The Plains of Kallanash

by Pauline M. Ross

  “No, no,” they said in unison. “That will not be necessary.”

  After more muttering, and some dark looks at Hurst, they turned and made their way back to the cart left a short distance away. Only after they had disappeared off into the darkness and the rumblings of the cart had died away did Hurst feel it was safe to allow the laughter to break out.

  “We should have taken them,” Gantor said in disgust. “They might have been more talkative than the other one, you never know.”

  “No,” said Hurst. “One of them disappearing can be put down to chance, but three would attract attention to us, and that’s the last thing we need just now. We have to keep our heads down, so that when we turn up at the Ring we take them by surprise.”

  ~~~

  Tanist was in charge of planning their mission. There was much debate about whether it would be better to attempt it during the winter quiet, or wait until the spring.

  “Once the tunnel builders have passed through,” Gantor said, “we’ll have several weeks of the quiet when the tunnels are likely to be free of other traffic.”

  “Yes, but the Ring will be full to bursting when we get there,” Hurst argued, “and if we have to go above ground at any point, we’re likely to meet snow. Better to wait for warmer weather.”

  Tanist asked everyone he could think of about the likely traffic in the tunnels outside the winter quiet period. Dethin was the most useful source, for although no written records were kept, he remembered in detail all the arrivals during his time as Commander of Sixth. The tunnel at Sixth connected directly to the Ring and the Upper Court there, where most of the serious crimes were tried, and there had been new groups arriving every month, to a uniform pattern. The Travelling Courts, on the other hand, were much less predictable, and there was no knowing when people might be coming through the tunnel at Third.

  “So if we leave this until the spring,” Tanist said thoughtfully, “we simply won’t have any idea what might be waiting for us along the way. And you know, anyone we do meet, we’ll have to – get rid of.” He glanced at Mia. “Servants, anyway. And even prisoners – we can’t afford to have anyone popping above ground and bursting the seedpod. Our arrival has to be a surprise. At least during the quiet, we know everyone will be busy at the Ring. Then, when we get there, we can call a meeting and raise the Karningholders to our cause.”

  “Do you think they’ll support us?” Hurst asked.

  “There are plenty who are already unhappy with the way things are run, and the border Karningholders will be as shocked as I was to learn the truth about the barbarians. Then there are those who’ve lost kin to the arbitrary form of justice these bastards impose. If we tell them Mia’s story… and the Warlord’s – Crannor’s, too… Yes, I think they’ll support us. Enough, anyway. So that’s settled. We’ll leave as soon as the tunnel builders have passed through. Mind you, we’ll have to trot along a bit to make it before everyone disperses from the Ring, but with a small group it’s feasible.”

  They would be no more than thirty altogether, travelling in two groups of fifteen, to avoid overloading the camp caves and in the hope that some would get through even if they encountered opposition.

  “But that’s not very likely,” Tanist said breezily. “The guards at the Ring are armed only with pretty polished sticks, and their role is no more than ceremonial anyway. I never heard of them doing any actual training, so I doubt they’d know what to do with them. Besides, we have swords. The Silent Guards are confined to the temples. No, the only potential problem would be if the Slaves get wind of our intentions and set Skirmishers against us.”

  “We can’t take on Skirmishers,” said Hurst in alarm.

  “No, of course not. If that happens, we beat a very rapid retreat – out through the nearest Godstower and scatter into the swamps. Or if we’re above ground, dive back into the tunnel. But we do need to be able to open the Godstowers at ground level. Grappling ropes are all very well, but not exactly quick.”

  “Once we’re on our way, we can have another look at the Godstowers,” Hurst said, “but we couldn’t find any sign of the door when we looked before, inside or out.”

  “Hmmpf. Well, it won’t hurt to have fresh eyes on the problem. And everyone will need to understand how to open the gates,” Tanist went on. “Just in case we get separated.”

  “You seem to be anticipating trouble,” Mia said, chewing her lip.

  “It pays to be prepared,” Tanist said. “It’s part of Skirmisher training to know how to survive on your own. Now, let’s revise the basics. Warlord, tell me the three rules of offensive strategy.”

