by Ian Irvine
“Word is, Grandys has gone to attack the enemy,” said the cook.
“Which enemy? Me, or Lyf?”
“No one knows… but they say Lirriam goaded him into it.”
“Why would she do that?”
“They hate each other. Lirriam’s been at his throat for weeks. She won’t let up…”
“And?”
The cook licked dry lips.
Rix menaced him with the sword. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll kill you and find someone who will.”
The cook looked over his shoulder, licked his lips again and lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s said she’s got some ancient magical artefact, long dead, and she’s trying to wake it.”
“What artefact?”
“No one knows. Speak about the Heroes’ business and you get a sword through the guts.”
“But something bad?”
The cook nodded stiffly. “Very bad. So they say.”
“Where’s Tali?” Rix said without changing expression.
“Who?”
“A small blonde woman. The escaped Pale who led the slaves’ rebellion in Cython a few weeks ago. She was Grandys’ prisoner.”
“I know nothing about a female prisoner.”
Rix prodded him in the belly with his sword. “You must have prepared meals for her.”
“If she was here, it was a deadly secret… but the whole top floor of the tower was off limits. Locked. Only Grandys and Lirriam were allowed up there.”
“Surely the servants were curious about that.”
“Around Grandys, curiosity gets you a blade through the heart.”
“What about Holm?”
“What’s Holm?”
“A prisoner brought here yesterday. A man in his sixties. Grey, thinning hair.”
“I saw him brought in,” said the cook. “And taken out again. Grandys took him to Flume, and that’s all I can tell you.” He took off his apron and wiped his hands on it. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Why would I?”
“It’s the way in this war. If you’re not, I’m going.”
“Where?”
“Running for my life. Grandys will know I’ve talked. He always knows.”
“Are you a good cook?”
The cook tossed him a loaf of freshly baked bread. Rix tore off a piece, chewed it and swallowed. It was magnificent.
“Want to cook for Hightspall’s army?” said Rix.
“Beats hiding in a ditch, waiting to die.”
“I’ll ignore that ringing endorsement. Put your apron on, gather your implements and your apprentices, and wait outside.”
Rix met his lieutenants in the yard and they discussed what they had found. There was nothing to show what had happened to Tali.
“There’s barely a hundred people in the whole place,” said Jackery, who had done the numbers as usual. “And forty of them are servants. Most of the tents were empty; he only left a skeleton guard. We killed half of them and the others surrendered.”
“He must’ve gone in one hell of a hurry,” said Rix.
“Only two and a half hours from Rufuss’s arrival to Grandys’ army marching out the gate. He must be planning a lightning raid on our camp, since he took no supply wagons. The infantry had their packs and the mounted men only what they could carry in their saddlebags.”
“It’s a favourite ploy of his. He makes a high-speed night march, appears where no one imagines he could possibly be and attacks with such ferocity and determination that he carries all before him…”
Rix looked around the yard, taking a mental inventory. “We’re low on supplies. Low on almost everything an army needs. Get his wagons loaded with all the food here, plus his spare weapons, blankets, tents and gear.”
The army worked furiously, and in another hour the laden wagons were moving out the broken gates.
“What about them?” said Jackery, indicating the bodies.
“Light the funeral pyres. They were good men once.”
“And the castle?”
“Burn it. Let’s see how Maloch’s magery stands up to that. Whether his secret room burns, or whether it doesn’t, the loss of Swire and all his supplies will set him well back.”
They torched the pyres and the castle, and followed the supply wagons east to Manor Assidy, in the foothills of the Nandeloch Mountains, to await Grandys’ vengeance.
CHAPTER 46
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you killed,” said Asy Dillible, the leader of the Resistance.
She leaned back in her chair until the front legs lifted off the floor and the rungs groaned under the strain. She was a big, meaty woman with a furry moustache, hairy arms and scarred knuckles, and Tali and Glynnie were in her power.
“Please, I just want to find my little brother,” said Glynnie.
Tali could tell that she was getting desperate. They had been interrogated for hours but Dillible, the Resistance leader, would not answer any questions about Benn. Tali kept silent; it was all she could do to stay on her feet. It was up to Glynnie now.
“Who gave you my name, girl?” said Dillible.
“I can’t say,” said Glynnie, her fingers clenching and unclenching.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Look, Benn’s just a little boy, only ten. He’s got red hair and he’s skinny and small for his age.”
“What use would he be to the Resistance, then?”
“He’s quick and smart, and he looks innocent. He’d make a good messenger boy.”
“So would five thousand other boys in Caulderon,” said Dillible. “Besides, if he’s been lost for months, and there’s been no news of him, he’s surely dead.” She gestured to the pair of guards at the back of the room. “Take them to the lock-up until I work out what to do to them.”
Glynnie looked as though she was going to scream. There was only one avenue left, though Tali took it most reluctantly.
She stepped around Glynnie and pulled off her baggy hat. “My name is Tali. I’m the escaped Pale who went back into Cython and incited the slaves to rebellion.”
Dillible heaved herself to her feet, grunting with the effort, and held up a hand to the guards. She studied Tali carefully, including the short golden stubble on her head.
