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  But she had to trust the lizard folk. Closing her eyes and forming a thought, she asked a single question of Ziore. The nun responded.

  'I cannot read this being. His motives are hidden behind a veil of blackness.

  The princess had to make the decision on her own; even knowing that decision would affect the entire continent – the world! – she had to make it. 'We will,' she whispered.

  A soundless shout of exultation rang through Thendrun. Moriana started, looked around. Khirshagk showed no emotion. Darl sat holding his wine goblet negligently in one hand. He had obviously heard nothing. It had been her imagination and nothing more.

  'Then let the bargain be sealed.' Khirshagk rose and offered his hand. It bore a ring on the index finger, a dark emerald set in graven obsidian. The gem was worked in likeness of something only barely discernible, a face or a mask. Moriana made herself take his hand with no display of the reluctance she felt.

  He lifted her hand, kissed it. His lips were dry but surprisingly soft. He then turned and offered his taloned hand to Darl, who got to his feet and gripped forearms heartily with the Instrumentality. Moriana gulped her wine. The imprint of Khirshagk's kiss burned on the back of her right hand.

  They passed the evening in inconsequential talk. Khirshagk spoke with animation and wit, and displayed a surprising knowledge of the affairs of the outside world. Moriana guessed that the Hissers had some intercourse with true men (this made her feel better somehow), though the latter took pains to keep this a secret.

  Professing a love for human music, the Instrumentality prevailed on Darl to sing, which the Count-Duke then did in a lovely mellow baritone. It was the lay of a rootless wanderer who beholds a wondrous lady and consecrates his life to her. He cannot possess her, for she is pledged to another. In the end he gives his life for her and dies with a smile on his lips. It was a common enough theme, but phrased with a bittersweet poignancy that brought tears to her eyes. Her reaction was odd in its way; the princess had no ear for music and cared little for it as a rule.

  'Your own composition, I believe,' said Khirshagk when the song was done. Blushing slightly, Darl nodded.

  Moriana bit her lip. At once she understood. He had written the song for her. Darl confirmed it by avoiding her eyes.

  'Well,' Darl said, rising and stifling a yawn with the back of his fist. 'I'm worn down with travelling, I don't mind admitting. I think I'll retire. Your Highness?'

  'I'll wait a while,' said Moriana before she could stop herself. She wondered why she'd said that. It wasn't just pique at him for performing such a song in front of the lizard man. Her motives went deeper – and Moriana didn't wish to examine them too closely.

  He looked at her for a long moment. Then with a wan smile, he nodded.

  'I wish you a good rest, my Lady. Your, uh, Instrumentality, I thank you for your gracious hosting.'

  'You've more than repaid me with your song, Lord Darl.' He hissed flat syllables to a Zr'gsz female, who wordlessly lifted a torch from its bracket. 'Rissuu will show you to your quarters.' The tall man bowed and departed.

  Moriana lay back. Her lips were dry, but she had no desire for the wine. Nervously the princess ran her hand along the black and silver fur beneath her.

  'It's the hide of the greater weasel of Nevrym,' said Khirshagk. 'A cunning, deadly beast. We trade for them with the foresters.'

  Moriana nodded. The men of the Great Nevrym were known to be reckless, enamored of danger. Of all the folk of the Realm it was easiest for her to imagine the Nevrym foresters trading with the shunned and dreaded Hissers, not through any love of them or for the Dark, but because of the essential lawlessness of their natures. It occurred to her that most of the footmen who remained with her were Nevrym men. She had thought it because of the toughness of the breed. Perhaps it was also because the keep of the Fallen Ones was not such a mystery to them.

  Khirshagk walked to the wall as gracefully as a hunting beast. He reached a hand to the single torch burning beside the curtained doorway and snuffed it as a human might snuff a candle flame between thumb and forefinger. Moriana winced in sympathy, but he displayed no sign of pain.

  'What you are about to see,' he said quietly, 'has been seen before by only one of your kind. And she was of your kind indeed.'

  Hsst! went another torch. The room descended another step toward utter darkness.

