by Martha Wells
"Just Sir Renier that I could see, Sir. They said if I came in they wouldn't let me go back because the idea was to get everyone out, you see."
"All right." Thomas looked around and saw Martin nearby. He waved him over and said, "Find Commander Vivan and spread word that when I give the order to fall back everyone's to stop firing immediately and head for the stairs. We'll have our retreat covered but not for long." As Martin hurried off he told Berham, "You tell the reloaders to make sure they get the wounded out of here before we have to move."
"Yes, Captain," Berham said, pushing to his feet. "By God, this might work."
As Berham made his way back to the reloaders, Thomas saw a disturbance on the other side of the hall. Soot was pouring out of the great hearth in a dusty cloud. Thomas stood and started toward it. There was something coming down the chimney.
Closer, he could see that the head emerging from under the stone mantel was like a horse's in size and shape. But its eyes were glazed over and white and it looked as though its coat had been removed with a dull knife. It had teeth like a lion. Thomas drew his pistol, but before he could wind the mainspring, the creature plunged out of the fireplace and fell on a group of men who had been reloading muskets. It swung its great horse's head from side to side, its teeth tearing as the men scrambled to get away.
Reaching it, Thomas drew his rapier and slashed at its side. As it turned toward him with a scream of rage, he drove the point through its neck. It teetered, then fell toward him, dragging him down as it slumped onto the floor.
A second creature was emerging from the fireplace. Thomas dropped the rapier and wound the pistol's spring, then braced it on his forearm and fired.
The ball hit the creature in its broad chest along with three other shots fired from different areas of the hall and a fourth ball that all but shattered the mantel of the hearth. The creature dropped like a stone.
Galen Dubell appeared at Thomas's side, pointed at the fireplace, and gestured. The creature's body caught fire as if it had been dipped in pitch and flames shot up the chimney. "That should hold them for awhile," Dubell said with satisfaction.
Thomas shoved himself upright and went to put a foot on the fay-horse's neck to work his rapier free. He asked, "Can you help Kade?"
"No, anything I could do might only counteract the effect she is attempting to create and then we would be dead." Dubell smiled grimly. "But I can harry the enemy and perhaps give her more time."
As the sorcerer strode off Thomas looked after him, a little nonplused. Disasters agree with you.
As others ran up to carry the wounded, more fay charged the barricade and Thomas joined the defenders.
Nightmare images flung themselves out of the darkness and were driven back by pistol balls or pikes wielded over the barricade. There were hideous animal-shapes with distorted bodies and wicked intelligent eyes, creatures with oddly human faces and bodies that were marked with startling deformities, and other things that vanished so quickly the mind discounted what the eyes saw. Their shrieking and keening mixed with the blasts of muskets and pistols was deafening.
Thomas had lost track of time when Vivan grabbed his arm and said, "She's ready."
Thomas looked around. The wounded and the refugees had vanished up the stairway and Commander Vivan had already sent the reloaders after them. Thomas said, "Pass the word: when I give the order, stop firing and fall back into the bastion." He stepped back where he could see Kade and waited for the word to pass down the line.
When the guards at each end signaled ready, Thomas looked at Kade. She nodded, and he yelled, "Fall back."
Discipline held remarkably, even among the Albon knights, who didn't think themselves obliged to listen to anyone.
The shrieking din from their attackers rose in a crescendo. Thomas moved with the others to the foot of the stairs and looked back for Kade, not seeing her among the crowd.
She was still crouched beside the barricade. Thomas saw what she had been waiting for. The Host surged up toward the barricade and met a wall of hostile air. Some dissolved into myriad colors that shrieked toward the ceiling and away like fleeing ghosts. Some popped like soap bubbles and disappeared while others fell backward, marked by horrible wounds.
Kade smiled tightly to herself, leapt to her feet, and ran.
Thomas waited for her to reach the stairway before starting up. She was a little ahead of him halfway up the second tier when she was thrown back against the banister as if something had struck her.
