In Thy Name

Chapter 2 - Lost

The keep of Castle Caran lay in one of the higher canyons of Wadi al-Jaifa. Before the Gladiari came, it had been a Masunyi place—the Masunyi had built the water collection system the Gladiari relied on—but the Gladiari had commanded the castle as long as anyone now alive could remember. Including Gladiari, who could live a very long time.

On one side, the steep canyon wall had been carved into an imposing colonnaded entrance, tiers of arched windows letting light into the cavernous audience hall. Above were the balustraded terraces that fronted the Caran family apartments; inside, Sareb knew from Teshem, past the first layer of open, airy rooms, was the Fortress, the warren of close, dark tunnels that the family would retreat to if under attack. Opposite, the slightly sloping wall was honeycombed with stairs and walkways, riddled with caves, the dwellings of the castle's garrison and the cells of its servants. No Masunyi captives toiled here, but this was the hub that controlled the fields and the mines where they did.

A wave of nausea passed through Sareb, not much weaker than the first time he'd been to Castle Caran. If he could burn the whole place down, he would.

Four square guard towers jutted from the cliffs, roughly marking the perimeter of the main courtyard. Two flanked the main gate, which was accessible on foot only by the narrow, winding Siha Gorge; the other two towered over the drop to the verdant valley to the northeast.

The courtyard between the canyon walls was usually busy with soldiers training and douloi going about their work, but in the heat of midday it was deserted. Sareb, on Djusra, circled several times but saw no hint of life.

They circled lower, just above the tops of the guard towers. Were any guards on duty? The windows, small except for the one where the huge bolt of a ballista peeked through from each tower, were dark and empty. Any guards were in the recesses of the towers, resting out the heat. Sareb's capewrap was soaked in sweat; he wiped sweat from his eyes with a dry corner and brought Djusra to land on one of the square pyramids of the guard tower roofs.

But the roof tiles were too smooth, and she slid toward the edge, talons scratching the tiles. The sound seemed muffled in the oppressive heat, but immediately, figures moved in the windows of the three other towers. Sareb hopped off Djusra's back just before she flapped off the edge of the tower. By then soldiers were poking their heads out the tower windows and shouting.

"A dracoraque!" "A desert-dweller!" "Sand scum!" "Get him!" "That's the mage!" "The Desert Mage!" "Be careful!" "Is he going to blow up the castle?"

I wish. Sareb had no idea how he'd done what he'd done before.

Soldiers struggled to bring the ballistae to bear on Djusra, but she flapped up into the white-hot sky before they were ready.

That left Sareb alone on the roof, barely maintaining his footing on the slippery tiles.

The soldiers waited, watching him.

With no other way out, he jumped.

It was a dumb idea. He had barely enough time to rattle off a levitation spell and turn the landing from bone-breaking to jarring.

Instantly several guards emerged, swords drawn, from niches around the courtyard. Several more appeared on the canyon walls with crossbows trained on him. Sareb froze, half-crouched and arms spread from his landing.

"Don't move or we hack you to pieces," one of the guards on the ground snarled in Samrych as they advanced slowly.

"He's a mage," one of the others hissed. Another asked, "Does he even understand words?"

This was a bad idea. He ought to have snuck up to the canyon rim and climbed down where he couldn't be seen.

"Shut up, both of you," said the first guard, a well-built, dark-skinned Southerner whose Samrych had a blunted and rolling accent. He fixed his purplish-brown eyes on Sareb as he came within sword-striking distance. Sareb's breath and heart sped up; he tried to think of a spell. "Desert Mage, what you doing here?"