“So, Tarran,” a deep voice growled in Corvan’s ear, “you’ve not only proven yourself to be a bigger fool than your father, but this time he won’t save you from the Chief Watcher.”
The grip on Corvan’s shoulders relaxed, causing his body to slip, and his heart pounded.
“I think it would be best for everyone if you fell to your death,” the deep voice declared.
“Kharag,” a calm voice interjected, “our orders were to relieve Tarran and Harmon, not kill them.”
“Shut up, Rayu,” the man holding Corvan barked, “or you will be next. It would be a great relief to not see any of the green priest’s cloaks around our barracks.”
Corvan was hurled back toward the door. He collapsed in a heap, peering out from under the folds of his hood. His captors had expected to meet Tarran at the door and his grandfather’s special cloak was making them think Corvan him. He tugged his hood lower over his eyes.
Men in black cloaks moved about, while an older man in a green cloak smiled in his direction. That had to be one of the priests from the temple Tsarek had mentioned. If he could talk to Rayu, maybe the man could help him escape.
A boot struck his leg. “Get to your feet,” Kharag ordered.
Using the staff, Corvan pushed himself upright, keeping his hood low and his eyes on the ground. As he leaned heavily on the staff, it began to glow, and Kharag’s boots jumped in front of him.
“Why did you light your staff?” Kharag demanded, snatching it from Corvan’s hand. He examined the shaft closely. “And why is there blood on it?”
“Kharag,” another voice called out, “come look at this.”
Corvan watch from under his hood as Kharag moved to where a knot of soldiers stood around Harmon’s body. The older man in a green cloak pushed through to crouch over the corpse. “This wound was not made by his staff,” he said, looking up at Kharag.
Kharag shoved the man, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“We don’t need your help, Rayu. This isn’t a temple affair. Harmon’s body is proof enough of the murder. Tarran is now a prisoner under the jurisdiction of the Chief Watcher.”
The heavy boots stalked back to Corvan, and the sharp point of the staff jabbed repeatedly into his shoulder with each clipped word. “Tarran, you are under arrest for the murder of Harmon. You will now be taken before the Chief Watcher for judgment.” Someone shoved Corvan and was directing him onto the cliffside path leading down to the city.
Hemmed in by soldiers on the narrow track, Corvan noticed something odd about his guards. At first, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but as they entered the first set of switchbacks leading to the bridge below, it finally struck him. Among these grown men, he was of average height. Either the palace guards were chosen for their short stature, or all the people of this place Tsarek called the Cor weren’t very tall.
The light from the lumiens overhead was growing dimmer. With his hood low over his eyes, Corvan felt safe from discovery, at least for now, but once he was taken to the Chief Watcher, he would be exposed as an impostor. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead at the thought of facing the black lizard.
Seeking some reassurance, he reached under his tunic and rested his hand on the head of the hammer, but it was cold to the touch. Something had changed when Tarran died. The man’s frightened face filled his thoughts. He tried to push the image away, but the voice in his head kept pleading, “Help me, Cor-Van.”
Silently, he responded, I was too afraid and I’m not strong enough. I don’t even know how to use the hammer.
Tarran’s voice continued to implore him. “Please, Cor-Van, help me.”
He tried forcing himself to think of something else, but the voice would not quit. It grew louder, more desperate.
“Stop!”
All the men around him jostled to a halt and turned to face him. Kharag pushed through their midst and grabbed him by the collar, almost knocking his hood off. “Why should we stop? Are you too tired, Tarran? Did killing Harmon take too much out of you?” Kharag yanked him to the edge of the trail. “If you are so tired, I will help you to the bottom faster.”
Rayu spoke up again in his even tone. “Kharag, remember, the Chief Watcher will not be happy with you if he does not have a chance to question your prisoner. There is no reward for a dead body. I suggest we keep moving and get across the water before it’s fully dark.”
The soldiers behind Rayu muttered their agreement, and Kharag’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. Shoving Corvan toward the guards, he jabbed a thick finger at Rayu. “Keep your thoughts to yourself, old man, or you will be the one taking a quick trip down.”
Kharag stomped off down the trail, and the soldiers formed a tight wall around Corvan as they plodded downward. There was no way out of this new nightmare. Everything was going from bad to worse.
Someone squeezed Corvan’s hand. It was Rayu walking close beside him. He looked directly up into Corvan’s hood and smiled. Corvan nodded and swallowed a lump in his throat. The man knew he was not Tarran but was still willing to help him. At least he had one friend in this place. A soldier behind them coughed, and Rayu let go as the guard pushed past between them.
Weariness settled in, and Corvan drifted into a trancelike state as he stumbled down the winding path.
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The sound of rushing water brought him back to his senses and awakened his thirst. It had been a long time since he last ate or drank but there was no stopping now. The guards pressed in even tighter as they approached the bridge, quickening their pace. Though it was flanked by stone walls, the soldiers crowded as close to the center of the bridge as possible and glanced nervously at the water rushing below. Corvan searched for the source of their fear. Was one of the long-armed monsters lurking below? Or were they simply afraid of falling in?
They quickly reached the other side of the river, where the bank of the water channel rose to join the outer wall of the city.
The company passed through an open gate, spread out, and marched down the wide street Corvan had seen from above. The buildings on the left were crumbling shells, their doors broken off and roofs caving in. On the right, a higher wall had been hastily constructed from mismatched stone blocks that didn’t fit together well.
The road itself was uneven, and the soldiers stumbled in the near darkness. The few people they met pressed against the high wall on the right side of the street until the soldiers passed and then scurried away. Corvan could not see their faces because everyone wore a hooded cloak—likely the only way to stay warm in the damp air or perhaps to avoid detection from the armed guard.
