Justice

by Ian Irvine

  “He doesn’t have to do it safely. He only has to keep you alive until the pearl is removed.”

  “Holm could break it deliberately,” said Tali, avoiding Holm’s outraged eye.

  “He’s your dear friend,” said Grandys. “Would he rob you of the chance to achieve your sworn quest for justice? Would he risk my vengeance on everyone you hold dear? I think not.”

  Syrten reappeared, bearing Yulia’s body as tenderly as a newborn infant. Grandys indicated the right-hand marble slab. Syrten laid Yulia there, arranging her head and limbs so she seemed to be sleeping. Tali expected Grandys to mock him for it, but he did not. Grandys stood staring down at Yulia’s body, his face grave.

  “She was the youngest of us,” said Grandys, putting an arm around Syrten’s shoulders. “And the best of us. I will miss her all my days.”

  Syrten choked back a gravelly sob.

  Grandys went to the east side, where he seemed to be assessing the state of the siege. He peered over the south side, above the main door of North Tower, and when he came back to Tali he was smiling.

  “Rixium is staggering back and forth between the tower door and the fortress walls. He’s trying to fight two battles at the same time and he can’t win either. He’s a beaten man.”

  “This is your last gasp,” said Tali dully. She did not believe her own words but she had to keep fighting. “You’re on the edge of the precipice, and once you go over there’s no way back.”

  Grandys laughed in her face. Lirriam, who had been talking to Syrten, looked up sharply, then strolled across.

  “You’ve had a setback at the wall, Grandys.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Syrten would have told you, had you asked.”

  “Syrten?” Grandys said commandingly.

  Syrten turned his red eyes on Grandys, then lumbered across.

  “What’s the state of the siege?” said Grandys.

  “Rixium—mined ground outside—gates,” said Syrten. “Many bombasts. Boom!” He swept his hands up and out, miming a huge explosion. “Eight hundred dead.”

  “Eight hundred!” choked Grandys. “But the siege continues?”

  “Withdrawn. Troops afraid—go near wall.”

  Grandys took several deep breaths. “We still outnumber them, just.” He looked around. “Rufuss, no one can encourage men the way you can. Run underground to the camp and urge them to do their duty in the strongest terms.”

  “Can I decimate them?” Rufuss said eagerly.

  Grandys’ fists closed and opened. “Don’t be a bigger fool than you look,” he said coldly. “I need every man now.”

  Rufuss’s cold face hardened; he stalked down the stairs.

  “What if they won’t do their duty?” said Lirriam.

  “The demonstration I’ve got planned will soon have their morale on the rise.”

  “What kind of a demonstration?” Lirriam said curiously.

  Grandys did not reply. “Prepare your surgical instruments, Holm. Once you have, you’ll find these sketches helpful.” Grandys handed him the rolled sheet of drawings that Yulia had made in Bastion Barr weeks ago.

  Holm studied the drawings. “Are they accurate?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Tali’s life depends on it.”

  “Since Yulia made them, they will be precise to the hundredth part of an inch.”

  Grandys picked Tali up and laid her on the empty slab. Her head was only three feet away from Yulia’s. Lirriam touched Tali on the forehead and the strength drained from her limbs yet again.

  “You can’t move,” said Grandys, “but you’ll still be able to feel pain—a good deal of it, I dare say. That’s regrettable for you, but the pearl must be cut from a conscious host.”

  Beside Tali, Yulia’s dead face radiated despair. “W-what happened to her?” said Tali.

  Grandys did not answer. Tali noted the blistered, bluish lips and the trace of powder clinging in one corner of her mouth.

  “Why did she kill herself?”

  Syrten let out a cry of uttermost anguish and hunched over Yulia, a massive, uncomprehending figure, utterly bereft. “Didn’t kill herself. Yulia—never leave me. Alone. Alone!”

  “Pull yourself together, rock-man,” said Lirriam. “You’ll always have us.”

  “End of Five Heroes.”

  “It’s not,” Grandys said gruffly. “Take him over there, Lirriam. Look after him.”

