A Shadow on the Glass

by Ian Irvine

  Lilis’s eyes bulged. “ The Magister! ” she said.

  “No more! The usurper is overthrown. Mendark is back—the real Magister. Help me.”

  Tallia hurried around the room, checking for signs of life. The guards had recovered and fled, save one who lay in a puddle of blood on the far side. He was dead—had fallen on his sword and bled to death, by the look of it.

  As she turned away to the next, Lilis caught sight of a small bare foot protruding from under the guard’s billowing cape. She lifted the cloth to reveal a small woman with a pale face surrounded by a wild froth of fiery red hair.

  “It’s Karan,” said Tallia, “Llian’s friend.”

  Various emotions crossed Lilis’s face: concern, envy. “Is she dead?”

  Tallia bent down swiftly. “No, but without help she could die.”

  Karan’s face was set in an expression so sad that it made tears spring to Tallia’s eyes. If only I had helped her, she thought, none of this need have come about. She rolled Karan over. Her shirt was bloody from breast to hip. Tallia tore the shirt open, expecting to see a mortal wound, but there was none. It was the guard’s blood.

  Tallia looked around. “That’s strange,” she said, furrowing her brow.

  “What?”

  There had been many people at the Conclave but a lot were gone, including several faces that she was looking for: Faelamor, Maigraith, Llian. “Where’s Llian? He would never have left Karan.”

  “Llian’s gone,” said Lilis. “The big man took him.”

  “Big man?” Tallia asked, checking Karan’s vital signs. The pulse was erratic, her skin clammy, and her eyes flickered back and forth under her eyelids. Tallia lifted one. The eyes were deep green; the pupils hardly reacted to the light. She was probably not in immediate danger though, if kept warm and dry. Tallia tore the cape off the guard, wrapped Karan in it, round and round, and then put her out of the way against the wall. Nothing more could be done for her at the moment. She turned to the next casualty.

  Beneath a window was a mound of fallen drapes, halfcovering a huge jelly of a woman swathed in the scarlet and purple gown of the High Court. The dignity of the office was marred by a red mouth sagging open and dentures hanging out. Her face was as round as the moon, with eyes that looked tiny in their pouches of fat. Yellowgray hair was cut straight across at the level of her ears.

  “Who is she ?” Lilis piped up.

  “Justice Orstand,” said Tallia, greatly relieved. With Orstand on their side there was always hope. She was the most powerful intellect on the Council, a friend that Mendark relied on greatly. “Water, quickly!”

  Lilis scurried away to return with a blue jug, which she promptly poured on the judge’s face. Orstand shuddered and tried to get up, but wobbled on her legs. Tallia hurriedly thrust a chair under her.

  Orstand looked around the room. “Is Nelissa—?”

  “Dead!” Tallia said harshly. She explained their situation.

  “Oh!” said Orstand. “But Mendark’s right—the Old City is our only refuge.” Its walls were high and strong and the citadel inside it stronger yet. Though surely not enough to resist Yggur.

  “Can you walk, Orstand?”

  Orstand gave a smile of sorts. “See to the others, my friend. When they’re ready to go, I will be too.”

  Embracing the old woman, Tallia went on with her work. There were other dead, quite a few, mostly the old and the frail. Too late for them, but several people were on their feet already after Lilis’s rough ministering with the water jug and a wet cloth.

  Tallia remembered something Lilis had said earlier. “What did you say about Llian?” she asked, but before the child could answer there was shouting, screaming and sounds of battle nearby. Dread shivered down Tallia’s backbone. They would be trapped!

  “Lilis,” she cried. The waif’s eyes showed the fear they both felt. “Go and see what is happening. See how close the enemy is.”

  The girl hesitated, staring at her with those huge eyes. Tallia, thinking that she wanted payment, fumbled for the purse that hung at her waist. Lilis struck her hand aside; then, realizing that she had hit the chief lieutenant of the Magister and might be slain on the spot, leapt away saying, “I go, I go!”

