Children of Ambros Read online

  Chlorien's eyes opened black and disoriented, but she drank when Autoc pushed the cup to her lips. As she drank, she relaxed quite suddenly, looking up at the mage tiredly.

  "Father?" Her pupils were still dilated, but there was sense again in the eyes.

  "Aye, little one, you're back." Chlorien gave a contented sigh, her hand found the mage's and gripped very hard. "Drink again." Chlorien opened her mouth.

  "So tired, Father," she mumbled, her eyes closing.

  "Not yet, little one. Join me," instructed Autoc calmly.

  Jaim watched as the violet eyes met mage blue ones and there was a stillness about both figures as their minds melded. Chlorien took the mage back to the desert, where she shared with him the depth of her experience, her fears and her sensations. When their eyes broke contact, Jaim noticed the mage's face was grave and his eyes deeply thoughtful as he stared down. Autoc brushed his hand across the dusty brow. It wasn't necessary. Exhaustion was etched on the young face. Autoc covered Chlorien gently, his hand resting on the tousled curls for a long moment.

  "Sleep deeply, little one," he said quietly.

  "How long were you giving him, my friend?" asked a deep voice behind the mage. Startled, Autoc turned, then relaxed. He rose and stretched, his long look at Jaim a measuring one.

  "Is it so apparent then?" he sighed.

  "Answer me."

  "He called. Had he not when he did, I'd have gone to him."

  "What made you wait?"

  "I knew he came because, though he didn't know it, I was with him all the time. I had to wait for his call."

  "Did you experience all he did?"

  "Not while I watched her, no. That wasn't possible if I was to remain an objective observer, ready to bring her back should she sink too far. She very nearly did, which is why I was anxious. Just now I went deep with her, yes."

  "And?"

  "She went very, very deep, my friend." His mind seething, Autoc stared at nothing and had to be recalled by Jaim.

  "Why did that happen?"

  "They gave her a mind-enhancing drug. I should've realised she didn't need that drink!" Autoc sighed again.

  "They'd have wondered had she not drunk it," observed Jaim, his glance resting on the sleeping figure swathed in furs.

  "Aye," murmured Autoc. "It was almost too much." He looked down at Chlorien again. "I won't let her remember it all, not just yet. She isn't ready."

  "We're speaking, you'll notice," Jaim said, a tad grimly, "of her and she, my friend." Autoc looked at him with a rueful smile in his eyes.

  "Aye," he agreed. "That won't do."

  Jaim took his arm, saying with an understanding twinkle, "Let's join Choja, Autoc. You haven't eaten and the lad'll be all right left here, won't he?"

  "He'll sleep for a long time," Autoc said, following Jaim from the tent.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Three days later they rode into Indigo, Choja leading, his back straight and eyes looking straight ahead. He didn't so much as glance from side to side. Behind him, but close, were five of his men, followed again by Autoc, Jaim and Chlorien, three abreast, but flanked at sides and behind by the other tribesmen.

  Indigo was a walled city, but it was unfortified, in much the same way as Ortok was, thought Autoc as they rode through the gates. He also thought appreciatively that it looked like a mirage after their prolonged days in the desert. He glanced over at Chlorien whose youthful expression of surprise and awe amused him, because he realised it was the first major city the child had seen since she was so brutally wrenched from her own.

  Like Sadekak, Indigo had narrow streets of windowless walls, only here they were relieved by open doorways, through which the travellers could see treed courtyards and, every so often, pools of various shapes and grandeur. Mostly all that could be seen were shrubs and paving.

  As they rode further into the city they saw residences for the more affluent, horseshoe-shaped and surrounded by landscaped gardens. Choja veered away from these and they clattered down many more narrow streets, edging their way through busy markets and small beehive villages that sprawled off the markets.

  Autoc assumed most of the buildings were made of sun-dried bricks, though he wasn't sure what the colourful roofing tiles were. While he mused, he saw that they'd come to main avenues from which minor narrow streets spawned in all directions. Down these were row after row of warehouses made from kiln-dried bricks; walled enclosures filled the spaces between the streets to make courtyards of differing sizes, each entered through beautifully wrought gates.

