There were several other ships already berthed around the edges with a few others at anchor away from the wall, apparently awaiting a berth. The barge towed the Haven of Couatl directly towards a vacant berth.
Slave knew very little about ships and sailing, but even he could appreciate the skill of the barge captain as he called the orders that left the Haven of Couatl adrift with just the right amount of speed and in just the right direction to set her gently bumping against the wall as she came to a halt at her berth. Soldiers ran lightly down the stairs, pikes ready, and held defensive position halfway down. Overhead, a creaking alerted Slave to the movement of a crane. It swung around, holding a large platform out over the edge. The platform was lowered with surprising speed.
The heavy wooden platform was easily big enough to act as a landing or dock. It would also serve as a convenient way of shifting cargo or crew up from the ship. As the platform came lower, Slave saw there was a man standing in the middle of it. He was unarmed, wearing a robe of brilliant red over a tunic of orange and trousers of bright green. His boots looked like they were made of yellow leather that shone in the fading sunlight. Perched atop his head was a broad-brimmed hat of blue. Rising proudly from the right side of the hat was a white feather of even greater magnificence than that adorning the barge captain’s hat.
The man stood motionless until the platform came to a complete halt on the outside of the ship rather than the dock side.
With the dock now still and level with the Haven of Couatl’s upper deck, the man stepped over the railings and onto the ship without seeking permission from the captain, as was customary. If this rankled Iskopra, he did not show it as he approached the visitor. Stalking closely behind her captain, Quetzalxoitl’s every gesture, every movement, screamed anger. As Slave considered the weapons trained on them from above and the armed men staring at them from the steps, he hoped she could manage to keep her anger contained.
‘Unburden your purpose for visiting our noble city to me,’ the brightly clad man pronounced.
‘We seek audience with the Georgiades,’ Iskopra replied.
‘All the world seeks the Georgiades’s wisdom.’
‘Not so much these days, though, do they?’ Quetzalxoitl said waspishly.
The colourful man blinked in surprise at her words, as if no one had ever dared be so rude. The Queen followed up her words by advancing on him.
‘I know you recognise my standard,’ she said, gesturing up to where the purple, red and gold flag hung limply from the mast. ‘So you know who I am, and why I am here.’
‘How can I possibly know why you are here?’
‘You are a learned man — you are the Photio, the Learned One of Asnuevium. You know the state of the world and why the Blindfolded Queen would have left her Hidden City and brought her agents and the Tulugma to Apros. Go and tell the Georgiades that I am here, seeking his wisdom.’
‘Stay here and await the pleasure of the Georgiades,’ the Photio intoned pompously. Having spoken, he stepped back over the railings, onto the suspended platform.
Iskopra bowed extravagantly as the Photio gave a gesture to the men waiting above. With a grinding and a creaking of rope, the platform was raised once more to the top of the wall.
Slave leaned in close to Keshik and whispered, ‘How would you take this city?’
‘By treachery,’ Keshik muttered in reply. ‘It would cost too many lives any other way.’
‘And if you had a vast army who did not care about casualties?’ Slave added.
Keshik considered this. ‘You are talking about an army like the Revenant’s?’
Slave nodded. ‘Like that, but bigger and controlled.’
‘You think Kielevinenrohkimainen could try to take this place?’
‘If what the Elbar says is right, it has already taken Leserlang to gain knowledge — this is the logical place to come next.’
‘Why hasn’t it come here already?’
‘Hasn’t it? What about that fleet out there?’ Slave asked, pointing back out to the Silvered Sea.
‘A blockade?’
‘Possibly. It would explain why they let us pass after their attempt to lure us away.’
‘More mouths to feed?’
‘More mouths to feed,’ Slave agreed.
‘So we’ve managed to trap ourselves here?’
‘I think so, but let’s wait and see before we say anything.’
‘So where’s the huge army then?’
‘It would have to be land-based. You could not take this city from the seaward side. I’d guess the army is marching here, probably getting bigger every day they march, just like the Revenant’s army.’
‘The blockade? What’s that all about?’
