“There must be some way,” I said. “Isn’t there some sort of, what is it called, postern gate? Sally port?”
Mulldoos glared at me. “The witches ain’t exactly in unfamiliar territory, scribbler. They know every entry point in the plaguing Tower, down to the stinking garderobes the gong farmers plaguing harvest. Not. Happening.”
I must have inspired Vendurro though. “What about the grappling hooks back at the roof of the cistern tower? Maybe we could sneak in a window somewhere, get into the Tower that way?”
“And maybe,” Mulldoos said, slurring only a little, “we could just throw stones up at a window and get all the witches to poke their heads out at the same time and shoot them in their dumb plaguing faces?”
Rudgi shook her head. “Lieutenant Mull is right—we’d clank those hooks against the stones ten times before getting them to latch. This isn’t the lip of the cistern ten feet above us, and even that took more than one try. And the stones aren’t like that Deserter keep—almost no hand or footholds to speak of on Jackal Tower. So climbing just isn’t going to happen. If we get in, it’ll have to be some other way.”
Braylar was staring over the rooftops at the visible portion of Jackal Tower, the Deserter heads clinking together as he moved Bloodsounder to point with the haft. “It is immaterial. As difficult as entry is, that would be the least of our concerns. Even if we could somehow get inside without raising an alarm, and even if we could somehow sneak up every floor to the Commander’s chambers, also miraculously without alerting the captors, unlike the Memoridons guarding the frame, these witches will be highly alert, prepared for just such a reckless attempt to free Darzaak and the others. And you can be sure that my sweet sister has alerted them to the properties of this flail, on the very remote chance I would be a large enough idiot to attempt just suck a foolish rescue. So they would not waste time trying to bring me down with any memory magic.
“What’s more, you surely recall that we had Skeelana helping to confuse them in the frame room as well. No, we will not take them unawares twice. They would strike anyone else down with memory magic, and me with very mundane weapons, but even if I somehow got close enough to slay even two or three Memoridons, you can be sure one hanging back would be more than willing to cut down the Commander and the other captains.”
He turned and looked at all of us. “As much as I would love to rescue the Commander and free the Jackals, it will not be here or now.” Through clenched teeth, he said, “Until a better possibility presents itself, we must withdraw.”
Mulldoos slapped his meaty thigh. “About plaguing time!”
“Where to then, Cap?” Vendurro asked, sounding and looking as tired as I felt. “Holing up somewhere in Sunwrack?”
“Impossible,” the captain replied. “Soffjian told me to run, and I suspect she actually intends to let us, but she cannot delay tracking us long.”
Mulldoos said, “That cunt’s got nothing good for us, and less. She betrayed the whole Empire, and she’ll blast our skulls open or see us hanging from our entrails the first chance she gets.”
Braylar gave him a long unreadable look. “You are incorrect on one point, Lieutenant. Soffjian can track nearly everyone here, and her bind to me is incredibly strong, much as I wish it were otherwise. She can sense I am still in Sunwrack, even now, I am sure of it. And while she is no doubt busy conducting the largest coup in history this moment, if she wanted us dead today, she could snap her fingers and make it happen. But you can be sure our grace period will run out very soon. So we have to leave Sunwrack. Tonight.”
Rudgi said, “But the bridges are hauled in, and the gates shut tight, Cap. Nobody is leaving through the gates tonight, and probably not anytime soon.”
Sometimes it was difficult to catch the twitch smile in the sunlight, and twice as hard in the dark, but I felt certain I saw it. “I never said we were walking out the gates, did I?”
It took everyone a moment to realize what he meant, and then Mulldoos groaned and Vendurro said, “Cap, your sister knows how we came in. Sure as spit she’ll have posted guards at the cisterns by now?”
“Not if she truly is offering us one chance to escape.”
“But why would she do that, Cap? Mull is right, doesn’t make any plaguing sense.”
