“This doesn't look promising,” Damin murmured.
“Who normally guards the city?” R'shiel asked with a glance over her shoulder at the wary guards who fingered their sheathed blades with itching fingers as they passed through the city gates.
“The Collective.”
The further they rode into the city, the more deserted the streets became. News of the arrival of the Warlords of Krakandar, Elasapine and Izcomdar ran before them like flame on a line of lamp oil and the citizens of Greenharbour wisely kept to their homes, out of the way of a confrontation that was likely to get very ugly.
“Damin, I may not be a tactical genius, but is this a good idea? Riding openly through Greenharbour when you know your cousin has claimed the throne?”
He shrugged. “Greenharbour is neutral territory.”
“Nine hundred Raiders isn't very many.”
“That's all I'm permitted to bring into the city. Three centuries for every Warlord, no more. It's the law.”
“The law didn't stop your cousin claiming the throne. What makes you think it's going to stop him breaking the rules about the number of troops he can muster in the city?”
“I can't risk marching into Greenharbour openly flaunting the law. It would be playing right into Cyrus' hands. Besides, you won't let anything happen to me.”
“You're relying on my power to save you? Adrina was right, you do enjoy living dangerously, don't you?”
“Adrina said that, did she?”
“Yes.”
“What else did she say?”
R'shiel rolled her eyes impatiently. “Why don't you ask her?”
“I'm asking you.”
“You're a damned fool, Damin Wolfblade.”
He did not answer her; did not have a chance to. She stilled suddenly, her whole body tensing as the familiar prickle of magic ran over her skin like a million tiny ants wearing hobnailed boots.
“What's wrong?” Damin asked, watching her curiously.
“Someone is drawing power. A lot of it.” Her face was a mask of concentration as she tried to pinpoint the source. Finally she stood in her stirrups, looking out over the white, flat-roofed houses and then pointed towards the harbour. “It's coming from that direction.”
“The harbour?”
“No. I don't think so. But close to it.”
“Then it's probably the Sorcerers' Collective you sense. Perhaps it's some of the sorcerers —”
“No!” she declared emphatically. “What I can feel isn't someone chanting spells. This is Harshini.”
Damin shrugged. “That would mean it was one of the Harshini who returned to the Collective last winter. I doubt it's anything to be concerned about. If it's Harshini magic you can sense, then they're bound to be on our side.”
She sat down again and looked at him. “How do you figure that?”
“You are the demon child. You ride with me.”
“You don't understand, Damin. This isn't one Harshini drawing their power that I can feel. It's several of them and they are drawing every drop they can handle.”
“Then it could mean trouble.”
“Founders, Damin! Do you practise being so dense?”
He grinned sheepishly. “I'm sorry. Explain it to me.”
“I think the Harshini are under attack. It's the only explanation.”
Damin reined in his stallion and brought the column to a halt. His grin faded and was replaced by a look of consternation. “Someone is attacking the Harshini? That's inconceivable. This is Hythria, not Medalon or Karien. We honour the... R'shiel!”
She wasn't listening to him. Instead she spurred her horse forward to the end of the paved street where the rise of the land enabled her to look out over the rest of the city. What she saw made her gasp with astonishment.
Greenharbour lay before her, a sea of whitewashed buildings glaring under a sky of sapphire silk.
The city curved around the crescent-shaped bay. To the left was the forest of tall masts that marked the vast wharves of the city. To her right was a magnificent white palace, its domed spires gilded and almost too bright to look upon. Above the palace was a glittering dome of radiant, shimmering light enveloping the temples and palaces that R'shiel thought must be the Sorcerers' Collective. She could just make out the outlines of the buildings inside the dome as it waxed and waned with the fading strength of the Harshini who held it in place.
Legend held that two centuries ago, the Harshini who defended the Citadel from the Sisters of the Blade had done the same thing. But if several hundred Harshini had not been able to hold a protective dome in place long enough to save the Citadel, there was little chance the few Harshini in Greenharbour could hold this one longer than a few more minutes.
“What in the name of the gods is that?” Damin gasped as he reined in beside her.
“The Harshini trying to protect themselves,” she explained. “Look down there.”
Damin looked in the direction of her pointing finger. The streets surrounding the dome of light were crowded with soldiers. Although they were too far away to make out their individual escutcheons, R'shiel could easily guess whose troops they were. They were massing in the main avenues leading to the Collective, simply waiting for the strength of the Harshini who protected it to fade. She glanced over her shoulder at the men Damin, Narvell and Rogan had brought into the city. They were easily outnumbered three to one. The other two Warlords were riding up the street towards the head of the column. R'shiel left Damin to deal with them and turned her attention back to the dome of light. Even in the short time she had been watching it had faded somewhat.
“What's going on?” she heard Rogan Bearbow demand of Damin behind her. She did not wait to hear his answer. Spurring her horse forward, she headed for the harbour at a canter. Whatever politics were involved in the battle for the High Prince's throne, the Hythrun had no right to endanger the peaceful Harshini.
R'shiel had no plan in mind. Her only thought was that the dome was fading and the Harshini trapped inside were in danger. She could not reach the Harshini through the impenetrable barrier, but when it collapsed the soldiers massed in the streets surrounding the Collective would overrun them. She smiled grimly to herself as she rode, wondering how life could change so drastically in such a short time. Two years ago, had she heard there were Harshini under attack, she would have applauded the forces ranged against her despised enemies. Now she was riding to their rescue, heedless of any danger she might be placing herself in.
That thought had a sobering effect, and she slowed her horse to a walk. What am I doing? I can't just ride up to the gates of the Collective and demand the enemy disperse.
R'shiel looked around and discovered she had ridden into an area of the city that was filled with government buildings. At least she guessed that's what they were. They had an aura of bureaucracy that R'shiel knew well. The buildings were several storeys high and a number had impressive entrances flanked by fluted marble columns. They surrounded a broad circular plaza dominated by a fountain that spewed forth its cascade from the mouth of a beautifully sculpted water dragon. R'shiel studied the creature curiously for a moment. She had heard of the remarkable beasts that populated the warm waters of the Dregian Ocean, but she had never seen anything like the creature in the fountain. It had a large dorsal fin, wide-set eyes and a long, elegant tail that ended in a broad, flipper-like paddle.