Quicksilver Zenith

by Stan Nicholls

  He stared at her for a second. ‘I see. You’ll talk it over with him soon, though?’

  ‘First thing.’

  There was a rap on the door.

  ‘Come!’ the paladin barked.

  Lahon Meakin entered. He gave his master a respectful nod, and looked askance at the meld. ‘Your briefing, sir. But if this isn’t a convenient time …’

  ‘Perfectly convenient. Kordenza was just leaving.’

  She got up. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it. There’s an escort waiting to see you out of the compound. Meakin, the door.’

  The aide opened it for her. She passed through without so much as acknowledging his existence.

  ‘Take a seat, Meakin.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ He chose the severest chair and produced his customary sheaf of notes.

  ‘Tomorrow is an auspicious day, Meakin. Remind me why.’

  ‘Well, sir, the ten for one law comes into force at midnight.’

  ‘About time, too. Ten prisoners executed every time a paladin’s killed will exercise the rabble’s minds very nicely. What else?’

  ‘On a personal note, sir, you’re due to have that binding removed.’

  ‘Yes, thank the gods. I’ll finally be mobile again. And able to kick some backsides in person. But it’s not entirely personal, Meakin. Whatever affects me has a bearing on the clans. We are indivisible, and don’t forget it.’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘And lastly?’

  ‘Lastly? Ah.’ He consulted his notes. ‘I don’t seem to have –’

  ‘No, you don’t. Because this has been kept on a strictly need-to-know basis. I’m telling you about it now, and I expect you to make all necessary arrangements despite the hour.’

  ‘Yes, sir. What will I be preparing for exactly, sir?’

  ‘I’ve decided to act on certain intelligence that’s come our way regarding dissident activity.’ He smiled a cat-that-got-the-cream smile. ‘We’re going to deal the Resistance a blow, Meakin. One they’ll not forget in a hurry.’

  12

  It was a perfect autumn day.

  A handful of downy white clouds graced a sky of matchless blue. The crystal-clear air was cold. Trees were gently shedding leaves of red and brown.

  The venue for the concert was the city’s main park, and a stage had been set up between two large statues of semi-mythical Gath Tampoorian heroes. One was equestrian. It depicted a champion with a lance, slaying a fearsome, many-tentacled beast. The other showed a warrior astride a heap of corpses, sword raised victoriously. Both were recently erected and made of bronze. Only bird droppings marred their sheen.

  In front of the stage, a sizeable area was roped off. There were no seats of any kind; the thousands gathered here were expected to make do with the grass and chill earth. Most took this in good part. They were a genial crowd, anxious to forget their daily struggles for a while. Few were overly boisterous, but there was a constant buzz of expectation.

  Hawkers of food and drink moved among them. Balladeers and jugglers performed, and street magicians conjured small glamoured entertainments. Uniformed law-keepers circulated too, while their confederates, less conspicuously dressed, listened for sedition. Overhead, spy glamours hovered.

  Things were more congenial for one segment of the audience who were housed behind barriers, in a covered stand. Although the concert was intended for the poor, many of Valdarr’s elite had turned out. High-ranking administrators, military chiefs, landowners, guildsmen, attaches and sorcerer fraternities sat in their finery alongside empire citizens: attended, feted and well protected from the common folk.

  A broad marquee stood at the rear of the stage. Inside, it was bustling. Musicians and set builders rubbed shoulders with sound wizards and members of the chorus. Of the latter, there were above a score, all youngsters dressed uniformly in white surplices.

  Kinsel Rukanis was at the centre of activity. Tanalvah, Lirrin and Teg clustered round him, the children excited and overawed.

  ‘All right, you two,’ Tanalvah told them, ‘it’s almost time for Kinsel to go on. Say goodbye for now.’ They scrambled to be lifted for hugs, and to deposit wet kisses. She indicated Kutch, standing to one side with Quinn Disgleirio. ‘Go to Kutch. I’ll be with you in a minute.’ They ran off to join the young apprentice. ‘And behave yourselves!’

