City of Demons (15 page)

The Banemaster continued, “After the demons appeared in the South, those who survived gathered in large groups, protected by the first Banes and ruled by the surviving Lords. Some Lords would not submit to the common good and tried to live without change in their fortresses. When they could not convince the Terrich Lords to help the new cities under the shield of the Overking, the Banes abandoned them to their fate. Without the Banes, demons hunted the Terrich Lords through their own streets like rabbits.” His dry voice, so at odds with the terror he described, held them motionless. “The few peasants and townspeople who survived fled that madness and came for help to Shirath. In those chaotic times, it was a month before a force of Banes, drawn from each city, could ride out to search the town. What they found is written of in the records of the Shirath Banehall. There was no one left to save. The demons had done their work. The town was burned and the walls toppled to keep other fools from using it as a false sanctuary.”

The young Banes blanched at the thought of a city's population killed in such a horrible fashion. Garet blurted out, “How many demons did the Banes have to kill?”

Mandarack replied, “There is no mention of that in the records. Perhaps when the Banes arrived in force the last demon had left to hunt for new prey.”

“But Master,” Garet objected, “to kill a town full of people, there must have been many demons. Did they all attack the other cities?” he asked, unaware of Salick's glare and the younger Banes' look of incomprehension. Even Mandarack seemed to wonder at the question.

“I am not sure of your meaning, Garet.”

“Well, it's said in the North a dragon in its rage will not stop attacking a village until all are dead, and then it moves on to a new village. That is why they must be killed. Don't demons continue to attack until they are killed?”

The old Bane seemed troubled by the question, and Salick hissed at Garet, a look of fury on her face.

“Forgive me, Master.” Garet hastily added, “It's a foolish question. I am ignorant of these things and will study more.” He crouched against the wall and wrapped his legs with his arms, wishing he could disappear.

Mandarack held up his hand to stop Salick's intimidation. “No Garet, it is a very interesting question indeed. But I'm afraid that I have no answer for you.” A trace of a smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “I too am ignorant of these things and must study more.”

Salick stared at her Master, open-mouthed, and then quickly busied herself packing up their cooking things. Marick winked at Garet conspiratorially while Dorict shook his head and went to help Salick. Mandarack walked thoughtfully to the river and regarded the water. Garet followed Marick to see to the horses.

“Garet!” Salick's strong hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around. Her eyes were bright with fury and she fairly spat out her words. “Why do you ask questions that no one can answer, not even...” Her lips compressed, and Garet knew that her anger was born of her concern for her master's honour and reputation. She could not bear to see her master bested by any situation. “What is the use of such questions?” she demanded.

Now used to Salick's moods, Garet gathered his courage to answer her back. “I ask such questions because I have to know, Salick. You Southerners are all practically born with this knowledge. You learn it from your parents the way I learned about dragons and farming and tracking rabbits. If I ask questions which cannot be answered,” his voice rose in frustration, “it's only because I'm ignorant of what I must know!” He shook off her hand and stomped to the cart to take his place on the floorboards. He avoided Salick's eyes as she helped Mandarack mount and then silently took her place on the driver's bench with Marick. The young Bane wisely restrained from commenting on the air of obvious ill-feelings.

The long afternoon of writing and reading, swaying back and forth in the back of the cart, worked the irritation out of his mood. By the time they stopped, he had wheedled out full descriptions of seven demons from the confusing pages of the text. The concentration he had spent on the text had also lessened his frustration with Salick. Mandarack had looked over his shoulder once or twice but had made no comment. Dorict, bored with the long ride, had asked Garet for the finished pages. He read them through in his slow, careful way and nodded at him.

“I wish I had had this when I was a Black Sash. The tests would have been much easier.” He handed back the pages. “You know, when you get through this, I could give you a few Blue texts to rewrite.”

Marick rolled his eyes. “Dorict, why don't you do it yourself? I swear you'd starve if your hunger wasn't just slightly greater than your laziness!” The small Bane grinned at Garet. “Maybe we should call this the Garet Demonary from now on.”