Kharag led the procession through the city by the light of the staff’s globe. It cast its twisting elongated shadows onto the wall alongside them.
After a short while, the company reached the city center. The round plaza he had seen from above had a pool in the middle, with a statue rising from the water, topped with a man’s head but with four arms jutting out of its body. Something moved in the shadows beyond the statue, and Corvan caught a quick glimpse of a shrouded figure heading into a street beyond, illuminated by the staff’s garish light. The sweet scent of lilacs stirred a powerful longing. He bent lower, peering through the legs of the statue, and the figure turned to look in his direction.
It was Kate! She glanced at the soldiers, then pulled the plaid blanket draped over her shoulders tightly around her neck and disappeared into the darkened street. Corvan stumbled into the soldier in front of him, and they both crashed to the ground.
In a flash, Rayu was at his side, pulling Corvan’s hood back over his head.
Corvan grabbed Rayu’s wrist, pulling him close. “There’s a girl in the street behind the statue,” he whispered urgently. “You have to help her. She’s wearing a blanket with…”
“Are we going to have to drag the two of you up to the palace?” Kharag’s angry voice echoed in the confines of the walled plaza.
Rayu leaned back and pulled Corvan to his feet. “We are all right. Just tripped over the loose cobblestones.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” Kharag warned and turned away.
With Rayu close at his side, the company moved along a circular wall that curved to the outside of the central plaza. They passed under what looked like metal trees, their branches terminating in metal rings. Rayu gave Corvan's hand a firm squeeze before disappearing into the shadows. Corvan wanted desperately to look back and confirm that Rayu was going after Kate, but he dared not stumble again.
In front of them, a pair of sputtering firesticks framed a narrow iron gate. Kharag strode up and shouted a command. The gate creaked open only enough to let the soldiers squeeze through in single file. Beyond the gate, a soldier stood yawning, his hand resting on the windlass that controlled the gate.
Prodding Corvan to keep moving, the soldiers marched along the wide street toward a faceless statue brooding over the decaying city. The street became a wider stone stairway, and its balustrades were crumbling and broken off like twin rows of rotten teeth. At the top of the stairs, they passed beneath a great stone arch set into a thick wall before emerging into a large open space. Ahead of them, successive ranks of stairs, broken by wide landings, climbed toward the feet of the statue. At regular intervals across the landings were more of the fluted metal trees srouting from circular stone platforms.
After two flights of stairs, it was all Corvan could do to force his feet to take the last step onto the next landing. Just when he feared he might collapse and be discovered, Kharag ordered the men to stand down. They all sank wearily onto the steps.
Kharag left them and crossed the open space toward a large double gate set into the courtyard wall. Corvan peeked from under his hood, watching as Kharag knocked on a smaller door beside the large gate. He tried to stay alert to see what might happen, but his head sank to his knees. He dozed for a moment before being jolted awake as the soldier beside him pulled him to his feet.
Kharag swaggered toward them and called out, “The Chief Watcher does not want to be disturbed tonight.” The small door slammed shut behind him, making Kharag jump. His voice lowered as he continued, “I have been ordered to leave the prisoner in one of the cells. The Chief Watcher will decide his fate in the morning.” He gestured for them to follow.
One side of the larger gate opened, and Kharag led them inside, turning right along a high building. A light glowed in a window next to an archway. Two red-cloaked guards, armed with tall pikes, stepped forward. Kharag approached them and held out the red staff while speaking in an authoritative tone.
One of the red-cloaked guards yanked the staff from Kharag’s hand and shoved him aside. The soldiers beside Corvan fell back as the red-cloaked guards swept in, ushering him through the arch and across a small courtyard toward a row of short, round towers nestled tightly against the tall building. A door was opened, and Corvan was shoved inside. The door slid closed behind him, and a key turned in the lock. All sound from outside the round room was abruptly cut off.
Corvan’s eyes adjusted quickly. The cell was about ten paces in diameter, and aside from the faint outline of the locked door, the walls were unmarked by cracks or seams indicating how it had been constructed. A faint light leaked in through a round opening high overhead.
Corvan crossed to a low stone bench jutting out from the wall and sat down. To his right was a shallow depression with a hole in the middle. Corvan wrinkled his nose against the foul smell. Clearly, this was his toilet. Above the depression, a short, round knob protruded from the wall. When he touched the tip, clear water gushed from the underside, trickling into the hole.
After drinking his fill of the cool water, he removed his cloak, pulled off his pack, and kicked it under the bench. At least the darkness had kept them from noticing and searching the pack.
Stretching out on the cold stone bench, he wrapped his grandfather’s cloak tightly around him and tried to think through all that had just happened. It seemed obvious that the mysterious cloak had affected the soldiers' minds, fooling them into thinking he was Tarran. Rayu, however, was not deceived and was still willing to help him. Rayu had gone looking for Kate and if he found her, Rayu would likely take her to the priest’s temple. All Corvan needed to do was escape from the cell and make his way across the wide plaza to join them—but how?
As he gazed up at the circle of light, the solution presented itself with stark simplicity. His krypin rope could crawl up walls. All he needed to do was to walk it up to the top, pull himself through the hole and onto the roof.
Jumping off the bench, he reached for the rope clipped to his belt, but a key rattled in the door and Corvan quickly dropped back onto the bench, turning his back to the door and pretending to be asleep.
The door creaked open, and someone stepped lightly into the room.
“I need to make sure my brother is all right,” a woman’s voice said, tinged with concern. “I assume the laws of Kadir City still allow an untried prisoner to have visitors?”