The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04 (47 page)

There was other more human activity on that day of relative peace.

There were the usual skirmishes to test the other's defenses and resolve. And the storm proved to be a blessing for the smugglers who supplied us. It turned out there were great caches of needed things in the outlying regions. And the storm was a chance to dig them up and carry them the last few leagues without fear of being spotted by enemy patrols. Pip went out early with one such group and returned quite worried.

He found me by the simulacrum watching Palmeras and his Evocators at work.

"Somethin's up, Cap'n," he said. 'The squints what just come in said all the roads are crawlin' with wagons and workmen and soldiers to guard 'em. Had t' go a day outter their way t' get by all the patrols, they did."

I looked down at the simulacrum, puzzling at the distant hills where the enemy was camped. They were partly obscured by the heavy rain, but I could see the glow of many lights winking through. And the lights were moving.

"The squints said all a Orissa's full of scared talk about Novari. She's holed up at the villa and won't come out. Got all the Evocators there workin' on somethin'. Buildin' somethin'. A big somethin'. They put it together, piece by piece. Then take it apart V start all over again.

"Word is they're almost done. The squints I talked t' called it a 'Vicious Thingie.' Gotter be vicious, right, if Novari's makin' it? Anyways, they said they thought some of that contraption was not only completed, but'd been loaded on wagons. Which was the wagons they saw. Goin' up into yon hills."

He pointed at the winking lights on the simulacrum.

"Somewheres up there," he said, "is where she'll be puttin' whatever it is she's buildin'. That's old Pip's guess."

I mused over his comments. "Seems like a little scouting is in order."

Pip frowned. "Yer not thinkin' about takin' a look in person, are yer, Cap'n?"

I sighed. "Don't see a way around it."

Pip opposed the notion. So did the others when they found out.

"You could wander the hills for hours," Quatervals said. "Days, even. And not find what you're looking for. Hells,

Captain Antero, we don't even know what it is. Or even if it exists for certain."

"I think we have to assume it does exist," I said. "And it won't be all that impossible. Besides physical signs, there'll be a magical heart. A center.

"If it weren't for Novari's shield, we could locate it on the simulacrum and cast spells to spy out the details. If I can slip under the shield and get in close, I'll have free use of my powers to do all the investigating that we need."

Palmeras fumed. "You're just like your brother," he said. "Pretty speeches are the curse of the Anteros. You lectured us quite high-mindedly last night about the false myth of heroes. How great things are accomplished by the spirit of many, not the few.

"Then at the very next opportunity, off you go alone to take on the minions of our enemy. Which is the very same thing Amalric would have done, and I kick myself for being taken in by your little drama."

I grinned at him. "Who said anything about doing it alone?" I indicated Quatervals, Derlina, and Pip. "I'll require a few cutthroats to keep my own neck whole," I said. Then I pointed at him. "And I'll need the canniest Evocator in all Orissa to guard our backs."

Instantl
y all became smiles.

Strange, isn't it, how quickly their opposition vanished soon as they knew their lives would be at stake as well?

But such were the heroes of Galana.

"Flattery will get you everywhere with me, my dear Antero," Palmeras said. "As your brother often opined."

the evocators in
charge of such things said the weather would clear slightly after nightfall. They said they could stabilize it like that for a time—a few hours, perhaps—until Novari's wizards caught the scent of the spell and blocked it. Palmeras said he'd make certain the skies remained heavily overcast to help hide us when we slithered up to the enemy lines.

'That's when I'll cast the first diversionary spell," he said. "It should get you through in fine health. You won't be able to signal me when you need to return, so we'd better set a time right now. Then I can cast the second spell to get you home safely."

He thought a moment. "It comes down to guesses," he said, "even in this age of miracles. The weather ought to stay with us for about three hours. That's our best guess on this side. What's yours, my dear Antero? How long will you need?"

I looked at the others. Shrugs all around. "Make it three hours," I said. 'That's guess enough to live by."

It was decided that the most reliable method of keeping track of the hours was to make Galana the clock. Flares would be set off moments before Palmeras cast his diversionary spell. That'd mark the first hour. Other flares would follow an hour apart. When we spotted the last flare, we'd know our time was up. We were supposed to drop whatever we were doing and rush back to the front fines as fast as we could. Palmeras' second casting would be made soon after the last flare was lit.

When that happened we'd best be in place, or it'd be most difficult to get through.

after we'd discussed
the plan in depth and got ourselves ready,
I
stole a few moments for a promised visit with Emilie.

She was excited to see me and said she had a wonderful surprise.

"You have to come right away, Aunt Rali," she said, grabbing me by the hand and pulling. "Oh, do say you'll come. Please!"

I knew I should rest, but her smile was so sunny, how could I do anything except agree?

She led me outside, trailed by two large pensioners who were her ever-present guards. They were both former sergeants with scars enough for five careers. Their names were Torpol and Weene. They were big shy women with fierce features and eyes that became tender when they gazed on Emilie.

The rain had stopped briefly and the child ran ahead, dancing about in the puddles, happy to be free and in the open. She had on little boots to protect her feet and a blue-hooded cloak that she could grip in her hands and flap like a bird.

"She's what we're fightin' for, Captain," Torpol said, a smile creasing her rough face.

"Use'ter be Orissa," Weene added. 'Took my oath to defend her when I was but a lass. Then they took away Orissa. So it's Emilie we fights for now."

"What she stands for, we mean," Torpol broke in. "The last Antero. If she falls, Orissa will never rise again, they say. And I, for one, believe it."

