The Diamond Isle d-3

by Stan Nicholls

  ‘Do you agree with this, Reeth?’

  ‘Whatever you or I think doesn’t make much difference, Serrah. It’s been decided.’

  ‘Is that all you’ve got to say about it?’

  ‘We’re not in a normal situation. Everybody on this island could be heading for death. Who are we to dictate how they face it?’

  She sighed. ‘Well, at least get the damned stuff out of my sight.’

  ‘I’ll have it moved,’ Darrok promised. ‘It’ll be hidden. And hopefully it’ll never be needed.’

  ‘I think we have something more positive to discuss, don’t we, Zahgadiah?’ Pallidea said.

  ‘We do. Reeth and I have worked up a plan for rescuing your friend Kinsel.’

  ‘How are you going to do it?’ Kutch asked.

  ‘Good question. Let’s discuss it while we eat, shall we?’

  17

  ‘So you think it was the same meld Reeth and Serrah encountered?’ Karr said.

  ‘How many can there be?’ Disgleirio replied. ‘But it shook me, I can tell you that. I’ve never faced such strength in an opponent, or skill. And she took the life of one of our best men, which is something I’ll not forget in a hurry.’

  ‘She was aiding the militia?’

  ‘Well, in the sense that she was attacking civilians. But I don’t think she was working with the authorities. More like a freelance.’

  ‘But not some kind of maverick, apparently. At least, Reeth didn’t think so. He suspected a connection with the paladins.’

  ‘Whoever she’s aligned with she did a lot of damage out there today.’

  Goyter stuck her head round the door, a familiar, determined look on her face. ‘Come on, you two, eat. I won’t tell you again.’

  Karr smiled wryly. ‘I think we’d better do as she says. The wrath of a meld’s as nothing compared to hers.’

  Disgleirio had to grin. He knew it was at least half true.

  They filed out of Karr’s tiny makeshift study. The ex-Patrician walked stiffly, but try as he might to hide the pain, he couldn’t disguise his eyes. Disgleirio pushed from his mind the thought that their leader, his friend, had death written on him.

  A spacious side chamber in the catacombs had been given over to a dining area. Half a dozen long, sturdy benches almost filled it. But most people had eaten by this hour, and only a handful lingered over their meals. Karr and Disgleirio chose seats at an unoccupied table.

  Once they’d settled, the Righteous Blade man said, ‘But the really strange aspect was the business with her foot. I reckon she was drawing magical power directly from the grid. Have you ever heard of such a thing?’

  ‘Actually, yes, though it’s rare. When I was a young man there was a case that caused quite a stir. It was a minor member of the royal family; a cousin of the King or Queen. I don’t recall which. Anyway, he was ailing. Had some kind of wasting disease the healers couldn’t deal with. Somebody came up with the idea of rejuvenating him by linking him directly to the magic source.’

  ‘Did it work?’

  ‘For a while. But it only postponed the inevitable. Tragic, really.’

  ‘It sounds costly.’

  ‘Oh, yes. The meld you tangled with must be very wealthy, or have rich patrons. Not to mention access to the magical know-how.’

  ‘I wish Phoenix was here to ask about it.’

  Goyter arrived with a tray. She placed food in front of them, and a jug and goblets.

  Karr nodded his thanks. ‘Where’s Tanalvah?’ he asked her.

  ‘With Teg and Lirrin. I’ll try to have her join you. She still looks a wreck, poor thing. What’s wrong with your food?’

  He stared at his bowl disdainfully. ‘Nothing,’ he sighed.

  ‘You can’t expect hearty banquets, Dulian, not when you have your health to think of.’ She moved off, tray under her arm.

  ‘Hearty banquet,’ Karr grumbled. ‘Chance would be a fine thing. They feed you slop when you come into this world and again when you’re getting ready to leave it.’ He glanced at Quinn’s plate. ‘Not that yours looks much more appetising.’

  Disgleirio was going to counter his comment about leaving the world, but decided to ignore it. He knew Karr had no time for platitudes. Instead he said, ‘I’m amazed they get regular meals organised at all.’

  ‘Yes, the quartermasters and cooks do a miraculous job. I’m turning into an old grump, Quinn.’

  ‘Not you.’

  Karr tried a spoonful and made a face. ‘Tell me about the note you got.’

  Disgleirio put down his goblet. ‘I’ve got it here.’ He dug the piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over.

  Karr squinted. ‘Hmmm. That’s hardly news. It’s no secret that the Diamond Isle’s probably going to be attacked, or that our operation here is vulnerable.’

  ‘Yes, but why should somebody go to the trouble of telling us that unless they have inside information? Whoever it was took a hell of a risk getting this to me. I reckon it’s genuine, but who’s responsible, or why, I can’t imagine.’