  Tanalvah gave her full attention to her man. He wore a black stage suit, minus the jacket, and a white silk shirt with ruffled front. She smiled. ‘You look marvellous, Kinsel.’

  ‘Really?’ He started to fiddle with his cravat. ‘You don’t think that perhaps –’

  ‘No, you’re just right. Stop fussing. How are your nerves?’

  ‘Self-evidently not too good.’ He returned her smile at last.

  ‘Nothing new there, then. Still, you know what they say. If you didn’t have nerves –’

  ‘The performance wouldn’t be any good. I know. And I am anxious to give this particular audience a good show.’

  ‘You will. You always do.’

  ‘I’m not entirely happy with the glamoured amplification.’

  ‘Even your voice won’t carry to everyone in a crowd that size. See it as a necessary evil.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘I am. Don’t worry.’ She embraced him.

  A dresser appeared holding the singer’s velvet jacket, and prudently cleared his throat. Rukanis excused himself and stepped aside to try the coat on. Then he began to fret over it, helped by the dresser.

  ‘Tan?’

  She turned. Serrah was there. The clothes she had on were out of the ordinary for her: a dull reddish skirt, full-length, with a drab blouse and wrap, topped with a faded headscarf. No weapons were apparent, but Tanalvah didn’t doubt at least one was concealed.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Serrah asked.

  ‘Well, Kinsel’s nervous. Not that there’s anything unusual in that.’

  ‘There’s a hell of a crowd out there.’

  ‘Wonderful, isn’t it? Kin can’t quite believe it.’

  ‘What did he expect? Given his reputation and the fact that it’s free.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s ever quite come to terms with how popular he is. But then, his modesty’s one of his attractive features.’ She regarded Serrah. ‘It’s good of you to come.’

  ‘Everybody says he’s a great singer. I thought I’d find out for myself.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here, Serrah. But you won’t …’

  ‘What? Start a brawl?’

  ‘I didn’t mean –’

  ‘Yes you did.’ She flashed a smile. ‘And I don’t blame you. But I’m not out of control, you know. It’s just that sometimes I don’t quite see the … borders.’ She paused, then promised, ‘I won’t do anything to spoil the big day, Tan. I’m just another spectator.’

  ‘And dressed like one.’

  Serrah looked down at herself. ‘Just a concession to blending in.’

  ‘Well, you make a very fetching peasant.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She took in the scene. ‘Not long now.’

  ‘Yes. Do you know if Karr made it?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘That’s a pity.’

  ‘He says he’s too busy, as always. But it’s his health, I reckon. Not that he’d ever admit to it.’

  ‘You’ve only got to look at him to see he’s ill. Kin’s worried about him. We all are.’

  ‘He’s not the sort of man to slow down.’

  ‘Someone should tell him.’

  ‘You think nobody has?’ She eyed Tanalvah, and added, ‘Reeth didn’t come either.’

  Tanalvah’s features hardened, but she said nothing.

  ‘He thought his presence might attract the wrong kind of attention,’ Serrah went on.

  ‘Good. I’m glad he isn’t here.’

  ‘I thought you might say that.’

  ‘He’s a complication I can do without, Serrah.
Today of all days.’

  ‘You’re being a bit hard on him, aren’t you?’

  ‘He’s bad news. Trouble follows him like a shadow.’

  ‘You could say the same about me.’

  ‘You’re different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You’ve lost … somebody close.’

  ‘He’s lost everybody.’

  ‘And somewhere along the way he lost himself, Serrah. That’s the difference.’

  ‘You think I’m redeemable and he isn’t, is that it?’

  ‘I’m just saying it’s a relief not having him here.’

  ‘I would have thought you, of all people –’

  ‘Oh, don’t you start. That’s Kinsel’s line. Because I’m a Qalochian like Reeth, I’m supposed to understand why he’s so tormented. Well, I don’t. We share a bloodline, not a common history.’

  ‘Your people do.’

  ‘I never knew my people. Maybe that’s my loss. But seeing the way Reeth is, I doubt it.’

  ‘I can’t believe you mean that.’

  ‘My birthright’s brought me nothing except being spat at on the street. It’s meant I’ve been treated with contempt, reviled, abused, seen as less than human.’

