‘Wouldn’t you be?’
‘We should have torn the Catacombs down, like their other foul places.’
‘Take a closer look.’
Scanning along the base of the peak with his telescope, Rix made out a line of stone figures carved into the red stone on either side of the entrance. The effigies to the far left and right were no more than thirty feet tall, but they grew progressively taller until the pair framing the entrance — the first kings of Cythe — towered at least five hundred feet high.
‘Every king and ruling queen of Cythe for ten thousand years is represented there,’ said Tobry. ‘Save the last.’
‘Weird heads!’
Tobry gave Rix a sardonic glance.
He refocused on the statue to the left of the entrance. The red stone was crumbling, and ferns and small bushes had taken root in crevices here and there, but — ‘The head’s upside-down.’
‘After we won the war, Chancellor Nidry ordered the head of every king taken off and replaced upside- down.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a worse insult than pissing on their graves. Do you wonder that the Cythonians hate us so much?’
‘They started the war!’
‘Did they?’
Rix mentally inverted the head — an artist’s trick — and fitted it to the body. And stared. ‘But … it’s magnificent.’ He did the same for the others. ‘They’re masterpieces. The finest sculptures I’ve ever seen.’
‘Haven’t you seen their art before?’ said Tobry.
‘Didn’t know there was any left.’
‘There are a few pieces in private collections. It’s all like this.’
‘I was taught it was sentimental rubbish.’
‘I gather their art meant as much to them as yours does to you.’
Rix soaked up the figures, marvelling at the artistry of those aeons-dead sculptors. ‘But …’
‘Yes?’ said Tobry.
‘If what we were taught about their art is wrong … or a lie …?’
Tobry did not respond. Rix pulled his cloak around him, already regretting the mad impulse that had brought him here. Only ten days remained until the Honouring. If the portrait was not perfect by then it would be a public insult to his father and Lady Ricinus would be choleric. Rix would sooner have had his skin flayed off than suffer another minute of her scarifying tongue.
Lately she had been more unbearable than usual, but he was not game to ask what the matter was.
Sometimes it seemed as though his mother was afraid, though that was preposterous. He had never known Lady Ricinus to be scared of anyone.
‘Nice day,’ Tobry said laconically.
‘What are you so happy about?’ Rix snapped.
‘I’m free, healthy and there’s that beautiful bottle in the saddlebags. What more could any man want?’
‘The moment I get something
Tobry opened his mouth, again closed it without speaking. He studied the rearing peaks to the right, the steep slope on their left. ‘Which way?’
The finger rock appeared to be beckoning. Rix drew his sword and his malaise vanished — he felt as though he owned the world. ‘
Tobry stopped dead. ‘What?’
‘The rest of the inscription just came to me.’
‘That would only run halfway down the blade,’ said Tobry in a curiously flat voice. ‘Hold it out.’
Rix did so. Tobry ran his fingers along the inscription, subvocalising a revelation charm. Black letters appeared on the blade, then faded. He looked up sharply. ‘
Rix shrugged. ‘So what?’
‘It’s a notorious quote from the Herovians’
‘They’re just words, Tobe.’
‘Words that toppled a nation.’ Tobry reached out. ‘I need a closer look.’
Rix jerked the weapon away, irritated without knowing why. ‘When we get home you can look all you want.’
He rode to the rock, balanced the sword there and spun it. It stopped with its tip pointing to the entrance of the valley.
‘Not that way,’ said Tobry.
‘Why not?’
‘Trust me, you don’t want to go up to Precipitous Crag.’
‘Why not?’ Rix repeated tersely. Suddenly it was exactly where he wanted to go.
‘The woods are too thick. If we flush out something big and it gets between us and the entrance … Spin it again.’
On the second spin, the sword pointed the same way.
‘I’ve heard there’s good hunting up at the Crag,’ said Rix.
Tobry twitched the reins; his horse danced backwards on the narrow path. ‘For us, or for them?’
‘I need this, Tobe.’
‘Why, exactly?’
Rix swallowed. ‘Yesterday’s nightmare wasn’t like the others. It — it’s as though something is taking control of me, and when I’m at the palace I can’t fight it. I’ve got to fight, Tobe, or I’m dead.’
‘All right. Give it another twirl.’
This time the blade kept spinning, and spinning, for at least two minutes. Rix gave Tobry a suspicious glance. ‘Are you using magery?’
‘Who, me?’ Tobry said in injured tones.
‘Well, stop.’
The blade stopped, pointing towards the slot-like entrance.
‘You’re right about that sword,’ said Tobry. ‘I don’t like it either.’
CHAPTER 11
As Rix took his sword back, the shadows dwindled and the nightmare faded. ‘Oddly, I feel better when it’s in my hand.’
He swept it through the air. He was not a reckless man — unlike Tobry when one of those dark moods overcame him — but now Rix longed for the cleansing of violent action.
‘And that doesn’t bother you?’
‘Why should it?’
‘Where did you say the sword came from?’
‘No idea. It’s been in the family for ages.’ Rix was irritated by Tobry’s persistence. ‘Let’s go hunting.’
‘Not up there.’
‘There are more predators around than last year, and they’re hungrier.’
‘Stands to reason, with the winters getting harder every year. But I don’t — ’
‘Winter is weeks away, yet they’re already attacking our outlying steadings and killing our serfs. Our scouts say they come from the Crag.’
