It was dark inside, and apparently unoccupied. They weaved through stacks of crates tall as a house, looking for windows. There were none. They found a staircase. Two flights took them to the top floor, where there was a window, but it was shuttered. Serrah’s knife proved useful again, and she flung the shutters wide. Beyond the barred window was a clear view of the ocean.
‘Thought so. This warehouse backs onto the water’s edge.’
‘Now what?’
‘We can’t get through these.’ She tested a bar. ‘We’ll have to try the roof after all.’
‘Roof?’
‘But how?’ Serrah mused, scanning the place. ‘There!’
A trapdoor was set in the ceiling.
‘Help me move some of those boxes,’ she said.
They hurriedly made a small step pyramid. The trap had only a simple bolt. Palms to the wood, they heaved it free, revealing a square of blue-grey sky. There was no problem scrambling through and onto the flat roof.
The salt air was windy but the view was impressive. In front of them, a vista of rippling ocean. To their right the harbour complex and the mass of people milling about it. Further on, a long jetty stretched from the shore, with two ships tied up at its end. The jetty thronged with even more people looking like worker ants from this distance, besieging the ships. Plenty of other vessels were moored all along the harbour wall. They were being stormed, too.
‘That should be the Stag.’ Serrah pointed to a three-master at anchor in the middle of the bay.
She took Kutch to the edge of the building. When they looked down he grabbed her hand, palm sweaty. She squeezed it.
Two floors below, the top of the harbour wall abutted the warehouse, forming a wide stone ledge. Then there was a respectable drop to the water. The building had basic ornamentation on its facade, consisting of tiers of bricks projecting edgeways.
‘We can use those to climb down,’ Serrah decided. ‘Kutch?’
His attention was on the sky. She followed his gaze.
Four or five black somethings were flying in a line towards the harbour. The distance was too great to make out what they were, but they certainly weren’t birds. They were far too big.
Serrah went over to the other side of the roof, Kutch in tow. Convoys of wagons clogged the streets leading to the harbour entrance. Many were uncovered, and they saw distinctive red uniforms.
‘It’s starting, isn’t it?’ Kutch said.
She nodded. ‘And the gods know how that crowd’s going to react to the arrival of a small army. They’re only one notch down from full-blown panic as it is.’
They could clearly make out five objects in the sky now, and there were more further back.
‘Glamour squadron,’ Kutch confirmed, suppressing a shudder.
Their various distinctive shapes identified them as fire-spitters, manslayers, berserker-drones, fangdivers, trackers and gargoyles.
‘They’re not stinting on the firepower,’ Serrah remarked.
Suddenly, the racket the crowd was making took on a different quality. A spreading roar washed over it. Down below, troops spilled from the wagons. On the edges of the crowd, fighting had already begun.
Then a louder noise caught their attention. A flying glamour that looked like a cross between a serpent and a spider was dive-bombing the jetty. It belched fireballs that exploded on impact. People were ablaze and leaping into the dock and the rigging on one of the ships was burning.
Another creature, blimpish and prickly, struck nearer home. Its fire came down on the heads beneath in glutinous sheets.
As with any crowd, many in it were armed. Some had conventional weapons like bows. Others carried glamour munitions. Arrows flew and the flash of magical discharges began. But those wanting to fight were hampered by the crush of humanity. People were jumping or falling from the harbour wall. Swimmers could be seen, and several overloaded rowboats had been launched. A further ship, much closer than the jetty, had burst into flames. They saw crew running about its decks.
‘Standing on a roof might not be the brightest idea,’ Serrah figured. ‘We should –’
An airborne glamour swooped low overhead, confirming her fear. They dropped flat. The soaring glamour, pyramid-shaped, striped like a tiger and with huge eyes on stalks, flew over the trapped crowd. It showered them with razor-sharp ice crystals.
‘The Stag isn’t going to wait much longer,’ Serrah said.
They crawled back to the harbour-side edge of the wall. Several ships were approaching from the open sea, flying Bhealfan and Gath Tampoorian military ensigns.
