The Unsound Prince Page 20

  It was unlikely they would get lost. The road ran as if it had been ruled on a page, and it was right next to the aqueduct bringing water to Jik. The dark stone channel lying on the salt was hard to miss. Mudge could see it narrowing to a dot in the distance, somewhere near the edge of the Great Salt Lake.

  Arnima moved up to walk beside Mudge.

  “What do you think about us stumbling on the son of the governor like that?" she said quietly.

  Mudge trudged on. He drew his greatcoat around him, against the increasing chill of the night. He hadn't really thought about the appearance of the boy. Onjed’s situation just seemed like it needed to be fixed. It had been more of a ‘what to do’ problem than a ‘why did it happen’ one.

  “Nothing is by chance," Arnima prompted him. "All things are connected. The task for us is to decide when to act on what we see, and when the right time hasn’t yet come."

  Mudge nodded. His father had talked about something similar. The Legatus had talked about a force outside of what spirit walkers knew. A kind of universal force that acted behind the scenes.

  Mudge had to admit finding the son of Usef Bey suggested such a thing. The odds must be phenomenally against it

  “We get help if our cause is just and our hearts believe in it?” he ventured.

  Arnima laughed. “Near enough,” she said. “It’s always hard to put such things into words, but when the situation is at its most impossible, that’s when the cards fall in your favour.”

  Mudge nodded. He would remember that. The two of them walked on in companionable silence, while Mudge recalled examples of when impossible things had changed the course of events.

  A dark mass grew out of the night ahead of them. Mudge momentarily thought it might be a garrison outpost, full of Xaanian troops, but the dark shape didn’t seem to get any closer as they trudged on.

  “The Teeth of Kormac,” said Arnima beside him. “Just high enough to collect a little rain from the westerlies, and feed the springs Xianak relies on. The mountains must have been higher once, high enough to produce the river that ran out into the desert, and created the Great Salt Lake.”

  She paused. “The springs don't flow like that now.”

  Mudge remembered the old legend concerning the birth of Xaan. Kormac was a nomadic chieftain, who discovered mountains in the middle of the Endless Desert. The land around the mountains was a fertile place, and eventually he moved his people there.

  Kormac and his people held the new land against all comers for centuries, and his people grew into the great trading nation of Xaan. Though that prosperity had not continued, with its fortunes declining in the last hundred years.

  Something clicked in Mudge’s mind. He realised why Ottar Bey had risen to power, and why the Empress had been able to gain a hold in Xaan.

  The people wanted their old prominence in the world back. They wanted to be wealthy again, and they had been prepared to do anything to live well like their ancestors. Or the way they imagined their ancestors had lived, since human desire usually twisted the facts.

  That desire for more had thrown their country into war, and it would destroy so many of them, reflected Mudge sadly. Such was the nature of human greed, and ignorance.

  The road become rougher underfoot, and it began to climb. Then it veered away from the aqueduct. Mudge realised they had left the salt plain behind. The night had grown dark as the moon set behind the Teeth of Kormac.

  It was now almost impossible to see the road at all. Ochren drew them off the rough surface and into the scrub that cloaked the foothills of the Teeth. They stopped to sleep for a while when he found a hollow, hidden among the hills.

  Barely had they settled down when Mudge felt the presence of the Keeper Stone again. His mind had been on more mundane matters crossing the Great Salt Lake.

  It directed him to the map in his mind, the spirit reference that showed him the positions of all spirit beings, and all events of power. In the foothills ahead of them, coming from Xaan, was a column of horse archers. It was led by a Sarkosay. Mudge couldn’t miss the swirl of red and black energies that headed the column.

  Someone at Jik had sent word to Xianak, and not long after the travellers had arrived in the town, judging by the swiftness of the response. Ottar Bey must have spies everywhere. The question of how to enter Xianak unnoticed was getting more difficult. In fact a lot of things were going to get more difficult as they worked their way deeper into enemy territory.

