And to her shock and horror, Mia found tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. Surely she was past this by now, this terrible grief? Hadn’t she come to terms with that particular loss long ago?
Tanist came and rested a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“This is too upsetting for you,” he said gently. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. Go now, compose yourself, rest and read one of your books for a while. I’ll get someone else to take the notes.”
She went.
She found herself in her bedroom, but there were no books to read, no window to look out of, nothing but the bed, covers neatly folded, as Dethin always left it. The room felt empty without one or other of her two men there, filling it with their strong masculine presence, comforting and secure. After a while, she dried her tears and went down to the kitchens to help with whatever chores needed extra hands. At least there were other people there, and easy chatter, and activity to distract her. From time to time there would come that niggle of fear for Hurst, out there in the midst of Skirmishers and the uncertain temper of the tournament crowds. She pushed the worry firmly to the back of her mind and concentrated on slicing meat.
54: Assembly (Hurst)
Hurst relaxed once they were back in the tunnel. He hadn’t realised just how tightly wound up he was. Chasing off the two Trannatta had released just a little of his pent-up tension and he felt they had almost reached safety. They passed through the Hall of Light, unlocked one of the gates with practised efficiency and went on up the stairs to the Hall of Magic, so named by some of those who had experienced the strangeness of it. As they reached the entrance archway, Klemmast would have stepped heedlessly into the chamber but Hurst caught his arm and pulled him back.
“No! This part is tricky, so listen carefully.” He explained it briefly, but to his annoyance Klemmast burst out laughing.
“You’re joking, right? Magical men with sticks who just pop up – poof! Come on, Hurst, let’s get on, shall we?”
“It’s not a joke!” Hurst hissed. “Mannigor nearly died in here, Tanist broke his leg, the Gods alone know how many other injuries we took. I’ve survived month-long skirmishes with less trouble than we had in half an hour here. This isn’t a game, Klemmast! We’re in the middle of a war, by all the Gods, and this tower has caused us more grief than anything else so far, so treat it with respect.”
Klemmast held his hands up in surrender. “Fine. You’re in charge, brother.” But his eyes still twinkled.
“Why does no one ever listen to me,” Hurst muttered. “Follow me exactly, all right? And if you get into trouble, I’m not coming back to rescue you.”
“All right, all right. Stay on the black bits. I get it.”
Even so, Hurst insisted that Gantor take the rear, telling him to shout if Klemmast ventured anywhere close to the grey parts of the floor.
Back in the tower, they were instantly surrounded by a crowd as everyone gathered to hear their tale. Hurst left Gantor and Klemmast to embellish it as they saw fit, while he went in search of Mia. He saw her almost at once, sitting on the floor with Dethin near the ramp surrounded by books. He felt a surge of affection for both of them – Mia for her addiction to books, even in the midst of a tricky rebellion, and Dethin for remembering to bring some for her from his expedition up the tower.
Mia was looking anxiously down the hall. As soon as she spotted him, she scrambled up and ran across to hurl herself into his arms.
“Thanks the Gods! You’re back safely!” He winced at the sudden stab of pain that lanced through him. “Oh – you’re hurt! What happened?”
“Some broken glass. It’s nothing, really. No, honestly, it’s only a scratch…”
She pulled back from him and smiled. “The beard’s gone! Now that’s much better!”
She stroked his smooth cheek, and then reached up to kiss him, to scattered applause from the warriors nearby.
“Do you want me to shave too?” he heard Dethin say. Hurst was aware of some anxiety in his voice, although his face was impassive.
“No, I like your beard,” she laughed, raising a gleam of amusement in Dethin’s eyes.
“Oh, so you like his beard but not mine, eh?” Hurst said. Should he be jealous? No, surely not. He had nothing to fear from Dethin.
“Yours was always a bit rough, even when you kept it trimmed, but Dethin’s – it’s so soft and silky.”
She ran her fingers over it, pulling his head down so she could kiss him, too. Hurst shook his head and smiled indulgently. The warriors cheered openly this time, and when Hurst caught sight of Klemmast, his mouth was open in astonishment.
He shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
Klemmast’s eyebrows rose even more, but before he could respond, Tanist was pushing through the crowd, nudging people aside with his crutches and then it was all back-slapping and good-natured ribbing and comparisons of their various injuries.
“Come on, let’s have a look at that scratch of yours,” Mia said, taking his hand and pulling him determinedly to the infirmary.
~~~
The big table in the kitchen was packed that evening. Another big group of scholars had arrived during the day, and with the Nine and the kitchen women the warriors were actually outnumbered now. Apart from the handful on watch, everyone crowded into the room, some bringing extra chairs through, others laying out bowls and goblets and spoons, while Hurst, Gantor and Klemmast sat in a noisy group at one end retelling the afternoon’s adventures. The Skirmishers also wanted to hear the tournament results, and many of the other warriors, having acquired a little experience in battle, were interested in the detailed combat descriptions. Several of the Nine, meanwhile, listened avidly to everything, interrupting often with questions.
The Nine looked almost normal now. Sensible clothes had been found for them, the two women had bound their hair with scarves and several of the men had cut theirs. They had no beards. They had taken to freedom with enthusiasm, and although they were unused to loud noises and winced if the chatter grew too raucous or pans clattered, and several of them preferred the solitude of their rooms, whenever anything was going on two or three of them would materialise, eyes sparkling. Four hundred years! Hurst could scarcely imagine such confinement. No wonder they were so glad of company now.
From time to time, Hurst caught sight of Mia at the far end of the table. Dethin was with her, their heads bent together in some animated conversation, so he knew she was being looked after. But when Walst began a long and colourful account of one of his tournament victories, he nudged Klemmast’s arm.
“Come on, let’s go and say hello to Mia.”
Klemmast picked up a jug of wine and his goblet, and followed him to the other end of the table.
“Mia, you remember my brother Klemmast?”
She smiled politely, but he could see that she didn’t. Klemmast had visited them once, shortly after they married, but he had married and got his own Karninghold not long after that, so there had been no further visits, and separation of men and women at the Ring was absolute.
“And this is Dethin – cousin Crannor, I should say. He was the eastern Warlord, before we came through the tunnel.”
Again, there was no sign of recognition on either side. The nine year age gap was too great, perhaps. The two men nodded in acknowledgement, and eyed each other with interest, as if assessing an opponent.
Dethin was silent. His animation was gone, and he had retreated into his expressionless shell. Klemmast’s eyes slid across to him from time to time, but he said nothing directly to him. After a while, when the conversation paused, Dethin stood up.
“I’ll go and check on the watch. Hurst…” An odd hesitation. “You might want to talk to Trimon later.”
He nodded, and with a quick glance at Mia, Dethin left.
“What was that about?” he asked Mia. “Anything urgent?” But she shook her head.
Klemmast shifted to a more comfortable position, and stretched his
legs out. He was mellow now that his tournament injuries had been tended and his belly was full. He refilled his goblet, and lifted it in a silent toast to Hurst.
“So, brother, are you going to explain this complicated business of yours?” he said, with a sly glance at Mia.
Hurst laughed, and pulled at one ear. “Well…” Then he stopped.
“It’s not really complicated,” Mia said. “When I became a barbarian, I belonged to Dethin. Then Hurst turned up, so to avoid any squabbling, the three of us came to an arrangement.”
“Sharing?” She nodded. “So – how does that work exactly? Is it alternate nights? A week at a time? Or what?”
“No, we all share a bed. We find that works very well.”
This time Klemmast’s jaw was practically on his chest. “So you—? When one of you is—? And you—?” He ground to a halt.
“My little brother, speechless,” Hurst said. “I never thought I’d live to see that day.”
“Gods’ bollocks, Hurst, you old dog!”
“Not everyone approves,” Mia said, with a lift of her eyebrows towards Tanist.
“But fuck me,” Klemmast said, “it sounds like fun! Is this a barbarian tradition?”
“It’s a plains tradition, from a long time ago.”
