Part 10 (2/2)

Powerful though the Covin was, it had failed to subdue the sorceress in its first surprise attack; Ainopple had put up a ferocious resistance and died unvanquished. Even Thrugg had been unable to make out the details, but most likely she had succ.u.mbed to simple old age. She had needed power just to keep herself alive, and in the distraction of the battle her resources had run out. The Covin might have suffered some wounds of its own; at first it had made no search for other sorcerers in the district, or had done so perfunctorily. The hunt had begun in earnest only after a lapse of several days, perhaps when someone used hindsight, or just recognized the significance of trolls escaping. Had Rap and his companions still been in the narrow pa.s.ses, they could have been located easily, but by then they were already on the western slopes, needles in the world's greatest haystack.

Which did not mean they might not be found yet. Day and night, occult vision searched the trees. In the crazy metaphorical plane of the ambience, Rap could see those eyes, hear those ears. He sensed pillars of light or low crooning of voices, and sometimes he thought they were within yards of him. As far as sorcery went, other people were a much more effective cover than trees. A city would be much safer than a jungle.

Which meant he had to do this the hard way. The most insignificant use of magic now might be detected. He had not dared even unroll the magic scrolls in a week.

He thought briefly of Acopulo sitting at ease on a s.h.i.+p. He wondered if his own favorite armchair before the fire in Krasnegar now held the imperor, sprawling back in comfort, chatting to Inos, while Signifer Ylo smothered himself in rustic jotunn maidens belowstairs. He wondered what Warlock Raspnex was up to.

And what he himself was up to. Day and night, something haunted the back of Rap's mind, some brilliant idea that had come to him, some time, some place, and now evaded all efforts of memory to snare it. Something important. Men had gone mad over less . . .

Shrubbery crackled and swished overhead. He looked up and caught a cataract full in the face. He blinked and shouted warnings as a huge bare foot appeared beside his left hand. The undergrowth roiled briefly; the owner of the foot came slithering down to his level in a shower of water and leaves. He caught glimpses of a naked, parchmentcolored body, and then Norp's face was level with his. She grinned, displaying enormous teeth and a mouth full of half-chewed leaves.

Male trolls were bad enough. The females were even uglier, possibly because they lacked beards. Thrugg's face was acceptable as an animal muzzle, but a hairless troll was a grotesque parody of what a human being should look like. Norp was only a child, younger than Kadie, and yet she outweighed Rap himself. She was hideous, and a nice kid.

She grunted a question through a mouthful of vegetation. A troll's idea of a snack was to rip off a branch and eat it wholea”twigs, bark, and all. He deciphered: ”Resting?”

”Admiring the scenery.” It was difficult to think under the rain's constant hammering.

Another series of leafy mumbles translated to: ”This is a bad part, and it gets worse.”

How did she know that? Neither Norp nor Urg had any occult powers; neither had ever come this way before, and yet they seemed to understand the landscape by instinct. Thrugg had gone on ahead. Urg was helping Darad bring up the rear. All three trolls had long since discarded their slave clothes. The sun never shone in this rain-soaked land, and their doughy hides were impervious to thorns and insects. Rap thought he had lost about a quarter of his own skin and was still losing it faster than he could grow it back.

”Just unhook that strap for me, then, would you?” He braced himself to try again. Burying his face in the soggy moss, he stretched out as far as he could to his right. He found a tangle of roots and grasped it with frozen fingers. He tugged, and this time it seemed firm enough. He persuaded his left hand to let go. The cliff was not quite vertical, after all. Had it not been so thickly overgrown, he would have called it a waterfall. Then he brought his left foot closer. He had very little skin left on his left foot. He found a purchase, moved his right leg, and everything seemed to let go at the same instant. He yelled in terror as he began to slide.

Norp grabbed for him, and caught the satchel strap. For a moment she took his whole weight as he dangled over the void. Then the strap broke.

Her reflexes were astonis.h.i.+ng. A great paw s.n.a.t.c.hed his shoulder in midair and held him bodily until he found better handholds. His heart thundered.

”Thanks!” he gasped. ”Good work!”

”You want . . . me carry you?”

”Oh, I think I'll manage. But that was a nice rescue. I thought I'd gone that time!”

She beamed with childish pleasure.

