Talsy spent the night snuggled close to Chanter on the soft pallets the soldiers brought up, safe from Dolana's creeping cold. Good food and wine filled their bellies, and her only regret was that he only held her, but she was content. When the stomp of feet on the stairs woke her in dawn's cool light, she found her cheek cushioned on his arm, pressed close to him. Sitting up, she stretched. Chanter remained prone on the pallet, his eyes closed. He opened them when a group of panting people emerged from the stairway, a wheezing Tranton leading them.
Jashon followed, scowling, then a man in a gold-trimmed purple cloak. Tranton introduced him as Cusak, the governor, and he eyed them with a belligerent expression. Chanter gazed at something in the sky. Several advisors joined the crowd, then two servants with trays laden with steaming bowls of porridge, bacon, eggs and hot milk. The smell of food made the Mujar sit up at last and take an interest. He and Talsy ate while the governor fidgeted, looking sour.
"You could have been the richest man in the city, Mujar. Do you mock me with your free aid?"
Talsy glanced at Chanter, who ignored the man. She said, "He can't be bribed."
"I know," Cusak said. "No one can make a Mujar help. He'd have stood by and watched us all die."
"That's right. If you help them they'll help you, but you can't force them."
Cusak snorted. "They mock us with their powers and reward us for good behaviour as if they're better than us."
"They are."
Jashon snarled, "They're damned worthless yellow -" He broke off as Tranton elbowed him.
Cusak paced around, glaring at the Mujar, who concentrated on his meal. "Why only three days?"
Chanter glanced up. "It's enough."
"What do you mean, enough? What if the Hashon Jahar are still there after three days?"
The Mujar shrugged and spooned his porridge.
Cusak reddened and stepped towards him. "Answer me, damn you!"
Talsy stood up and blocked his way. "He granted you three days, and he means that it's enough to repay you for freeing him. No Mujar will be trapped by a limitless promise of aid, it takes away their freedom." She remembered, with deep shame, her attempt to make him stay with her indefinitely, which in turn reminded her of the finite nature of the clan bond. How would she react, on the day he broke it and left? Would she also be angry and curse him?
Cusak snarled, "And then the Black Riders will attack us anyway."
"If they're still waiting."
"You'll die too. Doesn't he look after his clan?"
Talsy opened her mouth to answer, but Chanter said, "No harm will come to my clan."
The governor's eyes narrowed. "If your clan is still in the city, you'll have to stay, won't you?"
The Mujar nodded. "But only she will be safe."
Talsy's heart swelled, and tears burnt her eyes. It did not matter that it was the clan bond that made him take care of her, or that his feelings towards her were a mystery and likely to remain so. If, indeed, he had any. Her affection for him could not be denied, and his loyalty to their bond filled her with joy.
Cusak looked incensed, and Jashon burst out, "You bastard! You -" He broke off as the governor held up a hand.
Cusak spoke calmly. "Mujar, what if I offered you clan bond?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I have a clan."
"Her?" Cusak gestured at Talsy. "I can offer you much more. Better comforts, more food, anything you want."
"No." The Mujar raised an impassive gaze.
Cusak approached Chanter, who rose to his feet and backed away.
Talsy stepped between them again. "Leave him alone. If you harm him now, you break the Wish and he'll leave you with no protection at all." She had no idea if this was true, but it sounded good, and stopped Cusak in his tracks.
The governor glared at her, his hands clenched. From his thunderous expression, she knew that the only thing he found more irritating than an obstinate Mujar was an uppity slip of a Trueman girl. Unable to threaten Chanter, he focussed his anger on her.
"You're an insolent little bitch."
Tranton plucked at the governor's sleeve, distracting him. "Your Grace, how long before the Hashon Jahar get here?"
Cusak swung away, scowling. "The last scout said a couple of hours, no more."
Talsy returned to her meal, and Chanter sat beside her, shooting the governor guarded looks. Cusak leant on the railing and glared at the distant forests beyond the cultivated fields around the city. When he finished his food, Chanter rose and went to lean against the rail on the far side of the tower. Talsy joined him, and he glanced at her.
"They should not stay here."
"Why? Oh." She remembered her reaction to her first experience of a manifestation of the Powers. The thought of these cruel, proud men cowering in terror at Chanter's power appealed to her, and she was tempted to say nothing. Chanter frowned, and she sighed, rolled her eyes and approached Tranton. Not caring whether they took her advice or not, she informed the hirsute man of Chanter's warning, leaving him to persuade the governor, if he could. Evidently he was unsuccessful, for Cusak stayed, though a few of the advisors left.
