"Well, if you can perform some kind of escaping trick, let's see it." Harol's husky tone contrasted oddly with the lightness she tried to put into her words. "I mean we'd all be grateful for a change of accommodation, quite apart from all our friends out there who're going to walk right into a trap. So if you reckon we’ve got a chance of getting out of here without the priest's help, why don't you show us now?"
"It's not easy to explain, Harol."
"Well, go on then, have a try. There's nothing much else on offer, is there? Even if it's only make-believe, listening to you beats the hell out of counting the drips that are landing on me."
"What it comes down to is that we have to stay here, even if the gates were wide open. To escape now would mean certain failure."
"You mean even if you really could get your friends out of here, you wouldn't?" Harol asked incredulously. "You'd let them get slaughtered for some fancy theory? You're for the chop tomorrow morning. How much more of a failure can you be than that?"
Idressin smiled at the fierce little face, half seen in the lamplight. "I'm sorry, Harol. This isn’t about the rebellion or about you or me. The world has waited a thousand years for this event and it will make little difference whether we live or die tomorrow. It's taken centuries of effort to bring the right people to the right moment in time. Maybe we're already too late; but while there's still a chance, we need to be in this place. That's the only thing that matters."
Harol looked at him sadly. "You're talking about finding this Talisman, aren't you? This 'only thing that matters' routine, you're just as crazy as that weird priest. Hell, if I had the chance to get me and Sammar out of here, I'd go and I'd take you along with us or any other poor bastard who was in the cells.”
"And if your escaping meant condemning millions of people all over the world to an endless future of oppression and slavery, the very things you're rebelling against, would you go?"
The girl hesitated. "I don't know. It's a stupid question anyway; I'm not carrying that kind of responsibility."
"But I am," the tutor stated quietly.
Harol's face closed in sullen disagreement.
"Maybe things are not as bad as they look, Harol." Caldar tried to impart a confidence he didn't feel. "We've a very resourceful friend - you remember we told you about the Tinker - he knows all about our mission and he's out there somewhere trying to help us. If anyone in the world could get us out of this, it's Idressin here and the Tinker. Believe me, I don't like it here any more than you do: as soon as we get the chance, I'll be only too happy to make a run for it."
"But you're not going to make a run for it. Your leader wishes to die here." The deep gravelly voice belonged to Sammar, who delivered the words with a stony face.
"I'll argue that out with you some other time," Idressin said mildly.
"No, now." The challenge was harsh.
"Seeing that I'm the person you hope might get you out, you're not in a strong position to insist." The tutor's tone remained light.
"It's my four hundred men who are going to be trapped and butchered."
"Ah, such shame for a successful commander. To be so completely outwitted."
Sammar came right up to the bars, his face red and his fists balled as he shouted, "Listen, you sneering bastard. I know every one of those men, they're friends, and I know their families. How could I ever look their mothers, their wives or children in the eye again, if I could warn them and don't?"
"But you're not going to have to look them in the eye, are you?" the tutor said quietly. "You'll be dead." The ensuing silence crackled with tension as the rebel leader glared across at the tutor. "Stop posturing, Sammar. We all share the same situation here…."
"This is ridiculous." The rebel's deep voice cut off Idressin's words. "You people don't have any contact with the real world, you're playing some kind of game. Go ahead, find your Talisman, if you can, though from what I heard you say, you've little chance. And if you do find it, maybe half the religious fanatics in the Empire will bow down to you; the other half will violently oppose you, while for most ordinary folk it'll be a complete irrelevance. Your Talisman, Ajeddak Stone, what difference does it make? They'll still be dispossessed, imprisoned, raped, killed. It's the government we have to overthrow, all of it, the Emperor, the Council, the titled aristocracy, the heads of the army and police, everything that makes this pernicious system work."
