Dense smoke from a burning house blanketed the main road. Ash rained down. When they entered the rolling black clouds, Jemeryl pulled the neck of her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose, not that it helped much, or stopped her eyes watering. She ploughed on, following Tevi blindly, trusting that her partner knew where they were going. A swirl of breeze created eddies in the smoke as they passed through. In a sudden clearing, Jemeryl looked down and saw a child’s body under her foot. She had been about to tread on it. The smoke rolled back, hiding the young victim. Nausea heaved in Jemeryl’s stomach.
What else might she tread on? This was not just about lost vision. Horror was hiding in the smoke-filled street. Jemeryl could not move, and then Tevi grasped her hand and dragged her on, around a corner into a clearer patch of road. Jemeryl leaned against a wall, gasping in the marginally fresher air and fighting with her stomach.
More bodies lay here, among them a red-cloaked sentinel. Dispassionately, Tevi made a quick search. “Someone’s taken his sword, but…” She stood up with a long dagger in her hand. “This will be better than nothing.”
At sudden loud shouts, Tevi glanced around, then took Jemeryl’s arm, pressing her back into the cover of a doorway. A raucous gang stumbled by, their arms full of goods. The most prized were the bottles that several looters had in their hands. The contents were obviously alcoholic, which might account for the rabble’s cheerfulness. To Jemeryl’s disgust, a few were even singing.
“Someone always finds the wine shop first,” Tevi muttered.
Jemeryl rested her forehead on Tevi’s shoulder, trying to draw strength from her. This was an arena that Tevi knew. How to survive in a world of violence and bloodshed. The split-second judgements that would determine whether you saw sunrise the next day. How to dismiss the fate of the dead from your mind, so that you could focus on the threats of the living.
If Tevi wasn’t here, would I be able to cope with it, Jemeryl wondered. Would I survive, even if I had my magic?
“As I thought. It’s a nightmare,” Tevi said.
“How are we going to find Ci in all this?” Jemeryl tried to focus on the practical issue.
“If we see anyone who looks like they could give a reasonable answer, we could ask. Failing that, I’d guess he’ll have headed towards the centre of town.”
“Right.” Jemeryl took a deep breath and then coughed. “Shall we go on?”
“Sure. But keep alert. No one around here is going to waste time asking, ‘friend or foe?’”
Progress was slow through the town, avoiding burning houses and looters, although most of Ciamon’s army were too busy rifling through the wreckage to bother them. By the time they reached the civic centre of Villenes, the sun was low in the sky. Soon it would be dark. Already the burning buildings were showing up like beacons, lighting the streets.
“Stop! Please stop. Equalitus wants you to stop.”
Jemeryl recognised Ciamon’s voice. He had to be less than a hundred yards away. She tapped Tevi’s shoulder and pointed in the direction of the plea. Tevi nodded and led the way under an archway which brought them out in a cobbled square. At the far end were steps leading up to the town hall. The doors had been smashed off their hinges and now hung awry across the entrance. Ciamon stood at the top of the stairs, with the wrecked doors as a backdrop, shouting at the gangs of looters who shambled by. Few gave him a second glance. Either they did not recognise him without the robes, or they were too drunk to care.
“Come on. Let’s get him,” Tevi said.
Piles of debris littered the ground. Jemeryl followed Tevi on a zigzagging route, skirting the obstructions and keeping out of Ciamon’s direct line of sight. Now they had tracked him down, they did not want him to evade them again.
Eventually they reached an alcove in deep shadow at the side of the stairs, directly beneath where Ciamon stood. He still showed no sign of seeing them. Tevi took a step forward and then retreated, pushing Jemeryl back under cover of a stack of smashed crates. One of the more troublesome-looking gangs sauntered past. Several had acquired swords which they brandished at Ciamon, although none did more than jeer.
The echoes of their whooping had barely faded when Jemeryl heard another sound—hoofbeats and marching feet. Judging by her expression. Tevi had recognised it too. In all the chaos, somebody was exerting control over a disciplined group.
