The keys to paradise, p.26
The Keys to Paradise, page 26
Petia moved cautiously down the bare-walled passage until she came to an open archway. She peered around the corner into the room, keeping her head low. Several men stood watching, intent on the scene before them.
There were no women in the room. Except for a few guards, all the men were involved in the dance. Some had reached a trance stage and fallen to the floor. It was evidently the duty of the non-participants to drag the entranced ones out of the way of the dancers. The men still on their feet went through the peculiar dance steps with their eyes closed. They held their arms out to the side, almost as if they were wings, and dipped and glided for a few beats of the drum, a parody of some great bird of prey. Then, in a great flurry, they whirled five or six times. The motion was repeated again and again.
Petia did not worry about the trance dancers. Only the watchers worried her. She backed away from the arch and crept down the passage. At each doorway she peered in cautiously but found only empty rooms. Petia eventually came to a set of stairs leading downward.
She descended into the main body of the temple. An altar stood near one end of the room, and intricately woven prayer mats covered the floor. No guards, no supplicants, no one.
She saw only two doorways. One led from the front of the temple and was the main entrance from the street. The other she stood in.
Petia started to leave, then stopped, a strangeness to the room making her uneasy. Petia wrinkled her nose. It was not quite a musty smell, not the odour of a building dried and desiccated by the sun-beaten desert. A humid, almost cool feeling to this room reached out and touched her face, her hands. Repressing a shiver, she walked quietly toward the altar.
A simple desert cloth adorned it. Behind the altar table a tapestry bright with geometric patterns of talismanic significance stretched across one wall. Petia studied the eye-confusing pattern and decided that it certainly did not depict a scene on this world. She felt the heavy desert cloth and, on impulse, flicked back one edge.
Behind it a narrow passage meandered off to end in a hole in the floor. Narrow treads led down into a subterranean passage. Thanking the gods for feline vision, she descended. Moist, earthen walls immediately answered the question of the strangely humid smell.
Petia closed her eyes and listened intently. She heard disturbed breathing and ventured a quiet call. ‘Giles?’
A groan sounded in response. She followed the faint cries of pain and found a rough door, barred on the outside. She called again, but no answer came, not even a moan.
She lifted the bar, set it carefully along the wall and opened the cell door.
Giles Grimsmate lay in a crumpled heap in one corner of the room. She went to him, her heart in her throat. He had been beaten until almost unrecognisable. His breath rattled in his throat.
Petia put her hands on his forehead. ‘Giles, can you move?’
Even with her superior night vision, she could barely see in the dark cell. She tried to rouse Giles but could get nothing more from him than the intake of a short breath, which set him coughing. She could not even tell if he was conscious.
‘Giles, wake up.’ No response.
Petia grimaced. She needed help, and Keja was outside. She would have to go all the way up to the roof to signal him, and the gods only knew how they would get Giles out.
Not liking the idea of traversing the Harifim temple but seeing no way around it, Petia made her way quickly and silently to the roof. In a few minutes, she had signalled Keja and, when he joined her, explained the situation.
‘We only waste time,’ he told her. ‘The sooner we get back to the basement and rescue Giles, the sooner we can be gone from this accursed temple.’ They retraced Petia’s earlier route past the guards and dancers, into the nave and the passage and down to the cell.
Keja gathering the older man, Keja lifted him to his shoulders. ‘If we get him out of here without arousing those acolytes, it will be a miracle,’ he said. ‘Giles is heavier than I expected. Lead on.’
Keja staggered under Giles’ weight, but they gained the temple’s main floor without incident. Keja leaned against the wall to catch his breath without putting Giles down.
‘The next part is going to be tricky,’ Petia whispered. ‘Try not to breathe too loudly. There are four guards watching the dancing. If we get past them, we have a chance of getting out of here. If we can’t…’ She left the sentence unfinished.
The narrow, steep steps forced Keja to struggle for balance. The inert Giles was a dead weight, arms dangling and sometimes swinging from the motion. Keja reached the top of the stairs and concentrated on breathing quietly, almost an impossibility.
