The River Wall

by Randall Garrett

  “Release her. Now.”

  They let her go, and she slipped under Thanasset’s arm, backing away from the leader and toward me. Thanasset followed her, also backing, keeping both daggers at ready.

  “They are in my custody,” he said. “You have fulfilled your duty by capturing them, and I will commend you to the Council. Now, I feel sure you have other assignments …”

  He stood there, waiting, protecting us, until they all accepted the situation and moved off down the street. The leader was the last to go, and he backed away. Only when they were out of sight did Thanasset turn to us.

  “In the house, quickly,” he said, and helped Tarani drag me to my feet. Once I was standing, my head cleared a little, and I was able to walk into the house under my own power.

  When we were inside, I turned to Thanasset to thank him, but was cut off.

  “Say nothing to me,” he ordered coldly. “As a Supervisor, I granted your request for a hearing; it is fully within the law. Anything you have to say must wait for the formal hearing.”

  “You tried to save us before the request was made,” Tarani said. She flinched back when Thanasset turned his gaze to her.

  “I thought you were Zaddorn and Illia,” he said.

  “You knew about Ferrathyn’s kill-on-sight orders for us, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” the old man said, “but they were less orders than official agreement with public intent. You brought a fine distinction to my family, Rikardon,” he said bitterly. “In all the history of Raithskar, no one has been so hated as my son.”

  “Or so wronged,” Tarani said quietly.

  “Or misled,” Thanasset snapped, staring at her coldly.

  Tarani drew up to her full height and I could see that Thanasset was not immune to the dignity and force of her presence. He took a small step back from Tarani.

  “When we met, Thanasset, you kissed my hand in tender welcome, and you opened your home to me,” Tarani said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I saw the love you bore your son, and the respect you offered the man who had replaced him. I had comfort here, and a sense of goodness.

  “When we arrived in Raithskar, and heard those ugly lies, Rikardon convinced me that only with your help did we have hope of being fairly heard. I heard his logic, and I heard his need to be able to trust you. I listened to my own memory, and longed for the warmth I remembered here.

  “This is not the same place I remember so fondly,” she said, and her voice turned stern and cold. “Your home, and your mind, have been corrupted by the same force that is destroying your city, and remaining here will corrupt the warm memory I cherish. I prefer to take my chances with the city guards.”

  She walked past him, and he caught her arm. “You are in my custody,” he said.

  “Take your hand from me,” she demanded.

  Thanasset looked uncertain, and removed his hand.

  “I shall not force you to stay here,” he said, “but I cannot allow you freedom—this for your own sake as much as for my guarantee. You may find a restriction cell much more to your liking, and your presence there places an obligation on the guard to protect your lives, rather than take them. For your safety, I will be pleased to escort you personally.”

  He opened the front door, and Tarani moved through it. Thanasset waited for me to go through, then he came out. There was a sudden, furtive movement down the street.

  “You, there,” Thanasset called, and one of the guards who had recently “left” came fully into view, looking a trifle embarrassed. “Go ahead to the warden and tell him to expect two prisoners shortly, and that he will be held personally accountable for their safety until the hearing is held. Go on!” he shouted, when the man did not move immediately. The guard did move then, running as if he had been stung.

  The place where Thanasset took us was an extension of the building in which Zaddorn—or, rather, the current Chief of Peace and Security, whoever that might be—had his office. The building was made of fired clay brick, and the interiors of the cells resembled nothing so much as Keeshah’s house on Thanasset’s property.

  Each cell had three walls with no windows, but with a regular pattern of missing bricks. The holes allowed air circulation, and those in the outside wall admitted dim light. The interior wall had a small doorway which was blocked by a frame of latticed wood, mounted in bronze clasps on either side of the opening—on the guard’s side of the door, of course. Each cell had a pallet, a nightpail, and a pitcher of fresh water.

