FEND DIDN'T HAVE much of his army left, either. One of the Vaix stood behind him, favoring an injured leg. Of monsters, Aspar saw only a greffyn, a wairwulf, and two utins.
That was still likely to be more than he could kill, but he was ready to try. "I told you you were going to need my help," the Sefry said.
"Yah, thanks," he said, nocking an arrow to the string of the unfamiliar bow.
The wairwulf and the utins were fast, though, moving in front of Fend before he could aim.
"Aspar," Fend called. "If you manage to kill me here or, more likely, if I kill you, what happens to Winna, to your child, to your precious forest? I'll tell you. That knight of Gravio and his twenty men are going to catch her. Probably they'll kill her. Whoever sent them-and I'll bet my other eye that it was Hespero-doesn't have any interest in bringing a new Briar King into the world, not until they've taken the sedos throne and hold sway over everything. You and I have the same interest, Aspar."
"I doubt that."
"Doubt it if you want; my offer to help still stands. I can find the Vhenkherdh; you know I don't need you for that. And yes, I'd love to kill you now, but then I would have one less man-or monster, which is more what you are-to go up against this knight with. We need each other. We can settle our differences afterward, don't you think?"
Aspar stared into Fend's single eye, remembering the sight of Qerla's dead body, remembering the last time they had been in the valley of the Briar King.
He had never hated the Sefry more, but the geos wouldn't let him fire.
"Let's stop bloody talking, then," he snarled, lowering the bow. "Let's go."
Stephen and Zemle floated in the grip of the Vhelny, which, now that Stephen had gentled it, was soft, firm, almost velvety. He had determined that the demon's limbs were more like tentacles than arms. It was still obfuscated from the examination of Stephen's senses; no power he had or command he could give would lift that apparently ancient magic and reveal the creature's true appearance. It was a subtle thing that would take time and perhaps more power to overcome.
He was happy that the cloud that concealed the Vhelny had no effect on his own vision, however, as they drifted through the delicate layers of clouds and the vista below revealed itself.
Directly beneath his feet Eslen castle pointed towers up at him like whimsical lances. About that were the tiers of the city and the long, green island of Ynis, held all around by the two mighty rivers and a thousand neat canals stretching off toward the horizon.
And along the banks of those rivers, beside those canals, were fires, tents, and tens of thousands of men.
West across a great bay, beyond an awesome many-toothed wall, the Lier Sea was thickly jeweled with ships for as far as he could see.
"Eslen," Zemle breathed.
"Have you been here before?" he asked.
"Never."
"Nor have I."
That wasn't exactly true. He had never been to this Eslen, but he remembered an earlier, much smaller one, little more than a hill fort, really, a tiny place trying not to be crushed by giants, its little leaders capering to his will.
Now it was quite splendid, though. He could hardly wait to see the royal scriftorium. Who knew what precious texts it might hold, unappreciated for millennia?
But first things first.
He had the Vhelny set them down on a pretty little hill on the island, where they had a good view of the surrounds, then set the demon to guard them from anyone approaching. They picnicked on salty ham, pears, and a sweet red wine. Zemle was nervous at first, but when no one bothered them, she eventually relaxed and even drowsed.
He noticed the Vhelny drifting near.
"I smell the throne," it said.
"Yes," Stephen said. "So do I. It's not here, but it will be soon, down there in the shadow city. That must be where Virgenya put her shortcut."
"You're speaking nonsense, wormling."
He shook his head. "No. She left the power, but she left a key to it in the blood of her line and a place for that key to unlock. She made a faneway, a brief one containing only two fanes-but separated by a hundred leagues. But once one of her heirs visited the one, it was inevitable that they should visit the other and inherit much of her power. That's what happened to Anne. But Anne isn't Virgenya. She won't use the power and then give it up."
"That's why you seek the throne? To save the world?" the Vhelny sounded dubious.
"To make it what it should be."
"Then why not go now to the city of shadows and wait?"
