Cloak of the Two Winds (20 page)

"I had thought the time would have come by now," Karrol grumbled, this time in Iruk.

They marched on, passing the Bazaar of Fine Porcelain and the Gallery of Clocks, then turned down a side lane cluttered with stalls selling carved jade, glass cages with live butterflies, pots with singing flowers.

At last they reached the Jewelers' Walk, where the booths sparkled with silver, gold and gemstones arranged in locked cases. This section was heavily guarded and the patrolmen, with their truncheons and leather armor, kept a close watch on the barbarous, sword-bearing Iruks. Lonn and his mates did their best to appear innocent and nonchalant as they kept pace with the witch. Amlina walked with arms folded in sleeves, her visage alert, as if listening for something. She passed numerous stalls before stopping at one presided over by a man whose enormous belly was covered with heavy gold chains and necklaces. Glancing about, Lonn noticed the booth was out of the direct sight of any guardsman, though a half-dozen could come at once if summoned.

Amlina smiled at the jewel merchant and introduced herself as Soo Ang-Zinn of Clom Fei in Larthang. She explained that she had some pieces to sell, not ordinary jewelry but the artifacts of a witch.

"Their witchery means nothing to me," the dealer said as Amlina handed him her moonstone fillet. "I pay only according to their value as jewelry. The Street of the Magic Vendors is five bazaars north of here."

"I see." Amlina sounded downcast as she lay four etched silver bangles on the counter. "How much will you buy them for as jewelry?"

The fat man half-smiled as he appraised the bangles, then the fillet again. "Silver's rather a glut on the market right now. Gold and electrum are the fashion. The headband is fairly made, though this bit of firescale lowers its worth. The bracelets are commonplace. I can offer you forty ellas for the lot."

"But they are worth much more than that," Amlina said. "These stones are from the Liihan Mountains in western Larthang. Their sheen is unlike any other in the world."

Here Lonn noticed that Amlina's hand was removing an emerald ring from a case beside the dealer's chair. Her hand had reached right past the fat man, and he ought to have noticed. But his eyes remained locked with Amlina's.

"The sheen of the moonstones is unremarkable," he said.

The conversation continued in the same tenor, Amlina extolling the pieces of jewelry as persistently as the dealer demeaned them. They bargained for a price, but the Tathian would not go above fifty-five ellas nor Amlina below ninety. In the meantime, her hand sneaked past his considerable girth and picked up three more rings with faceted stones. Lonn recalled that the dealer had been arranging merchandise in that particular case when Amlina approached the booth. He realized it was the witch’s mental influence that had caused him to neglect shutting and locking the case.

"I believe I am wasting your time," Amlina said when she had pocketed the fourth ring. "Perhaps I will try the Street of the Magic Vendors after all."

"Sixty ellas," the dealer said with a yawn. "Final offer."

Amlina shook her head, took back her pieces and bid the man good day. The Iruks followed her to a booth on the other end of the bazaar, where she sold the four pilfered rings for one hundred ellas each.

"This sum should see us through our stay in Kadavel." She spoke quietly as they left the Jeweler’s Walk. "I'd rather not have to commit larceny more than once."

"But it was larceny so deftly committed," Draven laughed.

"I didn't know you had it in you," Lonn agreed. "I was convinced you meant to sell your own jewelry."

"Never," Amlina said. "These pieces are invested with my heart and mind."

The travelers proceeded west, past the Bazaar of Exquisite Perfumes and the Lane of Gilded Mirrors. Beyond the heavily-guarded Tables of the Money Changers, they skirted the northern portion of the huge Mart of Exotic Wines. A number of wine shops and cafes bordered here, and Amlina and the Iruks stopped at one. They munched on cheese and fresh bread and washed it down with mead from the Isle of Glistre—except for Amlina who drank only water.

Following the meal they continued west, passing bakeries and candy shops and the Bazaar of Rare Spices, and coming at last to the end of the Luxury Market. After descending the steps of a long colonnade they paused, standing beneath the sky for the first time since entering the city gate. The day had turned unnaturally dark, black clouds filling the sky and flashing occasionally with high lightning. The wind gusted sharply, and the Iruks secured their capes in front and pulled on their hoods.