  'She?' asked Moriana. The word came out huskier than she intended. She watched him move. In motion, Khirshagk had the stop-and-go rhythm of a lizard, she noted. It was exotic and not at all repellent to her. Deliberately, he doused the remaining torches in the same way. She gave a little gasp as the jaws of blackness closed. 'Wait,' he bade her. She waited. Gradually, she became aware that the chamber did not lie in total night. As her pupils expanded she began to discern the details of the room's spare furnishings once more, this time illuminated by a suffused green glow that seemed to come from all around.

  'Thirty thousand years ago my folk came to this continent. Of all the vastness of this land you call the Sundered Realm, this was the place they chose as their first home. And they grew themselves a keep, nurturing crystals by arcane means until they formed the vast blocks and protrusions that are the Thendrun you see all about you. Crystals of emerald, Princess, such as the giant single crystal that is your Beryl Throne.' She saw the white gleam of his smile. 'You can see why we don't value what the Pale Ones call riches.' A suspicion formed in her mind. 'And the City in the Sky…?'

  'You are perceptive. It is no more than to be expected.' Before she questioned the cryptic remark, he went on. 'Yes, we grew the Sky City in much the same way from a bed of skystone. It's of a different substance, of course. It grew vertically in spire and towers instead of the angular shapes of our keep. And you're aware that it's not made of emerald. Nor does it glow with its own light, as do the walls of our dwellings.'

  'It's beautiful,' she said. It was the literal truth, but it was a soul-disturbing beauty, a beauty redolent of the Dark Ones.

  He came toward her. She stood, arms limp at her sides. Moriana forced her mind into the calm necessary to form the thought to the nun: Ziore, what does he intend? You need me to tell you that?

  Khirshagk put out his hand till his forefinger touched the untied lacings of her tunic. Her breath came shallow and rapid as the finger pulled down, drawing forth the leather thong. His claws touched the place where the garment came together below her breasts, and continued downward. The leather parted as if he used a knife.

  'You are not the first Moriana to visit Thendrun,' he said in a rich, low voice. 'Nor the first Etuul.' She blinked.

  'A Moriana Etuul aided shai-Gallri, it's true,' she said. Her voice was almost as breathy as a Zr'gsz's now. 'I am descended from her. I'm the first of my clan to bear the name Moriana since…'

  Her words trailed away as he lifted his finger to her breast. The finger stroked. Moriana stiffened, remembering the black talon had sliced her tunic. But the touch on her nipple was gentle. She shuddered with surprised pleasure as the nipple grew erect.

  'Since that Moriana came to Thendrun to gain the secret of true magic,' he said. He took his hand from her breast, dropped it. Her swordbelt fell to the furs with a muffled clatter. A moment later her breeches joined it, pared from her like the peel from a fruit. The razor claw didn't so much as touch the skin beneath.

  She started to reach for Khirshagk. She had early guessed how the evening would end and had been steeling herself for it. Now there was no need for her fortitude. She had not lain with Darl since before Chanobit. Desire was a keen edge in her loins. Khirshagk stepped back.

  'In those days the Pale Ones had little magic besides that of Athalau, which is no real magic at all, merely the exercise of mental powers.'

  'And what is true magic?' She felt the coldness of the Amulet between her breasts but did not look down. A cool breeze fondled her nakedness. His hands went to his robe.

  'Power. The ability to manipulate the beings of this world and
the Dark beyond. That gift was given to the People alone. The earlier Moriana came to purchase that gift, and so she did.' 'And how did she pay for it?' Moriana almost whispered. He laughed. 'She found the paying no ordeal,' he said, and parted his robe.

  Moriana stared. Not one but two great penises jutted from his groin, one above the other, each one swollen-headed and wrapped with veins like a vine-wrapped column.

  'We are similar, your kindred and mine,' said Khirshagk. 'But my folk are the greater breed.'

  She sank to the furs and lay back. Her eyes were wide with expectation. His double erection was impressive, but she was not altogether certain what he intended to do with it.

  He knelt between her thighs, took a member in either hand and pushed forward with his hips. Moriana lifted her hips to meet him. 'That way,' she groaned. 'But I've never done that before…'

  In a moment, pain and pleasure mingled and overlaid one another. He lowered himself until he loomed over her like an idol supporting himself on muscular arms. Even in the wan emerald light his eyes shone like windows into blackness. He began to move to and fro, slowly. The skin of his members had the slightest roughness. The friction thrilled her almost beyond toleration.

