The Rogue Knight Page 5

  “I’m not looking for friends or guides,” Cole said. “Just leave me alone.”

  The man’s eyes switched to a spot above and beyond Cole. The man gave a faint nod. Cole looked back in time to see another man lunge at him. Jabbing his sword at a drooping balcony across the street, Cole spoke the command and jumped.

  Hands reached for him, but they arrived too late. Cole took flight and barely cleared the scarred railing to land three floors above the ground. Both men gawked up at him from below, mouths gaping.

  “You don’t see that every day,” the stubbly man said. “Who’d have guessed he was some kind of shaper?”

  The other man gave a dismissive wave and trudged away, shaking his head. They didn’t seem to be partners. Acquaintances maybe. The other guy had sensed easy prey and had wanted in on the action.

  Aiming his sword at the roof of the building across the street, Cole jumped there. From the higher vantage point, he had a better view of the area, though taller buildings blocked the sight of East Carthage. He ran along the roof and sprang to another building, then another.

  It was freeing and exhilarating to watch the shabby streets breeze by beneath his feet, and for a moment, he actually let go of his anxiety and just enjoyed the sensation of soaring. Who could catch him when he had his Jumping Sword?

  Cole worked his way toward a nicer neighborhood. On the sixth roof, he noticed a woman watering her plants. She stared at him with wide eyes.

  “Just passing through,” Cole called in his friendliest voice.

  Her surprised expression turned scolding. “You’re going to stab your eye out.”

  Cole laughed and jumped again, sword outstretched toward the next desired rooftop. What a crazy world it was where a woman showed more worry about him poking his eye out with a sword than she did about him taking fifty-yard leaps from one building to another.

  He avoided major roads, sailing over side streets and alleyways instead. Even so, some people down below looked up at him; others spotted him from balconies or windows; and a few saw him from the tops of buildings. And those were just the people Cole noticed! In Sambria, the sight of a kid leaping from one building to another might not seem impossible, but it still attracted attention. Cole liked that the sword let him travel quickly, putting distance between himself and Ansel, but he knew he needed to get back to the ground. Everyone who saw him flying across the rooftops became a possible resource to those who wanted to find him.

  Cole reached the intersection of two main boulevards. To proceed by rooftop, he would have to jump one of the teeming avenues, exposing himself to hundreds of eyes, so instead he backtracked and hopped down into a quiet alley.

  Although the sun was climbing higher, it remained low enough for Cole to tell east from west. As he continued eastward, the buildings rose taller. Some were apartments or inns. Others looked like private palaces sandwiched into the city, their grounds confined behind iron fences or stout masonry.

  Some of the buildings were a little more mysterious. A huge domed structure with many minarets might have been a house of worship or a museum. A gray compound with thick towers, heavy arches, and crenellated walls could have served as a military headquarters or a prison. A light, airy complex with terraced gardens, elevated walkways, and huge-windowed buildings might have been a school or a library.

  Much of the city looked how Cole pictured the Middle Ages. But some of the architecture felt a little more modern, and some didn’t look much like anything he had seen back on Earth. One building was shaped like a pyramid, but with an open, pillared floor between each level, like stacked patios. He passed a windowless black monolith with no visible entrance. Another structure seemed to be made entirely of stained glass, and bulged with overlapping bulbous shapes, reminding Cole of when he used to blow through a straw into a glass of milk until the bubbles overflowed.

  As he got farther east, more of the buildings looked like they must have been constructed by shapers. Not only were their forms unusual, but many were seamless, as if carved from a single mountainous stone. Some exteriors were smooth with simple lines and minimal embellishments. Others featured intricate facades. Autocoaches became more prevalent, and some of the shops mentioned renderings or semblances on the signs.

  And then the city ended.

  Cole reached a long greenway that paralleled a wide, slow river. The surface of the water was perhaps sixty feet below the level of the greenway, flanked by stone walls instead of banks.