  It looked like suicide to Tali. What could have made Yulia do it, after going all that way for the Immortal Text? After finally coming so close to the quest that was everything to her?

  “Surgeon Holm,” said Grandys, “begin!”

  “I’ve never done this kind of operation,” said Holm.

  Grandys snatched up a razor-edged chisel and brandished it in his face.

  “If you don’t, I’ll hack it out myself.”

  “That could kill her,” said Holm.

  “I’ll take my chances,” said Grandys, grinning savagely.

  “I’ll need hot water, lots of it.”

  Grandys drew Maloch and plunged it into a water barrel, which boiled in seconds.

  “And freshly laundered towels,” Holm added.

  “The covered basket by the wall is full of them.”

  Holm lifted the lid, then closed it again. “The operation needs to be done indoors, in a scrubbed room. Up here, dirt and dust in the air—”

  “You’re doing it here,” said Grandys. “Now!” He handed Holm a large wooden instrument case with brass corners.

  “These aren’t my instruments,” said Holm.

  “They’re new,” said Grandys. “Never been used. There’s ten times as many instruments as you had—everything you could possibly need. Get started.”

  Holm scowled and opened the case.

  “It’s the only way, Holm,” said Tali. “And… you have no idea how much I want to be rid of the master pearl.”

  He bent over the instruments for a minute, stood up straight and held out his right arm. It had a slight tremor.

  “I’ve operated with worse,” he said. Then Holm added wryly, “Though not successfully.”

  Grandys pulled the canvas off the rectangular object to reveal a large wooden box, closed on all sides, on four metal legs. There was a tiny hole in the middle of the end facing Tali. In other respects the box seemed to be just a box.

  He unscrewed a cap from the right-hand side of the box. In the gloom, a thin beam of light could be seen issuing from inside.

  “It’s a camera obscura,” said Grandys, with a flourish.

  “What the blazes is that?” said Holm.

  “A device of my own invention, to show my army that I hold the master pearl. It’ll give them heart, while Rixium’s exhausted people will see it and despair.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “I’m not seeing anything,” said Tali.

  “You will when I amplify the light beam, thus!”

  Grandys touched the box with the tip of Maloch. At once the beam blazed out so brightly that the slab, and Tali lying on it, was projected onto the wall of the castle immediately below the great copper dome, in an image at least fifty feet long and forty feet high. It would have been visible for miles.

  She stared at herself lying there. She could see every detail of her face, yet it seemed remote; it was her, yet not her.

  Grandys bent over his little, ice-covered chest. The ice chest—she had not realised he had brought it here. He unlocked it, took out the empty phial and held it up. She could see her name on the label.

  Thalalie vi Torgrist.

  “What do you want it for?” said Tali. “Is it for my healing blood?”

  But if it was, why only take one phial? Why not take all of it?

  “Let the bloodshed begin,” said Grandys.

  CHAPTER 73

  Rix, back in the yard with his battering-ram crew, watched the projected image on the wall as Tali’s head was shaved—once again—washed and d
ried. After an interminable wait, Holm raised his scalpel and prepared to make the first cut.

  Rix reached out blindly and took Glynnie’s cold hand in his own sweating hand. High above, Holm looked around, wild-eyed, as if he had never wanted a drink more. His hand shook. He put the scalpel down and his lips moved.

  “What did he say?” said Rix. “Can you read his lips?”

  “He said, ‘I can’t do it’,” said Glynnie. “And Grandys said, ‘Cut! Or I’ll cut for you.’ ”

  “Holm’s afraid he’ll botch it and kill her.”

  “She’ll probably die even if he doesn’t botch it. The master pearl is like the thinnest, most brittle eggshell now, and if it breaks before Holm gets it out, Tali dies.”

  “You said you were going to kill her,” said a small voice behind her. Benn.

  “I didn’t mean it,” said Glynnie. “Not really. I wouldn’t wish that operation on anyone. Off you go, Benn. You don’t need to see this.”

