Traitors' Gate (73 page)

Mount Aua towered above the Aua Gap, its peak capped with snow after the rains and oftentimes scalded to a balding patch as the heat built later in the dry season. Many tales of the Hundred met or mentioned Mount Aua; songs praised the mountain's strength and watchfulness. Folk did not cut trees on its lower slopes, and its crown seemed to graze the heavens, although Joss had once flown right over the ragged summit, gulping dizzily at thin air. The ledge was scored into the mountain's side about two-thirds of the way up. As Joss and Scar tested the currents and tried several routes to move in close without getting too buffeted by the winds swirling around the peak, Anji canted his body this way and that to get a better look.

“These altars, are they sited to give the Guardians an exceptional vista from which to observe the movements of people in the land? Or to give them a safe haven which few—beyond eagles and determined climbers—could ever hope to reach?”

“Hold on,” said Joss.

He flagged the rest of their flight—six eagles in all—to stay in a holding pattern; then he gave Scar the signal for descent. They hit an eddy, dropped, rose, and finally he maneuvered a reluctant Scar in to the wide ledge. The eagle landed, spread his wings in protest, and chirped vociferously.

“Unhook . . . now,” said Joss, and the two men dropped together, Joss shielding Anji from the eagle's irritation, but as soon as the men's weight vanished, the eagle folded his wings, tucked his head, and settled into the strange stupor that afflicted him on the altars.

“He's quiet,” observed Anji as they paced away from the eagle, an arm's length from the sheer edge. “Hu! We're high up. I feel dizzy.”

“Going so high so fast you may get light-headed.”

The ledge ran like a divot scored out of an otherwise evenly sloped incline, and its inner edge was lost in the shadowy
depths of a low-hanging cave cut into the rock. Up here, the wind really tore; no tree or bush or pile of boulders offered shelter, nothing but that cave, and between the cleft and the rim lay a glimmering pattern etched into the rock.

“Is that sorcery?” asked Anji. “Or a vein of crystal or gems grown into the rock?”

“It's a Guardian's labyrinth. The labyrinth guards the altar, which you can only reach by walking the maze. But anyone who attempts to walk the maze will be cast aside by the gods' protective magic before he can reach their sacred hollow. As I should know, having survived the attempt more than once.”

Anji's eyes narrowed as he examined Joss, but he seemed also to be suppressing a smile. “In your reckless youth?”

Joss chuckled. “That's the answer I'll give if pressed.”

“So if I try to walk that path, I'll risk being cast out and thrown to my death? What if I don't walk the maze? What if I just cut straight across the ledge to that cave behind, to see what's inside there?”

Joss slipped his flying hood back to drape along his neck and brushed a hand along his hair. “I doubt this is the time to find out, given we've just enlisted the recalcitrant council of Horn in our grand plan to defeat the Star of Life and its commanders. Perhaps you think otherwise?”

Anji laughed, studying the altar. “Prudence dictates caution. And yet . . .” The wind pulled a few strands of hair from his tightly coiled topknot; it tugged at the hem of his black tabard, and shinnied through his sleeves, catching in the coils of leather that bound his forearms, and the supple gloves encasing his hands.

What was the quality in Anji that drew the eye?

Anji was relentless, that was it. He kept after the tasks he meant to finish; he did not let up. People had a way of knowing who could be trusted to bring the sheep home and who might get weary of the shepherding and leave the flock out in the far pasture while bringing home excuses instead.

Anji smiled almost as if he guessed what Joss was thinking. He nodded toward the glittering path. “Do you suppose Guardians can overhear us when we stand here?”

“Cursed if I know. I wouldn't want to take the chance that they can.”

“See you that open ground above and to the right? If we fly there we'll be able to speak in private and keep our eye on this altar at the same time.”

They hooked back in and flew to a high open slope on the massive mountain, above the tree line, so high up that the air tasted as thin as four-finger gruel.

“We're as private as we're ever likely to be,” said Anji when they had walked away from Scar. He glanced up, marking three eagles; the others were patrolling out of their sight. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”

“I thought by the way you looked at me at Horn Hall that you knew!”