  “Lilis!” Tallia called. She came back warily. “Be careful.” Tallia embraced the grubby little urchin. Lilis looked astounded, then a tiny smile broke across her face. “You will come back?” said Tallia. Normally so capable, she now felt overwhelmed.

  “I come back,” Lilis said, her eyes shining, then she was gone.

  Tallia hurried across to Orstand, who was bent over another of the bodies, trying to bring it back to consciousness. She looked about to collapse again; every breath rattled in her massive chest.

  “I can’t decide who to take and who to leave,” agonized Tallia. “Is a judge more important than a doctor? A wealthy merchant more valuable than a young woman?”

  “You can’t choose that way,” said Orstand, looking up. The flesh sagged off her face like overly wet dough. “The group must come before the individual. Anyone who can’t walk, or falls down and can’t get up again, must be left behind. And that includes me.”

  “I could never leave you behind,” said Tallia, staring at the old woman.

  Orstand wheezed with laughter. “I’d like to see you carry me!”

  Tallia smiled at the thought. Soon seven people were more or less ready to walk. They included Thyllan, his hair sticking out in all directions as though electrified, and Hennia the Zain, the other member of the Council, an old, saggy woman whose eyes had gone blank. A badly bitten tongue hung out the corner of her mouth. There were also two members of the Assembly, the puppet government of Thurkad, long dominated by the Governor on one hand and the Magister on the other. The other two were strangers, though they both looked important.

  They were in much the state that she had been in before Mendark woke her, but she did not know how to do the same for them. Several more were in worse condition, flopped over chairs and benches like dolls stuffed with grass. If they could be roused she might be able to get some of them to safety too. And there were quite a few like Karan, who might live or die, but would have to be carried. Worthy people all.

  Save for Orstand, her seven could have been senile. Thyllan was wandering aimlessly around the room, but most of the others just stared at the wall, mumbling to themselves. Hennia kept saying, “I don’t want to go. Mendark is finished!” Tallia was almost in despair by the time Lilis came running back.

  “Soldiers coming!” she cried. “Must go now!” Grabbing Tallia’s hand, Lilis tried to pull her toward the door.

  Tallia resisted. “We’ve got to take them with us. Give me a hand.”

  Between the three of them they got the ablebodied into a shambling line at the door, but it took all of Lilis’s efforts to keep them there while Tallia tried to rouse the other group. Outside, the shouting and noises of battle grew louder.

  “Must go now! ” Lilis screamed.

  Tallia looked back at Karan, torn between her feelings and her responsibilities. It was not just that she liked Karan. She was a sensitive too, a priceless talent, especially in time of war. Anyone left behind was probably condemned to death, but not everybody could be saved. She ran back to Karan and took her hand, then laid it down again, unable to choose.

  “Go on, Lilis. I’ll catch you.”

  Karan moaned, flinging her head from side to side. Suddenly coming to a decision, Tallia bent down to pick her up, then one of the comatose sat up, a short, rather stout man called Prathitt, a wealthy merchant and legislator. A fussily trimmed spade beard drew attention from his rapidly receding hairline. He staggered toward the door, waving his arms and shouting gibberish.

  Tallia caught him just outside and slapped her hand over his mouth and nose, cutting off the racket. A small knot of people ran past, shrieking and moaning, then a signal horn called from up the street. Another answered it from around the back of the Great Hall. She loo
ked about frantically, to see Lilis shepherding her crew into a mean alley. Orstand, at the rear, moved with the tottering, widelegged gait of a toddler.

  “Hurry!” Lilis screamed.

  Tallia agonized in the doorway. There were about a dozen people left and she knew most of them. Some would die without help. Maybe all of them, if the enemy found them. Her patient began to thrash about again. If she carried Karan, this fellow would give them away. Then someone attacked the back door of the hall, the hammer blows echoing inside. Too late! Pulling the door closed, she hauled Prathitt across the road.

  The rain was falling more heavily now. Within the alley it was almost as black as tar and slippery underfoot. Another clot of people ran down the street. Behind them Tallia heard the rhythmic tread of a squad of marching soldiers. She moved up the alley, slipping and skidding on what felt like decaying leaves. There was an odor of rotten cabbage, and the further up she went, worse filth.

