The web of wizardry (27 page)

The trail widened into a true road, and there were more and more villages. The path was beaten earth paved with chips of rock and broken brick taken from old farmhouses and the face of the river bluffs not far ahead. The comparatively smooth highway was a relief to many a driver whose wagons were being held together by little more than rope and curses. Now wheels rolled easier and men marched more quickly.

Bogotana and his demons no longer ruled. Here there were spring-planted fields green with new shoots of grain and pastures grazed by woolbacks and tame motge and roans. Youthful herdsmen tended the beasts, and they looked curiously at the army wagons. Danaer returned their scrutiny, recalling the taletellers' stories of Deki. At Nyald there were few tame motge. But Deki was an ancient city, and here the animals had been domesticated for generations. The herdsmen must drive them out to graze each day, then bring them back to pens near the city walls at nightfall, or perhaps into Deki itself, now that the threat of siege was near. The herds seemed smaller than he had expected, as if many animals had been culled already,

to feed a city feeling the hunger of diminished trade and approaching war.

There were few tents about, and no Zsed, just thatched huts made of bricks and quiet Httle farmers' villages. Deki's inhabitants were Destre who lived a life half nomad and half city-bound. Some still roamed out to hunt the Dekan lowlands, yet deemed themselves citizens, dwellers behind walls. Of late, it was doubtful many hunted at all. Markuand would force them ever more tightly within the security of their defenses. Deki's Siirn had long ruled from behind her gates.

The villagers and herdsmen were content to watch the passing caravan from a distance. They waved, not unfriendly, for they had heard of the new alliance. But they did not as yet trust their old enemies. A few young people decided to prove themselves and finally rode out to meet Danaer and his novices. The boys and girls looked over the three scouts rudely, giggling, and one exclaimed, "It is true. The Siun promised that the army was coming in force to Deki."

"Did you not believe Lorzosh-Fila, young warrior?" Danaer asked with a smile. None of them was above twelve summers, yet they wore weapons, as befit Destre youth; the knives and lances were castoffs, for the most part, but they flaunted them proudiyr The lances were sheathed, Destre style, under stirrup straps, and both boys and girls wore belt blade and boot knife and Dekan mantles. Rorluk and Xashe stared at them curiously, but the youths' attention was held by Danaer. They could not understand his uniform and his Destre ring and cloak. Danaer nodded and told them, "When Royal Commander Malol te Eldri says he will ride to the aid of his Destre aUies, he will keep that pledge."

Their laughter rang in the moist, heavy air and they chattered in thick Destre slang, further annoying the two soldiers from The Interior. Danaer glanced warningly at them as one of the girls boasted, "It is Argan who has wrought this miracle, through guiding her Siirn Rena. If Gordt te Raa did not permit it, you would never have crossed the Vrastre alive."

Danaer's comrades sulked while he traded banter

with the young ones, and at last they rode back to tend their herds. Despite their boldness, Danaer had noted their pinched faces and that ribs showed through their thin shirts. Hunger and siege had not quenched their spirit, however. Deki was the Zsed of Walls, and the courage of her people was a badge they might wear proudly.

Zsed of Walls, and The Entrance of Life, as the Ryerdon had called it when jfirst they looked west from this place, ere beginning their trek across the Vrastre. In the old language they had styled it te Vond ve Exis, and when Destre tribes came to rule the Vrastre, they did not abandon any of Deki's titles.

It was just past center-stand when Danaer saw the famous walls. Far in the distance, a gray expanse seemed to rise, beginning to fill half the horizon. Not too long after, Xashe and Rorluk also spotted the city, and gasped in wonder. Siank's walls were fragile, a glorification of the goddess formed of stone and paint, for Siank was an Azsed city surrounded by loyal Destre. But Deki was very ancient. For generations she had stood on the brink of Krantin and watched against invasion from once-mighty Traecheus. Her walls were no symbols, but the outer fortifications of a strong city. Deki guarded the river and ruled it, and faithfully protected those who had gone on across the Vrastre. Traecheus had crumbled into dust, never breaching Deki's walls, and Clarique had arisen from the chaos and learned to keep peace between the lands, to share the mighty river.

But Deki's walls must still stand firm, for another enemy was coming, one far more merciless and deadly than ever Traecheus had been. Te Vond ve Exis now must repel the invasion of Markuand, an assault of weaponry and wizardry most evil.

