… Oh, never mind! Look, whatever else those people were doing, I know what that priest did at the end. I’m sure that man with the cape was a priest of the Darkness. What he did is something awful and evil. It’s called Marking the Black Star.”
“It didn’t look very black.”
“If you went back there now it would. A year from now you’d still find a four-pointed star burned into the earth. There’d be nothing but blackened rock and ash and melted glass. Nothing will grow there for a long, long time.”
“What does it mean? What is the Black Star?”
“The Black Star was the device of the Dark Lord of old. Now it’s become the symbol of all those who still worship the Deceiver as he once did. Marking the Black Star is a kind of evil rite, an invocation of the Deceiver and a declaration of one’s faith in him. There aren’t many who would dare to do it, or who have the power. Only the Sa’Hadran themselves, I guess, and a few others.”
“Was that man a Sa’Hadran then? A Darksoul?” Alirah felt fresh alarm. “When my father spoke of them I thought they were only something to do with Arandia and the East.”
“I don’t know.” Kelorn shook his head. “Certainly that priest worships the Deceiver, but that by itself doesn’t make him a Sa’Hadran. They are an order unto themselves. There aren’t many of them left and their ways are secret.”
“The Dark Lord ruled in the east, it is true, but after he was overthrown those few of his followers who survived fled everywhere. Now it’s in Arandia and the East where they are fewest, and in hiding. It is in remote places, places of ignorance and fear, where they flourish. The Taragi would not be the first people to fall into the worship of the Darkness. More than one horde of barbarians has come roaring up out of the west to make war upon Arandia and all those who worship Illana and the Light. They come and fight us, even though they pass by empty lands on their way where they could just settle in peace. If that what’s going on now, it’s good news for your people. If they can just stay out of the way for a little while, the Taragi will pass them by.”
Alirah’s heart skipped a beat. All of a sudden she thought of her mother and father, her siblings, and everyone else in the pana barely three day’s ride away. Before she could stop herself she imagined the Taragi warriors sweeping down upon them, burning and killing, and then marking that terrible star among the ruins and the dead.
She shook her head to drive the nightmare away. As it departed she found herself even more angry than afraid. All the terrible stories she’d heard about the Taragi over the past few years came to her mind. She hated the idea that a few wicked men might be driving them onward, spreading fear and violence where there had been so little of it before. She hated those men and she hated the Taragi for letting themselves be driven so.
“I wish someone would stop them,” she murmured. Her voice was soft but vehement, and a light shone in her eyes. “I wish I could stop them.”
Kelorn nodded vaguely, lost in his own thoughts. For a moment they were both silent. Then the young Druid sighed and hung his head.
“None of that matters right now, I guess. I’m just sorry you had to see all that. You have the Sight… it’s no wonder it affected you so. I never should have let you come up there with me.”
“I don’t recall asking for permission,” said Alirah crisply.
“You should have. And I shouldn’t have given it.”
Alirah glared at him. He did not see her; he just stared at the ground by his feet unhappily. After a moment she decided she was too tired to argue. She took a deep breath.
“Well, no matter who should have done what, you don’t need to be sorry. You got me out of there at least. All I did was scream and get myself blinded. If you hadn’t been there… I don’t want to think about it.”
He looked up again with a forlorn little smile. By then the deep, blue light in the east had brightened to a pale gray. In one spot a brilliant glow spoke of the approaching sun. Kelorn sighed.
/> “Well, it’s over for now, anyway. We should rest while we can. You get some sleep. I’ll keep watch for a while.”
Alirah hesitated. She felt sure she would have nightmares, if she could fall asleep at all. Also she wondered if she should ask about the dreadful something she had seen when the Black Star was kindled. She gathered that he had not seen it, and therefore she told herself it must only have been something dreamed up by her own mind, or the Sight, in response to the horror of the ritual. Yet she could not shake the feeling that something had really been there: some hidden demon of hate and fear. At last, aching with weariness, she decided that she didn’t want to know. Without another word she flung out her bedroll and lay down upon it.
At first her sleep was shallow and uneasy. She tossed and turned and murmured fearfully in dark dreams. But after an hour or so she half awoke, or else had a different dream that she remembered. She was not sure which it was. In her sleep she thought she heard a voice speaking softly. She rolled over and opened her eyes.