Stephen plucked a straw of grass and placed it between his teeth. "Because I can't make out even the faintest shadow of Anne anymore. Even after I walked the faneway, I couldn't see anything about her, but I knew where she was. Now it's as if she's gone completely. She might be a thousand leagues from here or right there, waiting for me. I can still see Hespero, and I should probably challenge him first, garner his strength before attempting Anne."
"Coward."
"Ah, you want me to rush into this and lose. You'd like to be free again. You won't be, I promise."
"Man-worm, you know so little." Stephen felt the prick of a thousand ghostly needles against his flesh. He rolled his eyes and dismissed the attack with a wave of his hand.
"Hush. I'm going to try to find her again. Maybe being closer will help."
The Vhelny said nothing, but he felt it coil in upon itself, sulking.
He sent his senses drifting, expanding away from him like ripples in a pond. There was the throbbing sickness that was the emerging throne; there was the contained puissance of the man whom he once had known as Praifec Hespero but who lately had risen in the world. He would be difficult. Should he make an alliance with him against Anne? That might be the safest course; he could strike the Fratrex Prismo once they had won.
But then, Hespero would nurse the same plan.
He was almost ready to give up when something caught his attention, a sort of glimmer in the corner of his eye. It was a few leagues from the city, and like Eslen-of-Shadows, it reeked of Cer.
At first he didn't understand, but after a moment he smiled in delight and clapped his hands together.
"I should have guessed," he said. "This is really wonderful. And no one else knows."
"What do you babble about?" the Vhelny asked.
"We'll just go and see," Stephen said, rubbing his hands together. "At worst it will help pass the time. But I don't think it will be worst. The first thing is to find a safe place for Zemle."
The last time Aspar had seen the Sa Ceth ag Sa'Nem, the "Shoulders of Heaven," he had been in the bloom of early and unexpected love. They-and everything else he saw-had appeared beautiful beyond imagining.
He supposed they still were, those mammoth peaks whose summits were so high that they faded into the sky like the moon at midday. But he wasn't giddy with love this time, far from it. No, he was thinking mostly about killing.
The geos wouldn't let him, not yet, not until he actually had gotten Winna to the Vhenkherdh or, presumably, when she got there with Leshya. Until then, he couldn't slit Fend crotch to breastbone because then Fend's monsters would kill him, and the geos didn't want that.
That was how things were. When they reached the valley, they would change.
He no longer held much hope that anything useful could be done there. He didn't doubt that Fend would cut open Winna and offer whatever was growing in her in some grizzly and pointless sacrifice dreamt up by the diseased mind of the Sarnwood witch. But heal the forest, bring it back? It didn't seem possible. It also didn't seem very likely that he and Winna were going to get out of the valley alive once they got there. It might be that the best he could do was give her an easy death, then slaughter Fend and as many of the others as he could before they took him down. The thought of dying didn't bother him much; without the forest and without Winna, there wasn't anything keeping him in the lands of fate.
He was still in that bleak mood a few bells later, when the unexpected walked up and slapped it right out of him.
They were switchbacking up to the top of a long ridge of hills when a stream crossed their path. And there, just where the water ran off the hill, grew a little green fern. Not a black spider tree or dragon-tongue thing but a simple honest bracken.
Farther along the trail they found more, and by day's end they were in almost natural woodland again. For the first time since entering the King's Forest his chest relaxed a bit, and the stench of putrefaction was almost gone.
So the heart of it is still alive, he thought. Leshya was right about that, at least. Maybe she was right about more.
Leshya had taken Winna, which suggested the Sefry also thought that the child she carried might be the solution to the problem. But had she thought that all along, or had she heard his conversation with Fend?
And Leshya and Winna weren't alone. There was a third set of tracks: Ehawk's. Leshya was taking them to the valley the same way Aspar had the last time, a long way around that required climbing down a deep gorge of briar trees.
They'd left their trail a day before; Fend was going by a more direct route that would allow horses in. That was how the knight was going, too. With any luck at all, they would actually beat Leshya, Winna, and Ehawk. When Winna entered the valley, the geos ought to lift, and then Aspar could do as he pleased.
By nightfall, with the sound of whippoorwills around him, he no longer was so certain what that would be.
Because he had hope again, as frail and as obstinate as a bracken.