The Hidden City

origins were so mixed that no one could really tell what he was. He grinned a great deal, and he was loud and boisterous and had an infectious laugh. Kalten liked him, and Senga appeared to have found a kindred spirit in the Elene outlaw he knew as Col. He was laughing as he came across Narstil’s cluttered compound where furniture and other household goods were stacked in large, untidy heaps on the bare ground. ‘Ho, Col!’ he shouted as he approached the tree where Kalten, Caalador, and Bevier had pitched their tent. ‘You should have come along. An ox-cart load of ale opens every door in Natayos.’
    ‘Armies make me nervous, Senga,’ Kalten replied. ‘The officers are always trying to enlist you—usually at sword-point—and generals as a group tend to be overly moralistic for my taste. The term “martial law” makes my blood run cold for some reason.’
    ‘Scarpa grew up in a tavern, my friend,’ Senga assured him, ‘and his mother was a whore, so he’s accustomed to the seamier side of human nature.’
    ‘How did you make out?’ Kalten asked.
    Senga grinned, rolled his eyes and jingled a heavy purse. ‘Well enough to make me consider giving up crime and opening my own brewery. The only problem with that is the fact that our friends at Natayos probably won’t be there all that much longer. If I set up shop as a brewer and my customers all marched off to get killed by the Atans, I’d probably have to drink all that ale by myself, and nobody’s that thirsty.’
    ‘Oh? What makes you think those rebels are getting ready to leave?’
    ‘Nothing very specific,’ Senga said, sprawling out on the ground and offering Kalten his wineskin. ‘Scarpa’s been gone for the past several weeks. He and two or three Elenes left Natayos last month, and nobody I talked with knew where he was going or why.’
    Kalten carefully kept his expression disinterested. ‘I hear that he’s crazy. Crazy men don’t need reasons for the things they do or the places they go.’
    ‘Scarpa’s crazy enough, all right, but he can certainly whip those rebels of his into a frenzy. When he decides to make a speech, you’d better find a comfortable place to sit, because you’re going to be there for six hours at least. Anyway, he went off a while back, and his army was getting settled in for the winter. That’s all changed now that he’s back.’
    Kalten became very alert. ‘He’s come back?’
    ‘That he has, my friend. Here, give us a drink.’ Senga took the wineskin and tipped it up, squirting a long stream of wine into his mouth. Then he wiped his chin on the back of his hand. ‘He and those Elene friends of his came riding into Natayos not four days ago. They had a couple of women with them, I hear.’
    Kalten sank down on the ground and made some show of adjusting his sword-belt to cover his sudden excitement. ‘I thought Scarpa hated women,’ he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
    ‘Oh, that he does, my friend, but from what I hear, these two women weren’t just some playthings he picked up along the way. They had their hands tied, for one thing, and the fellow I talked with said that they were a little bedraggled, but they didn’t really look like tavern wenches. He didn’t get a very good look at them, because Scarpa hustled them into a house that seems to have been fixed up for somebody a little special—fancy furniture and rugs on the floor and all that.’
    ‘Was there anything unusual about them?’ Kalten almost held his breath.
    Senga shrugged and took another drink. ‘Just the fact that they weren’t treated like ordinary camp followers, I suppose.’ He scratched his head. ‘There was something else the fellow told me,’ he said. ‘What was it now?’
    Kalten did hold his breath this time.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ Senga said, ‘now I remember. The fellow said that these two women Scarpa took all the trouble to invite to Natayos were Elenes. Isn’t that odd?’

Chapter 9
    The town of Beresa on the southeastern Arjuni coast was a low, unlovely place squatting toadlike on the beach lying between the South Tamul Sea and the swampy green jungle behind it. The major industry of the region was the production of charcoal, and acrid smoke hung in the humid air over Beresa like a curse. Captain Sorgi dropped his anchor some distance out from the wharves and went ashore to consult with the harbor master.
    Sparhawk, Stragen, and Talen, wearing their canvas smocks, leaned on the port rail staring