“Who do you think that is?” Jemeryl asked.
“Sentinels under a halfway decent officer would be my guess.”
“They’re coming this way.”
“Sounds like it.” Tevi looked up. “We may have missed our chance to snag Ciamon.”
“Whoever it is might be on our side, the town watch or something.”
“That would be nice, but I doubt it. We’ll wait to see, before we step out and say hello.”
The sounds of hoof and foot got louder, and then a troop of red-cloaked sentinels marched into the square, some carrying torches against the thickening darkness. They were following three people on horseback. Jemeryl was not surprised to see Sefriall in the lead. However, Tevi gasped.
“What is it?” Jemeryl whispered.
“On Sefriall’s right. That man. It’s Parrash.”
Jemeryl had no time to think it through. Already the riders had halted before the town hall steps.
“Sefriall. You’ve got to stop them. They’re killing people. They mustn’t,” Ciamon shouted.
Sefriall ignored him. She turned to the rider on her left. “Clear the square and make sure we aren’t disturbed. I have some private business to conduct.”
The man was wearing a red cloak and high-crested helmet, with enough gold trim and embellishments to mark him as a senior officer. He barked a series of orders at his subordinates. The column of sentinels broke into groups that marched across the square, scattering any looters before them. The soldiers then took up positions across the roads and alleys leading in, blocking all access to the square.
Jemeryl froze, her heart pounding, but no one had thought to investigate the dark alcove under the stairs, so she and Tevi were left undiscovered. She looked up. Sefriall was now within arm’s reach of Ciamon. The man Tevi had identified as Parrash stood at her side.
“Sefriall, I told you. You have to stop the killing.” Ciamon was more insistent.
“Why?”
“Because people are being killed. They’re—”
“And your problem with this is…?”
“Hundreds of people are dying.”
“Precisely. News of what has happened here will spread. What town will dare defy us now? All will open their gates to our armies.”
“You’re not upset?” Ciamon sounded incredulous.
“No. It’s what I wanted.”
“Wanted? You meant this to happen?”
“Of course. I planned it.”
“You meant for all this death?”
“It’s distasteful but necessary.”
“No. It isn’t. Equalitus is a god of peace.”
Sefriall laughed. “Equalitus is a god of fools. Your god is a sad joke. Only the Cyclians have the true faith.”
“You’re…” Ciamon’s voice died, his bewilderment plain.
“Did you think I’d forsake my gods for your pathetic child’s fantasy? Especially when I saw so clearly that you were an unwitting tool of Toqwani, the destroyer. You’ve set in motion the destruction of the Coven and the sorcerers who mock us. Now it’s my turn to do the will of Rashem, the reclaimer. From the ruins of the Protectorate we will build a new empire. A holy empire. It will dwarf all that has gone before. The word of the gods will be law.”
“I’ll have no part in this.” Ciamon had got over his surprise and was turning to anger.
“True. You won’t. You’ve fulfilled your purpose, and your job is over.”
“If you think I’m just going to walk away from this and leave you to it, you’re wrong.”
“No. I’ve never thought that. Which is why I’ve been trying to ha
ve you killed. I’m hoping third time lucky.”
“You what?”
Sefriall stepped forward. In the last of the daylight, Jemeryl saw the glint of a long blade, thrust out. Ciamon gasped, a strange, high-pitched noise like the air leaking from an inflated bladder. His face contorted in pain, and then eased, losing all expression in the serenity of death. His eyes rolled back, showing white as his body crashed onto the steps.
Jemeryl felt a scream die, strangled in her throat. The memory of every hopeless nightmare taunted her, but for this there would be no waking to relief tomorrow. This was real and forever. Her stomach and bowels kicked in synchronised spasms, both threatening to empty. Tears trickled down her face. Ciamon was gone and, with all his faults, he had deserved better.
Sefriall stepped away. Blood dripped from the edge of the dagger in her hand. She cast a reproachful look at Parrash. “You know what they say about when you want a job done.”
“I followed your orders.”
