Deadhouse Gates

She said nothing, continued rocking.



Heboric cleared his throat. 'For all I rage against their mad, fevered notions, and counsel most strongly against your accepting them ... we need these two, and the oasis. They know Raraku – better than anyone else. If we're to have any chance of surviving . ..'



Surviving.



'I'll grant you,' Heboric went on after a moment, 'I've acquired ... senses ... that make my blindness less of a liability. And these hands of mine, reborn... Nonetheless, Felisin, I'm not enough to guard you. And besides, there is no guarantee that these two will let us walk away from them, if you understand my meaning.'



Surviving.



'Wake up, lass! You've got some decisions to make.'



'Sha'ik drew her blade against the Empire,' she said, eyes still on the dusty ground.



'A foolish gesture—'



'Sha'ik would face the Empress, would send the Imperial armies into a blood-filled Abyss.'



'History recounts similar rebellions, lass, and the tale is an endless echo. Glorious ideals lend a vigour of health to Hood's bleached grin, but it's naught but a glamour, and righteousness—'



'Who cares about what's righteous, old man? The Empress must needs answer Sha'ik's challenge.'



'Aye.'



'And shall despatch an army from Quon Tali.'



'Likely already on the way.'



'And,' Felisin continued, feeling a cold breath touch her flesh, 'who commands this army?'



She heard him draw a sharp breath of his own and felt him flinch back.



'Lass—'



She snapped out a hand as if batting away a wasp, and rose to her feet. She turned to find Leoman staring at her, his sun-scoured face striking her suddenly as Raraku's own. Harder than Beneth's, without any of the affectations. Sharper than Baudin, oh, there's wit there, in those cold, dark eyes. 'To Sha'ik's encampment,' she said.



He glanced down at the Book, then back to her.



Felisin raised an eyebrow. 'Would you rather walk through a storm? Let the goddess wait a little longer before renewing her fury, Leoman.'



She saw him reappraise her, a glimmer of uncertainty newly arriving in his eyes, and was pleased. After a moment, he bowed his head.



'Felisin,' Heboric hissed, 'have you any idea—'



'Better than you, old man. Now keep quiet.'



'Perhaps we should part ways now—'



She swung to him. 'No. I think I shall have need for you, Heboric'



He gave her a bitter smile. 'As your conscience, lass? I'm a poor choice.'



Yes, you are, and all the better for that.



The ancient path showed signs of having once been a road, running the length of a ridge that twisted like a crooked spine towards a distant mesa. Cobbles showed like bone where the wind had scoured away the sandy soil. The path was littered with red-glazed potsherds that crunched underfoot.



The Toblakai scouted five hundred paces ahead, unseen in the ochre haze, while Leoman led Felisin and Heboric at a measured pace, rarely speaking. The man was frighteningly gaunt and moved so silently over the ground that Felisin had begun to imagine him no more than a spectre. Nor did Heboric stumble in his blindness as he walked behind her.



Glancing back, she saw him smiling. 'Something amusing you?'



'This road is crowded, lass.'



'The same ghosts as in the buried city?'



He shook his head. 'Not as old. These are memories of an age that followed the First Empire.'



Leoman stopped and turned at that.



Heboric's broad mouth extended into a grin. 'Oh aye, Raraku is showing me her secrets.'



'Why?'



The ex-priest shrugged.



Felisin eyed the desert warrior. 'Does that make you nervous, Leoman?' Because it should.



He glanced at her, his eyes dark and appraising. 'What is this man to you?'



I don't know. 'My companion. My historian. Of great value since I am to make Raraku my home.'



'The Holy Desert's secrets are not his to possess. He plunders them as would any foreign raider. If you desire Raraku's truths, look within yourself.'



She almost gave a laugh at that, but knew its bitterness would frighten even her.



They continued on, the morning's heat rising, the sky turning into gold fire. The ridge narrowed, revealing the ancient road's foundation stones, ten or more feet down on either side, the slope beyond falling away a further fifty or sixty feet. The Toblakai awaited them at a place where the road bed had collapsed to create large, dark holes in the ground. From one of them issued the soft trickle of water.