Kirith Kirin (The City Behind the Stars) (79 page)

We stopped for the night in the wreck of someone’s farmhouse, hiding the horses behind a pile of rubble that must have been a barn once. The house stood, though one wall had been smashed inward and the roof had collapsed into the rooms beneath. Inside, shards of pottery and dishes littered the hearth, and bits of wrecked furniture crowded the rooms. We used some of the furniture for kindling and lit a small fire in the fireplace. The chimney drew poorly but that hardly mattered since the smoke drifted out through gaping holes in the roof. Beyond the cloud glimmered the white moon. We drank cumbre for our supper, and ate a piece of stale bread from Imral’s saddlebag. The cumbre returned old memories, riding in Arthen among these same people, clear sunlight and golden leaves.

Sipping cumbre, I felt dull and blind and realized I no longer had any sense of seeing as I had once known it. We slept a peaceful night, though there were some horsemen on the road, and Kirith Kirin stirred to listen at times. I was aware of him, even when I was asleep.

In the morning we saddled those poor horses and rode. As Kirith Kirin had predicted, we found patrols on the road, maybe searching for us even this early. Karsten guided us northeast, over some sandy hills, where we followed a sparse trail visible to their eyes but not to mine. We kept up a fair pace though we moved more slowly than we would have on the road. All day I smelled the salty wind and the acrid edge of something else, smoke the day after a fire, but this was an older smell, and pervaded the air. Maybe it was the smell of those clouds overhead, I thought. After a century of shadow, maybe that’s what you get.

Riding all day, we camped in the hills, not wishing to approach any closer to the road. We drank more cumbre and ate some dried fish Imral had scavenged in Ivyssa; foul stuff, but I swallowed it. My belly was starting to cramp, now that I was awake and hungry. We tried no fire but sat in the sparse light of the white moon. We hardly talked, we were so tired from the ride, and soon unrolled our pallets and slept.

That day we came to the southern tip of the Onge Woodland, where the River Deluna flows out of the trees through the city of Novris and into Keikilla Bay. Two roads enter the city and we could see both; one brings trade east from Ivyssa and the other comes down from the north through many regions, through the Onge forest, and then into the city.

On the Ivyssa road two patrols were moving near the city, but on the northern road we saw no traffic at all. The Ivyssa road was being watched, but not the northern one. We descended out of the low hills into the edge of the forest, and Karsten found a trail there, one she had expected to find, which led us to a stone bridge across the Deluna and onto the road.

We traveled as quickly as those feeble horses could carry us, out of the Onge and within sight of the city walls. The road enters Novris over a bridge that is a marvel to see, spanning the river in two curves into the main gate of the city, which sits squarely over the river. The bridge was whole but the walls were breached in several places, and the gatehouse had been pulled down. One could see a battle had been fought here, but the memory of it was already old; young trees grew on the mounds of rubble that lay in the wall-breeches, and saplings and vine sprouted out of the bases of the walls. We merged with the thin traffic into the city and passed through the gates, leading our horses. The rags we wore blended with the rags of those we walked among in Novris, where the shape of people had not yet changed so much, and we slipped past the white-cloaked guards at the makeshift gate.

Inside, we passed through a wide plaza where many streets converged, and beyond that through a market where little or nothing was being sold, and into narrow streets that twisted this way and that, finally arriving at a hostel within sight of what was left of the eastern wall. Karsten secured us a room and Imral led the horses to their stalls. Kirith Kirin and I waited in the street, listening to the echo of thin voices, the barking of a few dogs. What should have been a busy city showed scarce signs of life.

Karsten rented us a room facing an inner courtyard, dark and cramped, with a narrow casement window that opened inward and a couple of beds made of packed straw. I sat on one of these and waited. I had asked no questions, but presumed that we were to be met here by someone. Imral returned from stabling the horses, bringing the saddlebags, and we ate another meager meal of dried meat and bread crusts. He had bought a skin of bad wine and poured the stuff into the two cups we all shared. I sipped it, thinking how long it had been; thinking also, now I was one hundred sixteen years old, or nearly, and could drink as I pleased.

“We’re early,” Karsten noted. “We made better time than we planned.”

Imral hovered near the door. “The city’s full of troops, and more arriving all the time.”

“You think they’re looking for us?” Her question went unanswered.

Kirith Kirin sat beside me on the narrow bed. He stroked my hair and felt my forehead again. “You should rest. We’ll be leaving tonight.”

I lay along the straw, curled at his back. If I closed my eyes I would soon drift away. It was as if all my humanity had come back to me, and none of the strangeness had lingered. “Who’s meeting us?” I asked.

He lay his finger to his lips. “You’ll see.”

Drowsiness enfolded me, I don’t know how long. When I woke, only Karsten and I remained in the room, and someone was pounding at the door. Soldiers burst inside as I sat up, a grizzled woman barking at Karsten in an accent I could hardly understand. I stood from the bed and she saw me, her eyes narrowing.

Karsten lunged for me, but too late. Hands grasped me and led me into the courtyard, where they held me while runners hurried off. I waited, hardly breathing, with Karsten pinned against the wall by three of the soldiers. I signaled her with my eyes that she should not struggle, and she played the part, another ragged peasant mother afraid for what might happen to her son. After some time, a woman rode into the courtyard astride a healthy horse. Beyond, other soldiers had completed the search of the hostel, and waited. The commander put herself forward and said something. But the woman on horseback had eyes only for me.

My scalp prickled when I saw her. She had power, this one, and eyed me up and down. She was reaching toward me, her lips moving, muttering Ildaruen. I was what she wanted, and for a moment she knew it. A gleam of triumph consumed her features, and she gestured that I be brought forward. I took a deep breath.