The Host started to pour over the barricade. Thomas reached Kade and lifted her up. She was unconscious but still breathing and weighed practically nothing.
The third tier passed in a blur with the fay on the stairs below. Then the Albon knights were closing the siege doors behind him, foot-thick oak panels sheathed with iron. They slammed them to and shoved the heavy locking-bolts home. The foyer was crowded with wounded guards and refugees, and the light was dim and smoky.
Kade let him know she was awake and wanted to be put down with a sharp elbow in his ribs. He set her on her feet and she staggered slightly. "What happened to you?" he demanded, his breath coming hard from the climb.
"I don't know. Ow." She felt the side of her head gingerly. "Where's Galen?"
The old sorcerer was already on the other side of the gallery, helping with the wounded. As Kade turned away to go to him Thomas said, "Wait."
She paused, wary, and he asked, "Did you know this was going to happen?"
"No." Her voice was scornful. "That is the Unseelie Court, the Dark Host, the enemy of light. I wouldn't have anything to do with them. They were the ones who tricked my mother into accepting a wager she couldn't possibly win. I wasn't much fond of her, but no one deserves-- And they would just as soon do the same to me."
He had to be sure. "You didn't mention you knew how to manipulate the wards."
"I wouldn't have been able to call that ward down if the keystone had still been in its place. Removing it destroyed the etheric structure that held the wards in their courses." She winced and touched her head again, then continued more calmly. "Galen taught me how to track wards in a puddle of ash, and the way I called Ableon-Indis to me was only a variation on the spells used to temporarily hold a ward in one place, which every apprentice knows. Ask him if you don't believe me."
There was a muffled thump from the other side of the siege doors, then an echoing roar, as some thwarted creature expressed its displeasure. If Kade had not bothered to aid the defenders, they would have been on the other side of those doors now. Thomas thought, She didn't have to do it, and it certainty wouldn't serve her purpose if she meant us any harm. He said, "It won't be necessary to ask him."
Kade hesitated, as if she was just as inexperienced at accepting trust as he was at giving it, then she turned without a word and slipped into the crowd. Renier pushed past the other Albons clustering near the siege doors to reach Thomas and said, "The doors are holding."
Thomas asked, "What started it?" It had occurred to him that he still didn't know exactly what had exploded or where, except that it was somewhere in the Old Palace or the Gallery Wing.
The big knight looked like he had been run over by a wagon. The final touch was a perfect black eye. He said, "I only know we've lost half the Cisternan Guard and anyone who was posted past the main hall of the Old Palace. Including one of your lieutenants. I saw him going that way just before it happened."
Gideon would be with Falaise in the King's Bastion. "Lucas Castil?"
"Yes, that's him."
"God damn." Thomas leaned back against the wall and used the full sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He could still smell the fay-horse's acrid blood. "Where's Ravenna?"
"She's here in the bastion; I've seen her. Roland was in the Gallery Wing when it happened. We got him out barely in time." Renier hesitated, then said, "I have to talk to you in private."
Thomas looked up at him. With Kade on the other side of the gallery, there was no one to eavesdrop e
xcept for their own men, who were standing or lying about in various positions of pain or exhaustion, but Renier's expression was deadly serious.
As they moved off a little, Thomas asked, "How did you get that eye?" Considering everyone else's wounds, it was oddly minor.
"The King was a trifle upset at certain developments," Renier answered with a noticeable lack of expression.
"Well, he's a great comfort to all of us," Thomas snapped. We've given our lives for an idiot child. And Lucas was dead.
Renier didn't seem to notice the comment. He seemed almost dazed. "Thomas, I'm not sure about this but..."
Renier hesitated such a long moment Thomas had to take a better hold on what was left of his patience. "Go on," he said in a level tone.
"A knight stationed on the Prince's Gate Tower reported to me a short while ago. He said they could see fires and fighting in the streets. It's not just the palace quarter; it's the city."
Chapter Nine
RENIER SPREAD THE gilt-edged map on the table and indicated a spot with one calloused finger. "The Cisternan Barracks were overwhelmed in the first few moments." He cast a worried glance at Commander Vivan, who was slumped in a chair by the fire.
