block past where Su-Cha said the assassin had turned. Rider said, "We'll go this way," and turned the opposite direction. That put them round the corner of a wall, out of view of the man who followed.
Rider reached into the web and drew power, hastily spun images of himself and Su-Cha. He did not have time to weave them well. In ten minutes they would begin floating between steps and leaking light through their bodies.
Rider swarmed up the wall, Su-Cha at his heels. From the wall's top, Rider said, "Lead him along. Work your way back to the chariots. Lose him, then take the way Su-Cha pointed out," all in a rush. The web told him the watcher was nearby.
Tentative footsteps rounded the corner. Rider peeked carefully. The man seemed satisfied he was on the right track.
Rider reached into the web, seeking a watcher of the watcher. He found one quickly. "Another one coming," he breathed.
This man's steps indicated great self-confidence. Rider let him pass, raised his head carefully. A man of Shai Khe's race. He murmured, "Mark him carefully, Su-Cha. If we lose the horses we can follow him."
"Rider."
Su-Cha's tone said they had trouble. Rider shifted and looked.
A night gardener squatted among moon poppies, milk pot and milking fork in hand, gaping at them. He did not seem inclined to cause a fuss. Maybe he thought he'd caught an inadvertent whiff of pollen.
The oriental tracker's attention was directed in front of himself. Rider cast a small glamor that left the gardener shaking. He would be sure he had breathed pollen.
"He's out of sight," Su-Cha said. "Let's go."
Rider jumped down. Su-Cha floated. They trotted into the street down which the assassin had departed his handiwork. Rider left a small chalk mark at each crossway, to indicate which direction he had gone.
The trail departed the Balajka district and its quiet, almost untenanted streets, dipping into an area occupied by merchants, tending downhill toward the Golden Crescent. The quality of their surroundings deteriorated. The farther they descended, the busier the night became, despite the hour.
Rider slowed the pace. He kept a greater part of his attention in the web, observing his surroundings. Su-Cha he charged with using his preternaturally sharp eyes and nose. In crowds like these it would be hard to spot Shai Khe's confederates. Dawn found them very near the waterfront, in a warehouse district. The assassin had travelled a long way.
XX
Pure good luck attended Spud and Soup. They slipped a boat away unnoticed, caught a brisk breeze, made a landfall not a half mile from a legionary encampment. The prefect of the camp was a friend of Rider and Jehrke. Within an hour they were crossing the Bridge of the World aboard the legion's courier airship. First light was just starting to limn the City when they stepped down into the jungle of the military yards.
Though they were as far from the exit gate as they could get, they grinned at one another and set off jauntily. Spud whistled as he walked.
Minutes later Spud's tune died behind Soup's hand. Both ducked into shadows.
Soft voices approached. They saw men moving quickly, cautiously, probing shadows with shielded lights, arguing.
"Those knobbly guys again," Spud said. "What're they doing here?"
"Right now they're looking for a whistler."
Spud reddened. "Let's get them."
"I admire your confidence. Nevertheless, the odds aren't exciting for one of my delicate sensibilities." There were six gnarly men, none of whom were completely alert. They were going through the motions of a search, complaining.
"Let's even them up, then." Spud vanished, moving with feline silence.
Soup sighed. Spud was in one of his moods. He would not give it up till he bashed a few heads.
Or got bashed himself. Soup retreated the way he had come. Twenty feet back, he kicked a wooden support away from an airship cradle still under construction. He ducked behind the cradle.
The noise brought the gnarly men his way.
Spud stepped
Rider reached into the web and drew power, hastily spun images of himself and Su-Cha. He did not have time to weave them well. In ten minutes they would begin floating between steps and leaking light through their bodies.
Rider swarmed up the wall, Su-Cha at his heels. From the wall's top, Rider said, "Lead him along. Work your way back to the chariots. Lose him, then take the way Su-Cha pointed out," all in a rush. The web told him the watcher was nearby.
Tentative footsteps rounded the corner. Rider peeked carefully. The man seemed satisfied he was on the right track.
Rider reached into the web, seeking a watcher of the watcher. He found one quickly. "Another one coming," he breathed.
This man's steps indicated great self-confidence. Rider let him pass, raised his head carefully. A man of Shai Khe's race. He murmured, "Mark him carefully, Su-Cha. If we lose the horses we can follow him."
"Rider."
Su-Cha's tone said they had trouble. Rider shifted and looked.
A night gardener squatted among moon poppies, milk pot and milking fork in hand, gaping at them. He did not seem inclined to cause a fuss. Maybe he thought he'd caught an inadvertent whiff of pollen.
The oriental tracker's attention was directed in front of himself. Rider cast a small glamor that left the gardener shaking. He would be sure he had breathed pollen.
"He's out of sight," Su-Cha said. "Let's go."
Rider jumped down. Su-Cha floated. They trotted into the street down which the assassin had departed his handiwork. Rider left a small chalk mark at each crossway, to indicate which direction he had gone.
The trail departed the Balajka district and its quiet, almost untenanted streets, dipping into an area occupied by merchants, tending downhill toward the Golden Crescent. The quality of their surroundings deteriorated. The farther they descended, the busier the night became, despite the hour.
Rider slowed the pace. He kept a greater part of his attention in the web, observing his surroundings. Su-Cha he charged with using his preternaturally sharp eyes and nose. In crowds like these it would be hard to spot Shai Khe's confederates. Dawn found them very near the waterfront, in a warehouse district. The assassin had travelled a long way.
XX
Pure good luck attended Spud and Soup. They slipped a boat away unnoticed, caught a brisk breeze, made a landfall not a half mile from a legionary encampment. The prefect of the camp was a friend of Rider and Jehrke. Within an hour they were crossing the Bridge of the World aboard the legion's courier airship. First light was just starting to limn the City when they stepped down into the jungle of the military yards.
Though they were as far from the exit gate as they could get, they grinned at one another and set off jauntily. Spud whistled as he walked.
Minutes later Spud's tune died behind Soup's hand. Both ducked into shadows.
Soft voices approached. They saw men moving quickly, cautiously, probing shadows with shielded lights, arguing.
"Those knobbly guys again," Spud said. "What're they doing here?"
"Right now they're looking for a whistler."
Spud reddened. "Let's get them."
"I admire your confidence. Nevertheless, the odds aren't exciting for one of my delicate sensibilities." There were six gnarly men, none of whom were completely alert. They were going through the motions of a search, complaining.
"Let's even them up, then." Spud vanished, moving with feline silence.
Soup sighed. Spud was in one of his moods. He would not give it up till he bashed a few heads.
Or got bashed himself. Soup retreated the way he had come. Twenty feet back, he kicked a wooden support away from an airship cradle still under construction. He ducked behind the cradle.
The noise brought the gnarly men his way.
Spud stepped
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