The sun must have just risen, for the whole eastern sky burned golden. In her bleary eyes the entire world was swallowed up in a blazing magnificence. The only thing she could see clearly was Kelorn. He knelt a few yards away, facing east, so that he was silhouetted against the glorious dawn. He held his sword before him in both hands, with the point of the weapon thrust downward into the earth. His head was bowed and he was murmuring to himself in a strange language. She felt certain that he was praying.
Something in this sight, or dream, made her smile at him. She felt suddenly very safe and warm. Then she rolled back over and fell more deeply asleep. For the rest of the day no more nightmares troubled her.
Kelorn did not wake her. Her eyes fluttered open on their own, and she knew at once he’d let her sleep too long. Soft, red sunlight slanted low amidst the willows. The sun hovered just above the western horizon and was partially veiled by ranks of thin, high clouds.
Alirah sat up in alarm. For an instant she was certain that something horrible had happened. She imagined that Kelorn and the horses had been killed by Taragi warriors, and that they now lurked in the bushes all around her. Then, blinking, she saw that Kelorn still sat right beside her. He’d only fallen fast asleep.
The young Druid lay slumped against the trunk of a cottonwood tree. In sleep he wore an expression of pain and anxiety. He murmured softly and fidgeted as if lost in unpleasant dreams. Alirah let herself relax and gazed at him in sympathy. Then a mischievous grin stole onto her face. She reached out and nudged his foot with her own.
“I thought you were going to wake me up,” she said loudly.
Kelorn snapped awake. In one wild, jerky motion he shot to his feet and drew his sword. The blade rang loudly has he pulled it free of its sheath. At the same time he let out a half-formed, incoherent yell. Alirah scrambled away in terror.
“It’s okay!” she cried. “It’s okay! Calm down!”
He froze, then stood for a moment blinking rapidly. He looked all around himself in bewilderment. Finally he saw the frightened look upon her face. A red blush spread across his cheeks and with shaking hands he sheathed his sword.
“I fell asleep,” he muttered, looking away from her.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I meant to wake you up at lunchtime, but…” He shook his head miserably. “I must have been asleep since morning myself!”
“It’s okay,” she began.
“No it’s not!” He looked stricken, as if he’d just found out he’d maimed someone by accident. “It was my duty to stay awake! Anything could have happened to us! To you…”
“But nothing did happen,” she interrupted. “And we both needed sleep, and now we both got sleep. So everything’s alright. Now let’s just eat some breakfast, or dinner or whatever, and keep going. Okay?”
He did not look convinced. For a long moment he just gazed at her in silence. Looking into his eyes she saw a guilt that was so intense it bordered on self-loathing.
“It’s all right,” she murmured again.
At last he sighed, and then managed an unconvincing smile. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s get out of here.”
They rode on again while the western horizon was still silhouetted by the sunset. Conscious of having taxed the horses severely the previous night, Kelorn led them now at a slow pace. Throughout the night he remained tense and alert, trying to look everywhere at once. Alirah was certain he was trying in vain to make up for having fallen asleep earlier, and she felt sorry for him. There was nothing to be seen, however. They encountered nothing more threatening that night than a few coyotes which yipped at them in irritation before running away. Towards dawn they found as sheltered a spot as they could, ate a little, and settled down to sleep in turns.
For the next few nights they rode on in much the same way. As summer approached the days were growing hot and dry, the nights cool and clear. To pass the hours while they rode Alirah made conversation, though she had to make almost all of it on her own. She spoke at length about her life among the Kwi’Kiri. Kelorn listened attentively, though she could tell he was quickly bewildered by all the unfamiliar names. He was especially interested in all that she could tell him about her father and mother and their flight together from Calimshaan.
Kelorn said only a few words in return. Alirah gathered that he was from a place called Fellsyr, which was the northernmost of the five kingdoms-within-a-kingdom that comprised Arandia. He described a land of high, granite mountains and deep river valleys where snows piled high in winter. But he seemed reluctant to speak of his own home. Whenever he did so a look of pain slowly clouded his boyish, expressive face. Then he’d either fall silent or shyly turn the conversation back towards her.
Soon the landscape around them began to change. Throughout their journey the land had risen slowly, and now Alirah could tell that it had gotten drier as they’d climbed. The tall green grass became shorter and more yellow: paler under the waning moon. The big stands of gambrel oak diminished and were replaced by low growths of sagebrush and other desert shrubs. Faint, crisscrossing deer and antelope paths became clearer upon the hard earth. Now and then they came upon a more prominent track that could only have been made by people. No footprints or hoof prints were visible in the night, but seeing the swaths of hard-packed ground Alirah imagined a long procession of men, women, and children journeying together, leading their animals and carrying everything they owned on their backs.
