The Dark Citadel

by Michael Wallace

  Cragyn turned to her. He shrugged off his cloak and untied the tethers on his breast plate, tossing the armor to the floor. “You may submit, or you may resist.” He shrugged. “Either way, I suspect that I will enjoy the night more than you...or Balsalom.”

  Kallia would resist. How could she do otherwise when her people suffered so? She felt their pain worse than her own.

  By morning, she wished she had killed herself when she’d had the chance. But in that respect, she was not alone in Balsalom.

  #

  Cragyn left before the sun rose. An old slave woman came to care for her. It was nobody Kallia recognized; the wizard had apparently determined to separate her from everyone she knew. Render her powerless.

  The woman studied her swollen face with a critical eye. She used a warm cloth to wipe away the blood from around her mouth. Her touch was surprisingly gentle and Kallia had to remind herself not to hate Veyrians in general. Perhaps some spark of goodness would stay alive. A powerful wizard might live for centuries, but everyone died eventually. Maybe then this dormant spark could emerge and heal the damage Cragyn left behind.

  The woman handed her a cup of tea. Kallia took a sip and looked up sharply at the slave, who busied herself cleaning up the torn bedding. The tea had a bitter taste and she thought for a moment that Saldibar had found a way to deliver poison to mercifully end her life. But no, she recognized the taste of willow leaves and savin, and knew the drink for what it was. The apothecaries guild sold a paste that could be mixed into tea to prevent a man’s seed from taking root. Grateful, she drank the tea and poured herself another cup.

  Quiet had descended outside her window. The soldiers would be fixing their stakes alongside the Tothian Way for the next twenty miles, impaling those unfortunate enough to live in Balsalom at the end of Kallia’s reign.

  After she’d cared for the visible injuries, the slave woman looked at the two men guarding the door. A third man, a minor wizard of some kind, sat on a pile of cushions, smoking a hookah. All morning long, he’d smoked while the two guards stood silently at the door.

  “I require privacy to treat the khalifa’s other wounds.”

  None of the men moved. The wizard puffed at his pipe. Bubbles rose through the water. He blew a smoke ring, followed by a second.

  The slave woman shrugged and turned back to Kallia. “Brave the consequences. When you wake tomorrow to find your members shriveled and useless, you’ll wish you’d listened.”

  She proclaimed the words as if she were possessed of witchcraft. The guards shifted uncomfortably, then the senior guard gestured with his head and they stepped into the hallway. The wizard picked up his water pipe and carried it out, then returned for his pillows. He pulled the door shut behind him.

  As soon as they left, the old woman drew the curtains, then turned the latch on the door. The soldiers could break the lock, but not without effort and considerable warning. The woman swept back her hood, then stripped a ragged gray wig from her head, revealing a bald skull. She straightened her back, and the transformation was complete. Saldibar stood in front of her.

  “That bastard. I’ll kill him for this if I ever get a chance.”

  “Saldibar,” Kallia exclaimed, surprised and pleased. She kissed him on both cheeks. “But your voice.”

  He shrugged. “Who do you think trained those spies who followed you for so many years?” Saldibar reached out a hand to her swollen cheek and winced. “I wanted to help you in the throne room, but there was something in those candles that had us all drugged. Even the dark wizard himself, I believe.”

  “Please,” she said. “There is no hope of rescuing me. Guards fill the hallways and Cragyn might return at any minute. Go, leave the city and keep yourself alive.”

  “Rescue? No, I’ve got grander plans than rescue.”

  Hope crept into Kallia’s heart. “What do you mean?”

  The older man looked unsure of himself. “I am only your servant, khalifa, may you live forever. But I’m grateful that you didn’t kill yourself.”

  “No great courage of my own, I regret,” she said.

  “Be that as it may, I am grateful. We face an excellent opportunity. I’m assembling the means for a revolt that will cast the dark wizard from our city and destroy his army at the same time.”

  She shook her head, hope withering as quickly as it had sprung forth. “More pain and death lies in that path, much as I would like to try. Look at the evils he brought about when we surrendered. What will he do if we resist?”