Rap felt rather proud himself, for he had refrained from using sorcery in that little episode. Nevertheless, it had lost him about half his pants, and the satchel. It was long gone downstream now, scrolls and gold and all. A couple of weeks of this, Thrugg said, would bring them to his mother's place. Fortunately, Rap had always believed in traveling light, but he wished now he had headed for Zark and sent old Acopulo to handle the troll end of the business.

4.

Star of the Morning had made an easy trip from Malfin to Cooplia”easy for late winter, that was. She was a small cargo s.h.i.+p with little room for pa.s.sengers, but jotunn-built and more seaworthy than most; so her master had a.s.sured Acopulo. A lucky vessel, also, he had insisted. Two days out of Coopli, she had run out of good fortune.

At first Acopulo was too ill to mind. He considered it unfair that he always needed three or four days to gain his sea legs, only to lose them again after a few hours in port, but that was how the G.o.ds had arranged the matter. He suspected that They disapproved of imps afloat on principle. He also suspected that he was about to die, but then he always thought that on a s.h.i.+p. The more violent motion added by the storm could do nothing to make him more miserable.

As his faculties began to return, however, he realized that he had never seen a cabin tilt to and fro at quite such remarkable angles. Nor had he ever heard a s.h.i.+p making quite such loud groaning noises. The occasional shuddering motion was new to him, too.

Eventually he dragged himself out of his stupor and vowed to go up on deck and see. Being a cautious man, he sat on the floor to dress, as standing erect was obviously out of the question. Had he tried to dress in his bunk he would certainly have fallen out. Then he set off on hands and knees.

At the top of the steps he stood up and tried the door. It was totally immovable. He had a sudden panicky thought that he might be locked in. The s.h.i.+p heeled abruptly, the door flew open, and he went flying out into madness. Wind and water together bowled him over, sent him hurtling across the deck in a heap, and slammed him into the side. For a moment he was convinced he had been washed overboard, for he was completely submerged. Then the water drained away, the s.h.i.+p tipped at another angle, and he began to slide. Another wave engulfed him, rolled him. Something grabbed his collar, transferred its grip to his arm, hauled him upright, and wrapped rope around him with a deft motion.

s.h.i.+vering, choking, and blinking, he registered that he was bound to a mast, together with a large wet jotunn.

”Getting a little fresh air, Father?”

Acopulo made incoherent noises, remembered that he was supposedly a priest these days, and shouted, ”Thank you, my son.”

”Need a line if you want to stay up here, Father,” the man boomed cheerfully.

A huge green wave came frothing over the side and buried the men to their waistsa”more like chesta”deep in Acopulo's case. It swept his feet away, and the big sailor steadied him. Then it departed.

G.o.d of Mercy!

There was nothing to see but grayness. After a moment he decided that fog and twilight were merely solid rain. It was hard to tell where the sea ended and the air began, apart from a few frothy wave-tops like roofs all around. Star of Morning tilted again and seemed to surge straight up. ”Where are we?” he screamed.

”See those rocks yonder?” The jotunn pointed a long arm. ”No. I can't see a thing.”

”Landlubber eyes!”

The s.h.i.+p plunged downward. Another wave came roaring across the deck, interrupting the conversation.

”Did you see the lights, then?” the jotunn yelled in Acopulo's ear. He was young and apparently enjoying himself.

”No.”

”Pity. Real pretty sight, dragons.” Acopoulo screamed, ”Dragons?”

”We're about two cablelengths off Dragon Reach. Here, we're going up again. Now look.”

Rain and spume battered Acopulo's eyes, and he saw nothing. ”We're in danger?”

”Well, they don't fly over water, usually. Course we're getting awful close. They can sense the iron in the s.h.i.+p. Thazz what brought *em. *Spect that's why they're blowing so much fire.”

How far was a cablelength? Not very far, Acopulo thought. And dragons, while they ravened after any metal, were especially drawn to gold. What had brought them, he suspected, was the heavy moneybelt around his own waist.

”What's going to happen?” he shouted in the next momentary lull.

”I dunno,” the youngster said. He shrugged, and the resulting tightening of the binding almost cut Acopulo in half. ”She's dragging her anchors, so we'll likely hit the rocks soon. She'll break up quick in this sea. If not, then we'll go aground when the tide ebbs, and the dragons'll get us. ”

Acopulo looked up in horror at the cheerful grin. ”Aren't you frightened?”

”No.” The sailor pondered for a moment and then added, ”If I warn't just a dumb jotunn I might be, I s'pose.” This sudden insight seemed to wont' him more than the dragons themselves.

”I think I want to go back to my cabin.”

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