  ‘We still have supporters, including people who want to help us without getting too involved.’

  ‘How many know I’m in the Resistance?’

  ‘Good point. But it would have been a reasonable supposition simply because you were trying to defend innocent people from the militia. Nevertheless, I agree we should take this note at face value.’ He handed it back. ‘I’ll get a warning out to all our cells.’

  ‘Suppose the note’s referring to a raid here, at headquarters?’

  ‘I have to assume that no matter how good the informant’s knowledge, they don’t know about this place. It’s too well kept a secret.’

  ‘Isn’t that what we were saying before the betrayal?’

  ‘I’m not being complacent, Quinn. I’ll certainly order an even greater level of security. But the truth is that having to move our HQ again would be too much of an upheaval, particularly when we’re so close to activating the new plan.’

  ‘We should speed up the schedule.’

  ‘I’m not sure we can; everybody’s working flat-out as it is. It might be different if there were more of us.’

  ‘Then what about passing word of this warning to the Diamond Isle?’

  ‘We’ll try, but you know how hard it is getting anything through to them. If the authorities aren’t already nullifying message glamours, they soon will be. Anyway, the islanders aren’t stupid. They don’t need us to tell them they’re in an incredibly exposed position.’

  Tanalvah appeared, walking with the slow, slightly rolling gait of a heavily expectant mother. She looked drained. Disgleirio got up and dragged out a chair for her.

  ‘Where are the children?’ Karr asked.

  ‘Sleeping,’ Tan replied, expelling a weary breath. ‘Who did you say was in an exposed position?’

  ‘We were talking about the Diamond Isle,’ Disgleirio explained.

  ‘Though we were only stating the obvious, I’m afraid,’ Karr added. ‘It’s not exactly a revelation that those on the island are in a hazardous state.’

  ‘At least they don’t have a traitor in their midst,’ Disgleirio muttered, ‘as far as we know.’

  Tanalvah coloured. She was sure their eyes were on her. Then Goyter turned up with her meal, and fussed over her for a moment. Tanalvah prayed that the distraction would make them forget the subject.

  ‘We all feel bitter about the betrayal, Quinn,’ Karr said. ‘But we have to let it go. It’s history now.’

  ‘Not if the traitor’s still in our ranks.’

  Tanalvah’s heart sank again.

  ‘If they were, why haven’t there been further betrayals?’ Karr reasoned. ‘Why haven’t they finished us?’

  ‘Perhaps they’re biding their time.’

  ‘It would have made sense to hit us while we were weak and disorganised. That didn’t happen. To my mind, that means whoever was responsible fled or died.’

  ‘Pushing your pet theory aga
in are you, Dulian?’

  ‘Yes. I still think there’s a good argument for it having been Kayne.’

  Tanalvah lifted her gaze. ‘Who?’

  ‘Mijar Kayne,’ Disgleirio answered. ‘Dulian’s referring to an unfortunate episode that we in the Righteous Blade aren’t particularly proud of. Kayne was a rogue. He used his position to enrich himself, mainly by demanding money to protect people we were already sworn to defend. And we think he might have sold low-level intelligence to the authorities.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Something that’s very rarely occurred in the history of the Brotherhood; he was expelled. During the slaughter that followed the Great Betrayal he was killed in a skirmish with paladins. While looting, typically. We were looking for him ourselves at the time. It was a toss up as to who put him to the blade first.’

  ‘And that’s why there’s been no further treachery,’ Karr said. ‘A dead man can hardly indulge in perfidy.’

  ‘He was greedy and vain, but petty criminality doesn’t make somebody a traitor on that scale. I don’t think it was Kayne.’

  Karr looked to Tanalvah. ‘You’re not eating, my dear.’

  ‘I’ve no appetite.’

  ‘You must keep up your strength, you know.’

  ‘Yes.’ But she made no effort to touch her food.

  ‘These aren’t pleasant matters to dwell on, particularly for someone in your condition. Forgive us.’

  ‘No, I…I’m interested.’

  ‘Well, we have some news you might find a little more cheering. We’ve nearly completed preparations to try to reach the Diamond Isle. I’m not saying it would be easy getting there, but we have a plan that-’

  ‘Everyone’s going?’

  ‘No. Unfortunately we had to be selective. But those staying behind never intended going to the island in the first place. Or else they’ve volunteered to stay in the hope they’ll have an opportunity in future, if things settle down.’

  ‘How many are going?’

  ‘As many as a ship will hold. It could be a couple of hundred, depending on the vessel. But we’d do our best to make you comfortable and-’

  ‘You’re asking me to go with you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘We understand you’d be concerned for your safety,’ Disgleirio said, ‘and for the children’s. But everything possible would be done to protect you all.’

  ‘I can’t go,’ she repeated.

