Part 22 (2/2)

”Look!” Ylia cried suddenly, startled.

Through the gap in the rushes, at a distance of two or three jeks across the flat plain from the river, Bram Forest saw an armed encampment. There were tents with flying standards, tethered stads, pyramids of stacked spears like hayricks, and pacing sentries.

”What can it mean?” Ylia asked. ”Those standards are Abarian.”

”Retoc,” Bram Forest said. He lifted the pole and felt the mud of the river-bottom cling to it before it came clear. He allowed the skiff to drift toward the bank. ”Retoc's planning treachery. We'll have to go back and alert the Golden Apes. Byla.n.u.s and his Apes can destroy Retoc's legions before they even march on Nadia City.”

”But we can't go back, Bram. If Retoc's army is here, ready, then what's happening in Nadia City? Who can say what Retoc is doing?

You'll have to go ahead and stop him--or at least delay him. I'll go back for Byla.n.u.s.”

Bram Forest shook his head. ”I can't let you go alone, Ylia. Not with the Abarian legions so close.”

”But I must, don't you see?”

Bram Forest frowned. There did not seem any other way, but he was reluctant. ”I love you, Ylia. I couldn't let--”

”What happens in Nadia City today is more important than our love, Bram Forest! What would our love mean if Retoc the Abarian ruled all Tarth?”

”Then you take the skiff,” Bram Forest said finally. ”I can make my way to the city along the bank.”

”No. The army is still encamped. They won't do anything for some time yet. See? All their tents are still standing.”

That was true enough. ”Besides,” Ylia went on, ”we don't know what Retoc is planning in the city. You can reach it faster by skiff. I'll go back for Byla.n.u.s on foot.”

The logic of what Ylia said could not be refuted. With sinking heart Bram Forest helped her from the skiff. He kissed her quickly. ”I love you, Ylia,” he said.

”And I love you, Bram Forest.”

”Be careful. Keep hidden in the rushes. Tell Byla.n.u.s to use his judgment in attacking or waiting for Retoc's legions to make the first move.”

Ylia's pretty head nodded. Then she ducked into the rushes and was gone. Bram Forest looked after her until the rustling in the rushes stopped, then he poled the skiff once more out into the center of the river and sped swiftly toward the Gates of Ice.

No one stopped him. No guards were posted. He beached the skiff and sprinted through the gates and through the city and up its biggest hill toward the amphitheater. Then, only a jek's distance away, he heard the crowd at the funeral games. They roared suddenly in a frenzy of excitement and another part of Portox's poem slipped into place.

The crowd watching the games in Nadia City was the raging beast, blood-l.u.s.ting, expectant, animal-savage, whipped into a fever of goggle-eyed enthusiasm and ready to move, _en-ma.s.se_, in whatever direction a strong leader might push them.

A strong leader....

Retoc? Or Bram Forest? Which one?

Pirum the Abarian s.h.i.+fted his weight uncomfortably, leaning down on the haft of his spear. The whole idea of posting pickets along the bank of the river seemed unnecessary to him. They could not actually see the river through the rushes, and they dared not go closer for fear of being spotted by whatever traffic moved on the icy waters.

Then what was the point of them standing here, half-frozen with the cold, waiting for an a.s.sailant who would never come?

And while he was thinking thus, the girl virtually walked into Pirum's arms. At first he heard a faint rustling in the rushes and, before he could investigate, the tallest of the dry plants had parted and a lovely bronze-skinned girl appeared. She turned to run, but Pirum caught her in his muscular arms and held her despite her struggles.

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