Demon of the Black Gate

Cerra felt adrift after the demon’s presence was torn from her yet again. The isolation on the boat added to her funk. She felt as though she was confined to a cell in some dank, noisome prison. There was little in the romance of the seas at this moment. Everything moved, including her. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted solid ground.

The crew was likewise willing to leave her to herself. The sight of her crying out to the tempest had given them pause. They didn’t know the nature of their passenger, and though she was unerringly courteous to them, there was the germ of suspicion that she had powers they couldn’t understand. The murmuring of ‘witch’ flavored their thoughts. They were anxious even, to have her off the boat.

Cerra eventually restored herself enough to feel her way from the stifling cabin, returning to the fresh airs of the open deck. It was during the third night that Cerra caught the scent of land bourne out on the light breezes of the night.

“We’re coming to land soon”, she commented to Kamir. Other than his occasional forays into the bilges in search of vermin, he maintained his vigil with Cerra, though much of that was sleeping. Cerra wished she could sleep as much right now.

The captain overheard her remark. As experienced as he was, he had not yet caught the faint observation of the breeze. He knew from his reckoning that they were near land and his position properly north of the Strait of Tears. He expected to catch sight of the low horizons by morning. Her acumen gave him pause yet again, but unlike the crew, he had seen too much to be fearful of what he didn’t know. While he wondered about this blind woman, he didn’t fear her.

“You are right. Land is not far away. With fair winds, you’ll be at port before supper.”

She murmured her thanks. The idea of land appealed to her, but she knew the port that awaited was the busiest in the world, in the grand capital of Abbysin.

She had not one notion what she would do there or where she could go. She had at times felt isolated in her blindness, but never for long. There was too much delight in all she experienced for that. But now she felt truly detached. There would be countless people, and she would be lost among them. Kamir was there, but what could he do to offer her advice? She scratched at his sleeping head that lay propped on her thigh.

For the next few hours, her world did not change. The sea rolled on beneath the boat as it bellied on the crests and sagged in the troughs. At length, the sailors came active on deck at shouts from the captain and the boat soon shifted from one lean to the other as it changed direction. By her reasoning, they must be making an approach to some harbor.

As if on cue, the captain shouted. “We have made the outer marker. Those coin diggers are hungrier than ever, so make sure the smuggler’s bin is secure, and get the brandy kegs out where they can see ’em.”

Sinjin had passed the felucca during the night as planned. They were still within sight the next morning, for Sinjin wanted to keep its sails visible should they change course.

It was at dawn that a sudden storm materialized over the Oskaran boat. A violent waterspout touched down, more lightning than cloud. Even from the distance, he could see the seas boiling around the boat, and the threatening currents that spiked the waves. The sudden storm concluded when the sizzling spout was drawn up and consumed by a brilliant flash. Sinjin automatically started counting, anticipating a thunderous concussion. The crackling he heard instead was like a thousand tiny firecrackers, the sort children favor at festivals, exploded from very far away. He had little doubt the tempest had something to do with the witch. No, he was sure of it. She had exhibited powers to be wary of.

The captain of his vessel had been sure of his navigation in these familiar seas, and sighted land where he expected, the tall beacon marking the entrance to the Strait of Tears. They were well within time to catch the tide as it ebbed through the Strait and take them inside the great city’s harbor.

Sinjin sat with impatience on the deck as the craft was drawn in the strait. The captain drew up to the customs wharf, and Sinjin waited until the official was engaged before slipping off the boat. He could watch the incoming boats from here. He would not have long to wait for the felucca.

Cerra stood at the rail as the boat drew into the Strait of Tears. The city of the Emperor lay on either side of the narrow strait that wedded the Sultan Sea to the Mernasses Ocean. She listened to the sounds of the thousands of people engaged in activity. She had never seen a city and had no idea how to populate it in her mind. The towering and gleaming minarets, cupolas and domes that graced the skyline remained unseen and unadmired. There were tales she remembered, and a few fanciful images tried to insert themselves in her consciousness, but all she could think of was drone of bees, and so she felt she was entering a hive.

