The Hidden City (43 page)

Androl smiled as the cliff-face began to topple outward, tumbling and roaring down into the gorge. The silly beast was accommodatingly providing the means for its own destruction. How could it
be
so stupid?

King Androl adroitly dodged a tumbling, house-sized boulder, carefully assessing the rapidly growing slope of rubble piling up at the base of the cliff.

The beast actually intended to attack! Androl laughed with delight. The creature was stupid beyond imagining,
but he
did
have to give
it
credit for courage – foolish courage, of course, but courage nonetheless. All the universe knew that Androl of Atan was invincible, and yet this poor dumb brute meant to pit its puny strength against the greatest warrior since the beginning of time.

Androl looked speculatively at the steep, growing slope of rubble, ignoring the cries of those of his soldiers not nimble enough to avoid being crushed in the avalanche rumbling down upon them. Almost high enough now. Just a few more feet.

And then he judged that the steep slope had grown high enough to give him access to the stupid creature roaring and flapping its wings high above. He dodged another boulder and began his rush, scrambling, dodging, leaping, as he swiftly mounted toward the doomed beast above him.

When he was almost to the top, he paused, drew his sword, and set himself.

And then with a savage war-cry he rushed up the remaining slope, ignoring the momentary flicker of sympathy he felt for the brave, misguided creature he was about to kill.

‘Where do you think you're going?' a burly Dacite wearing a shabby uniform tunic and holding a long pike demanded as Sparhawk and Kalten pulled the wobbly cart with two large barrels in it around the corner of the building.

‘We've got a delivery from Senga for Master Krager,' Kalten replied.

‘Anybody could say that.'

‘Go ask him,' Kalten suggested.

‘I wouldn't want to disturb him.'

‘Then you'd better let us past. He's been waiting for this wine for quite some time now. If you keep us from delivering it, he'll
really
be disturbed. He might even be
disturbed enough to take the matter to Lord Scarpa.'

The guard's face grew apprehensive. ‘Wait here,' he said, then turned and went along the back of the building to the heavy door.

‘I'll stay in the background when we get inside,' Sparhawk quietly told his friend. ‘If he asks, just tell him that I'm a strong back you commandeered to help pull the cart.'

Kalten nodded.

‘Are you here, Anarae?' Sparhawk asked, looking around in spite of the fact that he knew he wouldn't be able to see her.

‘Right at thy side, Anakha,' her voice replied softly.

‘We'll keep him talking for as long as we can. He'll probably be a little drunk. Will that make it difficult for you?'

‘I have shared the thoughts of this Krager before,' she told him. ‘He is coherent unless he is far gone with drink. If it be convenient, direct his attention toward the house where thy Queen was late held captive. That may prod his mind toward thoughts of interest to us.'

‘I'll see what I can do, Anarae,' Kalten promised.

The Dacite guard came back. ‘He'll receive you,' he announced.

‘Somehow I was almost sure he would,' Kalten smirked. ‘Master Krager's very fond of this particular wine.' He and Sparhawk lifted the shafts of the cart and pulled it along over the rough, littered ground at the back of the semi-restored ruin that appeared to be Scarpa's main headquarters.

Krager was eagerly waiting in the doorway. His head was shaved, but he still looked much the same. He was dishevelled and unshaven, his near-sighted, watery eyes were bloodshot, and his hands were visibly shaking. ‘Bring it inside,' he ordered in his familiar, rusty-sounding voice.

Kalten and Sparhawk set the shafts of the cart down, untied the ropes that had held the two barrels in place, and carefully eased one of them out onto the ground. Kalten measured the height of the barrel with a length of the rope and then checked the width of the doorway. ‘Just barely,' he said. Tip it over, Fron. We'll be able to roll it in.'

Sparhawk heaved the barrel over onto its side, and he and his friend rolled it through the doorway into the cluttered room beyond. There was an unmade bed against one wall, and clothes littered the floor. The place was permeated with the acrid smell of Krager's unwashed, wine-sodden body, and there was a heap of empty casks and broken earthenware bottles in one corner.

‘Where did you want these, Master Krager?' Kalten asked.

‘Anyplace,' Krager said impatiently.

‘That's not thinking ahead,' Kalten said critically. ‘They're too heavy for you to move by yourself. Pick a spot that'll be convenient.'

‘You might be right.' Krager squinted around the room. Then he went to a place near the head of the bed and kicked some clothes out of the way. ‘Put them right here,' he instructed.

‘Ah – before we go any further, why don't we settle up? These are very expensive, Master Krager.'

‘How much?'

‘Senga told me that he had to have fifty crowns a barrel. Arcian red's very hard to come by this far away from Arcium.'

‘Fifty crowns?'
Krager exclaimed.

‘Each,' Kalten insisted. ‘He told me to open the barrels for you, too.'

‘I know how to open a wine barrel, Col.'

‘I'm sure of it, but Senga's an honest businessman, and he wants me to make sure you're satisfied before I
take your money.' He rolled the barrel over against the wall. ‘Help me set it up, Fron,' he told Sparhawk. They righted the barrel, and Kalten took a pry-bar out from under his belt. ‘Beer's a lot easier to deal with,' he noted. ‘Somebody ought to tell those Arcian vintners about the advantages of putting a bung-hole in the side of a barrel.' He carefully pried up the lid as Krager, cup in hand, eagerly waited at his elbow.