  Kallia continued, “The dark wizard’s men are fanatics, controlled and bought through fear, bribed by feeding them violence. He controls wights, owns the allegiance of dragon kin and their wasps, holds giants under his sway. No, the wizard is too strong for us to fight.”

  “But what if the wizard left the city and took the better part of his army? Could we take it then?”

  She considered. “Perhaps, depending on what support we can draw. How do you propose to lure him away?”

  “I don’t have to do anything. He means to march west. He wants to seize the Way before King Daniel moves.”

  “He’s leaving? The entire army?”

  “Not all of them, no. Plenty will remain to subdue all but the most ferocious resistance. And he’s left Mol Khah to lead them, a monster in his own right.”

  “Yes,” Kallia said, remembering the feel of the man’s hand on her throat. “I’ve seen that for myself.”

  “Now,” Saldibar said. “What we need is an army to retake Balsalom.” He sighed. “And that’s where the plan fails. How do we do that? His ministers have taken over the city. Neither of us have any influence.”

  Kallia smiled, seeing the answer that the grand vizier had overlooked. “Ah, but you forget who does have power.”

  “Who?”

  “The guilds. Nobody can break their power.”

  Kallia had fought to break their monopolies for years with little success. Without their organization and control of commerce, the city could not function. Neither, she suspected, could any of the khalifates from here to Veyre.

  “Yes, the guilds,” Saldibar said, rubbing his hand over his bald skull. “I should have guessed. And much as you’ve fought them, they would prefer your rule to the dark wizard. I can approach Fenerath and propose a truce.”

  Kallia said, “Once we retake Balsalom, the people will give their lives to hold it; they’ve seen what Cragyn will do, and if they forget, they can look down the Tothian Way at their family members on stakes.”

  She continued, “And we can test what Cragyn will do with a rebellion at his back and the armies of the Free Kingdoms at his front,” Kallia said. “With any luck we can consolidate the rest of the Western Khalifates before the enemy even hears of the revolt. Yes, contact the guilds. Arrange a meeting.”

  Saldibar replaced the wig and pulled the hood over his head. “I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”

  She tried to stand and winced in pain. Saldibar caught her arm. She said, “Please do send someone to look after my other injuries. The dark wizard is not a gentle lover.”

  Saldibar helped her back to the bed, his face as concerned as any father’s. “Of course, my queen. And thank you for forgiving my weaknesses. I know I have failed you.”

  Kallia touched his arm, ignoring the bitter smile on his face. “Saldibar, you have never failed me.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “There is one other thing,” Saldibar said as he turned to go. “My spies discovered who set fire to the Slaves Quarter. No enemy at all, but an ally fleeing from wights sent by the dark wizard.”

  Kallia opened her eyes. “Oh?”

  “You may or may not remember, but your father had a bodyguard, a barbarian. A good man.”

  “Whelan.” Her heart fluttered oddly in her chest, remembering how he had looked at her in her father’s bed chambers so many years ago.

  “Yes, I thought you would remember. He belongs to the Brotherhood of the Thorne, specifically
to a fanatical band of warriors called the Knights Temperate, and has fled to warn King Daniel about the dark wizard. Or so my spies tell me.”

  Kallia knew the sect, although she hadn’t known Whelan was a member. Together with the Order of the Wounded Hand, a band of wizards, the Brotherhood had founded the Citadel. King Daniel was a patron to these strange groups, even lending credence to the teachings of the philosopher who had founded these two fellowships.

  “I’ve sent for the man and his companion, a minor wizard named Markal. Perhaps they can plead for help from the free kingdoms. Or perhaps,” Saldibar continued, “he will return to help you escape the city. He esteemed both you and your father greatly.”

  “Saldibar, that isn’t going to happen. If Balsalom suffers, I suffer. If she dies, so do I. But I won’t leave.” She fixed him with a sharp gaze, a look warning him not to try anything that would contradict this assertion. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, my queen.”

  #

  Cragyn marched that afternoon. He left a broken city.