‘As I feared. They’re going to block the harbour mouth. We’ve got to get out to the ship, fast.’
Then they spied a galley rounding the spit, oars churning the water to white foam.
‘You don’t think …?’
‘No, Kutch. Kinsel’s a long way from here.’ Serrah looked down the wall. ‘It’s not too great a height. Take it easy, use those jutting bricks for foot and handholds. You’ll be fine.’ She clocked his expression. ‘Don’t think. Just do it.’
They eased themselves over the edge and began their descent. Taking it steady, gingerly putting a little pressure on each brick before trusting it with their weight, progress was slow.
Something went past them at speed, wriggling through the air, giving off a deafening wail. Kutch started. The brick he’d just laid his foot on dislodged and plummeted, shattering below.
Serrah, alongside him, grasped his wrist. ‘Easy, easy. You all right?’
He nodded, panting.
They started moving again, even more slowly. With their faces to the wall they could hear the turmoil but not see anything, which made it seem all the worse. Both of them half expected one of the flying glamours to swoop in and crisp them.
Finally they reached the top of the harbour wall. Incongruously, with the sounds of pitched battles and death all around, seagulls were bobbing serenely on the waves.
‘The Stag’s not that far out, fortunately,’ Serrah judged.
‘How do we get to it?’
‘What did you expect, a waiting boat to ferry us across?’
‘Well, yes; I was kind of hoping there would be.’
‘Competition’s a bit too stiff for that. We’re going to have to swim. Damn, I forgot to ask: you can swim?’
‘Well, yes. Only not that well. I’m not particularly fond of water.’
‘You’re about to make friends with it. Get your boots off.’ She did the same. Very reluctantly, she ditched her sword, too.
They stood with their toes curling over the lip of the wall.
‘There’s no other way but jumping,’ Serrah told him. ‘We’ll go in feet first. Then use nice, easy strokes to get to the ship. We’re not in a race. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you. Ready? On three. One … two … th –’
The cold water all but knocked the wind out of them. There was a second’s confusion as they resurfaced and got their bearings. Then, side by side, they started to swim.
Only once did they have to alter course, when a patch of burning oil drifted into their path. And they saw several floating corpses, terribly burnt or mutilated. Serrah had just started to worry what effect the cold might have on them when she stretched her hand and touched the slimy hull.
There was a tense moment when it looked like the crew weren’t going to allow them aboard. But when Serrah called out her name, and it was recognised, they let them climb the netting that draped the ship’s side.
Once they’d struggled over the rail, the skipper said, ‘Five more minutes and we wouldn’t have been here. As it is we’re going to have to outrun the blockade they’re bringing in.’
‘Think we’ll do it?’ she asked, scraping strands of wet hair from her face.
‘I reckon.’ He turned away to bark orders.
A crewman cloaked them with blankets. Serrah and Kutch leaned on the rail, getting their breath back and dripping.
‘You did well, Kutch,’ she said. �
�I’m proud of you.’
He gave a weak smile. ‘We were luckier than those still on shore.’
The port area was all chaos and fiery confusion.
As the ship lifted anchor and the crew prepared to sail, Serrah noticed that they weren’t the only people to have been picked up. Further along the deck a bedraggled, pasty-faced group of ten or twelve people were huddled together.
Heaven help us, she thought, if this is all that’s left of the Resistance.
30
The air stank of charred flesh.
Dulian Karr pressed a cloth to his lower face as he picked through the wreckage. Disgleirio, rummaging at the opposite end of the cellar, hadn’t bothered.
There were four corpses scattered across the flagstone floor, all horribly burnt, their blue Covenant robes little more than brittle ash. One had been a woman, but they couldn’t tell which.
In the corner, the fenced-off pit gently bubbled, like a cooking pot. Its sides were caked in a gritty, sooty substance, and at its bottom the flow of quicksilver was down to a sluggish trickle. The whole cellar – floor, walls and ceiling – looked as though it had been subjected to intense heat. But no other part of the house had been affected.