As they passed one of these more prominent trails Alirah gave voice to a question which had begun to bother her.
“So, how do you know where we’re going, anyway? I mean, I know you said Rusukhor was north of us somewhere, and we’re going that way, but shouldn’t we look for a road or a trail or something?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think there are any roads. But Rusukhor is hard to miss. You’ll see. If we get within twenty miles of the place we’ll find it. No problem.”
“What’s it like?” she asked. “The city, I mean.”
“Strange. It almost seems like two different cities right on top of one another. On the one hand it feels truly ancient, as if it were already standing there when the first men wandered out of far west, as the legends say. Some of the grand stone buildings look so old and natural that they might have been shaped along with the land itself. But on the other hand a lot of the city feels as if it were just thrown together within the last few years. It feels like a frontier town: a wild, rough place…”
He stopped suddenly and fell silent for a moment, as if troubled. Alirah waited expectantly, then noticed his eyes flicker toward her, almost furtively.
“What it is it?”
“I’m thinking… When we get there, I don’t think you should wear your sword.”
“What? Why not?” Her hand flew unconsciously to the weapon’s hilt.
“You don’t often see girls wear
ing swords,” he said. “It’ll attract attention.”
“What’s wrong with attracting attention?”
“It’ll attract the wrong sort of attention,” he said gravely, giving emphasis to the words.
“What’s the wrong sort of attention?” She asked, glaring at him and pitching her voice lower in imitation of his.
Blushing, he started once or twice to stammer a reply, then realized she playing with him. He scowled.
“I’m serious, Alirah.”
“So am I, Kelorn. Look, if you’re trying to tell me I shouldn’t wear my sword just because some people, boys I’m sure, won’t think it’s appropriate, you can save your breath. My father gave it to me and I’m proud that he did. And you just finished telling me that Rusukhor seemed like a rough place. Why in the world would I rather walk around there unarmed?”
Kelorn shook his head vigorously in frustration. “You’ll be no safer wearing that sword. All you’ll do is attract the attention of men like our friends from the other night: warriors who’ll either think you’re ridiculous or that you’re just being cute…”
“I’m not being cute!” cried Alirah.
“I said they’d think you were! Anyway it’s dangerous to carry around a weapon if you aren’t prepared to use…”
“I’ve told you I know how use it!”
“That’s not what I mean!”
Both of their voices had risen almost to shouts. Abruptly Kelorn blinked, as though startled by his own volume, and shut his mouth. For a minute they rode on in taut silence. Finally the young Druid shook his head with a low growl of frustration.
“Fine! Wear the thing. Just promise me you won’t go starting any fights.”
Alirah rolled her eyes. “Of course I won’t! I already promised my dad the same thing! What it is with you all? Do I look like I want to run around hacking people into bits?”
Kelorn hesitated a moment, then gave an involuntary snort of laughter.
“Sometimes.”
For a few seconds she scowled at him. Then at length her own anger evaporated, and she grinned wryly.
The next night as they rode onward the land began to rise in a long, unbroken slope, toward a high ridgeline. Stunted pines grew scattered upon the rising land. All of the trees were bent southwards as though constantly buffeted by winds from the north, and even then a stiff, cold breeze blew against Alirah and Kelorn as they rode.
Whether because he was anxious to reach the summit or because after four quiet days he no longer feared the Taragi, Kelorn did not call a halt when dawn began to bloom in the east. He just kept riding at a slow, shuffling walk. By then Alirah sat more than half asleep in her saddle. Thus it was only dimly, through a confused but sunny dream, that she heard him call out to her a little while later.
“Alirah?... Wake up, Alirah…”
He had to repeat himself twice before his voice reached her. Then she snapped awake with a startled little cry.
“What?” She asked, blinking furiously. “What happened? Is it time to stop yet?”
He smiled and gestured out ahead. “Take a look.”
Groggily she looked out where he pointed. Then her eyes flew wide and she gasped in astonishment.