  Mudge cast a spirit veil over the camp in the hollow. It wasn’t long before the column of archers passed noisily by, their hoof beats echoing back as they followed the road out over the Great Salt Lake. The Sarkosay at their head hadn’t detected the hidden camp, and that reassured Mudge all the more about the power of the Keeper Stone.

  He slept restlessly during the night. Dreams of a giant red and black figure standing triumphantly over Xianak tore at his heart. It had taken on a different appearance now. He recognised the tall, smoky black shape of the Empress.

  This time, the malevolent figure was looking for him. It cast restlessly this way and that in its search. Sparks of red and black fire lit up across the countryside as its agents searched for him and his companions.

  Mudge could feel, even in his dream, the Keeper Stone maintaining the spirit veil over the camp. He relaxed a little. Still, the Empress knew him now. She would be better prepared for their next meeting. And so would he, thought Mudge grimly.

  Then Luce and Jago were there, trying to tell him something. They were telling him he had to put his trust in others, especially his friends in the hollow. He had to stop trying to take the weight of the world on his shoulders. There was a reason for everything, even the appearance of the Empress, if he could but find it.

  A little later in his dream the Keeper Stone was talking to Luce and Jago. Mudge wondered where exactly he was. Shifting images floated past. Now perhaps a boat on a lake, now a room lit by a golden sun. The Keeper Stone took a human form briefly, but it flickered in and out of focus, as if this was not a natural state for it.

  The morning came too quickly, and Mudge realised the broken sleep and night travelling were catching up with him. Breakfast was more of the slave gruel. It was all they had left from Jik. Once they’d eaten, Ochren gathered them around the cart.

  “We have to work out how to get into Xianak,” he said.

  “The Empress knows there’s a group of us, and she also knows we have this cart. On top of that the rash from the spotted lungwort is wearing off, though I'm sure Arnima could fix our disguises," he said, turning in her direction.

  "The problem is the Xaanians are looking for a group of slaves now, so that disguise won't get us much further anyway.

  "Anybody got any ideas?" he finished.

  The resulting suggestions varied from moving at night, to disguising themselves as farmers and separating into twos and threes. Mudge, though, was wrestling with his conscience. He didn't want the others to keep risking their lives to help him.

  "I would never have got this far without your help," he said at last, “but we're less than a day's march from Xianak now. I can find my way from here. I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to do once I get there. Maybe it's best if I work my way inside the gates, and just see what happens.

  "The rest of you are in a perfect position to spread out and gather information on Xaanian troop movements. That will be invaluable to the Legatus when you report back to him."

  The rest of the company looked at him like he was mad.

  "So you suddenly speak Xaanian now?" said Senovila dismissively.

  "And what if the thing you're supposed to do requires a backup team?" said Bear, in a more kindly tone.

  "You're not going to get rid of us that easily," said Arnima with a smile. She understood at once that Mudge was just concerned for their safety. He wasn't saying the mission would go any better without them.

  "Butha would help us!” said Onjed, sitting on the cart. The others turned toward him.
They'd forgotten the boy was even there. Ochren was about to ignore his suggestion when the boy rambled on.

  "Butha was my nurse. She lives in a small village just outside Xianak, with her husband. It's on our way, and they were very loyal to my father.

  “They have no love for Ottar Bey, or the new order. Butha knows everything about Xianak. She would know what to do."

  Ochren paused. It wasn't a bad plan at that, at least in the short term – if the boy’s assurances could be trusted. After a discussion of the advantages and disadvantages, it was agreed this could be the next step.

  "Clean yourselves up as best you can," said Arnima. "See me for something to clear up the rash if any of it still remains."

  "After that we'll gather some herbs and spices," said Senovila, nodding craftily. Arnima smiled at him. She could see what he was getting at immediately. The others looked blank.

  So it was that by midday a group of herb and spice sellers, spread out so no two would be seen on the road at the same time, made their way from the foothills of the Teeth toward the produce markets in Xianak.