  Those who could afford to be beyond the beehive villages, lived in terraced houses, their roofs from ridge to eaves covered in the same glazed tiles of varying colours. Each door was differently coloured as well, which made Jaim ask the tribesman riding next to them if that was significant. He was told colour denoted status.

  From all sides of the avenues were terraces, some of them stepped; there were plazas and sunken courts full of shrubs, pots of every conceivable shape and size, and sculptures. Autoc acknowledged it was a quite lovely city. Chlorien was wide-eyed. She noticed, as they rode along one avenue, that the houses became increasingly opulent in styles she hadn't seen before. The wealthier desert lords had houses with white marble exteriors, portico-type entrances and columns that supported archways to courtyards and gardens.

  Jaim noticed their pace slackened and then saw why. At the end of the avenue was a palatial residence, horseshoe-shaped like all the others, but this was more ornate, symmetrical and formally landscaped. Autoc took in some of the architectural features with interest and wondered idly if the Archmage had ever visited Indigo. He suspected there were few places on Ambros Bene hadn't been.

  They rode into what was obviously the main courtyard, from where the mage could see what would be halls with domes, courts, arcades and imposing mosaic entrance-ways to east and west. The courtyard, where Choja signalled a halt, was like all others except in size; there was sculpture in abundance and shrubs interspersed with ornamental pots. Unlike other courtyards, this one boasted huge mature trees that gave welcome shade and relief from the heat and dazzling marble all around them.

  Autoc took in the tall columns that supported richly painted archways and tried to see what the paintings were; he couldn't because Choja sharply signalled they were to dismount. When he stood, the mage turned, realising that the archways interlaced at different levels and some exterior walls were decorated with filigree plaster work that was very delicate and repeated on the columns.

  Next he saw a large garden with a series of courts and pavilions that all led off one another. He was intrigued, conscious of a sense of space and timelessness as his hand ran over a marble screen. As he was firmly escorted up a stepped and paved terrace, he saw glimpses of crenellated parapets and even more domes in the distance. They went through numerous halls and corridors, their walls decorated with alternating bands of drak and stone for decoration, while the floors were ornamented in delicate mosaics that the mage longed to stop and study.

  Choja finally stopped at one entrance way, flanked by what Jaim thought could only be guards. These men bowed very low to Choja and he bowed less deeply in return. As he did, the guards stood to one side to let him through, falling back into rank immediately to prevent any others access. The travellers remained where they were. Chlorien was conscious each guard had a firm hand on his sheathed sword.

  With his height Autoc could see, that at one end of this very imposing room there was a raised platform covered by a canopy of fine, rich silk, from the south mused the mage thoughtfully. The tribesmen had far-reaching trading agreements it seemed. The platform was approached by shallow broad steps and all about it the floor was painted. The walls were covered by a detailed painted frieze. The mage could see Chlorien tried to peer at it through the arm of one of the guards and grinned when she squinted in frustration.

  A still figure sat on the platform. Autoc watched with interest as Choja went to one knee at the base of the steps,
remained there with his head bent to the floor, then, after a few moments mounted the steps and knelt on both knees, hands up, out and clasped. This was a very Churchik warrior gesture, as was what came next. The mage saw the figure clasp the hands briefly, then touch Choja's queue. Choja lifted his head but didn't move and Autoc could clearly see he spoke earnestly before he rose, backed down the steps, strode from the hall and gestured, as he came close, that the guards were to stand back. They obliged. Choja nodded at Autoc and Chlorien, but shook his head at Jaim. The latter raised an eyebrow, but lounged back at his ease on a stick he'd taken to using.

  Autoc was pushed ahead of Choja. Chlorien realised she was to walk some distance behind and meekly fell back. Her eyes scanned everything and grew rounder as she walked. Autoc reached the base of the shallow steps and stood still. Choja pushed him. Autoc didn't move. The mage remembered Choja's warning from the evening before concerning the Sophy's attitude to strangers. This was a slightly xenophobic society. The face looking down at them was as still and cold as marble. It was also a proud face. The dark green eyes that stared down were the only live things about it, Autoc thought, as he looked directly back at the graven figure. The voice that spoke was deep and distinctly menacing.

  "Who has my son brought who won't pay homage owed me?"

