The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (30 page)

He heard Rothers squeak in surprise and the two children whimper in fear. Then he let his power fade until only the lanterns around the idol remained alight. Shadows of writhing sand crawlers reflected around them and the baleful ruby eyes glowered with evil intent but Jonderill didn’t care anymore. The light in his mind burned brightly and he slept in the protection of the Goddess.

*

Tozaman knelt by Nyte’s side, eased his arm behind her shoulder and lifted her enough so that her head and back leaned comfortably against him whilst the rest of her lay across the rug on the floor. He reached out with his free hand, picked up the mug of watered wine and held it carefully to her lips. This was his third attempt to get the girl to drink and whilst all he had managed on the other two occasions was to moisten her lips and dribble a little of the liquid down her throat, this time she responded. Her lips moved as if she was remembering how to drink and her tongue licked the moisture from her lips. Behind her eyelids her eyes moved like a dreamer’s just before they woke. After two days of caring for her he was relieved that she was at last showing signs of returning to consciousness.

He and Oraman had carried her out of Tallison’s compound and through the city of open-sided shelters and hovels, ignoring the hostile stares of its inhabitants. They were used to seeing corpses taken to the sprawling dump by the old city walls and many of them would have made that journey themselves to dispose of their dead. What was so unusual was that the body was being carried by two brotherlords and that it was wrapped in a rug. Such a rug could be sold for food and shelter and perhaps even some ardas which would take them away from their wretched lives for a night or two. They weren’t the only ones who had watched them; two of the guards from the compound had followed them, curious as to why two brotherlords would be dirtying their hands disposing of a corpse.

It was because of their attention and watching eyes that they had been forced to dump the body on the refuse pile, unrolling it from its rug and leaving it naked and face down by the old city wall. They had walked away as if they didn’t care, making a show of taking the rug with them so that no one would be tempted to disturb the body. If there had been swarms of gnawers scurrying over the heap, as there usually were, then they wouldn’t have dared to leave the girl but curiously they had all suddenly gone and so far, unlike the gnawers, the people hadn’t been desperate enough to eat the dead.

They returned when it was dark knowing that no one would go near the dump at night, scared away by the ghosts of the unburied dead which were said to rise in the darkness seeking a final resting place. Tozaman and Oraman weren’t afraid of ghosts; they had seen too many people die to believe that their vengeful spirits rose at night. They were far more concerned about the two guards who had followed them to the dump and whether they had waited to see if the brotherlords would come back to retrieve the body. After waiting, hiding behind the stones of a fallen tower, they came to the conclusion that the guards had given up and had returned to the comfort of the compound. Certain that they were safe from prying eyes they ran, crouching low, to where they had left the body.

The girl was still there, exactly where they had left her, face down in the shade of the high wall. Her skin was cool but thankfully not ice cold and her breathing was shallow but not enough for them to have to feel for a pulse in her neck to ensure she was still alive. They carefully rolled her into the rug and then with some difficulty Oraman helped to lift the bundle across Tozaman’s shoulder. Her head dangled down his back and her feet hit him in the stomach as he walked away from the dump but he kept going. Of course it would have been easier to carry her as they had before, by her shoulders and legs. However they needed to move swiftly and make the smallest outline possible in case anyone was watching for them or the place where they had decided to hide the girl.

In a city where everyone could see everyone else and useful information sold to a guard would buy an extra loaf of bread it was almost impossible to hide someone. Even the brotherlords’ camp was too open and Nyte would have been discovered by their servants before the sun had risen into the sky. There was only one place where no one ever went with its crumbling buildings which were slowly returning to the dust of the desert from which they had been made. The walled city was a dangerous place and entry had been forbidden by Talis; not because the deserted and derelict buildings were falling down but because the city had been built by the Goddess’s servants. Once Tilital had been dedicated to Federa and her temple still stood at its centre.

Neither Tozaman nor Oraman believed the story that the sorcerer’s evil magic was mixed with the mortar that held the buildings together. Surely if magic had been used to construct the buildings they wouldn’t be crumbling so easily. They were, however, careful where they put their feet and tried to keep the disturbance to a minimum, aware of the hissing sound of falling dust and whispering sand all around them. Both of them had been born and brought up in the city and remembered it when it had been a place full of people and life. Now the dead city was like the bones of a corpse returning to the earth and they felt like grave robbers disturbing the dead who should have been left in peace.

The moment they saw the temple their feelings of being unwanted intruders changed to one of surprise and then to a strange kind of joy, as if they were coming home after a long journey. Like all the temples dedicated to the Goddess this one was round and windowless with one single, wooden door. It was so different to any other building in the city that they had to stop and stare at it despite Tozaman’s heavy load and their need to hurry.

For a start the building was made of brown stone embedded with crystals which gave it a sparkling, slightly pink tinge that was different than the crumbling white buildings around it. It had a bronze, domed roof, probably the only metal that still remained in the old city and a wooden door with bronze studs which was firmly closed. Whilst every piece of wood and metal had been stripped from the city and the buildings decayed into dust, this one place remained untouched, as solid as the day it was built. It was little wonder that Talis didn’t want anyone to see it; they would be utterly amazed by the power of the Goddess which sustained it.

Tozaman’s father had believed in the Goddess and had taught Tozaman and his brothers and sisters that Federa was eternal and watched over all her people for ever. It was probably because she had failed to watch over his father that Tozaman had stopped believing in her, but standing in front of her temple, unaltered by time or man or the desert, he at last understood what his father had meant. He probably would have stood there all day if Oraman hadn’t pulled him urgently by the arm and hurried him up the steps.

