Faces of Deception (5 page)

Atreus shook his head. “I’d feel terrible if you fell. The basket is too heavy for you.” He eyed the plank. As weathered and gray as the board was, it was also quite thick, with no sign of rotting. “You go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

Rishi sighed, then leaped onto the board and trotted across as lightly as a cat. Atreus followed more slowly, holding the heavy basket away from his body so he could look down and see his feet. By the time he had taken five steps, he almost wished he had let Rishi steal the gold. The plank was bowing severely under his weight, and every step caused it to bounce so harshly he could hardly keep his balance. Forty feet below, a constant stream of Mar scurried past, oblivious to the danger that Atreus might slip and drop the basket on their heads or fall off the board entirely and come crashing down himself.

Atreus was halfway across, on the bounciest part of the board, when heavy boots began to pound down the corridor behind him. He looked up to find Rishi staring across the alley, eyes as wide as coins.

“Perhaps the master could come more quickly,” said Rishi.

“I’m coming as fast as I can!” Atreus’s gaze dropped back to the plank, and he began to grow dizzy as he contemplated the distance between his feet and the ground. “This isn’t as easy as it looks!”

“The master is to be extolled for his remarkable balance,” said Rishi. “But Her Radiance’s men are proving most persistent.”

Atreus took a deep breath, then rushed ahead three quick steps. The plank jumped like a quarterdeck on a stormy sea, and his fourth step found the board coming up when his foot expected it to be going down. He stumbled forward and fell to one knee, slamming the heavy basket down in front of him.

The plank bucked so hard that the end bounced completely off the sill and came down an inch closer to the edge. Atreus squeezed his eyelids shut and did not move, afraid of what would happen if he allowed himself to look a; the alley below.

“Come back here, you ugly devil!” growled an angry voice behind him. “The queen’s executioner will be wanting a word with you.”

A rasping noise sounded ahead, and Atreus felt the board moving backward. He opened his eyes again and saw the end of the plank slowly scraping toward the edge of the windowsill.

Rishi thrust out his arms. “Give me the basket!”

“So you can run off with it?”

Atreus crawled forward, pushing the basket ahead of him. The board jerked beneath his knees, and the end slipped to within two fingers of the window’s edge.

“Have I not earned your trust by now?” Rishi continued to reach for the basket. “I am only trying to help!”

“If you want to help, grab the board!” Atreus commanded.

“But I am only a Mar,” Rishi whined. Despite his objection, lie grabbed the plank with both hands. “I am no match for the strength of the Ffolk!”

The board wobbled sideways, and the guard called, “Last chance! Surrender now, or I’ll finish you here.”

“And kill those people down there?” Atreus glanced at the alley floor, where a small crowd had finally gathered to stare up at the strange confrontation above their heads. “I doubt the queen would approve of that.”

“They’ll get out of the way.” The guard gave the plank a mighty tug.

Rishi pulled back and kept the end from slipping off the window sill, but Atreus’s knee dropped off the side. The board tipped sideways, nearly flipped, and Atreus cried out in alarm.

Rishi grunted and braced his feet against the wall, leaning back against the guard’s strength. The plank began to wobble and shudder. Atreus sat down and straddled the board, and only then did he hazard a glance over his shoulder at the other end of the plank, two guards stood side-by-side, both holding the board and straining to pull it out of Rishi’s hands. There were more men behind them, but quarters were too cramped for additional hands. Atreus’s heart began to pound. Even if his foes did not realize it yet, they had only to let go to send Rishi tumbling backward and Atreus plunging to his death.

The guards suddenly scowled and glanced up at the ceiling, then Yago appeared on the tenement roof, standing directly over their heads. When the ogre saw Atreus’s predicament, be frowned and kneeled, cocking his fist to punch through the roof.

“Yago, wait!” Atreus yelled

The ogre was already bringing his fist down. A huge hand smashed through ceiling of the tenement and began feeling around. Atreus turned back to Rishi and pushed the basket forward, pulling himself along behind it as fast as he could.

Rishi let out a deep groan and slipped closer to the window. The Mar’s knuckles were as pale as ivory. He kept his gaze locked on the treasure basket and did not blink. Atreus scooted another step forward. He was close enough to push the basket through the window, but Rishi was in the way.