The wait seemed much longer than two hours. Tension stretched the time, the atmosphere thick with hatred and resentment. Cusak glared at Chanter, and Talsy glowered back, irked by his lack of gratitude on top of everything else. Jashon's thin face was fixed in a permanent scowl, while Tranton studied the scene with a supercilious smile. Chanter watched the wheeling crows, apparently disinterested in the Truemen and their ill-concealed emotions. His nostrils flared as the breeze lifted the hair from his neck.
The water used in his healing had washed off the blood, and no sign of his ordeal remained. Once again, he reminded Talsy of a wild creature gazing out of a cage, longing for the freedom of the wide open spaces that beckoned from without. Granting her Wish had trapped Chanter, but in three days he would be free again. She was certain that he would waste no time quitting this horrible city and the company of its hateful inhabitants. The Truemen's rancour galled her, and their sullen silence ate at her nerves.
When Cusak stiffened, it was almost a relief. He pointed across the fields. "There they are!"
Everyone stared at the distant trees, and the black line that obscured their base, like deep shadow. Too deep. The blackness seeped from the forest like darkness at dusk. Talsy's heart pounded and her blood turned cold. Just the sight of them, even from this distance, was unnerving. The Black Riders. Hashon Jahar. Riders of Death. They had many names, and stories of their utter ruthlessness preceded them, carried by those who fled the carnage on swift steeds to warn others.
Few escaped the Hashon Jahar, and those who did survived only a short time before the Black Death caught up with them. Some said that they were invincible, that they killed only for the pleasure of it and did not bother to loot the towns they vanquished. Others told stories of village headmen who went out to meet the Black Riders and offer their surrender, but never returned, and their villages were destroyed. No one knew exactly who they were, but most thought they were a savage tribe from the south, intent on conquering the entire continent.
Everything about them was black, from their steeds to their skins. No city, fortress, town or village had withstood their attack. No one had ever survived, except... She looked at Chanter.
"You've seen them before, when they wiped out your clan."
He nodded.
"Did they know you were Mujar?"
"Yes."
"Who are they? Why didn't they throw you in a Pit?"
Chanter's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the distant Riders, and he frowned, clearly considering her questions. "It would be better to ask what they are, not who."
"You mean they're not Truemen?" Talsy's mind raced. "If they're not Truemen, what are they? Are they of this world?"
He glanced at her. "Yes."
"Why do they slaughter us? What do they want?"
"I can't tell you that."
Talsy watched the approaching blackness. The leaders left the trees and moved towards the city in a column that stretched all the way back to the forest. They moved at a gallop, the speed of their advance making the column look like a black snake gliding towards the city. Shiny armour and jet blades flashed in the sunlight; tall lances stitched the landscape like black thread on green silk.
The thunder of their horses' hooves came faintly on the wind, bringing with it deep dread. In the city below, a hush fell as people listened to death's approach. Many looked up at the tower where the Mujar stood, one man against an army. Talsy glanced at him again. His eyes looked like slits of sky. A thought struck her like a thunderbolt out of the blue, and the question trotted off her tongue unbidden.
"Do they die?"
He hesitated, perhaps surprised by her question, and closed his eyes as if loath to answer it. When he opened them again, he gazed at the approaching menace. "No."
"They're immortal, like you!"
"No." He turned to face her. "Not like me."
"How many creatures of this world are immortal?"
"They're not immortal."
"You just said..."
He shook his head, frowning. "I can't tell you any more."
The Black Riders crossed the cultivated land around the city, the rumble of their hooves growing louder. The horses continued at a full gallop, apparently tireless. The city's populace stood still, riveted by the approaching thunder. Talsy wondered how close Chanter was going to let them get. Cusak turned to glare at the Mujar.
"It's about time you did something." He failed to control the tremor in his voice.
Chanter watched the Hashon Jahar, who poured across the ploughed fields, eerily silent but for the thunder of hooves. Talsy could make out individual riders now, clad in black armour, astride huge steeds, armoured like their riders. Why did they need armour? She glanced at Cusak, whose lips where white as he stared at the approaching army. Behind her, Tranton's wheeze grew louder.
The Black Riders rode four abreast, and the four behind the leaders swerved out to ride beside them, then the next four moved to the other side. They spread out with finely tuned precision, slowing to allow the ones behind to move to the sides, forming a long line. The horses tossed their heads and pranced, manes flying in the wind. Their pace slowed further as those at the back of the column raced to take up their positions at the ends of the line. Talsy could not count them. There seemed to be thousands, and more still emerged from the forest.
