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the pounding rain. He howled into the heavens.
Karn meanwhile said simply, "Let us go, Gerrard.
Weatherlight awaits me, and the Bones of Ramos await you."
* * * * *
From the Magistrate's Tower, Volrath watched the storm.
His fingers dug into the stone windowsill where he stood. It
was one of the subtler powers of a shapechanger, to make his
flesh as thin and sharp and strong as razors, to insinuate his
being into whatever fault might present itself and swell in
those cracks to split them wider. Solid stones became sifting
sand in his grip. His flesh could flow, and freeze, and
destroy like water. It was how he ruled the rock of Mercadia.
His grip had split the mountain to its core.
These rebels, though, were not rock. Ramosan, Cho-Arrim,
Saprazzan, Rishadan-they were all folk with affinity for
water. They brought this storm down upon Mercadia. They would
grip it in a fist larger and more powerful than Volrath's.
They would break the rock of Mercadia to shifting sand.
Why, though, did they bring this storm now? What did they
seek?
Volrath saw. Through the shredding curtains of rain, he
saw. Dark figures descended amid those cascades. They were
human, though they had billowing cloaks above them that seemed
the wings of bats. On the warm currents of the storm they
rode, dropping where they would, where they could-rooftops,
streets, gardens, awnings. Like the water that had borne them
hence, they went to ground. Following channels invisible to
the eye, they gathered and went below. One by one, each of the
invaders escaped into gutters and rebel safe houses.
"Not safe for long," Volrath muttered to himself, flinging
limestone sand out into the night. He would send a regiment of
the guard around next morning on a house-to-house search.
Invaders and anyone harboring them would be summarily
executed, their property seized by the state. Whatever
uprising they planned would be put down before it could even
occur.
"I shall defend my interests viciously."
Something else moved in the stormy night. Another group of
rebels streamed down a stairway and into the winding streets.
Gerrard and his crew.
Volrath watched angrily. He had planned just such an
escape- Takara had planned it to send Gerrard after the
crystals he needed to repair Weatherlight Now, the ingrates
were escaping on their own. Their plans were already
discussed, and Takara had neither been consulted nor thanked.
It mattered little.
Gerrard was doing just what Volrath had planned. Gerrard
had always been his own worst enemy. His betrayals and his
blunders led inevitably to ruin.
Smiling, Volrath released the crushed windowsill. He
turned and took a step. In midstride, he transformed into a
lithe, fire-haired woman.
"Gerrard will lead me straight to the crystals I need, and
I will destroy him in the process."
* * * * *
Squee led his companions on a ridiculously jogging path.
The pounding rain and lightning flashes made Mercadia's mad
maze only madder still. Hanna, whose direction sense was the
best of anyone's, was hopelessly confused. Squee insisted he
knew where he was going, and his errant rout proved very
quick. The company traversed the two-and-a-half miles from the
Magistrate's Tower to the outer rim of the city in only half
an hour.
"Dis here street is Dat-Dere-Street," Squee announced
proudly.
Gerrard and his comrades arrived at the dumping station
where Squee and Atalla had fooled the giants. In the pelting
storm, there were no giants or wagons, only the yawning
blackness of a nearly two-mile drop to the storm-lit plains
below.
Reunited again for the rescue, the company would soon be
sundered. Hanna, Squee, and Karn would remain behind to search
for Weatherlight. Orim, Cho-Manno, and Lahaime would
rendezvous with the Ramosans and begin to foment rebellion
against the ruling Mercadians and their Kyren. Meanwhile,
Gerrard, Sisay, Tahngarth, and five other crew members would
take the maps and lore provided by Cho-Manno and set out in
search of Ouramos, where lay the Bones of Ramos.
Parting was no easy thing, especially for the commander
and the navigator.
"Listen," Hanna said, staring into Gerrard's eyes. "Don't
just bring back Ramos's bones. Bring back your own, as well.
And all in one piece."
His smile glinted with lightning. He stroked a sodden lock
of hair back from her face. "Don't I always?" Glancing over
the precipice, he said, "If I survive the next few minutes, I
can survive anything." He lifted his arms. The cape of a Cho-
Arrim skyscout draped, dripping, from wrists to ankles. "Orim,
are you sure these things are safe?"
"Safe enough," Orim replied, sheltered in Cho-Manno's
arms. "Just glide like a flying squirrel and let the Cho-Arrim
wizards do the rest. Don't try anything fancy."
Gerrard gave a flap of the wings. "I'm not sure I'll even
breathe on the way down."
Tahngarth stood nearby, snorting white plumes of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]