Neno looked quite different now than when he had been brought to the residence. Gone was the long black robe, and in its place was a handsome waistcoat over a shirt, with tight fitting trousers tucked into shiny boots. He had shaved, and slicked his hair back. Gone was the preacher, the leader of the devout. Now, he looked like just another wealthy man. Alana wondered which he really was deep inside. Had he really committed his soul to Arloth, or was this just a diversion of someone who had inherited too much? After all, if he was devout then shouldn’t he have given up his worldly possessions like members of the priesthood do? Neno did not betray the slightest hint of anxiety about what he was intending to communicate to the Assembly. Confidence in his god or confidence in the privilege afforded him by his status, she wasn’t sure.
The leader of the Devoted gestured for them to follow and Estafo escorted them all down a long, alabaster corridor to a set of double doors, which he opened and beckoned them through. Alana entered a round chamber, the fading sun shining through tall lead-lined windows around roughly half of the circle. Banks of wooden desks and benches stretched around three quarters of the room in two tiers, and to her right as she entered was a lectern, behind which stood one person. The Speaker. On each of the banks of benches were twelve men, most with the white hair of advanced years but there were a few who were younger; one even appeared to be in his teens. Alana once more questioned whether she had been the right person chosen for this mission; this was such a male dominated place that she wondered if her words would be discounted as soon as they left her mouth.
A man not much older than Neno, by his actions he must have been Langit, stepped down to the floor of the chamber and shook the preacher’s hand. There were questioning looks on the faces of the Assembly members.
“Langit,” growled the Speaker. “We have made time for your request. Of course we are interested in any knowledge of the Devoted and how they can be stopped. But I did not expect to see the Ambassador of Edland here.”
Before Langit could speak, Neno answered. “My lord. I am here because of Ambassador Narring. We have information to impart. Together.”
The Speaker grumbled inaudibly under his breath before he turned to face Alana. “I suggest you get on with it, then.”
Alana took a deep breath in an attempt to steel herself. The Assembly chamber reminded her of the place where she and Mareth had met the guilds during the election. That meeting did not go so well. She could not afford for this to have the same result. She turned to look for reassurance from Dolph and Fin, who both nodded. Dolph even gave her a fleeting wink as Fin switched her attention back to the Speaker. Alana turned to face the Assembly, hoping for a more welcoming audience than she knew the Speaker would give her.
“Thank you for your invitation today. Edland has great respect for our friends in Ioth. We treated the terrible attack on your celebrations five nights past as seriously as an attack on ourselves.” There were grumbles from some of the older gentlemen, but Alana plowed on. “We care about Ioth, and while you have been seeking those who are responsible, we have been doing the same.”
“We know who did it,” barked the Speaker. “The damned Devoted have taken to murder. Blasphemy against Arloth.”
“I believe that it wasn’t the Devoted who were responsible. That others instead orchestrated it.” There were gasps from a couple of the younger members.
“What is your proof?” an older assemblyman asked calmly from his vantage point by a window.
“I can swear she tells the truth,” interrupted Neno. All eyes turned to him. He stepped forward, that same confidence undimmed. “All of you know me, or you knew my father. But what you don’t know is that I am the Shep’d of the Devoted.” The Assembly erupted in calls of anger and confusion, but Neno talked over them all. “I founded the Devoted. I provide the monies to feed the poor souls who I now call my flock. I hand selected all the preachers personally. And what is more, I know my congregation, and there is not one person there who would harm a living soul. Some of them may have made mistakes in the past but all now live in the golden light of Arloth. We did not do this terrible act. I had faith that you would see the error in your initial apportionment of blame, but I was wrong. Please, I beg you, do not harm my people.”
“Minardi. You swear that you are responsible for the Devoted?” asked the Speaker, leaning over his desk as he peered intently at the man.
Neno nodded. “I do, your honor.”
“Then you are a murderer!” snarled the Speaker. “Guards. Arrest him and take him to the Cage.”
Two armored soldiers stepped out from the side of the chamber and took hold of Neno by the arms. He did not flinch or move away.
“Leave him alone! He is innocent,” demanded Alana.
“It will be alright,” said Neno as the guards marched him past her and toward the door. “I knew full well this might happen.”
Once he was gone, the Speaker spoke again. “It seems we have you to thank, Ambassador Narring, for finding the man we have been looking for.”
She turned on him, feeling her heart pounding. This was not going the way she had hoped. “You don’t have me to thank for anything,” she spat. “That man you’ve just had taken away is innocent and whoever did attack you is still out there.” She turned to look at the men around the room. “The people who killed your fellow members are still out there.”
“You should consider your words before I take them as indicators that you were an accomplice to Minardi,” said the Speaker.
Alana’s face flushed with anger. “You wouldn’t dare arrest me. You know what that would mean when news got back to Edland. Pyrfew has you all gold-blind. There’s a foreign fleet surrounding you. An army swimming distance away from this very building. Listen to my words. Pyrfew does not do alliances. Ask the countries that don’t exist anymore, that are just part of Llewdon’s empire. Ask the people of Redpool who have lived under the threat of war for more than century. Wake up!” The words tumbled out of her without even considering what they were before she let them loose into this room of blind fools.
