Justiva told one of her priestesses to give Roval a sedative, then she ushered the rest of us out into the corridor.
"We have had a stream of injured coming to the temple for treatment," she said as we stood milling about. "Some were hurt when the palace towers collapsed, but a few others happened to be on high buildings looking in the direction of Rackridge Hill. They were blinded, every one of them."
"So what happened?" asked Halland.
"Glass dragons are very dangerous in defeat as well as victory," said Justiva, her voice barely audible. Perhaps because she spoke so softly, everyone listened. "They accumulate etheric energies all through their long lives, but how they store them I cannot say. When one of them dies, another is always on hand. We used to think that they were merely looting the energies, but I think we have just learned that they are really preventing a massive, uncontrolled release. What Roval saw was a glass dragon's death, and its etheric energies bursting free in an instant. The energies were considerable, as all of Alberin will testify."
"So, one glass dragon for two tripods," said Halland.
"That is the truth," said Laron, "but not the perception. People all over the city saw a glass dragon fleeing the Lupanians. In all of history, nobody has ever seen a glass dragon fleeing. Some even say that the great blast was from the Lupanian, killing the other
dragon. People are saying that it is still striding about beyond the walls, hidden by the smoke and dust of the explosion. As far as most are concerned, it was a great victory for the Lupanians."
"The regent and all his court have fled the city," said Halland. "They took the cream of the city's fighting men as their escort, and fled through Hill Gate for his summer palace in the Ridgeback Mountains. Everyone saw them leave."
"Still, the Lupanians have lost two more tripod towers," said Laron.
"They will be more careful now," said Halland. "They are very powerful, but few."
"Out of twenty, six are dead," replied Laron. "That is a rate of nearly one per day."
"Not so," said Halland. "They learn each time, and become harder to kill." He was right. Each time it had been harder to kill them. It had taken a glass dragon to kill the last two, and glass dragons were the best that our world could send against them.
XXX
It was past midafternoon as we left the infirmary. With the Palace Guard, Royal Guard, and a fairly large part of the city militia gone, the role of maintaining order in Alberin had been largely vacated. The citizens of the capital did not react quite so rapidly to the threat from the Lupanians as their rulers, however. Unlike their rulers, they did not have access to the summer palace in the Ridgeback Mountains, so they had to do things like pack what was portable, find transport, organize protection, and fight off the more pushy of the looters—who were not waiting for the houses to be vacated. By early evening neighborhood security gangs were fighting looter gangs, while some of the better-armed guilds were also discouraging armed visitors in search of easy pickings. Some group appeared to have taken control of the palace grounds as well, because nobody who entered came out again. Unfortunately no pronouncements on what people ought to do came out either. I helped to fortify and barricade the Metrologan temple for about an hour, then set off for Wayfarer Headquarters.
Some citizens were leaving Alberin already, loading a few
horses with gold and provisions, and riding off with all possible haste. Others, with less portable wealth, were piling furniture, clothes, cooking gear, tools, and weapons onto carts, or were barricading themselves in their mansions, houses, cottages, and hovels. As an armed man carrying nothing of obvious value, I was considered to be a hard and unrewarding target, and thus was left alone.
I was somewhat surprised to find the Wayfarers' building still open for business. Because the Wayfarers were an organized force with fighting skills, many folk from surrounding streets were gathering nearby with their packs and carts, ready to flee once word arrived of somewhere safe to flee to. Wallas and Solonor met me at the door, and told me that the directant was one of the few senior officials who had not fled the city. Lacking orders from any central authority, he had decreed that the force was to maintain itself and discourage anarchy, but not take sides in any political conflict. I presented myself for duty, explaining that my transfer to the Inquisition was not entirely feasible because of the Inquisition having fled, and its building having exploded and collapsed. The di-rectant's lackey told me to wait for orders, so I sat down in the common room to wait. Wallas jumped up onto my shoulder from behind.
"Oi, Inspector, what about a hand up?" squeaked a voice from the floor. I picked Solonor up and placed him on the table. Wallas jumped over to sit beside him.