  ‘And there’s no excuse for that. It’s unforgivable. But at least Reeth’s trying to do something to restore his dignity.’

  ‘Really? I thought he just wanted revenge.’

  ‘Hitting back at those who caused your people so much grief is how he keeps his self-respect. It’s only natural.’

  ‘It might be natural to you and him; you’re warriors. But that isn’t how I’ve lived my life, for all that I’m a Qalochian.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tan, but I think you’re being unfair to Reeth.’

  ‘I know you’re close to him, Serrah, but –’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s the way I’d put it.’

  ‘However you put it, be careful. I’ve no idea what your relationship is with him, but don’t get yourself hurt.’

  ‘Relationship?’ she came back stiffly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Perhaps you don’t. Sometimes others see what we’re doing better than we do ourselves.’

  ‘Just a minute. Are you suggesting –’

  ‘Serrah, I’m sorry. Kinsel’s about to go on, and the children need me. We’ll be watching from the wings. Where will you be?’

  ‘Around.’ She turned abruptly and strode off.

  ‘Serrah!’ Ignored, Tanalvah cursed softly and went back to Kinsel.

  Serrah marched past Kutch, Disgleirio and the children without a word.

  ‘You all right, Serrah?’ Disgleirio called out.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, cold as ice. ‘Perfectly.’

  Kutch and Quinn exchanged a look.

  The audience had begun to applaud and cheer the moment Kinsel walked on stage.

  He was in excellent voice, and every song drew a thunderous response. The crowd was enchanted, roused, transported by the music. His lays of chivalry stirred their blood, and the lyrical ballads brought them to sweet melancholy. He led them into shadow and back to the light, by way of wonderment. The purity of his singing inspired rapture and tears.

  His most appreciative audience was in the wings. Tanalvah, with Teg in her arms and Lirrin clutching her skirt, stood entranced. Every so often, Kinsel favoured them with surreptitious smiles and winks.

  He had scoured orphanages and foundling workhouses to choose each member of the chorus himself. His diligence, and days of rehearsal, had paid off. They shadowed him perfectly, snug as a silk glove on a rich woman’s hand. Swarms of glamoured sound boosters, made to look like birds or bloated, unseasonable wasps, drifted above the crowd relaying the music to every corner, as distinct as it was to those in the front row.

  At last Rukanis reached the climax of his repertoire with songs of great deeds. His voice soared as he intoned fables of gallantry and unrequited love. And the bronze statues on either side of the dais came to glamoured life.

  To the left, the conquering hero stretched as though from a long sleep. The enemies he had downed rose too, and battle recommenced. On the right, the warrior awoke, his horse rearing. The monster’s tentacles lashed and contorted and a thrust of the champion’s spear caused yellow ichor to spurt from the creature’s scaly flesh. It wasn’t to Kinsel’s taste, but it was a crowd-pleaser.

  As he drew to a close, a magically generated rainbow arched over the heads of the audience, its hues more vivid than Nature’s own. It looked solid, as though a multicoloured bridge had been thrown across the breadth of the park. As thousands craned to see, a network of jagged cracks appeared on the rainbow’s surface. Then it began to crumble. Red, blue and green chunks came away, breaking up into even smaller fragments as they fell. The people below cried out, and many covered their heads. But what showered down on them was an abundance of flowers. Beautiful, radiantly coloured blooms of every imaginable genus. Within seconds of falling they transmuted into a froth of minute golden stars and returned to nothingness. Only their exquisite perfume lingered.

  Kinsel brought his last song to a booming, triumphant finish. The crowd roared. They rained the stage with real flowers, singly and in bouquets and bunches. People chanted his name and let off dazzling red and white glamour flares. They whistled, clapped and released synthetic doves, shiny as platinum.

  Grinning, he took his bows and retreated.

  In the wings, Tanalvah and the children clustered round and hugged him.

  ‘You were wonderful,’ she said.

  ‘I was?’ He looked slightly bewildered, as though the possibility had never entered his head. ‘Truly?’