‘To keep the inhabitants in, and allow extra mouths to feed, rather than keeping anyone out.’
‘Which allows for the treachery,’ Keshik said.
‘Add treachery to a two-pronged attack from a massive army that cares nothing for casualties, after a prolonged siege …’ Slave let his voice trail away, allowing Keshik to complete the thought.
‘You have a very bad situation if you happen to be —’ Keshik gave a rueful grin ‘— exactly where we are now.’
‘We should keep alert,’ Slave said, ‘and spread the word among the Tulugma to pay attention to anything they see that looks suspicious.’
A footfall made them both turn quickly to see Zhan Tien approaching them.
‘What are you plotting to take from me this time?’ he growled.
Slave did not answer which seemed to be taken as an affront by Zhan Tien, who breathed heavily through his nose, causing his nostrils to flare like a bull about to charge.
‘I asked you a question,’ he repeated in a voice that sounded like he could barely maintain control.
Slave wondered how a man so lacking in self-control and discipline could ever achieve a position of leadership among warriors. He tilted his head to one side and regarded the Ogedei of the Tulugma. As he did so, Zhan Tien took another deep breath and calmed himself. The change was immediate and complete. The redness in his face faded, his breathing slowed and his eyes lost their anger. Slave thought he might have to reconsider his assessment. Perhaps the man had discipline after all.
‘We were talking about our position here,’ Keshik said.
‘I’d say we were in trouble,’ Zhan Tien said.
‘Once the rest of the fleet is dragged in here, I’d say we’ve brought a mixed blessing on the Georgiades of Asnuevium,’ Keshik went on.
‘Warriors who need feeding,’ Zhan Tien summed the situation up succinctly. He turned, as did Slave and Keshik, as Iskopra approached them.
‘Did you notice the lack of fishing vessels?’ Iskopra asked quietly.
Keshik and Zhan Tien did not hide their surprise at Iskopra’s question. They both shook their heads.
‘This is a sea coast city, known for its fishing and sea trade. Look around: do you see any fishing boats or full trade ships here?’ When Keshik and Zhan Tien narrowed their eyes, Iskopra went on. ‘I’d say that fleet out there has sunk every fishing boat and stopped all trade. Look at those trader ships, see how high they are floating in the water? They’re all empty.’
The Haven of Couatl rocked from the wash as the next few ships of the Blindfolded Queen’s fleet were towed into the huge circular pond.
‘And with every ship, we’re bringing in more problems,’ Zhan Tien added.
‘Not to mention every ship has a full load of the finest warriors the world has ever seen,’ Keshik said.
Iskopra’s face brightened. ‘I love complicated, don’t you?’
‘Not when it gets us all killed,’ Keshik growled.
‘Ice and wind,’ Zhan Tien spat. He looked up at where the portable dock had been retracted and the Photio had disappeared from sight.
‘Do you know the kind of manoeuvring that goes on to gain that position?’ Iskopra said with a strange hint of whimsy in his voice. ‘It’s the mos
t sought-after role in the city. People literally kill and die to be allowed to wear that ridiculous outfit in public.’
Keshik stifled a snort of laughter as he looked up. ‘That’s a uniform? I thought he’d lost a bet.’
‘Oh, no,’ Iskopra said with a smile. ‘Around here, the stupider the clothes, the higher ranked you are. Wait until you meet the Georgiades. Now that is a silly outfit.’
Slave had nothing to add to the conversation, so he contented himself with looking around at the ships at anchor, the armed men keeping watch and the movement of the towing barges. The talk behind him continued for a while as Iskopra regaled Zhan Tien and Keshik with outlandish tales of absurd behaviours, then petered out. Slave had not found the Photio’s clothes noteworthy and again was wondering about his ongoing lack of ability to discern some social situations. What was so funny about the clothes? How were they any different, any more worthy of comment, than Iskopra’s own blue agent’s uniform?