A strangled cry sounded from the other end of the plank as Yago finally caught hold of a guard. Atreus shouted a warning to the people below, then shoved the basket into Rishi’s startled face.

The Mar had no choice but to release the board and grab the treasure basket. As it dropped away, Atreus flung himself forward and caught hold of the sill. His body swung down and smashed into the wall, leaving him dangling from the window like a rag hung out to dry. The plank tumbled into the alley below, demolishing two pairs of window shutters as it bounced off the tenement walls on the way down.

“Good sir?” Rishi’s voice came from the other side of the window. “Are you there?”

“Of course.” Atreus pulled himself up onto the sill. “You’ll have to work harder than that if you want my treasure.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Rishi demanded. He was sitting on the floor with both arms wrapped around the heavy basket. “I am only trying to help.”

“And you’ve done so much. Being a hunted killer is bound to be a great help in finding Langdarma.”

Atreus swung his feet into the corridor, then looked back to see Yago’s hand hanging through a hole in the ceiling. The ogre was smashing a hapless guard about the hallway as though the man’s body were a war-hammer.

“Yago!” Atreus called. “Come on.”

The ogre dropped his victim, then pulled his hand back through the ceiling and disappeared behind the roof line. An instant later he came hurtling across the alley, flailing his arms and legs as though he were trying to fly. Atreus took an instant to judge where Yago would land, then grabbed Rishi’s ankle and jerked him back toward the window.

“Good sir!” Rishi screeched. “Good sir, I am not some sack of rice to be dragged—”

The ceiling exploded into a spray of splinters and plaster. then Yago crashed down where Rishi had been sitting a moment before. The floor bucked and shook from the impact of the ogre’s ten-foot body, and Rishi’s indignation turned to shock.

“In the name of the Forgotten Ones!” he gasped, peering over his shoulder.

Yago groaned, then rolled onto his back and began to look

around the dusty corridor. “Hey,” he said, “I made it “

Something struck the tenement wall behind Atreus. He looked back to see a guard standing in the window opposite, accepting a fresh dagger from one of his fellows.

“We’re not out of the city yet,” Atreus said, grabbing the basket from Rishi’s hands and spinning around, holding it up before him. “Yago, will you get going?”

As the ogre rolled to his knees, Rishi slipped past and led the way down the hall. Atreus backed after them, holding the basket up like a shield. This did not prevent the angry guard from hurling several more daggers through the window. The knives were hardly balanced for throwing, but one managed to lodge itself in the basket and another tumbled past perilously close to Yago’s back.. At last, Rishi turned a corner and ducked down a stairwell, and Atreus finally had time to take note of the foreign sounds and smells of the building. From behind every door came melodic Maran jabber. The upper floors, used primarily for residences, smelled—perhaps even stank—of exotic cooking spices. Every now and then the trio had to squeeze past a small group of Mar coming up the stairs. The men clapped at Yago and stared at Atreus’s face with open hostility. The women retreated to the landing below and let them pass, blushing and averting their eyes. The children gasped in open awe of Yago’s size, then hissed and clapped their hands to ward off Atreus and his “wickedness.” By the time the trio reached the ground floor, Atreus felt happy to have grown up among the Shield-breakers. At least Yago’s sons and nephews had considered his unfortunate looks nothing worse than an excuse to start a good fight.

When they reached the ground floor, Rishi led the way through an open poultry market into a narrow lane. Atreus was so turned around that until a pair of Mar wandered past carrying a long plank, he did not recognize it as the same alley over which he had been hanging a few minutes earlier.

“Over here, my banana-loving friend!”

The call came from a short distance down the alley, where a round-faced Mar with a waxed mustache sat in the driver’s seat of a large covered wagon. He was a plump man, about the same size and shape as the shadowy figure who had thrown the banana into the Howdah. Hitched to the man’s wagon were two of the strangest oxen Atreus had ever seen. They had narrow, cow like faces with curved horns as long as a man’s arm, and their bodies were hidden head-to-hoof beneath shaggy skirts of golden-black hair.

Rishi draped his hand around Atreus’s elbow in the overly familiar way of the Mar and led him toward the cart.