‘Give it a try, Master Krager,' Kalten said then, lifting off the lid and stepping aside.

Krager dipped his cup into the deep red liquid, lifted it with a trembling hand, and drank deeply. ‘Marvelous!' he sighed happily.

‘I'll tell Senga that it meets with your approval,' Kalten said. He laughed. ‘You wouldn't expect it of a highway robber, but Senga's very concerned about satisfying his customers. Would you believe that he even had us pour out a barrel of beer that had gone sour? Come on, Fron, let's get the other barrel. We'll have Master Krager test that one and then we'll settle accounts.'

The two of them went back outside and manhandled the second barrel out of the cart.

‘Ask him why they've taken the guards off the doors of the house where they were holding Ehlana and Alean,' Sparhawk muttered.

‘Right,' Kalten grunted as they lowered the wine barrel to the ground.

They put the second barrel beside the first, Kalten pried open the lid, and Krager sampled it.

‘Satisfactory?' Kalten asked.

‘Just fine,' Krager said. He dipped out another cup and sank back happily on his bed. ‘Absolutely splendid.'

‘That'll be a hundred crowns then.'

Krager pulled a heavy purse out from under his belt and negligently tossed it to Kalten. ‘Here,' he said. ‘Count it out yourself. Don't steal too much.'

‘This is business, Master Krager,' Kalten told him. ‘If I was robbing you, I'd have my knife against your throat.' He swept some clothing and a few dried crusts of bread off the top of a table with his forearm, opened the purse, and started counting out coins. ‘We noticed that all the guards have been pulled away from the house with the bars on the windows,' he said. ‘A couple of days ago a man couldn't get within twenty paces of that place, but this morning Fron and I wheeled that cart right past the front door, and nobody paid any attention to us. Has Lord Scarpa moved whatever was so valuable out of there?'

Krager's puffy face became suddenly alert. ‘That's none of your business, Col.'

‘I didn't say it was. You might just make a suggestion to Lord Scarpa, though. If he doesn't want people to notice things like that, he shouldn't change anything. He should have kept all the guards right where they were. Senga and the rest of us are all robbers, you know, and we all more or less believed that Lord Scarpa was keeping his treasure in that house. The word “treasure” makes men like us prick up our ears.'

Krager stared at him and then he began to laugh.

‘What's so funny?' Kalten looked up from his counting.

‘It was a treasure all right, Col,' Krager smirked, ‘but not the kind you can count.'

‘Like you say, it's none of my business, but every man who works in Senga's tavern knows that it's been moved. I'm sure they'll all be poking around in these ruins looking for the new storehouse.'

‘Let them look,' Krager shrugged. ‘The treasure's a long, long way from here by now.'

‘I hope you've still got guards on it. Those woods out there are crawling with fellows like Fron and me. Would you come here and check my count?'

‘I trust you, Col.'

‘You're a fool, then.'

‘Take another ten crowns for yourself and your man,' Krager said expansively, ‘and then if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone with my two new friends here.'

‘You're very generous, Master Krager.' Kalten took some more coins from the purse, scooped up all the ones he had previously counted out, and dumped them into the side pocket of his smock. ‘Let's go, Fron,' he said to Sparhawk. ‘Master Krager wants to be alone.'

Tell Senga that I'm grateful to him,' Krager said, dipping out more wine, ‘and tell him to keep his eye out for more of this excellent vintage. I'll buy all he can find.'

‘I'll tell him, Master Krager. Enjoy yourself.' And Kalten led the way out of the reeking room.

Sparhawk closed the door and held out his hand.

‘What?' Kalten asked.

‘My five crowns, if you don't mind,' Sparhawk said firmly. ‘Let's keep accounts current, shall we?'

‘Thou art shrewd, Sir Kalten,' Xanetia's whispered voice came to them. ‘Thou didst most skillfully guide his thought in precisely the direction most useful to us.'

Kalten made some show of counting coins into sparhawk's hand. ‘What did you find out, Anarae?' he asked in a tense voice.

‘Some day or two ago a closed carriage did depart from this place after making some show of stopping – under heavy guard – at the door to the house upon which all our attention hath been fixed. The carriage, which was but a ploy, is bound for Panem-Dea. Those we seek are not inside, however. They had long since departed from Natayos with Zalasta.'

‘Did Krager know where Zalasta was taking them?' Sparhawk asked.

‘It was evidently in Zalasta's mind that none here
should know,' Xanetia replied, ‘but Krager, ever alert to the main chance, was well aware that news of Zalasta's destination might well save his life should things go awry, and he did strive most assiduously to learn the Styric's plans. By feigning drunken stupor, he was able to be present when Zalasta did speak with his comrade, Cyzada. The twain spake in Styric, but Krager, unbeknownst to us all, hath a smattering of that tongue, and he was thus able to glean from their hurried conversation the very information which he – and we – are most curious about.'

‘That's a surprise,' Kalten muttered. ‘Drunk or sober, Krager's a shrewd one, all right. Where's Zalasta taking the ladies, Anarae?'

Xanetia sighed. ‘The information is melancholy, Sir Kalten,' she told him. ‘I do fear me that it is Zalasta's intent to take the Queen and her handmaiden to the hidden city of Cyrga, where Cyrgon himself doth hold sway, and by his power there can deny us all access to those we love.'