Witch King, page 36
“Still east, Ziede?” Dahin asked.
“Yes.” She sounded odd, and Kai looked up to see her frowning at the stone.
Dahin laughed. “It would be ironic if we were heading toward Benais-arik! To be going to the same place that Bashasa took us when we escaped from here the first time.”
“Yes,” Ziede said grimly, meeting Kai’s gaze. “That would be ironic.”
THE PAST: THE JOURNEY
The Prince-heirs of the Arike city-states were always drawn from powerful families, inheritors of a martial tradition that had been fading … Scions of these families could be risen to the status of ruling Prince-heir through a combination of approval by a council of artisans and tradesman, support among the other contending families, and acclaim by the city’s population. Candidates had to be well-known, active in good works and the business of their city, and successful Prince-heirs would serve for a term of some years. This system was much open to manipulation, and competition among the eligible families could be intense, but violence was rare and not well-regarded …
… after wholesale slaughter in the Arkai, the Hierarchs decided that the Arik’s command of trade routes and their artisans and farmers were more useful alive than dead. At least for a time.
—Journal of Hiranan Desal, late Prince-heir of Seidel-arik
Kai woke, cramped and sweaty. The sudden cessation of motion had jolted him out of sleep like a kick to his ribs. It was night, lit only by starlight and a half moon, and he was curled up on the wooden floor, still crammed in against the bow. Sleepy voices, complaints, groans of pain sounded from the rest of the palanquin. He registered that it was Bashasa who was moving around. “What happened?”
“We’ve crossed the river,” Bashasa said, silhouetted against the night sky as he reached for the cables. “We mean to make camp, but we have to destroy the bridge so the legionaries who will inevitably pursue us will have to cross further downriver.”
“Do we have time? How far behind us are they?” Kai levered himself up. His clothes had dried everywhere except where the fabric had been pressed between his body and the floor of the palanquin, and his side was unpleasantly damp. He kept blinking, waiting for his dark vision to adjust. Then realized it might not.
He was in the wrong body and he had killed one Hierarch and helped kill a second and it hadn’t fixed anything. Kentdessa was still dead and he would never be Saredi again. He wanted to curl up like a wounded animal but that wouldn’t fix anything either. But even with all that, he felt better than he had before getting on the wallwalker.
“Ziede has been scouting, and has seen no pursuit as yet.” Bashasa started to step over Kai. “Which means we were right and the legionaries in Stios went first to the Summer Halls, having no better orders.”
A lot of people had been sleeping on the floor and were now waking in confusion, and there was no room to move. Kai grabbed Bashasa’s leg, guessing that if he didn’t then Bashasa would be out of the palanquin and he would have to chase him to get answers. “How are you going to destroy the bridge?”
Bashasa wriggled to get free. “I have no idea! I doubt anyone among us has firepowder. I’ll have to consult with the others.”
Kai held on, letting Bashasa drag him into a sitting position as he tried to get to the palanquin’s door. “Is the bridge made out of wood?”
Bashasa stopped, then leaned down to peer at him. Salatel bumped into his back. She was maneuvering around, trying to kick the other soldiers awake without hitting anybody else. Bashasa said, “Parts of it. What are you thinking, Fourth Prince?”
“That it needs those parts to keep from falling down,” Kai said.
Kai was far more motivated to get down from the wallwalker than to climb it, and once he managed to unfold his cramped legs he swung easily down the netted side. Bashasa took the little stairs. Salatel followed as other soldiers spilled out from the lower compartments, and they all reached the ground at the same time.
The wallwalkers had stopped in a field with sparse grass and gravelly soil, stands of tall trees that were just dark shapes outlined against the night sky. Night birds twittered and swooped overhead, disturbed by the arrival of three wallwalkers and a lot of exhausted mortals. The smell of water and river mud was heavy in the cool air. Kai’s night vision was a little better out here, but then the roof of the palanquin wasn’t blocking the moonlight. This might be as good as it would get. The ability to see in the dark could be a part of his demonic nature that had been left behind with Enna.