Petia motioned for Keja not to rest – too much danger. She pointed to the room where fewer feet could be heard dancing. More of the men had succumbed to the drugs and spin dancing.
Keja heaved a deep breath and moved to the foot of the ladder leading to the roof. He raised his right foot and placed it on the first rung. Against his shoulder he felt Giles take a deep breath. When the unconscious man let out the air, a deep moan echoed down the passageway.
Keja looked apprehensively at Petia, who motioned him on up the ladder. She heard a short exclamation in the desert language, followed all too quickly by the sound of feet rushing toward them. Four acolytes rounded the corner of the archway.
Petia drew her sword and shouted over her shoulder at Keja. ‘Hurry. I’ll hold them off.’
She crouched, sword at the defensive. The men advanced, although they were unarmed. They obviously intended to bowl her over with their sheer numbers, even though she might kill or injure a couple.
They were still several feet away from her when a yell echoed from the temple room below. ‘Hadrani! Arifa! Hadrani!’
Several voices came from below. Petia couldn’t understand the language, but the emotion was clearly one of panic. ‘Hadrani!’ the voices repeated. The men confronting Petia exchanged frowns. One shook his head and took another step toward her. A second man stopped, sniffing the air. ‘Hadrani,’ he growled, and sniffed again. The others sniffed, then rushed at Petia. To her amazement, they went right past her and disappeared down the stairway to the main temple room.
‘Up the ladder quickly,’ Keja shouted. ‘Pull it up behind you.’
They staggered to the edge of the temple roof. ‘You first,’ Keja said. ‘Then I’ll lower Giles.’
In only moments, Keja reached the ground and shouldered Giles again. As they melted into the shadows playing along the street opposite the temple, Anji joined them. ‘Did I do good?’ he asked.
Petia grabbed the boy’s arm. ‘What are you doing here? I told you to stay in the room.’
The boy’s eyes sparkled as the small band entered the moon-soaked square. ‘Hadrani. Hadrani,’ he said in a deep voice not his own. ‘That is ‘flee!’ in the language of the desert.’
‘You? Downstairs in the temple?’
Anji nodded. ‘I set a small fire with paper. Lots of smoke. Lots of voices, too. I did three or four men from different corners. I followed you. It is not good to go against the Harifim without someone at your back.’
Petia tried to be angry with the boy and failed. ‘We’ll talk about this later. Keja, hurry. They’ll be after us for certain now. We’d better tend Giles, then gather our belongings and leave the inn.’
‘Where will we hide at this time of night? We don’t know the city.’
‘Anji does. We’ll find a place.’
They entered the inn through the kitchen and hurried up the back stairs to their room. They stripped Giles and Petia tended the bloody abrasions on his body with a clean cloth dipped in wine. He gained consciousness briefly, but his eyes never focused and he closed them again.
‘Anji, think of somewhere we can hide.’ Petia wiped the wine-soaked cloth across a cut in Giles’ forehead.
‘Where do you go next?’ the boy asked. ‘You are obviously travellers from another country.’
‘We were going into the desert. We’ve bought supplies and several lirjan’
‘Where are the lirjan?’ Anji asked.
When he heard Petia’s answer, he said, ‘So. Hide in the caravanserai among the lirjan. They might not find us there. The Harifim come from the desert, where they prey on caravans. They are not at all welcome among other travellers.’
Petia found that Giles had no broken bones, but he sucked in his breath noisily when she touched his ribs. She bound them tightly, hoping that none was cracked. A sip of wine forced into his mouth seemed to revive him a bit. He started to talk, but Petia shushed him.
‘We’ve got to leave right now, Giles. Can you walk?’
‘Dunno,’ he mumbled. With Keja on one side and Petia on the other, he managed to get to his feet. They walked him across the room and back.
‘He’ll make it if he can lean on both of us and we go slowly,’ Keja said. ‘What about our belongings?’
‘I carry them,’ Anji spoke up. He gathered the packs together and slung them over his skinny shoulder.
Keja raised his eyebrows at the boy’s strength but shook his head ever so slightly at Petia, warning her to let Anji have his own way. The boy had a great deal of pride and had helped them immensely tonight.