Without touching it the door opened at their approach making a gap wide enough to let them through as if it had been waiting for them. Inside it was just as he remembered it as a boy, small and round, dimly lit by the bronze dome above and with a simple pedestal at its centre. He thought that when he’d visited there as a child, the top of the pedestal had been black on one side and white on the other, but he might have been mistaken, for now it was a swirl of black and white and grey.

They had stayed with the girl all night, and then he’d left Oraman there to watch her whilst he returned to the brotherlords’ camp. His armsbrothers were still encamped outside of Tilital waiting for the last of the desert patrols to return after which they would return to Astazin. Then another brotherlord with his thousand armsbrothers would camp outside Tilital and take their men on patrol. Whilst he was in camp he had duties to perform and he would be quickly missed if he wasn’t seen around camp or exercising his men. It would be different when darkness fell and the brotherlords were expected to retire to their comfortable shelters whilst their brotherhand took over command. That would give him the opportunity to slip away and relieve Oraman until the sun rose again.

*

The girl gave a small cry and her eyes flickered open, unfocused at first but full of alarm like a desert runner caught in a box canyon. Nyte started when she realised she was leaning against a man and scuttled away to the other side of the pedestal, trying to hide behind it. Tozaman let her go. There was nowhere she could run to and he didn’t think the doors would open for her in her present state. Nyte watched him with wary eyes, her heart beating rapidly and her thoughts muddled and confused. She thought she knew him and that she had seen him somewhere before, but she couldn’t think where.

For that matter she couldn’t think where she was or even who she was. She had a vague memory of there being men all around her and people screaming and crying but it all seemed so distant. There were other images in her mind as well; those were fresher and involved other men pawing at her body and holding her down. As the memories came flooding back she gave a small whimper and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She tried to put those memories as far away from her as she could.

Across the other side of the room the man hadn’t moved. He still sat where he was holding a mug in one hand and a wine skin in the other. She was very thirsty and was almost certain that the man in the room was not one of those who had been with her before. He was dressed differently, not in dark leathers but in a long, pale tunic with blue and gold embroidery and loose-fitting trousers. His clothes were just like the ones she wore except that his fit whilst hers were much too large for her. The other one, the one with the mad eyes, who she couldn’t quite remember, had taken her clothes so she supposed that this man must have dressed her which also meant that he must have rescued her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Tozaman smiled, thankful that the first words she uttered were not the curses he had heard her speak in her sleep. He held out the water skin and mug. “Are you thirsty?”

Nyte nodded and waited for him to pass her the skin but when he didn’t move her need to drink forced her to move towards him. As soon as she was within reach she grabbed the skin and scurried back behind the pedestal where she gulped the liquid greedily without taking her eyes off of him.

After her third long pull at the skin Tozaman thought he’d better intervene. “You shouldn’t drink too much at one time, you have a lot of bruising around your stomach and something inside you might be damaged.”

She stopped drinking. He was right, she was bruised and she could feel the tenderness where the belt which held her over large trousers up rubbed against her and she was sore too. She felt around her neck and winced as her fingertips touched more tender flesh. Other parts of her body hurt as well but she didn’t think there was anything broken inside of her. She took another gulp of the watered wine and decided that the reason her stomach felt odd was because she needed to eat. “Food?” she asked hopefully.

Tozaman picked up a bundle wrapped in a cloth and opened it to reveal two small loaves, some soft, strong-smelling cheese and a length of hard sausage. He placed them on the cloth in front of him and waited for the girl to come forward. This time when Nyte took the food she didn’t scurry away but crouched down just out of arms reach and slowly chewed the end of the hard, spicy sausage. Tozaman carefully pulled a knife from his belt, cut one of the loaves in half long ways and spread the cheese thickly over both halves. He put one half in front of Nyte and started eating the other half. Nyte watched him for a short while, took up the knife he had left on the cloth and cut the sausage in two returning the knife and the uneaten part of the sausage to Tozaman’s side of the cloth. He smiled in satisfaction at his small victory to win her trust.

“Why did you save me?” she asked suddenly.

“I saved you because the magician asked me to, and because you are a woman and needed my help.”

She frowned at that. “The one with the mad eyes says that a woman’s only use is to serve men and carry their seed.”

“The man with the mad eyes is wrong. Women are there for men to love and care for and to build families together.”

Nyte frowned. It seemed like a good idea but she was sure it wasn’t right. She finished the sausage and started on the bread and cheese. “Who is the magician?”

“His name is Jonderill and he is the prisoner of the one with the mad eyes.”

She nodded uncertainly. “Yes, I remember him now. He has eyes like mine. Is he my brother?”

Tozaman was startled. It was something he hadn’t considered but it was most unlikely, he didn’t think Jonderill had been to Sandstrone before he was captured and he was certain that King Duro only had the four children who were all dead apart from Nyte. “No, he’s just a magic worker; lots of them have green eyes.”

“Oh. Then am I a magic worker too?”

“No, not everyone with green eyes has magic. Don’t you remember who you are?”

“I don’t think so. I can remember different things and different people but it doesn’t fit together very well.”

Tozaman smiled and wondered if Jonderill was right. Would Nyte be angry and want her revenge when she found out who she was and what had been kept hidden from her? Perhaps it would be better not to tell her, but the people desperately needed someone to lead them to freedom and despite Oraman’s misgivings, he was certain that Duro’s daughter was the one. Of course, when she found out who she was, she could do something stupid and get them all killed, but he was prepared to take that chance.

“If you come and sit next to me I will tell you what I know.”

The girl thought about it for the moment and decided that the man wasn’t like the others or the one with the mad eyes. She moved to sit beside him on the rug bringing the uneaten sausage with her and sliding the knife securely into her belt. They were still there, side by side and talking quietly when Oraman opened the door of the temple and slipped inside. Outside the temple the first rays of the morning sun began to light the deserted houses of the derelict city.