The Hidden City

saddle-bags, took out his tightly rolled map, and brought it to her. She spread it out on the ground, knelt in front of it, and studied it for several moments. ‘There are some salt-flats out there,’ she conceded.
    ‘And they are in the right direction,’ Bevier pointed out.
    ‘Ogerajin’s been there,’ Talen added, ‘at least he says he has, so he’d almost have to know the way, wouldn’t he?’
    ‘There’s also a slaver’s route that runs off to the northwest,’ Mirtai said. ‘We saw a caravan following it when we first got here, and Ogerajin mentioned the fact that the Cyrgai keep slaves. It sort of stands to reason that the slave caravan’s bound for Cyrga, doesn’t it?’
    ‘You’re hanging all this speculation on the ravings of a madman, you know,’ Flute said critically.
    ‘We do have a bit of verification, Aphrael,’ Sparhawk reminded her. ‘The villagers use the same term for their oasis as Ogerajin did, the salt-flats are where he said they were, and the slavers are going in that direction as well. I’m inclined to accept it.’
    ‘You said yourself that Cyrga’s somewhere in central Cynesga,’ Kalten reminded her, ‘and that’s where all of this points. Even if Ogerajin left some things out, we’ll still end up in the general vicinity of Cyrga. We’ll be a lot closer than we are right now, anyway.’
    ‘Since you’ve all made up your minds, why did you bother me with it?’ Her tone was just a bit petulant.
    Talen grinned at her. ‘We didn’t think it’d be polite to run off without telling you, Divine One.’
    ‘I’ll get you for that, Talen,’ she threatened.
    ‘How far ahead of us would you say that caravan is by now?’ Sparhawk asked Mirtai.
    ‘Ten leagues,’ she replied. ‘Twelve at the most. Slave caravans don’t move very fast.’
    ‘I think that’s our best bet, then,’ he decided. ‘Let’s put on those black robes and get started. We’ll trail along a couple of leagues behind that caravan, and anybody who happens to see us will think we’re stragglers.’
    ‘Anything’s better than just sitting still,’ Kalten said.
    ‘Somehow I was almost sure you’d feel that way about it,’ Sparhawk replied.
    ‘We’re little more than prisoners here,’ Empress Chacole declared, waving her hand at the luxurious furnishings of the women’s Palace. Chacole was a ripe-figured Cynesgan lady in her thirties. Her tone was one of only idle discontent, but her eyes were hard and shrewd as she looked at Elysoun.
    Elysoun shrugged. ‘I’ve never had any trouble coming and going as I choose.’
    ‘That’s because you’re a Valesian,’ Empress Torellia told her with just a touch of resentment. ‘They make allowances for you that they don’t make for the rest of us. I don’t think it’s very fair.’
    Elysoun shrugged again. ‘Fair or not, it’s the custom.’
    ‘Why should you have more freedom than the rest of us?’
    ‘Because I have a more active social life.’
    ‘Aren’t there enough men in the Women’s Palace for you?’
    ‘Don’t be catty, Torellia. You’re not old enough to make it convincing.’ Elysoun looked appraisingly at the Arjuni Empress. Torellia was a slender girl in her mid-twenties, and, like all Arjuni women, she was quite subservient. Chacole was obviously taking advantage of that.
    ‘You don’t see anybody restricting Cieronna’s movements,’ Chacole said.
    ‘Cieronna’s the first wife,’ Elysoun replied, ‘and she’s the oldest. We should respect her age if nothing else.’
    ‘I will not be a servant to an ageing Tamul hag!’ Chacole flared.
    ‘She doesn’t want you as a servant, Chacole,’ Elysoun told her. ‘She already has more servants than she can count—unless Liatris has thinned them out some more. All Cieronna really wants is a fancier crown than the rest of us have and the right to walk in front of us in formal processions. It doesn’t take much to make her happy. She’s not the brightest person in Matherion.’
    Torellia giggled.
    ‘Here comes Gahennas,’ Chacole hissed.
    The jug-eared Tegan Empress, covered to the chin in scratchy wool, approached them with a disapproving expression, an expression that came over her face every time she so much as looked at the barely dressed Elysoun. ‘Ladies,’ she greeted them with a stiff little nod.
    ‘Join us, Gahennas,’ Chacole invited. ‘We’re discussing politics.’
    Gahennas’ bulging eyes brightened. Tegans lived and breathed