'What precisely happened in Kara-Est, if it's not too much trouble to tell us?' demanded Erimenes, in a pet because the promised mayhem had failed to materialize.
The sergeant of the guard had dispatched one of the attendants to fetch a bowl of water and a towel to clean the wine from Synalon and the table. He entered without noticeable enthusiasm and began mopping up the sticky red mess. Synalon undulated beneath the caress of the cloth, making the man so nervous he dropped it three times. The last time one end fell down between Synalon's breasts. His hand shot reflexively in pursuit. Synalon raised an eyebrow at him, smiled. He threw up his hands, uttered a thin scream and fled the room.
'Now that the comic relief is over, we can get down to business,' said Rann, rapping his knuckles on the table. 'To answer your question, demon, I made preparations to evacuate Kara-Est, without advising Synalon. Then, the night before the City was to arrive overhead, I went to her to tell her the only logical thing we could do was get out.' His eyes avoided his sovereign's. 'And she refused,' said Moriana. 'Just so. As I had anticipated.' 'So what happened?' Fost asked.
'I struck her with a Thailint drug dart. The chemical acts almost instantaneously. Not altogether so, unfortunately.' He raised his right arm and drew up the tunic sleeve. The underside of his wiry arm showed angry red, as if recently scalded. 'I'll bear the marks of her anger a long time.' 'You deserved worse,' Synalon said, but without heat.
'I did what I thought best,' Rann repeated. 'We had no hope of winning. And as far as I knew, Synalon was the strongest magician alive, and the only one with a faint hope of ever commanding the power to defeat Istu. But then and there, she had no hope at all.' 'So what do you intend now?' asked Ziore. 'Isn't that obvious? We join forces against Istu and the Vridzish.'
Moriana and Synalon jumped to their feet screaming denial; the Safesure attendants stood by the walls fairly quaking in their armor. They were well-tempered men and women, normally fearless, but this was like dancing with an unconstrained fire elemental. In the commotion, Fost's gaze met Rann's and perfect understanding flowed between them. The sensation made Fost's skin crawl, but he knew that he and the prince alike knew what must be done. Sharing a thought with the likes of Rann was not something Fost found comfortable.
For all their mutual hate, for all the many ways they were opposites, both royal sisters possessed intellects on the same order as their egos – enormous. And between them they knew almost all of the magic learned by humanity over the ages. Slowly, reluctantly, they calmed and resumed their places.
'He's right,' Moriana said grudgingly. 'Alone, neither of us has a chance against the Demon. Together…' 'Together, you've scarcely more of a chance,' said Rann.
'Have you learned so much magic,' Synalon said, looking at him narrowly, 'that you can predict the future?'
'No. But I know history. Felarod and his Hundred – a hundred Athalar savants of the heyday of that city's skill in magic – couldn't contain the Demon of the Dark Ones. They had to invoke the World Spirit, and in that act almost died.' He looked from one cousin to the other. 'Recall that not even Felarod long survived his triumph.'
'I don't fear dying to defeat the Demon!' shouted Moriana. She of all those assembled had the deepest hatred of the spawn of the Void. Rann faced her coolly.
'What about dying uselessly? I don't know magic as you do, but this I know. Even if you and Synalon act in perfect harmony, you have no more chance of overcoming Istu than I have of hiking to the Pink Moon.'
'It sounds as if you're refuting your own argument,' Fost said, arguing against himself as much as Rann. 'If our joining forces won't bring Istu's fall, why should we take the risk? Either of us?'
'I'll tell you something, Longstrider,' said Rann. 'When we were antagonists I found myself wishing that we could work together, you and I. You continue to show yourself perceptive, and to prove the soundness of my judgment of you as a shrewd man, rough-edged and not well schooled in subtlety, but able. I hope we can yet work together, Northblood.'
Fost moistened his lips from his cup to hide what he assumed correctly to be the expression of unwonted pleasure. The prince was flattering him. And he seemed to mean it.
