The Ale Boy's Feast (40 page)

Her feet gripping both edges of the canyon, the drooling dragon stalked behind them, whimpering with desire. The mage upon her head held her back from devouring the terrified animals.

As the gargantuan creature moved past, the mage glanced down at Auralia curiously. “This company’s going to need help from all available hands,” he said. “And it’s still a long journey to the gate. You might not want to go on foot.”

“Maybe I’ve chosen a different journey,” she replied.

“Young woman, we’re going to open the gates of Inius Throan. This is a story that generations will tell. Your name can be part of the legend.”

“I’ve become a legend,” she murmured. “It’s awful.”

The mage did not hear her for Reveler’s breathing. “And Cal-raven’s people will be the safest in the Expanse. You can trust him.” He spurred the creature on, moving over Auralia.

She stopped, fingering her ring. Cal-raven’s ring.

With hard and jolting steps, the goats complained about their passengers. Their bleating sounded so much like grown men moaning that even the wounded could not help but laugh.

They made steady progress. These paths would not permit wagons, but with Scharr ben Fray’s help, the survivors strapped pallets for the injured across the dragon’s back, and the mage instructed her to crawl low to the ground at the front of the procession.

In this way Tabor Jan, Jes-hawk, three Bel Amican guards, and two merchants were borne on a winding passage through the ascending foothills toward high mountain cliffs. The exhausted travelers eyed the path that the mage had cleared, uncomfortable to think of what might fall on them from the heights or what might follow them in and trap them there.

Through the night their torches lit the way, as did drifting clouds of lantern-bees that emerged from hives inside the walls. What might have been a starry strip of sky above was dimmed by smoke. Ash fell like snowflakes.

Auralia stayed with them, sullen and silent, except to whisper comforts into her anxious rock goat’s ear. “You’ll be rewarded,” she said. “Ehh,” moaned the goat.

At times she glanced over her shoulder. Jordam and the shrouded stranger kept their distance, perhaps listening to ensure no one followed.

Somewhere, a bearcat roared. That set the goats into a riot of noise, but the dragon uttered an ultimatum, and the canyon was silent for another long stretch. Auralia could hear the mage murmur in a strange, guttural pattern, and Reveler dragged her tail, stirring up dust for the procession to cough its way through.

When at last they came to a fork in the path before a massive wedge of stone, the mage dismounted the dragon, and she quickly scaled the rock to perch there like an eagle on a ship’s high prow.

As the travelers released the goats, the animals turned and brought their muzzles in close around Auralia. This strange behavior bewildered the company, and Auralia looked to Cal-raven. But he seemed not to notice, hurrying with Say-ressa to attend again to the wounded.

Krawg approached, bringing Warney along with him.

Auralia, overcome with affection for the dumbfounded Gatherer, slid from her goat’s back and hurried to embrace him.

“See?” said Krawg quietly. “She’s older, but she’s … her!”

Warney choked, his bony body shaking. Clearing his throat he said, “Gotta ’gree with you there.” He wrapped his feeble arms around her. “Why do ya look …”

“Older?” She wiped her sleeve across her eyes. “Not sure. Not yet, anyway.”

“Where’ve you been? We thought we lost you. In Abascar’s fire.”

“I remember the fire. But not much else. Maugam. The dungeon.” Her whisper faded to a trace. “Radegan,” she said, wincing. “Poor Radegan. And then there were flames. A young woman with a lantern. Northchildren. Then … then I was elsewhere. But I was restless. Something … something seemed unfinished. I woke beside a river, and I … I was different. I must have asked to be different.”

“Asked? Who could you ask that could make such a thing come true?”

“Let’s not talk about this,” she whispered, and then she insisted again that they keep secret all she had revealed.

“But think of their amazement, ’Ralia! The celebration!”

“The king must keep his mind on his mission. Until we’re safe inside.”

“Well,” said Krawg, “when the time comes …”

“When the time comes,” she agreed.

Meanwhile, Hagah barked at the front of the stone ship, tail wagging with wild anticipation. The sun rose.

As the great wedge of stone, a small mountain in itself, began to reveal rich red colors in the sunrise, Cal-raven sat beside Tabor Jan and clasped his hand. The captain’s breath was shaky, but his eyes were open. Except for a window around his face, his shoulders, neck, and head were ensconced in a clay cast that Cal-raven had molded with stonemastery.

“Brevolo’s name will be carved by the gate,” Cal-raven said. “And I’ll sculpt her image just inside, where she’ll raise a torch in welcome.”

“Be cautious,” Scharr ben Fray said to him a few moments later. “You will make a host of promises in these early days if you are not careful. Honor the lost by attending to the living. Remember that these first days will become a story passed on for generations. They will be, in themselves, a foundation that shapes the future.”

“When we bring our people from Bel Amica,” Cal-raven murmured, “we’ll raise the colors that carried us through dark days in Barnashum. We wouldn’t be here without Auralia.”

“Or the Keeper who sent her.”

Cal-raven turned away. He did not want his teacher to see the tremors set off by that name.

Scharr ben Fray gripped the young king’s shoulder. “Let me show you something. A treasure kept hidden in Tammos Raak’s Casket since he was driven from this place so many centuries ago.” He gave Cal-raven an ancient, yellowed cloth cloaking a heavy object.

Cal-raven unfolded the cloth. A ring with three keys fell into his hand.

The mage smiled.

Cal-raven examined the ridges in the wall, finding nothing symmetrical, nothing crafted to make this spot seem anything more than a rocky corner. But then his fingertips lingered over a smudge of grey stone that looked like mortar. “Stonemastery. Hastily done. Somebody’s been here before us. Not many years ago.”