The Speaker’s face turned into a snarl, lips baring to show his yellowed teeth. “You need to leave, young lady. Go home to Edland. We have no need of you here.”
Alana looked over to her friends, unsure whether she should depart with a modicum of respect even though she would have to go home and tell Mareth that she had failed. Dolph met her gaze but remained impassive. Fin didn’t even look her way. She was staring intently at the Speaker and toying with the clasp on her bag.
“Wait,” said the Assembly member who had demanded proof moments before. “I find it odd that a guilty man would present himself to us. Or that the Ambassador would not try to turn it to her advantage. I have questions.”
Alana spun on her heel to face her temporary savior. “Please, ask away. I will try my best to answer any questions you have.”
He spent the next few minutes interrogating her over a number of matters, while the other Assembly members lounged back in their seats, regarding her in silent appraisal, all the time sensing the eyes of the Speaker burning into her back. How had she discovered Minardi? She has a number of able retainers skilled in such matters. Was it true that she fought against the attackers at the ball? Yes, she defended herself but the Admiral Crews and her attendant Dolph did much to secure her safety. What evidence do you have that Pyrfew was behind this? She paused before answering this question. How much to reveal?
“I have no hard evidence that they were behind the attack,” she said. The news was greeted with a succession of head shakes and grumbles. She quickly plowed on. “But Edland has other agents that have been seeking to understand what Pyrfew is up to, and they have discovered that the empire wants something from the Church of Arloth and Ioth, and it’s not just ships. It is true that the empire does not typically barter for what it needs, it simply takes. I cannot say with absolute certainty that the attack on the ball was part of Pyrfew’s plan, but is it not true that tho
se of your own Assembly who died were those who had been questioning this business relationship you have entered into with the empire?”
“That is true,” said the questioner. “Though I myself have challenged it at times, and I still sit here.”
“Were you at the celebration?”
“Gods, no. I hate the bloody things.”
“This is going nowhere,” said the Speaker. “She has no evidence.”
Alana cast a quick look at the man who had been impeccable when they last met, but who was now noticeably irritated. “I think it would make sense to question who had most to gain by the attack. I don’t think the attack helped the Devoted’s cause. They don’t celebrate martyrs.”
Her questioner now switched his attention to the Speaker. “I think we should deliberate on this more. In private.”
She realized she was about to be dismissed for real this time, and all she could do was hope that she had planted enough seeds on this hard ground that something might bloom. But then, she got the evidence she needed in a most unwelcome fashion.
Muted screams came from the doorway, and everyone looked around at each other in confusion. Clashes of steel on steel followed and the two remaining guards rushed past Alana to the doorway and flung it open. She peered past them down the corridor to see the green and gold armor of Pyrfew soldiers striding toward them. Dolph grabbed her arm and pulled her to the other side of the room, away from the imminent visitors.
The two Ioth guards looked uncertain at what to do in the face of the twenty or so men that were approaching them with swords in hand. Behind the front rank of three Pyrfew soldiers, Alana could see a tall man, dressed in a long overcoat the color of dark moss, and on his broad shoulders perched a brown speckled eagle. The Speaker looked momentarily surprised but he called out to the guardsmen to allow the Pyrfew soldiers to enter.
Not that they needed permission, as the front rank of soldiers took the opportunity to thrust their blades into the unwary midriffs of the guards. The assemblymen collectively cried in outrage and the sound of chairs scraping on stone echoed in her ears as they scrambled to their feet. The Pyrfew soldiers quickly filed into the room. She saw Fin alone by the Speaker on the other side of the room, pushing herself back against the wall, one hand now in her satchel and her face contorted in indecision.
“Take them all,” said the birdman. The Speaker smirked, but the birdman pointed a finger in his direction. “Him too.”
The Speaker babbled incoherently, but Alana was too preoccupied with the soldiers coming for her and Dolph. Dolph did not draw his sword, and she didn’t blame him. What could one man do against all of them? She held up her hands in surrender as a Pyrfew soldier grabbed her at the elbow. Then a grunt and the clatter of armor hitting the floor drew her attention to the other side of the room.
Fin had struck the one who came for her, taking him by surprise. Her assassin bodyguard took one last sorrowful look at Alana, and then leaped forward in blistering speed. She felled another soldier with a chop of her hand to his throat, clearing her way to the banks of benches and desks. She jumped onto one, evading the swing of a soldier’s blade, before bounding confidently onto the next tier. With one final leap, she cleared the head of an old Assembly member who clutched at his chest, and smashed through the leaded panes of glass—out into the early Iothan evening.
Chapter 41
Breaking the Cage
They’d found Florian across the bridge from the Isle of the Sanctum, the byproduct of forcible ejection, putting his clothes back on. He had a cut mouth and a few bruises already coming through on his bare chest, but overall Motega thought that he’d gotten away quite lightly. If he knew Florian, a light kicking was probably just what he needed to get the blood pumping in the morning, though he was a little concerned about how close some of the blows were to the wound in his side.