‘We’re not going to get anything from this,’ Disgleirio decided. ‘Everything’s been incinerated.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right, Quinn,’ Karr agreed. He looked even paler than usual, and there was a faint bluish tint to his lips. His breathing was laboured even when he wasn’t exerting himself. The events of the last few hours had done nothing to improve his vitality.
‘I don’t know what you hoped to find out anyway,’ the Righteous Blade man added.
A clue as to what might have happened here. Perhaps a hint that these poor devils had been able to pluck some kind of message from the matrix.’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Whatever it was they were doing here went badly wrong. They weren’t up to meddling with Founder magic, whatever they thought.’
The patrician sighed. ‘That might be, I suppose. Though I wish we could have Phoenix’s opinion.’
‘If we knew where he was. Let’s leave this. There’s no purpose served wasting our time on something we don’t even understand. There are much more pressing matters to deal with.’
‘Very well.’
‘I think we should –’
‘Ssshh. What was that?’
‘What?’
There was a tiny sound. Disgleirio heard it this time. It was unmistakably a groan. They realised that it came from the man lying farthest from the pit, and hurried to him.
‘My gods,’ Disgleirio muttered, ‘he’s alive.’
The man was terribly burnt. What remained of his flesh was almost black. But his seared lips were trembling.
‘I think he’s trying to say something.’ Karr wanted to touch the man, to comfort him, but knew any contact would only add to his agony. Instead he lowered his head close to the sorcerer’s quivering mouth. There was another attempt to speak.
‘What’s he saying?’ Disgleirio whispered.
‘I can’t tell. Wait.’ There was a throaty rasp. Then the death rattle sounded. ‘He’s gone. I don’t know how he managed to last this long.’
‘To pass on a message, perhaps? Did you catch what he said?’
‘Yes. It was just one word. Surge.’
‘Surge? Was that all?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what it means?’
‘I’m afraid not. Again, we’d need Phoenix or someone with similar knowledge to help with it.’
‘There’s nothing more we can do here, Karr. We should be turning our efforts to what’s more important.’
‘You’re right.’
They closed the scorched door behind them and tramped up the stairs. Karr took each step like a much older man.
When they reached the ground floor they went into its biggest room. There were several edgy Resistance fighters there, along with Goyter, Karr’s aide. Karr shook his head in response to her unspoken question. Then he walked slowly to a chair and sank into it with a sigh.
‘Are we sure this place is safe?’ Disgleirio said.
‘You keep asking that, Quinn,’ Karr replied wearily, ‘and I can only give you the same answer. I don’t know. It’s one of the most secret hideaways we have. In theory it should be secure. But with what’s happening now, who can say?’
‘It turns on whether the one who betrayed us knows about it, doesn’t it?’
‘We are positive it was treachery?’ Goyter wondered.
‘It had to be,’ Karr confirmed. ‘And by somebody who knows an awful lot about us.’
‘All the more reason to make finding new safe houses a priority,’ Disgleirio suggested.
‘Goyter, has there been any word on Tanalvah?’ Karr wanted to know.
She looked grieved. ‘None. Her or the children. I pray they’re all right.’
‘Or Serrah and Kutch?’
‘Nothing.’
‘So many have gone missing. They couldn’t all have been caught in the harbour massacre, could they?’
‘Nowhere near,’ Disgleirio reckoned. ‘But naturally everyone’s gone to ground.’
‘I wonder how many got away?’ Goyter said. ‘From the harbour, I mean.’
‘Impossible to say,’ Karr answered. ‘But not a large number, I fear.’
A thought occurred to Disgleirio. ‘Do you think Gath Tampoor and Rintarah are experiencing anything like this? Or any of their other colonies?’
‘We know they’ve had equally tough crackdowns recently. But if you mean are they having a day like this, that would assume an informant who knew the workings of the Resistance not only here but everywhere. There are very, very few people in that position. And I’d personally vouch for all of them.’ He gave a little intake of breath, and his hand went to his forehead.
