The Malmillard Codex by K.G. McAbee Page B

crew that they
had landed just to the south of the city of Lakazsh. A messenger
had been sent to the city on a hastily rigged raft, and it was only
a matter of time, the captain kept repeating, before a ship arrived
to take them the rest of the way.
    Many of the passengers had survived the
storm, as well as a good portion of the crew. The galley slaves,
naturally, had perished, save for a pair who had managed to slip
their emaciated ankles from the manacles that bound them to their
stations.
    But by the second day, Madryn had given up
all hope of finding Daemon alive. The great black stallion had been
housed under a temporary shelter on the afterdeck, tied down to
prevent him from breaking a leg on the rolling, tossing ship. After
the storm struck, no one had the time or the opportunity to check
on his condition. The last time any of the survivors remembered
seeing the horse was just before a huge wave broke over the
stern.
    Val hated to think of the stallion being
gone. He offered his clumsy condolences to Madryn on the third day,
laying a hand on her arm.
    Madryn looked at him, her violet-gray eyes
heavy with unshed tears.
    "Thank you, Val," she murmured.
    Then she had spoken no more of Daemon.
    ***
    A ship hove into view on the morning of the
sixth day. Val awakened with the sunrise, tired and confused from
his uneasy night spent as another man. He looked around at once for
Madryn. She slept near him every night, within touching distance,
often waking him for sips of water when his restless dreaming woke
her. Once he'd had a fever raging through him, his body racked with
chills; Madryn clung to him, the heat of her body soothing him in
his pain.
    But Madryn spoke little during the passing
days. Her eyes were glued to the sea, or fixed with a calculating
air on the rough, rocky cliffs that rose above their beach. Val
could tell that she was counting the days left before the great
yearly caravan left Lakazsh for the south; the caravan that she was
determined to be a member of, at whatever cost.
    So Val was very glad to see the rescue ship
come into view. It was indeed the one promised by Captain Zenobio,
and the survivors were loaded into the ship's boats and taken
aboard before the sun was fully overhead.
    Madryn and Val were in the last boat.
Madryn's eyes were fixed on the shore behind them.
    Val knew she still hoped for a glimpse of a
huge black horse.
    ***
    The trip from the wreck site took two days.
Captain Zenobio was right again, his navigation skills as accurate
as he'd promised. Late on the second day, the thickly settled
shores of the trading capital of Lakazsh D'Nali came into view.
    The city of Lakazsh, capital and main port
of the mighty land, was as different from Karleon as it was
possible for a city to be. Through its center, long broad streets
paved with flat stones bisected the city into huge squares,
thronged with elegant houses and tree-filled gardens. Near the
bustling harbor, littered with ships, the streets were narrower,
though still paved with the same wide block of gray stone. Nobles'
carriages pulled by teams of matched horses shared road space with
less elegant equipages hauling high-stacked piles of cargo to the
great marketplace at the north end of the metropolis.
    Madryn had been here before; it was evident.
Val scrambled to keep up with her as she walked down a lane leading
away from the harbor. They crossed streets, passed businesses,
glanced at shops, and all the while Val thought how familiar was
this city that he had never visited.
    But he had visited it, he realized—only not
as Valerik the slave. No, not he, but Lord Valaren Starseeker had
once been a denizen of these teeming streets, these elegant
houses.
    Madryn paced on her long legs as if she were
late for a most important appointment. Val kept up, though his
equally long legs were soon aching, grown soft after their two lazy
days at sea. He noted, with little surprise, that they were on
their way to the southernmost gate in the