  They didn't look that different from the day before. They looked a bit healthier than slaves, but now they had the ground-in dirt and shabby clothing of foragers. Senovila had impressed upon them the need to walk slowly, and act tired, as if they were bowed down by long hours of work and little food.

  There had been good supplies of wild herbs in the area round their camp. Senovila knew the poorer soils near the salt plain produced them in abundance, and it wasn’t long before they all had a large bundle to carry. They had, however, abandoned the cart, much to Senovila’s disappointment. The horses had been set free to fend for themselves.

  Mudge had tried to contact the sprites in this area, and ask them to take care of the horses, but the sprites here were completely different. A pair of pale shapes had hovered in the air before him, but he hadn't been able to get a word out of them.

  It was now the middle of the afternoon. Mudge trudged along the dusty road in the hot sun. They had all drunk their fill of water before they set out, but they had none of the common Xaanian gourds to carry. They had thought it wise to leave their League water bottles behind, and Mudge was beginning to feel the effects of thirst.

  He could hear a heavy wagon, and a team of six or eight horses, coming up behind him. It wasn’t travelling much faster than he was, and it took a long time to catch up with him.

  Mudge bent his back even further under his load, and the bundle of greenery rode higher. He tried to look absorbed in his own thoughts.

  "Shehan dai!” called the wagon driver, as he came alongside Mudge.

  Damn, a talker, thought Mudge in irritation. Senovila had given them two phrases to use in desperate situations. His first advice, though, had been to discourage all communication.

  "Shehan dai,” he replied tonelessly, keeping his head down. Hopefully exchanging greetings would be enough for the man.

  "Purdon que asdallient pro combala?” continued the wagon driver.

  "Mordam pialla,” said Mudge. He hoped the equivalent of ‘life has its ups and downs’ would be enough.

  The wagon driver launched into a torrent of Xaanian that meant absolutely nothing to Mudge. He waited until the flow dried up a little, and lifted his hand in a vaguely waggling motion. He hoped that had some meaning in the Xaanian culture.

  The man seemed to be asking a question, and Mudge shook his head. That, according to Senovila, meant the same in Xaan as it did in the League kingdoms.

  The wagon driver wasn't pleased about something, but the wagon had now moved on, and he had to look back to see Mudge. He carried on down the track, still talking to himself.

  Mudge hoped the exchange wouldn’t get him reported to the guards at the gates of Xianak, but even if it was, he didn't think one lowly forager would arouse suspicion. They would think he was touched by the sun as much as anything. He hoped the others were getting on better than he was.

  By late afternoon, Mudge had a dry mouth and a growing headache. He turned wearily left at an imposing inn with its own stables. It sat opposite an ale house. This was the turn-off he had been told to look for.

  He realised someone else from his group, Colma by the look of him, was resting a stone’s throw ahead. Mudge trudged silently past. Neither made any sign of recognising the other. It looked like Colma was having trouble with his footwear.

  A little further on Mudge saw the whitewashed wall with a tiled top he was looking for. He waited until he was past the wall, then turned down an alleyway beyond. A young man beckoned him through a narrow gate. Mudge dropped his bundle of herbs into a woodshed among some trees, and followed his guide into the back of a sprawling house.

  This was a mansion compared to the simple farmers’ houses dotted about the area, though Mudge suspected it was nothing like the brick and terracotta houses of the nobility in Xianak. Working for Usef Bey must have been well paid, if this was Butha's house as he expected.

  When he was ushered into the kitchen area at the back of the house, he found most of the others already there.

  "You need to go on more forced marches, boy," said Ochren jovially. He was enjoying Mudge’s tired and dishevelled state. Arnima scowled at her husband, and brought a damp cloth over so Mudge could wipe his face. She followed this with a jug of water.

  "This is Butha," she said, when he'd finished half the water. She pointed to a stout woman cooking over fires on the far side of the room. Mudge noticed Onjed helping her, attentive to her every request. She stroked the top of his head, and he smiled happily.

