ground. Vigaelia had similar creatures, although smaller. Whatever their names, they fed on carrion. As the chariot hurtled past the first kill, she caught a glimpse of a large, yellow-furred dead thing, ripped and bloody, a glint of brass. Then she saw more of them. Some of them were visibly human, some indeterminate. No black or brown ones, though. Those would have been treated with more respect.
“Last night’s losers?”
“They tried to break out to the pass,” Felice said carelessly. “Of course our leader had anticipated that and posted a full hunt here to stop them. You should thank the gods that none of them got past us.”
Thinking about that, she did not speak again for a while.
The valley was still spreading out on either side, flat bottomland carpeted with lush vegetation and flanked by cliffs receding into the distance. She was amazed at how far they had descended. The air was gentle, wonderfully easy to breathe. Florengia was much warmer than Vigaelia, Orlad had warned her, quoting his friend Gzurg. According to Dantio, much of the time it was a steam bath. Thinking of which…
“Is that steam?” She pointed at the nearest of several plumes.
“Warm springs,” Felice told her. “The source of the Puisa.”
“Who?”
He gave her an odd look. “The river that flows through Celebre. Veritano is famous for its hot baths.”
“Now I know I’m dreaming. Don’t make any loud noises.”
Soon they passed a string of chariots heading out to rescue the rest of Felice’s men. He released Fabia long enough to make a hand signal that probably meant the situation had not changed since Dimo’s report. The other leader waved acknowledgment.
Brown and black guanacos grazed in emerald fields. Obviously that was Veritano ahead, a complex of adobe buildings with red tile roofs and strange, feathery trees-and several lazy columns of steam.
“Finest place in the Altiplano,” Felice said. “Used to be a sanctuary. Lords and ladies came here to enjoy the warm springs. When the Fist took it over, Sinura left.”
“Smart goddess.”
The car rattled through an arch into a wide courtyard. Along one side many chariots stood in rows, their shafts pointing skyward. A small paddock had been railed off on the other, and men grooming guanacos there stared in surprise at Felice’s passenger as he drove past them, heading to a gate at the far side. She noted signs of neglect-tiles missing, walls crumbling, creepers and other greenery running riot. The chariot rattled to a halt.
At the gate stood a giant, fists on hips. Fabia had seen big Werists and bestial Werists, but this one was both, grotesquely misshapen and thickly furred with black hair. All of him, especially his face, seemed cruelly lopsided. A stub of horn the size of a thumb protruded from his forehead and massive brows overhung his eyes like the roof of a cavern, while his chin was lost under a toothy protruding muzzle. He wore the same sort of knee- length chlamys Felice did, but his was green, and linen instead of wool. Oddly shaped boots and a brass collar completed his attire. Could this monster be the celebrated Mutineer, the man who had outwitted and outfought Bloodlord Stralg?
He was the most repulsive parody of a man she had ever seen. Even Horold Hragson had seemed more human than this.
She liked him even less when he smiled, for that muzzle was all teeth, too many huge, onager-sized teeth. He stepped forward and offered a very large hand. Fabia had trouble not shuddering as she accepted it, noting black claws tipping the thick fingers.
Murmuring, “Thank you, Flankleader,” to Felice, she stepped down.
“Lady Fabia? I am Marno Cavotti.” He did not bow, and for her to curtsey in the rags she wore would be ridiculous.
“I used to be Fabia Celebre, my lord. I hope to be so again, once I have bathed and dressed. I am happy and honored to meet you. All Vigaelia knows your name and supports your cause.”
He bore a strong animal odor-not as repellent as Horold Hragson’s had been, but not human. He glanced over his shoulder. A woman emerged from the gate and came to stand at his side. Her simple wrap clung to an angular, bony figure. She was not young-white-streaked hair, care-lined face, penetrating eyes-but women aged rapidly during their bearing years. His wife?
She said only, “I am Giunietta, my lady.”
“I am honored to meet you.”
The second chariot had arrived. Dantio stepped down, favoring his gimpy ankle. He bowed-to the woman. “Witness Mist, sister.”
She smiled as if caught out. “Witness Giunietta, brother.”
Another bow. “Dantio Celebre, my lord Mutineer. I am greatly honored to meet you again.”
Cavotti responded with a bend of his bull neck. “I would not have known you.”
“Boys notice their elders more than their juniors. I remember you, but only dimly.”
“Faugh! My own mother would not know me now. Welcome home, lord Dantio. You arrive at an interesting time.” Again he glanced at Giunietta, and they exchanged the sort of looks that couples exchange. He was puzzled by this soft-spoken young man; she was saying she would explain later.
Orlad sprang down and saluted. He introduced himself and Waels in very stilted Florengian. Fabia noted Cavotti’s manner cool. A Florengian who had been initiated in Vigaelia was suspect. “Piero had a fourth child, as I recall.”
“Benard,” Dantio said. “He remained behind, having just become consort of Kosord.”
“Kosord? Why is that name familiar?”
Dantio grinned. “Because it was previously ruled by Horold Hragson. You want the news, my lord Mutineer? Brace yourself. Benard killed Horold with a little help from Orlad and his men. Orlad killed Therek Hragson with his own bare, er, teeth. Hordeleader Arbanerik and his New Dawn rebels took Tryfors and were poised to take Nardalborg when we left. Saltaja Hragsdor tried to flee over the pass with a large escort of Heroes. She closed the road behind her, but we closed it ahead of her, leaving her trapped near the Edge without supplies or a way out. She may be presumed dead.”
“Hands of death!” Cavotti roared. “Is any of this true, love?”
“All of it.” Giunietta clapped her hands. “Oh, most wonderful news!”
Cavotti bared teeth in a monster’s leer. “You Celebres don’t play for cakes, do you? Hero Orlad, I hail you as worthy of our god!” He grabbed Orlad in a bear’s embrace, lifting him right off the ground.
Orlad did not like that. The moment he was set down he snarled, “And you likewise, Mutineer,” and treated the giant likewise. Just to show he could, probably.
Cavotti laughed and thumped his shoulder. “The whole foul brood dead except for Stralg, then?”
Fabia did not want to reveal her suspicions yet, but she could not leave him misinformed. “A warning, my lord. I agree that Saltaja’s position seemed hopeless, but you know that the Queen of Shadows has always been a tool of the Ancient One. When we burned down the bridge at the Leap, we inadvertently left our Pathfinder on the other side. No one knows any other way to cross the Dust River, but if there is one, he will have found it for her. You should post a watch on this end of the pass, my lord, just to be quite certain.”
She had not mentioned that possibility to her companions, but their frowns were nothing compared to Cavotti’s. He said, “I will do so, with orders to kill her on sight. What comes first, my lords and lady-hot water? Food? News? Talk? Sleep?”
“You have the right order exactly,” Fabia said. She doubted they would have much time left over for sleep.
FABIA CELEBRE
was conducted to a bathing pool that would have held sixty women without a jostle. She had it to herself, in a courtyard so steamy and overgrown by feral garden that it would have been private even without the high wall surrounding it. Although paving, statuary, and stone benches were all cushioned in green moss, the water itself was clear, gushing up from a corroded bronze grating and trickling away through another. She sank into bliss, submerging totally until she had to come up for air. The gods knew that she had earned this! Nothing in her life
