The Crow (8 page)

"How do you not get lost?" asked Hem breathlessly. Saliman was walking very fast, and he almost had to run to keep up with him, Ire clinging to his shoulder and flapping to keep his balance. Hem feared being left behind because he thought he would never find his way out.

"I've been walking this palace since I was little older than you," said Saliman. "And that is many years. I am sorry that I have no time to show you its marvels. There is no place like it in the world, and there never will be again... There are chambers here where the walls are decorated only with precious stones. There is a summer house built entirely of jasper, which was made five hundred years ago solely for the recitation of a certain poem by a famous poet of Turbansk. In the Garden of Helian there is a beautiful house of red marble made by the Ernani Helian a thousand years ago, so he could study the stars; Bards still use it for sky-watching. On festival days the people of Turbansk can enter here, and they come in their thousands to marvel and to feast in the gardens. And I suppose I feel the same pride in the Ernan's extravagant beauty as they do, although at times I wonder..." He trailed off.

Hem, dazzled by the splendors he was walking through, looked up questioningly.

Saliman shrugged his shoulders, smiling. "You will have noticed there are no corridors in this palace. In Annar, they build corridors; the Annarens like that kind of logic. This palace is built as a series of spirals. Here it is more complicated and oblique to get anywhere."

Hem privately agreed; he was hopelessly lost. But Saliman was continuing, musing as if to himself.

"Though in all the Seven Kingdoms power is complex," he said. "It is so, even in Annar. Norloch is relatively simple, because only Bards rule there... Elsewhere there are two authorities, the Bards and the governing councils. And the Bards and the other authorities do not always agree on what is best to do."

Saliman halted and looked around the colonnaded hall through which they were now walking. "But often I think that Turbansk is the most complicated," he said. "The people of Turbansk are born with politics in their blood. Cadvan would not last two days here; he would lose his temper and offend all the consuls, and from then on his life would be misery." Saliman grinned, thinking of his old friend. "Sometimes this is a good thing; it is far better that people talk than fight. But when something must be done quickly – well, it can make it more difficult. Our friend Alimbar, for example, despite our desperation, has been making my life more complicated than it need be, for reasons of his own. But we are very fortunate in our present Ernani, Har-Ytan."

Saliman stopped outside tall doors more impressive than any Hem had yet seen: they were of cedar burnished to a deep, rich polish, with great bosses wrought of gold in the shape of the sun entwined in flames of different colors, from deep red to white gold. Saliman looked down at Hem.

"Hem, you must be on your best behavior here. And Ire, too," he added in the Speech, looking sternly at the bird, who gave a faint
cark
and hid his head in Hem's hair. "Just bow as I do, and say nothing."

Suddenly nervous, Hem gulped and nodded, and Saliman bowed his head to the two palace guards, who opened the doors and admitted them.

Hem paused involuntarily at the threshold, blinking with dazzlement. Saliman was striding forward, so he rapidly collected himself and followed. He cast covert glances around the room, doing his best not to look as overwhelmed as he felt. The rest of the palace was, he realized, merely a rehearsal for the throne room.

The Ernani sat on a wide, low dais at the far end, on a throne of black enameled wood carved in filigree patterns with a marvelous delicacy so that, despite its size – its back stretched high behind the Ernani – it gave an impression of weightlessness. Behind the throne, reaching up to the ceiling, was a giant golden sun like those embossed on the doors, which cast a golden glow about the whole room. The walls, which were pierced by long, narrow windows that ran from floor to ceiling, were faced with plain panels of dull gold punctuated by murals painted with an exquisite delicacy, each framed in the same black enameled filigree of which the throne was made. They depicted, Saliman told Hem later, famous stories of the Suderain: one was of the Battle of the Dagorlad Plains, in which the Ernani of Turbansk had held back the forces of the Nameless One in the days of the Great Silence; another was of the meeting of Alibredh and Nalimbar, who were fabled lovers, in the water gardens of Jerr-Niken.

Hem and Saliman walked toward the throne on a path of black onyx tiles that bisected a wide and shallow pool stretching for the width of the throne room and half its length. The pool, filled with flowering water lilies, was stepped in three shallow terraces, and water spilled over the lips of the higher levels into the lower pools so the room was filled with its constant music, and the lilies gave off a subtle perfume.