“Strip!”
As a slave, Tali had spent the first eighteen years of her life wearing only a loincloth, and the order did not bother her unduly. She took her clothes off and stood there, shivering. Glynnie, however, flushed a brilliant red as she began to unfasten her shirt.
“Not you,” said Dillible.
She walked around Tali, studying her from all angles and paying particular attention to the slave mark on her shoulder and her various small scars.
“How did you get that?” She was pointing to the inch-long scar halfway down Tali’s right thigh.
“An arrow when I was fleeing across the Seethings, months ago.”
“And that?” A small, elongated scar low on her belly.
“Cythonian chuck-lash.”
Dillible nodded. “You’re Tali. What do you want?”
Tali dressed. “If you help Glynnie find Benn, I’ll help you.”
“Indeed you will.” Dillible gestured over Tali’s head.
The guards took them from behind and bound their hands.
“Do you want them dead, like all the others?” said the guard holding Tali. He was only a few inches taller than her, but twice as wide.
“No!” Asy Dillible snapped. “Treat them well, but don’t let them escape.”
“If you are planning a rebellion—” began Tali.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” sneered Dillible. “The famous Thalalie vi Torgrist, hero of the Cythonian rebellion, comes swanning in after we’ve done all the work and tells us how to run our Resistance.”
“All I want is to find Benn and get out of here.”
“You’re a walking catastrophe. House Ricinus was toppled because
of you, and you left Cython drenched in blood. You’re not having anything to do with our insurrection…” She pressed the points of her fingers to her mouth, thinking. “Though you might serve as a figurehead, to inspire the rank and file.” She gestured to the guards. “Take them away.”
Before they could move, the ground shuddered and a pot fell off a shelf and smashed. From some distance away, Tali heard shouts and screams.
“Find out what that is,” rapped Dillible.
A girl burst in, about fourteen years old, large-bodied and red in the face. She bore a distinct resemblance to Dillible.
“It’s an attack, Ma,” she panted. “They’re flooding the tunnels with stink-damp.”
Dillible cursed, then swept sheaves of paper off the table into a canvas bag. “Which way’s it coming?”
“From the west,” said the girl. “And the south.”
“Which means the northern way out will be guarded. We’ll have to go east. Spread the word—everyone is to take the old Charnel passage; we can seal its doors.”
“What about all the people in Dimly Passages, Ma? How will they get out?”
“They won’t.” Dillible swung the heavy-looking bag over her shoulder.
The girl clutched at her mother’s arm. “But all my friends are in hiding there. Sal and Lili. And Jel!” The girl let out a shriek. “Jel went over to Dimly this morning. I’ve got to warn him, Ma.”
“There isn’t time!” Dillible grabbed the girl’s wrist as she prepared to break away. “You’ll have to make new friends.” She pushed her daughter out a small door, then looked back at the guards. “Bring the prisoners, you fools, it’s stink-damp! Make sure every door is double-sealed behind us.”
Glynnie sagged. “What if Benn’s in there?”
There was no answer.
The guards shoved Tali and Glynnie down a dark passage. Ahead, she could hear the girl pleading desperately with her mother. The girl began to scream, but it grew ever fainter as Dillible dragged her away. A door slammed and her screams were cut off.
Glynnie and Tali were taken down a long way. It became warmer and damper, and so humid that they were sweating. They plunged down a steep ramp, but halfway down the leading guard skidded to a halt, sniffing.
“There’s stink-damp down there,” said Tali, whose keen nose had picked up the distinctive smell, like rotten eggs. “And it’ll be thicker at the bottom. If you go down there, you’ll die.”
He scrambled up, caught Tali by her bound wrists and took another turning, hauling her through the gloom until she was gasping for breath. They passed through a heavy stone door, which the second guard closed behind them and bolted.
A bucket of putty stood in the corridor. He hastily filled the gaps around the door with the putty. The first guard ran to a door at the other end of the long corridor, opened it and took a careful sniff. The second guard prodded Tali and Glynnie along and into a large room with small breeze holes high on the walls to the left and right. The room was empty save for a round wooden table and four rickety chairs. The guards went out and bolted the door.
“You have no idea how sick I am of being locked up,” said Tali.
“We lost forty-one rebels,” said Dillible later that day. Her face was flushed with rage, her lips white, her tight shoulder muscles standing out like armour plate. “They were gassed or killed in stink-damp explosions. We’ve got to finish Lyf and take our city back. Tali, we want your help.”
Glynnie made as if to speak but Tali got in first. “In exchange for Benn, if he’s alive… or if not, the truth about what happened to him.”
Dillible cracked her knuckles. Tali tensed, thinking that the rebel leader was going to punch her in the mouth.
“Don’t you care about your own people?” said Dillible.
“You imprisoned me—don’t try to make me feel guilty. If you’d given a damn about those rebels you’d have made an effort to warn them, instead of running for your own miserable life.”
“Considering your puny size, you’ve got an awfully big mouth.”
“Considering what a great muscly lump you are, you show a remarkable lack of courage.”
Dillible struck Tali in the belly, winding her.
