He could feel Luthian’s eyes boring into him. He was hoping that his uncle’s trust in him had just increased, because if it turned out that Luthian had killed Sordith in the attempt to cleanse the city, Alador was going to want someone to pay as well.
“I would think this honored council would be planning how to help the city recover, not casting blame when a culprit was quite obviously found in the act and murdered,” Alador added, since no one had spoken for the moment.
“The mage has valid points. Our healers are overrun. The number of dead to be dealt with is heart wrenching.” Lady Aldemar nodded her approval to Alador.
Luthian, always the master manipulator, stepped up beside Alador. “Alador is right. We have larger matters to pursue.” He looked at his nephew. “I understand that you worked alongside the Blackguard last night. Can you give us a quick assessment of what needs to be dealt with right now?”
Alador glanced at his uncle, clearly surprised at the man’s deference to him. He was not used to public praise from the High Minister.
Before he could speak, another mage stood up – a fire mage. “Should we not get Commander Levielle in to give us a status report? He is our military leader, and I believe in charge of the clean up.”
Luthian was ready to object when Lord Daybrooke, a mage Alador had seen many times in the company of Lady Aldemar, interceded. “I heard Lord Alador battled the storm’s elements throughout the day and into the night. How many of you ventured out yesterday to help?” the elder healer mage demanded in an accusing voice, glancing around the table. “Did any of you offer up your halls to bed down those evacuating to the upper tiers? Let us hear what Lord Alador has to say. He has earned a right to speak at the council.”
Alador’s eyes moved quickly to assess his uncle, though he made no physical move otherwise, keeping his hands clasped behind him as he waited for the council to speak. Being allowed to speak, or even being on the council, would have great advantages for him. He wasn’t sure how one made it to the council, though every sphere was represented except death. He had never seen a death mage at the few council meetings he had been privileged to attend.
Luthian, to his credit, never batted an eye. In fact, there was an edge of satisfaction to his posture that Alador did not understand. “I quite agree, Lord Daybrooke. He has more than earned the right to speak and a place on the council.” Luthian drew himself up. “All in favor of granting Alador Guldalian a council seat?”
Alador almost gasped out loud at the nomination. He was even more surprised when most of the council’s hands rose to confirm his placement.
This was a boon. He would know more of the mages’ plans in the future. He would never have thought it possible. Even though he was a Guldalian by birth, he was a half-breed. He glanced at his uncle, who was practically preening. Why would he want him on the council?
“Welcome to the council, Lord Alador. I think calling you by your first name will stop any confusion of our surnames.” Luthian grinned mischievously at him.
That was fine by Alador. He felt uncomfortable every time he was called Lord, let alone Guldalian.
“Thank you, I am truly honored by the council’s faith in me,” he murmured. He moved around to one of the two open chairs at the table.
As he was about to sit down, Lady Aldemar spoke up. “Before we continue, can you give us an assessment of the damage from your viewpoint?” Her words held no censure, and were almost welcoming.
“Well, as you already stated, milady, there are many injured. Between the flying debris, the panicking crowds and the wave itself, even the Blackguard caverns are overrun with those needing healing.” He clasped his hands in front of him as he considered what the council truly needed to know.
“The trench has not drained enough to assess the damage to the storehouses and mines. Hopefully, the mages assigned to assist in this were able to put walls up for safety.” He looked about the table solemnly. Some were taking notes. Luthian had sat down and was also scribing as Alador spoke. “In addition, the walls need taken down that were erected to trap those escaping from the trench. This action alone will help greatly in the draining of the upper tiers.”
Alador continued when no one spoke. “It is likely that the deep mines are flooded despite the attempts to stop the waves from entering. I understand that air flow shafts were established on the plains surrounding the city; those have likely filled in based on water movement I saw.” Alador swiped a hand over his face as he sought to recall details.
“The first tier took a great deal of damage from the initial wave, but all tiers have buildings in need of repair – some minor, some extensive. I am sure if we inspected this fine hall,” he looked around at the amazing mosaics and tapestries, “there are repairs to be made even here. You are going to need every surviving citizen willing to swing a hammer.”
“You are quite observant for a mage,” a red robed mage commented.
“Yes, well, a benefit from being initially trained as a guardsman. You have to notice details if you are going into battle,” Alador acknowledged.
“What else can you recommend, Lord Alador?” Luthian asked steering the conversation back to the storm and away from battles, real or imagined.
This took Alador a second to answer as the shock of hearing himself addressed as Lord by his uncle threw his thinking off. “I would suggest mass funeral pyres. We have already started to gather the dead and move them to the plains. There are too many dead to build individual platforms. I would employ all those who honor Dethara to see to these rituals and burning. This should take precedence over everything else other than healing, since leaving the dead untended would add illness and possibly plague to our list of damages.”
His voice grew in confidence as he continued. “You will need every craftsman who has a skill with clay to begin making roof tiles. I would suggest a tax-free status for any craftsman who will donate his or her time. There have to be clean up details set for each tier. We must cleanse the buildings, walks, ramps, and bridges of all filth brought in from the sea and trench, or down from the overflowing tier sloughs. Lastly, I would send the garbage carts around both morning and night until all the debris is cleared.” Alador paused, “I cannot think of anything else at this time.” He looked about the table to see if this was enough.