To Hem, it seemed to take a very long time to walk the length of the pool, and then across the plain expanse of polished black stone that stretched before the dais. About the throne were set several low stools, of the same marvelous filigree as the throne itself, on which sat five people. They turned and watched as Saliman and Hem approached and Hem recognized, with a flutter in his stomach, Alimbar, whom he had last seen outside the door of Saliman's house. He also recognized Juriken, the First Bard of Turbansk, and II Hanedr, whom he knew was the captain of the city soldiers, the Guardians of the Sun. A tough-looking, thin woman – the chief guard, Menika – stood silently by Har-Ytan's right shoulder in Turbansk battle gear, and another woman he did not recognize, dressed in formal robes, sat nearby, her head bowed.

The Ernani sat very still on the throne, watching their progress. Hem dared a swift glance, although by this time he was so awed he scarcely knew where to direct his eyes. The Ernani was the most regal human being he had ever seen.

She must have been fully Saliman's height, and her body was at once voluptuous and strong; if she had been less tall, he might have thought her stout. She wore a close-fitting dress of silk dyed craftily in many shades of red and orange, which shimmered against her black skin as if she were sheathed in a living flame, and her long hair was braided in tiny plaits in the style of Turbansk, beaded with rubies and gold so it fell in a glittering fountain down her back. A huge ruby blazed on her brow, and on her breast she wore a torque of gold emblazoned with the sun. Her powerful arms were bare, apart from bands of plain gold about her wrists, and a naked sword lay across her lap, in token of war.

When they reached the dais, Saliman genuflected on one knee and bowed his head, and Hem hastily copied him, wishing he had half of Saliman's grace. He was glad that he had been told not to speak; his mouth had gone completely dry, and he was sure that if he had said anything it would have come out as a squeak.

To his amazement, the Ernani addressed them in the Speech; he found later that the Speech was used in the Suderain for all debates of high policy, and although she was not a Bard, Har-Ytan spoke it well. Her voice was deep and musical, and seemed to resonate through the entire throne room.

"You are tardy, Saliman," she said. "We have been waiting."

The hair prickled on Hem's neck. He hoped fervently that she did not blame him.

"Forgive me, Har-Ytan, Fountain of the Light," Saliman answered. "I was detained by other urgent tasks. And only the most urgent could keep me from your glorious presence."

The Ernani laughed, a melodious ripple of mirth that sent a strange shiver down Hem's back.

"Consider yourself merely rebuked, then. Welcome, Cai of Pellinor." Hem was startled that she knew his name, and then blushed at being addressed. "Sit down. There is much to discuss, and little time."

Hem scrambled to his feet and followed Saliman to a stool, hardly daring to look up from his feet. Ire was infected by his abashment and didn't even squawk when the movement almost tipped him off his perch on Hem's shoulder.

Hem was surprised, after the grandeur of their entrance, by the discussion that followed (it was a while before he remembered that the First Bard and the Ernani were, in fact, equal in authority over Turbansk). All formality was put aside, and a discussion of the current defense of Turbansk was conducted briskly, with reports from each present on the latest developments.

II Hanedr, captain of the city guard, said that his scouts reported the Black Army was two days' march distant, preparing to assault the II Dara Wall twenty leagues east of Turbansk, the last major barrier before the Black Army The Wall was manned by some ten thousand archers and infantry, mainly from the regions around Baladh, and four ranks, six hundred in each rank, of the Sun Guard. It was a giant construction made in the days of the Great Silence to resist the forces of the Nameless One, and Har-Ytan had ordered this ancient wall rebuilt and extended five years previously, when it became clear to her that an assault from Den Raven was all but inevitable. It was a strong deterrent: a high double wall of granite with deep foundations, fortified with many towers. It stretched for a league across a strip of dry land that divided the Neera Marshes, and an invading army could be delayed there indefinitely, or be forced to march for leagues around the marshes.

"Imank is slower than we judged, then," said Juriken, raising his eyebrows.

