Lirael (Old Kingdom Book 2) by Garth Nix

Author:Garth Nix [Nix, Garth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sam Makes Up His Mind

Despite his good intentions, Sam overslept and missed Touchstone’s departure from the Palace. Thinking that he might catch him at the South Gate, he ran down Palace Hill and then along the broad, tree-lined Avenue of Stars, named after the tiny metal suns embedded in its paving stones. Two guards ran with him, easily keeping pace despite the weight of their mail hauberks, helmets, and boots.

Sam had just sighted the rear ranks of his father’s escort when he heard the cheers of the crowd and the sudden blare of trumpets. He jumped up on a cart that was stopped in the traffic and looked over the heads of the crowd. He was just in time to see his father ride out through the high gate of Belisaere, red and gold cloak streaming behind him over the horse’s hindquarters, the early sun just catching his crown-circled helmet before he passed into the shadow of the gate.

Royal guards rode in front of and behind the King, twoscore tall men and women, bright mail flashing from the vertical cuts in their red and gold surcoats. The guards would continue north tomorrow, Sam knew, with someone dressed as Touchstone. The King would actually be flying south to Ancelstierre with Sabriel, to try to forestall the death of two hundred thousand innocents.

Sameth kept watching even after the last guard passed the gate and the normal traffic resumed; people, horses, wagons, donkeys, pushcarts, pullcarts, beggars . . . all flowed past him, but he didn’t notice.

He had missed Touchstone, and now he would have to make up his mind all on his own.

Even when he crossed to the center of the road and turned against the tide flowing out of the city, his gaze was absent. Only the vacuum created around him by two burly guards prevented several pedestrian accidents.

Since Sam had started to think about going to find Nicholas, he found that he couldn’t stop. He was sure that the letter was real. Sam was the only one who knew Nick well enough to track him down, the only one with a friendship bond that finding magic could flow through.

The only one who could save him from whatever trouble was brewing for everyone around the Red Lake.

But that meant Sam would have to leave Belisaere, abandoning his duties. He knew that Ellimere would never give him permission.

These thoughts, and multiple variations of them, swirled through his mind as he and his guards passed under one of the huge aqueducts that fed the city with pure, snow-melt water. The aqueducts had proved their worth in other ways, too. Their fast-flowing waters were a defense against the Dead, particularly during the two centuries of the Interregnum.

Sameth thought of that, too, as he heard the deep bellow of the aqueduct above his head. For a moment his conscience twinged. He was supposed to be a defense against the Dead himself.

He left the cool shadow of the aqueduct and began heading along the Avenue of Stars before the wearying climb up the switchbacked King’s Road that led to Palace Hill.

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