The River Wall

by Randall Garrett

“I have a few old friends among the High Guard, and there are a few young men who have the sense to see what fighting among the Lords will actually mean—the lower city will take advantage of the chaos to overwhelm the Lords. Some see that as wrong, and some merely wish to protect their jobs, but for whatever reason, a good portion of the High Guard will stand with me against any order to attack the guard of another Lord family.

  “Everyone, Lord and craftsman alike, is saying that the only solution to this chaos is the return of the High Lord. I hope this letter will persuade you to assist her speedy return.”

  The letter was unsigned.

  “At least something goes well,” Tarani said. I heard the crackling as she refolded the thin parchment on which her letter was written. “My letter is from Hollin. The conversion of the copper mines is proceeding as planned. Lord City is prosperous and peaceful.”

  I stared at the cell wall, and then at the letter in my hand. Logically, I thought, it ought to be a tossup which letter is lying, since either one could have been faked. But I think I’m the one who has the real McCoy. First, I saw a great deal of Naddam’s handwriting, but Tarani saw only a few samples of Hollin’s. It would be harder to fool me.

  Second, more people have more reasons to lie to Tarani. The longer she’s gone, the more deeply Indomel and Zefra can entrench their political control of the Lords. At least, they would believe that. I’ll bet they don’t have the faintest idea what might happen if Eddarta decides it has had enough, and rebels against Lord City.

  So I believe I know the truth, I thought. The question now is, what do I tell Tarani?

  The question became suddenly urgent as Tarani said: “Your message, Rikardon? Who sent it?”

  There’s nothing she can do about it now, I reasoned. Ferrathyn’s our first priority. After that—if we’re still here—then I’ll let her worry about Eddarta.

  “Ligor,” I said. “He says to tell Zaddorn hello for him.”

  “Ligor!” Zaddorn exclaimed. “I thought he was in Krasa. How is the old rascal?”

  “Busy,” I said, then stopped, struck by a new thought. Unless Ferrathyn has a satellite spy in Chizan, he doesn’t know the passes may be blocked. That might be a piece of information worth hoarding until the proper time.

  Zaddorn heard the sudden stop in my voice, and sighed.

  “Not even news from an old friend, eh? But never mind—what you lack in conversation, you have provided in material for speculation.”

  “I’m sorry, Zaddorn,” I said. “Really sorry.”

  “We can talk of other things,” Tarani said. “How is Illia? I believe your wedding was scheduled for shortly after our departure. Did it go well? Who was there?”

  Zaddorn chuckled. “Actually, it was something of a disaster. Illia, sweet as she is, may never forgive me….”

  I heard him settle to the floor near the wall, and he began to describe the day of the wedding. His duties had kept him out late the night before; he had been tired and clumsy, especially with the celebration feast. Zaddorn described every moment of the day, every person attending, their dress and manner, in such a wry, witty style that Tarani and I both laughed uproariously. At one point, the guard came in to check on us, moving with deliberate quietness. Of course, we knew he was there, incredulous that three people in our situation could laugh about anything, and his presence set us off again.

  When the guard brought us our evening meal, he also brought some unwelcome news.

  “Your hearing has been announced for noon tomorrow,” he said. “And the Council has decided on a closed hearing.”

  When he had gone, Tarani said: “Its too soon!”

  I said nothing, because of Zaddorn. But I had a sick feeling inside. I had not imagined the hearing could be arranged so quickly. It would take the sha’um three days, at a full run, to reach Thagorn.

  Later that night, when Zaddorn had fallen asleep, I rolled over next to Tarani’s cell and spoke through one of the lowest openings. “Tarani, are you awake?” I called softly.

  “Yes,” she answered immediately, from a point directly on the other side of the wall. A lamp had been set in the corridor to burn all night, but little of that light penetrated the latticed door. I could barely see the movement as her fingers appeared in one of the openings.

  “Rikardon, I have been thinking. No matter what Thanasset has promised, Ferrathyn cannot afford for us to appear before the Council. He must keep the Ra’ira with him at all times; he would not risk my being in the same room with it.”