  “Have a clear military objective, define a specific plan to achieve that, decide what direction to follow after the objective is attained.”

  Hurst listened without comment. They had gone over it all twenty times already, with various different subsets of the thirty, but most were Skirmisher trained and absorbed the details effortlessly. Dethin, by contrast, had had barely a year’s training, and that many years ago, so Tanist pressed him more heavily. Mia and Tenya were included too, since they were both to go, and Tanist insisted they understand the plan as well as the men. Tenya grumbled about it, but Mia listened to everything intently, asking questions when she didn’t understand.

  The plan was a simple one: to walk through the tunnel to the tower, and then take control of it from Those who Served the Gods. In deference to Mia’s wishes, they would try to avoid bloodshed there, but they were prepared to be ruthless. The tunnel was another matter. Anyone they encountered could alert the Slaves to the presence of Skirmishers, so they would have to be dealt with permanently. Travelling through the tunnel would be straightforward, but there was no way to anticipate what difficulties they might encounter at the tower itself. Different locks, defensive traps, armed guards – anything might be awaiting them. Nor could they sit and wait for opportunity, as Hurst had done when travelling in the opposite direction. They had to break in quickly or abandon the attempt. That would be the greatest challenge.

  Once they had secured their base at the tower, they would summon all the Karningholders to an assembly at the great lecture room in the scholars’ hall, the only place large enough for such a gathering, and explain the situation to them. Tanist was confident that enough would be convinced to secure them in power, but just to be sure, he had sent messages through Hilligor to his own Karning and Hurst’s and a few others he could depend on to support him. They would send a Hundred or two each to the barrens outside the Ring of Bonnegar, supposedly for training exercises, but ready to be summoned through to the Ring. Their job would be to quell any opposition, and ensure that all the ruling Slaves left the Ring. After that, Gantor assured them that the scholars already had a scheme in mind for an alternative form of leadership once the Slaves were removed from power, a situation they had been looking forward to and planning in great secrecy for many years.

  One who would not be going with them was Jonnor. Hurst had argued at length for his inclusion, but Tanist was adamant.

  “He’s too volatile altogether,” he said firmly, as they sat in Hurst’s office one afternoon. Outside a grey day had dissolved into ethereal streaks of pink and gold and ice blue, the wind almost still for once. Only Gantor was with them, sharing a jug of wine, the last of Hilligor’s gift.

  “He’s been better since Zanikor and Cole arrived,” Hurst persisted. “And really, can we afford to leave three Commanders behind? I know them, we work well together, and Jonnor’s fine when he’s kept busy.”

  “True enough, but he’s not terribly good at taking orders. We just can’t risk a temper tantrum in the confinement of the tunnel. It’s going to be difficult enough as it is. Walst, and so on. And then there’s Mia…”

  “What about Mia? She wouldn’t have a problem with him coming with us.”

  “No, but he might find it a problem.” Hurst was mystified. “Look, there’s history – Mia, Jonnor, you…. There’s enough space here to keep things from boil
ing over, but in the tunnel – who knows what might happen? And then there’s the Warlord. You’ve managed things very well so far, and I don’t want to disrupt that. How does that work, by the way?”

  “With Dethin? Fine.” Hurst couldn’t resist a grin.

  “Seems bloody odd to me. Aren’t you jealous of each other?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Not really?”

  “Not at all, then. It’s not as if she was off screwing him in secret, or anything.”

  Gantor snorted, but Hurst couldn’t tell in the dusk gloom whether he was amused or derisive.

  “But sharing a bed,” Tanist said. “That’s downright weird.”

  Hurst laughed. “It’s good. Very good, actually.”

  “But is she…” Tanist scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, does Mia care for him? Because – he’s good looking, and all that, but he’s a strange one, isn’t he? Very cold.”

  “He’s not as cold as you might think,” Gantor put in. “That’s just the cloak he wraps around himself.”

  “True,” said Hurst. “He’s very fond of Mia. But whether she feels much for him – I don’t know, really. Hard to tell.”

  Tanist grunted, and said no more.