  Thanasset stood by while Tarani was locked up in one cell, then he escorted me to the next one. As the door was fitted into place, I looked through the widely spaced slats at the man I respected as if he were my own father. His face was grim, and he lingered a moment, seemingly wanting to say something, but uncertain as to what.

  I was feeling pretty much the same way. It was only when he started to turn away that I found my voice.

  “Wait,” I called. “Just one minute, please. I won’t say anything to prejudice the hearing.”

  He faced me again, waiting.

  “I want only one more thing from you,” I said. “At the hearing, I want you to truly listen to what Tarani and I say. Listen with your whole being, Thanasset, and with an open mind. Only then will the truth be clear to you.”

  “I have guaranteed your presence to the Council,” Thanasset said. “Now I offer you the guarantee of a fair hearing.”

  “That’s beyond your power,” I said flatly, and I saw lines of anger form across his brow. “All I want is for you to listen fairly—and maybe to wonder, between now and then, why I think it’s even necessary to remind you of your duty to be impartial.”

  He looked at me for a moment longer, frowning. Then he turned and left.

  A set of fingers appeared in the side wall opposite the one I shared with Tarani’s cell. The open places left in the brick were not large enough to admit the whole hand, but I thought I recognized the strong, elegant fingers. I touched them, and the voice from beyond the wall confirmed my guess.

  “Well, well,” Zaddorn said with a chuckle. “Indestructible as always, I see.”

  “You knew about the kill-on-sight order?” I asked.

  “Objecting to that order put me in here,” he said. The fingers twisted slightly, so that they could grasp mine. He whispered: “It is the Ra’ira causing this madness, is it not?”

  I had told Zaddorn about the true nature of the Ra’ira on our last visit to Raithskar. Zaddorn had been given the task of controlling the vineh—far less dangerous then than now—but he had been given the same lie as the rest of the city about why they were out of control. I had thought it only fair, and very much in the interest of protecting the city, that he be aware that the vineh had been suppressed and directed by the use of the Ra’ira and were now free of that direction. At the time, I had still believed that the Ra’ira had actually been taken out of Raithskar.

  I squeezed his fingers. “That’s exactly right, Zaddorn. Ferrathyn has had it all along. I didn’t know—or, believe me, I would have told you.”

  “I do believe you,” Zaddorn said bitterly. “We’ve all been taken for fools. The citizens, the Council—all of us. I began to realize it when Ferrathyn began giving orders as if he carried the authority of the entire Council. And no one else objected, Rikardon! Am I the only one who sees the man clearly?”

  “There are others who know—”

  “Caution, my love,” Tarani warned. “Remember that Ferrathyn cannot see our thoughts.”

  “But they are all outside of Raithskar,” I finished. “When we are heard in Council, more will know the truth.”

  Zaddorn was silent for a moment. “Do you really believe he will let you live to speak to the Council?”

  That depends on how confident he is, I thought, and on how much he is using his power directly. If he has merely guided the Council, then he still needs their goodwill. He wouldn’t dare have us killed before Thanasset provides us the hearing he’s promised us.
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br />   “It’s what we’re counting on. Zaddorn, I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that.”

  “You can’t—” he began angrily. “Oh. I see.” His fingers withdrew, and I heard the sound of his fist striking the wall. “It is … degrading to know that my thoughts may not be my own,” he said, “and that I might be a danger to my friends.”

  I knew Zaddorn’s pride and sense of control, and I could hear in his voice the pain this situation was causing him. I had no comfort to offer him, but Tarani spoke up suddenly from the other cell.

  “Zaddorn, can you hear me?” she asked, speaking in the same soft tones we had all adopted.

  “Yes, Tarani, I hear you,” Zaddorn answered.