They had come to a halt at the summit of the high ridge. Its bare, grassy crest stretched away for miles on either side. In both directions the ridge curved away northwards, as if she and Kelorn stood upon the southern rim of a vast crater which eons of wind and rain had partially worn away. Just ahead, the land dropped hundreds of feet in a near cliff, to which scattered clumps of grass and a few weathered rocks clung like detritus in a falling flood. Beyond the cliff the land lay as flat as a tabletop for many miles. Only to the north and east did it rise again in a rumpled line of hills, which climbed slowly over many miles into snow-capped peaks gleaming at the edge of sight.
At the base of the cliff, tall grasses waved in the wind. Alirah could see the tiny black figures of cattle grazing in herds. The sound of their lowing reached her ears ever so faintly. Farther away she saw an irregular quilt of tilled fields. Wheat, corn, and other crops which she did not recognize grew upon plots of all sizes. A broad road ran from west to east across the whole flat expanse of the valley. Colorful specks moved upon it here and there. By squinting at them, she could just tell that they were travelers with painted carts and covered wagons.
But neither the cliff nor the fields nor the road captured her attention. Her eyes were drawn steadily towards the center of the great, circular valley, where a cluster of low but rugged hills thrust up suddenly out of the flat earth. These hills formed a rough ring, as if in imitation of the surrounding crater. Within the ring Alirah saw a small, deep lake shining like a sapphire under the morning sun.
All about the lake and the hills around it stood the city of Rusukhor. It was the first city Alirah had ever seen, and it was one of the more impressive ones to be found upon the face of Irium. At that distance she could see little, however. Massive stone buildings looked like minute pebbles, and innumerable smaller structures of mud-brick looked like mere pinpoints that her eyes could not quite resolve next to the glitter of the lake.
“Rusukhor, the Free City of the West, on the shores of Lake Shireen,” said Kelorn. “I told you it’d be easy to find.”
“Are we going there today?” asked Alirah. Thoughts of exploring the city, of all she might see there and all the people she might meet, filled her with excitement. But the thought of staying awake long enough to get there filled her with dread.
“We’ll get there this evening if we can,” said Kelorn. “But we need to rest for a while first, and then we’ll be hard pressed to go so far before nightfall. Luckily nightfall is starting to be pretty late.”
They rode a short distance back down the slope they’d just climbed to a place where a few stunted pine trees grew. Together with a shallow depression in the earth the little trees offered some token of shelter, though they would be easily visible to anyone riding up from the south. In that direction the land now fell away in a rolling carpet of pale greens and yellows. As she lay down, Alirah wondered vaguely how far the Kwi’Kiri had traveled by then, and if they were still on the same side of the far-off horizon as she was. Then her eyelids closed on their own and she fell fast asleep.
When Kelorn woke her that afternoon she felt very strange. The sun had not yet fallen very far in the west, yet she could not stop yawning and rubbing her eyes just as she would have done a week before if she’d been awakened in the middle of the night.
Blinking constantly against the sunlight, she followed Kelorn back to the top of the ridge and then down into the valley beyond it. They descended in switchbacks which cut back and forth across the steep slope. It took them nearly two breathless hours to reach the valley floor, but once there they were able to ride quickly across the flat ground. By the time the sun hovered just above the western horizon, they had reached the farmlands which surrounded Rusukhor.
A fair number of people were still out in the fields, though by then most were walking back towards their scattered, mud-brick homes. Almost all of them stood up from their labor or paused in their walk to stare at Alirah and Kelorn as they rode by. Most gazed at them with simple curiosity, but some stared with suspicion or outright hostility. For a few minutes as they approached the walls of the city Alirah felt distinctly uncomfortable. Then two little children, a boy and a girl just a few years old, rushed up to the side of the road. They smiled and waved excitedly before their young mother caught up and shooed them away. Alirah waved and smiled back, and her feeling of distress subsided.
The bulk of the city of Rusukhor rose around the now-unseen lake, and along the banks of several ravines which the lake’s outflows had carved over the eons. The high, steep hills between these ravines formed the bulwarks of an immense wall that surrounded the city. This wall stood both high and broad, and looked as much like a natural formation of the landsca
pe as anything built by human hands. Even the city gates, which stood at the mouth of the widest ravine, had been fashioned from stone rather than metal or wood. They looked like two thick slabs of living rock that had been opened outward at a sorcerer’s command.
Alirah and Kelorn approached the gates just as the last daylight was fading from the sky. At that moment sentries were passing each other atop the outer wall; the guard was being changed. Additional guards flanked the gates. All of the soldiers were garbed in armor fashioned from innumerable metal plates sewn onto a black backing. Black veils hid all of their faces except their eyes. They bore round shields and short spears whose blades glittered frostily even in the dusk.
