The guard helped him weave his way to the front of the crowd. At the corner, he saw that the main road was indeed filled with musicians and people dancing, but he couldn’t tell who had organized the dancers. It was the strangest mixture he had ever seen—robed priests, commoners, crafters, and dockworkers, even children, though they should have been in school at that hour.
Eutychon frowned. “Is this some sort of protest? Have the rabble organized against us? Tell your captain to break up this crowd at once.”
The guard shrugged helplessly. “We tried. The first few days, it worked, but more people show up every day, and they just don’t listen.”
Eutychon sputtered with rage. “How long has this been going on?”
He was interrupted by someone shouting at him. “Eutychon!”
He turned, dreading the familiar voice.
Councilor Zeno came swaying toward him through the throng of dancers and threw an arm over his shoulder. “Isn’t it marvelous?” he said. “This is the best party I’ve been to all week. Will you come dance with me?”
Eutychon sniffed, but couldn’t detect any wine on Zeno’s breath. All the same, the other man was behaving like a drunkard. “You should not be disgracing yourself this way in public. This is not a party, it’s a riot.”
“We came from Gaikos’s house!” Zeno went on as if he hadn’t heard anything Eutychon had said. “These musicians are just lovely, and they make the lights sparkle! Doesn’t it make you want to dance?”
He looked up with a scowl, then gasped when he saw what Zeno was pointing at. Lights were sparkling overhead—tiny, crystalline bugs. He realized with horror what the dancing must mean. But how had they spread?
He gripped Zeno’s shoulders, trying to make him stand still. “Get a hold of yourself. This dancing is—it’s not healthy.” He stopped himself from saying too much, afraid of who could overhear him.
The other man’s feet kept moving. “Why? I’m having fun, and it’s the most exercise I’ve gotten in ages. You should come join us.” With surprising strength, Zeno wrenched out of Eutychon’s grasp and danced away.
Eutychon went back to the guard and drew him aside. “I will speak with your captain. We must find a way to deal with these dancers in a way that keeps everyone safe without blocking all of the roads. You must try to keep people calm about this.”
The guard bowed and left to pass on the message.
Eutychon stared at the dancers and ran his hands through his hair. Something had gone terribly wrong, and he had no idea how to deal with it.
Eutychon looked down at Zeno, strapped to the bed. Drool leaked out one corner of the Councilor’s mouth and his chest rose and fell with heavy wheezing: the only signs that he still lived.
The physician bent over the bed and held Zeno’s wrist for several moments, then nodded. “As you can see, we’ve had to keep him sedated for his own safety. Several other members of his household have already died. We have been force-feeding him, but he doesn’t have much time left.”
Eutychon shook his head. “And you’re sure that they were all dancing?”
The physician nodded. “Even in restraints.”
He gripped the edge of the bed. “And you tried the remedy that the mage sent in the letter?”
“No, Councilor.” The physician turned and pointed to two young men standing against the wall. “These are Ameyron’s research assistants, who were personally involved in administering the original remedy. They have sworn that not a trace of the remedy remains.”
“Then write to Petropouli and offer them any sum they demand for their remedy.” He shook his head again. “I do not understand how this could have happened. The house was supposed to be clean. All the bugs should have died months ago.”
The physician cleared his throat. “There’s more. I’ve seen deaths all over this neighborhood, and my colleagues tell me there are other victims, yet we are still not allowed to talk about it openly. We should declare a quarantine and clear everyone out.”
Eutychon glared at the incompetent fool. “And send them where? The whole city is under siege by that damned warlord.” He clenched his hands into fists. “If we let anyone find out about what is happening, then panic will start. The people are looking for any excuse to riot now. Keep this quiet, and make sure your staff don’t breathe a word, or I will have your head.”
The physician bowed. “Yes, Councilor.”
He turned to leave the room. Something at the doorway made him pause and turn back. “Just how far have the symptoms spread?”
“Most of the cases are in the High District, but at least four households in this district are affected as well.” The physician pursed his lips. “If it spreads to the crowded living areas of the poorer districts, it will be impossible to control.”
Eutychon thought uncomfortably of his own house just two streets over. Perhaps he could arrange for somewhere else to stay for the time-being. “I see. Keep trying to come up with a cure. And I want to know right away if his condition changes.”
On his way outside, he stopped and talked to the guards at the door. “Make sure to keep an eye on the staff here. If anyone is trying to pass messages of any kind about what is going on, arrest them.”
The guards nodded. “Yes, sir.”
39
Galenos VIII
Galenos stood on the wall of Fort Ropytos, looking out over the empty road. He couldn’t see the capital, and he had no way of knowing what went on behind the city’s walls. He had to guess when to make his move, and that made him anxious.
He had made no offensive movement against Kyratia yet. He had soldiers posted on the roads so that no one could get in or out of the city by land, but he couldn’t control movement of ships in or out of the bay. The Council had to know that he was holding them under siege, but they made no move against him, keeping the Mauve Dragon Company within their walls. And the warlord didn’t test their defenses with an attack.
