Dragon Heart (15 page)

He was not sinking anymore, just buried to his armpits, his hands raised above his head. His feet had reached the bottom of the loose sand. Jeon fired an arrow at him; the range was way long and the arrow jittered into the surf. Below him, a bellow went up that stood every hair on his body on end.

The Imperial pikemen were retreating. The townspeople were swarming over the driftwood wall, and the Imperials were backing up. They stood shoulder to shoulder, their pikes leveled before them, but they were edging their way down toward their commander. The horn blew again, calling them, and they broke into an awkward trot. Jeon slung his bow on his back and started down off the ledge.

*   *   *

Amillee shrieked. They were running, they were running away—she scrambled up over the trampled crushed driftwood heap in front of her. She thought of her mother and turned as Lumilla, panting, struggled up beside her. All around them the rest of the townspeople had come over the wall, jeering, waving their arms over their heads. Amillee ran a few steps after the soldiers.

“Run away, babies—run!”

Her voice was lost in the yelling of the others; the soldiers were backing away down the sand, and nobody got near the tips of the pikes aimed straight at them. Amillee bent, found a stone, threw it. “Babies!” Lumilla was laughing. Amillee threw her arms around her and danced.

“We won! We won!”

The pikemen had moved down the beach almost to the edge of the damp sand. The horn blew again, a brassy crow call, piercing even the yells and screeches of the crowd. The pikemen stopped and wheeled neatly into a single rank, facing the crowd behind the fence of their leveled blades. The crowd hooted and threw rocks and bits of driftwood.

Abruptly they all stopped. Luka was walking out into the space between them and the Imperials. Amillee let out a cheer that emptied her lungs, part of a deafening roar that rose from the rest of the people. Luka raised a hand to them, gestured to them to sit, to rest; he gave them a broad smile, and thrust up his fist over his head, and they cheered him again. He turned toward the soldiers, standing there motionless. Amillee sat where she was, beside Lumilla, all her people around her, her eyes fixed on Luka, her prince of the sea, who had made her a hero.

*   *   *

Luka stood silent a moment, looking over the men before him. He could see beyond the pikemen to where Broga was stuck in the sand. Two men were trying to reach him, but the distance was too far.

“Broga!” Luka called. “Give up, and I'll help you get out of there.”

Broga was trying to force his way through the wet sand, but the more he struggled the harder it gripped him. He gave a breathless yell.

“Hold them off, Commander—I'm getting out by myself—”

The two men trying to rescue him joined hands, and one stepped cautiously out onto the sand, stretching his forward arm toward Broga. The sand took him up to the knee. He crept out another step, this leg going in to midthigh, and the man behind him sank to his knees; Broga strained and pawed the air and their fingertips glanced together.

“You're outnumbered!” Luka called. “Now you've got your backs to the sea, with the tide turning. Lay down your arms. I can get you out of this.”

Just behind Luka, Jeon said under his breath, “Leave him there.”

“No!” Broga shouted. “Get a rope.”

A wave rolled up the beach and splashed around Broga's head. Luka was smiling; he said nothing. He cast a quick glance behind him. His brother was there, with his bow, scowling at him. On the dry sandy slope beyond, the army of Undercastle was setting up camp. Everybody had something to eat. Lumilla had brought ale in a skin bag and was filling everybody's cup. Suan the baker's apprentice had blood all over her face and one of the weavery sisters was helping her clean herself up. Aken's boy Mika sat slumped by his father, one arm slack. Mika's face was black-and-blue, his eye swelling shut. Luka wondered if anybody had died.

He turned to glare at Broga again. Another wave came up, and for a long moment Broga's head disappeared into the rolling, sand-filled foamy surf. Behind him a horse neighed and another of the trapped men yelled, “Help!” Broga's sodden head emerged from the wave, his mouth gulping for air.

“We can wait,” Luka said, and sat down on his heels.

 

7

Tirza walked slowly around the chamber, looking at each of the niches. Most of the people in them were sleeping. Her great-grandfather Obro lay on his back, his eyes open, looking up. He did not notice her. She imagined he was thinking about some deep past, more real to him than now. She wondered what could matter to him, who had been dead a hundred years.

Maybe it was all the same; maybe that was what death was, the end of time, and it all ran together, the same.