Braylar replied, “The draining lake of Roxtiniak is less mysterious than the inner workings of a woman’s mind, Lieutenant, and none are more perplexing than my sister’s. I make no boasts about divining the meaning there, but she is giving us a small opportunity. And we will seize it.” He clapped Vendurro on the back. “At least we will be leaving a city without having to kill everyone first, yes?”
Then Braylar looked at Rudgi. “Guide us back to the cisterns, Sergeant, and be sure we do not run afoul of any patrols or inexplicably homeless Syldoon roaming the streets. Once there, take three men inside and be sure there are no traps awaiting us.”
She nodded and set off into the shadows with the other scouts.
My legs wearier than at any time I could remember, I followed the captain and his retinue back to the cisterns and the aqueduct that connected them to the outside world.
After navigating our way through the streets and avoiding one other battle between rival factions, and being assured by Rudgi and the scouts that the cistern tower was as bloody as we left it, but still very much deserted, as Braylar predicted, we made it to the roof.
The prospect of another all-night crawl through the aqueduct was daunting, and my muscles already quailed at how grueling it would be, but the captain assured us that we wouldn’t have to hunch our way the entire stretch back up into the foothills and the abandoned mine—once were a mile or two out from Sunwrack, we could descend and make our way through the darkened hills by foot. That was something. A slightly less exhausting and odorous something, but something, just the same. After allowing us a small break to fill our bellies and briefly rest, it was time to leave Sunwrack yet again, albeit by the most underused road possible.
The descent down the rope ladder was uneventful (it would have been far more eventful if Vendurro hadn’t grabbed my belt as I nearly lost my balance and plunged to the stone streets below). We got on our bellies again, the Jackals drew their surokas to ward off any other hungry bullcrabs, and we started crawling. Thankfully, we didn’t have to kill any of those either as we made our slow exit from the City of Coups, never more aptly named than this day.
Occasionally the sounds of some combat floated up from somewhere, but distant, and infrequent now that it was deep into the night again. Whoever resisted was either cut down or determined to carry on the fight once the sun returned.
I felt the emptiness of the Trench beneath me, and then we were back on our feet, trudging forward, backs aching, eyelids heavier than stones. In the deep dark of the aqueduct, it was so incredibly tempting to simply sit down and lean against the wall, listening to the water gurgle past as I closed my eyes and didn’t open them again for three days, but the captain drove us on.
True to his word, once we got to the first access station, a scout climbed out and checked the terrain, and when we got the signal it was clear, we all followed, taking the built-in stone ladder down to the earth below. After seeing nothing for such a long stretch but the utter blackness of the aqueduct, the stars above looked radiant, brighter than torches, and the cool night air was a welcome and refreshing change from being forced to smell nothing but our own stink and the stale air trapped inside. The ability to stand up straight was also an undeniable relief. I was still exhausted, but we were clear. There was always the chance some mounted Syldoon might show up at any moment and kill or capture us, but for the moment, we were free.
Braylar led us on through the night, one foot after another as we traversed the hills, keeping the aqueduct in sight but ourselves as hidden as the infrequent trees and brush allowed.
The next miles went quicker than the ones in the aqueduct had, but we still moved slowly and cautiously, partly to be as quiet as possible an
d avoid detection, and also to prevent anyone turning or breaking an ankle on the uneven ground in the dark as we put one tired foot in front of the next.
When we finally sighted the mine, I exhaled so deep and long I felt like it might never stop. And when I overheard the captain send a runner ahead to let the remaining Jackals know we were coming and not to shoot us, I nearly wept. I’d feared he was going to order us to saddle our horses and ride to some other site, and when Mulldoos asked him why we didn’t, the captain replied, “My sister is not coming for us. Not yet, at least. But if she chose to, riding ten or fifteen miles further would not prevent her from tracking us. We would have to ride through the Godveil to prevent that. Which it might come to yet. But not tonight.”
I expected the lieutenant to grumble and growl a bit, as he was wont to do, but he had to have been as weary as I was, because while he clearly didn’t agree, it didn’t seem he had the energy to argue.
We walked the remaining distance to the abandoned mine, and though it was a rocky bed, I’d never been happier to lay my head down to sleep in my entire life.