"They came through St. Anne's Gate, then?" Thomas asked.
"No. Mind, the reports we have come from grooms and stableboys who were able to seal off the Mews to keep the creatures out of the Old Courts, but they said the attack seemed to come from the inner gate into the palace, not the outer gate. As to how that was managed..." Renier shook his head.
They were in the Queen's Guard House, in one of the small rooms adjacent to the practice hall. The walls were hung with leather and parchment maps and the door was open to the hum of talk from the hall. They knew the human, or once-human, members of the Host had been used as cannon fodder in the initial attack, and that the fay had come after, but Thomas felt they still did not have an accurate picture of how the invasion had taken place. He said, "We still don't know what that explosion was."
"It wasn't the city armories. You can see them from the top of the inner wall. But that's what everyone thought. The off-duty Queen's guards were heading that way to repel what they thought was an attack through St. Anne's Gate when they were stopped at the Old Hall. My men were right behind them."
Thomas saw Gideon drawing breath to make a comment, and cleared his throat. Their eyes met and the younger man subsided with disgruntled reluctance. Most of the guards felt that the main body of the Albon Knights should have followed them down into the Old Hall, instead of staying in the relative safety at the top of the stairs. Thomas was willing to concede that someone had to hold the siege doors; whether the task had required almost the entire Albon troop was another matter. But it had been an act of disorganization rather than cowardice, and he wanted to keep the trouble among the two troops to a minimum. Looking back to Renier, Thomas said, "In the cellars it sounded as if the explosion was almost directly overhead; it must have been somewhere in the Gallery Wing."
"But there's nothing there to explode, not with that sort of force, not unless they brought it with them," Renier protested.
"Maybe they did." Vivan's voice startled them.
Only an accident of history had placed the Queen's Guard House in the area protected by the ancient wards of the inner walls. They had lost far too many men as it was, but the Cisternan Guard, and their families living within the barracks and adjacent to it, had been nearly destroyed.
After a moment, Renier cleared his throat. "We should hear from the commanders of the city levies by morning."
Thomas shook his head. There were over six thousand city volunteers, half musketeers and half pikemen, organized into regiments based on their neighborhoods. Both the crown and the Ministry had the right to call them out, but in the chaos of this night that would be impossible. "The city levies won't be able to form; they'll be too busy defending their own homes and it will be suicide to go out into the streets tonight."
Renier regarded the map again. "The Host has never attacked in force before. It has harried travelers, solitary farmsteads, but never... Well, the gate garrisons will be trapped inside until daylight at least. The Host can't attack when the sun's out."
Thomas had been told by Kade that the main body of the Host was composed of powerful quarrelsome spirits from the Unseelie Court, who could agree on nothing but revelry and fighting the Seelie Court, their opposites in Fayre. In their wake would be fay predators: hags, bogles, spriggans, things that haunted lonely places or preyed on travelers. Thomas said, "They can't attack in the kind of organized force they used on us in the Old Palace, but there's a mob of dark fay following them like scavengers after an army. They aren't organized, but they can stand the daylight and they will attack at any opportunity."
Renier pursed his lips in disapproval. "You heard that from Kade Carrion, I assume. I'd prefer another source for that intelligence."
Thomas controlled an inexplicable surge of irritation, and without too much acid in his voice asked, "Who else did you have in mind to question?"
Frowning, Renier shook his head. "Still... There's no help for it, I suppose. Does she know if Grandier is aiding them?"
"No, but he must be involved somehow." Thomas considered a moment. "The Host was depending on surprise, and they had help. Someone knew to go down into that cellar and take the keystone, and whoever it was is probably still here with us." Dontane might have known who that traitor was, but he must have died with the other prisoners and the guards in the Cisternan Guard House.
Renier looked up. "Perhaps the man who killed Dr. Braun got the location of the keystone out of him before he died."
Thomas managed not to roll his eyes. "Braun was killed instantly; he wasn't tortured for information."