"Does the directant really think that the Lupanians give a toss about our politics?' I asked them.
"He wants someone to tell him what to do," said Wallas. "People want power, but those who get it suddenly realize that the florin now stops with them. They then decide that they are really much happier being mere marshals or lieutenants, and they go looking for a prince to give them orders." A clerk arrived with two scrolls, one for me and one for Solonor. I opened mine and read it while Wallas and Solonor struggled to unroll the other.
"It appears that my transfer to the Inquisition has been canceled," I announced. "My status ... inspector marshal, with five florins a week extra."
"I've been officially assigned to your squad to replace Riellen," declared Solonor, standing on the bottom of his scroll while Wallas held the top with his paws. "Same pay as Wallas. So, what are your orders then, guv?"
"Do you worship my body, adore my mind, and feel twisted with jealousy at the sight of me so much as speaking with a woman?"
Solonor blinked, then scratched his head.
"Er, no, no, and no, but I think you're a clever bastard who's good at stayin'
alive and who's never lost nobody in his command to enemy action."
"In that case, you can indeed replace Riellen. Fall in." Solonor walked along the scroll, allowing it to roll itself up; then he stood to attention beside Wallas, who was sitting up smartly with his front paws together.
"Now then, I am concerned for nonhuman Alberin," I explained. "The gnomes, the cats, all the nonmagical beings and animals. They need to be told about the danger from the Lupanians, how to prepare for it, and when to hide. Do you two think you could liaise with those nonhumans of the city who will not be included in the official decrees?"
"Cor, it's a big city, guv, an' I've got small legs," responded Solonor.
"You address the inspector as 'sir,'" said Wallas.
"Wallas, I carry you about the place on occasion without, shall we say, loss of face," I began.
"You want me to let Constable Solonor ride on my back," replied Wallas, anticipating what was in my mind.
"More than that. I want you to recruit hundreds of cats to carry hundreds of gnomes. I want you to organize a nonhuman militia and underground crier system."
"Cor, I reckon those young gnome hoydens would get the hots for a Grand Gnome Liaisory!" exclaimed Solonor.
"Directant of the Imperial Cats' Militia," said Wallas experimentally. "I like it."
"Is it worth carrying a gnome to earn it?" I asked.
"A title is a title, and it is three long years since I was a courtier, with a tide. Did I ever tell you—"
"I require a simple yes or no!" I said testily.
"Yes."
"In that case, get to work. Explain the importance of staying out of sight, and having sealed refuges in case the Lupanians use poison smoke. Station a cat and gnome to wait at the Lamplighter, I shall go there whenever I have news to spread."
XXX
With Wallas and Solonor on their way, I spent some time patrolling the refugees waiting near headquarters. I gathered that people were afraid to flee out into the countryside with night approaching, and were waiting for the first light of the morning to leave the city. Most that I spoke to thought they would stay with the general g
roup for protection, because gangs were setting upon the unprotected before they had even cleared the city walls. Nobody seemed to have a very clear idea of where they might go, but most thought that the Ridge-back Mountains offered the most opportunities to hide. Soon after sunset I decided to return to the Metrologan temple and see what was to be done there. I walked through streets teeming with drunken, singing Alberinese, many dancing with no clothes at all in the heat of the summer night. As I walked, I took time to drag drunken revelers off the streets, chase occasional looters, and break up the odd fight, all the while fending off women proposing "One more before we all gets eaten, luv?" and advising those preparing to flee Alberin about what they really needed to survive on the open road. Some tavern owners were giving away their drink for free, and orgies of revelry were under way that were bigger than many armies. People drank, danced, sang, fornicated, vandalized, and looted whatever could be carried away. Not that they carried it very far, of course. Much costly furniture lay abandoned a street or two away from where it had been pillaged. Drunken looters staggered about flinging gold coins to the crowds, and the poor wandered into the looted houses of the rich and made merry with whatever remained therein.
