The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  **

  The guard screamed again as they cut off the rest of his right ear.

  "Can you still hear me?" Theyn did not even bother to raise his voice.

  The corporal was on his knees, held fast, blood welling unchecked down his neck. His screams came in short bursts as he panted wildly. At a nod from Theyn the needle point of the dagger was laid against the man's throat.

  "Yes yes yes….I can hear you…. I can hear you, general…..I can"

  "Good. Then I'll ask you again. Where are they?"

  "I don't know.....I swear….I swear by the Stone…"

  "Come. I know where they've gone," Chachi interrupted suddenly. The priest had been in a strange mood from the start, agitated and detached by turns, altogether unlike his usual smooth composure. Then when they had found the cells empty, his shock had been genuine, the colonel was sure: as genuine as his evident relief now.

  "We have them. Somehow they've reached the chamber of the Stone and no one could escape that chamber tonight. Follow me quickly."

  Theyn paused only to order all the guards secured in their own cells, then hurried after the priest, his mind racing. With their own operations for the night coming inexorably to a crescendo he was running very short of time; there would already be a dozen urgent messages waiting for him in his own headquarters next to the palace. Now this. Shkosta's anger would be savage if Fordosk escaped. And Chachi: it was more obvious than ever that he had his own secret plans and concerns. What and why?

  The Under-Temple

  With a shrinking heart Berin could feel the menace which surrounded them on all sides grow closer and stronger, until he began to realise with an almost shameful relief that it was not aimed primarily at him. Rasscu was just to his left and darkness was gathering and clotting about him, until he could barely be seen.

  Then bewilderingly Caldar was there, standing in front of Berin and Rasscu, and saying in a clear voice, "No, these are my friends." Another wave of indescribable rage surged over them, thick and corrosive as hot acid, beating them to their knees. But they could move again and by the fitful light of Idressin’s lantern they could see. The tutor had somehow fought his way to the wall and found the door. Staggering, crawling, helping each other when they could, they followed. By the time they reached the doorway the tutor held open, they were panting wildly, lungs on fire as they pushed through the searing dark.

  It was better with the door shut behind them; all of them were able to stand and move up the rising passages unaided. Yet even when Idressin called a halt on a wide landing some minutes later, the floor still trembled with the Stone's anger.

  "This is far enough," the tutor began, leaning wearily against the wall. "We're somewhere under the Temple. We'll start running into priests if we go any higher. Have a rest while you can." Then directly to Sammar, "You still agree to the plan we made?" A quick nod from the rebel. Idressin turned at once to the others. "You may have heard some of it already, but I'll say it again. There are three Mederro groups we have to head off. Sammar will take the south. Harol, you go straight down the front approach with Rasscu: the attackers are going to use the ornamental gardens as cover, so you should find them easily enough. Sammar will give you some names as passwords: some of them may know you're Sammar's cousin, but you've got to turn round a hundred and fifty men who're all keyed up for a fight. The rest of you come with me and we'll warn off the group coming down the mountain spur above the Enclave."

  "Rasscu has the Talisman?" Harol queried. At Idressin's nod, she went on, "And after all the fuss you're prepared to risk it in this madcap rescue? One of us has a hole in the brain, you people make no sense to me. Why don’t you just go to ground in Karkor, leave me and Sammar to sort out our own mess?”

  “We can’t hide. The Stone will know where Caldar is, maybe more of us, and I can’t shield us much longer.” He cut off her next question. “There’s no time for this, Harol.”

  “I was going to ask, what about the Imperial Guard?” came the tart rejoinder.

  "The ones outside the Enclave won't have taken up close positions yet." It was Sammar who answered crisply: the rebel general at work again. "They'll have mobilised, and half of them will be right here inside the Enclave waiting for the attack. But the detachments outside will have to stand off to let our assault get into position. Then they'll come in behind before dawn and seal off the escape."

  "So how do we escape?" Berin asked.

