The suited artifact followed, then stopped and crossed to the inner door. Uary tried to get to his feet and fell back. Pain finally broke through the shock. The artifact looked the door over. She threw the manual locks open and shoved the door back. She bent close to Uary and he could see her mouth move.
Run, she was telling him. Run!
He couldn’t even stand. He scrabbled across the floor. The Beholden grabbed him and hauled him forward. He saw figures. Emergency crews. He turned. The artifact and the android were through their airlock and he had time to see it yank itself away from the sealing foam before the lab door slammed shut.
He sagged into the arms of a stranger while the emergency team buzzed around them. Hands grabbed him. Sat him down. Twisted his neck to look at his ear. The technician was an amputant, he saw, with only four fingers on the hand that pressed the anesthetic patch against his wrist.
We had them, he thought Wearily as the pain began to fade. We had them. Now I understand. Now I really understand how the Ancestors could have lost to these things.
He hoped the Assembly would let him live long enough to tell them what he knew.
11—The Realm of the Nameless Powers, Late Afternoon
“The Aunorante Sangh will return, but know this too, the Nameless Powers will be on their heels.”
Jay lowered himself onto his belly and stared at the Narroways gates through a striping of greenish brown grasses. Instead of the usual collection of disinterested cargo inspectors in their turbans and rust-colored ponchos, four alert soldiers in First City’s emerald-and-beige cloaks blocked traffic and searched under tarpaulins for any unapproved or unlevied goods.
King Silver lost then. Jay lowered his head and mopped at the mud drying on his face. The rain had come down hard twice since he parted ways with Cor, and although the sun had succeeded in drying out his skin, his clothing was still drenched. It clung close to his skin like a soggy, heavy blanket. Jay looked back over his shoulder toward the road. The line of travelers waiting in front of the gate was as solid as
ever. Additional soldiers patrolled the sides of the road, guiding their oxen between gaggles of Notouch. They probably had specific orders to look for him. He couldn’t believe that the new masters of Narroways wouldn’t be interested in the King’s Skyman.
For a moment he considered leaving the city to its fate and making his way down to the Lif marshes alone to meet Cor. But night was closing in behind him and he not only had no tent or blanket to help stave off the cold, he had no supplies for what could turn out to be a multiple-day journey. Even if he could make it to the marshes, once Cor brought him to the Notouch, he had no tangible authority, and no power to intimidate, except for the gun at his side. Although the Notouch were supposed to obey whoever gave them orders, recent experience had taught him that this was not always what happened. Cor had left him still stating confidently that the Notouch would be amenable to friendly persuasion. But would Empty Cups lie to her own family about the state she’d left Broken Trail in? Jay frowned. Whatever else they had or did not have in their genetic makeup, even the Notouch had a drive for self-preservation. Without a threat that was more tangible than die unknown nightmare in Chamber One, they might very well decide to run away from Cor rather than go along with her.
Then there was Cor herself. Jay suppressed a sigh. Her resolve was wavering. If there were too many more assaults on her sense of what was right and just, she might just do something foolish. He had to make sure he could deal with Stone in the Wall’s family without Cor’s help if it became necessary.
I’ve got to at least get some supplies, whether I have to beg, borrow, or steal them. Maybe die fighting’s not quite over yet in there. If I can find one of Silver’s staff, or even a sympathetic Bondless…
Wrapping his hopes around him, Jay crept away from the road and toward the one entrance to the city that might not be guarded.
The wall around Narroways was solidly built of quarried stone and mortar, but it was breached in a number of places to create gutters and drainage ditches. Filthy water flowed into trenches and away down the slope toward the distant marshes. Jay made his way forward on hands and knees, with one eye on the city walls. No soldiers paced along the tops, and he took courage. Maybe First City hadn’t quite secured the place yet. If Silver was still free to fight, she might still be free to help him.
The idea helped harden his nerve as he crawled the last few meters to the foot of the city wall.
Climbing through the drainage hole was only a little more unpleasant than Jay imagined it would be. He came up drenched and filthy, but only slightly more so than he had been. As such, he matched the rest of the population in the muddy streets. He stepped carefully through the crowds, keeping his hands well hidden under his cloak and casting furtive glances around himself.
That also seemed to match the rest of the inhabitants. They weren’t walking, they were scuttling. Everyone clustered together in groups of three or more. Even the young men walked swiftly with wary eyes and hands hidden under their wraps.
Hoofbeats and rhythmic footsteps sounded on the cobblestones. A troop of the green-and-beige soldiers marched in a ragged column down the middle of the street, with yet more soldiers on oxen following behind. Jay let the crowd press him back against the rough wall of a house.
A blob of mud flew through the air and smacked against the face of one of the cavalry. The soldier shouted and swung himself off his ox, diving into the crowd after the offender. He managed to grab hold of someone, and with ugly-sounding shouts, the soldier dragged a squirming figure out into the street. Jay sidled toward the corner of the house. Stones flew now and shouts accompanied them. The troop leader drew his ax and it flashed in the air. Jay’s fingers found the edge of the wall and let the press of the crowd back him into the narrow alleyway beyond it. The shouts between the soldiers and bystanders were getting louder. All Jay could see was a writhing blur made up of people’s backs. Somebody screamed. Metal clashed. Jay turned away from the noises and ran.
Darkness hit.
All at once the world was puddles of greasy orange-and-gold light. Jay tripped over the uneven cobbles. The wind gusted over some wall or the other and Jay shivered. The temperature was already beginning to drop. He glanced up and saw the solid night sky, the Black Wall, and he cursed himself for not having checked the cloud cover while he had the chance. In Narroways’ perpetual stench, it was impossible for him to smell rain coming, which at night was likely to become an ice storm without warning.
He had to find shelter. Jay blundered forward, squinting up at doorways and trying to figure out what section of the city he was in.
He stumbled around a corner and into a flood of torchlight.
“Name yourself!” shouted someone overhead.
Jay squinted up at what his dazzled eyes resolved into a pile of overturned sledges, loose stones, and bent metal that barricaded the entire street. A figure, black and unidentifiable against the light, held up a javelin, evidently ready to throw it down if Jay gave the wrong answer.
Jay swallowed hard and had to forcibly stop himself from saying the Fourth Grace for hope.
“Messenger!” shouted another voice. It took a confused moment for Jay to realize it was Heart of the Seablade.
A rattle sounded from behind the barricade and metal grated against metal. A pool of oily yellow light fell across the muddy street as an anonymous pair of human shadows lifted away a section of the barricade. As soon as a big enough space opened, Jay ducked inside.