  “I have to see everything!” cried Benn. “I have to know what the enemy are doing to us.”

  When Holm made the first cut, Tali screamed so loudly that she could have been heard on the other side of the fortress.

  “You’ve got to save her, Rix,” Benn said desperately.

  “I know,” said Rix. “But I can’t get in, lad.”

  “Can’t you blast the door again?”

  “I don’t have any more bombasts.”

  Tali let out another scream, more terrible than the first.

  Benn jumped. “You’ve got to do something.”

  The battering-ram crew were almost ready, though Rix had no more hope that they would succeed this time. Grandys’ men had blocked the doorway with stone which Lirriam had reinforced with magery.

  Holm made another cut. Tali let out a third scream. It was fainter now; weaker, and that was not a good sign. She had been incredibly strong and resilient when Rix first met her; she had been able to endure almost any physical and mental torment. But both the strength and the resilience were long gone and he did not think she could take any more. She might simply slip from this world, as Yulia had done.

  Rix ran to the ram, took hold of it and urged his men on. They went forward at a fast walk, gathering to a trot as they climbed the sloping ramp they had laid over the steps, and the ram hit the stone.

  The shock jarred him all the way to the top of his skull. It must have jarred everyone, for he felt the ram falling at the rear. Rix tried to hold the weight by himself, realised that was folly and let go. The ram hit the ground and he heard the sickening crack of breaking bones, followed by a shriek.

  One of the men at the back, a tall, slender fellow, had held on too long, slipped and the ram had fallen across his thighs. Both legs were broken.

  “Get it off him,” Rix yelled, running that way.

  They heaved the ram off. Someone fetched a wide plank and they worked it under the injured man. Rix strapped him down and sent him to the healery. Glynnie followed, looking back over her shoulder at the scene projected on the wall.

  Blood covered the end of Tali’s marble slab—an enormous amount of blood. Holm’s hands were covered in it and so was the top of Tali’s head. Her eyes were huge and staring, her mouth wide, though she had stopped screaming. Rix turned away—he could not bear to see what was being done to her. She had done so much for him; and given so much for his country.

  A lad came running. It was young Thom, the wood boy.

  “Lord Deadhand?” Thom’s gaze fixed on the image from the camera obscura and he froze.

  “Yes, Thom?” said Rix. “What’s the news from the wall?”

  “Nuddell says the Herovians are attacking with everything they have, led by Rufuss. Nuddell ain’t sure he can hold them.”

  “I’d better go,” said Rix.

  “You can’t leave Tali,” cried Benn.

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t want us to witness her agony,” said Rix. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “But Tali came to my rescue. I can’t abandon her, not while there’s any hope.”

  “All right; I need a watchman here anyway. If the Heroes break out of North Tower I’ve got to know instantly.”

  “Yes, Rix,” said Benn.

  “Or if anything happens with… with Tali.”

  “Yes, Rix.”

  “Stay with the battering-ram crew. Don’t go wandering off.”

  “No, Rix.”

  Rix headed to the defensive wall with Thom.

  “Things are bad, Lord Deadhand, aren’t they?” Thom said soberly.

  Previously, Thom had shown an unshakeable belief that they would beat the enemy, because they had right on their side.

  “They’re very bad, Thom, but we’re not beaten yet.”

  “Are we going to lose? Is Axil Grandys going to kill us all?”

  Rix considered the question. If… when Grandys got Tali’s master pearl, he would be able to command the other pearls and draw on the power of all five. None of their lives would matter any more and he would either kill everyone out of hand or, if he were in a particularly cruel and vengeful mood, hold certain people prisoner so he could torment them before killing them. Rix, Glynnie and Holm certainly fell into that category.

  “Lord Deadhand?” Thom said anxiously.

  “We’re going to fight to the end,” said Rix. “We’re never giving in, no matter what…”

  “But?” said Thom, taking his hand and moving closer to him.

  Rix put an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “I won’t lie to you, Thom. I don’t see how we can win.”