  "We find our attack groups quickly and get out while the jaws of the trap are still open."

  "And then? They'll be right behind us." This was Harol again.

  "We were going to head south, but they'll know that now. The only alternative is to take one of the routes into the Pattaka mountains, so Idressin and I agreed to meet up outside the city walls at the old Victory Column about a mile outside the BalaBen Gate. You know where it is, don't you, Harol? Your group and mine are going to have to break out of the city. If you can't get over the walls before the general alarm's raised, come to the cattle market in the east quarter. You know it? Good. Wait for us at the stockyards."

  "The cattle market?" Harol could make no sense of the plan.

  "If we can't go over the walls, we'll have to go under, through the old catacombs; there's an entrance beside the market."

  "No thanks, I'd rather go right back down these stairs. There's some very grisly stories about that place, Sammar. Besides we'd never find our way through."

  "I've a map, Harol, a good one. It's not so far through and it's safe."

  "I still don't like it."

  "Nor do I," Idressin put in. "You never mentioned this before, Sammar. The scare stories I heard as a child about ghosts and demons may be untrue, but people really have got lost in there. You'll never make it unless the map's genuine."

  "Buder got it from a professor at the university, who's a sympathiser. It's a copy of the original in the Karkor archives and according to Buder the man swore it was correct. He's a historian; he's waiting for a permit to go and do some poking about down there himself and this is the map he's going to use: the best, he says. Buder's with the southern attack group, so he’ll be with me."

  "It sounds alright," the tutor said slowly. "We haven't got time to talk about it any longer. Just promise me you'll try to come out above ground if you can." Quick nods from Sammar and Harol. "All clear then? Come on, let's get started."

  "We can't just walk out into the Enclave, can we?" Berin objected.

  "No, but priests can. There'll be lots of them asleep somewhere above us. Let's go and unfrock some of the brethren."

  Less than fifteen minutes later a party of seven 'priests', led by an elder with a long staff, slipped out of a side door of the Ajeddak Temple and found to their consternation that the whole enclave was shrouded in thick fog. The half-moon they were relying on to find their way around did not penetrate the thick blanket with even a glimmer.

  Idressin did not hesitate. "Caldar, you go with Sammar." They gathered close to hear his low whisper. "Trust him, Sammar, he can guide you through this fog. Just remember, Caldar, no heroics. Please. We'll take Harol and Rasscu to the top of the gardens, before we double back to the spur. Good fortune, my friends. Remember to look holy and don't run."

  They separated, and the larger party, each clutching the robe in front, followed Idressin's unerring footsteps to the perimeter wall. Often they heard voices in the fog around them, but the tutor guided them around all obstacles. It was only when they touched it that they could tell the wall was there, so black was the night. Idressin bent to murmur in Harol's ear.

  "There's a guard patrol on the other side of the wall, but they're moving away, and there's no one else within two hundred paces. The gardens are straight down the hill from here. I can detect some movement lower down the slope. A big group, coming up very slowly. That'll be your people. Now get up on the wall with me quietly and use my staff to let yourself down the other side. It's not far down. Rass will be right behind you."

&n
bsp; A quick hand clasp and the tiny girl swung nimbly down into the darkness. There was no sound, but the weight came off the staff. The Tesserit followed, equally silent. Without a pause the tutor climbed back down and led his own party off at a good pace into the foggy expanses of the Enclave.

  Chapter 28

  Of course the subject of vicarious sacrifice introduces other related questions. Can there truly be said to be any element of self-sacrifice if the performer is not the initiator of the action? And if the answer is to be yes, for one of them, then which? And if for both, then what conditions would have to be fulfilled to validate such a conclusion?

  A New Theory of Ethics - Professor Rwswyli, University of Rittabye

  The Under-Temple

  "One of them?" Theyn queried, peering down at the bloody remains of something on the floor. It bore a passing resemblance to a human, but too wide and too thin as if a man had been stamped flat.

