The price of victory- - Thieves World 13 (102 page)

Daphne had mentioned hastily that, in Chenaya's absence, she had shared some adventure with the poor women who sold their bodies in the Promise of Heaven for coins to feed their children and to keep some kind of hovel's roof over their heads. With her own money, which was quite plentiful thanks to her settlement with the prince, Daphne had hired some of those women, taken them out of the park, and given them decent jobs as household staff.

Chenaya wasn't about to object. Two of those women had just bathed her and dried her with soft towels and combed out her tangled hair. She felt better than she had in days as she dressed in a clean white chiton, fastened her broad leather belt about her waist, and laced on a pair of sandals. That done, she fastened her short sword to the belt, and hung the small bag containing the diamond around her neck once more.

Fed and dressed, she started to leave her rooms. Near the door, though, hung the painting of her, which Lalo the Limner had executed. She stopped before it, feeling the arcane heat that radiated from it, star ing at an idealized image of her face with shining blond hair that swept outward and upward and became flame. It had been this portrait and what it portended that had driven her, half mad, from Sanctuary, that, and the very unpleasant ending to her business with Zip and the PFLS.
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Only, it hadn't been an ending. She had fallen in love with Zip while setting her trap for the piffles, and instead of killing him when she should have, she'd saved him for prison, instead, and turned him over to Walegrin. Devious were the minds of Sanctuary's politicians, however, and somehow, with her gone, Zip had been released and made one of the city's military commanders, along with Walegrin and Critias. No doubt, she had Uncle Molin to thank for that. And Kadakithis, once her favor ite cousin, could not be held unaccountable, either.

They all had played their part in Lowan Vigeles's death. Ro-Karthis was not the only one who had cut her father's throat. Zip, Walegrin, Uncle Molin, Kadakithis. Not one of them was innocent.

She brushed her fingertips gingerly over the portrait. The paint and canvas were warm, almost too hot to touch. It had frightened her that night, watching Lalo, at her insistence, paint it. It had terrified her. His particular magic had revealed the truth she had been unwilling to accept, that she was bound body and spirit to the sun-god. In her fear, she had fled like an unreasoning child.

Seven months had changed that. She clutched the jewel called the Fire in God's Eye, without taking it from its bag. There were more changes yet to come, changes for her and changes for Sanctuary. But first, she had

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to survive another night, and she feared, for she could feel herself weak ening. More than anything, she wanted to sleep.

But she had to check on Rashan and his progress at the temple. When the diamond was safe in a consecrated mounting, then she could rest, then she could moum her father and Aunt Rosanda properly, then she could contemplate a new direction for her life.

She left her rooms and passed through the upper hallways, refusing to let herself even glance toward the door to her father's rooms, putting his death out of her mind for now. She went downstairs, nodding curtly to a pair of unfamiliar women who smiled at her from their work in the kitchen, and stepped out into the rear grounds near the aviary. There were a dozen cages there, each home to a fine raptor, and a large cabinet built on a post, which contained bells, jesses, and proper gloves for han dling such birds.

Chenaya took a thick leather glove and a jess from the cabinet and went to Reyk's cage. The falcon fluttered its magnificent wings in greet ing as it climbed onto her arm, and she slipped the less onto its right leg. Reyk was excited to see her and he flexed his talons in the glove's quilted
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leather. They'd been apart too long, she and this bird.

From the aviary she could see the training fields. Scores of men were hard at work on the great wooden machines and in the sand pits. Beyond were the old, hastily built barracks, no longer in use. Beyond that rose the private wall that encircled Land's End. Opposite the training field, against the southern wall, were the stables. She headed there at a brisk walk.

A large man, unfamiliar to her, bowed when she approached. "Lady Chenaya," he said in a gruff but courteous voice. "You honor us." She nodded and gave him a brief smile, the only response she could make. He had the look of an experienced stablemaster, and she assumed Dayrne had found him somewhere. Indeed, the stables were as clean as any part of Land's End. Fresh straw had been laid, and the horses stood content edly in their stalls.

With the stablemaster in tow, she went to the stall where her big gray stood. He had been well groomed this morning, and his mane had been freshly clipped close to his neck. He had carried her well the past few days. Chenaya led him from the stall by his halter and informed the stable master through hand signals that she wanted him saddled. He fastened a lead to the halter and led the gray toward the tack room.

Chenaya wandered toward the far end of the stables, where those
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horses were kept that were either too young or not properly broken for riding. There she found the colt that she had such hopes for, the product of a god-blessed union between Lowan's snow-white mare and Tempus's

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full-blooded Tros horse. She gazed at the young animal with pleased wonderment. Its coat was a golden color she had never seen before, its mane and tail flaxen. It had the Tros fire in its eyes.

"He grows rapidly, mistress. I've never seen one like him."

Reyk's wings beat the air, and he gave off a shrill cry of menace. Chenaya had not heard the stablemaster come up behind her. The man stepped quickly back, eyes widening, bringing a hand up to ward off an attack. Chenaya grinned to herself. He knew a lot about horses, that much was plain, but he had a lot to learn about birds and how to ap proach them. She gazed toward the stable entrance. The gray stood sad dled and ready for her.

There would be time later, she hoped, to play with the colt, but there was business to attend to now. She calmed Reyk by stroking the crown of his head with delicate touches. Perhaps she should have hooded him this morning, but she never hooded him. He was just excited to see her.

The stablemaster hurried along ahead of her and set down a step stool
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so she could mount the gray with Reyk on her arm. When she was settled in the saddle, she leaned down far enough to touch the stablemaster's shoulder. It was the only thanks she could offer. Then she turned the horse from the stable and waited while he opened the southern gate for her and closed it after.