  Chlorien looked up at Choja with deep respect at that, but he didn't notice her because his eyes were settled on the mage in a frown of warning. Chlorien sensibly bent her head again and listened.

  "I pay deepest respects to a desert lord," Autoc was saying, in his calm and courteous way.

  "You don't pay homage."

  "It's unknown where I come from," responded the mage easily, though he heard the inward hissing of breath from Choja beside him.

  "You will here," was the cold, humourless response.

  "If it's your will," Autoc replied very quietly, "though I'd consider it a discourtesy were it not done to me in all humility." There was a long silence. Chlorien could sense the tension in Choja. The motionless figure still didn't move.

  "What, then, is the habit where you come from?" There was a note of humour in the deep voice.

  "We meet as man to man," responded Autoc, a gleam coming to his eyes that the figure above him didn't miss.

  The figure rose abruptly and, with swishing robes, came down the steps to stand directly in front of Autoc, his green eyes flashing a warning. Autoc looked straight at him, his blue eyes cool but unthreatening.

  "And then what happens?"

  Autoc held out his hand palm up and very gently placed the desert lord's palm on his, saying quietly, "I'm Schol and this is my son Chlorien. His uncle Jaim's still outside." The deep green eyes scanned first Autoc, then lighted on Chlorien and the sword she now habitually wore.

  "I'm Chojoh, desert lord of Indigo and Sophy of the Wildwind tribes. Why's this boy wearing a sekran?" There was a note of anger in the deep voice that made Choja speak quickly.

  "We've been in the desert some time, Sophy, because the travellers were well east and headed north. The boy reached maturity with us. I hope this is acceptable."

  "Entirely." The cold eyes stayed settled on Chlorien. "How old are you?"

  "Not quite fifteen cycles."

  "You're very pretty for a boy and have most unusual colouring." The voice was dispassionate and Chlorien discreetly kept quiet. "Why are they brought here?" There was now a note of displeasure in the voice.

  "Schol tells me they travel to where they believe Ice Isle is," replied Choja. The green eyes of the Sophy swung back to Autoc.

  "Why?"

  "Schol doesn't tell me. Neither the old man nor the boy knows why they go there." Chojoh took his hand from the mage's.

  "You'll tell me," he said softly, staring deeply into Autoc's eyes. Autoc's voice was implacably cold.

  "I say nothing more than that."

  "We're the gateway for any who may unwisely seek Ice Isle," came the soft voice again. "I decide whether you live or die."

  "As you will," said Autoc icily, drawing himself to his full height. Even on a step above him, the Sophy now had to look up at the mage. He turned to Chlorien.

  "Leave us," he said sharply. Choja looked briefly at Autoc who nodded. Quietly, Choja took Chlorien by the hand and led her away, the youngster looking back nervously over her shoulder. Both men of power, the mage and the Sophy eyed each other.

  "Now," said Chojoh softly still. "You'll tell me, Schol, why you have need to cross our lands. I'm the Sophy of all the tribes, so you need my permission to go beyond Indigo." The voice got even softer. "I'm wondering why my son was foolish enough to bring you this far."

  "My son must go to Ice Isle. He doesn't know where it is, nor why he goes. His uncle accompanies us because it's his destiny to do so. I can say no more than this."

  "My son tells me you have pursuers."

  "That's correct."

  "I could send you back to them," threatened Chojoh.

  "Like father, like son," murmured the mage. Chojoh's eyebrows hitched. He tilted his head.

  "What's that you say?"

  "Your son threatened us likewise." The Sophy looked very thoughtfully at the mage, to be met with a bland look.

  "You don't know fear," said Chojoh finally, in a voice of surprise and with an arrested expression. "Why is that?"

  "I'm not afraid."

  "Is the boy so brave too, I wonder?"

  "I wouldn't permit anyone to harm the boy."

  "Would not permit?" repeated the Sophy, his brow becoming thunderous. "Do you know to whom you speak?" He turned and snapped his fingers imperatively. Immediately the guards stood to one side. "Bring me the boy!"

  Choja returned with Chlorien. Autoc noticed distress in his eyes. Chlorien pulled back and got a frowning look of displeasure when she glanced up at Choja.