They left the inn quietly and let Anji lead them. Through deserted back streets they reached the caravanserai. The tent guard grumbled at the lateness, but Keja slipped him a coin to quiet him.
They found a place in the middle of the gathering and lowered Giles to the ground, placing a pack beneath his head. His eyes opened briefly. ‘Thank you, friends,’ he whispered. ‘The map.’ He lifted his hand and pointed at the back of his trousers.
‘But it was taken,’ Keja said, frowning. When Giles motioned again, Keja rolled him over and groped inside. When his hand came out, the folded map was between his fingers. Keja frowned even more when he saw the map. ‘Not the same one,’ he said.
‘Giles found a better one,’ Petia said with confidence.
Keja tucked the map out of sight in his own tunic, then asked, ‘Now, what do we do with the boy?’
Anji knelt in front of Petia, his eyes imploring her. She looked from Anji to Keja and back again. ‘If we don’t take him with us, he’s dead. The Harifim will see to it.’
‘He’ll only be in the way if he comes with us. Giles will be furious.’
‘He wasn’t in our way earlier this evening, Keja. Either he goes with us, or I don’t go. And don’t go putting words in Giles’ mouth.’ She glared at Keja.
Keja muttered for a moment, then subsided, shaking his head. ‘All right, but he’s your responsibility. And you can explain it to Giles.’
‘Yes, he is and I will.’ Petia gestured to a space on the ground. ‘We’ll sleep there.’ She lay down and threw her cloak over the boy and herself. They listened briefly to the night noises of the lirjan before they slept. Petia’s sleep was troubled by visions of drug-crazed Harifim pouncing on her from the darkness.
Five
Caravaners for Kuilla, rise up, rise up! Kuilla only. Line up your lirjan against the south wall.’ The cry rang through the caravanserai. Lirjan grunted as drivers prodded them to their feet.
Petia blinked open her eyes and for a panicked instant thought she’d gone blind. The blackness of the sky above was relieved by only one or two twinkling stars. She stretched and got circulation flowing through tired veins, then roused Anji and kicked Keja to get him awake. ‘Up, sleepy head, the day’s half gone,’ she said with feigned exuberance.
She knelt by Giles. ‘How are you feeling? The caravan for Kuilla is preparing to leave.’
‘Kuilla? Help me up, will you?’
Petia assisted him. Giles winced at the pain in his ribs. ‘You and Keja go take care of getting us a spot in the caravan line.’
Giles struggled to get their packs buckled up while the others took care of their duties. He rubbed his side and decided the injury wasn’t too bad. He cursed himself for being so stupid and thinking he could learn of the key by allowing himself to be kidnapped by the Harifim. If it hadn’t been for his friends, he would have died in the Harifim prison. And to make matters even worse, he had gained no new knowledge for the pains.
He swung the pack up and settled it into a comfortable spot on his back when a boy ran up to him. ‘Master Giles, Petia says that the lirjan are in line. We can pack them there.’
‘Thank you, boy. This for your trouble.’ He spun a coin into the air.
The boy caught it deftly and tossed it back. ‘I cannot take it, Master Giles. Come, this way. I show you.’ He pulled at Giles’ sleeve.
‘Where did you get this little charmer to help you?’ Giles asked as he joined the others by their animals.
‘I bought him yesterday at the slave market. He is mine,’ Petia replied.
‘What?’ Giles exploded.
‘I offered him his freedom, but he wants to stay with me. I can’t turn him down. He goes with us.’
‘We can’t take a child with us,’ Giles said. ‘We don’t have any idea what’s ahead – except for more trouble. Who’s going to be responsible for him? We don’t have enough supplies. He’ll be in the way. He could get sick. He doesn’t have a lirjan to ride.’ Giles paused for breath and finally added, ‘And you shouldn’t have bought him. Never give so much as a fart to those who deal in human flesh and misery.’
Petia let Giles run through the litany of reasons the boy shouldn’t accompany them. When he ran out of breath, she said quietly, ‘Anji goes with me. Or I don’t go.’
‘No, Petia. We cannot afford someone who will be in the way.’