They stopped, and some of the horses reared, fighting their bits. The thunder faded to a muted rumble as only the hooves of those who still raced to join the line broke the stillness. The line stretched for miles, and the last Riders formed up behind the first until they stood in rows four deep. As they halted, a deathly silence fell, so intense that it beat at Talsy's ears. A crow’s harsh, ominous caw broke it. She looked at the governor, noting the film of sweat on his upper lip. The Hashon Jahar's mounts settled, becoming still. Thousands of lances lowered in unison, as if a silent signal had been sent. The destriers leapt into a gallop, the thunder loud after the prior stillness.
Chanter straightened, frowning, and she braced herself. The manifestation of Crayash filled the air with illusory fire. Heat scorched her skin and flames blinded her. It seemed as if Hell had engulfed her in its fiery horror, and she closed her eyes, holding her breath. The manifestation vanished, leaving the governor and his party yelling and beating at their clothes. Tranton alone remained calm, and he tried to soothe the irate and embarrassed Cusak.
Despite her wish to witness their humiliation, Talsy's attention was riveted to what was happening beyond the city walls. Chanter raised an arm and pointed towards the river bank on the left. Blue fire erupted from the earth with roar, rising more than twenty feet high. He moved his arm around in an arc, and the fire followed. A wall of flame shot up where he pointed, drawing a ring around the city some fifty feet from the wall. He turned, the fire following, until his finger pointed at the river bank to the right of the city, completing the barrier.
The Hashon Jahar slowed, their mounts rearing and plunging as they were forced to halt mere yards from the flames. The Riders raised their lances in unison, set them upright in their stirrups and became still. It seemed as if an army of statues faced the city, and Cusak stared at them with a triumphant, feral grin.
"We did it!" he cried. "We stopped the Hashon Jahar!"
Talsy frowned at him, but Chanter smiled as if privy to some secret joke. Lookouts shouted the news from their vantages all along the city wall, and a great cheer went up from the streets below. It spread into the city, swelling into a clamour as people danced and clapped in wild celebration. Cusak pounded Jashon on the back as if it was all his doing. Jashon reddened and smiled, ducking his head in a parody of humble acceptance. Talsy turned away from their orgy of self-congratulation with a snort and leant against the railing beside Chanter. He gazed at the Riders, his expression unreadable. She slipped her hand into his, and he cast her a smile, his eyes gentle.
Below them, the crowd danced, and pipes and drums played merry tunes. A queue formed to mount the steps onto the battlements and stare at the fiery barrier that guarded the city. Beyond it, the Hashon Jahar waited. Talsy studied Chanter, expecting to find some sign of strain from the effort of holding the fire with his will, but he appeared relaxed, as if this great miracle cost him nothing at all. The governor clumped down the stairs with his bevy of followers, and cheering from below told her that he had left the tower to bask in the crowd's accolades. Talsy was glad to be left alone with Chanter again, and gazed at the leaping flames.
"How do you do it?"
Chanter glanced at her. "The Crayash?" He shrugged. "Willpower."
"Willpower?" She shook her head. "It can't be that simple."
"It is." He smiled and gestured at the fire wall. "Every element of this world is a part of me, as they're a part of everything, though some more than others. Just as the Crayash within me warms me and is part of me, so the fire in the world around me is also part of me."
"You mean you control the world as though it was part of you?"
"It is a part of me. Every particle of this world has a twin within me, formed at the same time. When the stars came together and started to burn, this world was formed from dust and gas. I'm made of that same dust and gas, so controlling the rest of it is just an act of will."
"I'm also made of the same elements," she said, "yet I can't control any of it, not even my body, beyond a certain point."
"Because you've lost the ability to command the world. Your people came to rely on your hands and brains, and gave up the power over the elements."
Talsy frowned. "Could we ever get it back?"
"No. It's lost to you forever because you don't understand it anymore, and it can't be taught."
"Well, unlike those envious bastards who tortured you, I respect your abilities."
Chanter sighed and leant on the railing. "They're ignorant. It's not their fault. They've strayed far from their world and the protection and guidance of their god. You, perhaps, have accepted this world better than they."
Talsy studied the Hashon Jahar, who remained immobile in their orderly ranks, as if they would stay like that forever. Their armour glinted in the flames' blue light, and the heat shimmer distorted their forms so she could not make out their faces.
She looked at Chanter. "How long do you think they'll wait?"
He shrugged. "Who knows?"
"Couldn't you... frighten them away?"
"I granted protection, nothing more."
Talsy nodded. "But you could do more, couldn't you? You could make the earth swallow them, for instance. After all, if they can't die, you wouldn't be killing."
"Could you throw a Mujar into a Pit?"
