Then, on a low hill, Galen stopped suddenly. Raffi sank down, too sore to be glad, doubled over the stitch in his side. It was a while before he lifted his head, breathing deeply.

Below them lay Darkness. A valley of night. Tall spires rose out of it here and there; far, far in the distance strange domes were shadowed with steams and vapours. The blackness was heavy; it stretched as far as he could see. Behind him Carys brushed back her muddy hair; Galen stood upright, saying nothing.

They all knew this was Tasceron.

The Wounded City

The Wounded City

16

Tasceron, O Tasceron.

I mourn you, my city.

Your great halls are broken open;

The Darkness has come over you.

Rats eat the finery of your kings.

The Lament for Tasceron

CARYS CRAWLED BACK around the tangle of thorns and sucked a scratched hand. ‘Useless,’ she muttered. ‘They’re searching every pack and waggon, looking at everyone’s papers. I got close enough to listen. We’ll never get in this way.’

If anything, Raffi was relieved. He peered through the branches at the city gate. It was a gaunt, dark turret, jutting from the wall, and through the gloom that seemed to seep from it he could make out muffled men and a short line of waggons waiting to pass through.

‘Bringing food?’ he wondered.

‘Probably.’ Galen stared out, his eyes moving along the line. Then he glanced up at the walls. The double ramparts of the Evil City were huge and black; smooth, Maker-built. There was no chink or window in them; the great stones stretched away into the eerie dark, and Raffi guessed they ran like that for miles, endless miles. The travellers might walk along them for weeks and not find a breach.

‘And if we did it would only be guarded,’ he muttered aloud.

Galen turned, squatting. In the murk his face was only an edge of shadow, but when he spoke Raffi knew that harsh, determined tone, and felt instantly uneasy.

‘I have an idea. It’s dangerous, but it seems the only way. These waggons –’

‘We’re not going to hide in one!’ Raffi caught his arm. ‘Galen, they search them! Stab the flour sacks!’

‘Not inside.’ Galen shook him off, irritably. ‘Underneath.’

They were silent. He went on quickly. ‘They’re strong, and small. The axle bars don’t look too far apart, and there’s a wooden brace between them. We should be able to crawl above it and lie there, just under the planks.’

‘It’s crazy,’ Raffi breathed.

‘What about your leg?’ Carys asked.

The keeper glared at her. ‘I’ll manage. Once we’re all through the guard-post we drop off and meet.’ He nodded at a tall spire that rose in the darkness. ‘That building. Or as near to it as we can get. Understand?’

Carys thought, then nodded, reluctant.

‘Raffi?’

Shaking his head, he said, ‘There’s got to be a better way…’