Well, he thought as Hunnul trotted along the stone-paved road toward the main gate of the city, he would have to take his chances. He only had to survive Tyrranis’s hospitality until tomorrow night. He looked toward the high city walls, where the late afternoon sunlight glinted off the helmets of the guards walking along the battlements, and he wondered how long it would be before someone realized a clansman was riding into their midst.
The road Hunnul was on was an old one, a major thoroughfare between Actigorium, Sar Nitina, and other cities to the north and south. Dating back to the days before the Tarnish Empire, the road crossed the Miril River and established the town as a busy Chadarian trading center. The invading Tarns had immediately seen the benefits of the town and its intersection of road and river. They had thrown out the Chadarian ruler who occupied the city and proceeded to strengthen and modernize it with fortifications around the city limits, paved roads, aqueducts, improved port facilities, and a large Tarnish garrison of five hundred men, or half a legion, under the command of the provincial governor.
The day that Valorian walked Hunnul along the road was an important one for Actigorium because a big caravan had just arrived from the provinces in the north, and a large market was planned for the next day. The road was crowded with wagons, carts, hawkers, livestock, riders, palanquins, and pedestrians, all making their way to the city to be on hand for the market. Although the rough-looking clansman on the big black horse drew many glances, the Chadarians were too busy with their own prospects to worry about a stray clansman. The other people—the merchants, Sarcithians, travelers, businessmen, and the inevitable thieves and riffraff who gathered at a big market-did not know who Valorian was and couldn’t have cared less.
Thus he was able to ride up to the very gates of the city before anyone tried to stop him. The gateway of the main entrance into Actigorium was wide enough for two large freight wagons to pass through side by side, and high enough to allow the tallest hay wagons, banners, or stilt walkers to pass underneath. But it wasn’t big enough to avoid traffic jams at market time. The heavy crowd flowed well enough until it reached the narrow bottleneck of the gate, but then it swirled into a tangled, noisy, often angry mob of people and vehicles jostling for position to enter the city. The five Tarnish guards tried their best to direct the crowd through, but they were overwhelmed by the late afternoon rush. They didn’t see Valorian until he was already past the walls and through the open gates.
“Sarturian!” he heard one of the soldiers shout. “There’s a” clansman. He’s got a black horse!”
“Hey! You!” a different voice yelled at him over the noise of the traffic. “Stop!”
Valorian pretended he didn’t hear. He rode on, leaving the soldiers caught behind in the press of the crowd. There was a sudden blare from a horn at the gate. Three times it sounded, loud and resonant, over the hubbub of the city. Probably a prearranged warning signal, Valorian thought idly. He had come to give himself up, but he wasn’t going to make it that easy for the Tarns.
Hunnul followed the road on through the city, past crowded tenements, bustling shops and alehouses, stables, private homes and businesses. Valorian wasn’t familiar with Actigorium, so his brother had told him the basic layout of the city. In the center, like the hub of a giant wheel, was the huge, permanent open-air market. The main Tarnish garrison was housed in the old Chadarian tower to the north, near the river. The tower was actually a sprawling stone edifice that held an armory, barracks, and dungeons. Near the garrison along the river were the wharves and warehouses. The affluent residential areas, as well as Tyrranis’s palace and personal estate, were to the west of the city. The main gate Valorian had just entered was in the south with the major business districts. Valorian knew he had only to follow the road to the market and turn left. If he wasn’t accosted along the way, he would eventually reach Tyrranis’s heavily guarded front door.
Valorian was rather hoping he could escape the soldiers’ vigilance long enough to knock on Tyrranis’s front door.
Unfortunately the warning signal from the front gate had alerted the city patrols, and they finally caught up with him in the market. Three separate detachments came cantering along different roads, scattering people in all directions.
“You there, clansman! Stop where you are!” the commander yelled.
Valorian noticed six or seven drawn bows pointed in his direction and the same number of swords in the hands of the men riding down on him. Sighing, he told Hunnul to stop, and he waited for the soldiers to catch up.
In short order, the Tarns had him off his horse, his arms tied behind his back, and his legs in chains, even though Valorian did not offer any resistance. The clansman paled with anger and humiliation.
Hunnul was furious at his master’s treatment. He lashed out with his hooves and teeth at anyone who came too close. Valorian managed to shout at the horse to stop before the soldiers shoved a gag in his mouth. The big horse squealed in fury, but he settled down and allowed himself to be roped and haltered.
One night! Valorian heard the stallion call in his head. That is all I will wait. Then I will get my mares and come for you!
The clansman was glad for Hunnul’s feelings as he watched his horse being led away. The proprietary instincts of the stallion combined with his enhanced intelligence made him a surprise weapon the Tarns wouldn’t expect.
Just then the soldiers tied a blindfold over Valorian’s eyes, rendering him virtually helpless. This is going too far, he thought as they picked him up and slung him painfully over the back of another horse.
It wasn’t easy bringing his temper and composure back under control while bumping like a sack of grain on a packhorse through crowds of jeering people, but through sheer willpower, Valorian was calm by the time the troop of soldiers trotted their horses into the spacious courtyard of Tyrranis’s palace. He managed to retain his control while they dragged him off the horse and shoved him, stumbling and blind, toward the porticoed front entrance.
The next thing he knew, he was in what sounded like a large room full of the noises of running feet, shouted orders, and excited voices.
Suddenly slow, measured footsteps came toward him, and the room fell silent. The blindfold was yanked off Valorian’s eyes. The first thing he saw was a hard, bony face of harsh angles and menacing, deep-set eyes staring at him from only a hand span away. He forced down an urge to shudder and met the eyes glare for glare.
“Remove the gag,” the face said, “but keep your weapons on him.” The soldier to Valorian’s right tentatively pulled the gag out of his mouth. The clansman glanced around at the ten or eleven soldiers clustered around him and was startled to see how tense they all seemed. Rumors of his magic had obviously spread.
“Who are you?” snarled the man in front of him.
From his full armor and his commanding attitude, Valorian guessed this was General Tyrranis. “I am the one you have been seeking. I understand you wanted to see me,” Valorian replied, his voice level.
“We have wanted to see you since last autumn,” Tyrranis said sardonically.
“Why didn’t you just ask? It wasn’t necessary to slaughter my family.”
“But it worked.”
Valorian curled his lip. “Yes. So now I am here, and if you would be so kind as to honor your word and let go the people you hold, I would be grateful.”