  Over two thousand men, women, and children sat impaled on stakes surrounding the walls and lining the Tothian Way to Ter. Their screams still carried over the walls, although they began to fade. Hundreds of others had died in the night of butchery that followed the wedding of their khalifa to the dark wizard. Torturers had spent the night with Kallia’s brother Omar and his screams could be heard throughout the palace. By late morning, they’d planted his head on a pike atop Toth’s View. The torturers welcomed the dark wizard; he’d promised them their own guild, out from beneath the corrections guild.

  Several thousand more people were led east in chains, including most of Kallia’s army and several hundred slaves. Thousands more might have fled to Horvan or Ter, or one of the cities upon which the wizard’s wrath had fallen less harshly, but Mol Khah’s soldiers guarded the gates and drove back any without legitimate reasons for leaving.

  Even the gardens were defiled; mammoths stripped branches from trees to satisfy voracious appetites. Two giants uprooted a four-hundred-year-old olive tree planted when Balsalom was still young, while Mol Khah’s twelfth phalanx destroyed the khalifa’s vineyards digging for gold coins reported buried for safekeeping beneath its vines.

  The merchant tower rang its bells to open the Grand Bazaar, but few merchants came and fewer customers.

  Balsalom subdued, Cragyn and his army marched west by midday with a blare of trumpets and a great shout of triumph from his army. He left a formidable force behind, including giants and mammoths. Mol Khah, whose enemies called him the butcher of Beltan, after the city he’d razed earlier in the year, stayed to keep Balsalom quiet and raise more troops from the Western Khalifates. He’d brought Kallia to Toth’s View to witness Cragyn’s army issue forth.

  “There marches the high khalif of Mithyl,” Mol Khah said proudly. He dwarfed her in height; his sword alone stood to her shoulder when he planted it on the flagstones.

  “Mithyl? The entire world?” Kallia questioned, resisting the urge to flinch at the expected blow. “King Daniel and the Citadel would argue that assertion. Perhaps the wizard grows overconfident.”

  “By spring, all of Eriscoba will be his. Those foolish barbarian lordlings are no match for Cragyn.”

  “Again,” Kallia said, feeling bold and taking advantage of the pasha’s buoyant mood, “the wizard overestimates his own strength. What man can defeat a Knight Temperate in combat? Now imagine five hundred such knights riding in formation. Your army will be put to flight like sheep beset by wolves.”

  Mol Khah fixed her with a cold glare. “You have no idea what power the wizard wields or you would not make such foolish statements. Perhaps if Balsalom had resisted rather than falling to its knees, woman, you would have seen Cragyn’s wrath kindled.” He smiled. “Yes, but you will see the power soon enough. Perhaps nine months from now.”

  Her stomach clenched. “What do you mean? It was one night. One night is rarely enough for such things.” She turned away, remembering with comfort the tea Saldibar had brewed to prevent such a calamity.

  He shrugged. “One night or many, it does not matter. The wizard cannot plant his seed without it taking root. And when the child is born...” He looked out to the marching army and laughed.

  Kallia turned away. Yes, well she would see. She would drink willow and savin tea every day until she was sure his seed had not taken root. She would drink so many cups of tea that she would throw up at the mere taste of it.

  #

  Mol Khah let his attention slip from the khalifa, and that would prove his downfall. Kallia, who had learned the palace’s secret passages during the paranoid years after the assassinations, made her way that night to a chamber deep in the heart of the palace, where Saldibar had arranged a meeting.

  Father had used this room as sleeping quarters on those nights that he didn’t feel safe. It could be accessed by two hallways. The first from a hidden staircase, itself reached by pulling up tiles in the corner of the garden apartments’ second closet. The second came from a building behind the Fountain Court. It was small enough that the light of a single lamp proved sufficient. Ten men plus Saldibar and Kallia crowded the room, sitting on footstools and chairs. She had a representative of every major guild but the corrections guild. She’d dearly wanted their support as well, but the loyalty of their torturers was suspect. A couple of men grumbled that it was too cold this far beneath the ground, but Saldibar glared them into silence.