The smells of the ovens and cook fires filtered through surrounded by the sameness of souls that live in tiny houses like a honeycomb. The criers sang out, and she could hear birds flapping from the buildings that she could not see, but feel. The weight of their existence was evident, and the currents of air that shifted as they passed through the edifices. The forest was like this, but there was a different music. Rather than the song created by the lifting of branch and leaf with a wind, here the notes were stone and cloth and the percussion of business. It was a heavy tune that she was not used to.

The captain came up to her.

“Ma’am” he said, taking hold of her left elbow. “It’d be best if you were in your cabin while we take customs. Forgive me for sayin’, but you are a question, and the base weasels they employ for maintaining the customs here love questions. We avoid them, questions and customs jakes both. I have a boat full of brandy and pottery from the Stands and a bilge full of Erosima distillant in bottles. Not that a lady like you would know about that. So we always trade brandy. What those weakboned rice counters also have is a taste for spirits. They won’t bother the deckhouse if the papers are in order and the glass is full. Once their thirst is satisfied and they move to another boat, we’ll move from the customs dock to the traders basin. Then you can come out.”

He guided her around the deck as he spoke. The mention of the pottery reminded her of home, and she well knew the properties of Erosima, she had some vials in her own stores. It was a powerful medicine for women. She had even developed a love potion of her own, though she wouldn’t engage the captain in that conversation. She had thought of talking with officials once she landed, but this small exchange with the captain left her doubting the wisdom of that choice. In Amberland Gap, the Sarif was a genial man who would help anyone. But what would an army of officialdom be in such a place as Abyssin?

She was escorted to the cabin, and she made best use of her quarantine by getting her last few belongings sorted carefully in her bag. She must be ready to travel once again. To where was the question. She would find an Inn or hostel and try to plan from there. She’d had one day so far to summon a solution, and as yet, nothing made sense. No direction seemed capable of offering results.

It wasn’t long before the boat bumped and thudded to a halt, and the shouts and regalling of having landed passed between crew and men awaiting at the pier. She didn’t have to be told when the customs officials arrived. The mood quieted to the very street, and so she could hear the muttering and clumping about as the customs agent loudly harumphed and complained about his busy schedule. As on cue, she heard the captain offering the besieged man some relief, a chair out of the heat, and a small bit of brandy from their stocks.

There wasn’t much for Cerra to pack. The rolling motion of the boat at sea had stopped, yet not completely. She had accustomed herself somewhat to its fluid rise and fall. Here the boat merely quivered and moved reluctantly to the slap of a wake, grinding against the pier. She didn’t have long to wait. She heard the tempo of the moment return and so thought that the official had left the boat. It was only moments later that lines were tossed aboard and the boat floated free. She was more than ready to open the door of the small and stifling cabin. If she had to have made the passage entirely inside that small box she’d have suffered to be sure.

The captain opened the door.

“The son of an awkward beetle was actually in a hurry today. We could have had the stuff stacked on the deck with you wrapped in a banner on top of it and I think the fool would have given us the chops anyway. Here, let me get you on deck. We’re going just across this basin. I’ll leave you on the starboard side … over where we won’t be tying up.”

He guided Cerra on deck. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to a boat. The slender ladders, things on deck, and a shifting one at that. She knew every cut and pitch of her path to the lake. It thankfully didn’t sway beneath her feet.

“Captain. You’ve been here many times. Would you do me the favor of recommending an inn or hostel. I need to recover myself and it is possible I will be here for awhile.”

“Most of the places I know wouldn’t be fit for you, such as the heavens will. But there is a lady I know here that I am friends with on occasion. I don’t do her as much honor as I should, but she would be someone you can trust. I’ll get some bearers or a tanzic to carry you.”

Cerra laid a hand on his shoulder, and let them trace the line of his face. They had the contours she expected ... firm and lean. Kind.

