In the Earth Abides the Flame (45 page)

Just like the dassie. Killed by an uncaring hand. And though Leith's mind tried to tell him it was just a coincidence, that this was a harsh land and death a constant threat, something deeper within him than mere reason laid the blame squarely on the voice in his head. But there was something else, something that worried at Leith until it crystallised just as the sun went down. Did Hal's shake of his head signify an inability to do anything, an impotence to heal, or did the struggle etched on his brother's face represent a refusal to intervene, tested by the man's screams? Was this another of those moments where Hal's 'kindness' wore the clothes of cruelty?

They laid the unfortunate Escaignian to rest on a slab of hard volcanic rock and covered him with stones. The Arkhimm did not take the risk of wandering around this dangerous place in order to find soft ground for a proper burial. One deadly encounter with this valley was more than enough.

'Oh, Ceau!' cried the remaining Escaignian. 'You should have stayed in Escaigne. You should have stayed where you were safe!'

'Escaigne is no longer a safe place,' Phemanderac observed quietly. 'Faltha is no longer a safe place.'

Fine words were said over the body and tears were shed, but afterwards Leith could recall neither the words themselves nor who spoke them. They had given his grey-bleak heart no cheer in this desolation of spirit.

Not until many days later was Leith coherent enough to realise that by naming Ceau her companion, Illyon the Escaignian had given them her name.

The next day witnessed a discovery that under different circumstances could have brought great joy to the hearts of the Arkhimm, In the middle of the morning, an hour before they needed to seek shelter from the hottest part of the day, they rounded a bend in the game trail and came across a small arm of the lake, perhaps a mile across. At first this served only to dismay them further, for now they would be forced to find a way around it amongst broken rock and boiling springs. Is there nothing in this valley that is not dangerous? thought Leith bitterly. Then one of them - Kurr, Leith later recalled - noticed movement on a tiny island, perhaps a hundred yards across, on the near side of the inlet.

On the island were many thousands of birds. They were the largest winged animals they had seen in the valley. At first all Leith could see was a riotous confusion of pink, but gradually he began to pick out individuals. These birds were quite unlike anything he had ever seen, or heard of. Six feet from the tip of their long, bulbous bills to the three toes on their webbed feet, gawkily thin, with ridiculous long necks and legs so narrow they seemed in perilous danger of snapping in two. Their soft pink bodies, set midway between the extremities, were enfolded by cerise, almost vermilion wings, tipped in black. In happier times Leith would have laughed at these awkward, almost preposterous birds.

But then he saw one of the birds in flight, and in an instant laughter was replaced by awe. For in the air this ridiculous fowl became an elegant avian, more graceful than a swan, flying straight as an arrow. And it was of an arrow that these birds reminded him, somehow.

In spite of their need to hurry, the Arkhimm slowed, and on occasion stopped completely, to observe these fantastic birds in action. Leith noticed a group acting strangely, launching themselves into the air with a series of ungainly steps, then flying close to the far cliffs and swooping to the left and to the right, as though trapped between invisible walls. Suddenly one of the great birds soared up above the others without any apparent effort; and as the Arkhimm gazed on in wonderment it rose higher and higher without even moving its wings. One by one the other birds found this hidden current of air, and each ascended the cliff face as though drawn up by a piece of string. Now the first disappeared over the top of the cliff, followed by the others.

By now the trail drew closer to the island, and they were no more than a hundred yards from the bird colony, close enough to see that the birds were nesting. Underneath the seething pink mass, small, grey-feathered chicks sought food and shelter, receiving both from their huge parents. Then something gave the sentry-birds fright, and panic flashed through the colony.

Within a moment ten thousand birds erupted into the air like a river of flame shooting into the deep blue sky; the deepest fire of all in the Valley of a Thousand Fires.

Of them all, Phemanderac was the most affected. As the birds wheeled overhead, satisfying themselves there was no danger, he sank to his knees, heedless of the dangerous path, and in a whisper said 'Mariswan,' as though the word had a deep inner meaning for him.