He wondered what he was waiting for. Did he hope that an opponent would appear in the battlefield for him to face in a fair fight? Or perhaps the denizens of the city would simply grow desperate, cut off from their supply of food, and open their gates in surrender? For once, the experienced warlord didn’t have a strategy. He merely had a feeling in his gut that the timing wasn’t right, somehow, and he held back from committing to the fight.
His leading officers stood on the wall with him, eager to advise his next move.
“Let’s launch a full-scale attack now and get it over with,” Varranor urged. He leaned against the parapet and looked down on the troops, since there were still substantial numbers kept in the fort. “We can take it in a day or two. We’ve defeated the Mauve Dragons before, and now that awful woman who leads them is missing an eye. We just hit her blind side.” He laughed at his own joke.
An older commander shook his head. “We should send a messenger with a demand for their surrender. They must know how vulnerable they are, and they will cave at the first chance we give them.”
The sergeant next to him shook her head. “If they were going to surrender, they would have run up a white flag already. We need to press them harder. Launch a few smaller attacks, just to show them that we are serious.”
“You’re wasting your time with conventional fighting methods,” another officer insisted. “Kyratia is too well-defended with their fortifications. Those guns will cause us heavy losses if we get anywhere near. We have to find a way to disable the guns before we can hope to attack the city.”
They argued their cases amongst themselves, going back and forth over the various issues. Galenos waved off their arguments at last and shook his head.
“The best course of action is the one that they will not expect.” He looked straight at Varranor. “Right now, they expect us to attack them directly, since they appear so vulnerable. That’s a very good sign that this could all be a trap. We shall watch and wait for the time being until we can tell more about what’s going on in the city.”
>
Varranor and several other officers looked upset, but they all bowed to his decision.
Galenos looked back at the road. Basileos’s ghost stood untouched by mud, staring back at him. The shade did not speak or tell him what it wanted. It merely stood and watched with hollow eyes as he tried to decide Kyratia’s future. He wondered if he would ever satisfy the ghost enough to make it go away, or if he was doomed to be haunted by his old patron forever.
His gaze turned to the duke’s daughter, Korinna, and the other marewing riders training in the field. Suddenly he knew what to do.
“Prepare the troops to move out in the morning,” Galenos ordered his infantry officers. “Everyone that we can spare, put them in a direct assault on the main walls.” He turned to Varranor. “Bring all the marewing flight commanders to my office.”
Galenos stepped up onto the podium with Varranor at his side. Before them were arranged all of the soldiers prepared to go into battle against Kyratia: almost one thousand men and women, some of whom had been with them for a decade or more, some of them newly trained who had never seen a battle before.
The infantry and the archers would get some sleep, then rise early and march to the city under the cover of darkness, taking advantage of the long night. As long as it didn’t rain too much to slow their progress—which was unlikely, since the winter storms usually started slowly, and wouldn’t begin in earnest for another month—they would reach the capital city by dawn to launch the main attack.
But according to the plan that he and his brother had concocted, he and the other marewing riders were in for a sleepless night, and his speech was just as important for them.
Galenos stood before his assembled Storm Petrels to give them one last stirring speech. He stood before them, and after a single salute, the mercenaries all stood at silent attention, listening and waiting.
He cleared his throat. “Kyratia was once a home to some of you.” His gaze swept the crowd. “I know the love you bear for your home. And if you grew up in the country around here, the city represented the hope and the pride of our land, the shining jewel of all that we worked for together.” Many in the crowd raised their fists and cheered, and he smiled back at them. “There is nothing wrong with your pride.
“But for those of you who came from farther away, Kyratia was a hostile place.” His expression turned dark. “She gave you no opportunities to share in her prosperity and she left you to sleep in the gutter.”
Varranor caught his eye with a frown. They had both slept in the gutter before, a time that neither of them wanted to remember.
Galenos clasped his hand over his heart. “I know what all of you feel, for I have been welcomed into Kyratia with one hand and turned away with the other. I have spent many years working for her glory and shared in the pride of her success, yet I also know that I am not accepted as a full citizen of Kyratia. I love this city for the hope that it represents even as I hate her hypocrisy against her people.”
Soldiers began to nod in answer, and more than a few murmured angry responses. They felt the same sting of rejection.
Galenos raised his fist into the air. “Now the city has closed her gates to all of us. We will force them open again. And when we take the city, we will make her into a home for every one of us!”
Now all of the assembled mercenaries raised their fists, and a roar of anger and approval echoed through the air.
Varranor stepped forward and raised both hands. “To our future Duke Galenos!”
The crowd took up the cheer. “Duke Galenos!”
Galenos spoke out of the side of his mouth at his brother. “You didn’t have to bring that up.”
Varranor leaned closer and said in a low voice, “It’s what we’re working for, isn’t it?” He turned to the crowd and yelled, “Long live the duke!”
