Part 21 (2/2)

Gelyya dragged herself back into control, wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Alouzon gave her hand a squeeze. ”I'm glad to see you, Gelyya. Hang in there. You did okay in Bandon. You can do it again.” She glanced between the midwife and the apprentice. ”Okay. Talk. We just got back in country, and the place is a mess. What's been happening?''

Taking turns, Kallye and Gelyya told her as much as they knew of the tale of deceit, rape, and preternatural battle that Gryylth had become. When they were done, Alouzon sighed. Her brown hands lay clenched on the table, but her voice was surprisingly controlled. ”Well, that explains what happened to the Specter.”

”Indeed, Alouzon,” said Wykla. ”It explains much.”

”But the battles ...” Alouzon shook her head. ”It doesn't make sense. Why should they be fighting?”

Manda shrugged, but her eyes were cold. ”Helwych betrayed Corrin, then turned on Vaylle and Gryylth. Perhaps he has proved traitorous to the Specter, also.”

Alouzon laughed bitterly. ”The little s.h.i.+t's got b.a.l.l.s, doesn't he?”

Manda turned to the midwife. ”Honored lady,” she said, ”has there been word of Corrin?”

Kallye shook her head. ”I am sorry, maiden: there has been none. We have no news these days save what Helwych deems fit for us to know, and there is no travel in Gryylth save by Grayfaces and hounds.”

Gelyya spoke up. ”Dragonmaster, counsel us. What shall we do? The queen has not been seen in a month and a half, the people are starving, and even if the battles ended tomorrow, there would still be no food.”

Alouzon's eyes were on her hands. Kallye knew that she wanted to seize the Dragonsword and, like Gelyya, do something. Anything. The Dragonmaster's mouth worked, but she did not speak.

Kallye looked away. In her mind, she saw the hollow faces of motherless children, the still faces of dead women, the ravaged faces of starving infants. She, too, could not speak. She was certain that, had she tried to form words, she would have screamed instead.

Gelyya pressed. ”Please, Dragonmaster.”

Alouzon sighed, unclenched her fists. ”It's my fault,” she said with an effort. ”If I hadn't been such a G.o.ddam chicken, a lot of this wouldn't have happened.”

”Shall we kill Helwych?” said Wykla. ”We entered the town unseen. It should be a simple matter to scale the palisade and enter the Hall.”

”Aye,” said Manda. ”The penalty for treason is death, in Corrin as well as in Gryylth, and for myself I am ashamed that a countryman has proved himself such a wretch.”

Alouzon pa.s.sed a hand over her face. ”It'd sure be nice, wouldn't it?'' But she shook her head. ' 'Helwych is the only thing standing between the Specter and the towns. If we kill him, I guarantee that the jets will hit Kingsbury and every other inhabited place in Gryylth within the hour.''

Manda stared. ”Do we then help the traitor?”

”No,” said Alouzon slowly. ”I've got another idea. I'll have to deal with the Specter when the time's right. That's my job. But Cvinthil and Darham and the rest are the ones to take out Helwych. And I'm sure that Kyria is going to enjoy s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g that b.a.s.t.a.r.d to the floor.” She turned to Kallye. ”Relys and Timbrin are in Quay?”

”We do not know for certain, Dragonmaster. They set out nearly a month ago. We pray daily for their safety.''

”Then that's our next stop,” said Alouzon. ”We'll start tonight, and-”

Kallye was shaking her head. ”The guards and the Grayfaces have orders to kill anyone who tries to leave Kingsbury.''

Alouzon smiled without mirth. ”If they're running, then they're the enemy, right?”

”Well, yes .

”I've heard it before.” Alouzon shrugged. ”We'll get out the same way we got in. We'll slit throats if we have to. Given what the boys did to Relys, I don't think we'll mind much.” She looked to her companions. ”We'll need horses.”

”I saw men and horses stationed at the base of the hill,” said Wykla.

Alouzon nodded, but her expression softened when she rose and bowed to Kallye and Gelyya. ”Thanks for everything,” she said. ”Thanks a million. I can't give you any advice except to hang on. In about two weeks this place is going to erupt. There's ...” She looked sad. ”There's going to be some fighting. I ... can't help that. I'm sorry.”

