strengthening goes on now, and soon, I think, shall be unpassable.”
That raw young sorcerers were taken from their College was indeed true-but that the Sentinels should soon be unpassable? I must wonder at that: we Dhar knew nothing of the Ahn, save we had once defeated them and they had fled. We knew they returned out of the east, but not from where. We knew they commanded powerful magicks and that their warriors came to slay us, but nothing of their ultimate goals. Perhaps they were bent on our destruction, dedicated to the reconquest of the land that was once theirs; perhaps purposed only to revenge.
I could only nod, accepting, and hold to myself the thought that save we could destroy the Sky Lords in the air, before they reached our shores, we must forever live in dread of the Comings. An image entered my mind then of the Sky Lords locked in combat with the dragons of legend. It was an exciting thought, but fleeting and I set it aside as Cleton spoke.
He was ever more practical than I, and son of an aeldor, his thinking shaped by familiarity with his father’s warband. Pragmatically he said to Martus, “We saw those airboats as we entered the Treppanek-all three, unharmed. They had passed the Sentinels, then, and were not brought down until they closed on Durbrecht. How was that?”
“The Sorcerous College,” said our tutor. “Save for the Border Cities and the Sentinels, Durbrecht’s the greatest concentration of mages, and some of the most powerful: their work, it was. They sent their magic against the Sky Lords and slew them ere they could ground.”
He paused, and I could see from his expression he was concerned that the more timid amongst us might find cause for fear. He set a confident smile on his mouth and added, “I think we could not be in a safer place. We’ve the Sorcerous College and the koryphon Trevid’s warband, both, to protect us.”
Cleton nodded, satisfied, and I heard a murmur of relief from the timorous.
Our lessons with Martus were like that: an account of a Lord Protector’s life was likely to become a debate, a discussion of
For that year we knew mostly peace. We heard of airboats burned over the Fend, and twice saw the great ships erupt in explosions of terrible fire within a league of Durbrecht. Once there was a great alarum, when an airboat grounded east of the city and Trevid sent his warband out in full force to confront the Kho’rabi. The city was loud that night, and Cleton persuaded me to an adventure.
Word had come from the Sentinels that a ship had eluded them, passed from mage to mage along the line of keeps down the Treppanek. We were told the warband rode, but even had we not received that information we should have known something was afoot, for the streets outside the College rang with the nervous cries of the populace and we could hear the thunder of urgent hooves, the clatter of armor and bridle bits. It was evening, our lessons were done, and we had eaten. Cleton and I had repaired to a secluded part of the College grounds, a storage area close by the north wall, where he continued my secret instruction in the martial arts. Since dusk, when word first came, our conversation had been of the landing and the koryphon’s response, and we were agog with curiosity.
It was late summer then, the days long and the nights light. I remember a full moon, pale yellow, hung in a cloudless sky. Our practice was interrupted by the sounds from beyond the wall, for we would halt, trying to discern what was shouted or what the latest passage of horsemen meant, and then fall to discussing what we would do, were we in Trevid’s shoes. Finally we left our exercises altogether and only listened.
Cleton eyed the wall, and in the moonlight I saw a smile curve his lips. He turned it on me, and it was like a challenge.
“We could climb that,” he said.
It was as if he made only a casual observation, but I knew him well by then. I said, “We are forbidden. Would you spend the rest of the year shoveling dung?”
He gave no answer except that smile and crossed to stand beneath the wall. After a while he said, “My father keeps his walls smooth. This is rich in handholds.”
As if experimenting, he probed a crack, found another, and was soon perched like a fly above me. “We might gain the top and watch,” he called. “No more than that.”
I knew him and he knew me: well enough that he was confident I would follow. He clambered higher; I went after him.
We gained the vertex and lay flat across the width. We were on a level with the upper windows of a repository. My fingers stung where the sharp-edged niches had inflicted small cuts, and I had torn one nail. I sucked the wound as a half-squadron galloped past below us. They were mounted archers.
“They go east,” said Cleton.
“The Sky Lords grounded to the east,” I said. “They’re going to the east gate.”
Cleton nodded absently and turned his face in that direction. Durbrecht was encircled by a protective ridge, and atop that was the city wall. I could see beacons there, and a multitude of individual torches shifting and flickering in the night.
Cleton said, “It would be interesting, eh?”
I said, “Is dung interesting?”
Cleton said, “We’ve come this far.”
I said, “Yes,” and my friend was promptly sprawled across the wall with his feet probing the outer surface for holds. I sighed as he slipped over, still smiling.
The descent was harder than the climb, but we reached the street safely and huddled a moment in the wall’s shadow. A full squadron of lancers went by without a glance in our direction.
The warband was long gone by the time we reached the gate. Above us on the wall beacons burned, and we could see soldiers moving there. A squad of halbediers approached, and Cleton asked the jennym what went on. The officer returned him the suggestion we go home, leave what fighting there might be to those trained for such duty. We hung about a while, but nothing exciting arose to capture our attention, and before long we agreed we should return.
This time I thought the College wall looked higher. The moon certainly was higher, and I thought we had been longer gone than we had anticipated. I was correct.
We climbed the wall and worked our way back down the inner side. The College was ominously quiet, light showing at only a few windows. There was none at all in our dormitory as we slunk like thieves in the night along the edges of the quadrangle. We reached the door, and I was indulging in a measure of self-congratulation (and relief) when a familiar voice spoke our names.
I was convinced then that Ardyon possessed a sixth sense in addition to keen eyesight, excellent hearing, and an ability to conceal himself. I suppose they are qualities desirable in a warden. He emerged from the shadows silent as a ghost, tapping his caduceus in a most threatening manner against one narrow shoulder. Cleton and I stood rigid, like rabbits frozen by a fox’s gaze.
Ardyon stepped close, bending forward a little with his nostrils flaring. I realized he sought the smell of liquor on our breath. When he found none, he nodded and took a pace back. “Where?” he asked.
Cleton it was who answered. “We went to the east gate,” he said. “We thought it an excellent opportunity to observe the deployment of Trevid’s warband. We hoped to learn from it.”
I was impressed by his quick wits and sheer audacity. If Ardyon shared my admiration, he gave no sign. He only said, “You knew it forbidden.”
Cleton nodded and said, “I persuaded Daviot we should go.”
“No,” I said. “There was no persuasion. I went of my own will.”
Ardyon sniffed. He had a way of sniffing that could chill the blood. “At least you’re honest,” he said. “What did you see?”
“Not much,” I said. “The warband was gone and the gate closed.”
Ardyon nodded again. Then he said, “Find me when your morning’s lesson is done,” and turned away, fading back into the shadows.
So it was I learned something of the culinary arts, for our punishment this time-in addition to stable duties-was that we help in the kitchens. Being unskilled, we were set to peeling and paring, washing and scrubbing, with barely time left to snatch a mouthful of the food we readied; and in the evenings, after, we must