‘Are you all right?’ Goyter said, looking concerned.
‘Hm? Yes. I’m fine.’
‘You were overdoing it even before all this happened,’ she commented sternly. ‘I dread to think of the effect it’s having on you.’
He flashed her a feeble smile. ‘You worry too much, Goyter.’
Disgleirio picked up his thread. ‘I mentioned the empires because I was wondering if Resistance people from elsewhere might have got to the island.’
‘That’s a two-edged sword, isn’t it? If they did, it means the movement’s suffered treachery on a universal scale. If they didn’t, the Diamond Isle’s going to be poorly populated from our point of view. Neither prospect appeals.’
‘It’s going to be a hell of a job picking up the pieces after this.’
‘There may not be any pieces left.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Think on it. This break in Resistance discipline we’ve witnessed has exposed the whole plan, hasn’t it? The empires would have to be very dim indeed not to realise what we intended. Now there has to be a temptation on the part of both Rintarah and Gath Tampoor to seize the Diamond Isle, in order to put a stop to any idea of a dissident state. I’d put money on the possibility of an invasion by one or the other of them.’
‘With hardly any of our people out there to fend it off.’
‘Exactly. You know, I intended showing you all something today. It’s quite ironic, really.’
‘What is?’
‘Will you pass it over, please, Goyter?’
‘Are you sure there’s any point? In view of what you’ve just said?’
‘Yes. It was intended to be an inspiration. Now it could well serve as a small memorial to a shattered dream.’
‘If you insist.’ Goyter leaned over and lifted something that had been lying on the floor beside her chair. It proved to be a square of folded green cloth. She got up and took it to him. He stood, then opened it out for them to see. It was a flag. The motif was a scorpion, its curled stinger raised, ready to strike.
‘It was approved by the Council just last week
,’ Karr explained, ‘as the new state’s emblem. I don’t think the imagery will be lost on you.’
‘Small but deadly, eh?’ Disgleirio commented approvingly.
‘Yes. It says we may be tiny but we … we … pack a … sting.’ He swayed, eyes rolling, jaw agape, and fell. The flag covered his chest like a shroud.
‘Gods!’ Goyter exclaimed. ‘Dulian! Dulian! Do something, Quinn!’ she demanded.
Disgleirio and the fighters rushed to him. They loosened his collar. Disgleirio felt for a pulse. ‘Get him a healer,’ he pronounced. ‘Quickly!’
Autumn was shading into winter.
In the chill of a breaking dawn, four people stood on the crest of a hill, looking out to sea. To be exact, three stood and one sat on a curved hovering dish, suspended by magical energy.
A ship was nosing its way into the little harbour down below.
‘I wonder how many more this will bring?’ Serrah wondered.
‘That reminds me,’ Zahgadiah Darrok said. ‘I’ve had some figures compiled.’ He reached into a pouch, extracted a sheet of paper and unfolded it. ‘Taking into account the pathfinders who were already here, plus your band, Reeth, and all those who’ve made their way over since the troubles, we come to a total of two thousand, four hundred and sixty seven. That doesn’t count any of my people, of course.’
‘It’s not a lot compared to how many were supposed to get here, is it?’ Kutch said.
‘No,’ Caldason agreed. ‘But a small number can make a big difference, if they’re properly motivated. A lot of those who braved the journey have shown they are.’
‘I can’t help thinking about the others,’ Serrah admitted. ‘Tanalvah, Karr, Phoenix. Kinsel, of course. Even Quinn. How must they be faring, do you think?’
‘Hopefully they’ll get through. They’re all survivors in their way.’
‘Like us,’ Kutch piped up.
Caldason smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘My mind’s just as often on whoever betrayed the cause,’ Serrah added, her face darkening. ‘If I ever … when I find out who it was, I’m going to take a great deal of pleasure paying them back.’
‘That may never happen,’ Darrok told her. ‘My experience of life has been that sometimes it’s better to let the past go. Concentrate on the future. Try to make your dreams come true.’
Quicksilver Zenith Page 28