  “I’ve been thinking along those lines, myself,” I said.

  “He will try to have us killed.”

  “But not tonight,” I added. “He’s still trying to keep on Thanasset’s good side, or we would already be dead. Thanasset offered us the protection of Council law, and he would suspect the coincidence of our getting killed by guards, no matter what excuse is offered. No, Ferrathyn will want to find a way to kill us by mandate of the citizenship.”

  “The mob,” Tarani said.

  “Exactly. There will be only one opportunity—when we’re being escorted to the Council chambers.”

  “We must be ready,” she said.

  “No, you must be ready,” I corrected her gently. “You can disguise yourself fairly easily. I will stay and be their target. Who knows, they may even let me talk, and listen to me.”

  “I would not leave you!” she said fiercely.

  “Only to save me,” I said.

  “Listen to me, Tarani. Ferrathyn’s taking a chance with this hearing. He wouldn’t risk it at all if he weren’t ready to make his final move. I think we’ve lost the chance to wait for the Sharith. We have to tackle him ourselves if we want even a slim hope of getting out of this mess alive.

  “You have to get into operating range of the Ra’ira, Tarani. That’s the only way we can be sure of breaking Ferrathyn’s control of the city.”

  “I was boastful, earlier,” she said. “What if I cannot break free of the mob, or I am too late to save you?” Her fingers stroked mine, very gently.

  “We can only do what feels most right, Tarani,” I said. “Your boast was true; you can beat him, I know it. Something else you said earlier is true too. This is the final battle; we can’t hold anything back.” She was silent for a long time. “You once said you have no regrets,” I reminded her. “Is that still true, Tarani?”

  “With one exception,” she said. “I deeply regret that we must spend this night with a wall of brick between us.”

  We lay silently, together but separate, our hands barely touching through the wall. I sent a sleepy thought toward Keeshah, and received a sense of his total concentration on running. He was moving by scent through the darkest part of the night, and I shared his awareness of other sha’um moving around him.

  I won’t disturb your concentration, Keeshah, I thought to myself. It would only upset you, anyway, to know that you’ll get here too late to help. I don’t see a chance in the world of my surviving—all I want to do is buy Tarani the time she needs. You’ll know when it happens, I thought, with a sensation of writing a letter I knew would never get mailed. But now you won’t be so alone, Keeshah. You’ll have Koshah and Yoshah. I’m glad that happened.

  Tarani and I were awake at first light, having slept only fitfully. A different guard brought us a breakfast of water and porridge, and a bowl of water to use in washing. Time passed slowly. It was Zaddorn who put into words what was on all our minds. “I have an uneasy feeling about your leaving these protected, if uncomfortable, walls,” he said, just before we heard the corridor door clang open.

  “They will be safe,” said Thanasset. “I have promised they will be heard.”

  The lattice door across my cell was lifted away, and I stepped out into the hallway to face Thanasset. The guard moved to Tarani’s cell and began opening the bronze fastenings into which her door was mounted. Thanasset misread the look on my face.

  “Are you so surprised that I should keep my word, Rikardo
n?” he asked bitterly.

  “Don’t come with us,” I urged him. “There’s going to be trouble, Father, and I’m sure Ferrathyn would jump at the chance to see you dead.”

  He drew back in shock, and for just a moment, he seemed on the point of asking me to explain. Then his face closed up again. “I told you yesterday,” he said angrily, “to save your comments for the hearing.”

  “We will never reach the hearing,” I said.

  “That’s enough!” He turned on his heel and walked toward the door. The guard waited for Tarani and me to follow him, then came out. He closed and locked the door.

  “Keep safe!” Zaddorn shouted after us.

  Outside, the cloud-diffused sunlight seemed terribly bright after the dimness of the cells, and Tarani and I could only stand and blink for a moment. By the time we could see clearly, we were surrounded by a squad of guards. One of them was the man who had been in front of Thanasset’s house, the one through whom I had looked into the eyes of Ferrathyn.

  The eight men formed a marching group around Tarani and me, and Thanasset moved out in front of the group.

