The Malmillard Codex (12 page)

Madryn and Val were in the last boat.
Madryn's eyes were fixed on the shore behind them.

Val knew she still hoped for a glimpse of a
huge black horse.

***

The trip from the wreck site took two days.
Captain Zenobio was right again, his navigation skills as accurate
as he'd promised. Late on the second day, the thickly settled
shores of the trading capital of Lakazsh D'Nali came into view.

The city of Lakazsh, capital and main port
of the mighty land, was as different from Karleon as it was
possible for a city to be. Through its center, long broad streets
paved with flat stones bisected the city into huge squares,
thronged with elegant houses and tree-filled gardens. Near the
bustling harbor, littered with ships, the streets were narrower,
though still paved with the same wide block of gray stone. Nobles'
carriages pulled by teams of matched horses shared road space with
less elegant equipages hauling high-stacked piles of cargo to the
great marketplace at the north end of the metropolis.

Madryn had been here before; it was evident.
Val scrambled to keep up with her as she walked down a lane leading
away from the harbor. They crossed streets, passed businesses,
glanced at shops, and all the while Val thought how familiar was
this city that he had never visited.

But he had visited it, he realized—only not
as Valerik the slave. No, not he, but Lord Valaren Starseeker had
once been a denizen of these teeming streets, these elegant
houses.

Madryn paced on her long legs as if she were
late for a most important appointment. Val kept up, though his
equally long legs were soon aching, grown soft after their two lazy
days at sea. He noted, with little surprise, that they were on
their way to the southernmost gate in the city walls, the gate
called Obsidian. Just outside Obsidian Gate, Val knew without quite
knowing how, the caravan was gathered for its yearly trek to
Rinidia and Catalafl, ending its journey at Zamorna in the
foothills of the Janus Ridge, that range of mountains that faced
and defended the barren icy wastes of the southernmost lands.

"I'm not forcing you to go with me, you
know, Val," Madryn told him the day before, as their rescue ship
sailed into view of the vice-ridden harbor of Lakazsh. "You've
saved my life more than once. Anything I did for you, you've
repaid. And this trip…is bound to be dangerous."

Val looked down at her clever brown fingers
lying against the swollen wood of the ship. "You told me once that
you had need of me," he pointed out, looking away from those
fingers and out toward the fast-approaching city. "That cannot have
changed, whatever I've done to help you. I won't leave you
now."

No, he wouldn't…couldn't leave her now. Val
had learned from his dreams many things about Lord Valaren
Starseeker—and one important thing about himself. Living the life
of a man used to commanding, Val realized that he had always had
someone to give him orders. Now, when he at last had the chance, he
would make his own decisions.

Madryn closed her fingers into a tight fist.
"I will see that you get enough gold to take you wherever you wish
to go," she continued as if Val had not spoken. "It will take some
few days, as I lost most of what I had with me in the shipwreck.
But it is the least that I can do. No one will look for an escaped
slave here. You could set up as a merchant… or buy a gladiator
school of your own."

"No," Val laughed. The very idea was
ludicrous. "Not a gladiator school. Spare me that, at least."

"Something else, then," Madryn insisted. "I
owe you."

"If you feel you owe me…then tell me where
you're going, and why."

"I can't, Val," Madryn said with a helpless
shrug. "I can't."

"You said before that you needed my
help."

"No. I see now that it's something that I
must do, but—"

"Then," he interrupted, "its something we
both must do. I'm going."

Val tried to decipher the look that filled
her eyes, before she hooded them and turned away.

He was sure he had seen that look before,
but he could not remember where or when.

They were
lucky. They had made it just in time. The caravan would be ready to
leave in two days.

"You cut your time very close," growled the
caravan master as Val and Madryn walked beside him down the long
line of wagons. Master Aubry's rust colored hair was tied into a
multitude of plaits and shone with grease; his traveling robes were
sleek and elegant, of the finest and thinnest silk, dyed in a blaze
of contrasting colors. He strode along like a king, tossing
comments to first one and then another of the travelers he passed,
tapping all the while with the tip of a braided whip against the
side of his bright red boots.

