'We lack time to explain matter, but it is of great urgency for safety of Lady Yanseldara,' said Hsieh. 'Now, please to get on horse or stand aside.'
The leader jammed his mace into his belt and reached for the witch's hand. 'This had better not be some kind of trick.'
As Ruha clasped the man's steel glove, the crowd began to churn and close. Someone clamped a hand over the old sorcerer's mouth; then a dagger tip erupted from his chest. Hand axes and short swords appeared from under cloaks and cleaved three Elversian skulls before the Maces realized they were being assaulted. The sur- vivors turned to find themselves facing half-a-dozen attackers each.
'Ambush!'
The angry leader clamped his mailed fingers around Ruha's wrist and jerked, nearly pulling her from her mount.
Suddenly, he cried out in anguish and threw himself against the flanks of the witch's horse. She glimpsed the butt of a crossbow bolt sticking through the armor between his shoulders, then felt hands tugging at her saddle straps.
'Get away from me!' she bellowed.
Her horse reared at her thunderous command, and the grasping hands fell away from her saddle. Hsieh came up beside her, at once trampling the Maces' fallen leader and burying his square-tipped sword in an axe-man's skull. Ruha urged her own mount forward, then led the column across the intersection, scattering ambushers and bystanders alike with the might of her booming voice.
They had barely crossed before a pair of gloom- shrouded figures appeared at the end of the street, block- ing the route into the sunlit market plaza. The man was tall and broad-shouldered. He wore steel plate as black as jet and carried not a sword, but a sliver of darkness shaped like a sword. It was impossible to say what the woman looked like; she was a mere silhouette, a night phantom obtruding on the light of day.
Ruha dropped her reins and raised one hand toward the sky. She pointed the other at the phantom-woman and shook the lane with the rumbling incantation of her sun spell. Five streaks of golden flame shot from her fin- gers and arced down the street, twining themselves together into a crackling cord as thick as a man's leg.
The spell took less than three heartbeats to streak the length of the street, and in that time Ruha's galloping horse had carried her halfway to the marketplace. The fiery rope arced down to strike the shadow-sorceress. The black-armored knight stepped in front of his mistress, raising the tip of his dark sword as though he meant to split the fire.
Instead of dividing down the center, the blazing cord entered the dark blade and drained from sight. A black flash shone through the window of a street-front tene- ment; then the entire building erupted into golden flame. The conflagration engulfed a dozen bystanders and seared many more. The crowd erupted into hysteria, some howling in anguish and others wailing in terror
Those near the buildings, fearing more such explosions, pushed toward the center of the street, while those nearer the charging horses pressed toward the buildings
The witch rode into a cloud of greasy smoke, and the hor rid stench of charred flesh filled her nose. She found her self struggling to keep her gorge down, sickened more by the knowledge that her magic had helped cause the awful smell than by the odor itself.
The column had nearly reached the end of the street Ruha felt a horse flank brush against her leg and looked over to see a Shou warrior moving up beside her, sword drawn and eyes wild with battle lust. On her other flank rode Hsieh himself. The mandarin's face was almost rap- turous in its placidity, his square-tipped blade held loosely in his hand.
The dark knight raised his black sword and rushed forward to meet Hsieh. At the same time, the shadowy sorceress drew her hands up before her body, raising an impenetrable curtain of darkness around the battleground.
There was no time to rein in. Praying they would emerge in the marketplace with at least one sack of ylang oil intact, Ruha pulled herjambiya and galloped into the darkness. From Hsieh's side came the crackle of breaking bones, followed by the scream of a horse and the crash and clamor of armored and unarmored bodies tumbling along the cobblestones. Ruha heard the man- darin give a short angry yell; then a hand caught hold of her saddle, and she lost track other companions.