“As a slave, I learned how to cope with brutality,” wheezed Tali. “The answer is still the same.”
Dillible appeared to consider hitting her again, then thought better of it. “All right.”
She swung the door open and stood aside. A guard was waiting at the other end of the corridor. He gestured behind him and a small boy came limping out. The man held up his hand and the boy froze. His eyes were huge, his hair red.
A shiver ran up Tali’s spine.
“Benn!” Glynnie shrieked. “Benn!”
She ran for the door. Dillible blocked her way. Glynnie flew at her in a fury, kicking and biting. Her nails tore three bloody stripes down Dillible’s right cheek. Dillible knocked Glynnie down and sat on her, driving all the air from her lungs.
“Sis!” the boy cried.
He tried to get to Glynnie but the guard lifted him off his feet. His arms and legs thrashed uselessly. It was definitely Benn—Tali recognised his voice—though he was so thin that he was barely recognisable. His left arm was in a filthy, cracked splint, his eyes were huge and hollow, and there were bruises on his arms and legs.
“Take him away,” said Dillible. “Hold him safe.”
The guard carried Benn off. Dillible rose, kicked the door closed and put her back to it. Glynnie scrunched herself into a ball and lay there, sobbing.
“You have a strange way of getting people to cooperate,” Tali said coldly. “No wonder your pathetic rebellions keep failing.”
Dillible knotted a fist and started towards her.
Tali had taken more abuse than she could endure. She extended her hand, the fingers spread and pointing at Dillible’s face. “With my gift for magery, I once sheared a man’s head right off his neck,” she said conversationally.
Dillible froze. Her mouth opened and closed.
“Benn looked like he’s got a fever,” moaned Glynnie. “I’ve got to take care of him.”
Dillible perched on a woodworm-eaten chair, which gave off little puffs of wood dust under her weight. “How did you start the rebellion in Cython?” she said to Tali.
“I called everyone together in the assembly area and told them Lyf had given orders for all the slaves to be put down. I told them their only hope of survival was rebellion.”
Dillible sniffed. “And that did it?”
“Of course not. They wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d escaped—I wasn’t one of them any more. But I managed to convince one of the Pale leaders, Radl, and she talked a few thousand slaves into rebelling.”
“That’s all?”
“It’s not even the beginning. We led them into the bloodiest and most terrible battle of my life. We were lucky to win, and I’m still not sure it was worth it.”
Glynnie looked up. “Holm said the Pale won because you were absolutely brilliant.”
Dillible looked sour. “You won’t be leading us into battle, puffing yourself up and taking all the credit.” She went out.
“She just wants to use you,” said Glynnie.
“Of course she does. She’s hungry for power and she sees me as a threat.” Tali laughed mirthlessly. “If only she knew. I don’t want to see another rebellion as long as I live.”
She sat beside Glynnie and put an arm across her shoulders. “Feeling better now?”
“No,” said Glynnie. “Yes, of course I am. He’s alive!” Her eyes filled with tears. “But did you see him? Poor Benn. How he must have been treated.”
“He looked strong, though.” Tali was determined to be positive. “He’d been beaten, but he wasn’t beaten. He’s a tough little chap, your Benn.”
Glynnie wiped her eyes and managed a smile. “He used to comfort me when I was really down. I can’t bear to be stuck her
e, knowing he needs me and I can’t do anything for him.” She looked up. “Can’t you get us out of here with magery?”
“It’s not like a tap I can turn on and off whenever I want.”
“What is it like?” Glynnie said eagerly. “In Palace Ricinus, people talked about magery all the time. It was so exciting, especially when Tobry was talking about it…” She looked mortified. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I like it when people talk about him,” said Tali. “It reminds me of the real Tobry, before the shifter curse took him…”
The grief never went away. She tried not to think about him but it only took a word to bring the memories flooding back.
What to do? Tali did not want Glynnie to think she was unwilling to use her magery to save a little boy, but even the smallest magery was a risk to her life now. She moved away from the air vents, in case Dillible was listening, lowered her voice and told Glynnie about the dire state of the master pearl.
“It’s excruciating to use,” Tali concluded, “and if I keep using it, it could burst at any time… and kill me.”
“But you used it to save me at Murderers’ Mound,” said Glynnie.
“You were about to be hanged,” said Tali.
“I meant, you didn’t have to use the pearl, yet you risked your life just for me. And you suffered terribly afterwards.”
“It’s more painful each time I use it.”
“Then it’s up to me to get us out,” said Glynnie. “I’m the one who promised to look after Benn, yet ever since you got here, you’ve been looking after me.”
The door crashed open. “Grandys is here!” cried Dillible, her broad face alight.
Tali, who was asleep slumped at the table, woke with such a start that her rickety chair collapsed under her. She came to her feet, groping for her knife, then remembered that the guards had taken it.
“What, down here?” she said.
“Why would he come down here?” sneered Dillible. “He’s attacking Caulderon right now, heading for Lyf’s temple. I hope he smashes it to pieces.”
Had Grandys tracked her to Caulderon? He must have done—why else would he make a seemingly suicidal attack on Lyf’s greatest stronghold?