Despite the late hour a fair number of people were still passing in and out of the city. The guards scrutinized everyone, but paid most of their attention to the folk with wagons or carts of goods. Alirah and Kelorn with their swords got several long, keen stares, but they were allowed to pass through unchallenged.
When Alirah saw the guards’ faces close up she could not suppress a gasp of astonishment. Some of them had the dark eyes and bronze-brown complexions she’d seen upon the farmers farther out, but she also saw eyes of amber, emerald, or amethyst staring up at her from faces that were even more fair than Kelorn’s. Two of these pale guards heard her gasp and looked at her sharply. She blushed, lowered her gaze, and rode quickly after Kelorn.
Beyond the gates they rode through a short tunnel that bored through the great foundations of the outer wall. Emerging from the tunnel they found themselves in a wide square. A broad street of packed earth stretched away to the right and left, curving around the perimeter of the city. Straight ahead a narrower paved street ran up the ravine alongside a small, noisy stream. The water sparkled under the glow of lamps which rose upon slender columns. Alirah marveled at the lamps, for they burned in hues of silver and bronze, and they shone more intensely than any flame of wood or oil.
“Elf lamps,” said Kelorn, smiling at her open-mouthed stare.
“Elf lamps? Those guards, are they…?”
“Elves? Yes. They live here alongside a human people who call themselves the Dua. Come on, we’re going this way.”
To Alirah’s disappointment Kelorn turned aside and led them north along the outer ring-street. Far up along the ravine she had glimpsed grand, arched buildings of gray and brown stone that seemed to have been half built and half carved out of the living rock of the hills. Narrower paths ran along the slopes of the hills to elegant stone dwellings that perched upon little terraces. But almost all of the buildings along the ring-street were more ordinary structures of wood or mud-brick. Many of them in fact looked rather shoddy and ramshackle, as if they had been thrown together in haste. Very few elf lamps shone upon the outer street; most of the light came from ordinary braziers and oil lamps.
Despite the late hour a great press of people still strode along the street in both directions. As she rode along, Alirah was certain that she beheld more people at one time than ever before in her life. She felt both excited and alarmed, and found herself looking quickly here and there like a small, nervous bird, trying and failing to see everything that was happening. For a few minutes she was too awed and excited to speak. Then she composed herself and urged Tryll forward so that she could talk to Kelorn again.
“So the guards, the pale ones; they’re really elves?”
“Yeah.”
“But… But I didn’t think elves had cities. I mean, in the stories I’ve heard they’re always just out in the woods or on the grasslands somewhere, or else in the deep desert like the ones my mom and dad met.”
“Well, I don’t know much about elves, but they aren’t all nomads in the wilderness. There’s different kinds of elves just like there’s different kinds of humans. But the Free City, Rusukhor, is the only place I’ve heard of where they live alongside us.”
“Why is it called the Free City? What does that mean?”
“It’s just a nickname. People call it that because the city is supposed to have stood here forever without ever being conquered, or being part of a larger realm. In Arandia the stories say the elves here are great miners and artisans. They founded Rusukhor ages ago because of the jewels that they found beneath these hills. But now for many centuries they’ve lived alongside the Dua, who are great travelers and traders. The two races use their talents to benefit each other.”
“Is that why the elves are so pale, then? Because they’re underground mining all the time?”
Kelorn shrugged. “It would make sense. But I don’t think those same kind of rules apply to the Children of Faery the way they do to the Children of the Earth.”
“What do you mean Children…” Alirah began, then stopped herself as he grinned again. His smile was kind, but she knew suddenly that she must sound just like a schoolgirl bursting with questions. She turned away at once, hiding a grimace.
“Never mind.”
They rode again in silence. As night fell completely the crowds began to diminish somewhat, but the ring-street remained far from empty. Parked wagons and stalls lined both sides of the street. From some, peddlers had hawked all kinds of wares during the day. Now most of those were closed up, but many others had just opened to offer food and drink during the night. Knots of people, mostly natives of Rusukhor but with many other lands represented, stood or sat about them eating and drinking contentedly. From each stall strange but wonderful scents arose to fill Alirah’s nostrils, and she caught snippets of conversation in several languages aside from the common tongue.