The witch lashed down into the black murk, and her dagger sliced harmlessly through air. The cinch strap around her horse's belly popped loudly; then her saddle came loose. Ruha felt herself slipping down her mount's flank and grabbed for the ylang oil. The cobblestones slammed into her shoulder, and her body went rigid with pain. She bounced head over heels, feet still caught in her stirrups, and came to a rest, her head spinning.
The darkness around her exploded with clapping hooves and confused voices, both Shou and Elversian. A pair of steel horseshoes grazed Ruha's leg; then a horse screamed and crashed to the street. The witch found her saddle horn. She untied the oil sack and kicked free of her stirrups. A sharp point tangled briefly in the thick cloth other aba, then pushed through and bit deep into her side.
For a moment, Ruha was too confused to realize what had happened. Then she felt a fiery sting and warm, wet blood spilling down her stomach. She screamed and rolled away, lashing out with the Jambiya.
The blade dragged. Something hot and sticky poured over her hand, and a rich, coppery smell filled her nostrils. The witch flipped her wrist and brought her weapon back to inflict the famous T-shaped wound that made the curved daggers so dangerous, but her foe had already vanished into the darkness.
Ruha pulled the ylang oil closer and clutched it to her breast. A clamorous clash of steel rang out behind her as the Shou turned to meet their cult pursuers. The witch weaved her dagger through the darkness in a blind defense pattern, but a stinging anguish was spreading outward from her wound, and her arm would not move swiftly. The oil sack felt warm and sticky against her breast, but she knew by its smell that the fluid was on1.;; her own blood. Had any ylang oil spilled, she would surely have been nauseated by its sick-sweet smell.
'Ruha?' Hsieh's voice sounded shaky and weak.
'Here, Minister.' Ruha heard someone step to her side, then a small Shou hand took her beneath her dagger arm. When it began to pull her up, she asked, 'They did not steal your oil sack, did they?'
The hand suddenly loosened its grasp, and Hsieh's voice hissed, 'I thought you had the oil.'
Ruha did not hesitate; she swung her arm up back- ward and drove the tip of her jambiya deep into the impostor's torso. The hand opened entirely and a haggi,'i scream filled the witch's ear. She scrambled to her fe ' and stumbled away as fast as she could, clutching tt ylang oil to her breast and slashing her dagger blind., through darkness. After a few steps, the witch sniffed familiar scent. The odor was fresher and not quite — i cloying as the ylang oil she had smelled in Prince Tang's spice refinery, but there could be no doubting it. She turned slightly off her course and followed the fragrance toward its source.
A moment later, the witch stepped into the sunlight and found herself staring at Hsieh's blood-spattered back. The mandarin reeked of ylang oil and still carri? '' his burst sack over his shoulder, and in his hand he he the dark knight's black sword. Ahead of him, the shan owy sorceress was groaning feebly and staggeru^ through the deserted market plaza toward a looming, black-winged shape.
After a hundred tries, Tang managed a flawless hurl Flying sideways, the golden necklace hit Yanseldara's staff, and the heavy amulet at the end whipped around and swung over its own chain. The choker slid down the shaft and stopped at the red-glowing pommel, which hung over Tang and his mother's heads like a strange, uby- flamed chandelier. The prince carefully pulled his rope taut, then walked around the ingot island to twine the line more securely about the shaft.
'This no time to stretch legs, Brave Prince.' Lady Feng positioned herself directly beneath the staff. 'Pull!'
Tang climbed to the center of the island and hauled on the rope. The staff popped free and plummeted straight toward the head of the Third Virtuous Concubine, who stepped aside and plucked it from the air without allowing the topaz to strike the ingots. Before the prince could comment on her catch, she slipped the rope off the shaft, then took a small bundle from her mahogany chest and started down the slope.
Tang gathered up his rope and empty waterskin and followed. 'The passage is long one, Esteemed Mother. It would be better if you also had air.'
'Cypress does not provide prisoners with sacks for air.'
She opened her bundle and sat at the edge of the water.
'But not to worry. With you doing work, I do not need breath.'