  If the architecture on this side of the river had been impressive, the other side looked absolutely unreal. The river wall on the far side was the color of storm clouds, with bright strands of lightning flashing across it on occasion. Fanciful buildings rose to surreal heights, shimmering with electric colors. Huge shapes balanced on slender supports, and ponderous projections overhung empty space with no regard for the laws of physics.

  Mira had mentioned that the Ellowine enchanters worked with illusions. Though the buildings appeared completely solid, some of what he saw had to be deception.

  Running north to south, the river effectively divided the city. Cole supposed that the far side must be East Carthage. From where he stood, Cole could see two bridges spanning the river. Down by the water, docks protruded here and there on both sides. Workers wrestled cargo onto long, flat barges. Some of those docks might have ferries for crossing the river, but the bridges struck Cole as the surer option.

  Turning north, he followed the greenway toward the nearest bridge. It was a pleasant walk. The strip of lawn and trees along the river provided a place for toddlers to play, dogs to fetch, old folks to sit, and many to stroll. It would have been a great place to ride his bike. He wondered whether they had bikes in Carthage. He hadn’t seen any.

  As the bridge drew nearer, Cole frowned. Crossing it would be dangerous. If Ansel anticipated him going to East Carthage, the bridges would be the most obvious routes to watch. But East Carthage wasn’t Cole’s only option. He could have fled to the Sambrian countryside or hidden someplace in West Carthage.

  Cole wished he had more information. How many slavers did Ansel currently have at his command? Ham was in town. How many others? All of them? And how long would it take Ansel to mobilize them?

  Since his encounter with Ansel, Cole had come east by the most direct route he could find, using the Jumping Sword part of the way. Even if Ansel had enough men to cover all options, Cole might be ahead of any pursuers. The more time went by, the more likely it was that Ansel could position slavers at key locations like the bridges. Cole sped up.

  The impressive bridge was carved from the same dark green stone as the city wall. Decorated with friezes and traceries, it looked the same all the way across. Did that mean the border to Elloweer was on the far side? The elaborate bridge had minimal supports, so it had probably been made by shaping. Though wide enough for wagons, the span was packed with people on foot, about half heading east, half west. A pair of soldiers rode across on horseback.

  Alert for familiar faces, Cole started across the bridge. Vendors lined the edges, their wares spread out on blankets. They called out to the pedestrians, luring their attention toward melons, marionettes, sausages, and tiny wooden deer that walked around on their own.

  On the Elloweer side, Cole’s best weapon would be rendered useless. He hated the possibility of getting chased with no Jumping Sword to help him, but he had to get to the fountain, and the longer he waited, the riskier the crossing to Elloweer would become. Cole did his best to merge with the thickest clusters of people. He found a big man to follow and got close behind him.

  At the midpoint of the bridge, Cole noticed a sign that read ELLOWEER in bright letters. Looking back, a sign facing the opposite direction announced SAMBRIA.

  When Cole passed the ELLOWEER sign, for an instant he felt almost weightless, and tingles fizzed through him. His ears popped. Otherwise he felt no differently. The bridg
e looked the same. And the signs seemed to only mark the border. Maybe the bridge had been built the old-fashioned way. Or maybe the Elloweer side used an illusion to make it match the Sambria side. If so, it was very well done.

  Peddlers and their blankets continued to border the bridge, but the merchandise was now incredible. One man had bowls of beautifully cut gems, ranging from the size of marbles to the size of eggs. Sparkling in the sunlight, they looked very authentic. Another man displayed an assortment of parrots with the brightest plumage Cole could have imagined. A third merchant hawked objects made of pure gold. But since nobody else gave the exotic goods a second look, Cole figured they must be illusions.

  Near the far side of the bridge Cole saw an act that made him slow down. A young man sat on a woven mat with his legs crossed. Holding one arm straight out, he clutched a long bamboo pole vertically without letting it touch the ground. An older man started to climb the pole while the young man continued to serenely hold it upright. The older man flipped himself upside down and balanced atop the pole on one hand. In front of the mat was a bowl with ringers in it. A couple of insistent kids bothered their parents until they each got a copper bit to donate.