  ~~~

  The winter quiet began with the sounding of a different alarm in the tunnel. The warriors were required to close all the doors to the kitchens, storerooms and the big caverns down below and move everyone well away from the tunnel. Walst was fascinated, and keen to hide somewhere unobtrusive to see what was going on.

  “You don’t want to do that,” said Ainsley at once. “Seriously. And don’t take it as a challenge, by all the Gods. They put something into the tunnel – into the air, it kills everything that breathes it. The rats from the water run – Gods, the smell is unbelievable and we can’t drink the water for a while.”

  “Couple of men tried it once,” said Lukannis, the former Commander. “Hid in the kitchens so they could watch through peepholes in the doors. We found them stone dead.”

  So they dutifully cleared the tunnels and closed all the doors, and the next day they found the big wooden doors separating the kitchens from the tunnel were firmly locked and barred. For several days carts could be heard rumbling by, and then silence fell again. It was the moment they had been waiting for.

  They gave themselves two more days, in case of any unexpected late traffic, two days to make their final preparations and say their farewells. Dethin sent his Warlord’s symbols to Kestimar, relinquishing his position. Hurst wondered how much of a wrench it was for him, but he gave no sign of regret, and seemed content now to stay wherever Mia was. Hurst himself formally transferred the Commandership to Heddizan – “A little later than you anticipated,” he said with a sheepish grin – and since Walst, Trimon and Ainsley were also leaving, there were several new Captains.

  Heddizan felt obliged to send some gifts to Kestimar to acknowledge the new Warlord.

  “Well, we have to keep on the right side of him for now,” he shrugged when Hurst expressed surprise. “Until you send word of a successful outcome, we’ll continue as usual, you know.”

  It was traditional to send horses, warriors or women, or some combination. Heddizan had disapproved of Hurst’s casual way of increasing the number of women for the Captains, so he decided to send Mallissa. She was quite willing. She knew nothing of Kestimar himself, but she was happy to be the Warlord’s woman or, if he tired of her, to look after the Captains there.

  “At least I’ll have my own room,” she told Hurst with her throaty laugh, “and the best of the resupply too. I’ll do very well there.”

  In addition, Heddizan asked Hurst if he would mind if he sent Jonnor.

  “I can’t do anything with him,” Heddizan shrugged. “He’ll never accept my authority, but Kestimar’s one of you. A Karningholder. Well – he was, anyway, as he keeps reminding everyone. He won’t take any nonsense from Jonnor, and I’m happy to send the other two with him, to replace the two Dethin’s taking with him. Three warriors of a decent standard, and three horses, and a woman too – Kestimar will be well content with that.”

  “But still…” Hurst frowned. “I’d hoped I might yet persuade Tanist to take him along.”

  “He seems quite keen to go to Kestimar,” Heddizan said. “Said something about the War Council. I suppose he wants to be in the thick of it, mixing with all the Warlords.” He shrugged.

  “Ah, he wants to find Tella, I imagine. His wife. She’s with one of them, or she was.”

  “So many wives you people have,” Heddizan said with a wry smile.

  In the end, Jonnor left without a word. Hurst tried to laugh it off as just another example of his intractable nature, but Mia was distraught, and he himself was hurt. For more than ten years they had been brothers, skirmishing together, sharing their lives, and right up to the blue arrows, he had thought they got along well. He had grumbled sometimes about Jonnor, but he had liked him well enough, most of the time. If he had been a little more flexible, a little less obtuse over Mia, they would have been together still. So it was hard to learn that his resentment was still too great to admit even a polite parting word. Perhaps, one day, they would all be together again, maybe even with Tella, and then these grievances would be forgotten, but for now he couldn’t forgive Jonnor for making Mia cry.