Bashasa spun around, getting his bearings in the dark. “This way!” Salatel and the soldiers hurried after him as he strode off toward the line of trees.
Kai followed. As they came around behind the wallwalker, he tripped on a broad square stone. This was the road, then. He grimaced, flexing his abraded foot. This was going to take getting used to.
The group followed the road back toward the river and the rush of water. More figures waited at the gap between the trees and he recognized Tahren’s tall figure, the moonlight glinting off her hair. The river was a broad expanse of darkness flecked with silver. A number of voices were arguing in Arike, almost drowning out a chorus of frogs in the rushes. Ziede’s voice, pitched to carry, demanded in Imperial, “Do we know what we’re doing?”
In the sudden silence, Bashasa said, “The Fourth Prince has a thought.”
Ahead, where the road met the edge of the bank, the bridge slanted up, a wide shadow across the gleaming band of water. It stood high on stone pilings, but there was no arch or railings, just a flat surface of wood. Kai had seen a number of bridges in the fighting in Erathi and the borderlands, and he admitted he had been thinking of something either more decorative or more makeshift. Certainly nothing this solid and clearly meant to be permanent. Even then, the older demons had been the ones tasked with destroying bridges.
Kai walked to the edge of the ramp and leaned down to feel wooden boards and metal bolts. Bashasa had said there was no firepowder. He raised his voice to ask, “Does anyone know about this bridge? Or bridges like this? The most vulnerable point?”
“The combines?” an Arike voice suggested.
Kai didn’t know what a combine was. He said, “Come and show me.”
* * *
This was not going to be as simple as Kai hoped. Someone had to run and get lamps for them to see by as the knowledgeable Arike soldier, Nirana, kept trying to describe the way the combine supported the bridge. But none of the Arike had the vocabulary in Imperial to let Kai understand. They quickly established that no one nearby had paper or anything to draw with, and that making a human diagram with the other soldiers was useless, no matter how many times Nirana held out her arms and tried to get Hartel to stick her head between them while saying, “Like this.” Kai gave up and told them, “I’m just going to climb under there and look.”
By this point Bashasa had sent a cadre of scouts across the bridge to keep an eye on the road, and then he, Tahren, Ziede, and the others had all gone off to hopefully do something else to keep the legionaries from finding them. Kai was left with Salatel and her cadre and Dahin, who had given up trying to make suggestions and was now sitting on the edge of the bridge dangling his legs. “Tell me if I can do anything,” he said around a yawn.
Kai took off his coat and skirt to make the climb easier. Even though he was still fully dressed in his tunic and leggings, this apparently scandalized the soldiers, who all quickly looked away or turned their backs. Ignoring all the offended murmuring, he climbed over the edge of the bridge down to the maze of stone pilings and wooden supports underneath. Hartel leaned over to hand him a clay ball lamp with a wire hanger, and he set it carefully on the end of a beam.
Crouching on a cross brace, he saw what Nirana had been trying to describe. The supports fit together so that if the end of one collapsed, the beam would shift and might fall. She had kept saying it was like a chair, but the Saredi didn’t use this kind of construction. Or chairs.
Kai stretched to put his hand on the end of the beam and felt for a trickle of life. It had worked on a leaf; it should work on a piece of wood. They both came from trees, which were obviously alive.
But the only life left was impossibly faint and distant, like a dim memory too faded to recall except by its absence.
Kai groaned under his breath. He had been hoping for one dramatic masterstroke that would take down the whole bridge and maybe make him feel better about his continued existence.
Ziede had said he was an expositor as well as a demon now.
He concentrated on the fire intention Talamines knew, drawing on the pain still in this body, the bottomless well the Cageling Demon Court had left in his own mind. The flame sparked on his palm, just like it had in the Temple Halls. He tried to press it against the beam. The flame winked out, leaving the wood unmarked.
Kai bit his lip. This is going to be tricky.