Trying to see, smell, and hear everything at once, Alirah slowly fell behind Kelorn again. She longed to get to wherever it was they were going. She wanted to clean up, change her clothes, and go exploring. The young Druid only plodded on and on, however. The further they went into the city the more anxious he became. He gripped his reins with white-knuckled hands. Every time chance and traffic made them cross paths with other people, he kept his head down and swerved meekly out of the way.
He’s doing what he did before, Alirah realized, suddenly. When he first came here. He didn’t dare to talk to anyone so he just kept riding on and on until either he just couldn’t go any further, or else he got lucky somehow. Now he’s going back to wherever he ended up before, just because it’s familiar. She felt a sharp pang of sympathy. At once she spurred Tryll and rode up alongside him again.
“I could talk to people, you know,” she said brightly. “I can find us a place to stay and get some food.”
“No, that’s alright…” he began, blushing.
“Really, I don’t mind,” said Alirah. She cast about for someone to ask. At that moment they were riding past a row of low, mud-brick huts that could have been either shops or homes. An old, lean man crouched beside the door of one little building. He stared intently ahead of him, seemingly at nothing, while he munched a bit of meat rolled up in spongy flatbread.
“Excuse me,” said Alirah, smiling at him. “Do you know where there’s an inn? Someplace travelers can get food and a place to stay?”
At the sound of her cheerful, feminine voice the man stopped mid chew. He stared up at her with an amazed but uncomprehending expression on his face.
“Do you understand me?” Alirah asked. She kept smiling brightly even though she was pretty sure the answer was no.
“No, no,” said Kelorn quickly, his blush deepening. “I know where I’m going. We’re just about there. Come on.”
He spurred Melyr into a trot for a few quick steps to leave the old man behind. Alirah followed him, feeling frustrated. But just a few minutes later she found that he was telling the truth. The street, which she had supposed ran all the way around the hills of Rusukhor, came abruptly to an end against a particularly high, rugged shoulder of rock which swept down from the heights above. In the crook where this natural wall met the outer wall of the city, stood a large, squarish structure. It looked more like
a fortress than an ordinary building. Its walls of hewn stone rose two stories and were crowned with parapets. A spacious courtyard lay inside, visible through wide gates that were flung open.
Two men stood on guard beside the open doorway. Their skin was a deep, sun-baked brown. Red turbans concealed their hair and heavy scimitars hung from red sashes at their sides. Kelorn rode straight toward them and the gate without slowing, but Alirah’s eyes flew wide and she reined in Tryll in alarm. She’d never seen men like those guards before, but she knew them at once from her mother’s description.
Kelorn noticed her sudden hesitation and turned back to face her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“They’re Jeddein,” she said.
“So what? This is where I stayed before.”
“So? So they kidnapped my mother,” she said flatly. “They tried to kidnap my father, for that matter. I’m not going in there.”
Kelorn looked back and forth between her and the guardsmen, both of whom were youngish men.
“They can’t have kidnapped your mother. They would have been little kids at most when your mother and Prince Ethyrin ran away together. Let alone before that.”
“Well of course I don’t mean those two, themselves!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“They’re a bad people. They’re slave traders! I don’t want anything to do with them.”
Kelorn shook his head. “There’s no such thing as a bad people. And there are no slaves in Rusukhor, so far as I can tell. Even if there are, I’m sure Surim wouldn’t own any. He’s a good man or I’ve never met one. We’ll be safe here, I promise.”
Still Alirah hesitated. She knew she was being foolish, but she’d heard Nuara’s story too many times. She’d spent too many nights as a little girl gazing at the old tattoo on her mother’s hand and wondering what it would be like to be pricked with a needle over and over again; wondering what it would be like to be taken and sold. Kelorn gazed at her for a long moment, then spoke again, gently.
“Come on. Let’s go in and get some food.”
She shut her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded.
“Okay.”
They rode up to the gate and dismounted. Alirah looked anxiously at the Jeddein guards, then at the ground. Kelorn said a few halting words to them in the Jeddeinin language. The lead guard looked them over briefly, then shrugged and motioned for them to pass through.
Inside the gate Alirah found herself in an arcaded courtyard. Most of the first floor of the building had been left open to the air in the form of stalls. Each stall was set off from the next by graceful, arching columns which supported the second floor. A tiled roof ran around the perimeter of the courtyard, sheltering the stalls like an inside-out verandah. Many of the stalls were empty, but a good number were filled with carts and wagons, tethered horses and mules, and piles of packaged goods. A handful of sun burnt, weather-beaten men sat alone or in small knots before some of the occupied stalls, smoking and drinking from earthenware cups.
