Dave Smeds - The Sorcery Within

She wasn't quite sure what had been done to her, though she remembered every bit of it. She knew that she had fought the process. She had been through a part of her life with a vividness easily as powerful as the actual occurrence. Yet now she could look at those same events at a distance, as if they were part of another person's life. She could see the crippling effect of her own withdrawal. She knew now that it was not just events and evil men who had ruined her, but her own refusal to recover, to strive for a better life. For the first time, her misery was where it belonged – in the past. Unless she let it, the past couldn't touch her anymore.

She got to her feet, drained but also aware of a new, quiet strength inside herself. The old healer met her as she came out of the grove. He looked at her carefully and burst into a broad smile.

To her astonishment, so did she.

It was so quiet he could hear a drill beetle gnawing at the dead cork of one of the nearby palms. It was only after Alemar had stirred that he realized Gast was seated next to him. They were in their tent.

"Good morning," the Hab-no-ken said.

Alemar was exhausted, but he had never felt more peaceful. "Is it always like this?"

"What you did was ambitious for a beginner. Soon you will be able to judge your own limits."

"And Ilyrra?"

"See for yourself."

They went outside. Alemar kept a hand on Gast's shoulder to steady himself.

They spotted Ilyrra in the grainfield to the east of the oasis. She was taking bread and tea to the grandson of the patriarch. Her straight posture and the vigor of her step told Alemar all he needed to know.

"I am proud of you," Gast said.

Alemar smiled, and they began walking back the way they had come.

ROCKY AND IMPREGNABLE,Xurosh loomed ahead of them. The caravan master rode up to the tollhouse, identified himself, and paid the fee. Soon the main gates opened like iron jaws and the conglomeration of humans, beasts, vehicles, and goods flowed in.

The jugglers were already at it, whirling and tossing knives to dazzle their new audience. Just behind them came the leather-maker from Shol, his pregnant wife sequestered in the coach, his slave boldly displayed on a oeikani at his side.

The guards hooted merrily, jesting boisterously concerning the best uses for the supple thighs that peeked through the slit skirt. Elenya flashed a smile back at them and flicked the cloth to show more leg. The sentries laughed, a pair of them promising to investigate the matter further when their round of duty was over.

The leather-maker arranged for quarters on the ground floor of the inn, so that his spouse would not have to climb stairs in her condition. He came back to the coach and, with the help of the slave girl, assisted the soon-to-be mother into the building. A few of the fort's residents spared them a disinterested glance before they vanished into their room.

"At last!" Lonal sighed, pulling off his veils. He began to loosen the shawl.

"Don't be so eager," Elenya cautioned. "You have to be female a bit longer."

"Yesterday would be too soon," Lonal stated flatly. "Remind me never to get pregnant."

"I don't think it's possible," Elenya said.

"I have seen too many strange things happen. I can believe anything now."

Elenya knew Lonal was actually well pleased. They had maintained their masquerade all the way from Surudain. They were where they wanted to be – inside Xurosh, with no one suspecting that they were Zyraii. Now, finally, he could do more than sit on a wagon.

Lonal began to smear animal fat on his chin and sharpen his knife to shave. One last time. It wouldn't do at this point to have someone accidentally come near enough to his veils to see the dark smudge of a beard through them. Shigmur and Elenya refreshed themselves as well.

"Have a look around," Lonal said presently. "See if anything is different than what our spies have reported."

It was not uncommon for visitors to Xurosh to tour the sights. The fortress was a spectacular edifice. Though roughly made and unornamented, its sheer massiveness was daunting. The favorite vista was from the bridge. None thought it strange to see the Shol leather-maker casually negotiating its length, his slave girl holding a broad parasol to shield him from the sun.

"They must have used thousands of men to build this in so short a time," Elenya said. The main fortress was large enough to house stables, two wineshops, an open-air bazaar, exercise yards, a brothel, and two inns, including the one in which they had left Lonal. The small keep on the other side of the gorge contained the barracks and mess hall of the permanent garrison.

"The merchants can accomplish a great deal when their profits are in jeopardy," Shigmur said.

On closer examination, the construction bore evidence of the haste of its construction. The walls were native stone, chunks of irregular rock held more by their own weight than by the mortar. Only the bridge had been hewn – some of the major corbels obviously quarried elsewhere – and set with precision. Given time and lack of interference, a group of men could literally pull Xurosh down.

But it was much better, Elenya decided, to leave the work in place. If it could defend Azuraji and Surudainese, it could defend Zyraii.

She peered down through one of the machicolations at the road below. The height was dizzying. She saw a child dribbling water from a cup over the edge. Long before it reached the earth, it separated into hundreds of small, perfect spheres. Elenya selected one and watched its descent. It shrank out of visibility, though she saw the splatter of impact.

The child's mother slapped him for wasting water.

Shigmur and Elenya ambled on, toward the courtyard of the south keep. If the north fortress were not formidable enough, the smaller structure dissolved any fantasies of direct assault. The keep could only be reached by the bridge. It stood on a solitary promontory, cliffs on every side. An iron gate lay ready to drop and seal off the entrance. Even if the outer fortress were conquered, the keep would stand. Even if the occupants were trapped within, they could still drop missiles on the trade road. The barracks contained a huge stock of foodstuffs.

Then, too, there was the well.

Elenya spotted it as she and Shigmur crossed the threshold. Here was the reason why Joren had held the peak, and why the traders could hold it now. The natural spring had been capped, and a small wellhouse built atop it. It stood in the center of the keep. A pair of guards relaxed under the gazebo roof, watching the day's traffic, making idle conversation with those who came to draw the water – usually slave women of the fortress, occasionally another of the keep's soldiers. The two T'lil warriors knew without testing it that the guards would not permit a man they did not know to come close to the well. It was not that the men of Xurosh particularly feared that the water would be violated; they simply knew that this was one of their weak spots and took measures to insure their security. They had stores of wine and other liquids, including barrels of water, to fall back on. Lonal and Elenya were depending on the fact that, in the daytime desert heat, nothing was as popular as cold, pure drafts freshly drawn from the well.

This afternoon was no different. Women were drawing urnsful and carrying them on their shoulders back to the northern fortress, which had no source of fresh water. All had to come from this one spring.

Elenya and Shigmur completed their tour. At their query, they were told that the gate was lowered at midnight. She smiled to herself. The plan was by no means faultless, but it had a decent chance. She made sure to smile coquettishly to the well guards as she followed her "master" across the yard.