  "No, one of mine," the Prentex replied. "I sent him ahead to guard the door. The fool must have looked inside."

  Could Fordosk really do this? It took the startled colonel a moment to realize that of course it would have been the Ajeddak Stone. It was a kind of relief: the Stone was at least supposed to be on their side, although what was coming through the walls down here felt indiscriminately nasty.

  "And will they look like this?"

  "No, they're not in the chamber. Don't ask me how they escaped, I don't know. At this moment they're somewhere above us, on the run."

  Theyn swung away at once. This was a setback they could have done without tonight. Not only did they not have the new prisoners to display, they'd lost the two important ones, Fordosk and the Mederro leader. The only consolation was that it was all Chachi's fault. Yes, that was indeed a pleasing thought.

  "The princess will flay you if they get away, Chachi, Prentex or not. I'll put a general alert out…."

  "There's no need for that," Chachi broke in. "I can locate them accurately, so you can cut them off. As soon as I make the arrangements, the Stone will be able to trace the youth who was in here last."

  He didn't trouble to explain the reasons for Caldar's visit to the chamber or the means of tracing him: neither of them had time for niceties and he had no intention of telling Theyn about the Watchmen.

  For his part the colonel loathed this tricky priest and could not wait to get away from the proximity of the Stone. Here under the Temple he could believe all sorts of childhood nightmares he would rather forget.

  "You can go in there, despite that?" He gestured at the thing on the floor.

  "Yes. It will not take long."

  "Then I suggest you get right to it and report to me in my headquarters as soon as you have anything definite. And be quick!"

  "I'll come up within half an hour and tell you exactly where they are."

  Theyn strode off to report to the princess. There might be some consolations to be taken from this night: the Stone might squash Chachi too, or perhaps the priest really would locate the fugitives and they could be retaken.

  The Enclave

  Time after time the tutor's party had good reason to bless the impenetrable darkness. They slipped between guard posts, stood still as troops marched by with torches just yards away, and passed right through the middle of a large detachment bivouacked across their path. In the end their luck ran out. Idressin halted for the hundredth time, but on this occasion he gathered them together for a whispered conference.

  "We're getting quite near the east end of the Enclave. Just ahead of us it narrows down 'till it's only two hundred paces wide and it's crawling with troops. They're keeping quiet because they want to lure the rebels into the ambush; but they're there and they're packed much too close for us to get through unseen. Time for a new plan. Stay here until I come back: you're behind a wall here, you should be alright. If anyone challenges you, pretend you've taken vows of silence."

  "Where are you going?" Berin asked.

  "To listen and to steal. Don't move."

  There followed half an hour of nerve-wracking inactivity for Berin. Tariska simply sat down cross-legged and appeared to doze, not raising her head even when military feet marched right past them, almost close enough to touch. Suddenly without a warning sound a figure was standing next to them with a shielded lantern. Berin stepped forward instantly, putting himself between the newcomer and Tariska, when the man raised the lantern to shine on his own face. It was Idressin. He eased a bulky load quietly from his shoulder and beckoned Berin forward. Ropes? How on earth had he found ropes in this situation, Berin wondered. And why?

  The tutor whispered, "Copy me." He stripped off his voluminous habit and began winding one of the ropes round and round his body. It was difficult to do it fast, until Tariska got up and helped, flipping loop after loop over Berin's head. With their habits on again two stout priests grinned at each other as they patted their stomachs.

  The tutor beckoned them close again. "Tariska, all the priests here are men, so keep your head down and don’t talk. Berin, you're a renegade who's defiled the Temple. The Archpriest has sentenced you to death and we're escorting you out of the Enclave to throw you off the cliff above the burial grounds. Let me do the talking: I may have to make it up as I go along. I'll tie your hands with a slip-knot. Do your best to look afraid."

  "I am afraid."

  "Good. They'll be reluctant to let us out beyond the walls with the rebels about to attack, so brace yourselves for a nervous few minutes. We'll have to convince whoever's in charge here."