  “Lilis,” she whispered hoarsely.

  There was no answer. Tallia heard the sound of falling water and the next second walked right under a torrent discharging from the roof. She wiped her eyes and stared uselessly into the darkness. The mouth of the alley was a lighted rectangle, partly obscured by mist. The tramping grew louder.

  Prathitt, roused by the soaking, shouted an obscenity and flung up his arms. One fist caught her a painful blow on the cheek. Tallia struggled with him, making more noise than she liked. He was very strong, and when she eventually got her hand over his mouth, he bit her so hard that he drew blood. Cursing, she struck him on the side of the head, knocking him down.

  Someone yelled behind her. Yggur’s soldiers were moving back and forth in the road. One approached the alley, holding up a blazing torch. Her patient began to stir. Tallia put her foot on his back, pushing him down into the mud. The torch went away, though the soldiers could still be seen in the street lights. The rest of the squad must be checking the Great Hall, she supposed, feeling her failure very strongly. Where had Lilis gone with her lot? Probably abandoned them as soon as the soldiers appeared. Who could blame her? There was no one to look out for her but herself.

  Tallia heaved Prathitt to his feet, hauling him backwards up the alley, when without warning he put his muddy hands on her face and shoved. She overbalanced and fell backwards against a water barrel, hitting her head. For a moment she stared into a whirlpool, like being back in her earlier trance, then her head cleared and she sat up, trying to clean the muck out of her eyes. Reeling footsteps disappeared up the lane.

  The light appeared again, and the silhouette of a soldier.Tallia bowed her head, praying that he would not come up. After a long interval the light faded. She crept back to the mouth and saw a squad of soldiers standing guard up the street. No chance of going back for Karan now. Nursing her bruises, Tallia headed up the alley to find her sick.

  Two hours later, in pouring rain, she reached the gates of the Old City, having been hopelessly lost in the back streets. Not only had she failed to find Prathitt but she had not come across Lilis or any of her seven either. She felt like an utter fool and was tempted to go back to the Great Hall, but Mendark’s guards summoned her to the audience chamber.

  The large room was crowded with splendidly garbed officers and aides, while twenty clerks sat at a row of desks along one wall, writing orders furiously and passing their strips of paper to the messengers who ran in and out. Mendark stood before a large canvas map of the city, arguing with an officer gorgeously attired in the Magister’s colors, scarlet and blue. That put Tallia in an even worse mood.

  It was Berenet the dandy, Mendark’s other chief lieutenant, his magnificent mustachioes freshly waxed and coiled. His garments were silk and velvet; he wore a ruff of purple lace at his throat that helped to conceal a sunken chest. Tallia wondered where he had been lately. What with her own travels, and his, she hadn’t seen him for half a year. She nodded curtly. Grinning, Berenet inspected her from head to toe.

  Mendark looked haggard, though she noticed that he’d had time to bathe and change his clothes. “What happened to you?” he asked more brusquely than usual. “Don’t drip mud all over the carpet. Oh, what does it matter?” as Tallia stepped to one side.

  “I lost them,” she said, feeling like a schoolgirl caught out in some childish negligence. Berenet smirked.

  “What are you talking about?” Mendark asked, his brows knitting together. He was furiously angry about something.

  “The survivors of the Conclave. I got some of them out but I lost them in the alleys.”

  “They’ve been here for an hour!” said Mendark. “Some street brat brought seven of them to the gate, all looped together like a camel train.”

  “Lilis brought them?” Tallia was amazed. “How is Orstand?”

  “Not too good.” He waved a hand.

  Tallia saw the big woman sagging at a table on the other side of the room. “And Hennia the Zain?”

  Mendark lowered his voice. “I think her nerve has broken. We may have to replace her on the council, after this. What else have you to tell me?”

  “I had to leave the rest—I was lucky to get away myself. I lost Prathitt. He hit me and ran away in the dark.”

  “Not one of your greatest successes,” said Mendark sourly. “Thank heavens for Berenet. He has come back with vital intelligence about Yggur.” An aide tugged at his sleeve. “Just a minute!” he snapped.

