Laodoc sat in silence. Giving up seemed the easiest thing in the world to do.
‘How did they find out?’ he said. ‘No one ever told me that.’
Likiat looked annoyed at the change of subject, and took another drink.
‘Apparently one of your slaves, the girl, was overheard talking about it,’ he said after a while, as he picked at a leg of roast poultry. ‘So they examined the dossier that I compiled during my first tour against the mage. I had included a section on what we knew about her personal life at the time, and the name of her brother was in there. Once they saw it was the same name as one of your Kellach slaves, they moved in.’
‘Who overheard her?’
‘I don’t know the details,’ Likiat said, ‘but it’s no secret that the information was brought to the High Senate’s attention by the merchant, Lady Douanna.’
Laodoc stirred.
‘It was her?’ he hissed, his eyes narrowing, and tongue flickering. ‘She betrayed me?’
‘Betrayed is a little strong, father,’ he said, raising an eyebrow at the change in Laodoc’s demeanour. ‘She did her duty, and was well rewarded for her trouble, elevated all the way to the ranks of the City Council.’
‘Are the Kellach going to be executed?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Likiat replied. ‘I heard that your old slave is the only thing the barbarian mage cares about. He’s being held as a hostage to his sister’s good behaviour.’
Laodoc looked up. ‘Why?’ he said. ‘What do they want with her?’
‘To be honest, I don’t know,’ Likiat said, ‘but I can think of a few things a fire mage with her power could do for us. I’ve seen her in action, more than once. She is incredible, father. If it turns out that her brother is what we need to keep her under control, then I’m sure he’ll have a long life ahead of him in the cells under the Tyrant’s Tower.’
Laodoc said nothing.
Likiat put down his glass. ‘If that reassures you, then what about my suggestion? Will you go to the council?’
‘Yes, son,’ Laodoc replied. ‘I think I will.’
Likiat smiled. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Can I tell Ruellap?’
‘Yes, though I will need a little time to put my affairs in order. Tell him I’ll speak by third’s end.’
‘I’ll do that, father,’ he said, rising. ‘Thank you.’
Laodoc nodded to his son, and watched as he left the sitting room.
For the first time since his release, he felt moved to act, to do something. He relaxed his left hand, sore with cramp, and uncurled his clenched fist. He looked down at the small piece of fabric on his palm, stained with the blood of someone he had loved more than his own sons.
‘I will avenge you,’ he whispered.
Professor Geolaid had left most of her personal belongings behind, such was her haste to be gone from Laodoc’s mansion the moment she had been released from questioning. The old man had not seen her since, and this was the first time he had been up to the professor’s old rooms to look over the damage caused by the guards and investigators.
Geolaid’s office had been ransacked, and every piece of written research had been confiscated by the authorities. Laodoc gazed over the empty bookshelves and over-turned furniture. Now that he had the vague beginnings of a plan, he tried to distance himself from the loss of the work of half a year, and went through to the professor’s old living quarters.
He opened the doors of a wardrobe, and pulled out a grey academic robe with a long hood. He needed something unobtrusive, showing status, but without anyone suspecting he was a city councillor. A thrill raced through him. It had been years since he had walked anywhere in the city, having travelled exclusively by carriage like every other noble. He pulled the grey cloak around him.
He left Geolaid’s apartment, and stepped out back into the passageway. To his left was the first gate, which led to the Kellach’s old quarters. It lay open and undamaged, his guards having surrendered as soon as they had been challenged. He steeled himself, and entered the old faculty. He saw no sign of any disturbance until he turned the corner, and looked down towards the second gate. Everything here had been turned over, from the slaves’ room to the guards’ billets. Simiona’s office had been sacked and, from the empty boxes lying scattered on the floor, more research documents had been confiscated. Her own work, he realised, sadness welling through him. Her precious research probably now lay with Geolaid’s documents, gathering dust in a storage vault, unread until it rotted.
Laodoc paused, shaking his head as he forced down the tears.
He went through the second gate, to the Kellach’s small hallway. There was blood on the floor here, from more than one person, and everywhere were signs of a fierce struggle. They hadn’t gone down easily, he thought.
He lost himself for a while, wandering the rooms where his slaves had lived. He left everything where it was, and was going to take nothing, until he went into Kallie’s room. Like the others, it was sparsely furnished, and there was little in the way of personal items. On her bedside table, he noticed a small model of an animal. He picked it up. It was made of wood, and was of a great beast, a mammal, rising up on its hind paws. Its powerful forelimbs ended in claws, and sharp teeth had been carved into its savage jaws.
A bear, he thought. He had heard the Kellach talk of such a beast, that had roamed the high mountains of their homeland.
He put it into his pocket, next to the scrap of Simiona’s dress.
The way was long, and the streets were not as Laodoc had remembered them. Beggars lined the roads, and out-of-work peasants lingered at every corner and tunnel entrance. With so much of the budget going to the maintenance of the blockade against the Rakanese encampment, many civil works had been cancelled, and food was being rationed for the lower classes. At least winter was over, he thought, and no one was freezing to death any more.