  "Come, boy," he said sharply. "Don't linger!" Chlorien was pushed in front of Chojoh.

  "Are you brave, boy?" Chojoh asked quietly. Chlorien looked up at Autoc.

  "Father?"

  "Answer the desert lord, little one."

  "I don't know," admitted Chlorien honestly. She glanced up at the Sophy and saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

  "We'll find out, boy. Choja, hold him."

  Choja looked thoroughly uneasy, his eyes flickering to Autoc who stood absolutely still, his eyes like chips of blue ice. Choja, his gaze still on the mage, put his arms round Chlorien and held her rigid, then, when Chlorien managed to twist slightly so she could stare up at him, Choja looked into violet eyes so full of trust he let her go.

  "Choja!" snapped the Sophy, his voice vibrant with anger. Choja went to one knee.

  "He's as an adopted son," he stammered. "You can't ask me to hurt such a one. I can't."

  "What does he mean?" demanded Chojoh, surprise warring with anger on his face. Autoc stooped and touched Choja on the shoulder, but the tribesman remained still.

  "You honour the boy, Choja, though he's too young to appreciate it. I'm not and am deeply touched by your gesture. I can't, though, let you feel distress when none is merited. Please carry this no further. Accept my hand as a mark of my respect."

  Autoc put his hand down to the younger man who rose. Choja just stood in front of the Sophy, his attitude one of deference.

  "Sophy," he said in a low voice. "I only ask for respect and understanding." The Sophy looked from his son to Chlorien and then to the mage.

  "We shall sit," he said, with authority. "Now! You, boy, come here beside me." Chlorien instantly obeyed, sinking to the bottom step where she was directed. Chojoh sat beside her and taking her chin in his hand, he made her turn her head to face him. "What's your name, child?"

  "Chlorien." Her head was released, but the Sophy's stare didn't waver from her face.

  "Why did my son say you were as a son to him, boy?" Chlorien looked across to Autoc who lounged back on the second step next to Choja, the ice gone from the mage's eyes.

  "Father?" she entreated.

  "Answ
er, little one. Or don't you understand the question?" Chlorien shook her head. "He wants to know why Choja cares for you and wouldn't hurt you."

  Chlorien looked bravely into the cold, angry face and replied with a tremor in her voice, "He taught me to be a desert boy. That may be why."

  "Explain."

  So Chlorien did, her voice strengthening as she described their travels from the time they met Choja. She ended by touching her sword and saying in a tone of defiance, "He gave me this. He said it was a gift. It's mine. He said I earned it."

  "You went into the desert?"

  "Yes."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes."

  "For the day we require of boys in baak?" Chlorien looked quite blank. "For how long did you go, before you returned by yourself?" When the young face clouded, the Sophy saw confusion in the big eyes. He turned to Choja. "Sophysun?"

  "Two days, Sophy, he walked alone."

  "Two days? How long did it take you to teach him to survive?"

  "Four weeks," said Choja very softly. The Sophy drew in his breath and his gaze rested on the boy again.

  "How old did he say he was, Sophysun?"

  "Not yet fifteen cycles, Father."

  "Your refusal to harm him is understood," responded the Sophy quietly, his glance briefly travelling to his son. "You could do nothing else." Choja bent his head and the mage saw how the young tribesman's shoulders relaxed for the first time since their arrival.

  Chojoh's eyes met the mage's and an understanding seemed to pass between them, unspoken but quite clear. When Autoc briefly held the cold, green eyes with his, the Sophy saw sadness in the blue eyes that flickered to the boy, and saw, too, love and concern mixed with misgiving. The Sophy was instantly alert. He wondered why he'd been permitted to see this. He rose suddenly.

  "Choja, take them to guest quarters. Later they'll join us to dine. You'll return to me as soon as they're settled."

  Choja bowed very deeply, then waited for Autoc to turn and leave. Before he did, the mage inclined his head to the Sophy in a gesture of respect, then quietly put his arm protectively round Chlorien's shoulders, guiding her gently from the audience chamber.

  ~~~

  Their rooms were palatial, the huge door that separated the chambers flung wide open so they had a clear view of their surroundings. Chlorien stared in awe at the beds.