Amlina peered into the entrances of the several streets that opened before them. At last she made up her mind and started across the open square.

Trudging behind her, Lonn and his mates entered a narrow street. Wooden buildings rose on either side, their upper stories leaning over the street and nearly touching in the middle. The street itself was also of wood, built on posts above the extensive marsh that underlay much of Kadavel. Only farther inland, toward the two acropolises, was the city built on solid ground.

Though it was the middle of the day only a few people passed by, hurrying along through the cold and dark. Amlina and the Iruks traversed a chandlers' quarter, then another neighborhood occupied mostly by butchers. They saw numerous inns and hostelries along the way, but Amlina insisted that none of them would do. For one thing she did not want to stay too near the Luxury Market, for fear the jewelry dealer might spot them again. More importantly, she had to find a favorable location for deepseeing. The place had to be relatively quiet and properly aligned with the patterns of force in the city.

"Each place has its qualities," the witch explained. "I must find one in harmony with our purpose."

She led them on, farther from the Luxury Market, around toward the waterfront again. Lonn caught glimpses of the city walls, and presently they turned into a wide street ending on one of the dragon gates. The chandlers' neighborhood had smelled of wax and perfumes, the butchers' of blood and offal. This street smelled of the sea and fish. Lonn's impression that they had come to a fishermen's quarter was confirmed by the shops, which specialized in nets and other gear, and by a sign on a building halfway down the block, which pictured a hook about to be swallowed by a moonfish.

"There." Amlina's voice had a note of certainty.

She led them to the door beneath the moonfish sign. Inside the vestibule they were met by a sharp-featured woman who looked them over guardedly.

"We require two private rooms," Amlina said. "The length of our stay is indefinite. I will pay you for the first ten days in advance."

"Well, for the six of you, with meals, the charge would be…say twenty ellas for ten days."

"You grossly overcharge." Amlina reached into her purse. "But my funds are ample, and I am not inclined to dicker."

She handed some silver coins to the old woman, who examined them dourly then placed them in her pocket.

"I have only one room upstairs at the moment," she said. "The others are off the common room."

"We'll take the one upstairs and one down," Amlina said. "Kindly show us the way."

"Very well." The landlady turned and led them down the short corridor. "I am Elzna, the owner here. Who are you, if I might ask? We don't see many of your sort in this district, that's for sure. Are you just in from the Shipway?"

"We arrived in the city this morning," Amlina answered. "My name is Olicia Wor-T’sing. I am a scholar from the Academy of Foreign Nations in Larthang. These are my porters and bodyguards."

"Bodyguards are they? And women too."

They were crossing the large common room, all of rough-hewn wood, with a round stone fireplace at the center. A number of couches and sleeping mats were spread near the fire, a few of them occupied with afternoon nappers. Off in the corner, a quiet game of bones and dice was in progress.

"What's your business here, if I may inquire?" Elzna said.

"I am here to study and write," Amlina explained. "Scholars are sent out by the Academy every 72 years to update our knowledge of the various civilized realms. That is my task in Kadavel. It requires that I have a quiet place to work and that my solitude go absolutely undisturbed."

"Solitude, is it? Well, it's mostly quiet here, but I can’t promise anything absolutely. These are unsettled times, you know. What with the winds in the harbor and rumors of invasion. Now this darkness in the middle of the day. Who knows what's going to happen next? I don't, that's for sure."

"So long as none of your tenants or servants disturb me," Amlina said, "I won't hold you responsible for cataclysm or war."

Perhaps a dozen private chambers bordered on the common room. The landlady opened the door to one of these and showed them inside. The room was furnished with two cots, a small table and an oil lamp. One shuttered window opened onto an alley outside, another opposite onto the common room. A wood stove in the corner provided heat. Amlina assigned this room to the Iruks. While they were settling in she asked Lonn to carry her bundle upstairs.

He and the witch followed the landlady back across the common room and up a flight of creaky steps to an upper gallery. Amlina's room was larger and better furnished than the one downstairs, with a big featherbed, a couch, and a writing table. There was also a chest for clothes, a woven rug on the floor and worn tapestries on the walls. The landlady opened the flue of the small fireplace and showed Amlina the cupboard where fuel and kindling were stored.