He was accosted several times by people shoving begging bowls at him, but he wasn’t recognised by any of the slaves or peasants on the streets. None of them knew the faces of their rulers he realised. The elite kept themselves insulated from the masses, living in guarded caverns and travelling in windowless carriages. There were a few soldiers around, out on patrol, eyeing the populace, their rapid-fire crossbows level and primed.
He had to stop twice to ask for directions, and hours had passed before he found the main entrance to Appleyard Caverns. Its gate was open during the daytime, and the few guards present let him pass after a cursory glance at his academic credentials. It was a beautiful place, he thought as he came out into the large cavern. There were several sky windows letting in real sunlight, and below, on tiered terraces and platforms, small orchards were laid out beneath the main apertures in the cavern roof. Each apple tree was showing the early signs of spring, with tiny green buds appearing at the tips of their whip-like branches.
He found the address that Simiona had obtained for him before the raid, and climbed the outside steps to a high apartment, built on a single level on a ledge jutting out from the cavern’s side, under one of the sky openings.
He gathered his breath at the top, and knocked.
The door swung open.
Laodoc stepped back in surprise, and waited, but there was no sound from within.
‘Hello?’ he called out into the dark hallway.
He hesitated. It would be bad manners to enter someone’s house uninvited, but he had been walking for hours, and to turn back seemed ridiculous. He summoned his courage, and entered the house, closing the door behind him.
‘Hello?’ he called out again, and started to walk towards a dim light at the end of the hall.
The place stank of a strange, acrid smoke. Laodoc passed the dark kitchen, which was littered with empty bottles of wine and piles of unwashed plates and dishes. His eyes started to water a little from the pungent fumes in the air, as he reached the door from where the light was seeping. He knocked. After a moment with no reply, he turned the handle and went inside.<
br />
Daphne was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her head tilted backwards, her eyes staring upwards into the distance. Next to her were empty coffee cups, glasses of half-drunk wine, and full ashtrays.
The room was unfurnished, except for a bed, two chairs and a table, upon which lay a pile of books, and more used cups. There was an opening in the ceiling, through which the edge of a sky window allowed a glimpse of the afternoon clouds.
Laodoc stood for a while, watching the young brown-skinned woman. Was she ill? Should he go for help?
She spasmed, and he jumped in fright. She fell over onto the floor, curled up in a ball, then retched down the rug, a thin brown stream of sick.
‘Miss Daphne!’ Laodoc cried, and knelt down beside her. He put his hand on her left shoulder and, faster than his eye could follow, she whipped out her right hand and gripped his wrist, squeezing it.
‘Owww!’ he yelled, letting go of her shoulder. Keeping a firm hold of his wrist, Daphne spun on the floor into a squatting position, pulling her armour-plated left arm back to strike.
The rage on her face changed to surprise.
‘You!’ she hissed. ‘What in the Creator’s name are you doing here?’
She pushed him away, releasing his arm at the same time, so that he fell backwards onto the floor.
As he scrambled to his knees, she rooted around the ashtrays, until she found a half-burnt white stick. She placed the unburned end in her mouth, and lit a match. She held it to the stick, inhaled, then sat on the rug, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.
‘Can you make coffee?’ she asked.
He shook his head, coughing, as the smoke enveloped him.
‘Wine it is, then,’ she said. She picked up a bottle, and poured a large measure into a dirty glass. She downed it in one gulp, then sighed.
‘Miss?’ he said, sitting across from her on the carpet. ‘Are you well? What are you doing?’
‘Practising,’ she said. ‘Getting better, too…’
‘Are you quite yourself?’
She raised an eyebrow at him, then gazed around the room, as if seeing it for the first time.
‘I guess this must seem strange to you,’ she shrugged. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I came to ask you a few questions,’ he said, realising from her glowering expression that it had probably been the wrong thing to say. ‘Your door was open!’
She refilled her glass, and smoked her white stick.
‘A few questions about what?’ she said. ‘Have you come from the council? Where are your guards? You can’t arrest me, I work for the embassy.’
Laodoc got to his feet.
‘May I sit at the table?’ he said. ‘I’m too old to be conducting conversations from the floor.’
She nodded, and continued to watch him as he pulled out a chair and sat.
‘I have not come from the council,’ he said. ‘I am here in my own capacity.’
‘How did you get my address?’
‘Simiona.’
Daphne’s eyes widened. ‘Is she…?’
‘They killed her,’ Laodoc replied, his throat catching. He paused, blinking to stop the tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ Daphne whispered, lowering her eyes.
‘I was betrayed,’ he spat, his grief turning to anger, ‘by an acquaintance of yours. Lady Douanna.’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I know. She told me.’
He glared at her.
Daphne leant over, and picked up a different smoke-stick from a pile, putting down the one she had been using.
She lit it, and seemed to withdraw into herself, her eyes growing distant.
‘It was my fault,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.
‘How?’ he rasped. He leaned forward, tensing.
‘I’m a Holdings mage,’ she said. ‘I used my vision in a dream to see Killop talk about his sister to Simiona, and I blurted it out to one of Douanna’s spies.’
‘You saw Killop in a dream?’
‘I used my vision powers. You must know how they work. Don’t you study that sort of thing?’