‘He wasn’t in the way last night when Keja and I pulled you out of the Harifim temple. If it hadn’t been for him, all three of us would be in that cell right now, instead of getting ready to leave Kasha.’ Petia turned and looked back toward the city. ‘He stays with me,’ she said again, returning her unblinking gaze to Giles.
‘Hummph! On your head, then!’ Giles grumbled before he busied himself with unnecessary repacking.
The half-dark of false dawn still clung tenaciously to the desert when the last lirjan cleared the city gates. For a time the caravan followed a well-beaten track that led past a series of wells outside Kasha’s walls. Gradually the track dwindled to a single rut stretching into the desert.
‘I had hoped that we would group up and be shielded from prying eyes,’ Giles said. ‘The Harifim know what we are seeking. They’ll be after us, I fear. Keep a careful watch.’
They soon fell into the rolling, awkward gait of the lirjan, although Giles winced with pain at every misstep the animal made. Seeing that the caravan made good time and that the Harifim would be unable to approach without being seen first, Giles reached for the map.
‘Gone!’ he cried. ‘They got the map!’
Keja put his heels to his animal’s flanks and trotted up beside Giles. ‘Here. Took it to make sure it wasn’t lost. Didn’t want you bleeding on it.’
Giles heaved a sigh of relief. He’d been through too much to get this map to have it lost due to his own miscalculations. He didn’t bother with the ancient caravan routes; he examined the map’s illuminated borders. Around the perimeter cavorted mythical beasts of fantastic proportion and viciousness.
Giles squinted into the morning sun at the long string of lirjan stretching out into the desert. He turned on his mount to look back at a line nearly as long before scanning the desert on both sides for any hint that the Harifim pursued them. He heaved a sigh of relief when he found no trace of the fanatical cultists. Giles decided he might be overestimating the Harifim’s devotion to protecting their key to the Gate of Paradise.
He retired his attention to the beasts inked onto the map, he wondered how a scribe would dream up such creatures. In the upper right-hand corner an upright creature glowered, standing on two ponderous legs and covered with tiny scales. The slim torso widened to a mighty chest and shoulders. Eyes looked out from beneath a bony, protruding brow, giving the effect of gloom and brooding.
Beneath it writhed a four-legged reptilian beast, long and sinuous, its hind legs stretched out behind it catlike. Its beaked mouth opened as if it were part bird of prey.
At the bottom the artist had drawn in another physical anomaly. The body of this third animal was covered with a shell, but unlike any turtle Giles had ever seen. The legs were longer, slender, the body stout, the head similar to that of a dog, with large round ears pricked up as if listening to the sussuration of desert wind against heated sand.
Giles folded the map and tucked it away. He would examine other beasts later. Now all he wanted to do was try to doze off as his lirjan perversely sought the rockiest part of the track.
The day wore on – and the desert stretched forever. Kasha disappeared behind the caravan, taking the ocean with it. For miles around, Giles saw only hard, flat soil. He supposed that the sand would come later. Surely, if this was a desert, then there must be sand.
He shaded his eyes with one hand to see into the heat-shimmered distance. Something broke the monotonous flatness through which the caravan passed. Small hills, eroded cliffs, perhaps. But the heat radiating off the land erased any detail. Giles could neither see clearly nor determine distances. It might be one league or ten to the cliffs.
Giles rocked back and forth on his lirjan, watching the bobbing heads of Keja and Petia ahead of him, falling into an almost hypnotic trance. The boy, Anji, was seated in front of Petia out of Giles’ line of sight. He wondered idly if their backs ached as badly as his did. He was grateful when the caravan leader called a halt at midday.
Anji nimbly dropped to the hard ground to aid Petia, then hurried back to Keja’s mount and helped the small thief. Giles was damned if a mere child was going to help him. After all, he was a veteran of twenty years in the Trans war and had seen and done everything – twice. He threw his foot over the lirjan’s withers and slid off. Pain shot through his legs. First the ankles, then the knee, and finally it reached his hips. He staggered back against the animal and heard it grumble. Turning, he grabbed a pack rope, hanging on while feeling came slowly back into his legs. Foolish, Giles, he thought. Next time he’d let the boy help.