"No! Of course not!"
Chanter smiled. "Yet he wouldn't die. So I can't make the earth swallow them. There's no need."
"But Mujar are good, harmless people. These are murderers, destroyers."
He shook his head. "That's not for us to judge. We're not gods."
"I would say it was pretty self-evident. You don't need to be a god to know what they've done."
"But you don't know why they did it."
She frowned. "You know why they do it, don't you? You know what they are, too, so why won't you tell me?"
"I can't." He turned away. "Maybe someday I'll be able to, but not now."
A scowling servant served them lunch, and they spent the rest of the day resting as music and laughter wafted up from the streets below. Talsy took advantage of their inactivity and seclusion to ask Chanter about Mujar, but, while he would not impart any further information on that subject, he did speak freely about his life with the hill clan. She found his reticence frustrating, but told herself that he must have his reasons. That, plus the ease with which he was able to save the city, gave her a little insight into the reasons why Truemen hated Mujar. It did seem cruel and unfair to deny aid that was so easily given, but again she rebuked herself. He must have at least one excellent reason, and she was determined to discover what it was. Until then, she decided, she would not judge him.
When dusk fell, the city quieted as weary revellers retired, safe within the hated Mujar's protection. After dark, the sheet of flame lighted the countryside with leaping blue radiance. A low bank of cloud reflected it, and glinting armour moved in the darkness beyond. The light threw deep shadows into the streets, outshining the few dim lamps. The fiery wall was like a scene from Hell. It drowned out the moonlight and made the world seem darker.
Chanter lay with her until she fell asleep, but she woke later, cold and alone. He stood by the railing, staring at the fire wall.
Talsy rose and joined him. "What's wrong?"
"The Hashon Jahar tried to cross the river beyond the barrier."
Talsy followed his gaze. The fire crossed the river upstream, extending the wall to the far bank. It roared from the water, sending up clouds of steam. The Black Riders milled on the bank, their steeds plunging and wheeling away from the flames. Talsy glanced at the Mujar, who watched them with narrowed eyes that glowed in the flames' light.
"What if they try to swim under the fire?" she asked.
"They won't. The barrier extends below the surface."
"Fire under the water?"
He smiled. "No, ice."
"But how can the river flow?"
"It's not a solid wall. The water can pass through it, but not men."
She gazed at the Black Riders. "If they can't die, why don't they just walk through the fire?"
"They can be harmed, and they would be so badly burnt that they would not be able to fight once they got through it. And if they did get through, I would raise a wall of ice within the circle. Then, if they had the strength to smash their way through several feet of ice and tried, I would thicken the wall. If they somehow got through the ice, I would raise a wall of rock. They can't win, and they know it. No one can defy the will of a Mujar except another, and if two of us had to fight, which we never would, we would tear the world apart."
Talsy nodded, reassured. "So they thought they could sneak past while you were asleep?"
"It seems so, but Mujar don't need to sleep. They know that, but if they thought me inattentive, they were wrong."
They waited until the Hashon Jahar returned to the fields, where they settled once more. Chanter lay with her until morning, when the servant brought them breakfast. Beyond the fire wall, the Riders had dismounted and stood or sat in groups, their steeds lying on the ploughed ground. Evidently they had settled down for a long wait, but showed no signs of setting up camp, and their horses carried only saddles and armour. They remained mostly motionless and utterly silent, as if dozing. Talsy squinted at them through the fire wall's heat shimmer, but they were too distant and distorted to see clearly.
Talsy spent the morning alone with Chanter, but at lunchtime Tranton came to ask why the fire wall now crossed the river. Talsy told him, and he left to inform the governor. In the city below, life seemed to have returned to normal, apart from the queues of people still climbing the wall to gaze at the fire wall. The bridges groaned under the crowds that came to see the fire that crossed the river, often hidden behind clouds of billowing steam. The day passed uneventfully, as did the night.
In the afternoon of the second day, Talsy decided to go down into the city to buy the supplies they would need to continue their journey, replacing what she had lost. A guard accompanied her, walking behind with a spear at the ready. The people's hostility amazed her, for their hatred seemed to have grown. Many spat at her and shouted insults, their faces twisted with hate. The guardsman was forced to shake his spear many times to keep them at bay. Talsy's anger grew at their ingratitude, and she longed to shout back that they owed their lives to a Mujar, and should be grateful. She knew it would be futile, however, and her shopping was fraught with problems. Many shopkeepers refused to serve her until the soldier made them, and others closed their shops when they saw her coming.
At the armourer, a stony-eyed man glared at her. She asked for a good hunting knife, and he produced a poor rusty thing. A passer-by paused to spit on the street beside her.