“I don’t remember ordering you to alert the mercenary to the plan.”
Parrash scowled, evidently deciding not to argue his case any further. He kicked at the body by his feet. “What are we going to do about him?”
“We’ll have him disposed of.” Sefriall turned and called out, “Belshaleid, I need some assistance. Send me four strong sentinels.”
“Yes, my lady.” The other horse rider was currently patrolling the outskirts of the square.
The requested sentinels arrived in short order.
“Take this carcass away,” Sefriall ordered. “Find the hottest fire in town to dump it in. I don’t want any chance of it being recognised. Get something to wrap him in so no one will spot him on the way. Understood?”
“Yes, lady.”
Once the sentinels had left with Ciamon’s body, Sefriall turned to Parrash. “So far it’s all going well.”
“Do you really think people will believe the story about Ciamon ascending into the sky on a beam of light?”
Sefriall gave a bark of laughter. “Of course. By morning they’ll all have a hangover and a bad conscience, and ought to be malleable enough. The amount some of the rabble are drinking, there’ll be a couple dozen witnesses who’ll be sure they saw it with their own eyes. They ought to convince any doubters.” She patted Parrash on the shoulder. “Come. We have things to organise before we return to Kradja.”
The two priests walked down the steps and back to their horses. The sentinels formed up in columns and marched away behind them, leaving the square empty in the fading light. The shroud of smoke over Villenes was turning red and amber in the sunset.
Jemeryl knew she was shaking. Tevi must have been able to feel it as well. “Jem? Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
Tevi’s arms tightened around her in a hug. “I’m sorry about Ciamon. I know you liked him.”
Jemeryl caught her lower lip in her teeth and could only nod.
“We might as well go.”
Jemeryl squirmed free of Tevi’s embrace and staggered uncertainly up the steps to the spot where Ciamon had died. The streak of red blood was soaking into the porous stone. She sank down beside it. Tevi joined her, but made no attempt to intervene or hurry her along.
Memories kept running through Jemeryl’s head. The first time she’d seen him, a boy of twelve, standing in a corridor in Lyremouth on a rainy day, joking about the state of his shirt, then turning to her with an open smile, inviting her to join in the laughter.
The last time they had made love. They had both known it was over. It had been a gentle good-bye, for old times’ sake. A soft warm memory, to hold over the years ahead. Jemeryl closed her eyes, remembering again his face—his forehead creased, his mouth opened, his face contorting just like it had when Sefriall had sunk the knife into his heart. Now she would never recall one event without the other.
Jemeryl’s tears fell on the stone and were also absorbed.
*
Fires still burned, lighting the night, but the mayhem on the streets was quietening down, due partly to the patrols of sentinels. Now that Sefriall’s goals had been met, her soldiers were curbing the excesses of violence and taking weapons off anyone not wearing a red cloak. The other main reason for the decline in anarchy was that all the worst offenders were too drunk to stand, let alone cause trouble.
The sound of marching boots alerted Tevi to another patrol, coming in their direction. She and Jemeryl dived into a doorway and huddled there, trying to look like looters, sleeping off a hard day’s pillaging. The patrol passed by without a second glance. The footsteps faded down the street. In the following silence, Tevi heard distant singing, and one long drawn-out scream. Pockets of disorder still existed. Closer by, she heard the sound of sobbing. Villenes was in ruins. Would it ever be rebuilt?
Once the patrol was out of sight, Tevi stood and scanned up and down the street. Midnight was long past and they had to be away by dawn. Regardless of whether Sefriall saw Jemeryl as a threat, the Cyclian priest had no love of sorcerers and might want a bargaining chip with the Coven. With luck, Sefriall currently had other things on her mind, but surely the word would soon go out to capture them, if it had not already.
In order to get away, she and Jemeryl needed transport. Unfortunately, the horses were in the main encampment, at the other side of the ridge where Ciamon’s army had been assembled that afternoon. Tevi had a dim view of the professionalism and competence of the sentinels, but even so, they would have sentries set. Trying to sneak into the centre of their camp would be very risky and only to be considered as a last resort, but if they did not get lucky in another hour or so, they would be out of options.