  “I left Karan behind,” said Tallia. “The soldiers came before I could get her out…”

  Mendark swore. “A sensitive like her would have been useful.”

  Tallia took that as another criticism. Sensitives could be invaluable, to sense out danger and to advise what an enemy might do. Some could even relay messages by means of a mindtomind link. Karan had that rare talent. But they were a terror to control and often an emotional liability.

  “I suppose she’ll be dead in the morning,” Tallia said unhappily. Everything she’d done today had been a failure.

  “We might all be! Why did you send Thyllan back?”

  So that’s what the problem was! “How could I leave him behind? He’s on the Council.”

  “How could you miss the chance to rid me of my enemy?” Mendark raged. “No one could have blamed you. Now everyone knows he’s here and I don’t dare allow any harm to come to him.”

  “Do we obey the rule of law or not?”

  “In this case your judgment is faulty. Berenet would not have been so scrupulous.”

  “I’m sure of that!” she said acidly.

  “Aah! Get something to eat; I need you to look at the situation on the north side.” The aide attacked his sleeve again. Mendark turned away to the new problem.

  Tallia remained where she was. “I’d like to go back to the hall with a squad and get the rest of them.”

  “Impossible,” Mendark barked over his shoulder. “I need you here. Anyway, Yggur holds that part of the city now. Forget them!”

  Tallia knew that he was right, but it still hurt. She turned away, then swung back. “What happened to Lilis? I didn’t even pay her.”

  “The brat? The guards gave her a couple of grints before they chased her away. Now stop pestering me!”

  Again the smirk from her rival, Berenet. Tallia gritted her teeth and ignored him, though it took all her selfcontrol. She stopped by Orstand’s table for a moment to inquire about her health.

  “I don’t think I’ve felt worse in my entire life,” said Orstand, though she found time to ask about everyone by name, and was dismayed at Lilis’s shabby treatment.

  Snatching food and drink from a tray, Tallia hurried out to spend hours more reviewing the reports that streamed in, doing the rounds of the walls and relaying orders in the desperate defenses of the night.

  In the early morning of that bitterest of all days for Thurkad—the first time that an enemy had come within the gates in more than a thousand years—Tallia learned that Yggur’s First Army had been beaten back from the quarter where the Concla
ve had been held. Several small victories gave hope of larger ones to come, so instead of snatching a few hours’ sleep, she took a small detail down to the Great Hall to find Karan and the other wounded if she could, and bring them to safety.

  She picked her way through streets strewn with valuables discarded in flight and not yet taken by the looters—here a red cloth bundle, burst open to scatter silver cutlery in the gutter; there a carved wooden donkey with one ear broken off; a jacket embroidered with silk and garnets; a rolled tapestry that could have come from a bawdy house. Further on there were bodies and the marks of war—blood and broken weapons; men and beasts, women and even children dead of terrible wounds or sometimes no wound at all. And everywhere she saw the smoking shells of houses, once homes. Nearer to the Great Hall there were no signs of war; perhaps it had swept around that place.

  By the time she arrived it was late morning. Tallia regretted bitterly her failures of the night, Karan especially. It felt like a personal betrayal. As she approached the hall there was smoke and the smell of burning wood. Closer, the odor of burning flesh, too. Black smoke groped for the sky. Tallia ran up to the pyre.

  “Nothing else to do, lar,” said a tall, lean man with a little round pot of a belly that looked so incongruous it might have been pasted there. His gray hair was shaved to stubble. He wore the leather apron of a butcher and there was blood on the front of it. “If we leave them there’ll be plague.”

  There were a lot of bodies on the pile and as she stood there staring, two men came up, carrying another between them, and heaved the corpse up onto the fire as if they were loading sacks of coal onto a wagon. The flames were too hot for her to get close enough to recognize any of the faces, and she did not care to watch the burning or to smell the stench. She went into the hall. It had not yet been ransacked; indeed the chaos inside was as they had left it the previous night, save that the dead were gone, and the dying.