"Mujar whore!"
The guard raised his spear, and the man walked off.
Talsy turned back to the armourer. "I want a good knife, not a piece of rubbish. I have silver."
The blacksmith shrugged. "We're all out."
Boxes of knives glinted behind a bead curtain, and she restrained her anger with an effort. "Then I'd like to order one made."
"We're too busy. We have to make swords to fight the Black Riders when the yellow filth leaves."
"Be glad that the yellow filth is even buying you the time to make them," she snarled.
The armourer turned away. "I don't have to listen to you, Mujar slut. Go back to your scum lover."
Talsy wanted to leap over the counter and throttle him. As she was about to turn away, another man appeared through the curtains. He had a well-trimmed grey beard; his face burnt deep brown from years working near a furnace. He raised an enquiring brow at the younger man.
"What's going on, Ranar?"
"It's the Mujar bitch from the tower."
"Ah." The older man looked at Talsy with twinkling grey eyes. "How can we help you?"
"Father!" Ranar protested.
His father held up a hand. "Business is business, son."
"I want a good hunting knife," Talsy repeated.
"Certainly." The old man disappeared through the curtains and returned with a shiny, skilfully made hunting knife. He gave it to Talsy, who studied it with delight.
"This is beautiful."
"We take pride in our work."
"How much?"
The old man glanced around. His son had vanished into the furnace room and the guard had his back to them, watching the crowd. He leant closer. "Is he watching?"
"Who? Oh, yes, probably." She had no idea if Chanter was watching, and doubted it, since she was far from the tower, but saw no harm in making him seem more powerful than he was. The man's suggestion made her wonder if Mujar could see around corners and through buildings. She resolved to ask him when she got back to the tower.
The armourer said, "Good. It's yours, miss. I'll take no silver for it. I want him to know that at least one person in this blighted city has some gratitude."
Her spirits lifted, and she smiled. "I'm glad."
He nodded. "He won't care, I know. Mujar live by their own rules, but I think he deserves our gratitude anyway."
"Thank you."
The armourer smiled as she tucked the knife into her belt and headed back to the tower. The old man's kindness filled her with a happy glow that sustained her all the way back, buffering her against the insults of the rest of the populace.
Talsy emerged through the trap door and stopped in surprise, her mouth dropping open. Chanter lay on his back on the pallet, smiling, his hands raised to guide the tiny flames that danced around them. With slow finger movements, he caused the flames to leap and swirl, spin away in little balls of fire and return as sparks. He weaved a pattern in the air, and it joined the fiery ballet. He drew a burning face, and Talsy recognised herself.
"Like it?" he asked.
She smiled. "Playing with fire?"
The Mujar chuckled. "I can."
"You can't get burnt?"
Chanter dispersed the fire with a wave and sat up. "Of course not."
She dumped the bag and joined him on the pallet. "Then how can anything harm you?"
"Only Dolana can. I told you it's an unfriendly Power. Anything made of the earth, like metal, wood or glass can harm me. Fire, water and air cannot."
"You mean, you could walk through that wall of flame out there unscathed?"
"Naturally. It's one of my elements."
She shook her head in confusion. "But they all are. You're made of earth, so how can it harm you when the others can't?"
"Wrong. We're mostly water, not earth. That's why Shissar has the power to heal."
"Yet Dolana rules the creatures of the earth."
"Yes, because we live on the earth. It feeds and clothes us. We are made from it also, just as birds are, yet Ashmar rules them. Almost every living thing contains the four elements, although plants don't have Crayash, and nor do some animals."
She sighed. "I doubt I'll ever fully understand it."
"You don't need to. Did you get all the supplies?"
Talsy pulled a face. "With some difficulty. Were you watching?"
"Watching? How could I? You disappeared amongst the buildings."
"So you can't see through things."
"No." He grinned. "Did you think I could?"
"The armourer did."
"Ah. Trueman superstitions. They also think we can read their minds and give them nightmares."
She took out the knife and showed it to him. "The armourer gave me this. He said he was grateful for your help."
"Ah." The Mujar seemed unimpressed.
"At least there's one good person in this city."
He shrugged. "Good, bad. Who's to judge? Most are simply confused."
Talsy rose to gaze at the fire wall and the Black Riders beyond it. Dusk sent dark fingers across the land as the sinking sun cast shadows from distant mountains. Tomorrow was the last day of Chanter's protection, and the Hashon Jahar showed no signs of moving on. There would be trouble when the time came to remove the fire, if the Black Riders were still there. She wondered what Jashon and Cusak would do to try to prevent the fire wall from falling. Nothing would stop it, she was sure, but she feared that Chanter might fall prey to these hateful men again. His suffering at their hands would be brief, for the Hashon Jahar would soon overrun the city, but they were not friends of Mujar either.