“Long live the duke!” they yelled back.
Varranor grinned. “Get used to hearing it.”
Galenos stepped off of the stage after the cheering had finally died down and went out to the field where the marewings waited. The riders followed him and went to their mounts, making the final adjustments of tack and weapons.
He looked up at the sky, where the sun had all but disappeared below the horizon and darkness was already creeping in. He looked over at his brother. “Are we ready?”
Varranor gave him a cheeky salute. “Ready, sir!”
The other commanding officers were signaling him from where they stood with their own units. Galenos took a deep breath. “Then this is it.” He raised his voice. “Prepare for launch!”
As he put on his gloves and checked Nightshade’s saddle girth a final time, he thought about his promise to bring Korinna on the final assault, and how he was breaking that promise by leaving all of the newest riders behind. Even though Navera had cleared them for combat, he felt better about keeping them out of harm’s way. Everything he’d worked for could be jeopardized if something happened to her in the battle.
Nightshade turned her head and nipped at his arm, just hard enough to get his attention. He patted her and swung himself up into the saddle. “You’re right, girl, let’s focus on the battle at hand.” He would get himself killed if he wasted time worrying about just one of his soldiers.
The other riders mounted with practiced efficiency. When he saw that they were ready, he gave his signal to the commanders and then passed it on to his own unit. He would take the lead in the assault. His riders maneuvered their mounts onto the track and set them at a run.
The marewings picked up speed and launched themselves into the air.
Galenos felt Nightshade jump beneath him with an extra spring in her step. She was grateful for the time he had given her to rest and recover, but now she was bored with the inactivity and eager for action. Her ears swiveled from side to side as if sensing hidden enemies already and her nose lifted to sniff the air.
He laid a hand on the side of her neck. “Easy, girl, there’s a little way to go before then. Let’s just glide for now.”
When he looked down, he saw the other units preparing for their launches in turn. They had their orders now and they would follow them under the guidance of their commanders. All he had to control now was his own unit of sixteen riders, since his voice couldn’t carry far in the air. Even with hand signals, communication across large distances in the air was unreliable, so units had to function independently.
He turned Nightshade’s head southwest toward the capital and gave her the lead. Beside her, the other marewings stretched their wings and prepared for a long glide. With the sun out of the sky, thermals would be rising from the ground as it cooled, and the marewings could catch an easy ride down to the coast.
As he eased into the routine of the flight, his mind drifted away again from his role in the upcoming fight. He’d been in so many battles before, he knew what he had to do, and his body would follow almost automatically. Nothing could stop him now.
40
The Council X
Eutychon fled to the Temple of Varula to seek the guidance of the priest. His alliance was falling apart, and he didn’t know where else to turn.
The Temple was packed with visitors. Leaving his shoes in the foyer, Eutychon had to force his way in through the crowds, most of whom failed to notice his station. Even in his hurry, he couldn’t help but notice that many in the crowds were swaying back and forth.
In the main hall, musicians played hymns to Varula, but he didn’t stop to observe the ritual. He needed to find the head priest.
Thick vines covered the ground, almost tripping him when he pushed through the crowd, and more hung from the trees, reaching out to grab him as he passed. When had the grove become so overgrown? He knew that the gardeners weren’t supposed to prune the wild grove, but this was ridiculous. He could barely walk in here.
Then, while circling around the central clearing of the altar, he caught sight of Varula Soma.
The priest lifted his hands in the air, swaying back and forth. The th
rong of people followed his lead, dancing to the music without a thought.
Eutychon stopped and put his hand to his mouth, willing the sight to go away. But the priest danced on, lost in the thralls of choreomania. Now it was too late.
Eutychon pounded on the door of Pelagia’s house. He stepped back and peered in the windows. A servant or someone should be there to answer. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Open up, it’s urgent!”
He stepped up to the door again and raised his fist to pound a fourth time, and at last the door swung open.
A sleepy-eyed servant stared back at him. “Sir, I’m afraid the house is closed for the evening. The Councilor and her husband are unavailable.”
Eutychon leaned into the servant’s face. “Tell her it’s too late to hide. I need to talk to her right now.”
The servant bowed and closed the door.
Eutychon growled and stepped back to view the front of the house again. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll bring the guards to break the door down!”
The door opened a second time, revealing Pelagia. Her face was red with fury. “What do you mean by causing a scene outside of my home like this? I was about to have supper with my family!”
Eutychon fell to his knees. “Please, madam, it is urgent. Terrible things are happening.”
She took a step back and beckoned him in the doorway. “Then stop shouting and come inside to tell me. The entire street does not need to know about this.”
He got back to his feet, swaying slightly, and stepped inside. He collapsed into the first empty chair in the foyer. “There is no one left to hear me shout. Half of the families in the neighborhood are afflicted, and the other half are on the docks, trying to get a ship out of the city.”
A Flight of Marewings Page 32