Harol's eyes glowed with pride and adoration as her hero thundered on. "Now you people must have some kind of powers or you wouldn't have survived the Stone, and you've got your own quarrel with the Emperor. Why not help us now and join our cause? I'll say it plain, having the Count of Attegor on our side would suddenly make a lot of people in Karkor and the other northern cities take us more seriously."
"The Count of Attegor would have been pleased to help you in your epic struggle," Idressin announced solemnly, "but he's just abdicated."
"What d'you mean? When?" Sammar asked in confusion.
"Just now. He was so carried away by your speech about getting rid of the titled aristocracy that he abdicated. That's what you want, isn't it? Or is it really that you don't mind the aristocracy, the army, the police, and so on, as long as it's in your control?"
"That's not fair," Harol broke in hotly. "Sammar's never wanted anything for himself. While you lot have been swanning around amusing yourselves, he's been fighting, prepared to die for his countrymen."
"Looks like his preparation won't be wasted then," Berin murmured.
The rebel ignored them both and kept his gaze on Idressin. "I'm serious. Why don't you join us? If your Talisman turns up, you could put it to a really worthwhile use. What could be more valuable than giving hope to the oppressed?"
"You and I are both attempting to give hope to the oppressed, Sammar, but in quite different ways, which don't mix." The tutor held up his hand to cut off the other's objections "You're dominated and persecuted by a violent government that benefits one group of people more than the rest. Alright, how about you? You already say that violence is justified to overthrow your oppressors. If you win, how long d'you think it will be before your new government will enforce laws which benefit 'good' people, in other words everyone who supports and agrees with it? And how will you deal with minorities that oppose you? People who used to govern and have exchanged roles with you? Ambitious new groups who want to grab the power you'll just have won?
Do you know, my earnest friend, how many revolutions there have been in the last thousand years of the Empire's history? Thirty three. And not one of them succeeded in establishing the stable benevolent fair government they all claimed as their aim and which they waded through blood to champion. The hope which you offer people in all sincerity is an illusion."
"Are you saying that we should accept oppression?" Sammar's voice rose with each phrase. "That I should stand aside in silence when my neighbour's house is burnt and pillaged? That I should not lift a hand when his children are carried off into slavery? That I...."
"You southerners certainly have a fine turn of phrase. You'll make a good politician, Sammar, if you get the chance. No, I'm not suggesting you should turn aside from what you see as right. I'm just explaining that for you it may prove disappointing in the end and that for us it doesn't carry the same importance."
"Then what is of such world-shaking importance to you that it allows you to ignore the suffering of those around you?"
"The coming of the Talisman. You said we had no contact with the real world. We do. There's a struggle taking place at this moment which transcends governments and rebellions and which makes prison or even execution unimportant. That's why we're here, to play a part in restoring this Talisman to the world of men.”
"Good luck to you then. But what use is it to the rest of us?"
"The Talisman will bring with it true hope for everyone, not just for us, worth more than a thousand revolutions. Just the possibility that we can aid its return is worth the risk of dying." The tutor gave Sam
mar a grim smile. "Yes, there are others as dedicated as you are yourself. Each of my young companions has already come close to death, while we were 'swanning about amusing ourselves'. And unlike you, we don't have the comfort of knowing that what we do is always right."
There was a gleam of respect in Sammar's eyes, as he replied, "Your words ring true, my friend. I still can't understand you, but I accept your sincerity and I wish you luck. For myself I'll keep my scepticism of such intangible things and stick to what I know. I like my aims simple - the destruction of the Emperor and all his brood. And if my execution will stiffen my people's resolve and bring his downfall one moment nearer, then I'll die content."
Idressin shook his head, as if in disappointment, and sighed. "You make a fine speech, Sammar, but I had expected more of you. Persa told me you were cool and level-headed. Prison must have addled your brains."
Watching the scene, Berin expected another outburst. Instead Sammar's belligerent expression was replaced by astonishment and doubt. "You have met Persa? You have been to Ropomo?"