  The greatest danger at the start was of being mistaken for rebels in the murk and cut down in error. So Idressin opened the lantern and held it high. They had barely set off before they were firmly halted and surrounded. Idressin spoke volubly and haughtily in Belugins, but these were seasoned troops, who politely asked him to keep his voice down and to follow them to the command headquarters.

  This proved to be a tent occupied by a tough looking colonel, who asked what the blazes priests thought they were doing wandering round the scene of an imminent battle. Idressin's high-sounding explanation did not produce compliance.

  "I don't give a shit if the Emperor's your father and the Archpriest kisses your arse every morning, you arrogant little hassock-polisher. For the next few hours this part of the world is my responsibility and mine alone. Nobody farts here without my permission. And nobody goes outside the wall. Nobody. Is that clear?"

  This choleric outburst lost some of its force by being delivered in a hoarse whisper. It appeared only to amuse the tutor who raised a sardonic eyebrow, before replying. "Got it all off our chest now, have we?" The colonel's eyes began to bulge with pent-up rage. "Be sure I shall report your vehement adherence to duty to Colonel Theyn. That's right," Idressin continued pleasantly in a low voice, as the officer sat down abruptly, his anger evaporating on the instant, "we're from the little black building just below the Palace, and if the Colonel tells us to dress up as priests and toss someone off the cliff, then the Gods help anyone who gets in our way."

  By strict army protocol this man was as senior as Theyn: but rank had nothing to do with Theyn's reputation. The colonel clearly didn't like capitulating, so the tutor gave him an excuse for honourable withdrawal, silently blessing his luck that he had chanced on one of the more rigid-minded officers of the Guard.

  He leaned over the desk confidingly, "You see, colonel, my boss had an emergency meeting late last night with General Dettekar when there were reports that there might be a heavy mist this morning and Dettekar asked him to come up with a scheme to make quite sure the rebels don't abort their attack. I don't know exactly what’s been planned for any other part of the Enclave, but the general idea is to make the enemy think that everything's normal in here and they've only to get past the routine guard patrols. In order to create this relaxed impression, someone has to go blundering out there, which they would never do if a rebel attack was expected."

  The colonel saw the point of the stratagem alright, but felt
it his duty to grumble a little longer. "Why wasn't I told of this? It's me that has to carry the responsibility here. They could have sent a messenger straight from the meeting."

  "They probably did." Idressin said with a smile. "Have you been outside recently? I'm guessing he's warming himself by a fire somewhere after going round in circles for hours. We were lucky to make it here ourselves after a few false starts."

  Another thought struck the colonel, who took things in steady sequence one after the other like a good military man. "What will you do if you bump into the rebels? You may get killed. And what about him?" His eyes flicked towards Berin. "He'll give everything away."

  "Colonel, it's your duty to sit here and wait. It's ours to get out there and make damn sure the rebels do notice us. We'll be making as much noise as possible." Idressin shrugged. "Getting killed is a risk we're used to in the Special Forces. And rest assured, if we're stopped before we've thrown this offal over the cliff, he won’t get the chance to talk to anybody. That's why I have this little pigsticker here.” A wicked curved knife appeared momentarily from a fold of his habit. “Now, with all due respect, time is short. Give us an escort to the wall and let us get on with our job."

  Acting in direct contravention of his orders did not come easily to the colonel. He did not doubt the authenticity of the man before him, but the whole thing was so irregular that he still hesitated.

  Then the fellow spoke again, a touch more steel and less friendliness in his voice. "You've a good record, colonel. You could have your General's star in a few years if all goes well and it's not for us in Special Forces to interfere in Army business. I might even say we'd approve of you getting your star. So we’ve no intention of mentioning the little mistakes you've made in your otherwise unblemished career. After all you’re not the first man to have difficulty calculating the Emperor's percentage after a southern campaign: tricky when there’s so much loot. The responsibility must have been frightening.”