"I will hang my trinkets and began searching at once," Amlina said when Elzna had gone. "You and your companions rest tonight. And make sure that crone of a landlady feeds you well. I paid her far better than I had to."

"We know how to handle innkeepers," Lonn answered.

"Don't start any trouble," the witch warned. ''We must remain inconspicuous. But be alert. Keep an eye on who comes and goes, especially anyone who comes upstairs."

"Do you expect trouble here?"

"I'm not sure what to expect."

When Lonn had departed, Amlina shut and bolted her door, then went to unwrap her bundle. Murmuring prescribed verses, she unfolded the carefully-wrapped trinkets one by one. She attached the trinkets to silk cords and the cords to tacks. Standing on a chair, she stuck the tacks into the ceiling. She hung the trinkets in a prescribed arrangement—choosing in this case the
Hexagram within a Decahedron
as most auspicious to her purpose. She lit five lamps and placed them on the floor, measuring their distance from each other by counting finger-widths.

When this was done, Amlina prepared to enter trance. She sat cross-legged on the floor amidst her trinkets and lamps. She breathed deeply, stilled her body and mind. Slowly, she brought the shimmering globe of energy up her spine, to burst silently inside her head.

The portal to the Deepmind opened, but for a long time Amlina did not try to see. Instead she concentrated on surrounding herself with white light, the sparkling radiance of her protective aura. She watched the barrier growing brighter, until at last she believed it strong enough to protect her. Then she focused on extending the barrier to encompass the Iruks as well.

When at length Amlina was satisfied that her allies were as well protected as herself, she turned her attention outward, to seek the Cloak of the Two Winds. At once she was aware of the difference between this and the last time she gazed into the Deepmind. From on board the
Plover
the space of the Ogo had seemed relatively uncluttered. Inside the walls of Kadavel the Ogo teemed, multitudes of minds reflecting. Amlina perceived them as waves emanating from innumerable sources, clashing and mixing, disrupting her vision. She had known to expect this obstacle, having practiced deepseeing here and in other cities in the past. No doubt this was part of the reason she had been able to trace the Cloak to Kadavel but no farther. The normal confusion of the Ogo here would help conceal it. The only way to deepsee clearly here was to relax the will, let the mind ride the weltering currents until it became attuned to the chaos. This was what Amlina set out to do.

She opened her consciousness and the streams of impressions took her. She perceived the city as a gleaming maze of walls and spaces, spreading out from her in all directions. Beyond the maze on one side she felt the harbor, cold and frozen, yet tingling with captured energy. To the other side, farther away, she sensed massive rocks, the two acropolises, charged with telluric and human power.

Everywhere were sentient beings, a vast number of them. For a long time Amlina could only sense the confused clamor of those many separate minds. But at last the noise grew quiet, and she conceived of the many as unified—the collective mind of the city.

She allowed the collective mind to vibrate over her, drawing to herself its thoughts. In a flash she envisioned the common room downstairs, the tenants of the inn grouped around the fire, grateful for its warmth. She saw their empty dinner plates, felt the fullness in their stomachs. She experienced their cheerfulness as they drank and conversed, their curiosity over herself and the Iruks. Beneath lay dimmer emotions, mostly repressed: unease at the ominous weather, the strange portents in the harbor and sky. Amlina's awareness flowed outward then, tasting these same emotions across the city—the abiding fear that had come to dwell constantly in people's hearts.

Conceiving the expanse of that fear, Amlina shivered. Next instant, an image of Beryl flicked into her mind. She viewed the Archimage's familiar countenance for a moment, then instinctively sought to turn away. To that image, she knew, her mind must not be open.

But Beryl's face would not disappear. It hung before Amlina, growing more distinct. Sensing her danger, Amlina touched the moonstone fillet and pictured white radiance pouring out to envelop her.

Beryl's image faded behind the barrier of light, but did not dissolve. The green eyes glared, piercing the barrier, wilting Amlina's concentration.

Suddenly the face caught fire, bursting into a dazzling mask of orange flame. The flame burned through Amlina's aura, heated the skin of her eyelids. Then she heard Beryl’s whisper.

"Little Larthang, I have found you."

Amlina opened her eyes, yanked from her trance by terror. The flaming mask hovered before her, as real in the room as the trinkets and lamps. Amlina glimpsed two disembodied hands, fiery orange like the mask, reaching for her.