  I felt the keen edge of energy that was, by now, familiar and welcome—it marked the shift from waiting to doing. It was both like and unlike the other times—when I had decided to enter Lord City and contact Tarani’s mother, when I had finally made the commitment to search for Kä and the second steel sword. The relief of action after inactivity was there, but there was also a greater weight of fear, and awareness of the consequences of failure.

  Always before, I had defined success partly in terms of my own survival. That was not the case now. During the night, I had considered the possibility that I had already accomplished all that I was meant to do in Gandalara. I had been the mechanism by which the sha’um had been saved. I had been the first to comprehend the significance of the earthquake and volcanic eruption. I had brought Tarani, integrated with Antonia and somewhat protected from Ferrathyn’s power, to a place where she had a fair chance to defeat Ferrathyn. Zanek had come back. He could be the one meant to lead Gandalara into a new life, beyond the borders it had always known. For the first time since my arrival in Gandalara, I felt a deep sense of having fulfilled my destiny.

  Once again, I had come to terms with imminent death.

  Just don’t bet I’ll go quietly, I said to myself, aiming the thought at Ferrathyn, or that I’ll be alone when I go.

  The Council offices—and the vault where the Ra’ira had been kept—were in the building directly opposite the confinement center, but the Council met, officially, in a large building at the edge of the largest city square. It was a distance of some ten blocks, and my nerves were on edge as we passed each side street. I noticed that our “friend” from the day before had taken up a position directly behind Thanasset, and that only made me more sure that an attack was planned. Tarani looked back at me once, tilting her head slightly in Thanasset’s direction, and I nodded.

  Apparently, no attempt had been made to keep our capture a secret. From the moment we left the jail, a crowd of people had gathered to follow us, calling out angrily. More people joined them from the side streets as we moved along the wide avenue. Thanasset turned to talk to one of the guards, and our escort spread out to keep as much distance as possible between us and the crowd, and still form a containment ring around us.

  We were nearly in the square when it happened. Tarani, as she had promised, was ready for it.

  Out of the side street ahead of us ran a group of armed men, not in uniform but moving with an air of trained precision. At the exact moment they appeared, someone in the crowd behind us yelled: “Kill the traitors!” The crowd surged forward from behind, forcing the rear guards to whirl around to face them. Thanasset had drawn his sword and was standing his ground against the oncoming group. Behind him, the guard drew back the hand which held his dagger.

  I slammed my shoulder into the guard on my right, snatching the man’s dagger from its sheath as he fell away from me. Then I leaped forward.

  The guard, and the men in front of us, were staring in confusion at Thanasset, who had taken on the appearance of Milda.

  Thank you, Tarani, I thought fervently.

  The High Lord herself was nowhere to be seen.

  I wrapped my left arm around the neck of the guard behind Thanasset and buried my dagger in his right side. The men in front yelled, and Thanasset whirled around. The half-image of Milda—transparent only to me, I was sure—wavered and faded, and it was clearly Thanasset who stared at me, the guard, our positions, and the dagger clutched in the mans hand.

  Something changed in Thanasset’s eyes,

  “I don’t have time to explain now,” I said. “Defend yourself!”

  Apparently, Ferrathyn had assigned the guard to Thanasset specifically, and was counting on the distraction of the mob and the efficiency of the armed group to finish off Tarani and me. All our original guards were defending their own lives against the angry mob, which left Thanasset and me to hold our own against the armed squad which had appeared so suddenly. Wordlessly, Thanasset tossed me his own dagger to supplement the one I had stolen, and he faced the attackers with only his sword. With our former guards, we formed a shoulder-to-shoulder circle of defense—nine men against nearly a hundred wild-eyed, frantic people caught up in a mob mentality.

  I steeled myself against sympathy for them, and fought hard beside Thanasset. There were too many for us. A sword slashed into Thanasset’s side, and he fell beside me. I killed the man who had hurt him, then I pulled Markasset’s father into the center of the circle of guards. I cradled his shoulders in my arms and hugged his head to my chest.

