Ellonlef nodded. “There was not much to pack, as we are wearing most of our clothing. As for provisions … I suppose there is no need of them now, not if we are to make for the palace.”
Kian shot her a fleeting glance. She did not speak as if afraid, or even resigned, and neither did she sound put off that he wished to confront Varis again. She might not be excited about the prospect, but she appeared fully aware of what was at stake, and resolved that there really was no choice.
Hazad and Azuri’s return focused Kian’s thoughts. Both men wore expressions of confused shock. Only then did the sounds outside penetrate Kian’s awareness. The clangor of steel crashing against steel rang in counterpoint to the screams of the dying and the enraged cries of the killers.
“Madness!” Hazad blurted, before Kian could utter a questioning word. “The House Guard is under attack from what looks to be soldiers of the Crimson Scorpion Legion-brothers of the sword fighting each other!”
Kian digested the news and guessed the implications. “Prince Sharaal’s men, come to reclaim his rightful seat on the Ivory Throne.”
“What’s more,” Azuri added dispassionately, “the denizens of the Chalice seem to have been swept up by the same bloody tide. They are attacking soldiers from the shadows-but only when they are not at each others’ throats, or burning and looting at will.” Only the animated light in Azuri’s eyes suggested he was moved by what he had seen.
It had been many years since Kian had seen that burning glow in his friend’s usually placid gaze. Marso it had been, when they were but children. They had inadvertently ventured into an area of the city controlled by a particularly ruthless band of cutthroats and thieves. The three of them had survived the encounter by using their wits and, for the first time in their lives, by using edged steel. If Azuri wore the same expression now, it gave proof to Hazad’s appraisal of what was going on.
Madness, the big man had said. For the denizens of the Chalice, no doubt such madness was brought on by hunger, desperation, and no small measure of greed … and for the soldiers of the Ivory Throne, perhaps something more motivated them. Though Varis’s cruel oppression was a new-birthed thing in Aradan, it must have engendered a greater sense of rebellious wrath in an already restive land. Even should he succeed, Kian understood that a grave change was coming on the hearts of all Aradaners-maybe all the world-a shift in men’s dealings with each other that could well alter the face of the nations.
“If Sharaal gave the order to attack his own city and men,” Kian said, “then he must also have no intention of extending mercy to his heir. With such strife, blood will fill the gutters.”
What the ultimate outcome would be, Kian could not guess, nor could he worry over it. For himself, he wanted to reach Varis before Sharaal, for only he could end Varis’s short rule.
“Lead us to your man,” Kian said to Hya, his tone soft but dangerous.
Chapter 45
“You will need weapons,” Azuri advised.
Kian’s hand fell to his side, and he felt more naked than he had moments before.
Hya nodded toward the bed. “Under the mattress, you’ll find what you need-though it might not be what you want.”
Kian dragged the mattress off a layer of splintery gray slats. Shoving these aside, he saw the gleam of steel. More, he saw rust, in great amounts. He did not bother asking her why she would have such a collection. He took only as much time as he dared in choosing out a dagger and sword. Both had good weight and decent balance, as well as scabbards. Of their rust-pitted blades and cracked leather hilts, there was nothing for it. And besides, he was not sure just how much use they would get anyway. Against Varis, the powers that had created mankind, and perhaps the very universe, would be the weapon of choice. Kian offered up a wordless plea to the silent god, Pa’amadin, to grant him the wisdom and skill to wield such godly powers this time, where he had failed before.
At Kian’s nod, Azuri led them into the dim hallway, where they halted at the crash of a door kicked inward, then watched two grubby men edge into the shop. Lost in the shadows, Kian and the others remained hidden, preparing to ambush the shadowed figures. But before the intruders fully crossed the threshold, a shout turned them. Curses went up. A flash of steel-glowing orange from some unseen fire-streaked and slashed, and one of the men in the doorway let out a garbled squawk, reeling backward with blood gushing from his throat. His companion roared, made an ineffectual stabbing motion. His unseen foe parried the strike and countered smoothly, leaving the man shrieking, even as his sword and severed hand hit the floor with a clatter. An instant later, the screams were cut off by wet gagging noises, as the man choked on a foot of steel buried in his neck.
With quiet urgency, Kian turned the opposite direction and ordered the others after him. He did not retreat out of fear, but rather need. His battle was with Varis, not the rabble of the Chalice, the House Guard, nor Prince Sharaal’s forces.
Kian led his incongruous band into the makeshift stable. Without question, the air was colder than it had been when they arrived, colder than Kian could ever remember, even in Izutar. Their mounts’ rolling eyes reflected the orange light of nearby blazes whipped into infernos by howling winds.
Azuri squeezed past the others to peer out through a crack in the wall’s planks. “The fools are burning everything.”
“Madness!” Hazad said again, as that seemed accurate enough.
“Anyone in the alley?” Kian asked.
“No,” Azuri answered.
Kian did not hesitate. In one swift motion, he kicked the rickety door. Although just short moments before his strength had been in question, he now felt fully recovered, as if he had never been near death at all. The force of his blow ripped the hinges loose, and the snow-laden gale sent it flipping down the alley like a leaf.
“Do we ride or go afoot?” Kian asked sharply.
Hya, gaping at the chaos wrought by the storm and the hands of men, turned slowly. “By foot,” she said, pointing down the alley at a crumbling mud brick wall.
Kian dragged the borrowed dagger free of its scabbard, slashed the horses’ lead ropes, then swatted their rumps to send them out into the storm. He hoped that their pounding hooves would hide his company’s escape down the dead-end alley. He also prayed Hya had not lost her wits, and instead of escape was leading them into a trap.
Hya shook her head, and then moved with unexpected sprightliness into the biting storm, the others hard on her heels. Snow had already drifted against stacks of rubbish along the length of the alley, the pristine white speckled in brownish red grit and dark ashes. The bone-cracking chill shocked Kian’s mind to a preternatural clarity. He glanced about in anticipation of an attack. None came, but harried screams and shouts of command soared to them on the gale’s breath. Men and women ran hither and yon before the mouth of the alley, and their freed horses bowled over several people. No one stopped to help their fellows, and none looked down the alley.
Ellonlef moved to his side and drew her dagger. In the erratic light, a glimmer of ferocity shone in her eyes that he would have expected only in a hardened warrior. He could almost pity any enemy that might happen across her path. Unable to resist, he flashed her a smile, which she returned.
From behind, sounds of a brief, violent scuffle drifted out of the shop. A moment later, Azuri stepped free of the shadows, the end of his sword bloody. Shaking his head, he said, “We must be cautious. It seems the people of the Chalice have lost their minds to a sickness cured only by fighting.”
Hya motioned for the others to follow her. Hazad trailed her like a huge mastiff. At the end of the alley, she instructed him to heave aside a haphazard stack of rotting hides. Hazad slammed his sword into its scabbard, caught hold of a bundle, and hurled it aside. As Hazad labored, he revealed a small half-door set low in the brick wall. Its iron banding was rusted, the wood coated in ancient mold and fungus, but it looked strong and thick.