She tried to jump up and flee but the hands seized her throat, forcing her to sit. The fire burned her neck, but not unbearably. The grip was tight, but not yet a choking grip.

"They are Gloves of Far Reaching," Beryl said, "devised by the priests of the Star Gods in Tallyba to strangle sacrificial victims. The mask is a complementary trinket of my own design. Did you think I had shown you all my secrets, little fool?"

Amlina sought to pry the gloves from her neck, but their fire intensified, scorching her flesh. She tried to strike Beryl's mask, but her hands only swiped weakly then dropped—Beryl's will numbing her will even as Beryl's eyes bored into her mind, searching, reading.

"You've lost the Cloak. I knew this already. Ignorant little Larthang, did you really think you could hold it? Reveal to me all you know of the Cloak. Do not try to conceal, it is useless."

Even as she heard those words Amlina felt the core of her mind break open to Beryl's probing.

"You know little more than I," Beryl said at length. "The Cloak is somewhere in Kadavel, probably close to this Iruk woman. I have sensed the hand of another wielding the Cloak's power, disrupting the Ogo about this city. He is stealthy in his designs, this one. I've glimpsed him only briefly. But I will discover him in the end…"

Pursuing this chain of thought the Archimage had allowed her grip to loosen, all but forgetting her former apprentice. Desperately, Amlina seized the chance.

Her hands shot up, palms covering Beryl's eyes. By the power of
pure shaping
, Amlina sent bolts of pain through those eyes into Beryl's brain. The fiery gloves let go of her throat and moved to clutch her wrists. Amlina eluded them and flung herself aside.

Staggering to her feet, she fled across the chamber, screaming for the Iruks to help her.

Ghoulishly, the disembodied mask and gloves gave chase.

One burning hand gripped Amlina's sleeve and set it smoldering. But Amlina tore free and reached the door. She flung back the bolt and pulled the door open, shrieking again for the Iruks, just as Beryl caught her from behind.

Lying in bed but not yet asleep, Lonn and his mates heard Amlina scream. At once they jumped from under the covers. Wearing their deerskin garments they rushed from the chamber, each pausing only to grab a sword or spear.

With Draven in the lead, they ran across the fire-lit common room, where most of the patrons were up and looking about in confusion. Lonn heard Amlina scream again as they dashed up the steps, knocking aside the landlady who had started up with a lantern to investigate.

A couple of tenants from nearby rooms had reached Amlina's door already. They stood at the threshold, staring inside, dumbfounded. Lonn and Draven shoved them out of the way and started into the room.

But what they saw caused even the Iruks to pause—Amlina being strangled by a pair of flaming hands, a flaming face above, and nothing more.

Unnerved for a moment, Lonn and Draven gathered their wits and charged.

The mask looked up and saw them coming. The gloves whipped Amlina about like a doll and flung her against the legs of the onrushing Iruks.

Lonn and Draven stumbled over the witch and fell in a tangle. Behind them, Brinda and Karrol had to lurch aside. From the rear Eben threw a spear.

One of the gloves swept out, leaving a trail of flame. Eben's spear followed the glove's gesture, changing its path in mid-flight to stick harmlessly into the wall.

The mask tilted back and laughed with mockery. "How puny and inept are your bodyguards. How well they suit you, little Larthang."

Amlina's robe smoldered, emitting black smoke. Draven beat on the silk with his palms to put out the fire. The other Iruks scrambled up and went after the flaming apparition.

But before they could reach it the gloves floated up, touched the mask and pulled it forward. Next instant the mask was gone.

"I will return for you, Amlina," the voice called from nowhere. "Know that and live in fear."

The Iruks hacked and thrust at the gloves, nearly striking each other in their fury. But the flaming hands floated high, avoiding their weapons. Then one glove gripped the fingers of the other, pulled them forward, and that glove disappeared.

"And if you chance to see the Cloak, little Larthang, think of me. You
will
think of me."

Mocking laughter answered the Iruks' grunts of frustration as the last glove was removed by an unseen hand. Then a strange wind filled the chamber, shaking the desmets and tapestries. Together the wind and laughter seemed to recede into distance, leaving a brittle stillness.

