Or it could all be a spectacle put on to fool them into thinking that Atlantis still believed them trapped in Lucidias.
Unfortunately, the mountain rose higher behind him and he could not see what was happening elsewhere in Atlantis. And to think these mountains were but gentle hills compared to what awaited them farther inland.
He returned to find Kashkari and Amara, despite their skill, thwarted by the flying carpet’s other great intrinsic weakness: it could only travel so high above ground. They could see a ledge some two hundred feet up. But it was on a sheer cliff without a foothold anywhere, and they simply could not ascend that high on the strength of the carpets alone.
In the end, an exhausted Fairfax summoned a strong and precise air current to lift them past the required height, which allowed them to more or less glide into place—and collapse en masse.
Titus volunteered for the first watch. But the ledge was not big enough for more than two persons to lie down.
“I’ll join you for the watch,” said Kashkari.
Titus tucked a heat sheet around Fairfax. The ledge was not exactly smooth and even; he could not imagine that she was comfortable, even with the thicker battle carpet beneath her. But she was already asleep, her fingers slack in his hand.
Behind him the great waterfall thundered down, generating so much spray that even a quarter mile away stray droplets occasionally struck them. He wiped one such tiny bead of water from her cheek and wished for the ten thousandth time that he could protect her from what was to come.
Eventually he took a seat beside Kashkari and handed the latter a food cube. “The ladies forgot to eat.”
“If I could, I too would sleep now and eat later, rather than the other way around.” Kashkari bit wearily into the food cube. “What did you see?”
Titus described the scene over Lucidias and mentioned his suspicion that it could be all for show.
“While they strengthen the defenses around the Commander’s Palace? That makes sense.”
“I hope the Bane does not decide to move his real body somewhere else.”
Kashkari flicked a few crumbs from his fingers. “That would be unlikely. The Commander’s Palace has provided him with shelter and secrecy for close to a century, if not more. That’s where he feels safest. Not to mention, to move the body, he would have to accept the risk of the transit: he’d be more exposed and more vulnerable than he has been in a long, long time. And what awaits him at the other end can’t be as well fortified as the Commander’s Palace.
“Moreover, the idea of Fairfax coming to him must be terribly exciting. She has proved elusive elsewhere, and the hunt has cost him time and again. But now she’s in his territory. The way he sees it, she’s making a huge mistake and would sooner or later run up against the impenetrability of his defense and be caught. He only has to sit tight and another century of life will fall into his lap—if, that is, he still has a lap left.”
Titus dropped his head to his knees. “That is exactly what will happen, is it not?”
Kashkari was silent for a long time. “But you and I, at least, will still be alive after Fairfax is no more. And that is what we must plan for now.”
Iolanthe must have been asleep for no more than ten minutes when someone shook her on the shoulder. “Wake up, Miss Seabourne. Let the boys have some rest.”
Amara.
Iolanthe pried apart her eyelids and shuddered at the precipitous drop bare inches from where she lay.
“Let her sleep more,” said Titus to Amara, an edge to his voice. “It was not necessary to wake her up.”
“You need your rest,” Amara answered calmly. “If you’re too tired, you’ll become a liability to the rest of us.”
Iolanthe carefully got to her feet so she could switch places with Titus. “She’s right. Sleep.”
As they passed each other, he held her against him for a moment. Nothing of their surroundings seemed quite real, not the roaring waterfall, not the sheer cliffs, not their precarious perch above the scabrous surface far below—and she was so drained she couldn’t even remember how they’d got there.
“So you were not born on the night of the meteor storm, after all,” he murmured.
She vaguely recalled something about not being Lady Callista’s daughter, just plain old Iolanthe Seabourne, who was born six weeks before the meteor storm.