"How close are we, Troop Leader?" Xashe asked in awe.

Danaer squinted and held out his hand, measuring his fingers against the distance. "A candle-period. Perhaps a bit more."

"La! And already we must look up at those battlements!"

It was so. The city rose before them, growing, climbing skyward. Deki was their destination, the reason for the arduous journey.

The walls were uniformly gray and hung with gates of tremendous height and thickness. As a boy, Danaer had been enthralled by minstrels' stories of Deki and heard these walls and gates described. It was one thing to hear of walls so wide a wagon could drive atop them; quite another was it to behold those walls with his own eyes. And the gates! The trees which had birthed them must have been floated downriver from Irico, the fruit of the Death God's haven. Krantin in her earUest days had learned of Irico's matchless timber, and the northern axmen had been willing to trade for Krantin's bright new metals pried from the bowels of her mountains. It was fair trade. The trees were magnificent and the wood resisted rot most well; the metal was silver or the dark iron that Krantin's craftsmen forged into axes far harder than bronze, tools that would not blunt when the forest dwellers of Irico felled their towering trees.

Now Markuand wanted Krantin's metal and Irico's timber, and they were prepared to hurl magic and armies of silent, white-clad soldiers in countless numbers against Deki's walls to conquer both peoples.

The humidity of the lowlands diffused sunlight into a deceiving haze, but Danaer thought he saw some sort of official entourage gathering outside Deki's gates. He threw up his arm to signal the column to a halt, then told his apprentices, "Yistar will now pass the command for everyone to look his best. I hope you saved a clean shirt, as I bade you to ere we left Siank."

At the caravan, a great cacophony filled the air. Equipment clattered and horses whinnied and pawed restlessly, leather squeaked—all combining into great confusion. As Danaer had promised, Yistar's orders were runnmg through the column. Wagons wheeled into line more smartly than most had hoped. Units regrouped. Men sought out their kits and splashed water on dusty faces, brushing stained uniforms. They had been frugal with water, but now there would be plenty. Most of the troops had come from the moun-

tains of The Interior. They had spent their lives near castles and walled cities, and while the size of Deki's defenses impressed them, they looked upon this as a familiar thing, a city as it should be, not the anomaly Siank had been.

Order came into being surprisingly soon. Indeed, the command had been strengthened by ordeal. The losses had been hurtful, but Malol had tried to make allowances for such. Stock had died, wagons had been wrecked and abandoned along the way, and some men had sickened, though very few had died of sunstrokes or accidents. Despite natural hazards and wizardry, it was a far stronger force now than when the shambling company had left Siank garrison days ago.

Gordyan and his warriors came in to join the column, acting as honor guard for the entrance into Deki. Danaer was chasing a few scatterbrained conscripts past the head of the column when he heard Yistar bragging to Gordyan, "It may well be we have stolen a march. Lady Nalu says that General Ti-Mori holds fast with her army along the southern river. She has struck an alliance of her own with a Sarli brigand called Qhorda. And she said in her messages to Malol that we would never reach Deki in time to be of help! Ha!"

"A Destre warrior can cross the Vrastre in a five-day, easily," Gordyan said with a loud snort.

"He does not transport with him a wagon tram of supplies to relieve the siege of Deki."

Irrepressible, Gordyan grinned and said, "I know that, but still it is a good jest—to see Straedanfi being escort to a line of creaking wagons." He slapped his big thigh and guffawed. "Straedanfi, the terror of Kakyein's tribes—nursemaid to a bunch of carts!"

Yistar's red mustache bristled. "I do not think Lorzosh-Fila will begrudge the wagons' heaviness, though. And he may appreciate that we brought the caravan through nearly intact. Further, I intend to show him this is a fighting group of warriors, not a gaggle of drivers and plowboys."

Gordyan noticed Danaer and his conscripts going by and winked at him merrily. "Ai! Now to your true

work. You on the walls and my warriors on the northern bluffs to guard your flank. And I will match you —if my men do not please Siirn Lorzosh-Fila, I will set them to mucking the army's stables instead of fighting with me. Eh?"

"As may be," Yistar said gruffly, only partially mollified. He glanced at Danaer. "And what are you grinning at, you Nyald lizard-chaser?"