"If the Hull were not so concerned to burn everything in its path, they might be swifter," II Hanedr answered. "But the destruction has bought us a little time, although we might count it dearly bought. We would not have had time to muster so many had Imank moved more quickly."

"Each small advantage we have is bought dearly," said Har-Ytan. "So we must use it well. Is there any point, think you, in harrying the army as it approaches the Wall?"

Both II Hanedr and Juriken shook their heads. "Nay, it would cost us more than it gained," said Juriken. "It would be sending our fighters to almost certain death, and such are the forces arraigned against us, it would not slow them."

"There is nowhere that death is not almost certain," said the Ernani.

Juriken hesitated, then nodded. "There is always hope," he said. But his expression was grim.

Hem's heart froze, and he stole a secret look at Saliman. But now it was Saliman's turn to speak.

Hem now learned that Saliman was coordinating the shoreline defenses. He said that the fleet of Black Army ships from Baladh that he feared was imminent had not been sighted by his scouts.

"Perhaps the fireships we sent against the raiders have made their own argument against attack from the Lamarsan Sea," he said. "But I think that is too much to hope for. I cannot believe that Imank, the captain of the Black Army, does not plan an attack from the Lamarsan Sea; those fleeing Baladh were not able to destroy all the galleys they left behind, and it is not beyond the enemy's power to build more. I fear three score at least being sent against us. What seems most likely is that they plan to send the galleys at the same time as the Black Army, to block our harbor and draw off our forces. We will not be able to flee over the water, if we do not hold the passage. And the caves will serve only for few."

There was a glum silence, and then the talk moved on to a general discussion. The city fortifications, Alimbar reported, were almost completed. Within the city were Alhadeans from Nazar and Cissians and Bilakeans from the plains between Turbansk and Baladh, as well as the remnants of Baladh's defense, all experienced at fighting back the incursions from Den Raven that had become common over the past three centuries. They had retreated stubbornly before the advancing armies, harrying the outriding forces with some success, and had swelled the ranks of the Turbanskians by nearly twenty thousand. Juriken estimated that with the forces now at the Wall, the city had some two score thousand fighters, and supplies enough for all of them for three months, even if the harbor were closed off.

Hem brightened at the numbers; it seemed so many, more than he could imagine in one place. But Juriken was gloomy; he estimated the Black Army was ten times that size, and of that number, many were dogsoldiers. He was also uncertain about what kinds of sorceries Imank might be planning to use. After that, Hem noted that no one talked about victory; and he shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

Lastly spoke Indira, the stranger who had listened silently and intently to the entire discussion. She was an emissary from Zimek, a large School to the south of Turbansk.

Zimek, Hem learned to his shock, was to be abandoned, and all its peoples were now on their way to Car Amdridh. "Not all like it, naturally," said Indira, her face somber. "Many are angry at the thought of leaving their homes, and say we flee like cowards. But we all know our fate otherwise would be Baladh's, to be disemboweled by the Black Army as crows tear a carcass; we are strong, but not strong enough. This way, we choose when we leave, and what we take with us, although it breaks our hearts. We take all we can carry, and are burning all crops and stripping all orchards. There will be nothing for the army to pillage."

Juriken and Har-Ytan nodded. "How long before Zimek is emptied, then?" asked Har-Ytan.

"Two days, no more," Indira answered. "And then it is done." While she had been speaking she had shown no emotion, but now her voice broke, and she covered her eyes. Har-Ytan reached out and pressed her hand gently.

"It is well done," she said quietly. "Alas, all our hearts will be riven, ere the end of this."

After the meeting in the Ernan, Hem felt deeply exhausted, so Saliman sent him home and continued to the harborside to speak to the ship captains who were now coming in from yet another attack against the raiders of the Black Army. He came back many hours later, and after greeting Hem went to bed without eating anything. Saliman did not stir from his chamber until late the next day.

The smoke rose in the east, closer again. But the defenses of Turbansk were now ready.

The next day Hem found himself with nothing to do, and hungry. Saliman was nowhere to be seen. Instead of making for the butteries, Hem wandered toward the marketplace of Turbansk, wondering if he might find Saliman there, near the harbor.