  “Then be encouraged,” she said. “That we choose not to share our knowledge with you is merely a sensible precaution. It is my feeling that the true power of the Ra’ira lies in the secrecy of its nature, and in its use on those who do not suspect its power. Think—if Ferrathyn had such power over you, would he have allowed you to oppose him to the extent of public confrontation? There are others, obviously, whom he does control. The difference must lie in your knowledge, Zaddorn. You knew the Ra’ira’s power, and suspected its use. You are a public figure, a man respected among the citizens of Raithskar. It would have been much to Ferrathyn’s benefit to have you seem to support him. But such subtle control was beyond his power, so he chose to discredit you and isolate you physically. To me, that says he cannot reach you, use you, control you—because you know it can be done, and would be alert to the intrusion of his mind.“

  “Thank you for saying that, High Lord,” Zaddorn said. “Yet it is only speculation, is it not?”

  “Speculation from one who has felt the force of his power directly,” Tarani said quietly. “And—forgive me, Zaddorn—if you hear my words, Ferrathyn, hear this too: I am your equal in power and by far your superior in other ways. Your defeat is at hand.”

  I stared at the wall in shock, and Zaddorn was utterly silent for that same period. Suddenly, he laughed.

  “Well done, Tarani. I know the Chief Supervisor very well, and he could not have restrained a reaction to that challenge. You have made your point—both points, in fact. I have renewed faith that I can resist the Ra’ira’s power. But that I am doing it now is no certainty that I do it always. I consent, in better spirit, to being left ignorant of your plans. I wish you success, and would help if I were able.”

  “Thank you,” I said, but was interrupted by a ruckus at the entrance to the wing of cells.

  “I don’t care what your orders are, or who they come from,” a determined voice was saying. “You either let me in there to visit my nephew, or I’ll disturb your precious Peace and Security until you’ll have to let me in as a prisoner!”

  27

  I grinned and moved over to the latticed-wood barrier.

  “Hit him, Milda!” I shouted through the door. “Then he’ll have to arrest you!”

  I heard the sound of a scuffle, then light footsteps, running, followed by a heavier tramping. “All right,” said the voice of the guard as he opened the door into the narrow building, lined with cells. “But you can’t stay long. When I say it’s time, you come out of there, no argument. Right?”

  “No, it’s not right,” Milda said. “But I agree. Now open the fleabitten door!”

  I heard the latch pull up, and the door open, and then Milda’s footsteps came hesitantly down the aisle between the opposing cells.

  “Here, Milda,” I called. “Next to the last, on your left.”

  Suddenly she was there in front of me, looking older and more frail than I remembered. She had gone nearly totally bald, but there was still a bright alertness in her eyes. Alertness—and doubt.

  It hurt.

  “You, too, Milda?” I said. “Why did you come, then?”

  Like a rainbow following a storm, something beautiful swept into Milda’s eyes. She came forward to where my hand was resting on one of the crosspieces of the door, and she touched my hand lightly at first, then more firmly. A soft sadness came into her face, and I ached to set the bars aside and hold her.

  “Has the world gone mad, Rikardon? I came because I didn’t want to believe it, but I couldn’t know for sure until I had seen you, heard your voice. I wasn’t home when you came, or I would have seen the truth then, and Thanasset would never have sent you here.”

  “We left your home by choice, Milda,” Tarani said from the next cell. “Without the love and welcome we shared there, it is as barren as this cell.”

  Milda left me a moment, and went out of my line of sight to speak through Tarani’s cell door. “We’ve just put some of that love back, my girl, and Thanasset will add his share again, if I’ve anything to say about it. I don’t know what has gotten into the man!”

  Ferrathyn’s control, I answered silently. Tarani’s right about knowledge making a difference. For Thanasset to be so mired in the public attitude, Ferrathyn must have been working on him slowly, for as long as he has been a Supervisor, to prepare him for this.

  “We do,” I said, “and, Milda, you’re not to try to change him, do you hear me? If you can keep him from knowing you’ve seen me, that would be even better.”

  The old lady came back to my cell and stared at me.

  “You will only create danger for yourself and Thanasset,” I said. “And you could make our situation worse, not better. We’re being held for a Council hearing, and after that …”

  “After that, things will be better?” she asked skeptically.