“Thank you, truly. If she is a friend of yours than I shall enjoy her very much, as I have you. When I think of sailing the seas, it is you who will be every captain I shall see.”

The captain felt strangely blessed.

“Stand here” he directed. “We’ll be tied up real quick.” He left her at the rail, and she could feel the boat drifting, as if anticipating rest. Kamir rubbed against her ankles, purring.

Sinjin had guessed correctly, and stood back from the open space on the wharf that the felucca was aiming for. He sat in the carriage, waiting. All he needed was the girl. He would not let her get lost in the city. If he was to take her, this was the moment. Lines flew from the felucca as stevedores and handlers on the docks coaxed their tosses. There were many shouts and a few commonly flavored insults.

The ramp was placed and very little time passed before the red-haired woman was led down the ramp with uncommon grace and deference by the one Sinjin assumed was the captain. She held her head high and straight, carrying a staff in one hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder. She was still robed like a Cerros. Sinjin watched as she took a couple of steps on the dock and crumpled against the captain, who caught her and propped her back on her feet. He held her steady.

For Cerra, the ubiquitous motion of the seas had become somewhat imbued in her, for when she set foot on the docks, there was no movement at all, and the sway in her rhythms suddenly stopped. The ground was again firm, but she was not! It felt like two too many of Amberlands ales. Had the captain not been there to catch her, she would have fallen most certainly.

“It’s ok … you just have to find your land legs again.” the captain chuckled. “It’ll pass in a moment ... or three.”

Cerra thought it another reason not to have a life on a boat. She shouldn’t want to change her legs so often.

“Remain here for the moment.” the captain continued, directing her to a large crate. “One of the crew will muster a cab. I’ll send a letter along with you. She likes hearing from me.” he added with wry amusement.

He left her standing at the end of the pier next to a the convenient perch of the crate to sit on. There were many carriages and drays coming and going. The busy-ness of the hive returned to her mind. The building and shops cast back the sounds of activity and created their own shadows in the noise. The hum of life receded into the distance, and the drone was the same for as far as her ears could take her. The gathered sounds of the city was like the endless cascade of water who noise was the culmination of millions of drops upon a million more.

Sinjin watched as the captain left her. He signaled one of his men and his carriage into motion. The man whipped a large black bag from under his cloak and set off with purpose across the top of the wharf toward the red-haired woman.

Cerra was absorbed in the blanket of sound and smell, so the sudden jangling of carriage tracings was lost on her. Too late she caught the stern rush of a body coming much too close to her. She had just alarmed at the intruding presence when a canvas bag was brought down over her head and then shoulders, pinning her arms close. The air was shoved from her lungs as she was lifted bodily and tossed into a carriage like a sack of grain. The door shut and the wagon surged forward with the crack of the driver’s whip.

Kamir had been sitting at her feet and kicked aside as Cerra was grabbed. He scrambled out of his roll and bounded after the carriage, leaping on the back ribs where baggage was tied.

Cerra still had her cane clutched to her bosom, her arms pinned close to her body by the bag. She felt an unaccountable fury.

“What in the ... flaming hells ... are you doing to me?” she seethed through the musty black sack. She kicked for emphasis.

Sinjin smiled, stepping on her legs. “You are a guest of one of the city masters. It remains to be seen if you are welcome or not.”

“You hardly have to throw me in a bag. Bastard!” Cerra was furious. She was actually swearing. She needed to calm herself, but nothing like this had ever happened to her.

“It is best you do not see where we’re going.”

“Don’t see where I’m going!? Why, you …” Cerra stopped herself. He didn’t realize she was blind. She wasn’t sure why, but she decided to keep that to herself for the moment. It had a calming affect on her. She caught the faintest whiff of medication. “How’s your leg?”

Sinjin was surprised. She knew who he was. He didn’t reply.

“You’ve been following me since I left the Stands.” she added. “Well, maybe now you can leave me off and do something productive with your existence.”

It was hard to express fury inside of a bag, and as she vented she felt a little better. She couldn’t remember being so angry, but she felt control returning.