It had been a majestic sight, no doubting that. But Leith would have exchanged it for another day of Bright-eyes' company, for the erasure of the man's screams, for the easing of the creeping guilt that threatened to inure him to whatever beauty and joy the stone-faced Most High decided to taunt them with.

Two interminable days later the Valley of a Thousand Fires came to an abrupt end. Ahead rose slope after slope, up to great clouded tops, from which small streams trickled tentatively into the merciless depression. Leith let out a vast sigh, relieved to be setting his foot to the upward path, away from the valley. The last few days had drained him of whatever self-belief he had picked up in Instruere, leaving him feeling small, young and vulnerable. Head down, he had eyes only for the trail ahead, and the Arkhimm's booted feet. As the group began to climb out of the valley of their torment, Leith dropped a little way behind the others.

In response to an uncomfortable feeling between his shoulder-blades - the kind one gets when one is being watched by an enemy — he turned to look one last time down into the troubled cauldron below. At that moment a gust of wind parted the steam around them and Leith found himself face to face with a fearsome stranger.

His features were that of a vulture. Deep-set eyes, a hooked nose and a long, straggling grey beard framed by a cowled white robe that covered him from head to foot. On his crimson belt were strange designs, unpleasant to the eye; two curved swords hung from it. In his gnarled hand he held a staff.

Such details were gained in but a moment. There was no time to alert the remainder of the Arkhimm, who no doubt continued their progress up the path. No words were exchanged between Leith and the apparition, yet he knew this was a warrior of the Khersos, the Deep Desert, that Prince Wiusago had told them about the previous evening around a cold campsite.

The old stories were apparently true, as all the old stories seemed to be turning out to be. The man raised his face to Leith's, complete rejection engraved upon it; then extended the staff towards him and began to scream harsh, high-pitched words in his own tongue. The Arkhimm, who had drifted back down the path to check on Leith, stopped in their tracks at the sound. They were all aware this was a curse from the heart of the desert, laid on strangers fortunate enough to survive its perils. With this came the realisation that undoubtedly they had been shadowed since their descent from the land of the Mist by a figure (or figures, more likely) wishing their departure from the valley and waiting to observe them die or leave. Such malice worked in the voice and fumed across the face that Leith could not endure it, having instead to turn his head. Phemanderac alone remained impassive, observing the display of unprovoked aggression until, with a contempt borne of a fundamental belief in his superiority, the white-robed man spat on the ground at their feet and turned away.

On reflection Leith realised there was a great evil in what the man had done. Yes, they were interlopers, trespassers on his land; and by the very nature of the environment, the desert dwellers would be unused to such transgression. The white-robed warrior was cursing difference, was railing against the very existence of people other than his kind, of places other than his own. Leith's last thought before he dismissed the incident from his mind (only one and not the most serious of those they encountered in the valley) was to reassure himself of the Tightness of their cause against the Bhrudwans.

TURMOIL AND CONFUSION GRIPPED the Great City as the remnants of the Company drew near the walls. Floodwaters swept through Instruere in a few chaotic minutes and, while the battlements kept out the vast wall of water, confining it to the river channels north and south of the city, inevitably some of the muddy, froth-capped sludge surged through the sewers and drains of the town, filling basements and overflowing on to streets. The water sent housewives scurrying for buckets and mops, the menfolk for sandbags, the unoccupied for the battlements. The Guard were called away to deal with the flooding of the longhouse. The rumour flashing around the city suggested water had gotten into The Pinion ('and a good thing too,' went the gossip. 'Needs a good cleaning out'). There appeared to have been some disturbance over in the Docks, occupying the remaining guards, so those Instruians milling about on the walls and congregating by the gates were left largely unsupervised.

It was as though the guard just melted away. At first Indrett thought the byways of the Docks cleared of guardsmen because the Bhrudwan had put them to flight. However, as they came closer to the walls and the Dock Gate, she could see a general calamity. Individuals and families ran in either direction through the gate, and many of them were wet to the skin. The river, she thought; the river flooded. That was the water down by the docks. She imagined what would have happened if they had not escaped the Water Chamber, and swallowed convulsively, managing to keep down the bile that had risen to choke her.

