The Walls of Air Page 0,29

started to speak, startled, and he smiled

suddenly, his teeth very white in his beard. 'I believe my predecessor assisted at your wedding, my lady,' he said. Colour flooded into Aide's cheeks that no cold could account for. He continued gently. 'I was captain of his Guards.' He inclined his head to her, a sign of reverence to her rank. There was no irony in his voice as he said, 'Welcome to what is left of the city of Penambra.'

'I'm sorry,' Aide said quietly. 'Please don't think I came - idly, or - or -'

'I do not,' he replied reassuringly. *fiut I assume that, as you did come incognito and without retinue, your visit is less than official.'

Only a fool could have watched the interplay between Alwir and his compliant sister at the Keep gates yesterday and remained ignorant of how the land lay, Gil thought; and this tall, gaunt scarecrow in his ecclesiastical rags did not look like a fool. It was within a few percentage points of certainty that he knew that Aide had come here without the Chancellor's approval or knowledge.

Aide raised her eyes to meet his. 'I'm sorry,' she said again. 'But I couldn't not come.'

'I understand,' Maia said, 'and I thank you for your compassion.' He glanced around them at the camp. Men in the muddy rags of uniforms were making arrows by the warmth of smoky fires; women were tending children as best they could. There was the ripe smell of carrion cooking, the bubbling of thin soups, and the grating, persistent wailing of a child. 'Still and all, I don't advise you to come again. As legal ruler, I can still hold most of us from turning bandit. But by your next visit I may be dead or ousted. Tomorrow you may find yourself dealing with anyone. The Dark have taken a very heavy toll.'

Aide's voice was timid. 'Is Penambra truly destroyed, then? 'Truly,' the Bishop said quietly. 'Close to nine thousand of us left the city with wagonloads of goods, food, and all that we could carry away. You know Penambra - a city of bridges, built on a hundred islets in the bay. Rains flooded the town and trapped us in the cellars; and the Dark haunt those cellars, even in daylight. Half our provisions were lost to floods and half our people to the Dark before we even got clear of the town. Through the delta it was the same. The lands are flooded by the unseasonable rains and by the Dark, who have broken the levees on the rivers. What used to be the richest part of the Realm is deserted or peopled by ghouls who live by plundering the houses of the dead. It lies under terror of the Dark. They carry off as many as they kill outright. Did you know that?'

'Yes,' Aide said. 'I knew.'

He looked at her closely, then nodded. 'If you know that, my lady, and are still among us, you are more fortunate than I had thought.'

He folded long, bony arms. A singularly gentle man, Gil thought, to have been commander of the Church troops. A group of ragged warriors passed them, changing the camp guards, lank, dirty men and women with bows and axes. They saluted him as they walked by.

Maia sighed. 'So. People spoke of the Keep of Dare, the old hold up at Renweth.

In some places, enclaves of farmers have made little Keeps, fortified buildings along the river. Your brother is not the first to turn us away. But even those don't seem to be proof against the Dark. We've found their fortresses smashed like eggshells, the defenders dead or wandering mindlessly. We've been beset by wolf packs, or dog packs hundreds strong. There was even a rumour of White Raiders in the valley... At times on the march here I felt it was the end of the world.' White teeth gleamed briefly through the tangled beard. 'In some ways I think the end of the world would be a simpler matter to deal with. If what the Scriptures tell is true, at least that would be quick.'

'Oh, but it has been quick.' Aide looked around her at the desolate camp, her jewels glittering in her hair as she moved her head. 'This summer all of us were sitting on our terraces, watching the sun in the leaves and dreaming of sledding and parties at the Winter Feast. Now, before the night of the Winter Feast, we may all be dead.