Garet's protest came a split second before Salick's outraged gasp. He quickly denied the compliment. “Marick, I didn't write any of this, I just organized it so that it was easier to read. I got the idea from the songs my mother used to sing to me.”

Salick had rounded on Marick and Dorict. “Don't you two fill his head with praise! Garet is still just a Black Sash; he has the same duties, responsibilities,” her tone turned acid, “and limitations of any beginner in the Hall.”

The way she had stressed the words limitations and beginner, told Garet that Salick had not forgotten their argument. He crouched down over the papers, and tried to block out her anger by concentrating on some cryptic comments about a demon called a Scraper.

Despite his concentration, he could not avoid hearing Marick's return jibe: “If we all stuck to our limitations, Salick, Dorict and I would be back in Shirath practicing beginning weapons, and you would be holding the reins for some Gold while older Banes got all the fun. You hate limitations as much as I do!”

Because she made no response, Garet did not know whether Salick agreed or disagreed.

He was glad when, in the early evening, the cart shuddered to a halt. The road had moved away from the water for most of the afternoon. It had cut straight across a bulge of land that squeezed the river into a bow-curve of white, foaming rapids. Now the road and river met again: the road giving up straight lines for gentle curves and the river leaving this first set of rapids for a calmer, more stately flow.

The sun was still high in the sky, so Garet was surprised when Salick unhitched the horses and the two younger Banes started unloading their blanket rolls and cooking gear.

“Marick, aren't we going on 'til dark?” he asked.

“What's this?” cried Marick in mock indignation. “A mere Black Sash asking questions? Learn your place, underling!” Further comment was forestalled by Dorict's hand giving the little Bane a sharp push between the shoulders.

“There's no better place to stop along this stretch,” Dorict told him. “We'll stay at the old temple tonight.” He shouldered a load of pots and food. “Too bad we can't take the cart any closer.” He puffed as he clambered over a curb of stones on the north side of the road and pushed his way through a bramble of low bushes.

Garet picked up the remaining stores and followed him through the waist-high brush. A screen of encroaching brambles had long ago reduced a lane of paved stones to a tumbled miniature of the rapids they had just passed. He heard Dorict ahead of him cursing softly as he maneuvered around flipped cobbles and out-thrust roots. Now the brambles were replaced by a grove of hoary old oak trees that made a green tunnel over the path. Any flat area was thick with rotted acorns and dry leaves.

Suddenly, the grove ended. In front of them a moat was crossed by a graceful arch of stone that sprang out from beneath the shadow of the oaks. The water circled the green mound of an island. Mandarack and Salick, leading the horses, were already on the island, and the three others hurried to join them.

The island was as round as a cart wheel and rose gently to form a low hill. The grass was still green and lower than in the lands they had passed through, but the honking of the geese swimming in the moat told Garet what had been cropping it short. On the crest of the hill stood an astonishing structure, a square building fashioned of many white pillars instead of walls. Its domed roof was a startling shade of blue, a shade that seemed to have captured the colour of the twilight sky a minute before it turns to black. The beauty of that solitary, elegant building caught in Garet's throat for a moment, and he could only stare at it, his shoulders draped with bags and bundles.

Responding to Marick's impatient call, he shifted his load and walked up the hill to a small, paved plaza in front of the building. As he neared the top, the ruins of a crumbled wall appeared to the north over the ring of trees. The remains of many campfires showed that this was a favourite stop for travellers. Garet saw that none of the fire-rings were made of the white and blue stones of the structure. Instead, someone had carried stones from the road to line the blackened circles. He understood their labour. No one who saw this temple, for it could be nothing else, would want to tear it apart. He saw that Mandarack and Salick were already inside, and the other two Banes were sitting on the top of the low steps, wrestling with their boots. He sat beside them, feeling foolish, and took off his own. Barefoot, he stood up. Dorict smiled at his confusion and led him between the pillars and beneath the dome.