Madryn and Val matched Master Aubry pace for
pace as he marched past the endless lines of horses and mules,
camels and dromedaries, elephants and oxen, all staked out near the
conveyances they would be dragging across the desert for the next
four moons.

"We're leaving at dawn, day after tomorrow,"
continued Master Aubry in his low, gruff voice. "You have just time
enough to arrange for horses or camels, but I seriously doubt that
there are any decent ones left in the city. If you indeed cannot
find any, perhaps there are some travelers that might have room for
you in their carts. How far did you say you were going?"

"We didn't," said Madryn.

"Well, you'll go until you decide to stop,
no doubt, as others do," said the master as he stopped to flick his
whip against the back of a sluggard slave.

Val winced at the sound the leather made
against bare skin.

"The cost to accompany the caravan is four
gold pieces—each," continued Master Aubry.

Val watched as the master cast a faint,
sneering glance from under his lashes at Madryn's fine but worn
clothing, Val's nondescript attire, and their boots, all of which
had seen better days.

"Payable in advance," concluded the
master.

"That will present no problem, Master
Aubry," Madryn agreed, "but, as you so rightly point out, horses
and pack animals may. Perhaps you, with your widespread
connections, might be able to offer us some help?"

Master Aubry shrugged noncommittally. "It is
possible. But the prices for what decent animals remain, at this
late a date, may prove to be a bit steep."

Madryn nodded. "Of course. But they do
exist?"

"Almost anything can be had in Lakazsh, for
enough coin," agreed the master.

Val cleared his throat, and the other two
stopped to look at him. "What reports of bandits this year,
master?" he asked.

A boy laden with a bale of cloth half his
size scurried by, kicking up a cloud of gritty dust. A camel
sneezed, showering all its neighbors with spittle.

Master Aubry eyed Val with the smallest
possible increase in respect. He tapped one boot top with the tip
of his whip. "Bandits are always a problem, sir," the master
admitted at last. "Bandits or sand, which is thicker in the
southern deserts, as the old saying has it. Why do you ask,
lord?"

Val shrugged and cast a quick glance at
Madryn, to see if she had taken note of his sudden advancement
rank, before continuing. "Just that four gold coins is a large
price to ask of two who can offer their swords to your own, no
doubt, plentiful protection?" he inquired innocently.

Master Aubry looked at his two companions
with consideration in his squinting eyes. A tall lean woman, with
an air of competence. A taller muscular man, with a face that
looked as if it had had its fair share of disagreements. And both
of them with swords that hung ready at hand, and that they treated
with quiet familiarity.

"An interesting idea, sir," said Master
Aubry, rubbing his chin. "Let us discuss it at my inn over supper,
shall we?"

***

The super was a long and wet one, floating
on a sea of wine. Along with Val, Madryn and the Master, there were
several other members of the caravan: stout merchants, sleek
mercenaries and elegant nobles, all thrown together by their need
or desire to travel south. Many bottles were broached, many
bibulous reminiscences were shared, before the final toast was
drunk and the revelers staggered off to their beds.

Val and Madryn wandered through the streets
towards the minute caravanserai where they'd obtained a room.
Already, there was a faint gleam in the eastern sky; morning was
not far off.

"Very good work indeed, Val," Madryn said,
sidestepping a hooded figure huddled beside the roadway. "I was
worried I'd have to steal enough to pay our way. Now that you've
found positions for us, I won't have to be bothered, nor wait for
some money to be sent, either. It would never arrive in time."

Val gave a short bark of laughter at the
image of Madryn as a burglar.

"You may well laugh, sir," she agreed as
they turned a corner. "It's been so long since I stole anything
that I'd probably be caught at once. I could hardly go to…to Zamora
with a slave collar around my throat, now could I?"

A tiny figure, unnoticed by either of them,
paced them step for step, bare feet silent on the pavement.

"No," agreed Val, "you couldn't. But now
you're a caravan guard, with your own tent and two horses and your
way paid in full."