  Fenerath, the guildmaster, looked about the room for a moment, before saying, “And you think we can trust everyone here?” He snorted.

  Fenerath had climbed to guildmaster from the weavers guild, a compromise between the powerful merchants and their chief rivals the masons and the wine-makers. Saldibar himself had endorsed Fenerath’s nomination to end an increasingly bitter dispute. But when appointed, the man proved a puppet of nobody, ruining reputations and drying the flow of crucial supplies to any who opposed him. Some accused him of plundering the guild coffers for his own enrichment. Indeed, the man’s ostentatious show of wealth—gold rings, chains, rich robes—did little to dispel this rumor.

  “Yes, I have faith in all of you,” Kallia said, in answer to Fenerath’s question. She held out her hands in a pleading gesture. “There are many hatreds in this room, some of them directed at me. But the one thing you all love is Balsalom.” And money, Kallia thought, but didn’t voice this opinion. “I love Balsalom too. More than my own life. I suggest we forget past rivalries to retake our city.”

  “Still,” Nabah from the merchants guild said with a shrug. He was probably the second least liked person in the room after Fenerath. The merchants guild was rather fond of using its power and wealth to bludgeon the other guilds. “How can we be sure? What if we have a spy?”

  Saldibar said, “Let us hope that we don’t have a spy.” The grand vizier was not liked by everyone either, but all respected him. His presence bolstered this meeting. He raised his eyebrow significantly. “If we do, then every person in this room will be tortured to death.”

  A few uneasy glances went around the room as they each tried to guess who might be a spy. Some eyes strayed to Fenerath, while others merely eyed their opponent from a rival guild.

  Kallia nodded her agreement with the grand vizier. She could sense them swaying, torn between fear and hatred of what the wizard had done. “Yes, and the spy himself will die as horribly as anyone else. Remember how Cragyn made an example of my brother? He doesn’t trust traitors. And why should he? What kind of man turns against his own city, against his brother, his son, his wife.”

  “The first step,” Saldibar said, “is to spirit the khalifa from the palace. Once we get her away from Mol Khah, we can spring our uprising.”

  “And then what?” Fenerath asked the khalifa. “Will you flee the city and leave us to win or lose by our own strengths and weaknesses?”

  She rose from her seat and put her hand on the guildmaster’s arm, then walked aro
und the room, touching each man on the face or hand and looking them in the eyes. Some met her gaze, others looked awkwardly at their hands or fiddled with beards. If they looked down, she lifted their chins so they could meet her gaze. As she did, she expressed her love for her people with her eyes. She bared her soul, showing them the pain in her eyes and her hope. It was a difficult and humbling task. She didn’t know if she succeeded.

  Kallia said, “I surrendered Balsalom once. Never have I made a graver mistake, and never again will I abandon my people. I love this city more than my own life. And if giving my life is what it takes, I will gladly do so.”

  She laid out the details of her plan.

  Each guild maintained a private army from the watchmans guild to enforce city and guild law and, at annoying intervals, to skirmish with other guilds over property and trade rights. These men were not as well armed as the regular army, but they were disciplined, organized, and great believers in the virtue of Balsalom. Gather them together and you would have an army of a thousand men.

  The plan went thus. Saldibar would slip Kallia from the palace while Mol Khah drilled his men in the courtyard. After that, the watchmen would overwhelm the guards on the city walls, and free those men who languished under the corrections guild. They would then surround Mol Khah’s garrison at the palace while the guilds recruited a larger army from the city. Supplementing the watchmen with these new recruits to keep Mol Khah from breaking free, they could then infiltrate the palace through Kallia’s secret passages and destroy the garrison.

  But first, they would wait to let Cragyn’s army entangle itself in the mountains. Move too soon and the wizard would simply turn around and be at their throats before they could retake the city.

  “And now,” she said, returning to her feet, “will all of you swear an oath? Not to me, but to the people of Balsalom that you will do everything in your power to free them from the dark wizard’s tyranny?”