The white stones of the floor were smooth and cold on his feet. The marble had been polished to reflect the sunlight up onto the curved ceiling. Garet gasped as he looked above his head. The ceiling was covered with patterns of bright crystals. At first it was too overwhelming to make sense of, but soon he caught one familiar shape, and then another. These were the stars! Sure now, he looked for the Southern Swan and the Winter River, but could not find them. This was a high-summer sky. The Ploughman chased his running Ox, and the Dragon circled the North Star. If he wanted confirmation, he could look outside in a few hours and see them in the real sky.

“Have you been in a Temple before, Garet?” Mandarack asked him.

Caught slack-jawed and staring, Garet had to tear his eyes from the beautiful ceiling to answer him. “No, Master, I have never been in a place like this. At Three Roads they had a tent with a blue roof for the festivals, but this...” his voice trailed off as he turned slowly, looking back up at the dark, deep blue of the re-created sky.

Mandarack looked up as well. “Heaven is always above us, Garet. It guides us, comforts us, and gives us its beauty.” With his shadow of a smile, he looked down at Garet's bare feet and said, “That is why we stand this way, our feet touching the earth as we look up to the beauty above us. They seem so separate, but it is we who join the two by being of the Earth but yearning for the Sky.”

Garet turned and turned to view every constellation. Mandarack's words, the soft sound of his feet, his very breath echoed down from the dome. He felt dizzy and overwhelmed by a sense of awe that he had never felt before.

“Does Heaven judge us?” he asked in a low voice. Garet had known men at Three Roads, drinking companions of his father, who would curse their luck at dice and then, glancing up at the smoke-stained tavern roof, softly call on Heaven to forgive their sins.

“Yes,” Salick answered from the shadows. She was standing between the pillars, hand resting lightly on one fluted surface.

“Many believe so,” Mandarack said, “but, Garet, we are all judged by what we bring to our lives: courage or cowardice, intelligence or stupidity, kindness or cruelty. In the end, we are known, and judged by what we do.” He raised his good hand to the dome and then slowly knelt to touch the floor. “And Heaven always sends us opportunities to show others our true selves.” He glanced over at Salick and stiffened, then quickly rose to his feet. She was staring in horror at her hand, for the shadowed pillar had been painted with blood.

Dorict and Marick came at Garet's call. Mandarack was examining the blood on the pillar.

“It's very fresh,” he said. The Banemaster scanned the surrounding trees. “Get your weapons. We'll scout the area.”

The party quickly put on their boots and armed themselves. Salick pressed the hatchet into Garet's hands. “Unless you'd prefer a stone,” she said sarcastically, but Garet could see how shaken she was. Although he knew little of the faith of the South, he could imagine how wrong it must feel to find proof of violence on holy ground.

Mandarack split them into two groups. He would take the two Blues and the horses back to the cart and scout along the road. Salick and Garet were to circle the ring of oaks and meet the others at the cart. The old Bane settled the shield on his good arm and led them back through the trees. Dorict and Marick pulled at the horses' reins, keeping as close as possible to the others.

After they separated, Salick was as silent as the trees, moving slowly along the outside of the grove, her head constantly swivelling and her trident held ready. The brambles caught at their tunics, and they froze at each twig's snap when they pulled their clothes free. The hatchet felt awkward and useless in his hand. He trembled a bit with anticipation, yet there was none of the dread that Garet had experienced in previous encounters with demons, and he was not surprised when they circled the woods without encountering anything. Remembering the odd behaviour of the birds at the ruined farmstead, he paused for a moment and listened. Salick tugged at his sleeve, but he stayed motionless. There were birds moving on the forest floor and in the trees. Now and then a tentative trill sang out over their heads. Salick, at last understanding why he had stopped, listened as well. She shrugged her shoulders and motioned to him to finish their patrol and return to the road. The others were waiting by the cart.