  Illusion or not, Cole had never seen a street performance to rival it, and he would have paused to add a ringer of his own if he’d had one handy. Instead, he picked up his pace again, head down to partly conceal his face, eyes furtively studying the crowd.

  Cole tried not to show his relief as he walked off the far side of the bridge. Nobody had stopped him, and he had seen none of the slavers from the caravan.

  The road from the bridge emptied into a large square. In the center of the square, fenced off by a low, crystal wall, eight marble statues of young women frolicked together with loose choreography, their movements graceful and carefree. As Cole watched the prancing statues, he realized that their motions repeated about every minute and figured they were on an automatic loop.

  The lofty buildings around the square competed for attention. One appeared to be constructed entirely of gold and silver. Another featured moving murals—monstrous figures engaged in fierce combat. A third rippled with ever-changing swirls of color, a prismatic display that made Cole think of molten rainbows.

  Amazed by the sights, but anxious to get away from the busy area, Cole went down one of the lesser streets that branched out from the square. He needed to find the fountain with seven spouts, but had no idea where to start looking. The east side of Carthage seemed just as sprawling as the west.

  Strange figures moved among the crowd, drawing less attention than Cole would have expected: a tall, graceful woman with the slit pupils and furry ears of a cat; a heavyset man with blue spikes protruding all over his body; a woman with feathery wings like an angel; a man whose head was way too large for his body. Cole tried not to stare. Their appearances could be illusions. Or maybe, like Twitch, they were truly different from regular humans.

  “Hey, kid, try your luck,” said a man seated behind a crate with a blanket on it. Short and trim with a neat little mustache, he spoke in a raspy tenor. Three upside-down cups rested on the blanket.

  “Sorry, not today,” Cole replied.

  “Come on,” the man said. “You’re loaded. It’s easy.”

  “I’m not loaded,” Cole said.

  The man gave him a skeptical look and motioned him closer. Cole leaned in and the guy lowered his voice a little. “You’ve got ringers tied around your legs, kiddo.”

  Feeling startled and foolish, Cole checked for obvious bulges in his pants legs. They looked all right.

  “You didn’t do a bad job,” the man said. “Most people wouldn’t notice. I’ve got an eye for details. What do you say? Give it a shot. Easy as picking up money off the street.”

  “None of my money is handy,” Cole said.

  “All that on your legs and nothing in your pocket?” the man asked incredulously.

  “Sorry,” Cole said, turning his pants pockets inside out.

  “Hm,” the man said. “That makes you interesting. I bet you’ve got a story. On the run or something? You look a little young to be a criminal.”

  “But not too young to take my money?”

  “A guy’s gotta eat! What’s your story?”

  Cole shrugged. “I’m just meeting up with some friends.”

  The man grinned, tapping his temple. “I get it. The friends wanted you to take some ringers from one place to another. No questions asked. You deliver the ringers, make a little for yourself. Am I right?”

  “Something like that,” Cole said.

  “So you can’t risk the ringers you’re carrying,” the man said. “In a way, you were telling me the truth. You’re broke until you make your delivery.”

  “Pretty much,” Cole said.

  “I don’t suppose you’ll come back this way after you get paid,” the man mused.

  “I can’t afford to risk my money,” Cole said.

  “How about a freebie?” the man suggested. “It’s been slow today.”

  Cole glanced down the street in the direction he had been headed. He didn’t want to get roped into some sort of con.

  “No strings attached,” the man assured him. “Pick a cup.”

  “Okay.” Lifting the middle one, Cole uncovered a translucent blue marble. “Now what?”

  “Replace it.”

  Cole covered the marble.

  The man smiled. “I haven’t touched anything yet. Only you did. Agreed?”

  Cole gave a nod.

