'The Black Lens.' A look of stark pain flitted across Rann's ruined features. 'One of the last tricks Istu concocted before Felarod bound him. And we must face it at the outset of this War of Powers.'
He turned to her. Her eyes were wide above dark fatigue hollows. Rumors had flown among the ragged refugees streaming to Kara-Est and Bilsinx from the Sky City and the fury of its returned builders that a second War of Powers lay at hand. She had tended to dismiss such saying as idle gossip.
The scarred lips of Prince Rann confirmed those rumors of truth. 'And skyrafts, Sublieutenant. Did you see any?'
'Few, lord. Ten or a dozen flew around or beside the City, but no more than that. We were observed, I think, but none pursued us.' Her teeth showed bright in the twilight dimness of the room. 'They've learned that lesson, at least!'
Rann waved his hand. The dearth of skyrafts mystified him, but it was only a minor mystery. The reptiles holding the City might have dispatched their fleets elsewhere for some arcane mission. A few sharp skirmishes since the day the City was conquered had demonstrated that, without magical aid, the skystone craft the Hissers rode couldn't survive long in the sky against the eagles of the bird riders. It was a trivial fact. The real enemy was the Demon of the Dark Ones. Against him the might and speed of the war eagles were little more than a sparrow smashing senseless into a stone wall.
Rann chose not to tell the officer of the insignificance of the superiority to which she had alluded with such feral delight. He did not play his torment games with his own soldiers. Not now, not when so few remained. As spurious as it was, he would let her revel in the superiority of eagle over skyraft. All humans needed what comfort they could find now.
He sipped the ale. His cheek muscles contracted to give him a slight squint. 'The others remain to shadow the City?' he asked.
'Yes, lord. Four of us alternate resting on the ground and fol lowing the City. We've had luck in the form of clouds to hide in.' She shrank again from her own cup. 'But still, I think they know they're being watched.'
Rann nodded. That was one of the disadvantages of aerial observation. As a general rule, if you can see your foe, he could also see you. But this, too, meant little. Such was the strength of the reptilian Vridzish that they didn't care if they were spied upon or not. They now held the City – and had freed it from its once-set course over the center of the Sundered Realm. Using this immense aerial rock raft as their base, they could now travel at will and lay siege to even the most heavily defended cities.
'Well done, Sublieutenant Tanith. Go below and get some food and rest. You've earned them.'
She paused beneath the doorway arch and asked, 'Do we strike them tomorrow, lord? Or wait till they come to us?' In the dusk, her eyes shone with their own inner light.
'I shall take your suggestions under advisement, Sublieutenant. I assure you I'll undertake no weighty strategic decision without first consulting you.' Feeling the lash of his irony, the officer turned and fled.
He listened to her heels tack-hammering down the stairs. He had been harsh with her. That struck him as an ill omen. He usually controlled himself with far more precision. His skill in inflicting hurt led naturally to his knowing how not to inflict it, and when not to. This had been one of those occasions.
He shook his head and poured more ale. He was losing his grip in obvious ways. It was a new problem for him, more alien than the ways of the reptilian Zr'gsz. Though he knew how to manipulate that problem to maximize the despair and suffering of others, he didn't know how to cope when it came to haunt him.
Prince Rann knew fear. Great fear, overwhelming fear, for the first time in his life.
Her fear almost as tangible as the perfume of the two burly youths standing behind her, Governor Parel Tonsho fumbled at the door of her apartments, the brass key clicking against the lockplate as her fingers jumped and jittered. To cover fear and clumsiness alike, she cursed the smoky yellow glare of the oil lamps set in alcoves along the hall. If either of the youths realized that her difficulty had any cause but the dimness of the corridor, neither spoke the thought aloud. One did not maintain a much sought after position in the Governor's harem by being quick to find fault.
The key finally slid home with a thin screeching. Tumblers clicked and the door opened. She cast a quick look up and down the hallway before pushing into the darkened chamber beyond. Her pretty-boys were skilled with swords, but if the doom she'd feared so long had decided to overtake her now on the eve of battle, neither these two nor an army like them would help her in the least.
Then she was in the foyer, her heart hammering, as though she'd escaped a stalking, half-seen menace. A lamp flared in the room. With an odd relief she saw the small, neat figure sitting at ease in a fur-draped chair, hand raised to turn up the lamp even more. The long-awaited doom had come and, in coming, removed all fear of the waiting.
The door closed softly behind her. She sensed that neither of her kept youths had entered.
'I suppose,' she said bitterly, 'it would do me little good to call for help.'
Prince Rann smiled the lazy smile of a cat that has awakened to find a mouse creeping across an expanse of open floor. 'Does it surprise you that your playmates are in my employ?'
'No.' Her lumpy body sagged against a cool, plastered wall. Her pitbull eyes closed to weary slits. 'Not really.'
'Come in and sit down, milady Governor. Join me in a glass of this excellent Jorean Chablis. I find it vastly more palatable than that turpentine you Estil squeeze for yourselves.' He gestured at a square bottle cut from blue glass bearing the wax seal of a renowned Jorean vintner.
Knowing the hopelessness of her situation, she saw nothing else to do but comply. The soul of graciousness, Rann poured full the crystal cup he had set out on the stand at his elbow, rose, handed her the glass, then eased back into the chair.
The thick furs strewn across the floor clutched at her feet as she walked to the divan opposite Rann. Cushions sighed protest as she dropped listlessly, spilling drops of white wine down the front of her purple silk tunic.
Reflexively, she took the glass in both hands and gulped the wine, needing the warmth and reassurance of its alcohol more than the sweetish taste.
'You've done well for yourself under the aegis of the City in the Sky, Governor.' Rann's eyes, cat-yellow in the light, appraised her over the sparkling arc of his glass. 'You've already accumulated a Tolvirot banker's ransom worth of new furs and silken cushions to replace those spoiled during the late, uh, unpleasantness. And by the diligent scrubbings of your servants and application of incense, you've almost managed to eliminate the smell of the blood that was spattered so liberally throughout these quarters.'
At his words she twisted at her necklace of tiny seashells so violently that the strong silk thread snapped. The shells clattered to the floor in a pink and yellow rain.
"We have even provided you with a new seraglio to replace the one Colonel Enn found necessary to have shot down in this very room. And you still possess one of the finest cellars in all the Sundered Realm.' He hoisted his glass in salute, drained it, swirled the wine across his palate for a long moment before swallowing. 'No, all in all, the yoke of the City has lain lightly on your shoulders, Governor Tonsho. This you must admit. And in my turn, I admit that none other could have done as splendid a job administering the recovery of your city. You have amply earned both the rewards we your conquerors have lavished on you, and -' He leaned forward, eyes hardening, brightening. '- and the confidence we put in you.'
Knowing the hopelessness of her position, she dashed her glass into fragments on the marble floor at his feet.