The Iruks looked at one another in bewilderment and unreleased rage. Amlina lay quivering on the floor, face hidden by her hands. Her sleeve was black and tattered and some of her hair had been singed. Lonn could see blisters rising on her neck.

Kneeling beside the witch, Draven put a hand on her shoulder. "Amlina, it's over now. The thing is gone."

"Who was it?" Eben demanded. "Or what?"

"It was Beryl," Amlina cried, then collapsed into pitiful weeping.

The Iruks could not quiet her. They had never expected to see the witch so completely unstrung. It disrupted their own confidence even more than had the fiery apparition.

"Leave me alone," Amlina cried. "Leave me."

Draven, anguished worry on his face, motioned his mates to join him at the door. A crowd of tenants had gathered outside, watching in mute amazement.

"I'll stay with her," Draven said. "The rest of you break up this crowd of gawkers, then get some sleep."

Lonn and the others nodded gravely. Karrol glanced disapprovingly at Amlina's shuddering form, then pushed out through the doorway. Lonn, Eben, and Brinda followed, shut the door, and dispersed the onlookers.

"What is it? What’s happened?" Elzna the landlady strained to see at the rear of the crowd.

"It’s all over," Lonn told her. "Everyone can go back to sleep."

Away from the mazy cluttered streets of the harbor district, beyond the dryland quarters where the wealthy dwelt in their mansions and villas, past the guild halls and government buildings, upon the very tip of the High Acropolis, stood the Palace of the Prince-Ruler of Kadavel, currently occupied by one Hagen of the House of Hessilan.

On this night, near midnight or just after, Hagen sat in a brightly glowing hall high in an upper story of his palace. The Prince-Ruler was medium-sized, brown-haired and bearded, firmly muscled under the maroon and purple velvets he wore. His mouth was stern and his eyes brooding—although he was surrounded by a scene of riotous gaiety.

Princes and retainers in brocaded jerkins stood about or reclined on couches, laughed and wagered, drank sweet mead from enameled goblets, pawed lovely courtesans in low-cut gowns.

The central attraction in this hall full of merriment stood on an iron pedestal in front of Hagen's chair—a miniature arena six feet in diameter. Inside the arena tiny chariots raced round and round, drawn by tiny wolf-steeds, and inch-high gladiators with pins for spears fought dragons the size of human fingers.

Not the dragons nor the wolves nor the gladiators were real. All were illusions generated by the witchery of the arena. This witchery operated with a kind of intelligence, so that the contests were never repeated or predictable. Hagen had captured this Arena of Illusions in a naval raid against the island of Gon Fu. It ranked among his chief amusements, but tonight it could not divert the Prince-Ruler from his glum preoccupations: the evil portents in the city, the Archimage's fleet at sea.

Abruptly the shouting and laughter grew quiet. Looking up, Hagen noticed a woman standing at the far entryway. She had made no sound, yet her very presence had drawn the attention of everyone in the hall. She stepped forward, and Hagen found himself transfixed by her shining eyes.

Could it be?
he wondered.

The woman was tall and slender, beautiful with a strange, unmanning beauty. Her blue fur coat, open in front, revealed numerous necklaces, a golden girdle, a dagger in a ruby scabbard. Her white and gold tunic and elaborate feathered headpiece were obviously Nyssanian. But her delicate features and pale skin spoke of noble Larthangan blood.

It must be
, Hagen thought.

The intruder walked a straight path across the hushed and crowded hall, servants and aristocrats alike stepping back to give her way. As she came near, Hagen spied a movement about her bosom. A small monkey-like creature with a long tail and a hairless, human head crept out of the woman's collar to sit upon her shoulder. The courtesans let out fluttery sounds of surprise and disquiet. The retainers murmured nervously. The appearance of the treeman, as the half-legendary beast was called, quashed Hagen's last doubt of the woman's identity.

"I am Beryl Quan de Lang, Archimage of the East, Queen of Tallyba, Empress of Far Nyssan." She faced the Prince-Ruler above the Arena of Illusions. "Don’t fault your sentries, my lord. Their vigilance is adequate. I simply darkened their minds as I passed. I have a matter of importance to discuss with you—if you will pardon my abrupt entrance."