"If we could get the keystone back--"
"It could be hidden anywhere." Thomas shook his head, frustrated. "We can't count on that."
"Well, we can't beat our heads about it now." Renier leaned over the map. "The corridors in the outer walls have been sealed. The rooftops and the open areas of the Old Courts are protected by the wards, and the iron-shod siege doors are keeping them from coming through the King's Bastion to us. The only thing we can do now is wait it out."
If Renier wanted to "wait it out" with a traitor in their camp it was his business. But Thomas had no reason to argue the point while he still had a few more preparations to make.
Lord General Villon and the siege engine cavalry were posted at the Granges, a royal fortress about fifty-five miles to the south. It was the mobile force closest to the city, except for Denzil's small private garrison still in residence at Bel Garde. The fay might be able to take the city, but they couldn't hold it. They couldn't close the iron-hinged gates, use the cannon mounted on the walls, or the stockpiles of arms. Villon had proven troops and a populace that would rise to aid him as soon as they saw his flags.
Renier rolled up his map and went back out into the hall. Thomas caught Gideon's arm and said softly, "If anyone's going to offer to hold Renier's sword while he falls on it, it's going to be me; is that clear, Sir?"
Gideon smiled reluctantly. "Yes, Sir, it's clear."
As the others left, Thomas hesitated a moment over Vivan, but he had no idea what to say to him.
He walked out through the hall, where things were beginning to calm down as the night wore on without attack. The refugees in the house were mainly palace servants and retainers who didn't mind bedding down on a clear space of floor as long as there was a roof overhead and plenty of iron lying about. They were stretched out on blankets along the walls or huddled in groups telling each other their horror stories from the last few hours. Their children played on the second-floor balconies with nerveless unconcern, but no one apparently felt secure enough to put out any of the lanterns, despite the number of people trying to sleep. The only real disturbance was an old woman kneeling in the far corner praying at the top of her lungs, while a nervous young girl anxiously pleaded with her to stop.<
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Queen's guards and the few remaining Cisternans were prowling the house like caged cats, checking their weapons over and over again and alert for anything. The refugees of higher class were crowded in the Albon Tower and the Gate Bastion, with the King's Bastion being kept as a buffer area between the fay in the Old Palace and the fortified court. Thomas had preferred this arrangement, knowing that if he had to have a large group of civilians under his protection in a battle, it was better to have ones who were trained to take orders without question. Ravenna and Falaise and their entourages were safely ensconced on an upper floor.
In the entrance hall he found Phaistus, standing before the partly open doors and looking tentatively up at the cloudy night sky. "What are you doing?" Thomas asked him.
Phaistus jumped, then shifted the heavy coil of rope tucked under his arm. "Berham wanted this in the tower, Captain."
His reluctance was understandable. On the open roads of the country, the Host traditionally attacked from above, swooping down on men like hawks on mice. Except that hawks were unquestionably kinder in dispatching their mice quickly than the Host would be with human captives. The wards still clinging to this side of the palace were supposed to protect them while outside, but the wards had failed before.
"Well, come on then." Thomas hauled him out into the open court.
The night air was chill, the court lit only by light seeping through cracks in shutters and closed doors. The Albon Tower high above them was only a dim shape in the darkness, clouds streaming swiftly across the moon. Phaistus hurried along in Thomas's shadow, casting worried glances at the sky.
The first level of the tower had become an infirmary, and the sick familiar odor of cauterization hit Thomas as soon as he went in.
The wounded lay on pallets along the walls of the high-ceilinged hall. There were women and children among them, far too many. They had been hacked up by the bronze blades of the human servants of the Host, burned in the sporadic fires that had broken out from overturned lamps, or bitten and clawed by the fay. There were no victims of elf-shot. If someone was hit by one of those tiny harmless-looking stones he fell down and never moved or spoke again, no better than breathing dead, and was lucky if starvation or thirst killed him before the stone found his heart. Anyone struck by elf-shot had been left behind, or smothered by Dr. Lambe or one of the other apothecaries.