  Light began dancing before her eyes. Breath came short. Hot and cold chased tails through her body, touched her with fire, with ice, and the pleasure moved within her, possessing her utterly.

  When the icy explosion came within her, she screamed with the fury of her own release.

  She drifted from consciousness, floating timeless in darkness and satiety. At length her eyes focused again. Khirshagk still hung over her, and she felt the twinned rhythm of his heart yet within her. She didn't know how long she lay in her daze. She sensed he could have kept that position for hours, days – and more.

  He slipped from her. Even the withdrawal gave intense delight. She gritted her teeth as climax seized her lithe body again. Winded, she lay back looking up as he put on his robe. For some reason the black against black figures were clearer to her now. They seemed to move with a life of their own. Or was that only a trick of the emerald witchlight?

  'That first Moriana,' she asked. 'How long did it take her to gain the true magic?' He looked down at her, his expression totally unreadable.

  'She never gained it at all,' he said, leaving the chamber with noiseless tread.

  Moriana stared up at the ceiling. It was concave and faceted like a gem. It focused her mental energies and flooded her with both vitality and unease. She blinked several times and looked away from the disquieting ceiling. 'Ziore?' she asked softly. 'What do you make of it?'

  'I know not what.' The voice came from somewhere amid the furs strewn in the pit.

  Moriana put her hand to the Amulet, clenching it hard. She couldn't make herself look to see whether the stone shone white – or black.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On that day appointed for battle by forces none living could comprehend, it seemed as if Nature herself rejoiced at the prospect for slaughter. When dawn poured itself over the horizon like soured milk, the Sky City floated some ten miles west of Kara-Est, where it was spotted by pickets posted in gondolas held aloft by ludintip, huge airborne jellyfish-like creatures. As they reported, the City showed no sign of warlike intent. No war birds circled its tall towers or winged in arrowhead formation to meet the aerial guardians of the seaport. To the immense disgust of Parel Tonsho, and Hausan and Suema, Senior General and Sky Marshal of Kara-Est respectively, a number of Deputies immediately expressed relief and demanded that their city's military alert be called off. The alert remained in force.

  At ten in the morning, aerial reconnaissance reported ground troops massing on the plain west of the Hills of Cholon. Smiling grimly – largely for the benefit of the court sculptor come to immortalize what the general was sure would be an epic victory with a heroic bust in marble – General Hausan ordered two thousand cavalry and three thousand foot soldiers, including almost a thousand archers, to come forth from the Landgate to meet the foe. Sweating, itching and weak-kneed within her ornamental armor, Tonsho watched the couriers ride out from the Hall of Deputies with considerable misgiving. At her side her covey of youths strutted and made muscles, bragging about how they would deal with the enemy.

  Tonsho knew victory would not be so easy. Battle never was, especially battle against the fearsome Sky City. She silenced her chirping boys with an impatient wave of her hand. On this of all days she didn't want their arrogant prattle distracting her from the serious business of worrying, something no one else in Kara-Est appeared capable of doing.

  Standing on the skywall beside the huge mandibular jut of the City's forward dock, Rann and Synalon watched the tidal race of armies in collision. Synalon held a heavy white robe closely about her against the wind. Her hair blew like black stormwrack around her pale face. Rann wore the black and purple of the City with the gold brassard on his left arm identifying him as one of the elite Guard. He needed no badge of rank; the blazing crimson crest on the head of the black war eagle was device enough.

  'We shall be victorious, cousin,' said Synalon smugly.'I feel it. I know it!'

  Rann glanced sidelong at his queen. 'Is this assured by the Dark Ones?' he asked in a monotone.

  'The Dark Ones?' answered Synalon, wildly, almost insanely. 'I assure this day's victory, cousin dear. I am the one with the power. I will crush those crawling insects, those larvae, those pathetic creatures daring to oppose my will!'

  Rann said nothing of his own preparations, of the army, the eagle riders and the part they would play, the magics performed by scores of mages in the City. For all he knew, Synalon might be correct. This day might belong to her and her alone. Shaking his head at the prospect, he turned attention back to the slow jigsaw merging of armies below.