Behind her, by the lamp, Casea said, “If they can't find us, they can't use us against Luka. I say we go on out to the town and hide there.”

Mervaly said, “We should find out what's going on first.” She looked around at the chamber. “It's so annoying being boxed in like this.”

Tirza's stomach growled. She was more concerned now with finding something to eat. She went on around the room, slowly, looking into each face: her mother would be here, somewhere, if not in this room, another.

“My birds,” Mervaly said. “And this is our home. Papa left this in our care. It would be like killing him again.” Tirza came closer, and her sister reached out and took her by the sleeve. “What do you think?”

Tirza shrugged; she had no idea what to do now. She patted her stomach.

“Yes,” Casea said, “we have to find something to eat. And it will be cold here tonight.” She was getting up. “But they'll be looking for us.” She nodded heavily to Mervaly. “So we have to be careful. Stay in the walls. Don't go back to our room, whatever you do. Stay out of reach.”

*   *   *

Up in a high chamber of the old tower, long unused, stuffed with discarded gear, Tirza found shawls and fur robes, and she went and brought Mervaly to help her carry them. On the way back to their hideout, they came to the big, round room where all the towers met, which was full of Imperial men. The only hidden passage moved along the edge, just inside the wall. The voices of the Imperial men came humming through the rock.

The passage forked, one side going down and the other opening onto the stairway up to the south tower, where the sisters had lived. Tirza went straight toward the downward way, but Mervaly stopped, and dumped her load of furs onto the floor. “You go ahead; I want to see about something.”

Her arms full of musty sea otter, Tirza wheeled and stared at her. Tirza's first thought was that someone would hear them and the second that Mervaly was making a mistake, and she shook her head hard at her.

“Don't argue with me,” Mervaly said. “Go back. I'll be right there.”

Tirza said, “No, don't. Please.”

“Ssssh! You sound like a bear.” Mervaly pushed her away. “I'm your oldest sister. Do as I say.” She backed up a step, toward the open stairway behind her. Tirza stood motionless, watching. Mervaly went quickly around the corner and up into the tower, out of sight.

*   *   *

It would only take a few moments. She would feed the birds and bid them fly away. Otherwise they would wait for her; they would suffer. Mervaly slid through the wall into her room.

The seagull rose off the sill, screaming at her, flapping its wings, circled her head, and all around the other birds screeched and fluttered, a deafening cacophony, a mad glitter of eyes. The owlet even woke to screech at her. She laughed. She imagined what had happened when the Imperials burst in, how the birds would have greeted that. She crossed the room toward the bin where she kept their food in crocks, saying, “You must all go, at once; we are—” And one step before she reached the bin, her foot struck against something on the floor and a net fell from the ceiling all around her.

The birds hushed at once. Too late, she saw they had been trying to warn her. She twisted around, toward the wall, thinking surely Tirza had not abandoned her, had followed her, would save her now. And there Tirza was, in the stone, but even then the door burst open, three soldiers rushed in, and Tirza vanished.

*   *   *

Casea had found bread and cheese and a ewer of wine, and they sat together in the room of the dead, wrapped in the old fur robes and picking morosely at the food. The lamp spread its steady green light around them. It was probably still night but perhaps not. Tirza was worn down and wanted to sleep and she leaned on Casea, who put her arm around her.

“We have to find Mervaly,” Casea said. “We can't just leave her with them.”

Tirza yawned. She wondered where Mervaly was; remembering the net falling on her made Tirza shudder. She was more afraid of Oto now, who had done that, and she hated him.

“But we have to be careful. We can't let them catch us all,” Casea said. “I wish I knew what Luka is doing.”

Tirza straightened up, awake again, thinking of Jeon also. She said, “They will come back.” Her voice made groans and barks.

Casea said, “I think one of us should go to find him.” She hugged Tirza against her. “And the other go keep watch on Mervaly, somehow.”

Tirza moved her head a little, where it rested on Casea's shoulder, nestling in. She saw the edge of a story, how a Princess became an outlaw and rescued her two sisters. But Tirza could only tell it to herself; Casea was out of reach, and Casea had already made up her mind.

