Clariel let go of the tree and lifted her head with a jerk.
‘What! You told me if I bound them they would serve forever! They promised!’
‘They are things of elemental power,’ said Mogget. ‘No promise means anything to them, save it be backed by force. They will serve only as long as you are stronger than them.’
‘You lied to me,’ whispered Clariel. She felt the rage rising inside her, the sudden fury of the betrayed.
‘I am not your servant,’ spat Mogget. ‘We are, if anything, companions in adversity. You wish your freedom; I wish mine. Running away and hugging trees will not help either of us!’
Clariel snarled and lunged at him, but Mogget danced away.
‘That’s better!’ he cried. ‘Let the fury come! Take the sword, take the –’
The cat’s words ended in a choking cry as his collar suddenly flared brighter than the sun, Charter marks in violent motion, circling his neck. The cat twisted in agony and flopped to the ground, while Clariel held her gauntleted hands to her face and recoiled back behind the tree.
The fury was gone, replaced by a cold determination.
‘I’m not taking those bells!’ called out Clariel. ‘But I will use Aziminil and Baazalanan as I see fit, and when I am done you will go back to the Abhorsen’s House!’
Mogget gave a pathetic, mewing cry, but it was not in answer to Clariel’s words. The blinding light of the Charter marks dimmed, and a woebegone cat crawled around the tree and looked up at Clariel.
‘I may be gone sooner than you think,’ he rasped. His head was bowed, and to Clariel he seemed totally abject, for she could not see the cunning glint in his green eyes, nor the curl in the corner of his mouth. ‘The Abhorsen has put on the ring, and soon will set out to pursue us. He will return me to the House, no doubt, but what of you? I do not think you will see your Great Forest ever again.’
‘I will,’ said Clariel firmly. ‘Nothing will stop me, not now. I’ve let too many things get in my way. We will go to Belisaere, and kill the King’s enemies, and he will let me go, no matter what Tyriel might say or do.’
‘As you say,’ said Mogget.
‘I will take the sword,’ said Clariel suddenly. She got up and began to stalk back up the gully. ‘But not the bells.’
‘Not yet,’ whispered Mogget, so soft that it was barely more than a thought. ‘But I know a necromancer when I see one.’
He padded after her, his pink tongue out a fraction, listening in satisfaction as she called out forcefully to her servants.
‘Aziminil! Baazalanan! Make the dragon again, at once!’
chapter thirty-one
return to belisaere
Clariel saw the Sea of Saere first, darker and more lustrous than the sky, an expanse of different blue. Then the peninsula, with the great city at its end. From this distance and height it was merely a blob of off-white against the blue of the sea and the patchworked green of the farmlands beyond the walls. There was the Narrow Way stretching rule-straight towards the city … and there was something on it halfway to Belisaere, three or four leagues ahead, something that obscured the clean line of the road. Clariel couldn’t make it out, it was too far ahead and her eyes were slitted against the wind even with her mask.
‘Mogget, what is that on the road? Can you see?’
‘I see,’ said Mogget. ‘An army on the march. A small army, perhaps five or six hundred all told. There are banners in the van – Ah … there may still yet be time …’
‘What? Whose banners?’
‘Many, some unclear. But I can see the silver star of the Clayr, and the blazons of Navis and the Bridge Company,’ said Mogget. ‘Many Charter Mages, some of the greatest power; I can feel the Captain of the Rangers, the Chief Librarian, three of the four Bridgemasters … another who I do not know, most powerful of all … They are marching fast, as if any delay could brook disaster …’
‘The Clayr?’ asked Clariel. She felt curiously relieved and deflated at the same time, and suddenly uncertain in her purpose. ‘They have come … So they will take care of Kilp, rescue Aunt Lemmin. I don’t need to do anything. We could turn away now, fly to Estwael …’
The cat stood up on his hind legs, one well-clawed paw hooking into Clariel’s leg. He had been sitting at her feet, because the sword with the Free Magic symbols lay across Clariel’s knees, the blade naked to the wind.
‘I suppose they are hurrying because the Palace is on fire,’ he said. ‘That is smoke, not cloud.’
‘On fire!’ exclaimed Clariel. ‘How … how much on fire?’
Mogget shrugged and sat back down.
‘There is a lot of smoke. I would guess that Kilp, seeing the relieving army approach, has tried to take it by assault. Perhaps he hopes to face the Clayr with the King already dead, and the evidence of his own crimes wiped clear. Probably including your aunt Lemmin.’
‘But the Clayr wouldn’t treat with him,’ protested Clariel. ‘Would they?’
‘More to the point, they won’t reach the city before nightfall,’ said Mogget judiciously. He looked up at Clariel, his eyes slitted against the wind, giving no sign of the thoughts that lay behind them. ‘Even if the city walls aren’t held against them, they cannot come to the Palace in time. The King’s guards may still be fighting, a last, desperate struggle, hoping for reinforcements … but who can help them?’
‘We can,’ said Clariel. ‘Why don’t they fly in? The Clayr have Paperwings, but I can’t see any …’
‘You told me yourself of bolt-throwers on Coiner’s Hill,’ said Mogget.
‘I wonder … if we should drop down and speak to the Clayr,’ said Clariel. She was finding it difficult to think clearly. It was so cold, and her forehead hurt. She could sense an eagerness from the dragon beneath her: Aziminil and Baazalanan wanted to fly faster, to come to grips with the enemy. It was like the fury, but different. And it wasn’t just about fighting, they wanted something else, she could feel it …
‘They will attack you on sight,’ warned Mogget. ‘We ride a Free Magic creature, remember! If we do go to the Palace the same applies. We will need to be wary of both sides.’
‘My robes have Charter marks,’ said C
lariel. She lifted her left sleeve to look at it, and was surprised to see so few marks there, and even these were fading, coming adrift from the cloth. ‘Well … once on the walls, the dragon can come apart, Az and Baz can stay … stay behind me. I will speak to Gullaine, she will know me …’
Her voice trailed off. It was so difficult to think! But her path was still clear in her mind. Go to the Palace. Save the King. Kill Kilp and Aronzo, who were bound to be there. Aunt Lemmin … she might be anywhere, a prisoner in the same hole where Clariel had been herself, but she didn’t really know where that was … or in the Governor’s House.
No matter, Clariel thought. Kilp will tell me before he dies.
‘Fly faster!’ she instructed. The dragon answered, its leathery wings moving to a more rapid beat.
‘You could call a wind,’ suggested Mogget. ‘Take just a smidgeon of power from Aziminil, she has plenty to spare. This shape is easy for the two of them.’
Mogget did not tell her that he had an uneasy feeling all along his backbone and up his tail, a feeling compounded by a look around the back of the chair. There was a small speck high on the horizon behind them. It was a long way away, but it was a Paperwing, flying as fast or faster than the dragon.
‘No,’ said Clariel. She touched the mask again with her left hand, sliding her gauntleted fingers up the cold metal to her forehead. She could feel nothing behind it, not the faintest glimmer of the Charter. But the baptismal mark must still be there, she told herself. It was just too difficult to feel through the woven stone of the gauntlets and the thick bronze of the mask. Kargrin, or Ader, they could help her, once her task was done. But she must not make it worse.
She had already forgotten the sword she held across her lap, her hand tight around its hilt. There were no Charter marks on that gauntlet now, and the material was becoming thin, her skin almost visible beneath.
‘Fly to the west of the city, and approach the Palace from that direction. We must avoid Coiner’s Hill and there are … there were ships to the north of the Palace – they may also have bolt-throwers.’