For a few moments during the wing-flapping chaos Mena thought the plan was working, but with each wingbeat the creature seemed to gain strength and resolve. It strained against the ropes, yanking them through the branches. It would soon clear the trees. She shouted for more bolts to be shot, but the crossbowmen were struggling to reload while keeping their eyes upon the moving beast. She would have taken a shot herself if she had a bow. Something else caught her eye. The creature's tail hung near the ground. It snapped and curled and stretched beneath the flying form, like a living rope looking for a hand to grab it. So that's what Mena did.
She walked forward and grasped it in a clenched fist. She did not exactly plan to. It was so near, so easy to do. She did not think, but some part of her imagined she might hold the creature down. The narrow tip of the tail curled around her wrist, almost playfully, as if it had a mind of its own and would tickle her. She noticed this even amid the motion, even though it lasted only a few seconds.
That's all the time she had before she was yanked into the air. She knew then-as the earth fell away beneath her churning legs-that neither the stones nor her body weight was nearly enough to keep the creature earthbound. It soared upward, taking her with it.
C HAPTER
The messenger sent by Sangae Umae had surprised Kelis every day since they began their overland journey together. Naamen had dashed out of the camp in Halaly at a pace that Kelis was sure he would not be able to hold for long. But he had. Kelis had thought himself still in his prime; but midway through his first day he had cause to doubt it. The older man kept abreast of the younger only by digging deep into his running memory finding the rhythm, and searching for the quiet meditative space that he had tapped to help him through his longest runs, like the one he took at Aliver's side in search of the Santoth.
While Aliver had been largely a silent companion, Naamen was inclined to chatter. He made observations on the landscape, talked of random memories, asked questions, and then seemed content to answer them himself. It had frustrated Kelis at first; he suspected that the adolescent was purposefully trying to distract him and to demonstrate that the work did not even wind him. But by the third or fourth day Naamen's voice had become a feature of the journey, inseparable from the pounding of their feet and swing of their arms and the slow unfurling of the land through which they kicked their dusty progress.
Outside the Halaly lake region, the plains baked beneath a dry sun that oppressed the land, as if the heat were a heavy blanket pressing down on the world. Umae, which they passed near, had always been arid, but such heat was unusual this early in the season. Across the flat stretch of land to Denben they found water only in a few wells, the rivers like dry scars cut in the earth by some meandering knife. Along the busy route between Denben and Bocoum it was easier to forget the plains, especially as the roads often took them within sight of the Inner Sea. Still, Kelis knew that things were not right in his homeland. The foulthings were one sign of it but not the only one.
Naamen was just as adept among the urban bustle of Bocoum as he was running across open expanses. Kelis followed the young man as he slipped through the crowd with the fluidity of an eel through a coral reef. The city, sprawling along the coastline for buttressed miles, was technically the seat of government control of the province of Talay, although with the region's tribal variation any central control was loose. More fundamentally, it was the agricultural and commercial hub of Talay. It thronged with merchants and traders and craftsmen; with foodstuffs, warehouses, and luxurious estates. None of these things interested Kelis. He did not really feel at home hemmed in by walls and buildings and crowds, and considered the flaunted wealth of the townsfolk to be obscenely extravagant. In the past, he had always breezed through the city, engaged in some errand or another. He did not intend this trip to be any different.
"Here it is," Naamen said, motioning with his stunted arm.
It took Kelis a moment to sort out what he meant. They had come up one of the high streets of the city center, a busy corridor lined with multistoried buildings. Working their way forward, Kelis picked out the carved image of a lion on a crest above the gatehouse entrance at the end of the lane. It was the Ou lion. It was hardly an original totem animal, but it was distinctive in that the figure stood upright on a body that looked more human than feline. The head, however, was massively maned, the cat's mouth opened in an everlasting roar. It could have been a secondary entrance to an Acacian palace, such was the grandeur of the carved granite archway. Two guards stood at attention at either side, long pikes set on the ground before them and stretching to spear points well above their heads.
"You would think they were royalty," Kelis murmured.
Naamen turned and set his mirthful eyes on him. "Oh, yes, and, believe me, the Ous do think themselves royalty. You need not bow before them, though. Not yet, at least."
The guards held them outside the gate for several minutes, until a secretary met them. He curtly dismissed Naamen, then led Kelis through the elaborate interior gardens, around pools of fish and under palms, between rows of flowering bushes. Inside the main building, the extravagance continued. For Kelis-who had spent most of the last several years in camps, sleeping on mats with bare ground beneath him-the tapestry-hung walls, the incense-heavy air, the rich carpet underfoot, and the dark crimson and gold of so much of the furniture closed in on him like some elaborate trap. He had to breathe deeply to disguise his racing heartbeat and his desire to run away.
The secretary left him in a room filled with couches and ornate chairs, directing him to sit and relax. Kelis eyed a couch, draped with zebra skins. He did not sit. Instead, he moved out onto the balcony and sucked in the salt-tinged air. The Inner Sea stretched out to the horizon, the green waters dotted with sailing vessels of all sizes and shapes. In the distance great trading barges sat on the water, looking like oddly geometric islands. Leaning on the railing, Kelis took in the sweep of the harbor below, the coastline crowded with rank upon rank of white-roofed buildings. The structures were built so tightly together they looked like a throng jostling to tilt themselves into the mirror that was the sea.
How many people lived in this city? Kelis had no idea. Likely, the number would mean little to him anyway. How very different it was from a village like Umae, where he could name every adult, and every child could name him. That was the size of community that felt right to him. He wondered again why Sangae had summoned him here.
"The harbor of Bocoum on a summer's day," a man's voice said, startling Kelis. He turned and saw a man of about his age, richly dressed in an ankle-length blue robe, approaching him. "It is magnificent, don't you think?"
"Yes," Kelis said. It was not exactly a lie but close.
"Good." The man smiled. His face was handsome and broad featured in the way of northern Talayans. He was as tall as Kelis, lean as well, although somewhat more bulkily muscled around the chest and shoulders. He was not a runner. He was fit in a different way and carried himself with confident grace. Seeming to remember formality all at once, he bowed his clean-shaven head. He said, "New friend, the sun shines on you, but the water is sweet."
"The water is cool, new friend, and clear to look upon," Kelis answered. The words came to his lips automatically.