The Ale Boy's Feast (41 page)

“What’s more,” said Scharr ben Fray. “We’ll find a trigger somewhere. These giants are not fooling. They’ll bring those heavy swords down and dash the skulls of unsuspecting intruders.”

In the rain of dust and feathers, Warney found another keyhole just inside the entrance. “Strange,” he said, “to have such an important gate controlled by keys.”

“Indeed,” said Scharr ben Fray. “In a secure house the raising and closing of the main gate is the work of many in concert, to keep too much power from falling into the wrong man’s hands. That’s just the first of many mysteries I mean to solve in the upcoming days.” He strode urgently to the foot of the stair. Cal-raven started after him, but the mage held up his hand. “Wait.”

A flicker of lanternlight appeared in the gap of the second gateway high above.

“Archers,” called Scharr ben Fray in a sharp whisper.

The company behind him drew together.

A figure appeared through the gate, raising the amber lantern high.

“Who are you?” Scharr ben Fray’s harsh question repeated and diminished. “And how did you get in?”

The figure, barefoot and dressed in a slight gown, descended with nimble steps, the golden light illuminating a soft, feminine smile.

Someone whispered, “Northchild!”

Auralia recognized her at once. “Nella Bye.”

“Oh!” Jordam stepped away from the hooded stranger and strode forward swiftly, moving past the king. Auralia saw Jes-hawk try to rise from his pallet, his hand groping for a weapon.

Jordam, moving up the stairs, opened his arms. The woman set down the lantern and disappeared into his enormous embrace.

Scharr ben Fray’s mouth opened and closed, and he seemed distraught, as if some privilege had been stolen from him, some plan disrupted.

Cal-raven looked back at Auralia, incredulous. “How do you—”

He never finished his question.

After stepping down from the last stair, Nella Bye had come to kneel at his feet. “Welcome, King of Abascar. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Nella Bye,” the king whispered. “You … you were in the Cent Regus Core. I heard that you …”

She looked up, sharp eyed. “We were attacked. There was trouble. But the ale boy and Jordam, they came back. They rescued us. The ale boy brought us on an underground river. We found a stair. And it led us … here.” She spread her arms.

“I won’t believe it until I see it,” Scharr ben Fray said quietly.

“I believe it,” said Cal-raven.

“You’ve nothing to fear,” she laughed. “Well, except that this city is something of a zoo. But as long as its furry, feathered, and scaly inhabitants cooperate, I believe it is ours for the taking. We’ve even begun to sweep it for you. Although …” Something splatted on the floor near the king’s feet, and Nella Bye looked up toward the distant wingbeats. “Clearly we have a great deal yet to do.”

“They’ve even begun to sweep it,” Cal-raven laughed, incredulous. He turned to his teacher. Scharr ben Fray shrugged. “Rescue brought you here? On an underground river?”

“rrRescue,” Jordam confirmed, his voice resonant with the tone of a doting father. “O-raya’s boy brought them.”

“The ale boy?” Auralia grabbed Warney’s sleeve to keep from staggering.

Cal-raven took another step toward Nella Bye. “All of you? Is the queen …”

Nella Bye bowed her head. “I am sorry, master.”

The king looked at the beastman. Jordam took a step back and choked.

“And where is my ale boy?” asked the king.

Nella Bye was silent for a long while. Then she looked at Jordam, a note of solemn apology in her voice. “In the last moments of our journey, as we ascended the stair to this house, the creature …”

“rrMust … must not say …” Jordam was shuddering, retreating further into the shadows. “No.”

“We think it might have been the Keeper,” she said. “It took the boy down the river.”

Auralia, her whole body quaking, took Krawg and Warney by the hands and sank to her knees.

Cal-raven shook his head. “The boy has something powerful watching over …” His voice trailed off. Then he turned to face his people and raised his voice. “Abascar has suffered so much. But here … here is a blessing. Let us remember this when our story is told. They will say it was just some mad entertainer’s fantasy. But here stands Nella Bye.”

Then he turned and asked softly, “Do the doors at the top of these stairs seal tightly?”

“They do. A trustworthy second barrier. A keyhole is also there that, I can only assume, serves as another way to open and close the front gate.”

Cal-raven turned and walked back through the crowd as if moving through a dream. He stopped directly before Auralia, who climbed awkwardly to her feet. But Cal-raven’s gaze passed over her, shifting from Krawg to Warney. “Will you two take the first watch? If anything or anybody comes to our open door, you are to let them through the first gate. But not the second.”

“Master, I … What if the gate … Now, not fast enough … I … Surely …”

“Krawg,” said the king, “if you see any kind of danger coming, get up the stairs and close the second barrier. That should give any viscorclaws time to enter and stand on this threshold. Then seal the front gate from behind the second barrier, locking them inside.” He looked up to the statues’ shoulders. “And we’ll prepare a fiery surprise for them.”

“Honor, well. Something I … We could never … Yes!” That is what Krawg said. And then he added. “My pleasure.”

“Now to rather urgent matters,” said the king. “Nella Bye, is there water?”

She laughed. “There is plenty of that, master.”

“Anything to eat?”

“Wait until you see the orchards. They’re a mess, the trees climbing all over one another and heavy with fruit.”

“Please don’t say that the trees are climbing anywhere,” muttered the mage.

