The Sorcery Within

XXXIV

ROCKY AND IMPREGNABLE,Xurosh loomed ahead of them. The caravan master rode up to the tollhouse, identified himself, and paid the fee. Soon the main gates opened like iron jaws and the conglomeration of humans, beasts, vehicles, and goods flowed in.

The jugglers were already at it, whirling and tossing knives to dazzle their new audience. Just behind them came the leather-maker from Shol, his pregnant wife sequestered in the coach, his slave boldly displayed on a oeikani at his side.

The guards hooted merrily, jesting boisterously concerning the best uses for the supple thighs that peeked through the slit skirt. Elenya flashed a smile back at them and flicked the cloth to show more leg. The sentries laughed, a pair of them promising to investigate the matter further when their round of duty was over.

The leather-maker arranged for quarters on the ground floor of the inn, so that his spouse would not have to climb stairs in her condition. He came back to the coach and, with the help of the slave girl, assisted the soon-to-be mother into the building. A few of the fort's residents spared them a disinterested glance before they vanished into their room.

"At last!" Lonal sighed, pulling off his veils. He began to loosen the shawl.

"Don't be so eager," Elenya cautioned. "You have to be female a bit longer."

"Yesterday would be too soon," Lonal stated flatly. "Remind me never to get pregnant."

"I don't think it's possible," Elenya said.

"I have seen too many strange things happen. I can believe anything now."

Elenya knew Lonal was actually well pleased. They had maintained their masquerade all the way from Surudain. They were where they wanted to be – inside Xurosh, with no one suspecting that they were Zyraii. Now, finally, he could do more than sit on a wagon.

Lonal began to smear animal fat on his chin and sharpen his knife to shave. One last time. It wouldn't do at this point to have someone accidentally come near enough to his veils to see the dark smudge of a beard through them. Shigmur and Elenya refreshed themselves as well.

"Have a look around," Lonal said presently. "See if anything is different than what our spies have reported."

It was not uncommon for visitors to Xurosh to tour the sights. The fortress was a spectacular edifice. Though roughly made and unornamented, its sheer massiveness was daunting. The favorite vista was from the bridge. None thought it strange to see the Shol leather-maker casually negotiating its length, his slave girl holding a broad parasol to shield him from the sun.

"They must have used thousands of men to build this in so short a time," Elenya said. The main fortress was large enough to house stables, two wineshops, an open-air bazaar, exercise yards, a brothel, and two inns, including the one in which they had left Lonal. The small keep on the other side of the gorge contained the barracks and mess hall of the permanent garrison.

"The merchants can accomplish a great deal when their profits are in jeopardy," Shigmur said.

On closer examination, the construction bore evidence of the haste of its construction. The walls were native stone, chunks of irregular rock held more by their own weight than by the mortar. Only the bridge had been hewn – some of the major corbels obviously quarried elsewhere – and set with precision. Given time and lack of interference, a group of men could literally pull Xurosh down.

But it was much better, Elenya decided, to leave the work in place. If it could defend Azuraji and Surudainese, it could defend Zyraii.

She peered down through one of the machicolations at the road below. The height was dizzying. She saw a child dribbling water from a cup over the edge. Long before it reached the earth, it separated into hundreds of small, perfect spheres. Elenya selected one and watched its descent. It shrank out of visibility, though she saw the splatter of impact.

The child's mother slapped him for wasting water.

Shigmur and Elenya ambled on, toward the courtyard of the south keep. If the north fortress were not formidable enough, the smaller structure dissolved any fantasies of direct assault. The keep could only be reached by the bridge. It stood on a solitary promontory, cliffs on every side. An iron gate lay ready to drop and seal off the entrance. Even if the outer fortress were conquered, the keep would stand. Even if the occupants were trapped within, they could still drop missiles on the trade road. The barracks contained a huge stock of foodstuffs.

Then, too, there was the well.

Elenya spotted it as she and Shigmur crossed the threshold. Here was the reason why Joren had held the peak, and why the traders could hold it now. The natural spring had been capped, and a small wellhouse built atop it. It stood in the center of the keep. A pair of guards relaxed under the gazebo roof, watching the day's traffic, making idle conversation with those who came to draw the water – usually slave women of the fortress, occasionally another of the keep's soldiers. The two T'lil warriors knew without testing it that the guards would not permit a man they did not know to come close to the well. It was not that the men of Xurosh particularly feared that the water would be violated; they simply knew that this was one of their weak spots and took measures to insure their security. They had stores of wine and other liquids, including barrels of water, to fall back on. Lonal and Elenya were depending on the fact that, in the daytime desert heat, nothing was as popular as cold, pure drafts freshly drawn from the well.