He passed the lamp to Hartel, then climbed back up, saying, “The word isn’t combine, it’s join.” But running footsteps came from the other end of the bridge and voices called out in Arike. Kai swung up onto the bridge to see the soldiers confronting a person. Young, short, with tangled dark hair and amber skin, dressed in rough practical cotton, a long wrap tunic over leggings. They might be another refugee from the Summer Halls, but Kai was certain the wallwalkers had been moving too fast for anyone on foot to keep up.
Her voice low, Hartel said, “Fourth Prince, the scouts didn’t see him coming.” She sounded troubled. “He says he’s a refugee.”
Dahin was on his feet, asking the person, “Wouldn’t you rather go along the river? It’s not safe to follow us, the legionaries will be looking for us.”
“My elder said we cross tonight,” the person said in halting Imperial. They were sweating and dusty, their broad brow creased in worry. “We have to. There’s been a message in the water.”
Dahin and Salatel looked confused. “A message?” Dahin repeated.
Kai said, “What’s this?”
The person turned toward him. Kai had lost his veil somewhere on the floor of the palanquin, and braced himself for the reaction he was beginning to get accustomed to, the startled fear or repulsion. But the person gasped a little in something like relief and said, “Please, the wagon is broken. The others are coming on foot. Just give them time to cross.”
Salatel glanced at Kai, and he realized she was asking his permission. Was he actually in charge of the bridge now? Whose brilliant idea was that? Probably Bashasa’s. Kai told her, “It’s going to take me some time to destroy the bridge.”
Salatel considered. “You ran here?” she asked the person. “Your people can’t be far behind you.”
“No, I…” They hesitated, uncertain. Then glanced at Kai. Their hands moved in Witchspeak: I swift-traveled.
Kai hadn’t seen a Witch other than Ziede since the clan tents had burned. You’re all Witches? he signed back.
More Arike were coming up the bridge from the camp, but Kai’s attention was on the person’s hands. Not all, a few. We were trapped in this region when our ship was destroyed and have been hiding in the empty lands. Our elder read the stream water and said the Summer Halls were dead. They told us to follow this road east to meet the future. Please wait?
We’ll wait, Kai signed. Can you tell me how long it will take your people to get here?
Their hands moved in a Witchspeak sign that Kai had to convert into Imperial reckoning. More Arike had just arrived, soldiers and a few others. Salatel stepped aside for Bashasa’s cousin Dasara. “What is this?” Dasara asked.
Kai told him, “We need to wait for the rest of their people to catch up and cross. A few hours.”
Dasara made a sharp gesture. “No. Destroy the bridge now.”
Kai hissed out a breath, and did not grab Dasara by the face and drain his life. This stupid young mortal was related to Bashasa by blood, he couldn’t just kill him. Bashasa was using Kai for his own ends, but he had been kind about it so far. And it would start a fight between Kai and all the Arike, which he would lose, and it wouldn’t help Ziede or Tahren or Dahin or any of the other desperate people fleeing for their lives.
And the last thing Kai could afford to do right now was show any weakness, including admitting that he wasn’t sure he could destroy the bridge at all.
Salatel’s expression had gone blank, and her cadre were uneasy or wary, dreading and anticipating the next few moments. Dahin took a step backward, then another, then turned and pelted down the bridge back toward the soldiers on guard there. Probably he was going for Tahren, to help stop Kai if he started killing Arike.
Kai hadn’t responded immediately and Dasara was mulish and impatient. He said, “You heard me!”
Kai had heard him all right. He said, “Why?”
Dasara had obviously been prepared for a response, but that wasn’t it. He opened his mouth, then managed, “Why what?”
“Why not wait? You don’t think Witches can help us fight?” Kai planted his hands on his hips, trying to look in control of the situation and not like he was stalling while frantically trying to think of a way out that didn’t involve a pointless battle.
Dasara made a sharp gesture, his expression thunderous. “There’s no time.”
This was firmer ground. “Bashasa said there is time. Ziede’s been scouting from the air, the legionaries aren’t coming yet.”
Someone in the back said something in Arike. Kai made out Dasara’s name and the Imperial word for demon.
Dasara ignored them, stepping closer. “Who do you think you are?”