“I'll go find Luka,” Casea said. “You find Mervaly.” She began to settle herself in the rugs of fur, holding Tirza against her, so when they were both lying down Tirza was in Casea's arms. “After we get some sleep.”

Tirza stiffened, resisting that; she had the story now, even if it was different. But Casea stroked Tirza's face again. “Sleep. Sleep.” Tirza yawned, and shut her eyes.

*   *   *

When Tirza woke, Casea was already on her feet, shaking out her crumpled skirts. “It's daylight now,” Casea said, although Tirza did not see how she knew that. “I'm going to find Luka. You must look for Mervaly and stay near her.” Casea raked her thick red hair back, and tied it in a knot at the nape of her neck. “But don't get caught.” She bent, and placed a kiss on Tirza's forehead. “Be careful. I'll come right back.” She went off across the chamber, and disappeared into the wall.

Tirza folded her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. She wished she knew what to do. In the niches all around her the old ones slumbered, or stared, or smiled to themselves; not one of them would do anything to help her.

She bit her teeth together, angry. There had to be a way to make them help her. If she knew the right words, surely she could summon them. She struggled to imagine them bound to her will, an army of the dead. Maybe if she made a story about them she would discover what she needed to know to command them.

Her mind slipped, reversing that. They had come first. They had always been here. Maybe they were making up a story about her.

That bothered her and she pushed it away. Now she did not want them to help her. Suddenly she felt better. She got up and began to look for Mervaly.

*   *   *

The long wind off the sea raked the grass back on the top of the cliff. Dawd grounded his pike and stared down the path toward Undercastle. The sun was well up now, but the beach was still in shadow; from high up here, he could see the whole town, and the quiet startled him.

“Where are they? It's full daylight; they should be busy down there.”

Marwin took a long drink from his water skin. “Inside. Hiding.” He slapped the cork into the skin's mouth.

“Then where is the Lord Broga?”

“Out there, somewhere.” The corporal waved a hand vaguely to the south. “He'll be here soon, and these bumpkins will never know what hit them.” He chuckled, and stretched. “Still, now that I'm off duty, I would like to go down to that alehouse.”

“Go back to the castle.” Dawd was searching the beach with his eyes. The place was quiet, the four boats drawn up on the shore, the space empty where usually the awnings of the shops flapped. But there came an old woman trudging up from the stream, hauling a bucket, and some small children were playing near the cypress. They were certainly not hiding. And Broga had left almost a day ago: he should have shown up by now. Then, from the near end of the beach, from the shadow of the castle, a woman walked along the sand.

Dawd knew her at once, her way of walking, the carriage of her head, the color of her abundant hair. He glanced around at Marwin, who was packing up his gear. His squadron was already lined up on the road to the castle, waiting for him. Dawd moved, drawing the attention of his men away from the beach, and began to give orders, so they would not see the Princess Casea, sauntering off along the edge of the surf.

It struck him this was disloyalty, probably even treason of some kind. He could not do otherwise. Betraying her was worse. The uneasy feeling in his belly deepened into a sour gripe. He was a soldier. He was supposed to obey orders. He went in among his men to tell them where to stand, what to do, who could not decide himself where he stood or what he should do.

*   *   *

Tirza could not find Mervaly. In the great hall Tirza saw no one except a few men trying to build a wall across the edge of the terrace. The birds were still flying in and out of the window of the sisters' room at the top of the south tower, but she saw no sign that Mervaly had been there since the net fell on her. Tirza went in and tipped over the jars of food, so that the birds could eat when they willed.

She went up and down the walls until there was nowhere left to look except the new tower.

She avoided the new tower, with its smell of stone dust and its blank walls. She had always hated it. Where its stair rose from the round antechamber, a fingertip's width of a gap opened between the living rock and the quarried grey stone of the tower, another mark that it didn't really belong. She was afraid to go up there; all its space was fixed and there was nowhere to hide. She crept into the wall in the big, round antechamber, and watched Oto for a while. The Imperial man spent almost all his time in the new tower, even to eat there. The antechamber was always full of soldiers, coming and going, and she could not see a way to get up into his chambers. She was sure that Mervaly was there. Tirza went around the castle, gathering up all the knives she could find, and hid them in the walls, every point aimed at that room where Oto was. Then she went out to the Jawbone and waited.