The Desert Spear. Peter Brett V.

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СКАЧАТЬ there were no inhabitants to be found.

      The village of Baha kad’Everam was built in tiers cut into the cliff face. A wide, uneven stair led up in zigzag, forming a terrace for the adobe buildings on each level. There were no signs of life in the village, and cloth door flaps drifted lazily in the breeze. It reminded Jardir of some of the older parts of the Desert Spear; large parts of the city were abandoned as the population dwindled. The ancient buildings were a testament to when Krasians were numberless.

      “What happened here?” Jardir wondered aloud.

      “Isn’t it obvious?” Abban asked. Jardir looked at him curiously.

      “Stop staring at the village and take a wider look,” Abban said. Jardir turned and saw that the river had not appeared to be a trickle merely because of a trick of height. The waters hardly reached a third of the way up the deep bed.

      “Not enough rain,” Abban said, “or a diversion of the water’s path upriver. The change likely robbed the Bahavans of the fish they depended on to survive.”

      “That wouldn’t explain the death of a whole village,” Jardir said.

      Abban shrugged. “Perhaps the water turned sour as it shallowed, picking up silt from the riverbed. Either way, by sickness or hunger, the Bahavans must not have been able to maintain their wards.” He gestured to the deep claw marks in the adobe walls of some of the buildings.

      Kaval turned to Jardir. “Search the village for signs of survivors,” he said. Jardir bowed and turned to his nie’Sharum, breaking them into groups of two and sending each to a different level. The boys darted up the uneven stairs as easily as they ran the walltops of the Maze.

      It quickly became apparent that Abban had been right. There were signs of demons in almost every building, claw marks on walls and furniture and signs of struggle everywhere.

      “No bodies, though,” Abban noted.

      “Eaten,” Jardir said, pointing to what appeared to be black stone with a few bits of white sticking from it, sitting on the floor.

      “What’s that?” Abban asked.

      “Demon dung,” Jardir said. “Alagai eat their victims whole and shit out the bones.” Abban slapped a hand to his mouth, but it was not enough. He ran to the side of the room to retch.

      They reported their findings to Drillmaster Kaval, who nodded as if this were no surprise. “Walk at my back, Nie Ka,” he said, and Jardir followed him as the drillmaster walked over to where Dama Khevat stood with the kai’Sharum.

      “The nie’Sharum confirm there are no survivors, Dama,” Kaval said. The kai’Sharum outranked him, but Kaval was a drillmaster and had likely trained every warrior on the expedition, including the kai’Sharum. As it was said, The words of the red veil carry more weight than the white.

      Dama Khevat nodded. “The alagai cursed the ground when they broke through the wards, trapping the spirits of the dead khaffit in this world. I can feel their screams in the air.” He looked up at Kaval. “A Waning is upon us. We will spend the first two days and nights preparing the village and praying.”

      “And on the third night of Waning?” Kaval asked.

      “On the third night, we will dance alagai’sharak,” Khevat said, “to hallow the ground and set their spirits free, that they might be reincarnated in hope of a better caste.”

      Kaval bowed. “Of course, Dama.” He looked up at the stairs and buildings built into the cliff face, and the wide courtyard beneath leading down to the riverbank. “It will be mostly clay demons here,” he guessed, “though likely a few wind and sand as well.” He turned to the kai’Sharum. “With your permission, I will have the dal’Sharum dig warded demon pits in the courtyard, and set ambush points on the stairs to drive the alagai off the cliff and into the pits to await the sun.”

      The kai’Sharum nodded, and the drillmaster turned to Jardir. “Set the nie’Sharum to clearing the buildings of any debris we can make into barricades.” Jardir nodded and turned to go, but Kaval caught his arm. “See that they loot nothing,” he warned. “All must go as sacrifice to alagai’sharak.”

      “You and I will clear the first level,” Jardir told Abban.

      “Seven is a luckier number,” Abban said. “Let Jurim and Shanjat clear the first.”

      Jardir looked at Abban’s leg skeptically. Abban had managed to keep up with the march, but his limp had not gone away, and Jardir often saw him massaging the limb when he thought no one was watching.

      “I thought the first would be an easier ascent, with your leg not fully healed,” Jardir said.

      Abban put his hands on his hips. “My friend, you wound me!” he said. “I am fit as the finest camel in the bazaar. You were right to push me to exceed myself each day, and a climb to the seventh level will only help.”

      Jardir shrugged. “As you wish,” he said, and they set off climbing the steps after he had given instructions to the other nie’Sharum.

      The irregular stone steps of Baha were cut into the cliff face, shored at key points with sandstone and clay. They were sometimes as narrow as a man’s foot, and other times required many paces to the next step. Worn stone showed the passage of many laden wagons pulled by beasts of burden. The steps changed direction with each tier, branching off a path to the buildings of that level.

      They had not gone far before Abban’s breath labored, his round face beading with sweat. His limp grew worse, and by the fifth level he was hissing in pain with every step.

      “Perhaps we’ve gone far enough for one day,” Jardir ventured.

      “Nonsense, my friend,” Abban said. “I am…” he groaned and blew out a breath, “…strong as a camel.”

      Jardir smiled and slapped him on the back. “We’ll make a warrior of you yet.”

      They reached the seventh level at last, and Jardir turned to look out over the low wall. Far below, the dal’Sharum bent their backs, digging wide demon pits with short spades. The pits were set right at the edge of the first tier, so that a demon hurled from the very wall Jardir looked over would land within. Jardir felt a flash of excitement for the battle to come, even though he and the other nie’Sharum would not be allowed to fight.

      He turned to Abban, but his friend had moved on down the terrace, ignoring the view.

      “We should start clearing the buildings,” Jardir said, but Abban seemed not to hear, limping purposefully away. Jardir caught up just as Abban stopped in front of a great archway, breaking into a wide smile as he looked up at the symbols carved into the arch.

      “Level seven, I knew it!” Abban said. “The same as the number of pillars between Heaven and Ala.”

      “I’ve never seen wards like those,” Jardir said, looking at the symbols.

      “Those aren’t wards, they are drawn words,” Abban said.

      Jardir looked at him curiously. “Like those written in the Evejah?”

      Abban СКАЧАТЬ