At first Alirah was afraid Kelorn meant to just camp in one of the unoccupied stalls. She did not relish the thought of sleeping in the open alongside so many unfamiliar men. But Kelorn lead them toward the southeast corner of the courtyard. There a portion of the building’s first floor was enclosed, though two big windows and a door were all flung open to let in the cool night air. Warm firelight streamed out of the windows along with the loud chatter of many voices and the music of a lute. The scents of spices, roasting meat, and red wine filled the air. Alirah’s stomach rumbled in longing.
A handful of grown boys loitered about the doorway. They’d been passing a wineskin back and forth, but they hid it at once as Kelorn approached. The youngest of them darted inside. The rest of them glanced briefly at Kelorn, then stared at Alirah with varying expressions of curiosity and interest. She stared right back at them.
A moment later the first boy reemerged from the building with an older Jeddein man trailing behind him. His clothes were simple and loose, woven of white linen, and immaculately clean. A white turban concealed his hair, but he wore a short, neat beard whose color had mostly changed from black to silver. He grinned broadly as he saw Kelorn and spread his arms in welcome.
“Ah, the boy Druid!” he cried, cheerily, in accented common. “You came back! And you found somebody after all. Though I must say if this is your lost king, he’s the youngest and prettiest king I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”
He smiled at Alirah and bowed courteously. His voice was a little gravelly, as if worn out from long use, but it sounded inherently kind. After one hearing Alirah found it hard to imagine that the man was ever angry or cold. Her first instinct was to like him, but her childhood fears were not so easily vanquished. She smiled half-heartedly at his compliment but could find nothing to say.
“Hello, Surim,” said Kelorn wearily. “Yeah I’m back.”
“And your king?”
“I did find him. But he belongs to his new people now; he would not come back. His young daughter, however, was all too willing. So allow me to introduce Alirah… the Princess Alirah, actually. I am escorting her back to Arandia so…”
“Escorting me?”
“What?” Kelorn turned toward her in confusion. “What would you call it?”
“I don’t know. We couldn’t just be going there together?”
Surim grinned. He bowed to Alirah once more, even more deeply than before.
“I welcome you to my establishment, your Highness. But perhaps you would be more comfortable elsewhere? I am afraid this is but a humble caravanserai, serving those who journey the long roads of Irium, for whom a proper bed and a bit of hot food are a luxury. I confess I have nothing to offer that is worthy of a princess.”
Alirah blushed and murmured uncomfortably. “Whatever you have will be wonderful.”
Surim nodded. “Very good. I will have your things brought to your rooms then. I assume you want two rooms, not one?”
“Yeah,” said Alirah.
“Definitely,” said Kelorn at the same instant.
They glanced at each other, then Kelorn added. “Adjoining each other, though.”
“Of course,” said Surim. “And I will have water drawn for baths. Those I’m sure you will want.”
He turned about and began barking orders in the Jeddeinin tongue to the youngsters who still lingered behind him. Most of them dispersed on various tasks, but two came forward to see to the horses. One of them began to lead Melyr away towards the stables of the caravanserai.
Alirah did not know what was happening. When another of the boys took hold of Tryll’s reins, she swatted his hand away roughly. The boy drew back, startled.
“What are you doing? What are they doing?” Alirah cried, alarmed, speaking first to the boy and then to Kelorn.
Kelorn looked alarmed himself. “They aren’t doing anything! What’s wrong with you?”
“What does he want with Tryll?”
Kelorn stared at her blankly for a moment, then slowly he grinned. Surim smiled as well. Alirah gazed at them wide-eyed until Kelorn spoke, slowly and gently.
“He’s going to see that she’s stabled properly. Then he’ll bring your stuff up to your room. In this place they look after their guests’ horses for them.”
“Oh…” said Alirah. Her blush deepened and she looked at the ground. “Then… that’s okay. I guess.”
The young man beside her hesitated another moment. Then with a glance at Surim, who nodded, he went about his business. Alirah remained staring at her feet in humiliation. She did not see Surim bow once more.
“This way, if you please,” said the old Jeddein.