“I know that when a man like you asks to speak privately, then I must heed him.”

The ledge was partially visible off to the right. The labyrinth's glimmer had a pulsating rhythm buried beneath the surface glitter but present as a heart's beat in the body of a man. Had the gods poured the life's blood of the land into the altars? Threaded it with the land's spirit? Was that how new Guardians were born out of death, because the land—its spirit and blood—flowed through their hearts and into their flesh?

“We've got to talk about the Guardians, Anji.”

Anji nodded. “Yes. Go on.”

“Lord Radas and his allies have become corrupted and now use the magic of the cloaks for corrupt and selfish ends.”

“They're demons, as I've been saying.”

Joss shook his head impatiently. “Maybe that's true of the demons of your land. Here, demons are just one of the eight children, often wearing a human face but with their own ways and their own concerns. Just as wildings and lendings and delvings have. Anji, listen. The Guardians are not single spirits who have existed for all this time in the same vessel since the day the gods raised them at Indiyabu. The cloaks carry the authority and sorcery granted by the gods. But the individuals who wear the cloaks change. Humans who died serving justice are raised by a cloak to become a Guardian. But some among the
Guardians crossed under the Shadow Gate and became corrupt. It's those Guardians we fight. Not the others.”

“What others?” asked Anji, studying Joss's face intently.

“There are Guardians who oppose Lord Radas and his ally, a woman who wears the cloak of Night. Some among the Guardian council are not corrupt, and they seek to—” There was no way to put this except bluntly. “They seek to kill the corrupt Guardians in order that new individuals can wear the cloaks and become Guardians in truth.”

“Let's say it's true there are those wearing Guardian cloaks who wish to kill Lord Radas and his allies. How can we know they are not themselves corrupt and plan to take over the Guardians' council and Lord Radas's army for themselves? And even if they are not yet corrupt, how can we know they will not fall into the shadow in time? If one can be corrupted, then all can.”

“The Guardians walked the Hundred for generation after generation, establishing justice, presiding over the assizes. It was only one who became corrupt and then worked to corrupt others, so once we kill her and her allies, the Guardians' council can return to the path of justice.”

“I thought,” said Anji so softly it was difficult to hear him over the wind, “that Guardians could not be killed.”

A man did not have to be a Guardian to understand certain expressions.

“You do know,” said Joss. “You've discovered there is a way—a dangerous way—for us to kill a Guardian.”

“Two cloaks came to the Hieros in Olossi. Tohon happened to be there, visiting her, so he was present and heard everything they said, which he told to me. He described them as a man dressed as an envoy of Ilu whom you and I saw dying at Dast Korumbos, and the demon girl—who I know died in the desert along the Golden Road on our journey here—who has taken the shape of Shai's slave girl. She killed three of my soldiers. Later, she single-handedly killed a cadre of enemy soldiers. Does that make you inclined to trust or distrust them, Joss?”

“I'm sorry about your soldiers, although it's odd she killed only three if she meant to kill all of you. As for the other, that
envoy tried to help when the village was attacked. I'd call that the act of an ally. So these two came to tell the Hieros there is a way to kill Guardians?”

“They seemed willing to trust the Hieros with this information. How did you find out?”

Joss had never spoken of the dreams of Marit that had haunted him over the years. She was his secret, his hidden desire, his heart's ease. “I was very young,” he began haltingly.

“The storytellers in the market would make a song of it.”

Heat scalded Joss's cheeks. “What does that mean?”

“Only that I've heard this tale before, although you may not recall telling it to me. You were young, and there was a woman, the best woman in all the world. It was Mai who mentioned the song. She is fond of market songs.”

No doubt many are sung to her beauty.

Almost the words popped out of his mouth, but he thought better of it. “Marit was the first woman I ever truly loved,” he said instead, “and I suppose the last one as well.”

“And she appeared to you, wearing a cloak. Demons appear in the guise of those we most love. That makes us vulnerable to their lies.”

“Your outlander notions about demons do not hold here in the Hundred. It truly was Marit. She is no lilu who set a trap to snare me.”