“Bharat, my good friend! This is the unfortunate gentleman I was telling you about, and this is his large servant.” Rishi gestured at Yago. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, yes, just as you asked. Hide yourselves beneath my carpets, and we are on our way to Langdarma.” Bharat smiled too eagerly, displaying teeth as white as snow, then nodded to Yago. “I brought my largest wagon, but even so, I fear you will have to fold your legs.”

Rishi started toward the back of the cart, but Atreus made no move to follow.

“We’re going to Langdarma in an oxcart?” he asked.

Rishi feigned a look of shock. “But of course! Surely, you did not think we could take your elephant?”

Bharat’s carpet wagon had nearly crested the front range of the Yehimal Mountains when the Queen’s Guard finally caught up to it. The riders, mounted on shaggy mountain ponies about the size of a good war dog, traveled lightly, with little more than sabers, haversacks, and long woolen hauberks that served as both coat and armor. Behind them, three days back and a thousand switchbacks down the wooded mountainside, lay the misty forests of Edenvale. The capital itself was still visible, a tiny dun-colored circle on the far horizon.

The guards, all rugged-faced Mar accustomed to the rigors of mountain travel, urged their ponies into a trot, surrounding the wagon on all sides. Bharat feigned surprise and reached for the axe beneath his seat, as though mistaking the riders for a company of road bandits.

“We are the Queen’s Men, driver,” said the leader. He spoke in Thorass to indicate he was on official business. “You have nothing to fear from us, unless you are the one hiding Ysdar’s devil and his murderous servants—and if you are, you will not escape us anyway. Let us have a look in your cart.”

Bharat glanced around at the riders, then sighed and reluctantly reined his strange oxen—the beasts were called “yaks”—to a halt. “I have no devils with me,” he said plainly. “I will show you.”

Bharat wrapped the reins around a seat brace and turned to crawl into the cargo area, but the leader swung his lance down to block the way.

“We will look ourselves. This devil is very clever and dangerous. Perhaps he and his servants slipped into your cart when you were not looking. I would not want you injured.”

Bharat turned his palms to the sky, shrugging, and sat back down. A dozen riders dismounted, passing their lances and reins to their fellows, then stepped to the rear of the wagon. Half of them drew their sabers and stood ready to attack. The others began to drag Bharat’s carpets out of the cargo bed, unrolling each one and tossing it into the middle of the muddy road.

“What are you doing?” Bharat exclaimed. “That is my whole fortune!”

“A little dirt will do no harm to a good carpet,” the leader replied.

“But why is it necessary to unroll them all?” Bharat demanded, growing genuinely angry. “If your devil and his servants had rolled themselves up inside my carpets, surely men as astute as yours would notice the bulges!”

“This is a very clever devil. We do not know what he can do,” the leader said, and gave Bharat a cockeyed sneer, showing a single gold tooth. “Perhaps you are even this devil in disguise.”

The implication was clear enough. Too much protesting could be taken the wrong way. Bharat watched in silence as the searchers spread his carpets across the road, then started on his provisions and personal belongings. They looked inside everything, even water-skins, and felt inside the pockets of his extra clothes. They opened his food bags and ran their filthy hands through his rice and barley, and they drained his oil jar into a cooking pot.

Bharat could only shake his head. “This devil’s magic must be very powerful,” he said, “if you think he can breathe cooking oil.”

“Very powerful indeed,” the leader assured him. “He can fight four men at once and command ogres to do his will, and several Ffolk have seen him walk on air. Queen Rosalind herself told me he knows things no man should know.”

Truly?” Bharat asked.

The leader nodded, and the corners of his mouth turned down in a self-impressed scowl. “She said we must catch him, or there will be Ysdar to pay.”

When the searchers had finally emptied the wagon, they began to crawl around the cargo bed on their hands and knees, rapping the floor and walls with the hilts of their daggers. Bharat watched nervously.

“Are you not satisfied yet?” he demanded. “You have delayed me too long already, and I am expected in Borobodur.”

The leader only grinned and waited, and it did not take long before one of the searchers located the hollow sound of the wagon’s secret compartment.

The leader grinned. “A smuggler’s hole?”