In her face, Kallye saw deep grief, the same grief that she saw every day now in the eyes of mothers bending over the still forms of their children. She took Alouzon's hands. ”Even the G.o.ds sometimes find Themselves helpless, dear Dragonmaster.”

Alouzon nodded slowly. ”Yeah,” she said, ”they sure do, don't they?”

She embraced the midwife, kissed Gelyya, and, in another minute, she and her companions had vanished into the rainy night.

Heedless of the rain, Gelyya stood at the open door and looked after her. ”I love that woman,” she said softly, and Kallye saw that the apprentice's fists, like Alouzon's, were balled in the manner of one who wished for a weapon.

Alouzon, Wykla, and Manda struck the outpost at the base of Kingsbury Hill silently, efficiently. The young men in Helwych's service did not realize that they were under attack until they were regaining consciousness several hours later, and though the Gray-faces were more alert, they had no chance to react before Alouzon emptied the magazine of an M16 into them.

The shots were loud, but no alarm was raised on the hill: either the thunder had masked the noise, or gunfire had become an accepted occurrence here in the war zone. ”Come on,” said Alouzon, unnerved by the lack of response. ”Let's move, fast.”

Mounted now on war horses, they rode as quickly as they could into the rainy night, following the Roman road that stretched north across the blasted fields. Their way was lit intermittently not only by the flashes of lightning, but also by the distant, unheard detonations of heavy artillery that turned the horizon into black cardboard silhouettes and the clouds into gray cotton; but such travel in the dark was uncertain at best, and as soon as they were well away from Kings-bury Hill and the danger of immediate pursuit, Alouzon called to her companions to slow down.

They picked their way up into the foothills of the Camrann, then, and huddled in the shelter of some blasted trees to await the dawn. It was a miserable camp-wet, fireless, with only peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwiches to eat-and the howls of prowling hounds and the roar of high explosive sounded clearly over the miles: in Gryylth, as in Indochina, the war went on regardless of the weather.

”Get some sleep, you two,” said Alouzon. ”We start for Quay as soon as it's light.”

Manda's face, lined with worry and mud, made her look like an old woman. There had been no word from Corrin. Anything could be happening beyond the remains of the Great Dike. ”But then what? Where do we go then? To Corrin? The women's phalanxes are still there, maybe-”

”We're going to Lachrae,” said Alouzon.

Manda shook her head. Wykla frowned. ”But . . . the curtain wall.”

”It's not a problem. Obviously, the Specter can get through it. If the Specter can get through, then Silbakor can too.”

”And. . .” Wykla was nodding. ”Silbakor can take us to Vaylle.”

”Exactly.”

Manda was still shaking her head. ”But once we are in Vaylle, what then?”

”Then we get Cvinthil and Kyria and the boys, and we come home to kick some a.s.s.”

”On Silbakor?”

”Nope.” Alouzon folded her arms. It was all coming together, had, in fact, fallen together when she stood in the Temple of Lachrae, an invoked G.o.ddess manifesting in the body of Her devoted priestess. The Grail, she was sure, had seen to it.

”Helwych barred the way back,” she said. ”But he opened some doors, too. Remember?”

Manda and Wykla suddenly understood. Manda caught her breath. ”Through Los Angeles?” she cried. ”Oh, Alouzon! That is wonderful!”

Alouzon shrugged. It was a terrible risk, but the Grail, she decided, would come through. It would have to. She could not question it any more. She could not afford it. ”The archaeology department will probably never be the same,'' she admitted. ' 'And as for us . . .” She thought of what could happen if the Specter found her, recalled that-by necessity, by the need for an end to this mazed and dialectic-ridden quest-it would have to. ”We may not be the same, either.”

The sound of machine gun fire drifted across the rooftops of Kingsbury, breaking through the stillness with a noise like a sudden tearing of coa.r.s.e cloth. Helwych's orders were being carried out with greater ruthlessness and efficiency since the attack on the garrison at the base of the hill, but day by day the people were increasingly desperate to flee.

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