  “Either better, or over,” I said. “The point is, nothing can be done until then. Promise me you’ll be patient.”

  She stared a moment longer, then nodded sharply. “I have to say, Rikardon, that I loved Markasset. He was a rogue in manner and a child at heart, and I was always in a turmoil over the misunderstandings he had with his father. But complicated as life was then, it’s gotten worse since you arrived. It’s certainly beyond this old mind to figure out what’s going on. I’ll keep still, as you ask.”

  “Thank you, darling,” I said. “I think Markasset would say that the stakes are high in this game.”

  She pressed my hand again. “I just want you to know one thing,” she said. “This change in Thanasset—its not his fault. There was just so much public opinion that—” Her voice broke, and she paused for a moment. “He’s fleabitten blind, that’s what he is, or else he could see the goodness shine in you, as I do.”

  “Milda, darling,” I said, and grasped her fingers. “Its not his fault. I do know that. Now—I think its best you go, Milda. It would break my heart if you were hurt because of me.”

  “All right, Rikardon,” she said. She sort of shook herself, and stepped away, but before she had actually started for the door, Zaddorn spoke up from the end cell.

  “Milda, if you see Illia, tell her I am well.”

  “Zaddorn?” Milda exclaimed, and stalked down to look through his doorway. “In your own cell?” She came into view again as she took a huge step back from the door, her hands held up in front of her. “I won’t ask, I suppose I really don’t want to know. I’ll give Illia the message, Zaddorn—message!”

  She came toward me, fumbling with her tunic belt pouch.

  “I almost forgot the reason—well, the excuse, anyway—for my visit,” she said, as she pulled two folded papers, sealed with wax, out of the pouch. “The maufel came to the house the other day, ranting about duty only going so far. He said these had come for you two, and maybe he was obligated to deliver them, but he figured nothing forced him to deal directly with traitors. I was related to you, so he gave them to me. Thanasset, by the way, was not there at the time.”

  She handed one of the papers to me.

  “This one is addressed to you.” Then she moved to Tarani’s cell and said: “And this one to the High Lord of Eddarta. I presume that’s you, dear?”

  “Yes, Milda, thank you. And thank you for coming.”

  “You take care,”
Milda said. “I hope you’ll come home soon.”

  “I hope so too.”

  Milda walked to the end of the corridor and banged on the door, which opened almost immediately. “Where have you been?” she scolded the guard. “I’ve been twiddling my thumbs for the past five minutes, waiting for you to say ‘time.’”

  The door closed behind Milda, and Zaddorn said: “I think that guard will be delighted to see the last of your aunt, my friend.”

  “She’s certainly one of a kind,” I said.

  “Your messages?” Zaddorn said. “I never realized how boring these cells can be. May I know what is in them?”

  I opened mine just as I heard the snap of the wax seal from Tarani’s cell. My letter was from Naddam, the man who had once been my supervisor at an Eddartan copper mine. The very fact that he had written to me was not encouraging, and I opened the letter with a sense of dread.

  The letter was written in the neat handwriting that I had seen throughout the mines bookkeeping records. It struck me again that there was nothing in the mans rough and burly appearance to hint at the precision of his handwriting, the clarity of his thinking, and the depth of his humanity.

  “You asked me to tell you if Indomel and Zefra were meeting their agreement with the High Lord,“ the letter began, with no salutation. “The answer is no. Together, they have taken over control of Lord City. Hollin is dead, assassinated. All the High Lords reforms have been reversed, and anyone from Lower Eddarta who dares to speak of the High Lord is enslaved and sent to the copper mines. They are saying it was too good to be true, that the High Lord has abandoned them. Anger is growing in the lower city, and guild groups are threatening to deny their product to the Lords, saying that if all guild members stand together, their power can equal that of Pylomel’s wife and son. A few of the Lords continue to support the High Lords policies, but Indomel has made it clear that the High Guard will act against anyone who dares to defy him in public.