  “And this is Andrian, her husband,” said Arnima. She introduced a solid man with a ruddy complexion from years in the fields. He was wringing his hands nervously.

  “Welcome to our humble dwelling, your highness,” he said quickly. Then he bent at the knees in something that looked like a cross between a curtsy and a bow.

  Mudge realised Ochren had told the poor man his guest was a prince of the Karnatic League, perhaps even that he was a Monhoven, and related to the Legatus. He must have had his reasons for doing that, but Mudge wished he hadn't said anything. He stepped over and took the man by the hand.

  "You can call me ‘your highness’ at one of those fancy royal balls that waste a lot of time and money," he said with a grin. "For now it's ‘Mudge’, and we’re most grateful for your hospitality."

  After his initial surprise, Andrian returned Mudge's smile. Then he shook his hand vigorously. There was a knock on the door, and the young man who'd waited by the side gate for Mudge brought Colma in. Shyleen gave him a cloth to wipe away the grime of travel, then Ochren came over to talk to Mudge.

  "The old nurse is quite happy to take over caring for the boy," he said softly. Mudge nodded.

  Then Ochren added in a louder voice, “Butha’s been telling us how people in Xaan feel about the war, Mudge, and it's really interesting.”

  Butha set Onjed to stoking the fire, and handed a wooden stirrer to a young woman next to him. Whether she was a daughter or a servant was hard to tell. Then she came bustling over to join in the discussion.

  "Your man here," she said briskly, indicating Ochren, "says you're interested in what’s been going on in Xaan.

  "Well, some people are getting carried away with the idea of the glorious empire of Xaan rising again. Idiots all of them, if you'll pardon me, and more sensible people figure the cost of a ‘rising again’ isn't worth it. It's all parades and making money while the army builds itself up. Then it's funerals and families without husbands and sons!

  "And for what? Slave nation's bowing to Xaan? Is that what you or I would want for our families?”

  She looked at Mudge intently. Then she changed the direction of her argument.

  “Tell me where it’s written for any country that winning a war is a certainty. It seems to me it's a huge risk for an undesirable reward.”

  She hesitated. "I guess you can tell which side I'm on. There are too many rumours of the High Council
bodyguard up to no good, and it's not right to have those damnable Gorlen tramping around our streets like they own the place."

  "This bit about the Gorlen is especially interesting," interrupted Ochren.

  "The First Elect says they’re our secret weapon in this war,” continued Butha, “but I want to know who controls them. I certainly don't trust Ottar Bey to use them wisely, and I’m sure he came to power by unpleasant means.”

  “Mark my words,” she finished, “some nasty truths will come out before this whole stupid business is finished."

  "Describe these Gorlen to me," said Mudge gently. He wanted to steer the flood of information in a more useful direction.

  "Big damned things,” said Butha, glowering at the memory while she raised her hand over her head. Then she stood on tiptoe to increase her height. “They’ve got a funny, waxy shine to them. They look like men, and walk like men, but I don’t think they’re men.

  “When a Gorlen patrol goes by they all swing their arms at the same time, and bend at the knee at the same time. It’s all a bit too uncanny.”

  Mudge nodded. Spirit walkers in the League sometimes talked about bodies animated by slave spirits, though he knew the subject repelled them. He wondered if it could be true, and delved into his memories to dredge up what he knew about the animation process.

  If these Gorlen were shapes the Empress had brought to life, then the slave spirits that animated them couldn’t be far away their bodies. What he remembered from his studies said the slave spirit was normally touching the body it animated.

  He smiled ruefully. The only bits of his ‘schooling’ that had stuck in his memory were the gruesome bits. So far they'd been the only bits he needed!

  The prodigious strength of the Gorlen was going to be a problem for the League, and also the fact a normally fatal wound wouldn’t stop them. They would need to be dismembered to bring them to a halt. The League troops wouldn’t have time for that in the chaos of battle.

  It was desperate stuff. There had to be another way to kill them.