“Beware wanting her to be something she may not be. One of those she claims to be in alliance with is known to be a demon!” Anger flashed in the captain's expression, and its strength made Joss cursed uncomfortable. “No creature has blue eyes like that ghost girl, none except demons!”

Joss raised both hands, in the gesture of soothing. “Heya! It's understandable you would distrust a woman who killed three of your men. But as you said, we met that envoy of Ilu before. I sensed no corruption in his person.”

Anji's mouth flattened. His voice was coiled tight but very even. “How can we sense their corruption? Demons hide what they are behind a mask that makes them appear as human. These who wear the cloaks wield considerable power. They will always be a danger to us.”

“Marit fights with us, for justice! She's not our enemy!” The memory of Marit—the feel of her skin under his hands, for there had been nothing inhuman about the flesh Joss had too briefly touched—overwhelmed him. She was as unattainable as she had ever been all those long years he had thought her dead. He had to turn his face into the wind so it could obliterate his tears. All along he had been carrying sorrow with him, a heavier burden than he had ever cared to understand.

Anji unleashed his riding whip and began drawing it through his fingers. “Perhaps they may be telling the truth,” he said, although the admission sounded grudging. “Can you find Marit again? If I can speak to her we might learn more about Lord Radas, the cloak of Night, and the other cloaks who obey him. We can account for eight Guardians among these two factions, five opposed to three. That means one remains missing. Where is that one?”

“I don't know how to find Marit. She always found me.”

Anji raised an eyebrow. “Can it be she still loves you, even though she is dead?”

The words made the air seem hot and the ground unsteady. Joss passed a hand over his eyes, and the world settled back into place. “She is a Guardian now. None of that matters. She and her allies offered us this weapon so we can fight, because they are Guardians who serve justice and the land.”

Anji tapped his whip against a thigh. “If we sever the cloaks from Lord Radas and the other corrupted Guardians they command, it's likely we will cripple Lord Radas's army. Yet if we can sever these individuals from that which binds them to the land, then it seems their cloaks will be released to seek new Guardians. And then what? Will their greed for power not rise all over again? Don't you see the danger in that, Joss?”

“There's always danger. So can we all become corrupt. If that were an argument, then none of us would ever act. The gods raised the Guardians. That some have become corrupted doesn't mean all will be. Justice can be restored. We're obligated to serve justice and restore peace to the land.”

“Of course.” Anji's smile was rueful, his sigh deeply felt. “We speak of terrible things. You and I know how difficult the
struggle to restore peace will be. What have we decided, Commander?”

“If only we'd known this before Zubaidit walked into the enemy's camp!” Aui! Now he must recall kissing Zubaidit! Would these gods-rotted memories of passionate women never cease troubling him? His groin stirred, and he unhooked his drinking pouch, unsealed it, and took a long swig of sweet cordial. “Captain?”

Anji accepted the offering, drinking deeply as well. Shadows drew a haze over the high slopes of Mount Aua; a streamer of wispy cloud trailed off the icy crown.

“If the corrupted Guardians discover what we know, they'll be put on their guard,” added Joss. “So any person given this knowledge who confronts a Guardian must act immediately and succeed on their first attempt to sever them from the cloak. How likely is it that they can?”

“Only a person trained in the most exacting manner can be trusted. Can any of your reeves act no matter what the circumstance, even if they are themselves wounded or dying, and press forward to complete a task with no expectation of surviving the attempt?”

“Of course they can! They do all the time. You forget, Anji, we know full well that we die if our eagle dies. But as for killing a Guardian . . . it's hard to say if any would be willing to undertake an act that would seem blasphemous, as if striking at the gods. I'm not even sure I could bring myself to do it. What of your men?”

“Those of my soldiers I do not trust completely to be able to accomplish what I ask of them, do not still ride with me. Nevertheless, we must be cautious. If we could reach Zubaidit with this intelligence, she would act. Yet to attempt to reach her, if she's truly placed herself within Lord Radas's army, puts all at risk of discovery if the messenger is captured and interrogated by one of the cloaks.”