Sinjin got another surprise. She had known he was following her from the beginning and he knew he had never been less than a day behind throughout his entire tracking.

“You are a witch. There is one who would talk with you. That is all I am to know. That is all I want to know.”

Cerra didn’t know whether to laugh or shout back. She did neither, though a snort of incredulity slipped out. She had never been given to swearing, but she felt she could do so again, and with incredible creativity. She took whatever calming breath the fetid bag afforded her and refrained.

“Well, it is apparent that you don’t know nearly enough. And furthermore, you aren’t ever likely to. Perhaps you’d like the bag. The view is much better in here.”

“Well then, there is one thing I want to know. How did you cross the chasm in the mine?”

“What?! Your horse couldn’t make that jump?” Cerra snorted.

Sinjin decided he had little to gain and likely much to lose in a verbal sparring match with this woman. She would likely cast some witchery upon him if he let her go on.

“Save your retorts for someone else.” he growled. “I am done.”

The journey through the city to Rovinkar’s compound didn’t take long and the rest of the trip was made in silence. The rumblings of the wheels on the cobbles and the vibrations of the hoofs drowned out everything, and Cerra prayed no missing stones would jar the wheels, and thump her head too severely to the floor.

Without warning the carriage jerked to a halt. She heard the scuffle of feet and the door of the carriage thrown open. Her captor climbed out and she was tugged from the floor of the carriage only to be dropped to the ground.

“Carry her to the cells.” growled Sinjin.

“I can walk!” Cerra said indignantly. She tried to rise and squirm her protest, but she was well trussed by the bag.

“And don’t listen to her.” added Sinjin. “She can lose the bag when she’s locked up.”

Cerra was hauled away, the two men carrying her like a rug. Her mind was racing as she was carted inside, and taken down a flight of stairs. Even in the bag, Cerra could sense the coolness of the place, and one that never saw much light. They walked straight, turning once before stopping. They dropped her on the ground with little concern. She heard a heavy bar lift and the creak of hinges.

“Imbeciles” she muttered with a cold fury.

They hauled her in, dropping her again on the stone floor.

“Excuse me for I just insulted imbeciles everywhere.” she grumbled again. There was no reply only retreating footsteps and the sound of a heavy door thudding shut. Her shoulder was aching from taking the blows of being dropped. She wiggled out of the bag, pulling it over her head and flinging it away from her.

“Hey!” she shouted, and punctuated that by placing two fingers to her lips and screeching out a short whistle. She heard the piercing note die out. There was no one running back. The footsteps retreated back up the long flight and into grim silence.

Cerra pushed back her hair.

“Grrr.” she growled, looking for a little courage. She was still fuming. “Well this solves where I’m going to stay tonight.”

She felt much too vulnerable, and now even Kamir was gone.

“Ohh … Kamir …” escaped her lips, a mournful voice that cried out before she realized she spoke.

Kamir had jumped from the carriage, leaping the distance from the roof of the cart to the wall. The black cat hunkered down, and watched as Cerra was carried into the courtyard and out of sight. He crouched back along the wall to a spot shaded by an arbor and took up a vigil watching the courtyard, a black presence in the shadows, waiting.

It wasn’t long before the cat heard a piercing whistle. A sound he knew. He turned and stared down the wall, jade green eyes unblinking. Dark openings sat close to the ground. Places that prey could be found.

Kamir leapt up into the branch whose shade masked his lookout. He wove to the thick trunk and took his time before descending, alert for any enemy, waiting until no beings moved. The sleek black cat finally left the tree, a quick scramble head first, and bounded across the courtyard to the narrow gap between the thick wall and the outermost edge of the building.

The openings were small grills, set with iron bars. The base of the hole was level with the ground and extended up the wall two hand spans. Kamir stuck his head in the first and didn’t linger, but moved to the next opening. He barely stopped long enough to look in, head bobbing around the inset bars, ears twitching. At the third opening he stopped and immediately stuck his head in. He backed out long enough to rub his neck against the bars, then ducked his head back in and meowed.

