Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [95]
“Thank you, but I am fine.” Mubin had his leotau sit, but with his useless legs he stayed in the saddle. “I apologize for not dismounting, Highness. I mean no disrespect.”
“That’s quite all right, under the circumstances.”
A thin man with a robe draped over his hunched shoulders walked out of the castle keep and came down the steps to join them. As he approached, Mubin noticed the emblem stitched into the man’s robes: a half-lidded eye, with the iris pointing upward. He was the same man that had accompanied Aarsil the Blessed to the match in the arena, Mubin thought. How long had that order had had the ear of the Blessed caste?
“Sir Mubin,” said Aarsil the Blessed. “May I introduce my advisor?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir knight,” said the Skyward Eye advisor. “The Order of the Reliquary is a worthy cause, deepening our roots in the history of Valeron and all of Bant.”
Mubin nodded in what he hoped was a polite manner.
“What brings you here, may I ask?” asked Aarsil.
“I’m here to ask for your help.”
“You’re welcome to any assistance we can provide.”
“Thank you. Let me be blunt. I need to dig up the Twelve Trees of Valeron.”
NAYA
Zaliki’s journey took her deep into the woods and up through the foothills. When night came, she didn’t stop, and traveled by the light of the moon. Overhead, she heard the sounds of flying creatures—horrible monsters making war on Naya, and she saw streams of fire and the bright spellcraft of elves. The world was changing in ways she didn’t understand, but she had to focus on what she could affect. She only knew she had to get to the ancient forbidden city of Qasal—before Marisi’s army did.
By morning she had reached the outer walls of Qasal. She saw a tower spire reaching up from inside the city. On the hills beyond it, she saw the broken white stones of the Coil, carved with the scratchforms that codified nacatl law before Marisi’s revolution had smashed it to pieces. How she longed to spend time with them and Jazal’s documents, comparing the writings between them.
An arrow pierced the ground next to Zaliki’s foot. She turned to see Cloud Nacatl archers along the top of the city walls.
“I’m unarmed and alone,” Zaliki called up to the walls of Qasal, the capital of the Cloud Nacatl prides.
As far as Zaliki knew, the Cloud Nacatl hadn’t had a Wild Nacatl visitor since the breaking of the Coil. The two super-prides had been divided since Marisi’s revolt. If they trusted her, it would be a miracle.
A guard called down from the top of the wall. “You’re a Wild Nacatl and a shaman,” he said. “You coming here even with hands empty is an act of aggression. Speak quickly and carefully, before I tire of instructing my archers to miss.”
“I need your help,” said Zaliki. “And, I fear, in a few days’ time, you will need mine.”
The Cloud Nacatl ambassador was a stern, gray-furred nacatl. He wore layer upon layer of fine robes in colors of ochre and maroon, and silver rings on his fingers. Beside him sat an old female with white eyes.
“I am Banat, and this is my advisor, Ruki,” said the ambassador. “You’re being given an audience only because you cooperated with the guards, but I warn you—if you cause any disturbance, we will be forced to act.”
“Yes,” creaked the old crone Ruki. “I’ll be forced to kill you.”
Zaliki kept her retort to herself. She nodded.
“You say an army approaches,” said Banat.
“Yes,” Zaliki said. “Marisi, or someone claiming to be him, has gathered all of the Wild Nacatl together once again. They intend to mount an attack on Qasal.”
Banat frowned. “This is very serious. Do you have any evidence of this?”
“Send your scouts to the east, into the valley. They’ll see the advancing army there. They intend to attack on the anniversary of the breaking of the Coil.”
“You risk death by coming here,” said Ruki. “Why would you warn us?”
“Because I believe that Marisi isn’t actually after Qasal.” She produced Jazal’s documents and slid them across the table. Ambassador Banat began to study them. “He’s after … the obelisk.”
Their faces showed