held him fast.
'Talk to me, Pathkendle!' he roared.
'Talk?'
'Why do you think you're here, fool? Use your Gift! Tell me what they're saying!'
Pazel listened. But the men were only shouting things like Fast and That way and Not the horses!
'Just keep going!' he said to Ott. 'They're only — Wait! Damn! They're in the trees, Ott! They're going to shoot us from the trees!'
Even as he spoke Alyash howled in pain. A long black arrow quivered in his thigh. Somehow the bosun managed to spur his horse on. Above them, scores of voices cried out, like hounds on the hunt. More arrows whizzed about their ears. Looking back, Pazel saw the trees filled with the spotted men, climbing down head-first from the upper canopy, using the hooks they carried like claws. In a heartbeat they had dropped to the ground.
'Turn!' cried Ott. 'They will drive us into another trap if they can! We must gain the mountaintop!'
Once again they aimed their steeds uphill. The poor creatures were frothing with the effort now, their legs and bellies plastered with mud. But they ran on, and seconds later Ott's fears were confirmed. An even larger band of the Leopard People rose from the underbrush to their right: just where the horses would have carried them in another few strides.
The pursuit was fierce, but not even those born to the forest could run with the speed of horses. Soon only the fastest runners were still giving chase. Pazel heard them shout to one another as they fell behind:
Why do the horses obey them?
They enslave horses too.
They're going to the Ma'tathgryl.
They will die.
For ten minutes longer they charged uphill. Then at last the spymaster reined in his mount, and they walked, dazed and stumbling. Chadfallow rode up alongside Ott and Pazel.
'Your savages climbed higher on Droth'ulad than you reckoned with, Ott.'
'They hate us a great deal,' said Ott, grinning wolfishly. 'They take all outsiders for Volpeks, who set snares for their children and make mercenaries out of them, or hawk them to the Flikkermen.'
'Then their hate is warranted,' said Chadfallow, 'since your operations here depend on Volpek supply ships. Let me extract that arrow, Bosun, before you faint.'
'Pah,' said Alyash. 'We should not stop here. I have lost but little blood.'
'You may before we reach the summit.'
'Look up, Doctor,' said Sandor Ott.
Pazel raised his eyes, and gasped. They stood nearly at the mountain's crest. And looming over them, all but lost in the trees crowding the summit, rose a wall.
It was a clearly a ruin — but such a ruin! Pazel had seen walls as high in the great keeps of Etherhorde and Pol, but those walls lay in the hearts of mighty cities, not lost in the wilderness. And the wall before him ran east and west along the mountain-top until it vanished in the trees. The builders, whoever they were, had not flattened the ridge but carved mammoth, sinuous yellow stones to fit its curves. The effect was of something more alive than constructed.
They drew closer; Pazel arched his neck. High overhead the wall sprouted turrets and towers and vine-laden balconies. Birds flew through gaping windows; orchids flowered in cracks. Yet for a thing so clearly ancient the wall was surprisingly intact.
When they reached the wall Ott turned them east. Chadfallow trailed a hand over the mossy stone. 'In Etherhorde we have one broken column, and a bit of an arch,' he mused.
'What's that you're saying?' asked Pazel. The doctor looked at him, startled. It was the first time Pazel had spoken to him on the island.
'I am saying that this is the work of the Amber Kings,' said Chadfallow. 'That this whole great edifice was built before the Worldstorm, and survived it.'
'That's a lot to swallow,' said Drellarek.
'Look at the stonework. Only the first lords of Alifros had such skill.'
'Why would the Amber Kings want to build in the middle of a jungle?' asked Erthalon Ness.
The riders stopped their horses, staring at him. Pazel had never heard half so sane an utterance come from the Shaggat's son. Chadfallow looked the man up and down, clearly fascinated. Pazel half-expected him to take the man's pulse.
'Well?' the son demanded.
'The jungle has grown back,' said Chadfallow. 'In their time — over two thousand years ago — the Amber Kings cleared many a mountain, with fire and the axe. They built great cities atop them. Fortress-cities, whole settlements in one mighty structure. No enemy could dream of taking them.'
'No enemy but Alifros herself,' said the Shaggat's son.
'Quite so,' said Chadfallow, still more amazed. 'But the Worldstorm did not strike all lands equally. Somehow this corner must have been spared — perhaps the great bulk of Bramian sheltered it from the driving winds. In any event the Amber Kings ruled from their summit cities for hundreds of years before the Storm. By day farmers descended the slopes to grow food on terraces — those flat shelvings we crossed — and by night they slept soundly in their fortress chambers. That is what the old tales tell. Do you understand me, Erthalon Ness?'
The Shaggat's son gave a nod. Then he looked back down the mountain.
'When my father returns he will cut no trees,' he said dreamily, 'for I will ask him to be kind to the white monkeys. This will be their republic. They will bear my name.'
It was almost a relief to hear him raving again. They said no more, but walked on in the shadow of the wall. Pazel found himself wondering if a sane man lay trapped somewhere inside the lunatic. The fate seemed worse than any lightless prison. And could the reverse be true? he wondered. Do sane folk carry madmen locked in their minds?
After a quarter-hour they came to the remains of a mighty gate. The ironwork had melted away with the centuries — only a few rusty spokes protruded from the stone — and no one could say what kind of sculpted beasts crouched on the pedestals to either side. A heaving of land that might once have been a road curved away from the opening and down into the trees.
Inside the gate was a portico, roofless and choked with greenery. Just beyond it a mighty staircase ascended, also open to the sky. It climbed all the way to the top of the fortress, where the sun beat down dazzling on the yellow stone.
Ott checked his horse at the threshold.
'Water the mounts,' he said, 'and dig the stones from their hooves. Give them no food, but eat a bit yourselves. Here, Pathkendle, take the reins.'
With that he slipped to the ground, adjusted his weapons belt and ran with quick, catlike movements up the stair.
'What in the Nine Pits is he up to?' said Alyash. 'He said the fortress was our destination. Now he talks as though we've another ride to look forward to.'
'I think both may be true,' said Chadfallow. 'But now I will see to that arrow, if you please.'
The tarboys picked rocks from the horses' hooves while Chadfallow tended Alyash. The bosun never made a sound, but his face creased with agony when the doctor at last twisted the arrowhead (a barbed thing made of bone) out of his thigh. After that he was quite calm. He chatted and joked as Drellarek cut slices of bacon with his dagger, and Chadfallow plucked bits of legging from the wound with tweezers.
'Mend the trousers when you're done with the leg,' said Drellarek with a laugh. 'We want him to make a good impression on our allies, don't we? Here, boys, eat.'
'Who are these allies, Mr Drellarek?' asked Swift through his first mouthful. But the Turach shook his head and made no answer.
Pazel took his slice of gristly bacon. He was famished, but all the same he felt a stab of guilt. Eating from the Throatcutter's hand. Part of the team. Like Chadfallow, just doing a job.
By the time they finished eating Sandor Ott was descending the stair. As he reached them Pazel saw that his face was strained.