“What of the water still in the trench?” asked a man in silver robes.
“I will see to the drying of the trench.” He had realized as the man spoke that he could force the water out if he started at the far end. “If there are any masters of stone, I could use their help to open the sealed storerooms to check that the city supplies and storage areas are still intact and useable.” Alador frowned as he realized he might have kept the wave from the trench. If he had done that, how many more lives could have been saved then his failed attempt to stop the storm itself? Guilt built in his heart as he realized he had misdirected his attentions.
Luthian stood up. The council was now focused on recovery. Alador was quick to note that given the conversation when he entered, it was probably more comfortable to keep their focus off the matter of the walled off trench.
“Given this very detailed account of our city’s needs, here is what I submit for the council’s approval.” Luthian waited to continue until all eyes were on him. “The healing spheres will be headed by Lady Aldemar as usual. We will offer all such mages and those with basic healing skills to assist the wounded, and provide what supplies we may for their use.”
He took note of the nods of approval but continued. “Lord Daybrooke, I put you in charge of gathering craftsmen with the appropriate skills to assist the city in rebuilding. We can offer them sixty days with no taxes in return for their service.”
Lord Daybrooke nodded in agreement.
“The stone sphere will help with the removal of any barriers to supplies and movement.” He hurried past this statement and on to the next.
“I will inform the black sphere of our needs, and my sphere will work
with them in the disposal of the dead.”
“I will take Lord Alador around the city and see to any additional needs. The blue sphere is more than capable of helping to dry the trench and clean the city without him.” Luthian looked to Alador and he slowly nodded in agreement.
“All in favor?” Luthian called.
Every hand in the circle went up. Alador was pleased to see the council was eager to assist the city. Perhaps they were not all arrogant and useless. Could there actually be some decent attributes in the ruling mage class?
Luthian stood up. “Then we all have work to do. Those that were not assigned specific duties, speak to your spheres and listen to their voices as to how you may help. We are concluded for today. We will meet again in the morning.”
Notes were rolled and stowed away. Some members formed small groups, making plans as they exited the hall. A couple hurried out of the chambers to duties they had left hanging to attend the meeting in the first place. Many others stopped on their way out to offer their thanks for Alador’s service and congratulations on his new position. Alador for his part nodded and smiled, but did not say much.
When the last of them were going out the door, he looked to see Luthian still at his seat making notes. Alador picked up the wine glass that had been filled for each council seat and took a deep drink.
“Well played, Uncle.” He toasted the man.
“I do not know what you mean. If anything, the salute should go to you. Probably one of the youngest to make council in our history.” Luthian laid the quill down and looked up at him.
“And the only half-breed,” Alador added.
“Indeed,” Luthian smiled, “and the only half-breed.”
“Did you do it?” Alador walked to the end of the table where Luthian still sat.
Luthian picked up his own chalice. “Did I do what?”
“Did you order the trench sealed?” Alador’s intent gaze was not veiled. He really wanted to know the answer.
Luthian took a long drink and slowly lowered his glass. “That would have hardly been in my best interests, as you pointed out.”
Alador shook his head. “There is wise and then there is expedient. Did you choose opportunity over wisdom, Uncle?”
Luthian looked at him, his face blank as he answered, “I did not.”
Alador had not been watching his uncle’s face. He had been watching his eyes. Even as Luthian lifted the glass to take the second drink, Alador knew he was lying. Anger surged and it was all Alador could do to contain himself.
“I am relieved to hear that. I would hate to have to kill you for being a despicable bastard,” Alador answered just as evenly.
“I am a despicable bastard,” Luthian conceded. He toasted Alador. “Though… you are always welcome to try.”
Alador did not miss his tone. It was the same tone Luthian used with Henrick. He was pushing his line of safety. Perhaps, truth had ceased to be the weapon of choice. Alador clenched his fists to steady himself. As much as he hated it, it was time to lie. Yes, the game had escalated and lying was the only route to take.
He nodded to his uncle, hands clenched behind his back. “I will keep that in mind, Uncle.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sordith woke first. He ached all over and was almost afraid to move. In any case, Keelee was lying huddled against his side, the arm he had wrapped under and around her as fast asleep as she was. It was going to be painful to move once he woke her.
He lay quietly assessing his own injuries. He was as sure now as he had been when he fell into an exhausted sleep that he had broken ribs on his left side. He could not take a deep breath, and even a shallow breath caused him minor pain. He also realized even in the dim light that he was only able to see out of one eye. When he raised his hand to his head, he could feel the lump on his forehead and the swollen eye. Hopefully, the eye was just bruised and not permanently damaged. He moved his legs, and though it hurt his side to do it, it did not seem as though there were anything wrong with the legs themselves. However, when he moved the leg closest to Keelee, she moaned in her sleep.
The rain appeared to have stopped, or at least it was not gushing through the hole above them. Instead, there was a faint light through the hole. The day had dawned.