“Fuck me! I’ll have to tell Jallinast about this, and see if we can’t get one of the wives… Maybe not Seelya or Hanni, but Shanya might.”
“If you ever see them again,” Hurst said soberly.
Klemmast grunted, and reached for the wine jug again. Not long afterwards, Tanist came to claim Klemmast. Hurst would have followed them, but Mia put a hand on his arm.
“What is it?”
“I need to tell you about Trimon.”
“But you said…? Oh, not in front of Klemmast, eh? Big secret?”
“Not exactly, but – a bit weird, that’s all. Sylinor said… Let me start at the beginning. I came in with something or other from the cooking ranges – a platter of meat, I think – and while I was looking for somewhere to put it down, I was standing behind Sylinor. Without looking at me, he said, ‘Come on in, sword-maiden, and find yourself a seat.’ They all laughed – Pashinor was there too, and Gullinor, I think. They do love their little jokes, don’t they? They knew, you see, they knew it was me, without looking. Well, of course, I asked them how they knew, and they said they can see – no, not see. Hmm, they are aware, I think that was it, aware of those with a connection. Sylinor said it was like looking at the sun with your eyes closed. But the odd thing – they could see it in me, and they identified Dethin, as well, but they said that Trimon has a connection too. He was – a bit upset.”
Hurst found Trimon in the bunk room, oiling his bow with fierce energy. He glanced once at Hurst, then bent again to his task with renewed vigour.
“It can’t be true, can it?” Hurst said.
“Of course it isn’t true! I can’t do magic. It’s nonsense!”
“You’d know, surely? Maybe not before you came here, but Dethin says everything is amplified by the tower. So you’d know if you could see into minds – people or animals?”
Trimon looked up then. “They said – there are other kinds of connections. Metals. Growing things. Air. They said I must have a connection to air, because of the archery. That I make the air move apart, somehow, so the arrow flies true. But it’s a lie. I can’t do anything like that. It’s impossible. I trained myself to be this good, I practised every day, for hour after hour. I still practise. It’s not some weird form of magic, it’s hard work, that’s all. They’ve been shut up in this tower for far too long. They’re all crazy, these so-called Gods. They smile at us and say this and that, and everyone believes every word. Well, maybe they’re liars. ”
He tossed the bow onto his bunk and got up, thrusting the chair backwards with a loud bang that turned heads, and stomped off.
Hurst lifted an eyebrow at Gantor, who had followed him into the bunk room. He remembered Gantor’s suspicions of the Nine. “Are they crazy?”
“A little. I’d be crazy, too, if I’d been locked up in that tower for four hundred years. But Mia would know if they were lying.”
“Well, if Trimon has any ability like that, it was never obvious,” Hurst said, shaking his head. “What he does – it’s not impossible, he’s just very, very accurate in his bow-work.”
Gantor grunted. “It’s interesting, though. If he can affect the flight of his arrows, even a minute little nudge here or there, it would make all the difference. He is incredibly good, you know. I’ve never seen anything like him.”
“Nor have I,” Hurst said, “but still, it’s not beyond the bounds of the possible, is it?”
“Isn’t it? Those fire arrows – that was astonishing. And he might not even be aware that he’s doing it, you know. Dethin didn’t know for years, and Mia’s only just found out about her connection. Maybe if you have one, you’re naturally drawn to some relevant occupation. Dethin says he was always drawn to horses, and he can ride anything, never been thrown.”
“Never?” Hurst said.
“So he says. And Mia – I can imagine that Mia always had a way with people, always managed to calm things down in a crisis.”
“Well, that’s true enough, but—” Hurst stopped. “It’s impossible to say for sure, isn’t it?”
They had just made their way back to the kitchen, and Hurst’s thoughts were beginning to turn towards bed, when Dethin put his head round the door and shouted above the noise.
“Bell ringing! By the kitchen lifting device!”
