landed.”
“Guess it was.”
He gave me a wary look. A look that said he once had me figured out, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“I wouldn’t have gotten out of the Timbers if not for you. So I owe you one. Just wanted to make that known.”
I rose. “Thanks. One day soon we need to have a beer.”
“That we do.” He grunted and struggled to his feet. The effort left him pale and shaking.
“You take care, Markhat.”
“Always do.”
I fought my way back through the mob of lazy soldiers and found Darla. Then we elbowed our way through the crowd. The mare looked winded and thirsty, so we ate a pair of apples and had some water ourselves while a stable boy gave our mount a meal and a brushing.
Then we hit the road again. Word among the soldiers was that the mobs had been broken and a rough sort of order once again ruled the streets. I pulled a couple of bright-eyed lads from their nice comfy chairs and ordered them to saddle up.
Time to check in with Evis and see just how bad things were likely to get.
As it turned out, I didn’t need the pair of bodyguards at all.
The fires burned out. Already, crews were pulling down burnt walls and loading debris onto wagons. Many of those doing the pulling and the loading were the looters who’d set the blazes, now working happily to restore the grandeur of Rannit under the watchful eyes of Army bowmen.
Here and there, the corpses of those who had shown reluctance to display such commendable civic- mindedness swung slowly back and forth in the wind. Each bore a sign around their neck, describing their crimes. Most read simply LOOTER. A few bore the title ARSONIST. One hapless fellow was described simply as a MAN OF LOW MORALS.
“Since when did that become a capital offense?”
Darla squeezed me hard and fast, and buried her face in my back as we passed beneath the corpse.
We were challenged, now and then, but with decorum and calm. My name got us through every time. I had mixed emotions about becoming well known as a soldier in Hisvin’s secret army.
Traffic across the Brown River Bridge was packed and slow. The bridge clowns didn’t dance. They huddled together in what looked like prayer.
The Brown below us was empty. Not a single barge, not a lone rowboat, dotted the faraway water.
“I’ve never been up the Hill,” she said, shouting.
“Time you see how rich folks live.”
I felt her shiver.
“They’re just people, like you and me,” I yelled. “Well, except for being dead. But Evis is my friend, and you’re my wife-to-be, so that means you’re perfectly safe.”
“Wife-to-be. Ha. Where’s my ring, then?”
“A good point.” I would need a ring, even for a false wedding. “I might have a few in a drawer somewhere. Trophies of my mis-spent youth. How big are your fingers?”
That earned me a punch in the small of the back.
I saw an opening in the near-motionless line of cabs and gave the mare a gentle nudge. She leaped into it, sidestepped a sleek black carriage, and within moments we were scattering angry clowns and making good time toward the Hill.
Once off the bridge, we were confronted by another barricade, this one erected by a throng of House soldiers, each with the insignia of their House sewn over their hearts. They were polite and efficient and the sight of so many silver-tipped arrows peeking over the ranks of their shields left no one in a mood to bluster.
My turn came and went without incident. A man bearing the Avalante crest took our names and waved us through, and we were let through the line and onto the Hill proper.
The Hill bristled. Each and every House was transformed overnight into its own elegant fortress. Catapults lurked in every ornate rose garden. The oaks sported archers. Lawns were thick with lancers and infantry.
Everywhere, slack-jawed groundskeepers wrung their hands and wept.
If war did indeed come to Rannit, the invaders were going to face a bloodbath, at least on the Hill.
I doubted that the invaders had a foot campaign in mind. If I were in command of a flotilla armed with cannon, I’d simply float a barge down the Brown and bombard the Hill at my leisure, smashing the Houses to bits from a safe distance and trapping the populace between the Brown and the walls.
I shuddered at the thought. Avalante might have cannon of its own, but the pair I’d seen on the lawn would prove no match for a couple of barges bristling with the things.
We rode, challenged but never detained for long. Even houses with no love for Avalante proved cooperative.
Seeing the Houses holding hands and cooing was almost as disturbing as the thought of the cannon.
What was usually a twenty-minute ride took an hour. At last we reached the familiar face of Avalante, and we dismounted while a pair of stable boys led the mare off to Avalante’s stables.
I didn’t recognize the trio of day folk who greeted Darla and I. I did note that they already knew Darla’s name. We were taken immediately to the sitting room, each given cold tea and a decent ham sandwich, and were told we would be seen to as soon as possible.
Darla nibbled. I gulped.
“I expected the House to be darker,” she said, opening her sandwich and inspecting the ham.
I swallowed.
“It’s just ham. We’re guests here. They take that seriously, even if Evis isn’t around.”
She took a healthy bite.
“It’s not bad. Not bad at all.”
“Try to think of them as business associates.”
“I know. And I do like Evis. But-”
The door opened. The door opener wasn’t a day staffer, but Victor, wrapped in black silk and peering at us through black-lensed spectacles.
“Markhat. Miss Tomas.” He executed an old-world bow, obviously aimed at Darla, since he never bothered with such niceties when greeting humble finders. “Be welcome in our House.”
Darla stuck her half-eaten sandwich in my lap and stood, extending her hand. “Thank you,” she said. “A beautiful House it is.”
Victor took her hand, very gently, and shook it twice. Darla beamed.
Victor turned to me. “I regret that we are unable to communicate with our friends on the
There is nothing gloomier than a worried vampire.
“Why? Problems with the long talker?”
Victor shook his head. “Our technical staff believes the problem does not lie here,” he said. “They are unable to determine the nature of the failure.”
“Could it be the dingus at the other end?”
“The dingus, as you name it, is far less complex than the main device, which resides here. It was designed to withstand the rigors of travel.”
Darla put her hand on my shoulder.
“Surely the House has other means of communicating?”
Victor sighed again. The sound of it was that of long-trapped air hissing from an old dry place.
“These methods, too, have failed. Sorcerous and otherwise.”
I cussed. Darla squeezed my shoulder.
“That doesn’t mean they were overtaken. Could be a lot of things. Maybe the wand-wavers from Prince are just filling the Brown with silence spells.”
“Perhaps that is so,” said Victor. His tone suggested he entertained no such notion. “But we must prepare for the worst.”