“Keelee?” he said softly to her. “Keelee, love…”
She moaned again in her sleep and curled tighter against him, if that was possible.
“Keelee…” he smoothed her hair back away from her face.
She didn’t appear to have more than scratches on her face, neck and what he could see of her shoulders. He ran his free hand over her head. There was a lump on the back of it the size of an egg. Now he was worried. Did she have a concussion?
When he started to free himself from her so he could have a better look at her, she cried out in pain.
He pulled his arm from beneath her. He winced as the first needles of pain began to occur in his otherwise useless arm. He clenched his fist and let go repeatedly to try to rush through the process. Painfully, he pulled himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth and rubbing his arm as it sent shooting pains from his finger tips to his shoulder. When it was finally awake and he could feel sensations with both hands he ran them over her sides, but received no response.
He started to pull his legs up to kneel beside her and she cried out again. It was her legs. He tried to investigate, but the dim light from the hole above was cast too far above their heads for him to see decently. He felt with his hands and became worried when they felt sticky. He raised one above his head into the filtered light. His hand was covered with blood.
“Keelee…” he pleaded. “My love… Can you hear me?” He leaned over her and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Please wake up. I need your help.”
Her eyes fluttered open and though she did not seem to be able to focus on him she whispered, “Sordith…”
“Yes, my love… I am here, love.” He was so happy to hear her voice.
“Are we dead?” she asked groggily.
“I don’t think so. If we were, I think we would be in a lot less pain.” He smiled down at her and leaning forward again, he kissed her. “Can you make me some light, so I can assess the damage?” he coaxed.
“I’ll try…” The hand that was laying on the sand opened and a small ball of light sat in her palm.
It was enough for him to see what was paining her. The front of her legs where he felt earlier were scratched but otherwise undamaged, but the back of her left leg had a piece of wood the width of a broadsword sticking out of it. She was lucky it was not long or she could not have been able to get through the hole and down here last night.
Sordith whipped off his belt and made a tourniquet around her thigh. She screamed in pain and her voice echoed around and down through the cave for minutes before it died.
“Thirsty…” she panted after the pain had subsided.
The drizzle from the opening’s edge was filthy and unfit to drink. He stumbled around the cave for a few minutes until he followed the sound of running water to a spring bubbling through the rock wall and falling into the cave depths below them.
He cupped his hands and tasted the water. It was fresh, and he thanked the gods that looked favorably upon them. He removed his leather gauntlet and, squeezing one end shut, he filled it with water and took it back to Keelee.
She drank with desperation, and he let her. He knew she had lost a lot of blood, and he still would have to put her through further pain removing the wooden spear, cleaning her wound and wrapping it before he could spare any thought to getting them out of the cave.
He took his dagger to the long sleeve of what was left of her gown. He removed it at the shoulder and took the material to the spring to wash it as clean as possible, setting it aside to use as a bandage. “Roll over on your stomach for me,” he instructed her gently. “And try not to move. This is going to hurt.” He braced her leg between his knees, probing gently around the edges of the wound. She screa
med, and a part of him died inside, but his hands remained steady. Finally he shook his head with a growl; there was no way to know exactly how much damage the wood had done without removing the piece, and he just couldn’t risk it without a healer nearby. He gently tied the sleeve around her calf, lightly but firmly securing the wood and protecting the wound from any further debris getting into it. Then he loosened the tourniquet so that blood would flow and the nerves would not be cut off; she wouldn’t be able to walk on it otherwise.
She cried and begged for more water. He brought another gauntlet full and sat holding her head as she drank. He waited until she was finished, and seemed to be a bit more awake and focused on him, then broke the news to her. “It’s not good,” he explained. “You’re going to have to be extra careful not to bump it, but we don’t have any choice.”
She nodded solemnly, then smirked at him and raised her bare arm, waving it lazily in his face. “If you had wanted me naked, all you had to do as ask.”
He smiled and she giggled. He tried to lean over and kiss her, but the pain in his side made him groan.
She took the hand he held the crushed gauntlet in and gently kissed his fingers. “How are we going to get out of here?”
“Can you keep that light burning?” Each time she had screamed, the light in her palm went out. He needed to know before he formulated a plan.
“I think so…” She lifted her hand and the light shone brighter. “I’m feeling a little stronger now.”
“Then lay here for a little while and gather more of your strength. I need to check on something.” He smoothed her brow and rose to his feet. He took the glowing orb from her hand and went to check out the plan that had been formulating in his head since he found the spring. The dripping foul water suggested that even if he could get her up to the rock above, the plains were going to infect the wound further.
He went to the spring at the wall of the cave. He held the orb out over the edge of their sandy beach and looked for where the water fell. As he suspected from the sound, there was a pool below, only about six feet down. He could slide down the rock face and catch Keelee when she slid down. He walked along the edge and saw that the spring water flowed unchecked from the pool, carving a path in the rock. He followed the stream as far as he could from the ledge above, then lay on the ledge and hung over as far as safely possible, grunting as the pain of the effort shot through him. The stream appeared to run down the center of a huge tunnel. The rock floor even appeared to be flat.
Fallen Tiers Page 12