Back at the Metrologan temple, I learned that Laron had ventured into the palace, and discovered that several dozen elderly, retired guardsmen had been offended by the idea of the palace being looted after they had put three or four decades of their lives into keeping it secure. Thus they had raided an armory and set themselves up to repel all comers. Being the most senior courtier left in the city, Laron appointed himself interim regent, swore the retired guardsmen back into active service, and began issuing orders. Justiva sent me straight on to the palace, and there I found Laron surrounded by people who wanted things back to normal and were willing to work for free. Essen, Andry, and Costiger were there as well.
"Andry, Costiger, go to Wayfarer Headquarters and tell the directant that he must use the Wayfarers to keep order among the people who are fleeing the city tomorrow morning," Laron ordered while two clerks scribed out an original declaration and a copy for the records. "Danol, not you. I'm worried about the voidship. I want it secured from damage. Essen, get a squad of guards together to protect Danol while he moves it."
"Sir—that is, lordship—"
"I don't care what the bloody protocol books say, call me sir!"
"Yes sir, but the voidship is fifty feet long and weighs seven tons. Anyway where are thieves going to take it?"
"A mob may attack it," Laron pointed out.
"Apart from some flaking when it flew through the air as a shooting star, the hull is harder than diamond," I replied.
"Be that as it may, Inspector, I do not want it left in the open. A mob attacked and killed the handling beasts not long ago."
"Killed?" I exclaimed. "But they are very strong, they can defend themselves."
"Not when straw and pitch is heaped on their cage and set afire. Someone knew their weakness, someone with masters who ride dream-fabricated glass-fiber towers a hundred feet tall. Someone who wanted no lessons learned from the handling beasts. Take a team of horses, have them haul the void-ship and its wagons into the palace grounds."
"Very well, sir."
"At first light you and all other Wayfarers are to help escort the citizens as they flee Alberin. I have issued a general order." "Escort them, sir?"
"Yes. Defend them as they travel. Fend off outlaws, looters, and suchlike."
"And Lupanian tripod towers armed with invincible heat weapons?"
"Very funny. Danol, the citizens are beyond my control, but I still have a duty to serve them. I must help them get away, and give them a head start against the Lupanians. It will be the last service that an Alberinese ruler ever performs."
"Yes sir! But do you not plan to flee as well?"
"No," he said firmly. "When the refugees are clear of the city, you are welcome to return here if you wish. If you decide to flee, I shall understand. Now then, is there anything else?"
"One small matter, sir."
Taking Laron aside, I handed over the master register of the Inquisition, explaining what it was and how I had acquired it.
"It will give you a slight edge when deciding who may be trusted," I explained.
"You are a truly remarkable young man, Danol," said Laron softly, hugging the master register to himself.
XXX
It took the better part of an hour to move the voidship into the palace grounds. With the work done, I then went to the Metrologan temple to explain the new orders to Justiva. I found the place deluged with the injured from the vast, riotous orgy that Alberin had become. Justiva was coordinating all the other Metrologans when I found her, and was carrying a tray of bandages.
"I find it hard to believe that the Lupanians can do worse to us than we are doing to ourselves," she said after I explained the new arrangements with the voidship. "Alberin is like a battleground."
"The pillaging and riots should die down by the morning," I suggested. "Most folk are just waiting for the dawn so they can flee."
"Good, that should leave us free to finish moving the temple's library into the sewers, cellars, and other secret places of the city. We Metrologans are staying."
"I guessed as much. Laron has ordered the Wayfarers to escort the exodus. I can't think which of us will be in more danger."
"Our world is falling apart before our eyes, Inspector." "I know. It will be a long day tomorrow."
"That it will. Will you sleep here tonight? You are welcome."
"Thank you, but no. Kavelen Lavenci has invited me home to meet Madame Yvendel."
A pained expression slowly spread over Justiva's face. She put her tray down on a bench, then pressed her hands against her temples as she slowly shook her head.