Alirah followed him through the open doorway. Inside, she found herself in a large common room. In one corner a fire burned cheerily, though the night promised to be mild. A man sat beside the fire, strumming away on a lute. Most of the space
was filled with wooden tables and chairs of various sizes, all worn smooth with use and age. A wide, pinewood bar lined with stools served to separate off a busy kitchen. Almost every seat was occupied by the crowd of patrons. Most of these were men of varying ages, but there were a handful of women as well. Young Jeddein women in colorful, airy clothes and translucent veils darted about the room in the role of servers, carrying big, earthenware mugs of ale, flagons of wine, and trays of food.
Altogether a charged atmosphere of intermingled merriment and danger filled the room. Counting big, showy knives, more than half the crowd seemed to be armed in some fashion. Many of the men seemed to be laborers carousing after a long day’s work, but some were obviously soldiers or mercenaries of some sort. The warlike men were if anything more animated than the workers, as if they’d either just passed through a battle, or else knew they would have to face one tomorrow.
In spite of the obvious raucousness of the crowd, and her own weariness, Alirah would gladly have stayed in the common room for a while. She felt a thrill of excitement as she stepped inside. But Surim led them quickly across the room and up a flight of steps to the building’s second floor. Kelorn pressed close behind her, almost as if herding her forward. She had to walk quickly to avoid having her heels stepped on.
Climbing up the steps she found herself in a long hallway. A number of doors on either side opened upon small, plain rooms. Two of the rooms beside each other formed a suite; they both opened onto the main hallway but also shared a door on their adjoining wall. Just then Surim’s workers were carrying Alirah’s saddlebags and gear into one room, and Kelorn’s into the other.
“Will you be joining us in the common room this time, master Kelorn?” asked Surim with a grin. “My girls will be very disappointed if you just hide away in your room again. Though… perhaps they’ve already lost their chance?”
“No, no… Not tonight,” said Kelorn, blushing. “Just send up dinner when it’s ready. We’ll eat in our rooms.”
“Wait, what?” asked Alirah, surprised. “Can’t we eat downstairs? After a bath, of course.”
“No. That’s not a good idea.”
Kelorn’s reply came quick and sharp, as if he’d long anticipated the question. She looked up at him in confusion.
“Why isn’t it a good idea?”
Kelorn hesitated. After a moment Surim spoke, coloring slightly.
“Your Highness, though it pains me to say so, my common room is not a suitable place for a young lady, especially later on at night. My patrons risk their lives and their fortunes on the journeys they undertake. In between those journeys they don’t always behave themselves. Even on the best nights they have, shall we say, a limited understanding of etiquette and decorum.”
Alirah gazed at the old man for a moment, then at Kelorn. Both stood looking gravely down at her as though the lack of decorum among the patrons below should obviously be a matter of great concern. For a moment she felt and looked bewildered, then her eyes narrowed.
“Are you trying to tell me I’m not allowed to eat downstairs?”
“Of course, you may eat where you wish, your Highness, but…” began Surim.
“No,” Kelorn interrupted him. “Not tonight. Come on Alirah…”
“Come on what?” she retorted, angrily.
“I’m exhausted! I didn’t sleep much at all this morning and now I just want to eat and go to bed.”
“Well that’s fine,’ said Alirah. “Just go to bed then. That doesn’t mean I have to. I don’t need a chaperone. Anyway, he’s got young ladies serving the food and drink down there!”
Surim shook his head. “My girls know how to take care of themselves. They…”
“And I don’t?”
“No!” cried Kelorn. His face flushed red, and his eyes flashed. “No you don’t! You’re barely grown up and you’ve never been away from home before! You were scared to walk in here at first. You didn’t know what that stable boy was doing with Tryll. Do you really think you should go down there and hang out alone in a room full of men getting drunk?”
“But I don’t just want to hide in my room!” cried Alirah.
“I don’t care! I don’t want you wandering around down there like a… little… flower…”
His voice broke up at the very end, as though an instant too late he’d tried to stop himself from speaking, but the last word was clear. Alirah blinked, taken aback.
“Like a what?”
Kelorn looked away from her. His fury gave way to embarrassment, and he turned even more red. When at last he spoke again his voice was husky.
“Look, can’t you just do what I tell you for once? Your mother and father charged me with protecting you. I can’t do that if you won’t ever do what I say!”
“Oh fine!” Alirah cried. She rounded again upon Surim, who still stood there awkwardly, looking both embarrassed and highly amused.
“Dinner in my room, then. After a bath. And… and whatever else you were planning to bring up. Now leave me alone!”
She strode furiously into her little room and slammed the door behind her.