Talsy turned to find Chanter playing with fire again, smiling with childlike delight. She approached him. "Why was there no manifestation of fire to make those flames?"
He glanced up at her. "Because I already control fire."
"What do you mean?"
"When I relinquish control, the fire wall will fall. Until then, I have no need to summon it."
Talsy watched with deep fascination as he played with the fire, a pastime he gave up when the servant arrived with their supper. She marvelled at the simplicity of a man who found food more interesting than the amazing powers he wielded. Then again, he had always had them, so their novelty had undoubtedly worn off long ago. She wondered why he refused to answer some of her questions, while other things he explained without hesitation. Certain subjects, it appeared, were taboo. He was far more reticent and withdrawn in the company of other Truemen, losing the easy-going camaraderie he shared with her when they were alone. She did not blame him for being shy of these people, whose hatred shone in their eyes.
Chanter ate the bowl of beans and meat in a spicy sauce with relish, enjoying the steady thrum of Crayash. The absence of Dolana did not bother him very much, though he missed it, as he always did when he took bird form. He had never had reason to control a Power for so long before, and found it interesting. Just for fun, he snuffed out several street lanterns that a lamp lighter had just lighted on the street below, smiling at the soft curses that arose. As the man returned to relight the lamps, Chanter relighted them for him, and the man muttered afresh.
The next morning, Cusak, Jashon and Tranton arrived with the breakfast tray, which the servant deposited and left. Cusak moved to the railing and stared at the Hashon Jahar.
"When does the fire fall?" he asked.
"At the same time it arose three days ago," Chanter replied.
The governor turned to glare at him. "You don't care that they'll ride in here and annihilate this city."
"No."
Jashon cursed. "You damned scum!"
Talsy said, "If Chanter had not come here, you would all have died three days ago. At least you've had time to prepare yourselves."
Jashon opened his mouth, but Cusak was faster. "Is there no way we can persuade you to hold the wall longer?"
Chanter shook his head. "No."
Cusak glanced at Tranton, who coughed and said, "We have your true name."
"You know it, but I didn't give it to you, so there's no power in it."
Talsy asked, "Why don't you just accept the fact that you're beaten and start praying that the Black Riders leave?"
Cusak ignored her, gazing at the fire wall. Tranton fiddled with his belt and Jashon scowled. Something about their stance aroused her suspicions, and she studied them more closely. Cusak looked a little too calm, Tranton appeared nervous, but Jashon seemed positively smug. She scrutinised him, but, other than his odd attitude, nothing about him struck her as unusual. Turning to Tranton, she eyed the belt with which he fiddled. It was a simple cord of woven hemp, but she had not seen him wearing it before, and it looked a lot newer than the rest of his grubby outfit.
Talsy took Chanter's hand in a casual gesture and led him away from the Truemen. Out of earshot, she whispered, "I'm sure Tranton has gold in his belt. He's going to try to trap you."
The Mujar nodded. "He won't."
Talsy shot him a nervous glance before turning away once more. The Hashon Jahar still remained at rest beyond the flames, and, in the city below, groups of men armed with an assortment of weapons waited. No women or children were about, however. Evidently they had gone to the other side of the river, so the bridges could be burnt to give them time to escape. The battle plan was good, but against the Black Riders it probably stood little hope of saving more than a few.
Time dragged by as the sun crept higher. Only the muttering of the men below and the harsh cawing of crows broke the hush. Cusak stared at the Black Riders; Tranton tied knots in his new belt, then undid them. Jashon stood at the back of the platform, his arms folded.
The tension broke when Cusak straightened with an oath. "They're leaving!"
Talsy turned to stare across the barrier, the heat shimmer making it hard to see. The Hashon Jahar milled around, some still on foot, others mounted. The rest mounted and moved into their former line beyond the fire. Cusak shot the Mujar a dark glance.
"Either that, or they know the fire wall is about to fall."
Chanter ignored him and watched the Riders. Their line formed, they headed upriver, parallel to the fire wall. The leaders followed the fire around towards the river, and Talsy wondered if they were going to try to cross it. Then the column turned to follow the river upstream, and she let out her pent breath in a great sigh. Cusak banged his fists on the railing.
"They are leaving!"
On the city wall, lookouts shouted, and the men in the streets cheered. Jashon joined the governor to watch avidly as the column of Hashon Jahar gathered speed, the horses breaking into a gallop that carried them swiftly away. The faint jingle of armour mingled with the drumming of hooves, and the head of the column was already lost in dust. The end of the column still passed the fire wall, row upon row of them, four abreast.