  “Rikardon,” he said, gasping for breath. “What happened? Tell me, what happened?”

  “The Ra’ira never left Raithskar,” I said. “Ferrathyn has had it all along. The vineh are under his control.”

  “Ferrathyn?” Thanasset demanded, and then coughed painfully. “The Council has to know!” He struggled to stand up.

  “The Council will know,” I assured him, gently forcing him back. His tunic was soaked with blood around the ugly slash in his side, and blood was pooling on the cobbled street beneath him. “Tarani is on her way there now. She can use the Ra’ira, Thanasset. She’ll beat him.”

  The old man looked up at me. The small scar on his brow looked dark against the stark, sudden paleness of his face. “So many lies,” he said. “And I believed him. I let him use me. I betrayed you. Forgive me, son.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “You saved us, too,” I said, “and Ferrathyn deceived us all. But listen to me, Thanasset,” I urged him. “Its all more important than just Ferrathyn, just the Ra’ira, just Raithskar. The life of Gandalara itself is at stake. We’re going to win, Father, and you’ve helped us win.” I groped for something more to say. “Markasset would have been very proud of you.”

  The old man smiled at that. He seemed to have passed the point of pain from the wound in his side; I knew he could not last much longer.

  “Markasset proud?” Thanasset said. “And what does Rikardon think of Thanasset?”

  “I—I love you … Father.”

  He smiled more broadly, and brought a weak hand up to cover mine and squeeze it. He nodded slightly, and then his eyes went out of focus and his hand fell away, limp as the rest of his body.

  28

  I clutched at the old man’s body, kneeling in the eye of a hurricane of strife, and I screamed inside my head. The battle, Ferrathyn, the danger Tarani faced—all were momentarily forgotten in the grief I felt for the kind man who had done nothing but want the best for his family and his city.

  It was only when I noticed the cessation of movement around me that I realized what had caused it—my silent scream of grief, voiced in the throats of three sha’um. I laid Thanasset’s head on the ground as gently as I could, then leaped to my feet.

  *Keeshah!*

  *Stay,* Keeshah said. *Coming.*

  And come he did, straight down th
e main avenue of Raithskar, scattering people every which way. The fight around me had stopped at the chilling, unrepeated sound of the sha’um cry, and everyone was milling about uncertainly. In the square west of me, Keeshah leaped into view and waited. He was joined, a moment later, by the cubs, and the three sha’um crouched and began a menacing advance toward the crowd.

  The crowd disappeared into the side streets.

  Quickly.

  The cubs rubbed against me on either side, and Keeshah lowered his head to nudge Thanasset with his muzzle. Keeshah’s mind was so full of sympathy and personal loss that I had to resist letting grief recapture me.

  Another sha’um appeared in the square, this one carrying a Rider. He waved and rode over to us, then jumped down and hugged me. It was Thymas. When he released me, he saw the body, and looked at me curiously.

  “Thanasset,” I said. “My father.”

  “Oh,” he said, and pressed my shoulder. “I am sorry, Captain.”

  I nodded, then asked: “How did you get here so fast?”

  “We were barely a half-day behind you all the way,” Thymas answered, and grinned. “Zanek told me what you had planned, and also that you had given him full authority to use his own judgment. His judgment dictated that we not allow you the opportunity to face Ferrathyn alone.”

  “Where is Zanek?” I asked.

  Thymas shrugged. “We encountered several large groups of vineh—some of us are still fighting them. After your sha’um met us last night, Zanek rode Yayshah. We got separated during one of the battles. I have not seen him since.” He looked around. “For that matter,” he said in a worried voice, “where is Tarani?”

  I went cold inside. “She was trying to reach the Council chamber,” I said, pointing across the square, “to face Ferrathyn alone.”

  We could have run across the square in only a short time, but our sense of urgency was such that Thymas and I both leaped on the sha’um to ride to the Council chamber. We dismounted running, and crashed through the double doors of the high-ceilinged room together.

  Tarani was not there. No one was there—no one alive, that is. Seated and lying on the benches that ringed the floor of the room were the torn and bloody bodies of the other Supervisors.