"The Lupanians are closing in to annihilate us, the city is in total chaos, civilization is about to fall on its face, we are all liable to wind on some alien menu before the week is out, yet you are going home with a girl who wants to introduce you to her mother?"
"Well, yes. We must keep our priorities in perspective."
Chapter Seventeen
DINNER WITH MOTHER
I set off for the Lamplighter to secure a drink and steady my nerves. The tavern was an island of order within a sea of anarchic revelry and mayhem, and I was welcomed, being a Wayfarer. Within the taproom people still paid for their ale, and were mannerly to each other. There was no reason for it, as money had ceased to have worth throughout the city, but good behavior, manners, and mutual respect were all that we had left, so we preserved them. The mood was particularly subdued, however, and the patrons were not of a mind for false gaiety. Many were wearing foraged armor and carrying weapons. We were all aware that not one in a hundred of us would escape death or slavery in the days to come. Not far away a girl stood with her arms around the neck of a youth armed with a cheap but sturdy ax. She was singing to him, and I caught a few words of a familiar song.
"... I stepped up to him and I said without tarry,
" 'Lie with me tonight, maybe someday we'll marry' ..." Her voice broke on that line, and many of the drinkers present looked profoundly moved. I sat watching them for some moments, wiping my eyes. The largest and most muscular tabby cat that I have ever seen thudded onto my table. It was missing most of one ear, and clinging to its back was a gnome that looked as if it earned a living as a brush in the tavern's privy.
"Militia-gnome Wolwor and Militia-cat Rrowll, Wharfside Incontinent Underground Militia, reportin', sir!" said the gnome, shakily climbing down from the cat.
"I think you mean Wharfside Irregulars," I responded as I sat up with astonishment.
"Er, yeah. Got orders, guv—sir?"
"Orders, yes," I replied, gathering my thoughts. "Spread the word. Do not join the exodus of humans out of the city. Stay in Alberin, prepare refuges down low, in places that will not burn. Choose places that can be sealed off from poison smoke. Lay in food, stay off the streets, and avoid th
e looters." The cat made a rumbling sort of noise.
"Er, yeah, thanks. Sir, some of us wants ter fight. How does we do that?"
"You can be of more use to the, ah, war effort by spying," I improvised. "That is why I want you in Alberin when the Lupanians take over. Spy on them, learn their secrets, steal their weapons. Understand?"
"Cor, 'ear that?" said the gnome, elbowing the cat. "Secret agent. Wimmin go fer secret agents."
The cat gave no sign of understanding. The gnome climbed back onto the cat and grasped two handfuls of fur, then spoke in some underlanguage. The cat sprang off the table and vanished. I got up to go as well. It was approaching the tenth hour.
XXX
Revelers were still on the streets as I left, drinking, smashing jars, dancing, and being sick. Three men recognized me as a Wayfarer constable and challenged me over some real or imagined incident of times past. I told them to stand aside. Predictably, they took offense. One charged me with his ax before the other two could bracket me. I drew my sword and blocked in high prime, as Azorian called it, rotated inverse, and cut for the side of his head. Before he had hit the ground I did a drop-lunge to skewer the man to my right, managing to stab him chest-center and pierce his transverse artery. Meantime the one to my left had chopped for my head but missed, because of my drop-lunge. He took two steps and swung high for a downward chop, but he was already impaled on my sword.
"Oooh, but ain't 'e a champion!" exclaimed a girl who was standing with her breasts free of her robes, holding a jar of wine high. "I'm the prize, lad, d'ye know it?"
I left her to the bodies and strode on. Screams, shouts, singing, the ringing of ax blades clashing, and the breaking of glass came to me from the darkness beyond the occasional burning building or furniture bonfire that I passed. I reached the neighborhood of Madame Yvendel's secret academy.
"Danolarian!"
I dodged and spun about at the voice, then Lavenci stepped out of the shadows.
"Ladyship, you should not be out here!" I exclaimed.
"The correct form of address is 'darling' or 'truelove,'" she replied, waving her hands impotently. "Danolarian, I must speak with you before you enter the academy."
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