  ‘Yes. It was an amazing performance. A great performance.’ She showed good-natured annoyance. ‘Oh, Kinsel, sometimes I … If you don’t believe me, listen to them.’ The clamour from the audience still hadn’t died down. She smiled warmly. ‘Now get out there and bow some more.’

  He kissed her cheek and went back on.

  One person in the cheering crowd took no notice of his reappearance. Standing near the front, Serrah was watching two men as they elbowed towards the stage. They were dressed almost identically in blacks and greys, and they were armed with matching swords. But it wasn’t only that. It was something about their bearing and the way they moved. It was the set of their faces, and their darting, alert eyes. She had an instinct about them, and had learned to trust her instincts.

  The men reached the stage and made for a gap at its side that led to the tent at the rear. There were guards at the entrance, but after a few words they stood aside. The men went in.

  Serrah began pushing through the crowd to follow them.

  Backstage, things were even more chaotic than before the concert. Musicians, choristers and the rest had been joined by hangers-on, well-wishers and VTPs with their entourages.

  Kinsel loosened his collar and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead. Tanalvah had one eye on the children, whose excitement was beginning to shade into boredom.

  ‘You know,’ Kinsel ruminated, ‘I just might do this again.’

  ‘Good. I thought you’d enjoy it once it was over.’

  He laughed. ‘I think you’re getting to know me too well, my love.’

  An assistant approached. ‘Master Rukanis, sir? As you instructed, we’re letting through some of the people who want to meet you. Could you do it now?’

  ‘I’d love to. Want to come along, Tan?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll stay here with these two. They’re getting a little cranky.’ Teg and Lirrin turned butter-wouldn’t-melt, angelic faces up to her.

  Kinsel went off with the assistant. ‘It would have been nice to meet as many people as want to meet me,’ he lamented.

  ‘You’d be here for the rest of the week,’ the helper replied.

  ‘I know. But you’ve picked a representative group?’

  ‘As good a mix as we could find.’

  At the far end of the tent,
where there were two openings to the outside, a line of forty or fifty audience members was snaking in. They were as diverse as promised. Youths, elderly couples, middle-aged patrons of music, street beggars, parents with babes in arms. As soon as they saw Rukanis they started cheering.

  Guards kept them in check as he stepped forward, smiling, to shake hands and converse. Scraps of parchment and glamoured graph-sticks were thrust at him. He signed his name in silver, gold and crimson, and wrote inscriptions for the excited, chattering group. Adolescent girls giggled as he autographed the backs of their hands. People tugged at his sleeves. Babies were lifted to have their cheeks pecked.

  Two unsmiling men in dark clothing moved towards him through the crowd.

  Tanalvah no more than half watched this from her elevated position at the back of the stage. Her attention was on the children.

  ‘When are we going home?’ Lirrin yawned. Her heavy-eyed young brother, propped against her, was beyond even grumbling.

  ‘Not long,’ Tanalvah promised, ruffling the girl’s hair. ‘Just as soon as Kinsel gets back.’

  Serrah strode up to them.

  ‘Serrah! I’m so glad you came back. I wanted to say I’m sorry for –’

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’ She was scanning the lively scene inside the tent. ‘I think we might have a problem.’

  At the look on Serrah’s face Tanalvah instinctively drew the children to her. ‘What is it? Is it Kinsel? Has something happened?’

  ‘It’s just a hunch.’ She looked down and saw Kinsel signing autographs and talking with admirers. ‘Those two.’ She pointed. ‘The ones dressed alike.’

  ‘In the black and grey? What about them?’

  ‘It could be nothing.’

  ‘If Kinsel’s in danger, he needs me.’

  ‘No. Stay where you are.’ Serrah’s tone forbade argument.

  ‘Is something bad going to happen to Kinsel?’ Lirrin piped up, sensing the adults’ alarm.

  ‘No, darling,’ Tanalvah assured her, almost calmly, ‘it’s all right.’ To Serrah she mouthed, ‘Isn’t it?’

  Serrah didn’t answer.

  They watched.

  Kinsel finished signing his name for somebody and handed back the paper.