Holdings mages, he thought, could they see things happening far away? He tried to remember what he had read about it, but he had been so taken up with the Kellach recently, that he had spent no time researching the other peoples of the world.
He shook his head.
‘Well, you’ll just have to believe me,’ she said, drinking more wine from where she sat on the floor.
‘Why were you watching Killop?’ he asked.
She snorted.
‘You heard me argue with Bridget, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘Killop and I dreamt about each other. If I’d seen him that day, I don’t know what I would have done. Well,’ she laughed, ‘I have a pretty good idea.’
‘You’re in love with him?’
‘Was,’ she said. ‘He’s probably dead by now.’
‘He is alive, Miss Daphne,’ Laodoc replied, fixing her with his eyes.
She blinked, and put down the smoke-stick.
‘How do you know?’
‘My son captured the terrorist, remember?’ he said. ‘Both Killop and his mage sister are being kept alive.’
‘Your son, Commander Likiat, told you this?’
‘He did,’ Laodoc replied. ‘Under the Tyrant’s Tower, he said. That’s where Killop is being held.’
An enormous smile spread over Daphne’s face.
Laodoc watched her, nodding. He could use this woman. He had come to find out as much as he could about Lady Douanna’s background and habits, but may have found a potential ally. True, she held only a lowly position at the Holdings embassy, and he didn’t know what else she might be capable of, beyond over-hearing conversations in her dreams, if that was what she had really done.
‘And what are your feelings towards Lady Douanna?’ he asked her.
‘If you’re thinking of revenge,’ she said, ‘you’ll have to wait in line behind me. As soon as I’ve broken Killop out of prison, I intend to deal with Douanna.’
Laodoc let out a laugh before he could stop himself.
‘My dear miss,’ he said, as she glowered back at him, ‘the Tyrant’s Tower is one of the most heavily guarded parts of the High Senate complex. You would need fifty soldiers the size of Killop to break in.’
She picked up her wineglass, and smiled. ‘But you’re not opposed to the idea in principle?’
‘Miss,’ he said, ‘if it were possible to free Killop, and Kallie and Bridget, then I would give anything. I am ruined, Miss Daphne, humiliated. My own son said I was a laughing stock who should retire. No, I will settle for revenge on Lady Douanna, for the Kellach, but also for Simi, who should not have died. Not like that.’ He broke off, closing his eyes.
‘Describe the tower for me,’ he heard Daphne say.
‘Miss!’ he cried. ‘It is useless, one cannot…’
‘Describe it for me!’
Laodoc wiped away his tears, and gazed at her.
‘I’ve been practising for nearly twenty days,’ she said. ‘Took me fourteen to see as far as the High Senate building.’
He stared at her, his mouth opening.
She looked up, and pointed at the opening in the ceiling. ‘There’s a point on the cavern wall,’ she said, ‘from where I can see right down to the fourth boulevard, and from there I can get to just about anywhere in the city. I’ve been all over the High Senate, searching, and getting an overview of the place. I have seen several towers. Describe for me the one where Killop is.’
Laodoc was dumbfounded for a moment, as he tried to digest the power claimed by the woman sitting on the floor in front of him.
‘It’s squat,’ he said. ‘Square, with dark stone, flecked in gold and grey. It has three pinnacles, one taller than the other two. It has, em, it is in the north-western part of the complex…’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Near the Onyx Entrance.’
‘It is, yes!’ he cried, an almost hysterical laugh coming from his mouth.
>
‘I know the one,’ she smiled. ‘And the cells?’
‘I was blindfolded when taken there, but I believe the prison lies two storeys below ground level, in the foundations of the tower.’
‘Good enough,’ she said. ‘Now, I’ll be gone for a bit, so make yourself at home, and bring some fresh wine or coffee or, sod it, even tea would be nice. I’ll be needing it after this.’
Before he had time to reply, she fixed her gaze on the opening in the room’s ceiling, and her eyes went blank.
Chapter 22
Shella, Flow Mage
Akhanawarah City, Rahain Republic – 24th Day, First Third Spring 505
‘But, Shella,’ Clodi said, ‘why can’t they stay?’
‘Shit, Clodi,’ Shella said, ‘I’ve already told you they can, if we can find space for them.’
Clodi pouted as she reclined on a long couch. Her new red and gold gown shimmered in the bright morning sunlight streaming through the tall windows in Shella’s private reception room. ‘You let Sami’s friends move in.’
‘That was when the building was half-empty! Now we’re packing them in six to a room.’
‘But they’re in danger, Shella,’ Clodi said. ‘They don’t feel safe in the city any more.’
‘So they say, but I have to prioritise. Political dissidents first, those on the wardens’ wanted list. We can’t provide a refuge for everyone.’
‘Aren’t you worried?’ Sami chuckled, a glass of rice spirits in his hand, despite the early hour.
‘About what?’
‘That Obli wants you to gather her enemies here,’ he said, ‘so she can arrest them all at once?’
Shella smiled. ‘You dope, Sami,’ she said. ‘Obli has, what, ten days until she’s due? Have you ever seen a pregnant Rakanese woman who has ten days to go?’
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