I looked into her eyes. I am not who you think, I told her, all in silence; I am not the one you want; a simple thought. I gazed at her evenly, and breathed; and suddenly her expression became downcast and she gazed sourly at the commander. “This urchin?” she spat. “You think this is the one?”

“He’s the right age, my lady, and he fits the description,” the soldier stammered, but when I turned to look at her, she filled with sudden doubts, as though she were seeing me for the first time.

“Look at this wretch,” the mounted woman shrieked, kicking my shoulder with her stirrup. I ducked from the kick and took even breaths. “A pup not even fit for labor camps. He hasn’t eaten in a month, look at these bones.” She poked my side with her staff and spat at me. “I haven’t ridden two days from Ivyssa to find a starveling country bastard.” She gestured that I be taken away. Someone grabbed my shoulders hurled me toward Karsten, who caught me and pulled me close. We huddled in the door to our room. The mounted woman drew up tall in the saddle. “So if that’s the best you can find, we’re done here, I suppose.”

The commander nodded, downcast. The witch wheeled her horse and rode through the low gate, ducking her head. They headed elsewhere, and we watched as the last of their party filed out. Karsten whispered, “That was neatly done.”

I had felt no power, no Wyyvisar moving through me. Something had changed.

We closed the door, with the bolt now burst loose, and waited. Karsten stayed close to the greasy window, looking out, till nearly dark. Then she gestured for me to come and we took up our packs, hurried into the street. I had no idea our journey was beginning at that moment, but we never returned to the hostel, and what became of the horses I don’t know. I imagine, in a city as hungry as that one, someone ate them.

She led us toward the waterfront, I could smell the salt in the air. Kirith Kirin and Imral Ynuuvil met us at the dock and we hurried below, into a boat. We cast off from the dock and Karsten and Kirith Kirin rowed us, dipped their slim oars silently into the black water. They picked their way among the moored boats, the hulls of the few merchantmen still in service. They rowed along the quay that leads from the city harbor into the open water of the bay, all calm, hardly a breeze stirring. Only there did anybody speak, and even then in whispers. “We were visited,” Karsten said, and I could feel the attention of the others.

“When?”

“This afternoon. Hours ago.”

Imral cursed quietly and Kirith Kirin asked, “Who? How many?”

“Thirty soldiers, by my count. They searched the hostel room by room.”

“And?”

She sighed. “They found us. They knew Jessex and it was clear they were searching for him. They took him to wait in the courtyard and sent for the new one, Cormes. She showed up and took one look at him and suddenly lost interest and took the troops away, to continue their search, I suppose.”

The name was familiar to me, but I could not place it. Was she someone still alive, from my time? “You’re sure it was Cormes?” Imral asked. “You got a good look at her?”

“Oh yes. It wasn’t hard to guess he would send her. She was stationed in Ivyssa, we already knew that.”

“She lost interest,” Kirith Kirin muttered, and I could feel him watching me. “I suppose I know what that means.”

“She wasn’t very skilled,” I said. “But if Drudaen questions her, if he examines her, he’ll know it was me.”

He blew out breath, but said, “All right. He knew we were here anyway. He knows you’re out of Aerfax, if he’s looking this hard. So no harm done, as long as he doesn’t find us.”

He won’t, I thought. But I said nothing.

We rowed down the coast, taking turns at the oars. With the white moon in crescent we had light; near midnight we headed for the coast again. Imral and Karsten, who were rowing, drove the boat through the gentle surf, and as we waded through shallow water to the beach, a cloaked figure stepped toward us, beckoning. I hardly glimpsed the outline of the person beneath the cloak, but I sensed it was a woman, and she led us through low dunes and sea grass, a hard passage with the sand always shifting underfoot. The smell brought back my memory of Kleeiom, those last days before I slept, walking with Kirith Kirin along the water’s edge.

Another woman awaited us beyond the dunes, with fresh horses. One of these I knew by smell. He recognized me too, though he had the good sense not to whinny. I buried my face in Nixva’s mane, turned to find Kirith Kirin grinning. “He’s waited a long time for this,” Kirith Kirin whispered, and we all mounted, all those familiar horses tossing their heads, Artefax and Kaufax, the Keikin, two other royal horses for the women who were our guides. Walking the horses through the sand, we presently came to a trail and followed it, and rode along the vestige of a trail, passing the dark shape of a house behind solid walls. We rode, and I was on Nixva’s back again, and leaned over him and nearly whispered Words to him, but caught myself at the last moment.

Now we were six, and well mounted, and I had a feeling of safety from their presences, even without knowing who the guides were. We made good progress along that road, which ran, as I guessed, through Amre country, east of the city. We were headed toward the Onge forest, but not traveling along the main road.

We stopped for shelter in a round-house, abandoned but mostly intact. We lit no fire but contented ourselves with cumbre and some good cheese one of the women had brought. Spreading pallets on the cleanest patch of floor we could find, we slept a while, and rose before dawn, and saddled and mounted the horses.

I have traced our route since, and know we rode far to the east of Novris, hugging the Amre foothills in the shadows of the Barrier Mountains. Riding from the dusk of early morning into the thin light of day, we streamed over the countryside on those good horses, stopping for water at a clear stream that flowed down through the hills, eating more cheese and bread and riding on. By daylight I studied the two women who had become our companions, one dark-haired, the other with hair the color of fire; they were dressed in the same rags as we were, with tattered cloaks and worn boots, and I fancied them guides hired for the journey, or else soldiers in Kirith Kirin’s service. They sat their horses with the skill of Woodland folk. I was suspicious, and could easily have known the truth then, if I had wanted. We rode, all of us, till late in the day we entered the Onge forest.