  CHAPTER 74

  In the healery, Glynnie made sure the man with the broken legs was being attended to, and ran back to North Tower. The battering-ram crew stood guard on the doors and Benn was out in the middle of the yard, watching the images from the camera obscura flickering on the wall.

  “What’s happening?” panted Glynnie.

  “It’s awful,” said Benn, without looking around.

  It looked the same as before. Blood all over Tali’s head; blood on Holm’s hands and forearms, his scalpel and bone augers; Grandys in the background, arms folded, watching and waiting for the prize.

  “It’s been going on for half an hour,” she said. “Surely Holm must be close to the pearl.”

  “I think he is,” Benn said absently, totally focused on what was happening up above.

  “Has there been any news from Rix?”

  “No.”

  “Run and tell him what’s going on.”

  “He can see the operation as well as we can,” said Benn.

  “Well, go and ask him how the siege is going,” she snapped.

  “Do I have to?” said Benn.

  “Right away!” Glynnie said sharply. “We’re fighting a war.” And losing it.

  Benn ran. Glynnie knotted her fingers together. Watching the operation, seeing the battle being lost with every stroke of Holm’s bloody instruments and being able to do nothing about it, was unbearable.

  Which was why Grandys was showing them the operation. He was a vengeful brute who liked to torment his victims to the cracking point before he finally crushed them.

  There had to be a way to turn the tables; to use his strengths, or his fears, against him. He had two weaknesses that Glynnie was aware of—his superstitious terror of the wyverin, and his rivalry with and fear of Lirriam and Incarnate.

  Tali had tried to turn Lirriam against Grandys; she had told Glynnie so when they were held by the Resistance. But it had not worked. The Five Heroes could be bitter rivals, but at any threat to one the others always closed ranks.

  That left the wyverin. If Glynnie could have woken it she would have, because even the slightest hope was worth the risk, but its lair was too far away.

  How then?

  She walked around the yard, looking up at the sky and wondering what Lyf was up to. He had been planning to take Tali to the top of the dome; she had heard him call the gauntling there, though it was a huge, omi
nous beast and, if it had been seen, Glynnie would have heard about it by now.

  It must still be on its way and presumably Lyf was waiting up top for it, and renewing his strength. But he must attack soon—probably at the moment Grandys took the master pearl. Lyf would not go far from it, now that he had the circlet.

  Benn came racing back. “What news from the wall?” said Glynnie.

  “It’s holding,” he gasped. “But only just. Rix says they might keep the enemy out for another hour, but that’s all.”

  “Then we need a miracle.”

  Benn looked up at the camera obscura image. Glynnie did too. Holm was slumped over the end of the slab. He took several deep breaths, washed his red hands and moved back to Tali.

  “What’s he doing now?” said Benn.

  “Looks like he’s cleaning her up.”

  Tali’s eyes were closed and she lay still. Glynnie could not tell if she were dead or alive. Grandys bent over her head, concealing her for a moment, then turned and slowly raised his right arm as high as he could reach. He was holding something in his fingertips—a small, bloody object: shiny, black. His coarse, bloated face glowed with triumph.

  “He’s got it!” said Glynnie.

  A collective groan ran through the battering-ram crew.

  “Benn, run and find Rix, quick! Tell him Grandys has the master pearl.”

  Benn ran off.

  Holm appeared to be stitching Tali’s head, though thankfully Glynnie could not see it clearly. Even inured as she was to the butchery she’d often watched and carried out on wounded men in the healery, she had seen enough.

  “I have the pearl,” said Grandys, holding a speaking trumpet to his mouth. “Now let my enemies tremble.”

  His voice boomed out. He was using magery to amplify his words, to make sure everyone in the fortress, as well as his own troops outside, knew he had prevailed.

  “But can you command the other four pearls?” said Lirriam. “And can you call upon their power to raise king-magery?”

  “Yes, and yes!” said Grandys.

  Benn came running back. He must have only gone halfway before Grandys had made his announcement.

  “Pray that the master pearl bursts and blasts him to bits in his moment of triumph,” said Glynnie.