  Ghostly with distance, the sounds drifted to their ears: barking, shouting, trumpets ringing, the beat of drums. The white and azure banners of Kara-Est snapped above orderly rectilinear arrays, heavy spearmen massed in the center with archers on the wings and squadrons of cavalry on the outermost flank. Against them the Sky City ground troops, twenty-two hundred dog riders from the City and her subjugated 'ally' Bilsinx. The attacking force travelled in a shapeless, fluid formation that the regimented commanders of the Estil army thought disorganized.

  In advance swarmed the Bilsinxt light cavalry hurling darts and arrows to disorder the close-packed ranks of the Estil. The heavier City riders couched lances and charged through, the skirmishers parting easily to either side like a bow wave from a war galley's prow. The lines met, purple and black against blue and silver. Several seconds later the observers in the City heard the dull hammerblow followed by a many-throated shout as the hours and weeks of waiting were consummated in steel and blood and death.

  Rann smiled grimly. His nostrils flared and he imagined the coppery smell of blood. Beside him Synalon stood as pale and stiff as a marble statue, her thoughts alien.

  Inexorably, the City floated east. The striving mass of men and beasts passed beneath. Though outnumbered and less massively armored than their foe, the Sky City forces held their army in savage deadlock. The Bilsinxt streamed past the enemy's flanks like quicksilver, driving arrows into the unprotected flanks and rumps of the Estil knights' war dogs. Between the skirmishers surged an inchoate, writhing mass pushing now this way, now that.

  Rann nodded. Turning to an aide who stood by, he said, 'Order the artillery to commence firing. It'll give our crews good practice for what's to come.' The aide nodded and rushed away. 'Besides,' Rann said, leaning forward to grip the windworn stone of the wall, 'the Estil must be encouraged to reinforce.'

  Less than a minute later, a rain of rocks and ballista darts spattered among the Estil. Dogs screamed and men choked, dying as the two-yard-long shafts pinned men to mounts and mounts to sod. A few riders and footmen fleeing for the rear became a trickle, a stream – and threatened to turn into a torrential rout.

  Ludintip-borne observers signalled news of impendi
ng disaster. Hausan barked orders and scattered demotions like seedcorn. Reinforcements began to flood in from the hills.

  'Cease bombardment,' Rann ordered. Several of his aides remarked among themselves he had not smiled so since he had come up from a diverting evening torturing the virgin daughter of Mayor Irb, late of Bilsinx.

  The prince walked to where the apprentice mage Maguerr sat in a bishop's chair peering into a new geode.

  'Get me Dess.' The visage of the City's ground commander peered forth one-eyed from the geode communicator. Rann spoke briefly; the other nodded. He had been a colonel of the Guard until an arrow robbed him of one eye and the binocular vision essential to bird-back warfare. Rann trusted Dess to carry out his orders, no matter how distasteful.

  Reinforcements joined the Estil battles, roaring lustily with eagerness to be at the foe. No sooner were fresh troops engaged than the black and purple lines began to waver. In a matter of heartbeats, the City forces had turned their dogs' tails toward their enemy in headlong flight.

  Back in the Hall of Deputies Hausan crowed with delight at the news and restored the ranks he had been pruning mere moments before.

  'But, sir, the ludintip report that many of our reserve forces are marching forth to join the pursuit.'

  'Are they now? Spirited lads! I shall see a medal struck to commemorate this day.' He turned to Tonsho and the Marshal with an expansive wave of his hand. 'Did I not tell you the fight would be decided on the ground? Let them fly their pet gerfalcons against us now. The day is won!'

  Tonsho and the round-cheeked Suema exchanged thoughtful looks. Without a word, the plump little Sky Marshal left to issue commands of his own. Ludintip rose from the city, titanic animated gasbags, some as large as a hundred feet across. The oblate spheroids of their hydrogen sacs glared orange-red in the sun. Shield-sized nuclei moved freely across the surface of the sacs avoiding only the tightly held sphincters the ludintip used to steer. The vast fernlike feeding fans were folded beneath the creatures. Tentacles as thick as a man's thigh clung to special brackets set in the gondolas; much slimmer tentacles studded with sting cells carrying an agonizing nerve poison waved in agitation. The gondolas swinging below the creatures bristled with spearpoints and engines of war.