“How did it go?” asked Florian as he pulled his shirt over his head.
Motega shrugged. Trypp replied, “Fine, I guess. Not sure the kid is going to listen to us, but we did what Alana asked.”
“Well, at least it was a little excitement,” said Florian, and Motega could only agree. He’d been spending too much time waiting for something to happen.
They went back to the Ambassador’s residence but swung by Atarah’s Hearth on the way. They settled up the bill and took the rest of their belongings with them, Trypp—ever their financial advisor—couldn’t see the point in wasting coin when they had basically moved in with Alana and Crews; even though Mareth had promised to cover their expenses.
The residence was quiet when they returned. Crews was sketching boats of some kind at the long dining room table; boredom was clearly taking its toll on him too. Before long it was lunch, and the staff produced a feast of bread and cheese along with a few cups of ale. Florian invited the remaining members of the Ravens to join them, and for a while there was lively banter and good conversation about various scrapes that they had all found themselves in at one time or another. An unsurprising number seemed to take place in bars and were related to sex.
Once lunch was finished, the afternoon returned to a slow crawl. They all resolved to spend some time maintaining their equipment, and as usual Florian looked downright excited to be able to give his swords a going over with a whetstone. There was still no sign of Alana as the afternoon disappeared. Motega and Trypp decided to leave Florian with his blades and went out to the balcony overlooking the grand canal to see what was going on in the city.
The sun was getting close to its watery berth to the west and the good citizens were upping their preparations for the evening festivities. People had brought chairs out onto the water side, and many were drinking wine from the bottle. The smell of meats grilling on open braziers wafted up to where they looked down, making Motega’s mouth water though it had not been that long since he last ate.
“It occurs to me,” mused Trypp, “that ambassadorial missions are not that much safer than our usual jobs. I did imagine there to be a lot more wining and dining involved, maybe even with silver platters of chocolate balls.”
Motega chuckled at the thought that maybe they had got what Trypp had been wanting in that inn in Kingshold. “I guess we are not actually the ambassadors. That could be the difference.” Trypp nodded his agreement. “Really though, I don’t think we’re ever going to have the quiet life. I’m not sure if we’re drawn to trouble or if it’s the other way around, but I think that you’d hate settling down somewhere. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”
Trypp looked out across the city and shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. But one day, I hope we deserve to live in some peace.”
Motega put his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “One day. But you should know, once we get back to Kingshold, we’ve got to go to my home, to help my people. Will you come?”
“Is the pay going to be good?”
“Piss poor I expect.”
Trypp coughed a laugh and looked at him. “I’ll be there. And I’m sure the big lummox will be too.” Motega blew out a long breath, not realizing how much that had been bothering him. It did him good to know his friends would stand with him.
And so they passed a good while more on the balcony, watching with vicarious joy the goings-on of the people who didn’t know or didn’t care about the politics of the city. Motega almost forgot it all himself, wishing he could go and enjoy the city-wide party, but occasionally he spotted squads of Pyrfew soldiers walking the streets across the grand canal from them, or traveling along the waterway in their green leaf-boats, all the while going unmolested by the Ioth guards.
Trypp nudged him with his elbow to draw his attention away from a particularly drunk young man stumbling along the canal-side, and gestured to a woman rushing through the crowd that had begun to line the nearest bridge. He wondered what she was running to, or running away from, only to follow her progress on the north bank all the way up to their front door.
“It’s Fin. Alone,” said Trypp, already d
ashing off the balcony and back down to the ground floor. Motega chased after him.
They made it to the foyer just as Joe opened the front door. Her dress was ragged and her face and arms were covered in small cuts, the blood already dried.
“What the fuck?” was all Motega managed to say.
“Pyrfew soldiers. They came and arrested everyone.”
“Alana and Dolph?” asked Trypp, the peace of moments before gone in an instant.
“Everyone. All the members of the Assembly too. Including the Speaker. It looked like he was in on it, but they double crossed him.” Fin spoke between panting; she must have run the whole way back.
“How did you get out? Where’s Morris?” asked Florian, who had walked in with Crews and heard the whole story.
“I jumped out the window. And I don’t know. They’ve probably got him too. There was roughly a score that came into the Assembly chambers but who knows how many more were inside the building.” She paused to wipe away a trickle of blood from her forehead. “There were a few outside, and a few hanging around the Cage, but people were in the plaza carrying on like they didn’t know anything was going on.”
“Fuck!” said Motega, still not sure what to say.
“We need to get them. Do you know where they have been taken?” asked Florian.
“Not sure. Probably the Cage judging by the number of soldiers outside. And it’s close to the Assembly building, so it would be easy to move them there, but I can’t say for certain.”
“I think we’ll have to work with that guess,” said Florian. He looked around at the others, expecting there to be concurrence. “Right?”
Motega nodded eventually. He couldn’t fault his friend’s intention, he wanted to rescue Alana and everyone else too, but the thought of breaking into the city jail was hardly on his list of things to do in Ioth.
Ioth, City of Lights Page 42