"I haven't seen the vineyards of Ropomo for a very long time," the tutor replied in a wistful tone. "Persa, on the other hand, I met two days ago, in Karkor."
Sammar's eyes widened and then squeezed shut as though he had been struck by sudden pain. "No, no. She agreed to stay at home." His voice was a whisper. Then his eyes opened and fastened pleadingly on Idressin. "She's with the others, isn't she? I must warn her. This is worth more to me than my life." The tutor said nothing "Worth more than my pride. I don't care what my people believe of me. I beg you, if it is possible, let someone warn her, warn them."
Idressin inclined his head, as if in acknowledgement. "Of course we'll help you if we can."
The rebel's relief was obvious, but he was puzzled too. "I thought you said our troubles had no importance for you."
"Ah, that was the troubles of Sammar, the famous revolutionary leader. The troubles of Sammar, the man, are as important to me as my own."
"I'm completely lost." The southerner looked it too. "But I heard the offer, didn't I? I'll hold you to that. However slim the chance, just get a warning out; I don't care what happens to me, just save my people and I'll be in your debt all my life." Sammar laughed harshly. "Short-term debt."
He sank slowly to sit on the floor. When he spoke again his tone was already dispirited, as if the hopes of a moment before were evaporating already. "And now we have to sit and wait for this Talisman to appear like a stroke of luck. I've always believed people should make their own luck. Try single-mindedly enough for something and you'll achieve it, that's been my experience."
"You mean you actually intended to be in prison here, Sammar?" Berin asked with wide-eyed innocence. He received a smouldering look from the rebel, reminding him that this man took his cause and himself seriously and was not lightly to be mocked. Then Sammar smiled grimly.
"No, my young friend, you’re right, that wasn’t part of my plans. I would accept help from luck or any other quarter at the moment, I admit it freely."
After that a dull silence seemed to settle over the party, as they sat half-dozing around the tiny light. They were so far underground that it grew no colder as the daylight far above waned, but an unnatural chill from the streaming walls and the large echoing space around them settled into their bones and made sleep impossible.
The tension of waiting told on the young group. Apart from not knowing which of them was to be the Guardian and what might be expected of them at any moment, they were tantalised by the constant thought that the Talisman for which they had risked so much might be within a few yards of them.
Finally Caldar and Berin could stand it no longer, and despite the tutor's guarantee that they would find nothing, they began to search the back of the cell. They were joined after a few minutes by Tariska and an unusually quiet Harol.
Water and wet stone gleamed in the lantern light, little sparks of hope which led them from pool to pool in the recesses of the dungeon, until it seemed they had examined every square inch of the floor three times over. At the back where the dripping roof closed down, there were some small holes, but their dark mouths exuded such a palpable aura of menace that none of the searchers could find the courage to crawl in. After a couple of hours the hopelessness of the task caught up with them and without a word being said they gave up.
They rejoined the others to find them talking about the rebels’ doomed attack. Idressin had spoken to some of them just two days ago and it seemed the basic plan had not changed. One assault from the city side to draw the attention of the Enclave guards, followed immediately by two separate incursions from the east and south, difficult approaches which appeared to be lightly defended. Or so they would have been. Against a prepared enemy both lines of attack would be suicidal and the lines of retreat easily cut.
"What's the point of talking about it? We're all done for, aren't we?" Harol's resolute spirit was being stifled by the blanketing power of the Stone, and little trace of her gaiety remained. "Us here, the rebels in Karkor, all our kinfolk in the south, all finished." Her voice betrayed how near she was to tears. "Caldy keeps telling me to trust you, and we've all landed in this hell-hole 'cos someone thinks you're after the throne, while all you want's a bloody trinket which no one else cares about and you can't find. Not much uuuu…" Her words trailed away as the thin shoulders hunched and shook with silent sobbing.
Without a word Tariska went and sat beside her, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders. Comforted by the contact, the girl cried bitterly for a couple of minutes, then raised her head from Tariska's shoulder and sniffed loudly as she began to wipe away her tears.