Dawn came and went without anyone shaking me back to life, as did noon. It was only midday when I felt Vendurro’s hand on my shoulder and finally woke, ravenous, disoriented, and hoping it was all a mad dream, that maybe we hadn’t even taken the aqueduct yet, that the deposed emperor was alive still, a Jackal hadn’t turned on his own, and the Memoridons hadn’t captured or killed every significant leader in the capital city, and quite possibly all the provinces where Towers resided.
But one look on the young lieutenant’s face dispelled that notion immediately. While he must have gotten some rest as well, he had the dark circles and haunted look of someone who also felt like he was stuck in a nightmare, or feared falling back into one. He tried a half smile as he handed me a hard heel of bread that must have been soaked in bacon fat hours earlier, as even cold it tasted like something fit for an emperor.
I tore into it as he handed me a flask of warm water, also tasting far better than it had any right to.
Vendurro squatted beside me as he said, “Rough going the last day or two, eh?”
I nodded and spit crumbs as I said, “Rough going,” wondering if he could understand either word. After taking another swig, I tried again. “What are we going to do now?”
Vendurro spun a pine cone in the dirt. “That, Arki, is one plaguing tough question that’s got no kind of answer at all. Or none Cap saw fit to share with me. I expect he’ll give us our marching orders soon enough.” He looked around at the abandoned and rusted equipment. “Unless he figures we’re going to take up mining. Then it’ll be digging orders. Though after yesterday, can’t say that that would be the worst idea ever.”
I looked over at the other Jackals gathered nearby, all looking uneasy, anxious, and for the first time, not very Syldoonian. It was one thing to be driven out of their home city by a rival faction and to see their brethren who couldn’t make it in time cut down on a bridge. As awful as it was, that was at least somewhat familiar territory. But this . . . this was something else altogether. Not unlike crossing the Veil for the first time. They had no idea what lay ahead, or how poorly they might be equipped to handle it.
Rudgi walked over and said, “Sorry to interrupt the feast, but Cap wants us all to attend. Well, the officers and you, Arki. Come on.”
Vendurro stood and dusted his hands off on his trousers. “Time to get marching or digging.”
He forced a smile, but it was weak and unconvincing.
We both followed Rudgi away from the mine, and in the same general direction as where she and I had had our brief but all-too-memorable encounter what felt like another lifetime ago. I wondered if I truly pleased her, if there were any chance of it ever happening again, and then cursed myself.
Braylar was standing, pacing slowly, and Mulldoos was sitting on a fallen tree, apparently transfixed by the pale hairs on the back of his hand. There was another somewhat familiar Jackal leaning against the tree, looking up at the slowly passing clouds as if watching the most magnificent galleons on the most fantastic sea imaginable.
The captain stopped pacing as we navigated around the trunks of some thin weeper pine and watched us until we joined them in the small glade. “Well. Our council has grown small indeed.” Braylar looked at us and then over to the other officer. “You remember Sergeant Bruznik, of course? Well, perhaps not Arki. Arki, the sergeant, Sergeant Bruznik, Arki.” He looked at Bruznik, eyes looking mossier than usual in the midday sun. “You no doubt felt slighted not being included in our little raid the other day, Sergeant, but I do hope you count yourself incredibly lucky. For you are.”
Sergeant Bruznik stepped away from the tree. “Not one to question your orders, Cap, but still wishing I had been there to lend a hand. Never did much like the Ogre. Would have been glad to stick him a time or two, chance allowing.” He spit in the dirt.
“I appreciate both the sentiment and the novelty of such fierce loyalty, you can be certain. It is more rare than it should be these days.” The captain waved a hand, inviting us to join the small circle.
Sergeant Bruznik gave me a brief nonjudgmental nod, and if he wondered why I was included in the captain’s retinue, he didn’t ask.
Vendurro asked, “Any word about what happened to that bastard Cynead?”