'But to your question. I still feel that the means of bringing down Istu can be found. Just because a weapon doesn't lie conveniently at hand doesn't mean it doesn't exist.'
'Istu was overcome before.' Instantly, Fost cursed himself for speaking. He was actually trying to elicit the prince's approval and had wound up mouthing the obvious. Rann seemed not to notice.
'Just so. We can find the means.' He smiled cheerlessly. 'But there's the problem of staying alive until we do.'
Moriana leaned forward across the table. She held her anger back with obvious effort, yet what her cousin said had merit.
'You've thought on the situation,' she said with only the faintest hint of begrudging it to Rann. 'Outline it for us, if you will.'
Fost nodded to himself. Subconsciously at least, Moriana had accepted the necessity of joining with those who had been her deadliest foes. Now she spoke to Rann much as she must have when the two of them fought the Golden Barbarians together, years before.
'First, 'Rann started, 'the strengths and weaknesses of our enemies. They have Istu, of course. But even the Demon of the Dark Ones has his limitations. According to the lore – and it's unanimous on this subject – Istu is in some way linked to the City itself. He's a creature of the Void, of the nothingness between suns. This world's as much a hostile environment to him as the bottom of the sea would be to us. The historical evidence indicates that he is most powerful when he is physically present in the City. Apparently, that was one reason Felarod bound him there; so strong are the forces binding him and the Sky City together that they might have drawn him forth from another prison, no matter what spells Felarod devised to hold him.
'The City itself provides severe limitations, at least to his movement. It is no longer constrained to follow the Quincunx. However, neither in the past nor in the days since Istu was freed has it ever been observed to go faster than the mile-an-hour pace it has maintained throughout the centuries. It may be able to go faster. It's safe to assume that speeding it up would tax even Istu's powers.'
He steepled his fingers in front of his lips. Even Synalon listened now, with only a trace of contempt lingering on her face.
'Now, as to the People. Their population is limited, and even given that they put whole generations into hibernation to await this moment, they still must number vastly fewer than us. They do not work well at night. As Fost's friend Oracle discovered in old writings, the caste differences among the Hissers are more than social; it takes more gestation time and special nourishment for a mother to produce a noble Zr'gsz. Thus the lower caste ones are more numerous and are physically and mentally inferior to the higher orders. You can thank that fact for your present survival, Longstrider. The common Hissers at the March just didn't know how to deal with your one- man charge.' 'I know,' Fost said glumly.
'Thanks to the Watchers, the skystone mines are in disorder, and the Hissers' military might depends on their air power as heavily as did ours. Also, the Hissers have a severe disadvantage in terms of experience. Even among the Children of Expectation there can be few seasoned officers. They simply haven't fought any wars since Riomar shai-Gallri cast them from the Sky City, and really none since the War of Powers. So, though some of them like this Zak'zar may be shrewd, we still have a considerable edge in skill.'
'You make it sound as if they were at the point of being whipped all the way back to Thendrun,' Erimenes complained.
'Not at all, demon. Our forces, such as they are, are scattered throughout the lower half of the Realm. We have concentrations in Brev and Bilsinx, but let the Sky City appear over them and they fall just as Kara-Est did. Wirix is perhaps fallen; none has heard from them, either by messenger or magical communication, in over two weeks. We must assume the worst in this instance. The Dwarves of North Keep and the Nevrym foresters have made an open alliance with the Zr'gsz; and the Empire has rotted like a melon, from the inside out. Only at its peak long ago would the Imperial Army have counted for more than a moment's annoyance to the Hissers. It's victory at the Black March was almost totally illusory. No, friend
Erimenes, even if the Fallen Ones lacked the aid of Istu we would still be like the drunk who fell in a cesspit. We'd be forced to stand on tiptoe to keep our noses out of the shit.'
A nervous look passed among the listeners. Rann seldom used such earthy expression.
'What good does all this talk of military matters do?' demanded Synalon. 'They have Istu; we have myself. And my sister, of course. What more needs to be discussed?'
