Mar was still waiting for an answer. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “There must be more to it than that.” He blinked, eyes narrowing as he followed the pattern of his thoughts to its logical conclusion. “The Carnelian Throne’s what Lok-iKol wanted-but not what the Jaldeans want.”
“But if the New Believers want the Tarkin’s full backing…”
Gun realized he was shaking his head. “But what they’re saying about the Marked and the Sleeping God-that the god should stay asleep and the Marked are trying to wake him-none of that is true.”
“I never thought it was, but-”
“No, no. I mean they don’t believe it themselves, at least, not the ones in charge, not Beslyn-Tor. There’s something else going on.” Gun hoped Mar wouldn’t ask how he knew-in fact, he was afraid to examine the knowledge too closely, afraid that it might be yet another thing the Green Shadow had helped him forget.
“If the Jaldeans have some other trouble in mind,” Mar was saying, “we have to tell someone.”
Gun nodded. “Who?”
“Come on,” Mar said, swinging her pack up on to her shoulder.
“Where?” Gun drew himself straight and formed his hands into fists when they wouldn’t stop trembling.
“Mercenary House.”
Parno rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the cramp that threatened to spread down into his lower back. The tallest in their group, most of the tunnels and passageways-some of them apparently natural, made by the passage aeons before of water long gone, some bearing the unmistakable signs of picks, chisels, and rock hammers-were just low enough to make him walk with his head ducked and his shoulders raised. Just as he thought he’d have to ask everyone to wait while he sat down and straightened his back, Parno saw what could only be the flicker of moving light reflected off the rocks as the tunnel they followed bent to the right.
“Something up ahead,” he said to Dhulyn’s back. She was just enough shorter, he’d noticed with disgust, to walk upright through most of the passages.
“Lamplight, not torches,” she whispered back to him. “Alkoryn’s not stopping.”
Which meant the old man expected to find lights ahead of him, which meant there was nothing for the two of them to worry about. Except whether he’d ever be able to stand upright again, Parno thought.
Exhausted as they all were from close to two hours of walking from one sealed entrance to another, everyone managed a short burst of speed once it became clear there was something besides more tunnel ahead of them. When Parno finally followed them all into the lamplit room, however, he saw that they were still underground, although in a chamber large enough-with a ceiling high enough, he found, straightening gratefully-to accommodate all of them easily.
The Tarkin led his wife and children immediately to the nearest beds, making sure they were seated comfortably before leaving them in the hands of the nurse Denobea and joining Dhulyn, who had stepped around them and the guards to stand beside Alkoryn. Head lowered and tilted to one side, she listened to his whispered orders, nodding, though at one point her face went completely blank.
Something she doesn’t like there, Parno thought, maintaining his position as rear guard just inside the entrance to the chamber. With his eyes still on his Partner, he arched his back and raised his hands over his head, willing his abused muscles to stretch out.
“Lord Tarkin,” Dhulyn said, her voice pitched to carry to everyone in the chamber. “My Brother Alkoryn Pantherclaw suggests that you rest here in comfort while he and I continue to the surface. There is fuel, food, and drink. We will return or send for you as soon as we are able.”
“Why must we wait?” The Tarkin, Parno was impressed to see, was not arguing, but simply asking the question.
“It’s very likely Lok-iKol will want Mercenary House searched,” Dhulyn said. “This chamber can be closed off and hidden, so you’ll be perfectly safe here. If it comes to the worst,” Dhulyn added, “my presence in the House is natural. Yours, Lord Tarkin, could not be explained. My Brother Parno Lionsmane will remain here with you.”
Parno met Dhulyn’s eyes over the heads of the Tarkina and her children. That’s what made her face change, he thought. Is it the thought of separation she doesn’t like, or the idea of leaving me here with my cousin, the Tarkin?
She smiled at him, lifting her shoulder in the slightest of shrugs.
In Battle. Only her lips formed the words.
In Death, he answered.
He was close now. Only a matter of hours until the decrees went out. He wiped sweat from the forehead of the body he wore and shuddered. And then only a matter of days until he had all of them, even the Seer, and the danger would be over, and he could throw off this disgusting shape, and undo, and unmake. Turn the whole shape-filled place into NOT. Perhaps find the doorway once again.
“No one in without a badge, my little quails.” A dark-haired Mercenary leaned out of the sentry’s window next to the gate at Mercenary House, tapped her own tattooed badge, her green eyes flashing.
“But we’ve important information,” Mar said, craning her neck to see the woman.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt he’s got information enough-but I’m not inclined to let him in, no matter how important it might be.”
“Then let Mar in,” Gun said, placing a hand on the gate in his eagerness. He swallowed, realizing that he’d just called Mar by her personal name. Out loud. “The Lady Mar-eMar I mean. You’ve nothing against her, let her in.” He looked at Mar, looked back up to the sentry window. “You’re Thionan Hawkmoon, aren’t you?” he said. “That’s how you know me.” He waved his hand impatiently. “It doesn’t matter about me, but you can let Mar-eMar in, she needs to speak to Dhulyn Wolfshead, or-”
“Ah, so you’re the little trickster from Navra, are you? I hadn’t seen you before now.”
Any hope Gun might have had that they’d do as he asked died at the tone in the Mercenary woman’s voice.
“Listen, children, we’ve our orders, and if I was likely to break them-which I’m not-it certainly wouldn’t be for you two. And besides-”
Thionan Hawkmoon froze in mid-syllable, her attention caught by something within the walls.
“And besides,” she took up where she’d left off. “There’s an order out for both of you. Seems you ran away after the Fallen House Kor-iRok was found dead.” She looked down at them with a wink. “Don’t make me send for the City Guards, now.”
Sixteen
FANRYN BLOODHAND AND Thionan Hawkmoon were both waiting when Dhulyn swung the counterweighted chunk of flooring to one side and climbed out, reaching back in to give Alkoryn Pantherclaw a hand up.
“We’ve left the others in the lower chamber,” Dhulyn said, telling her Brothers in a few words just who those ‘others’ were. “Hernyn?” Thionan said.
Dhulyn’s lips parted, but her throat closed on the words.
“Hernyn Greystone the Shield remained behind,” Alkoryn said for her. “That we might escape.”
“In Battle or in Death,” Fanryn said after a long pause. The eyes of the four Brothers met, and for another moment they were silent, in honor of the one who had fallen. And in unspoken prayer that they should fall the same way, on their feet, swords in hand.
“Since his body will be found,” Alkoryn said, breaking their silence at last. “We can expect inquiries, perhaps even a request to search our premises before the day is out. What is it, Thionan?”
Even Dhulyn could see and recognize the slightly furtive look that had crossed Thionan’s eyes.
“About an hour ago,” she said. “I turned away the Tenebro’s tame Scholar and that Navra girl you and Parno brought, Dhulyn, telling them I’d call the City Guard on them. I was joking, but…”