Cerra nearly jumped. Kamir! A yowl he normally reserved for when he was irritated. The call came from above her head.

“Oh Kamir.” she felt relief sweep over her. She pushed herself to her feet.

The cat meowed again, a more regular call, but she felt an impatience with it. It was high up on the wall. She couldn’t tell if there was any path down for him, but she imagined that the walls must be very straight and without shelf to aid the climb of a prisoner.

Kamir meowed again, a quieter mewl. She felt her way to the wall under the sound. She heard another short meow that sounded thin against the dull stone of the room. The cat looked back and forth, as if judging the distance. Cerra judged that if she could stand on her own shoulders she could still not reach him, She felt the wall, and her hand grabbed a set of chains that were attached by a heavy ring.

“I guess it could be worse.” she said with some relief.

She quickly bent and grabbed her walking stick and the bag her kidnappers had wrapper her in, loosely knotting it at the end of her cane. She edged back to the wall and held the cane as far as she could above her head.

She encouraged the cat. “Kamir. Kamir!” She heard a throaty growl and knew he was readying a leap. It nearly knocked her down when it came, a set of paws plunged into the bag, careened onto her head, shoulders and ground in all one motion of a controlled fall. She heard a scurrying roll and barely had time to toss the stick and bundle aside when the cat started pushing and weaving against her, boiling with a strong purr. She dropped to her knees.

“You are such a prince of a cat.” she said, tears forming in her sightless eyes.She gathered the cat up and hugged it fiercely.

#

Rovinkar was in his study when Sinjin was shown in by the silent valet Rovinkar had employed, a lesson learned from Chenli. The servant bowed out.

“Your package is delivered, in the guest quarters, as directed.” Sinjin noticed that the wizard seemed to have aged a lot since he had last seen him in the Vale of the Houri.

“You have done well.” Rovinkar motioned to a bag of coins sitting at his writing table. “Your fee.”

“I’m not sure your original stipend is adequate. But I’ll take it and be done with it.” Sinjin said quietly. “She has unnatural powers. I deal with the things of man. I learned about her. And I learned something else that may help your armies.” he added, taking the few paces to the desk and picking up the bag. “She is yours now. I’ll see what the khans think of the rest.”

“Of what powers do you speak?”

“There is a lot of mystery about her. Things that I call witchcraft. You may know differently. All I know is she can apparently fly if she needs too, she has powers over the animals. Even the plains riders, the Cherros, could not hold her as one of there own, and you know what they are like.”

Sinjin thought of the gems he had gathered in the firepits. He decided against revealing that bit of information. It would surely cost him the stones.

“I was only able to catch her at your doorstep, so you now know as much as I. Probably more. As to the khans, I’ll take my chances ... and I’ll take my money and my leave.”

“Speak to all the ears you want. Maybe they’ll buy you a flagon of wine for your trouble.” said Rovinkar with irritation. “But if you want one with the ability to respond … and pay … I can make you wealthy, as well as a friend to the palace. Your choice.”

Sinjin saw no reason not to let the man be the buyer of his information. He had been seen many times in the company of the Chancellor.

“The Black Gate is not the only way into the Stands. I’ll tell the rest when those ears are listening. You know how to find me.”

Sinjin turned to leave. Rovinkar could do nothing more at the moment.

Rovinkar was using too much of his energy trying to contain the demon. Any political maneuvering or distractions would cost him dearly until the demon was locked in the obsidian.

“It will be very soon. Until then, you would do well not to dilute the wealth of your information by speaking of it. It is of no value if it is common tavern chatter.”

“Have no fear of that.” Sinjin left without any obsequious bow or acknowledgement.

Rovinkar thought of the woman. He would have to talk with her. The assassin Sinjin was correct in assessing her as a woman of power. She had subverted his control over the demon. She may have the key, may be the key, in returning the demon to its cage. If not, her death would eliminate the hold she had on the demon. He would not risk bringing her to his private chambers, where powerful magics lay tended.