The dock was lowered again soon after dark, when all the Blindfolded Queen’s ships were at anchor in the strange inland lake. Moments before the dock started to move, there was a loud, booming sound like an enormous horn being blown, followed by a great rattling and then a series of splashes coming from down the tunnel. Slave guessed the gates had been lowered, effectively sealing the tunnel, both protecting the city from infiltration, and preventing any ships from leaving.
When the dock was steady alongside the ship, the Photio stepped aboard, still clad in his garish uniform. The Queen, Iskopra and the Ogedei were standing waiting for him. Before they had a chance to speak, the Photio made his pronouncement.
‘The Georgiades consents to meet with you to discuss your unseemly request.’
‘And my fleet?’ the Queen asked. ‘Can we disembark?’
‘In the morning, Queen Quetzalxoitl.’ Despite his apparent respect and deferential attitude, he mispronounced her name badly, making it sound more like ‘Kwetsilkwottee’. It was so far from the correct form that Slave wondered if it were deliberate.
No matter — she did not respond other than following Iskopra and Zhan Tien onto the mobile dock. When they were standing together in the middle, the dock started to rise as the cranes overhead cranked into action. They rose into the torchlight. Slave watched them until they vanished.
‘I have Habigga on board,’ Keshik said softly.
‘What?’
‘I have Habigga that can come with you.’
Slave frowned at Keshik, annoyed that his plan could be so transparent.
‘Are they good enough to climb that?’ Slave indicated the sheer wall.
‘If they’re not, they’ll die trying.’
‘How long will it take you to get ready?’
Keshik grinned. ‘Not long.’
‘I’ll meet you at the top,’ Slave said. He moved on silent feet across the deck to the railing by the wall where he paused by one of the guttering torches that illuminated it. He quickly extinguished the flame and gathered a handful of soot, smearing the black powder through his fair hair. Now completely darkened, he was about to jump over the railing when Myrrhini called out to him. Slave stopped, but did not turn to face her. ‘What do you want?’ he asked softly.
‘Where are you going?’
Slave pointed up.
‘I am coming with you.’
Slave shook his head, still not looking at her, before leaping off the ship to land, arms and legs outstretched, on the wall. For a heartbeat, he scrabbled for something to grip, but his fingers then his toes found hold. He started to climb.
The wall was ancient and riddled with cracks and chips, although still solid. Climbing was physically hard, but technically straightforward. Slave was over halfway up, his heart pounding and sweat pouring from his skin despite the cool of the night, when the sound of others climbing reached his ears.
‘Ice and wind, they’re loud,’ he muttered.
Apparently no one else thought so as there was no movement from the guards, no shouts, no increase in the number of torches gathered above the Haven of Couatl. Slave continued. His fingers were bleeding and his feet were starting to cramp, but there was not far to go. He reached up to find a finger hold, then froze at the sound of a brief scuffle, a knife slicing through flesh, a strangled grunt, a body falling to the ground. Slave looked up to see Myrrhini’s face peering over the edge.
‘Coming?’ she asked.
With a redoubled effort, Slave urged himself up and over the top of the wall. He lay flat for a moment, catching his breath before forcing himself onto his feet. Myrrhini was still holding a knife, standing over the man she had killed. Slave looked around, checking for other guards. This man had been on a patrol. He would be missed in moments, raising an alarm that would inevitably find and kill the Tulugma slowly making their way up the dark wall. The dead guard could not be found here.
Slave heaved the body up onto his shoulder and ran away from the edge of the wall. Fortunately, he had chosen his climb well and this area of the wall was not brightly lit. The torches nearby sent inconstant light across the various weapons aimed down into the harbour, creating shadows that danced and wavered, helping Slave move unseen. He dropped the guard’s body behind a pile of rocks stacked in preparation for an attack. Only after he was confident the body would not be found quickly did he round on Myrrhini.
‘What are you doing here?’ he hissed.
‘I told you I was coming with you.’ She was dressed head to foot in black: a simple outfit that looked like a long-sleeved tunic that hung to halfway down her shins. She wore black gloves and long black boots. Her planning extended even to having smeared something on her face and throat to darken her pale skin. Her hair was tied back tightly with a leather thong and from a belt around her waist hung two sheathed daggers. As she held Slave’s stare, her expression was defiant, but her stance was uncertain.