Chenaya looked at Reyk and stroked his head again. Ready for some exercise, pet? she thought silently. She made an upward motion with her arm, letting go of the jess at the same time, and Reyk soared upward. She watched him as he circled higher and higher in the slate-gray sky. Then she started off, knowing he would follow.

She rode toward Sanctuary's great wall and followed it south to the Gate of Gold, retracing the path she had made last night. The falcon beat her to the gate and perched atop it until she caught up. Then, calling to her, he took to the sky again. Two sentries at the duty post watched as she trotted through. They made no effort this time to delay her.

The Wideway was full of carts and people coming and going about their morning business. Some glanced up with smiles and watched her go by. Others pointedly ignored her. She didn't care. She drew a deep breath of the lively salt air. Far out on the sea, the white sails of the fishing fleet and the Beysib treasure ships knifed through the ashen clouds.

Safe Haven Street was also crowded, and that surprised her. Sanctuary
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seemed to have gained populace in her absence. The roadways teemed in marked contrast to their dead-of-night emptiness. She was forced to slow her mount to a walk as she turned up the Avenue of Temples.

Suddenly, her head swam. She clutched at the homless rim of her saddle and wrapped her legs around the horse's barrel chest to keep from

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falling. A queer darkness surrounded her, filled her, though she was sure her eyes were open. Out of that blackness, tumbling end over end, came the same shrouded corpse she had thought was a dream the night before.

Straight for her it flew, and the cloth parted from its horrible face. Its eyeless gaze met hers.

The blackness and the vision exploded in a shower of red sparks, and pain shot through Chenaya's body. She opened her eyes slowly and found herself on the ground. She had fallen off the horse after all. A throng of people quickly gathered around as she tried to draw a decent breath.

An old woman, whose brightly dyed red hair sprouted in all directions about her head, set aside her marketing basket and bent down beside Chenaya. Her wrinkled old face was twisted with narrow-eyed concern.
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"Are you all right, honey?" she kept repeating, taking Chenaya's hand in her own.

Chenaya's eyes snapped wide suddenly at the old woman's touch, and her gaze swept the sky, spotting Reyk already in his killing dive. "Get back!" she shouted, pushing the woman away. Barely in time she got the thick leather glove up and gave a sharp whistle. Reyk's weight hit her wrist like a rock, but she caught his jess and held him securely.

She looked at the old woman then, sprawled beside her. "Sorry," she said with a sigh of relief. "He thought you were attacking me."

The old woman put on a dazed smile. "S'all right," she muttered, staring at Reyk as others in the crowd helped her up. "S'all right. You folks at Land's End been right good to some of us," she said to Chenaya.

"I knowed who you were when I saw you fall . . ."

Suddenly, Chenaya clapped a hand to her mouth. She'd spoken! She hadn't meant to, but the deed was done. She glanced fearfully up at the sky. Its gray color was already darkening. One hand felt for the diamond in its purse under her clothing. It pulsed against her skin with a steady, inaudible thrumming that unnerved her.

She grabbed the old woman by the shoulder with her free hand. "Get
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to your homes," she said urgently to everyone. "Shutter your windows, and don't look at the sky! Believe me! Go!"

The crowd stared uncertainly for a moment, no doubt wondering if she hadn't fallen on her head. Reyk beat his wings as if to drive them away, but still they hesitated. Then, as if sensing her urgency, the old woman made a quick curtsy and hurried away. It was enough to break whatever spell held the crowd. They looked at the sky, at Chenaya, then hugged their baskets to their bodies and hurried away.

Chenaya whirled around and found herself staring at the cornerstone of the Rankan Temple. Here, almost on this same spot, she had found her dagger point down in the earth the night before, and here, she had had

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her first vision of that deathly hurtling specter. Now she had had the second.

"Up, Reyk!" she cried, releasing the falcon. Her horse stood still, wait ing, as it had been trained to do. She left him there and ran inside the temple. Rashan and a dozen other priests were hard at work, lowering the sunburst on the great chains that held it suspended above Savankala's altar.

"Rashan!" she called. There was no point in keeping silent any longer.
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The damage had been done. She could feel the diamond's pulse against her chest. Rashan saw her and came running as fast as his old legs would allow. The others stopped their work to see what transpired.

"Your voice . . . ," he started, but Chenaya waved an impatient hand to shut him up.

"The diamond is in danger," she told the priest hurriedly-"We all are!" She licked her dry lips and swallowed, getting control of herself.

"First, though, tell me. Is there something buried under the cornerstone of this temple? Don't lie, and be quick!"

It was Rashan's turn to swallow. "Every Great Temple is consecrated with a sacrifice," he told her.

"A human sacrifice?"

He nodded again. "It was done on the night of the Ten-Slaying in honor ofVashanka some years ago. He requires such sacrifices."

Chenaya cut him off". "Vashanka is lost," she snapped. "Remove his image from this place. But right now, put half your priests to work digging that thing up. Dispose of it. Whatever it is, it is repugnant to Savankala. It pollutes his temple."

Rashan looked indignant. "How can you know these things'"
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She caught him by the front of his robes and glared. "I am the Daugh ter of the Sun, old man'" she said, setting him down roughly. "You and the Bright Father both wanted a high priestess. You've preached my heritage all over town, don't deny if I don't any longer. In the desert far from here, Savankala came to me, and I acquiesced." She pulled the purse from under her clothes and squeezed it in a fist. The thrumming was stronger now, more desperate. "That's why I have the Fire in God's Eye. He asked me to steal it and bring it here!"