A hefty snort and the jangle of a bridle came from close by. Tevi exchanged a quick look with Jemeryl and together they crept in the direction of the sound, keeping to the shadows. Another jangle and the shuffle of hooves carried cleanly on the night air. By now, Tevi was close enough to tell that it was coming from a yard behind what had once been a blacksmith’s forge, although the building had been reduced to a burnt-out shell.
Tevi tried to keep her optimism in check. Two similar alerts had turned out to be an officer, surrounded by a dozen sentinels, and a couple of donkeys. However, when she slipped around the final corner, she saw a situation better than she had dared hope for.
Two sentinels were huddled in a corner, arms locked around each other in an embrace. By the looks of it, the soldiers were either scouts or couriers. Their horses were tethered nearby—fast, strong animals with well-stocked packs behind their saddles. The sentinels had also chosen a secluded spot for their encounter. This was understandable on their part. No matter how lax the army discipline, their officers would not be pleased if the two sentinels were caught at their current activity while on duty.
Tevi weighed up her options. Currently, the sentinels’ attention was entirely given to each other. Were they so intent that they would not notice her sneak up on them? Or might another tactic be better? She dared not let them raise the alarm. There was no guarantee that none of their comrades were in earshot.
Her mind made up, Tevi pushed away from the wall and stumbled forward into the moonlight. By the time she was halfway across the yard, her uneven footsteps had caught the sentinels’ notice. They broke off from their kiss.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
Tevi faltered, reeled to the left, and then lurched onward, acting like a drunken looter.
“Clear off.”
Tevi paid no notice. She staggered to a pillar a little to their left and leaned her hands against it, arms locked and head sagging, retching as if about to throw up.
“If you don’t fucking shove off, I’m going to kick your arse right across Villenes.”
The sentinels levered themselves out of the corner and approached Tevi, hastily adjusting their clothing. The nearest one threw a swinging punch at her, but it was a gesture more than an attack, intended to get her attention and unbalance her rather than cause harm.
/>
Tevi ducked and caught hold of his arm. She pulled him sharply towards her and rammed the top of her head into his face. At the same time, her free hand pounded into his stomach. The sentinel fell back, dazed and groaning, onto his comrade, who was standing behind him. The second sentinel was clearly surprised to have his lover back in his arms so soon. Before he had worked out what to do with the dead weight he was holding, Tevi’s fist smashed into his jaw, sending both crashing to the ground.
Earlier in the night, Tevi had picked up several lengths of cord. She had one sentinel’s hands tied behind his back before either had started to move. The second was making an effort to squirm out from under his comrade, but a few more blows kept him down long enough to bind his hands as well.
“Neat.” Jemeryl was at the horses, examining their packs, but she broke off long enough for a word of approval.
“Thanks.”
“It looks like we have several days’ provisions here.”
“Couldn’t be better.”
Tevi stripped the red cloaks from the sentinels and then tore strips from their shirts to make gags. Jemeryl joined her as she tied the last knot.
“Is it all right to leave them?”
Tevi frowned. Both sentinels had their eyes open, although one was clearly having trouble focusing. “Knocks to the head are hard to predict. If one has a concussion and starts to be sick, I guess he might—”
“I meant, won’t they set the pursuit onto us when they’re found?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so.” Tevi crouched down. “Because they were riding on patrol when someone called to them. They followed the voice and got jumped by six horse thieves. They certainly weren’t so busy making out that one lone woman got the drop on them.”
The sentinels could only glare back at her. Tevi was pleased to note that both were now looking alert. Choking on vomit was not something she would wish on anyone, not even incompetent enemies.
The sentinels had discarded their helmets before getting into their amorous embrace. Tevi tossed one to Jemeryl, keeping the other for herself. “With these and the cloaks, we shouldn’t get stopped on our way out of town.”
The High Priest and the Idol Page 17