Chanter said, "Wish fulfilled."
"No!" Cusak shouted, but, even as he did, the flames winked out, causing a vacuum that filled with a thump of air, raising a cloud of dust.
"You bastard!" Jashon lunged at Chanter, and Cusak leapt at the same time, colliding with him. The two reeled apart, clutched bruised shoulders and glared at each other. Talsy pulled out her hunting knife and stepped back, bumping into Chanter. He gripped her shoulders to steady her, and a sheet of flame shot up between them and the Truemen. Cusak and Jashon stumbled back, raising their arms to protect their faces. When they had retreated far enough, Chanter let the flames dwindle to waist height.
"You have nothing to fear," he told them. "They won't return."
"How the hell do you know that?" Jashon snarled.
"See for yourselves."
The Truemen turned to look at the column of Black Riders, whose speed and direction remained the same. The last of them galloped past the unprotected city as if it did not exist.
"They may still turn around," Cusak pointed out.
Chanter shook his head. "No."
The governor scowled at Chanter's lack of explanation, but the reason dawned on Talsy. "They won't, because they don't know that the fire wall won't be raised against them again. All they know is that a Mujar protects this city, and it's therefore impregnable. Right?" She glanced at Chanter.
He smiled. "Yes."
Cusak gave a sour grunt, and Jashon muttered to Tranton, who fingered his belt. In the city, the silence that had fallen when the fire wall winked out now filled with muted cheering and shouting. The Black Riders continued to gallop away, dwindling into the distance upriver.
Chanter patted her shoulder. "Time to leave."
Talsy nodded, wondering how they were going to get past the three hateful men who blocked their way. A rush of wind ruffled her hair, and the air filled with the sound of beating wings. A raven winged away into the blue sky, and the sheet of fire died. Jashon stepped forward, leering.
"Left you in the lurch, didn't he, Mujar whore?"
"No, he's watching, but, unlike him, I have no compunction about killing." She brandished the knife.
Jashon started towards her, but Tranton grabbed him. "Leave her, she's not worth it. We've lost him, but at least the city's safe."
"Mujar bitch!" Jashon raged. "Filthy yellow scum lover! You should go in the Pit too!"
Talsy, filled with sudden courage and deep wish to hurt the man who had tortured Chanter, beckoned to him. "Come on then, try it! Ingrate! Torturer! Stinking Trueman savage!"
Clearly incensed, Jashon shook Tranton off and charged. Talsy jumped aside and slashed with her knife. A line of blood appeared down Jashon's arm, and he howled with rage. She ducked under his swinging fist and slashed again, opening a wound across his belly. Jashon roared and lunged, but missed once more as Talsy spun away in time. As he ran past, she stuck out her foot, sending him sprawling. He leapt up, red faced, and threw himself at her. Talsy flung herself aside, and Jashon hit the railing. The old wood cracked under the impact and gave way. With a wailing scream, Jashon plunged over the edge.
Talsy panted, staring at the gap in the railings. Tranton made an inarticulate sound and went to peer over the edge, his face ashen. He turned to her with glinting eyes.
"Murderess!"
She shook her head. "It was a fair fight. He got careless. I never meant to kill him."
"You drove him to it! You goaded him!"
"He started it."
Tranton turned to Cusak. "Call the guard! Arrest her! She must hang for this!"
The governor eyed Talsy. "We can't."
"Why not?"
Cusak pointed upwards. "He's watching, and she's his clan."
Tranton spat vile curses. "He's left her! He didn't protect her from Jashon."
"There was no need," Talsy pointed out.
Tranton glared at her, his thin, wrinkled face twisted with grief and hate. "Jashon was right, you should go to the Pit."
Cusak went to the trap door. "We can't punish her, but I'd like to see her get out of this city in one piece. She won't get any protection from my soldiers."
Talsy raised her chin. "A far greater man than you protects me."
Tranton spat on the floor. "He's not a man, you stupid whore. Haven't you figured that out yet?"
"He's a better man than you've ever been, or any Trueman in this city. He's got more decency in his little finger than the lot of you put together."
Cusak snorted. "Tranton, let's go. You have a funeral to arrange."
Tranton turned away with a growl, and she called after them, "Thanks to a Mujar, the rest of you will live!"
