normally came in that way. An innkeeper's daughter noticed things like that.
The thing coming through the wall now, having torn out the transom and burst the gate leaves, was green, barrel-shaped, and taller than the wall. It held a soldier in one of its feathery tentacles and folded another over his face. A twist tore the man apart in a gush of blood.
There were troops in the alley and others pouring into the courtyard from the palace. Everyone was shouting.
The under-captain at the door to the council chamber turned and saw Sharina. "By the Lady!" he cried. "Princess, you've got to get out of here!"
Because this had been a working meeting of Garric's closest advisors, Sharina'd been able to change out of court robes into double tunics not terribly different from what she'd have worn on very formal occasions back in Barca's Hamlet. The fabric was bleached instead of being the natural cream color of 'white' wool, and the sleeves had black appliqués of Ilna's weaving.
Ilna said the patterns were unconsciously soothing to anyone who looked at them. Sharina believed her friend, but given the rancor of some council meetings it was hard to imagine how they could've been much worse.
Between her outer and inner tunics Sharina wore a heavy Pewle knife, her legacy from the hermit Nonnus. He'd used it to save her life at the cost of his own. She didn't carry the knife as a weapon-though she'd used it for one-but rather because touching the hilt's black horn scales invoked the hermit's quiet faith, and that calmed her mind.
She reached through the slit disguised as a pleat in her outer tunic and brought out the knife. Right now it was both a weapon and a prayer.
Half a dozen spears sailed through the air and squelched into the monster, burying in every case the slim iron head and stopping only at the wooden shaft a forearm's length back of the point. The creature continued to advance. The spears wobbled like tubular wasp larvae clinging to the body of a squat green caterpillar.
A soldier just come from the servants' wing dropped his shield and charged with his javelin gripped in both hands. He twisted at the moment of impact to drive the point in, putting all his strength and weight behind the blow. Half the wrist-thick spear shaft penetrated; sludgy green fluid oozed out around the wood.
The soldier's wordless grunt of effort changed to a scream as tentacles wrapped him. The monster lifted him, pulling his limbs off with the same swift dispassion as a cook plucking a goose for dinner. The screams stopped an instant after the fourth bright flag of arterial blood spouted from the victim's joints.
"Use your swords!" an officer shouted. As he spoke, the monster gripped him. He slashed through one of the feathery tentacles, but another tentacle tossed him with seeming ease twenty feet in the air. He didn't scream until he started to fall back toward the alley. Three soldiers who'd started forward at his order backed instead and raised their shields.
The creature crawled forward on hundreds of cilia each no bigger than a man's foot. It was a plant-it had to be a plant; the tentacles were very like fern fronds though huge and hooked with thorns on the underside-but it was a plant from Hell.
Ilna had knotted a pattern from the cords she kept in her left sleeve. She held it up, facing the hellplant.
The creature squished onward, unwrapping a tentacle suddenly to grip a soldier's ankle. He slammed the lower edge of his shield down to cut the frond off against the pavement. Its tip uncurled, leaving a bloody patch above the soldier's heavy sandal. He retreated, his sword up but his face in a rictus of terror.
Chalcus put his left hand on Ilna's shoulder. She tried to shake him off. The sailor kept his grip and shouted, "Come away, dear heart, for you'll do no good here!"
Sharina found herself backing toward the doorway from which she'd entered the courtyard. The hellplant didn't move quickly, but it'd proved it could tear a
The thing coming through the wall now, having torn out the transom and burst the gate leaves, was green, barrel-shaped, and taller than the wall. It held a soldier in one of its feathery tentacles and folded another over his face. A twist tore the man apart in a gush of blood.
There were troops in the alley and others pouring into the courtyard from the palace. Everyone was shouting.
The under-captain at the door to the council chamber turned and saw Sharina. "By the Lady!" he cried. "Princess, you've got to get out of here!"
Because this had been a working meeting of Garric's closest advisors, Sharina'd been able to change out of court robes into double tunics not terribly different from what she'd have worn on very formal occasions back in Barca's Hamlet. The fabric was bleached instead of being the natural cream color of 'white' wool, and the sleeves had black appliqués of Ilna's weaving.
Ilna said the patterns were unconsciously soothing to anyone who looked at them. Sharina believed her friend, but given the rancor of some council meetings it was hard to imagine how they could've been much worse.
Between her outer and inner tunics Sharina wore a heavy Pewle knife, her legacy from the hermit Nonnus. He'd used it to save her life at the cost of his own. She didn't carry the knife as a weapon-though she'd used it for one-but rather because touching the hilt's black horn scales invoked the hermit's quiet faith, and that calmed her mind.
She reached through the slit disguised as a pleat in her outer tunic and brought out the knife. Right now it was both a weapon and a prayer.
Half a dozen spears sailed through the air and squelched into the monster, burying in every case the slim iron head and stopping only at the wooden shaft a forearm's length back of the point. The creature continued to advance. The spears wobbled like tubular wasp larvae clinging to the body of a squat green caterpillar.
A soldier just come from the servants' wing dropped his shield and charged with his javelin gripped in both hands. He twisted at the moment of impact to drive the point in, putting all his strength and weight behind the blow. Half the wrist-thick spear shaft penetrated; sludgy green fluid oozed out around the wood.
The soldier's wordless grunt of effort changed to a scream as tentacles wrapped him. The monster lifted him, pulling his limbs off with the same swift dispassion as a cook plucking a goose for dinner. The screams stopped an instant after the fourth bright flag of arterial blood spouted from the victim's joints.
"Use your swords!" an officer shouted. As he spoke, the monster gripped him. He slashed through one of the feathery tentacles, but another tentacle tossed him with seeming ease twenty feet in the air. He didn't scream until he started to fall back toward the alley. Three soldiers who'd started forward at his order backed instead and raised their shields.
The creature crawled forward on hundreds of cilia each no bigger than a man's foot. It was a plant-it had to be a plant; the tentacles were very like fern fronds though huge and hooked with thorns on the underside-but it was a plant from Hell.
Ilna had knotted a pattern from the cords she kept in her left sleeve. She held it up, facing the hellplant.
The creature squished onward, unwrapping a tentacle suddenly to grip a soldier's ankle. He slammed the lower edge of his shield down to cut the frond off against the pavement. Its tip uncurled, leaving a bloody patch above the soldier's heavy sandal. He retreated, his sword up but his face in a rictus of terror.
Chalcus put his left hand on Ilna's shoulder. She tried to shake him off. The sailor kept his grip and shouted, "Come away, dear heart, for you'll do no good here!"
Sharina found herself backing toward the doorway from which she'd entered the courtyard. The hellplant didn't move quickly, but it'd proved it could tear a
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