Bruznik replied, “Nothing to be said for certain. Looked like he was about to flank and overwhelm Thumaar’s troops out in the field when he stepped in a big pile of cowshit. All sudden like, his army halted, lost cohesion, seemed confused or operating under conflicting orders or whatnot. Then it seemed to fray at the seams, the center couldn’t hold. Some battalions kept marching on the Confederates and Anjurians and Thumaar’s boys, some fell back, others broke off completely. From what you all said, the Mems had something to do with that. But still no word on whether they threw him in chains or offed him right there.”
I asked, “How did the battle play out then?”
Sergeant Bruznik looked at me, and while it was flat, there was no obvious hostility there. “There were heavy casualties on both sides. But Cynead had the upper hand. His big forces broke down right when they had things in hand. We figured your plan worked out just like you hoped.”
“You figured wrong,” Braylar said. “But from what you said, I imagine they did in fact capture the emperor. Deposed emperor, now. If not, news of his death and the Memoridon betrayal would have spread like brush fire, and his imperial army would have been in total disarray. General Kruzinios might have been able to rout them, even, or at least drive them from the field, victorious. But from what you said, they regrouped after a time and started a guarded retreat back to Sunwrack.”
“That’s right, Cap,” Bruznik said. “Some Confederate skirmishers harried them, and the imperial army, well, Memoridon now, I reckon, they engaged, slowed down to protect their flanks. But there was no question they were quitting the field.”
Mulldoos said, “Those cunts are no better than Azmorgon when it comes down to it, but they are ten kinds of clever. Got to grant them that. Bold move, seizing all the leaders. Might not pan out in the long run, but in the short, they grabbed the Towers by the jewels, slid a suroka right close, and dared them to squawk.”
Braylar dropped his hand to Bloodsounder, not in a threatening manner, but slowly, deliberately, as if checking a divining rod for signs of an underground stream. “Is it so very strange they seized this opportunity when it presented itself?”
Vendurro asked, “What do you mean, Cap?”
“I mean,” he said, watching a passing cloud, “are they so very different from every one of our emperors in history? They saw weakness, and methodically took the initiative to pounce. And from their perspective, they are not only power hungry, but righting a millennium of wrongs, of slavery.”
Mulldoos’s good eye nearly bugged out of his head. “Wait . . . are you plaguing defending them, Cap?”
“Defending? No. I merely point out that had role
s been reversed, had it been us bound to serve with no possibility of release, with no—”
Mulldoos pushed himself off the log, and it creaked under his weight before he rose. “Those vicious slits have Darzaak, the other captains, the other Commanders across the whole plaguing Empire under the knife just now, and you’re plaguing talking about the horsecunts’ plaguing motivation?”
Braylar turned and regarded Mulldoos but said nothing right away. Everyone seemed to tense up, but then the captain smiled. Not the twitchy kind or the mocking version, not the mummer’s kind as he attempted to win over or play an Anjurian mark, but the very rare, earnest, and prolonged smile he only favored a staunch ally with. “You are right, Lieutenant. Their motivations do not matter, whether we agree about them or diverge. All that matters is what we do now. Which is why you are here.”
He looked around our small group, taking us each in in turn, and stopping again when he reached Mulldoos. “You are fond of saying that I seldom solicit your input, and often disregard it even when I do. But I am inviting it now. And will dismiss nothing out of hand. So. While I am not relinquishing my post and will determine our direction, I ask you, what do you suggest, oh erudite and practical retinue?”
Mulldoos looked at Vendurro. “Is this a trap? Sort of feels like a plaguing trap.”
Braylar replied, “I assure you, while I am fond of setting traps, this is not one of them. Speak. The floor is yours.”
No one spoke at first, perhaps stunned, but then Rudgi said, “Well, we can’t stay here, that’s for certain. Maybe Soffjian let you flee Sunwrack, maybe she didn’t—another divergent debate no doubt—but even if she didn’t, that’s not to say the other Memoridons will. We have no idea who truly rules right now, but if it’s not her, others might press her on our whereabouts.”
Chains of the Heretic Page 52