“Alas,” said Scharr ben Fray, “another stonemaster walked in Inius Throan before us. He wanted to be the last.”

Cal-raven closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.

“It wasn’t me, Cal-raven.”

The king began to clear the smudge of stone with a swipe of his raw, aching hand. What he revealed was, indeed, a black plate that opened into a deep keyhole.

The mage’s smile faded. “That … that’s not right.” He placed his hand to the wall, his thumb and forefinger framing the broad slot. “It’s far too large for any of these keys. It’s a decoy. Or …” Then he flinched, visibly angry.

“Warney!” shouted the king.

The Gatherer was at his elbow in an instant.

“I need your sharp eye. Find me another keyhole. None of these keys will fit what we see here.”

Warney looked at the keys. He looked at the keyhole. “Beg to argue,” he said. “Specially with men so learned. You’re right—those keys’re too small for this lock. But Krawg’s taught me all about breakin’ in, beg your pardon. He knows every kind of lock, every kind of key. I’ve never seen puzzle keys before. But if you’ll give me just a few heartbeats …” He held up the keys and then, with a few quick twists, he tangled them so that they latched together, teeth flaring in different directions at the end of the interlocking rods. They fit the keyhole perfectly, and Warney turned them slowly, his eye widening in surprise.

“That,” sighed Scharr ben Fray, “was to be the king’s honor.”

Warney turned whiter than usual, but Cal-raven ignored the mage’s growl, pressing his hand to the plate and listening.

A few moments passed. Warney scratched his chin. He scratched his elbow. He scratched his hindquarters.

A distant
boom
echoed in the wall. The goats began screaming like men, then turned and rammed their horns against the canyon wall as if to bore themselves a cave. The wedge-shaped column of stone—the entire towering prow of the ship—began to rise, shaking rubble from the wall.

The travelers quickly retreated as a door the height of two men and the breadth of ten was revealed darkly before them.

Echoes reverberated beyond.

“What else did you find in that casket?” Cal-raven whispered. Scharr ben Fray beamed as if he had longed to savor this moment. “Welcome to Inius Throan.”

Cal-raven turned to Say-ressa. “Can Tabor Jan stand? I want my guardsman to be the first through this gate.”

Say-ressa nodded uncertainly. Then Cal-raven called for Jordam.

The beastman hesitated. Then, keeping a hand on Ryllion’s sleeve, he marched forward like a soldier with a captive. Ryllion kept his masked face downturned, deep in the shadows of his hood.

Scharr ben Fray leaned in close. “How long must I wait before you tell me about your … special guest?”

The mob was as silent as the stone of the canyon while the beastman and the stranger waited for the king’s instructions. Cal-raven scanned the audience. He saw Milora—that strange, secretive glassworker—and noticed tears on her face. Krawg stood beside her, wringing his hands. And there—Emeriene, clasping her sons’ hoods to keep them from running forward. She seemed especially curious about Ryllion, which is what he’d hoped to avoid.

I must get him safely locked away. We can’t have any revenge killings within these walls
.

“Jordam, you’re an honored guest in my house. In gratitude for all you’ve done to save House Abascar, I invite you to be the second through this gate. And you.” He spoke quietly into Ryllion’s hood. “You’ve yet to earn any honors. Take this as a gesture of trust.”

Ryllion nodded, seeming properly terrified.

“Teacher, follow them. Margi, Luci, and dear Cortie … you will be next. I will proceed behind with Krawg, House Abascar’s storyteller, on my right and sharp-eyed Warney on my left.”

Scharr ben Fray laughed, shaking his head. “As thoughtful as I remember. A man who would make signs of all things.”

“The rest can follow. The merchants and our guests from Bel Amica, you also are welcome. We will be a house with an open gate.”

“The viscorclaws will be so pleased,” said the mage, amused.

Tabor Jan approached crookedly, every step a test. The brace around his head was sturdy. He paused and clasped Cal-raven’s hand with his own. A tear slid down his face, but he would not meet the king’s eyes. Then he moved into the dark like a man carrying a burden far heavier than the brace.

Auralia covered her mouth to stifle a nervous laugh, delighted by the sounds beyond the gate. Every footfall echoed so that the company seemed to be welcomed with applause.

Then as her eyes adjusted to the dark space, she shuddered at the spectacle. Somber giants lined the walls of the long, narrow entry hall—armored men and women with their hands raised over their heads to grip the hilts of stone swords. Runes were faintly legible in the stone blocks that protruded beneath their feet.

“The children of Tammos Raak.” Scharr ben Fray dusted one of the blocks.

Roaches scuttled over the rubble-strewn, dropping-crusted floor. “Not my idea of a royal carpet,” grumbled Krawg, trying to stand on tiptoe.

Auralia was most delighted by the small, slender, redbrown climbers slinking
up and down the edges of the figures. “Zooey-cats,” she said. They peered down at the newcomers with eyes that mirrored orange torchlight, and they fitfully licked at their forearms in agitation before blurring into their burrows behind the statues’ shoulders. Far above the figures and their cat colonies, birds anxiously beat at the dusty, sky-lit heights as if trying to scare intruders away.

“Cwauba birds,” she whispered. “So this is where they come from.”

The stretch ended at the foot of a long, curving stair that ascended to heavy wooden doors, which were parted just enough for a man to slip through.

“This is good,” said the king. “Any invaders will be forced to move in a narrow parade.” He pointed to the burrows beyond the giants’ shoulders. “Archer points. Easy to pick off trouble from above.”