With some effort, Danaer swallowed his laughter. "I think a welcoming committee is approaching us, Captain."

"Mm? Very good! Lieutenant..."

"We will be ready." Branra's helmet dangled from his saddle, and as yet he made no move to don it. But the rest of his uniform was quite correct. As Yistar fretted among the other aides, Branra nodded to Danaer and said, "Notify Troop Leader Shaartre I will be wanting your units to lead off. You may ride with them now, for your task is well done." The warmth of Branra's tone was that of one soldier to another, a campaigner complimenting a comrade. Danaer gave him a sharp salute, then chased his conscripts where they belonged.

"There you are," Shaartre said when he reached their units. "Enough time gone, I must say." He swung around to bellow last-minute insults at the lines. "You have saddled those blacks Hke some fop's carriage team! Straighten up, there. And you, put that helmet on right!"

His apprentices had taken their places and Danaer had assumed his ordinary duties, seconding Shaartre in getting the men set at their best. Then he heard admiring whispers, the sounds soldiers made when looking at an attractive woman. Envying looks flicked toward him, and Danaer turned around quickly, sensing what he would see. Lira was riding along the column toward him. She had discarded the youth's uniform; her bright yellow gown was belted with a kirtle Danaer had not seen before, a narrow little band of leather adorned with chips of obsidian and copper. Her apprentice sorkra cloak, a dun color, not

Ulodovors dark brown, was flung loosely about her shoulders, stirring a bit in the breeze.

Danaer stepped away from the hnes to meet her, wishing they had more privacy. She leaned forward a bit and said softly, "I ... I wanted to see you before we enter the city." She seemed unusually hesitant, uncertain. Danaer noticed she had tried to disguise the pallor caused by her fatigue with touches of woman's paint. Her lips and cheeks were rosy, a false bit of color. Danaer wanted to say she needed no such shams to enhance her beauty.

"I must ride with Captain Yistar," she said. "See? He even brought along a noblewoman's sidesaddle for me to ride, and my little mare, so I can make a grand impression on the chieftains of Deki. He wishes me to represent all my Web." Her gaiety was as false as the paint, and Danaer felt the terrible fear that filled her being. Her voice lowered, barely audible, as she asked, "Do ... do you still wear the amulet of Rasven?"

He touched his breast and nodded, wishing he could forget the onlookers and speak freely. She was terrified! Of what? More magic?

"Perhaps it would be better if—^but no! You must keep it close with you—always." Lira sucked in her breath sharply. "Oh, Danaer, they are so powerful. He is so powerful. There is one wizard who rules them all, the Traech Sorkra thinks. He . .. you must promise you will never take the talisman off. Not for a moment."

Again he nodded, much disturbed. Lira said no more, but tugged the reins and loped back toward the head of the column. She left Danaer touched by a taint of dark things, a daunting reminder that in these matters he was helpless to protect her.

Branra approached them, and Shaartre and Danaer sat up straighter, awaiting his orders. The officer's black moved along easily, sure-footed and unlathered, proof of its rider's skill. Shaartre and Danaer jabbed heels in their mounts, edging them apart, leaving a gap into which Branra could ride. He smiled at the veteran's trick, acceptmg the invitation and stopping be-

tween them, "We move up, directly behind the Captain and the Dekan ofladals. Be grateful. This way we will not be eating wagon dust."

The Troop Leaders grinned at one another. Branra had adopted their units, and made no secret of it. The Lieutenant went on, "We get the chance to awe the citizens with our splendor. The Captain believes the spectators will grow bored and leave long before our more slovenly troops and rickety wagons pass through the gates. And our mounts will be the only ones stabled within Deki, rather than pastured out in the villages. Should the occasion arise, we will act as mounted couriers or escorts for dignitaries. It is unlikely that will be needed. However, bear well in mmd that having our horses close at hand also means we have a great advantage during a sudden retreat."

"Are we to expect retreat, my lord?" Shaartre asked with guarded politeness.

"Expect everything, and receive fewer surprises." Branra brushed patrician fingers over his sleeve, preening like a courtier. But his hands were soiled with honest dirt and scratched and scarred from labor and battle, like any common soldier's. He smiled benignly at the Troop Leaders and their units. "Look sharp, now. We will show Deki their walls will have fighting men to defend them now."