It would have been more daunting, if Kai wasn’t sure now that Dasara had no more idea what he was doing than Kai did. He was just a princeling who had seen a moment of potential weakness and wanted to exploit it. Kai made himself smile. “The only one who can destroy the bridge.”
Dasara’s jaw went tight and he leaned forward. Kai had no idea what would happen next and he was fairly sure Dasara didn’t either.
“Dasara!” Bashasa jogged up the bridge, followed by a scatter of his soldiers and Dahin. The other Arike hastily cleared a path for him. “Dasara, this is not complicated. I’m sending Arava back with a wallwalker to bring these Witches more quickly. The Fourth Prince will wait until they cross before he destroys the bridge.”
Dasara rounded on him. “You’re going to get us all caught.” He sounded flustered, but even more determined, which made Kai wonder if he really was that stupid. Anyone with any sense would have been glad of the chance to back out of this standoff.
Bashasa stopped a few steps away. “I am not arguing with you, Dasara. I need your cadre to help guard the perimeter, go and see to it.” His voice was firm, as calm and affable as ever. He turned to clap Dahin on the shoulder. “Your sister would like you to stop looking for trouble. Perhaps you can help Okosh put up a tent.”
Dahin was startled. “Oh, but I’ve never done that before.”
“Time to learn.” Bashasa gave him a gentle push to get him started back down the bridge. Dahin went, but he was walking backward, still watching the confrontation.
Dasara hadn’t moved and Kai thought he could see an edge of calculation in his expression. Sounding more sure of himself, Dasara said, “I don’t agree, cousin. I think you’re being reckless and you could get us killed.”
With a sinking feeling, Kai thought, Oh, now this is about forcing a confrontation with Bashasa. He hesitated, caught between distracting attention back to himself and not knowing if that would just be playing into Dasara’s hands.
Then Bashasa turned back and met Dasara’s gaze. Kai watched the personable, slightly dizzy Bashasa, the man who changed tactics to get around every roadblock as swiftly as a startled lizard, disappear as his expression went flat. Bashasa said, “Is that what you think, Dasara?” His voice was gentle and even, as if this was a serious question that he really wanted the answer to. “And what should you do about it?”
Something passed through the soldiers, the others watching, even those who had come with Dasara; their tension leaked away and they were quiet and waiting. Whatever happened next wouldn’t be up to them.
Dasara lifted his chin, but what came out was, “I have to report to Mother.”
It would have been funny, but everyone here had too much sense of self-preservation to laugh. Bashasa’s gaze brightened and he said, “Of course!” He clapped Dasara on the shoulder and somehow turned him around and got him pointed in the right direction. “Keep her apprised! I’ll be back in a moment.”
Dasara strode away down the bridge, his followers splitting off to hurry in his wake.
Bashasa clapped his hands and turned to Kai. He looked slightly over Kai’s head, avoiding his gaze. “Fourth Prince! Is all well here?”
Kai wasn’t going to ruin this by voicing his doubts. “It’s fine. Uh, I know how to destroy the bridge, but it’s going to take some time.”
Bashasa nodded sharply, still not making eye contact. He was flushed a little and Kai got the sudden impression that he was embarrassed by the altercation with Dasara. Embarrassed to have to show just how much raw steel lay under his affable exterior. “Can the Witch speak Imperial? Someone must guide Arava to the stragglers so she can carry them here.”
The Witch had taken cover behind Kai. He nudged them back out toward Bashasa. “Yes, they can.”
“Good, good.” Bashasa motioned to the Witch. “Come on, come with me. We will get a wallwalker to go back for your people.”
The Witch looked at Kai, who signed, You can trust him. He was surprised how readily the words came. He did trust Bashasa. It was unexpected, and a little frightening.
The Witch gestured, Thank you, and added a sign Kai didn’t recognize. They followed Bashasa, who was already jogging back down the bridge.
Kai, Salatel, and the cadre were left standing in the circle of lamplight, the flow of water below the only sound.
Salatel said, “Please put your clothes back on, Fourth Prince. At least—” She gestured and Hartel held out his skirt.