"Ta," she said in a shaky voice. Then with an attempt at a smile, "You Caldy's girl?"
"No," Tariska replied, taken off guard. "I…we…sort of.."
"S'alright. Don't make a meal of it. I'm only asking to pass the time. What d'you think's going…"
Harol gave a little shriek and started back in shock. Without any warning there was the priest, standing an arm's-length away just outside the bars. And he had grown. More than life-size, his massive presence seemed to fill the tunnel and block all chance of escape. The others fell silent also, waiting for the figure to speak.
Chachi let it draw out for a while, appraising the prisoners, noting Harol's tear-stained face. The young ones were showing unexpected resistance considering the growing force being channelled through the Stone. Fordosk appeared untouched: well, perhaps that would not matter soon.
"It's time. Will the Guardian step forward and we can begin."
Chachi put real command into his voice and he was watching for the least flicker of response; but no one stirred until Fordosk walked forward.
"We're not ready yet to give you an answer."
"No, no more delay or the Talisman will not be found. This is our last chance."
"Your last chance," the tutor corrected firmly.
The air around the priest seemed to thicken like smoke, then flow out in ripples of darkness. The growl which followed came from no human throat. They all stepped back and left Idressin confronting his towering adversary alone.
"You still think you will survive without my help?" The words were harsh with contempt.. "And what of the rest of you? You have been caught innocently in a web spun for Fordosk and the spider is approaching: you can still break free if you work with me now."
No one moved. None of them dared to be singled out for the attention of this monster.
"Then let me show you what awaits you. I have brought down another of Fordosk's former associates."
He went swiftly back up the tunnel with his lantern to return a minute later with a smaller hooded figure whose stumbling steps he was guiding, none too gently, along the passage. Rasscu stiffened; his stony face was expressionless, but the coldness in his eyes betrayed him. He knew who this was and if he felt anything it was satisfaction. When the newcomer staggered and fell, twitching and whimpering, twenty paces from the grille, the pri
est shrugged his shoulders and strode on alone.
"Take good note, the reward for service to the Empire. It was thanks to this woman that we got you all behind bars. Instead of paying her in gold, they did something very nasty to her in the torture cells, then gave her Rennem." Sammar's sharp intake of breath warned the young prisoners of something fearful. Something worse than torture? Idressin stood like a rock. " Then they asked her a few questions and threw her in a refuse pit to die. I found her there a short while ago and I thought you should see how they treat their friends. Be assured they will find something even worse for you."
In the ensuing silence Chachi was careful not to let his surprise show. The Stone's power was now reverberating right through the foundations of the Temple; so strong was it down here that the guards had refused to accompany him. The prisoners were feeling the pressure of it, he could tell; but not enough. None of them had betrayed the slightest reaction when he had called for the Guardian to step forward, and the spectacle of a painful death which was being acted out right in front of their eyes was not moving them either. Fordosk's control over them must be strong indeed.
There was nothing else for it. He would have to use the full power of the Stone to discover which of the younger prisoners was the Guardian: one by one alone in the chamber they would be utterly unable to resist. In fact he would have to take care that the Guardian himself was not reduced to a useless husk. Which first? The one who had reputedly used sorcery at the city gates, he was as likely as any.
The priest lifted a black-gloved hand and beckoned. The compulsion was irresistible; Caldar went forward, trying hard to still the trembling of his knees. Tariska took half a step as if to help and stopped as a powerful force clamped her in place. An instant later Chachi had unlocked the door, pulled the youth through, and turned the key on the others, noting with satisfaction the distress on the young faces inside the cell. Good. Something he could use later, if he got the time. Shkosta would know about his capture of the whole party by now, assuming they had made sense out of the babblings of that wretched woman. He had no fears for himself, he knew how to avert the princess' wrath; but it would have cut severely the time he had left to identify the Guardian.
The Tears of Sisme Page 70