I didn't point out that Emilie was the last Antero but one. I was there, after all:
Rali
Antero in the flesh. But I don't think anyone at Galana really knew what to make of me. Was I a ghost or was I mortal? To tell the truth, I wasn't certain myself.

Nor am I any more certain now as I write this.

Emilie took us through the woodlot that surrounded the temple. From the easy way the two guards walked, I could tell it was a path they frequently trod. The air was heavy with moisture and smelled of fall's tired growth. When we came to the temple, the two women fell back to guard the entrance while Emilie and I continued on.

Memory flooded back when I stepped inside. The temple was the same simple little stone building I'd visited fifty years before.

I walked past the familiar offering box near the entrance and crossed the stone pavement toward the altar and the tall statue of the Goddess Maranonia. Above her was the patterned window in the high ceiling. When I'd last been there, a bright summer sun had streamed through. Now the light was cold and faint, making the statue somehow seem remote to us, as if the goddess' attentions were distant from the plight of her loyal subjects.

The same frescoes heralding the triumphs of the Maranon Guard graced the walls, including my own battle against the

Archon. When I'd seen that fresco last, it'd been freshly painted. Now it was as faded and old as the others.

Emilie guided me to the raised pool near the altar. "First we need some water," she explained. "Special water. For the surprise."

She took a cup from her cloak pocket and dipped it into the pool. When the cup broke the surface, it released a faint cloud of perfume. She lifted the cup, and droplets glittering like small diamonds ran down the sides and fell back into the pool, hissing as if they were hot sparks, then vanishing as if they'd been quenched.

"It was already magical," Emilie said, indicating the pool. "But just a little bit."

She held up two fingers spread slightly apart to show the dimensions of a "little bit."

"So I kind of played around and made it more magical. And you know what?"

"What?"

"It was a good thing I did," she said solemnly. "The way it turned out, I needed a whole lot of magical water."

A most precise little girl, she spread her arms wide to demonstrate. "A whole, whole lot!"

Then she took me behind the statue of the goddess, and there, frail and naked under the cold light leaking in from above, was a little tree in a little pot.

Coming to about my waist, the tree was gray, with half a dozen graceful limbs no bigger than my smallest finger. Only a single silvery leaf clung to the tree. It was overly large, but delicately shaped, with fine veins tracing a lacy pattern across its surface.

"Isn't it wonderful, Aunt Rali?" Emilie cried. Then she ran to the tree and fell on her knees. She poured the water into the pot, chanting:

"I took a look In a book And there I saw a tree.

And the tree lived here And the tree lived there. Wriggly, wriggly everywhere. Come and see Emilie's tree And you shall be Free like me. Wriggly, wriggly, Emilie."

The water came out of the cup as a glowing stream. The quantity seemed vast for such a little vessel, flowing on and on as she chanted, swirling about the base of the tree, overflowing the pot and spilling out onto the stone floor.

When she finished her chant, she stopped pouring and put the cup down carefully. Then she clapped her hands together, shouting:
"Emilie says!"

The little tree shimmered, and the silver of the single leaf shone brighter. 1 could feel sorcerous energy stir from far away. The tree's roots were drawing on that Otherworld power, and I could actually sense woody life swell and grow stronger.

'The beautiful tree was in Uncle Amalric's book," Emilie said. "I didn't really read it. I can read a little. But Uncle Amalric uses pretty hard words sometimes. So I got other people to read it to me. All about their adventures looking for the real Far Kingdoms. My favorite part was when they got to the magic tree. With the silver leaves."

She pointed at the pot. "So I made one." She grimaced. "It's kind of small. And it doesn't grow so good in this light. But with the magic water to help, I got it to make a leaf."

Emilie touched the leaf and it moved under her fingers, seeming to rub against them like a kitten.

"Maybe you can use the leaf to win the war, Aunt Rali," she said, solemn as a temple priestess. "That's my surprise. I hope it works. I've been watering and making spells and working hard for ever so long."

I became kind of moist-eyed at that. To think of a child less that seven worrying about such terrible things. And plotting day after day to find a means to save her elders. But I didn't see how a leaf from even the most magical tree could help.

I said, "It's lovely, Emilie. And I'm proud you were able to do such a thing. I don't think Palmeras could snatch a tree out of a book and grow it. I certainly couldn't."

"It isn't
out
of the book," Emilie protested. "That just gave me the idea. I imagined the tree. I imagined a forest where they grew, but they were too big for me to bring back. So I took a seed. And grew it."

Her story was astonishing. She was only a child, but moving in and out of worlds with the ease of the most learned Evocator.

"The leaf isn't ready yet," she said. "It needs to grow some more. I think it'll fall off when it snows. Then it'll be ready." "How do you know?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I just do. And you know what? I think it's going to snow on my birthday this year. So that's when the leaf will fall off and be ready. Isn't that a wonderful present, Aunt Rali?"

"Hold on a moment, child," I said. "Your poor aunt Rali's head is coming apart. First you show me a bewitched pool. Then a conjured tree. And now you're predicting the weather. Give an old soldier a chance to catch up!"

I sat beside the pot and pulled her into my lap. She snuggled close.

Then she said, "Are you ready yet?" "I'm ready," I said. "Now tell me about the snow. It's important."

"What do you want to know?" Emilie asked, playing with her fingers.

"Can you really tell when it's going to snow?"

She frowned, thinking. Then shook her head. "Not exactly. But soon. Can't you feel it? It's out there." She pointed south. "Way, way far away."

And then we pushed into the Otherworlds together until we came to what I can only describe as a cold brittle place.

"There it is, Aunt Rali," I heard the child's voice whisper. "There's the snow."