“I want to see everything,” said Cal-raven. “But first lead me to the others. House Abascar is made of people more than walls or towers. After all those prisoners have suffered, it’s time to welcome them home.”

hen wild roosters began to crow their claims to sovereignty, Cal-raven was already awake, savoring what remained of the night’s calm. On this, the morning of his fourth day in Inius Throan, he sat on the floor in the wavering shadow of his breeze-blown hammock. This had once been Tammos Raak’s royal bedchamber, but Cal-raven preferred a hammock, and so he had suspended himself in a canvas between two of the three pillars that supported the ceiling. He could lie in the dark and imagine his way back to afternoon naps in the Cragavar trees, in the days before Abascar’s future had been set upon his shoulders.

The pillars’ three murals, lit by dawn’s first rays through the glassless, east-facing windows of Inius Throan’s royal citadel, enthralled him again.

On a path between Forbidding Wall peaks, Tammos Raak led children in a parade around the north pillar’s girth. With an enormous shield, the Great Ancestor deflected the fiery arrows that followed them while the frightened brood rushed southward into the Expanse.

On the central pillar’s scene, children nestled like baby birds around Raak’s feet while he sheltered them with two shields raised like wings, hiding them from the searching gaze of eyes above the mountains.

On the third pillar, their fragile camp had been replaced by a great city encased in shields thick as a tortoiseshell. The city flourished in its concealment—the children danced and smiled.

That was Tammos Raak’s story. For a while. He established a house for them. And then it broke into pieces from within
. Cal-raven touched the scars where gemstones had been pried from the mural.
Thieves. I suppose they’re part of the fourth chapter, the one Tammos Raak never had the chance to tell
.

Cal-raven’s sleep had been fitful and feverish. His imagination was overwhelmed by all he had seen in three days of exploration, while his body ached from the recent ordeals. In childhood he had dreamed of Inius Throan. Yet the thrill he should have felt in seeing it emerge from myth and time was lost in the realization of how much toil lay ahead and the unshakeable ache of all that the journey had cost him and his people.

My teacher is eager for me to name this New Abascar. I cannot. Not while most of my people are still far away in Bel Amica. Not while viscorclaws prowl in the space between us and crawl to besiege us. How can it have come to this? Where are your colors, Auralia?

He dreaded opening the door. He knew he would find a decanter of apple juice and new wildflowers for the vase on his windowsill. That offering had greeted him each of the three mornings since their arrival.

He had no doubt who had brought them.

Through Emeriene’s eyes Inius Throan was less like a city and more like a cluttered attic with the roof torn off.

A world of restless imagination, stranded for centuries in the lap of seemingly impenetrable mountains, the ancient ruins were disintegrating, yet full of marvels. She had followed a short distance behind the company that shared Cal-raven’s tour of the wall, straining to hear the hushed observations.

“Looks like a house dreamt up by a crazed child desperate for attention,” the king observed. “It’s a world of unfinished ideas.”

His words turned her around, and, yes, her boys were still following, shouting about which of Inius Throan’s fourteen towers they would take as their home.

Irimus Rain glanced back at the children, then leaned to whisper at Cal-raven’s
shoulder, and the king turned suddenly and strode back to face Emeriene. “Sisterly,” he said, “I didn’t know you’d followed us.”

“I … I was just … I was brooming for a look,” she stammered. “I mean, a broom. Looking for a broom. To sweep the threshold stairs.”

“I’m sure,” said Cal-raven, repressing a smile, “that there is invention enough in this company to make a broom.” He then asked if she might be willing to direct the teams that would clear the streets and assess the condition of Inius Throan’s primary structures. “How different can it be from commanding sisterlies in Bel Amica?”

While she felt the weight of this request, it pleased her. The sight of the city had set her to twitching, awakening her lifelong inclination to organize chaos and restore missing pieces. “It would be an honor,” she said.
And it will help me take my mind off you
, she told herself.

“Come with us,” he said. “Irimus will map what we find, and you can make your plan from there.”

She understood his careful, formal manner. What else could he do in front of so many witnesses? But she worried about how things would be different when they were alone together—and she wondered if such an occasion would ever come.
For all I know, he’s sculpted a statue of Lesyl inside his chamber
, she thought.

Fourteen ivy-gowned watchtowers were set at even intervals on the walls. All but one wore an antlered crown around a pointed cap. And all but one had belfries enclosing massive, rust-gold bells. The bells sheltered worlds of their own—webbed nests for birds, bats, and spiders.

But one belfry—the westernmost—had collapsed. She wondered what song the bells might have played together and whether anyone would guess the missing note.

As they moved along the impressive city wall—sweeping spans of seamless stonemastery that joined the fourteen towers—Irimus Rain was already sketching all that he saw, from streets to wildlife, to make maps and guides as he had in House Abascar. He even stopped to sketch a hairy forty-legger, cleverly camouflaged and scuttling along the mottled stone until it found a sun spot where a knotted bundle of its kind were soaking up the warmth.

From this height Inius Throan looked like nothing more than a trash yard of broken crockery. There were cracks in everything. Birds streamed from a scar in the grandest sanctuary—some kind of ceremonial assembly hall—so that it looked like a half-lidded stewpot emitting bursts of steam.

Beyond that sanctuary, avenues spread out without symmetry or reason, alleys branching off like strands of a crazy spider’s web. They zigzagged through neighborhoods, spectacular piles of slumping huts whose sunken roofs and flattened layers made them appear as stacks of broken tiles in a crowded masonry yard. Bleating rock goats with corkscrew antlers climbed over them as if they were mountains, and every time they bleated their manlike complaints, the children would howl with laughter and bleat back at them. Flocks of clucking flurries skittered underfoot, rushing across the alleys, reminding her of marbles from an overturned toy box rolling beneath the furniture.