  “You watching?” the man asked. Sliding the cups with no great haste, he switched the middle cup with the left one. “All right. Guess where the ball is.”

  Cole pointed at the left cup, which had been in the middle.

  “Want to bet that money you’re carrying?” the man asked. “If you’re right, I’ll double it. You can deliver their share and keep yours.”

  “No thanks,” Cole said.

  “You sure? I’m good for it. Final offer.”

  “It’s not mine to bet,” Cole said.

  “Fair enough,” the man said. He lifted the cup on the right. There was nothing beneath it. The cup in the middle had nothing as well. “Try the one you chose.”

  Picking it up, Cole revealed a small bird with brown feathers and a yellow breast. The little bird hopped twice and then flew away, tiny wings flapping.

  “I had a feeling I would have lost,” Cole said.

  Grinning, the man quickly turned over the cup on the right and handed it to Cole. The cup was full of blue marbles. “Trust those feelings, kid. When something looks too good to be true, it is. All the locals know better than to get involved in a shell game. I set up near Gateway Square to welcome the visitors, teach them a practical lesson or two. I haven’t seen you around. New to town?”

  “Pretty new,” Cole replied.

  “Tell me about these guys you’re working for,” the man said. “Could they use a fellow like me?”

  “I don’t really know a lot about them,” Cole said. “They’re kind of mysterious.”

  The man sighed. “Life in East Carthage.”

  “Hey, maybe you can help me,” Cole tried. “I’m looking for a fountain with seven spouts.”

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  “It would save me some time. It’s part of the delivery process. I haven’t gone around counting the fountain spouts.”

  “You think I do?”

  “Maybe. You’re good with details. I could mention your help to the guys I work for.”

  The man gave him a pensive stare. “You seem like a good kid. You’re trying to make some extra ringers. I can appreciate that. You want Lorona Fountain. It’s a long walk, but not complicated.” He gave Cole an explanation that involved four turns. “Got it?”

  Cole repeated the directions back to him.

 
“Good,” the man said. “If you come to know and trust these people, tell them I helped you. Until then, be careful. Taking ringers from one location to another may seem like easy money. But when something looks too good to be true . . .”

  “I hear you,” Cole said, feeling a little guilty about misleading him. For a shyster, the guy seemed like a decent person. “Thanks for the advice. And the directions.”

  “Around your chest might be better,” the man said. “For the ringers. You can hide any bulges under enough layers to mask them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Cole said, starting down the street. He mentally repeated the instructions as he went and kept his eyes open for the first intersection where he needed to turn.

  The farther away Cole went from the river, the less fanciful the buildings appeared. Although he continued to spot bizarre people, the city itself began to look more normal.

  He came to Lorona Fountain without missing a turn. The fountain served as the centerpiece of a modest plaza bordered by narrow streets and the plastered walls of residential buildings. Four cherubic statues played in the basin. Three of the pudgy cherubs clutched a shell in each hand, while the central one held a single shell over his head. Unlike some of the other statues Cole had seen in East Carthage, these were stationary. Each shell sprayed water.

  The man had been correct. This fountain had seven spouts. Hopefully, that made it unique in East Carthage.

  Cole didn’t see any of his friends. He felt a jolt of worry. What if something had happened to them? Shouldn’t they have had time to get here first? He supposed he had hurried quite a bit with the Jumping Sword. What would he do if they didn’t show up? He became acutely aware of how little he wanted to explore the five kingdoms on his own. In a foreign place like Elloweer, he would feel totally adrift.

  Not wanting to look too conspicuous, he went and sat on a bench in the shade. Before long, his weariness began to catch up with him. The gentle splashing of the fountain didn’t help.

  What were the chances of Ansel or one of his men happening by? Cole surveyed the area carefully. He was on the other side of the city from where Ansel had spotted him. This plaza was relatively small and had little traffic. Joe must have chosen it for its anonymity. Ansel would be watching the main roads and bridges. And he would probably be more focused on West Carthage.