From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [115]
“Which way to the stables, my lady?” Noam asked.
“To the right of the fountain, past the temple.”
The wagon turned sharply. Averella gripped the side and stared at the fountain. What once had been a beautiful cascade of water over the sculpture of the Mahanaim justice scales now oozed dark slime. She wrinkled her nose and turned toward the temple of Dâthos.
The circular colonnade filled the northeastern corner of the courtyard. The black and white banners hung limp, moist from the stale air of Darkness.
Noam stopped the wagon at the stables. Harnu got down and quickly bartered a trade with the stablemaster.
“Any of them boats down there’ll do.” The stablemaster gestured toward narrow stone steps that led down to the canals. “You want to put up your horses, it will cost you extra.”
Noam unharnessed the horses, but Harnu said, “Leave ’em to me. You and the women carry the supplies to the boat. I’ll meet you there.” He and the stablemaster each led a horse inside the stables.
Noam stood staring after them.
Averella set her hand against his arm. “He is taking his role to heart, is he not, Master Fox? Come, I am sure all will be well. Can you carry the larger pack?”
The stairs leading down to the water were lit so poorly they could hardly see. They moved slowly down them until they reached a stone pier that stretched along a murky canal under the courtyard above. Dozens of small wooden boats were tethered along the pier. The occasional torch reflected off the dark water. On the end of the pier, to the far right of the stronghold, the canal turned and snaked between a city of buildings.
They loaded their gear into the nearest boat and stood beside it, waiting for Harnu to return.
“What about the horses?” Noam asked.
“They will be fine in the stables,” Averella said. “We will do as the guards suggested: we will rent a room and plan what to do next.” Her words were more confident than she felt. Arman, show us the way.
Gren paced along the waterfront. Noam stood at the foot of the stairs, staring up. Averella sat in the boat, rocking gently in the canal.
A man yelled in the distance. A burst of orange flame arched overhead and landed on the thatched roof of a three story high building. A woman screamed.
Another cluster of arrows, tips ablaze, passed over the sentry wall and hissed as they sank into the canal. Armor jangled above as guards ran to duty. Voices split the silent night.
“From the east.”
“It’s the Pawn King!”
“Guard your thoughts, for he can enter your mind faster than Darkness.”
Averella smiled, amused at this embellishment of Achan’s gifts. But her amusement changed her smile to a frown. For what did she truly know of Prince Gidon’s gifts? And since when did she feel comfortable calling him Achan? It was as if her heart knew something her mind hadn’t yet learned. Or remembered.
Another sprinkling of fiery arrows fell from the sky.
“He should be back by now!” Gren said.
Averella reached for Harnu’s mind. Master Poe, are you well?
My lady! The stronghold’s under attack. Soldiers have set up a siege engine in front of the stairs. I cannot reach you. I’ll find you later.
Very well, Master Poe. Fare you well.
An arrow landed in the boat. Gren screamed. Noam clambered into the tiny craft and tossed his pack on the arrow, snuffing the flame.
“Into the boat.” Averella stood to help Gren into the craft.
Gren looked over her shoulder at the staircase. “What about Harnu?”
“He is trapped at the moment, as will we be if we do not move now. Come, Master Poe will find us later.”
Averella pulled Gren into the boat.
Noam helped her sit, then loosed the tether and pushed the boat away from the wall. He sat in the middle, facing the women, and started to row. “Where shall I take us?”
Averella took in their surroundings again. Now that they were on the water, something about this canal felt familiar. “Out into the city.”
An explosion of rock cracked overhead. Averella hunched