"And so are you," Madryn said, giving the
coins in her belt a rattle; they gave back a satisfying clink.

Madryn was just the faintest bit unsteady on
her feet—the wine had been as potent as it had been plentiful.

"You should be proud. You've gone from
escaped slave to guard in…in…well, in quite a short time."

The figure behind them stopped, as if
considering the words just spoken, then followed them in continued
silence.

"Even I'm impressed," slurred Val, giving an
answering clink of his own money pouch. "After this, who knows what
else I can become?"

They wandered a bit further along the dark
street.

"Val?" asked Madryn after a time.

"Yes?"

"We're lost, aren't we?"

"I believe," Val said, trying to stifle a
burp, "that we are."

A rush of feet behind them pattered like
rain across the cobblestones. An instant later, they were
surrounded by an array of dark, dimly discernable figures. A glint
of steel, the rattle of metal as daggers were drawn, then a soft
voice said, "Give us your money and we'll let you live."

"Val," said Madryn, "I do believe we're
being robbed." There was no trace of drink in her voice or
stance.

Instantly sober as well, Val jerked his own
sword into view.

"You said they were falling-down drunk,"
complained that same soft voice, pitched a bit higher this
time.

"They were," whined another squeaky voice.
"I've been following them all day."

"Your money, and we'll leave you in peace,"
ordered the first voice, careful this time to pitch itself low and
menacing.

Madryn's sword appeared beside Val's,
shimmering in the faint reflected glow of the sickle moon overhead.
The two could hear a low-voiced argument all about them, as they
set back-to-back, swords held breast high.

"What don't you understand about the term
'unarmed'?"

"I tell you, they were drunk."

"We'll have to take their money by force,
then."

"Look at them." This voice was thick with
dismay. "Look at those swords!"

"Well, you've got a blade too…don't
you?"

"A blade, certainly, and it's quite as long
as my hand, you great fool!"

Amazed, Val heard—and felt—Madryn laughing
behind him.

"Llar Zhan?" she asked.

Val heard consternation all about them.

"What did she say?"

"She called the name, you fool!"

"Tell the world, why don't you?"

"Well, it
is
the name, isn't it? And
she did say it, didn't she?"

"Yes, you booby, but it's not for such as
she
to say, is it?"

"Aye, look at her sword. She's no Llar Zhan,
that's apparent!"

Madryn sheathed her sword. "Strike a light,
gentlemen and ladies, I pray you," she asked politely.

After some further bits of bickering, a
lighted lantern appeared from beneath a shrouding cloth. Its dim
rays were almost as bright as daylight in the dark street; they
illuminated a band of ragged urchins, ranging in size from waist
high to Val, on up to nearly Madryn's lanky height.

"I thought so," Madryn laughed. "Llar Zhan,
for all the world. What inestimable luck. I had no idea that the
ancient order had spread as far south as Lakazsh. Where's your
master, children?"

The tallest of the group puffed out his puny
chest and replied, with the greatest dignity, "We are not children.
We are here to rob you and cast your lifeless bodies into the
ditches, for the streetcleaners to find on the morrow."

"Yes, I know," Madryn nodded. "You sound
most impressive, and I'm very frightened, I do assure you. But
you're Llar Zhan and I'd be pleased to meet your master."

A rustle of discussion rose like crickets on
the night air.

"She knows of Llar Zhan!"

"Who in all the world does not, you great
booby!"

"No one in Lakazsh, for starters."

"Doesn't this mean we have to kill
them?"

"Kill them with what?"

"Enough," said Madryn, as the bickering
showed no sign of conclusion. "Take us to your master. Now."

***

"How good it is to meet an old student of
the great Llar Zhan," said the soft-spoken gentleman; he smiled at
her as at a long-lost friend, his white curls bouncing in glee. He
pressed Madryn's hands between his own, then released them and
offered a frail hand to Val.

"Not at all, sir. It is an honor and a
pleasure to be in your presence, lord," replied Madryn with a low
bow. "If I had known that Llar Zhan was here in Lakazsh, I would
not have been so concerned about affording a place in the
caravan."