‘How?’
‘Like this.’ Myrrhini closed her eyes for a moment before she rose from the ground, just a little, and hovered there. She opened her eyes and looked down on Slave. ‘I can do this whenever I like now.’
‘How?’
‘I have no idea. I just do it.’
The sounds of Keshik’s Tulugma reaching the top of the wall forestalled anything he was about to say. He ran past Myrrhini. The ground was solid stone, large flat slabs that fitted together flawlessly. Even as he ran, he marvelled at the workmanship.
‘Keshik,’ he hissed when within earshot. ‘You coming?’
The Tulugma all turned to face him. As he started in the direction of the city, they rose as one and ran after him.
27
Asnuevium was an ancient city. Old in a way that made Leserlang seem a brash upstart. Even in the dark, crouched beside a low wall that ran along the road leading to the main gates, Slave could appreciate the grandeur, the elegant beauty, of the city.
The first surprise was that the sea tunnel ran beneath the width of city, leaving the harbour to the landward side and outside the city walls by at least a thousand paces. The second surprise was the state of the guards. Every one they passed — and there were many on the run to the city walls from the harbour — seemed gaunt, as if exhausted. Dressed in black and running off the road, out of the light, Slave and the Tulugma avoided them easily. Too easily. It was no wonder Myrrhini had been able to surprise and kill one. If they were all like this, the city might well fall with the first attack.
He caught the scent of unwashed people, a great many unwashed people. Poor, hungry people. Living in squalor. The various rank odours of close-quarters poverty filled his nostrils, making him almost gag, but he put it aside to focus on the city before him.
Ahead, the towering walls of Asnuevium were lit by hundreds of glowing spots of light, giving them an ethereal, mystical aspect. The road leading to the closed gate was paved with solid stones, laid with the same skill as the stones that surrounded the harbour. Over the walls, the delicate, brightly coloured spires rose, lit against the night sk
y. Armed guards, resplendent in shining breastplates, orange cloaks, green pantaloons and yellow boots, strode purposefully around the entire city. Their tall pikes, points glinting in the light, were adorned with long ribbons that dangled almost to the soldiers’ shoulders. Each troop of soldiers had ribbons of matching colours, for easy identification.
Before the gate itself was a pond, rising from the middle of which was a fountain. Somehow, the spray of water, which rose to a height twice that of a man, was illuminated with colour that shifted from red to yellow to orange then back to red. The sound of cascading water carried clearly over the distance to where the Tulugma and Slave watched in disbelief.
‘Is this place for real?’ Keshik whispered.
Slave did not answer. His mind was focused on the question of getting into the city. It would not be easy, which begged the question of why he would want to. He did not know, but he could not escape the deep conviction that he had to get in without being either observed or invited. He trusted his instincts, so he kept watching for an opportunity.
It was, ironically, the discovery of the man left dead by Myrrhini that afforded them that opportunity.
Shouts carried on the night air as the man’s body was found, followed by the sound of running feet. Lights bobbed along the road from the harbour as guards carried torches back to the city with the news. When they reached the wall, they were met with milling excitement and a whole troop of men ran back to the harbour with them, leaving a gap in the patrols, and fewer torches at the gate itself.
Slave waited until the guards had passed before springing up and running towards the gate. The low wall ran the whole way up to the gate and he ran bent almost double to maximise the cover it afforded. With his very dark skin and his hair darkened by soot, he was almost as black against the night as the Tulugma and Myrrhini.
The gate was huge. Easily ten paces wide and almost as high, it appeared to be a single plank of dark wood. It was ornately carved with inlays of gold and some smooth material that glowed various colours in the reflected torchlight. Like most such gates, it had a small door at the base so that it would not have to be opened for every person passing through. Slave pushed on the door and it opened without a sound. As with many defences, they would allow one to do what an army could not. Beyond the door was darkness and he eased through quickly. He knew that the chances of his not being seen were slim, so he sought out the closest patch of deep shadow and sprinted.
Revenant Page 27