  Hemmond, the elderly stable hand from their Karning, was too unfit to be included in the tunnel expedition, but Tanist had an important task for him. He was to go to Hilligor and wait there for word from the Ring. If all went to plan, he would then return to the Third Section to tell Heddizan, and through him the Warlord. Lukannis, the former Commander, would go with him, as guarantee to the warriors that the Karningers were not simply playing a trick on them. Then those who wished would be welcome to go home to their Karnings.

  Before they left, Hurst took Mia aside. “I have something I’d like you to look after, if you will.” He held up the delicate silver pendant Dondro had worn, shaped like a filigree cage. “It was obviously precious to him.”

  Mia examined it closely. “It’s beautiful! Such fine work – I’ve never seen anything like it. But what’s inside it?” She shook it, making a dry rattle. “They almost look like bone fragments.”

  “I think so too. They’re actually engraved, in tiny letters. Or symbols, I suppose. No idea what it means. Perhaps the scholars would know. But I can’t leave it here, to be fought over and gambled from hand to hand. Will you keep it for now?”

  “Of course. I’ll make a little bag for it. A strange thing for a Servant to wear, don’t you think?”

  “Very. But he was odd altogether, Dondro. His whole back was covered with tattoos, and no designs any of us recognised.”

  Mia shivered, knowing exactly how Hurst had come to see Dondro’s naked back.

  Two days after the last cart passed by, Tanist led his group out of the compound to the ruined Godstower which was now their only access to the tunnel. Hurst fretted over the need to travel above ground, but the weather was so filthy that it hid them very effectively from anyone who might be watching. They were all soaked and chilled to the bone by the time they reached the Godstower and scrambled over the tumbled blocks into the shelter of the tunnel. They carried their weapons, but most of their supplies had been carefully hidden some time before in the camp cave there, in the cart captured from Dondro.

  Heddizan went with them, to see them on their way. He and all the Captains were familiar with the gates and tunnels now, but they had no inclination to use them. Without the Skirmishers’ maps and compasses, it would be all too easy to get lost. Walst was there too, although he wasn’t going with them. He would be part of the second group leaving a day later. He had no one to read the signs for him, but Tanist’s group would mark the route with chalk, as Hurst had done, and wait for them at difficult junctions. They would wait again as they neared the tower, so that they could attack in one group.

  They said little to each other, no more than a f
ew whispered words of good luck and farewell, but no one invoked the Nine. None of them now had any faith in the Gods’ power. Gantor and Trimon wheeled out the cart, and with a wave they set off, leaving Heddizan and Walst standing in the half-light from the Godstower, growing smaller with each step they took.

  After they passed through the first gate, they all stopped. It seemed a significant moment.

  “Well, we are committed now,” said Tanist in a low voice. “No talking unless absolutely necessary, and keep to your places in the line. No weapons drawn without my command.”

  Hurst found it disconcerting to be back in the tunnel again. It was only ten weeks since he had emerged, blinded by the sunlight, from the Godstower, and yet so much had happened in that time. He had been swept into battle, fought against Karningers, killed Bulraney and become Commander – but none of that had changed him fundamentally. He had first walked through the tunnel on a tide of anger and hope, indifferent to his own survival, and he had carried that recklessness into Third Section with him. It had almost got him killed, but even then he had not cared much about the future.

  Only one point in all those weeks had truly made a difference, and that was the moment when Mia had run into his arms, and it had changed everything. Now he had someone to live for, someone to plan a future with, someone to justify the fight for a different sort of governance, a more compassionate and humane way of life. But now he also had someone to protect and it terrified him.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered, dropping back to her side.

  “Of course,” she whispered back. “That’s the third time you’ve asked.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dethin murmured. “I’ll protect her.”

  Hurst nodded, not completely reassured, and returned to his place at the front, beside Tanist.

  They travelled much as Hurst had on his previous journey, stopping briefly to eat and rest each time they came to a camp cave, and sleeping for a few hours at every third one. Whenever they passed a Godstower, they spent a little time trying to work out how to open the door, but it was too dark to see much, even with torches, and although they could make out where the door must be, there were no handles, levers or locks. Eventually, they gave it up.