This afternoon was no different. Women were drawing urnsful and carrying them on their shoulders back to the northern fortress, which had no source of fresh water. All had to come from this one spring.

Elenya and Shigmur completed their tour. At their query, they were told that the gate was lowered at midnight. She smiled to herself. The plan was by no means faultless, but it had a decent chance. She made sure to smile coquettishly to the well guards as she followed her "master" across the yard.

The caravan took advantage of safe haven, the first in many leagues, and decided to remain at Xurosh for three nights. Two hours after sunset on the last evening, two figures crossed to the south keep, walking slowly down the center of the causeway. Both appeared to be women, one slender and half-nude, the other entirely clothed and obviously heavy with child.

Lonal waddled expertly, as he had practiced endlessly in their room. Elenya matched his pace, walking gingerly herself. He noticed.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"I'm sore," she replied.

He chuckled. "Well, you should be."

In only two nights – and days, for that matter – Elenya had established a reputation among the garrison. Shigmur had made it apparent as early as possible that his slave was not simply a servant. The price for her went up several times, but the garrison didn't seem to mind. Most were posted to Xurosh for two-year indentures, and their opportunity to spend their wages was restricted. In any event, they received no complaints.

"Make it obvious," Lonal added. "It will amuse the guards."

"It amusesyou, you blasphemer," she accused.

They fell silent as they neared a small party of people walking the other way. The banter couldn't take the edge off their nervousness. The hope of the Zyraii nation revolved on the success of their actions within the next few minutes. All the rest had been preliminaries. They had to concentrate, he on his awkward gait, she on her tart's swagger. They were already in the shadow of the keep's broad portal.

Elenya realized she was squeezing the handle of the bucket in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were white. She relaxed her fist, swinging the container indolently at her side.

The eyes of the sentries by the well, not to mention others patrolling the tops of the battlements, were drawn to her body like flies to dung. She smiled broadly. Soon they had reached their destination.

"Quite a walk for the lady," one of the guards said cordially. Elenya recognized him. She had entertained neither him nor his companion, but she had seen them in the company of one of her earliest customers, laughing in a wineshop and glancing in her direction. They knew who she was – and did not suspect she was a threat to them.

For an instant she forgot every word of Azuraji she knew. When she did reply, she barely kept the tremor out of her voice. "My mistress is a plains woman. They can give birth and be riding a oeikani an hour later."

As she spoke, Lonal reached the rim of the well, which stood about three feet higher than the paving stones, and peered down, as if trying to discern the water in spite of the darkness, aloof from the conversation. The guards ignored him. They knew that Shol women did not speak directly to men outside their family. They much preferred to watch Elenya. Perhaps they took note of how the pregnant woman had settled her distended belly on the well's rim, but only assumed she was seeking relief from the constant weight.

Elenya noisily dropped the catch bucket into the well. The rope unwound, the spindle twirling in its metal sockets with a clatter. A splash reverberated from below. As she operated the crank, she kept up a ceaseless banter.

"My mistress thought the fresh well water would do her good," she said. "You would not believe what we have had to drink on the journey. There isn't a drop of decent water between Surudain and Xurosh, and coffees and wines are hard on a woman with child. Are either of you fathers?"

They hesitated. Both said no. She could tell at least one of them was lying. She caught them staring downward and fingered her necklace. The jewel rested precisely halfway between her nipples. "Do you see what my master gave me? He said his beauty should have something beautiful to show off. Do you like it?"

She held up the green stone, exerting a silent command to make it sparkle. The guards watched it – or the area near where it swayed – with unabashed scrutiny. They hardly paid attention to the words she uttered, not particularly caring how badly she mangled their language or how trivial her subject matter seemed to be.

Nor did they notice the faint hiss of powder dropping into the well from an open seam in the front of the pregnant woman's clothing.

In due course, the bucket reached the top of the well. Elenya transferred the water into her own container, which she set on her shoulder, a statuesque pose. Her mistress stepped away from the rim. As they walked off, the guards were treated to a broad smile, and hungrily watched as the night and distance obscured her figure. If there was any sign that the veiled wife's burden was less heavy, the men failed to notice.

They heard a merry laugh from the center of the bridge.

"A cheerful strumpet, isn't she?" said one of them.