He vanished again. Chairs scraped on the floor, boots thumped, metal chinked as swords and vambraces were strapped on. Suddenly the atmosphere was sober and urgent. Hurst pushed through the melee to grab his own gear from the heaps near the door, pushing arms into sleeves, fumbling with buckles and straps, tightening and adjusting, then tearing down the corridor to the back of the kitchens. There was a crowd milling about there already, silent and anxious, Tanist barking orders from somewhere at the front. Then Dethin’s voice, measured, calm. Then silence, disturbed only by creaking leather and the clink of scabbards.
“What’s going on now?” Walst muttered.
Hurst signalled the warriors to move to the sides of the corridor, and strode down to the front.
“Ah! There you are,” Tanist said. “Bell’s stopped for now, but apparently it came from somewhere just above the doors.”
The corridor ended in a pair of large, featureless doors, devoid of handles. Beyond them lay the lifting device which connected to the boat dock below.
“What does it mean?”
“Someone’s down below, obviously,” Tanist said, rolling his eyes. “But no one’s expected.”
“The regular delivery is usually at darkmoon, which isn’t for several days yet,” Dethin said. “Anyway, we don’t know how to work the lifting device, so we can’t let them in.”
“And they don’t know, either, obviously, or they’d be up here by now.”
“The lift can only be operated from this level,” Dethin said.
“How do you know that?” Tanist said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I asked the people who live here – the ones working in the kitchen. But they don’t know how to work it. Only Those who Serve the Gods can do that.”
“Well, we have one of those, don’t we?” Hurst said.
“Cristo?” Gantor said, and his craggy face creased into a smile. “Oh yes, I’m sure we can find ways to make him help out.”
“I approve of your attitude,” Tanist said, “but he’s been surprisingly helpful already. Let’s not lean on him unless we have to, all right? Warlord, will you take a few men and fetch him?”
“Sir. May I borrow Walst? To deter any arguments.”
Tanist laughed, and nodded. Dethin crisply named several men who peeled out of line and the group set off down the corridor at a run.
There was no keyhole, only an indentation for one of the Servants’ rings. Gantor
took Dondro’s ring from Tanist, and after some fumbling, popped the doors open. Beyond them, the lift was just like a small room, although when Hurst stepped inside, it swayed a little.
“Whoa! This is weird! I suppose it’s just on some sort of pulley system? But we could get – oh, eight, maybe ten people in here, at a pinch.”
Above his head, a thunderous clanging made him jump with shock. His hand strayed to his sword hilt by instinct, but it was only the bell ringing again.
“They’re getting impatient,” Tanist said.
Walst returned with Cristo, dressed in clean clothes and not bound or shackled in any way. He seemed subdued, but he listened solemnly to Tanist as he explained the situation. Without protest, he led them back up the corridor a way, then into a side room, and through a couple more rooms to a closed door. Again, the ring opened it, and beyond was a small cupboard. It was dark at first, but as soon as they stepped inside the walls lit up. Against the far wall was a large metal wheel with a handle, and two smaller wheels.
“Ah, that’s easy,” Gantor said, and reached for the handle. The wheel refused to turn, even when he leaned hard against it.
“The doors have to be closed,” Cristo said, shouting above the clangour of the bell. “Top and bottom. See this mark here?” He pointed to a symbol on one of the smaller wheels. “When it points up, the doors are closed. When it points down, the doors are open. The bottom doors are closed, but the top doors are open. So the elevation room cannot be moved.”
Cristo was sent back to the prisoners’ room, and after some experimentation they were satisfied they could work the lifting device. Hurst took a small group with him, for they weren’t sure of the strength of the ropes and pulleys, and they were slowly lowered down the shaft. The interior walls glowed, and Hurst was thankful for that. It was a nerve-wracking experience enough, swaying and jerking downwards, in the dark it would be truly terrifying. No one spoke, but he could hear heavy breathing around him, and his own heart was thumping. They were all more used to fighting out in the open.
He could tell when they settled on the bottom because the device no longer rocked about. After a moment’s pause, Hurst and Gantor pushed open the doors and burst out, shrieking war cries and drawing their swords.
The Plains of Kallanash Page 60