'Now's our chance,' cried Farr. 'Let's go, before the guards come back!' He seemed about to break into a run.

Mahnum pulled him by the arm. 'Not so hasty! It would be better if we simply walked in, slow but purposeful. Let's not attract attention to ourselves.'

Farr scowled, but accepted the advice.

'Once we're in, where do we hide?' Perdu asked.

'Let's get in first,' Stella said, somewhat nervously. There were still one or two guards about, though their attention seemed drawn elsewhere. 'We might find somewhere to hide in the confusion.'

'But what about Leith?' Indrett asked, anxiety lacing her voice. 'What about the others?'

'You want to go back?' Farr pointed behind them, back to the Docks, where the guards still swarmed. 'He's probably safer than we are. I don't think they're going to like what the Bhrudwan did to them, when they get time enough to think about it.'

The Company walked under the arched gateway, taking care to mingle with the steady stream of people making their way from the Docks to the city. Involuntarily, Stella held her breath as she passed though the gate. After the series of reversals the Company had suffered since they entered this place, it was easy to imagine recapture. Yet, for all that, the young Loulean woman rejoiced as they found familiar streets. The newness, the noise and clutter, the grandeur, the excitement all contributed to her feeling of freedom. She thought of Leith and the way he had changed since they came to Instruere: who would have thought that such a quiet boy had so much depth! And his deeds in The Pinion. He's already a hero. Loulea really was a bad place. He's more mature now. He probably loves the city as much as 1 do. For the first time she regretted the things she had heard, and said, about Leith. They don't know him like I do. 1 didn't know him like 1 do now. I hope he's all right.

Walking about in the city, the Company observed how little real damage had been done by the flood. Here and there pools of water lay, but in general a few people did the work, while the majority stood in groups talking about it. The sudden flood was but the latest, and by no means the most momentous, of a series of strange happenings over which the populace chewed. The raid on The Pinion and the tweaking of the guards' collective nose by the impudent northerners, the unmasking and subsequent escape of Escaigne, and the sudden disappearance of the city's real power, the Arkhos of Nemohaim; all signalled their city was undergoing some momentous change. As for the disappearance of the hated Arkhos, it was more than a rumour according to the most reliable sources, and the city was apparently in new hands. Whose, no one could be sure. Perhaps the Council had not yet appointed a new head.

Perhaps the Council itself had been replaced! Just by lingering near knots of people talking intently the Company learned many things of importance to them.

It took them about half an hour to get to the market. There stood the usual stands, refreshing in their familiarity, although as yet most were closed, stallholders and customers no doubt off dealing with the aftermath of the flood. And there stood something else, someone else who brought cheer and gladness to the hearts of the Company.

'Foilzie!'

Oblivious of the single guard in the open square, who seemed more concerned with a fight between a couple of ruffians than checking the faces that drifted past, the Company ran over to the old woman standing in the shadows. Stella and Indrett found her glad embrace, and men and women alike shared a few tears.

'How is your Escaignian friend? Is he all right?' Perdu asked.

'You'll see him in a bit,' Foilzie replied. Tt'd be best if we took ourselves away from here, my dears. Soldiers asked questions earlier this morning, and we've had our fill of them. This way!'

They ducked down a narrow alley between tall tenements, heading in the general direction of Foilzie's house. There a grim surprise awaited the Company, who had not witnessed the burning. The old woman relayed to them the shocking story, as told to her by others in her street who had seen something of the Arkhos's rage.

'Who did this?' In spite of the story he had just heard, Fan-could not believe it. The ruins smouldered still; the three-floored building now half its former height, blackened posts draped with burned boards, surrounded by charred rubble. This is where they had slept, eaten and shared their hopes for the last two months.

'The Instruian Guard burned it down. The Arkhos of Nemohaim ordered it. They were looking for you.'