As they vanished down the stairs with a parting glare, Talsy slumped against a wooden upright, her knees weak. Jashon's death shocked and sickened her. She had only meant to cut him a little, to let him feel some of the pain he had inflicted on Chanter. She forced herself to move, the urgency of quitting this terrible city before word of the tragedy spread and mobs of angry people laid siege to the tower goading her. Sheathing the knife, she shouldered the bag and headed for the stairs.
In the street, the men who had gathered to defend the wall sat drinking and talking. A crowd surrounded Jashon's crumpled body, and Tranton's voice rose in shrill outrage from its midst. She slipped from the tower and hurried away in the direction of the river. The deserted streets allowed her to reach the bridge unhampered. No guards demanded toll, and she trotted across the stout structure.
On the far side, the city's population packed the streets, forcing her to push her way through. She kept her head down, but the fear of being recognised drove her to buy a hooded cloak from a street vendor. Thus disguised, she pushed on. The main thoroughfare went straight through the city, a wide dirty road at the end of which the far gates were visible over the heads of the masses. She was almost halfway there when someone shouted, "Hey! It's the Mujar whore!"
People recoiled from her, leaving her in a pocket of emptiness. Shouted insults flew thick and fast.
"Look at her, running like a whipped dog!"
"Scum lover!"
"Where's your Mujar now, bitch?"
"What's it like to lie with an animal?"
"Run, filthy slut!"
Talsy kept her pace to a fast walk, refusing to give them the satisfaction of chasing her. Rotten fruit, vegetables, eggs and stones flew at her. Most missed, but a few scored hits, and the stones stung. The crowd followed, keeping up a flow of vitriol that soon lost its originality. A rotten tomato hit her on the cheek, and the mob grew bolder. The city gates beckoned, two grinning soldiers waiting at them.
A particularly large rock, hurled with some accuracy at her head, exploded in mid-air. Talsy looked around, startled by the bang and the rain of hot sand that hit her. The crowd hesitated, many looking up. High above, a big bird hung like a cross in the sky. For a minute the missiles and the shouts stopped, then the Mujar's intervention seemed to enrage the mob beyond control, and with a roar it charged her. Talsy broke into a run for a few steps, but hundreds of angry, stick-waving people blocked her way. She stopped, a frisson of fear running through her.
A circle of blue fire exploded into being around her with a great thump. The crowd's forerunners, pushed by those behind, stumbled into it and recoiled with screams of pain. The throng surged back, roaring its hatred like a giant, many-headed beast. Talsy walked on, the circle of fire staying with her in a hissing wall that scorched the earth and left it blackened. People scrambled out of her way, clearing a path to the gates. Missiles still flew, but most did not make it through the fire's heat. Another large and well-aimed rock exploded beside her. Several archers with longbows shot at the big bird high above, but their arrows burst into flames before they reached the Mujar.
The soldiers at the gates pulled them open when she reached them, for they, like her, clearly had no doubt that the fire would burn a path through them if necessary. A final barrage of insults followed her out of the city, then the gates slammed shut behind her, cutting off the virulence of the city's inhabitants. The ring of fire winked out, and Talsy breathed a deep sigh of fresh, chill air as she hastened away, glad to be back in the open. She made herself a silent promise never to reveal her Mujar companion in a city again. Yet, for good or ill, he had saved those people, fanning their resentment to new heights.
Two miles up the road, an eagle glided down to land on the road before her. A rush of wind and the sound of beating wings accompanied his change, and Chanter stood before her. Her misery overwhelmed her, and she dropped her bag to run into his arms. Chanter held her, patting her back in his awkward manner.
"Hush, it's over now."
Talsy sobbed into his chest. "I hate them! They're loathsome! The Hashon Jahar should have wiped them out!"
"Don't think such terrible things," he remonstrated. "They're just -"
Talsy jerked away. "If you tell me they're just ignorant or confused, I'll kick you!" She wiped her eyes. "They're filled with hate! They're cruel, nasty bastards, the lot of them. Now I know why you won't help them. They don't deserve it."
He patted her shoulder. "Come, let's find a stream for you to wash in."
"I killed Jashon," she blurted.
"I know."
"You're not angry?"
"Why should I be?" He picked up the bag. "You're free to do as you wish. The choice was yours, although it was an accident."
Talsy fell into step beside him. "I wanted to hurt him for what he did to you."
"There was no need. Revenge has no purpose."
"It would have made me feel better, but he fell."
"So now you feel worse."
Talsy nodded. Chanter walked on, and in a way she was glad of his indifference. They left the city's cultivated lands and entered the woods beyond, where they camped beside a stream. Chanter persuaded her to bathe in the icy water, joining her to wash away the last traces of dried blood. That night, after dining on bread and cheese, Chanter lay with her to warm her before leaving her for the night's wildness.