  ‘Taking you somewhere so potentially dangerous must sound insane to you, Tanalvah,’ Karr added. ‘But we’ve reason to believe things are going to get worse here. At least you’d be with friends on the island.’

  ‘It’s not that. I don’t want to go.’

  They were confounded, and it showed.

  ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,’ she told them, ‘but I can’t leave.’

  Disgleirio recovered first. ‘Why?’

  ‘If…when Kinsel gets back, he’ll come here, to Bhealfa.’

  ‘Tan…’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t care. I put my trust in Iparrater. The goddess will protect him and bring him back to us.’

  ‘Your faith’s admirable,’ Karr responded gently, ‘and it gives you strength. But you have to be realistic. It could be that Kinsel won’t-’

  Tanalvah got up, awkwardly, knocking over a glass. She pushed away Disgleirio’s helping hand.

  ‘Kinsel will look for me and the children here,’ she repeated obstinately. ‘Where else would he go?’ She began to move away.

  Disgleirio would have followed, had not Karr grasped his arm. ‘Let her be,’ he advised. ‘She needs time.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘To come to terms with the fact that Kinsel’s lost to her.’

  Kinsel Rukanis couldn’t sleep.

  There was nothing unusual about that in itself; he’d had no better than a few hours of rest on any night since being sentenced, but he dared to hope this night might be different. On some obscure whim, Vance had ordered him taken from his filthy berth in the bowels of the ship and given his own cabin. True, the door was locked and guarded, and Kinsel couldn’t stray far from his bunk due to his ankle being chained to it. All that notwithstanding, his new surroundings were luxurious compared to what he’d grown used to. But sleep was still elusive, despite his exhaustion.

  His emotions constantly surprised him. Why should he expect to sleep, given his circumstances? Why suppose he would ever sleep again? Or live to do so, come to that. He began to feel selfish for wanting something as natural as sleep.

  Everything seemed so much worse in the middle of the night. Not that things were really any better in the daytime, but during the hours of darkness defences were down. Skin was somehow thinner, fears more pressing. It was when hopelessness triumphed, and the thought of self-destruction took on an allure.

  There was no cheer to be had from the cabin. It was spartan to the point of bleakness, containing little more than the cot he occupied, and that was bolted to the floor. The only light came from the three-quarter moon, its frail beams entering by way of a minute porthole.

  It was quiet. All he heard was the creaking of the ship at anchor, and the pacing of the guard on the other side of the door. The man was either taking his sentry duties seriously or just trying to keep warm. In any event the measured tread of heavy boots on weathered planks was mesmerising.

  Kinsel lay staring at the low timbered ceiling, listening to the rhythm of the guard’s footsteps and trying not to think. He counted the paces. Eight steps took the guard to the limit of his territory, then there was a pause, some shuffling, and eight steps back. Kinsel didn’t find it a comfort exactly, or relaxing, but it did have a kind of consoling quality. Perhaps because it gave him a tenuous connection to another human being, even though the guard had no friendly intent.

  So he listened, totted up the footsteps and kept his mind as blank as he could.

  One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight. Pause. Shuffle. One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight.

  Kinsel remained in his sleepless state for an indefinite period of time, lulled by the tempo of the stranger walking outside.

  One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight. Pause. Shuffle. One…two…three…four…five…

  The sudden termination was like a slap in the face. An affront to his reality. He was so startled he instinctively sat up.

  There were new sounds. A scuffle, and what might have been a muffled cry. Then the thud of something weighty meeting the deck, followed by a more distant commotion, of men running and shouting, and the chiming of steel. He drew up his knees and hugged them protectively, straining the chain that bound him.

  The door rattled, the handle shook, and a hammering began. Kinsel held his peace, not knowing if calling out would be wise or not. He wrenched at the chain, uselessly.

  The hammering gave way to a concerted battering. Not a fist now; something metallic. The door shuddered in its frame, and with a crash, the head of an axe burst through. Several more blows followed, sending splinters flying. Kinsel ducked.

  The door gave. It flew inward, whacked the wall and bounced half closed again. Somebody shouldered their way in. His appearance was hidden by the gloom, but a moonbeam struck the double-headed axe he was clutching, glinting the steel.

  ‘Kinsel?’

  Rukanis thought he recognised the voice, but didn’t trust his senses and stayed mute.

  ‘Kinsel?’ The man moved forward, catching enough of the meagre light from the porthole to show his features.

  Kinsel fought disbelief. He wanted to speak, and only croaked. Gulping a breath, he tried again. ‘Reeth?’ It came out as a rasp.

  Caldason stood over him. ‘You took some finding,’ he said.

  ‘Reeth?’ Kinsel repeated, gaping. ‘Is it really you or am I dreaming?’

  ‘It’s no dream. But it’ll turn into a nightmare if we don’t
get you out off this ship, and fast.’

  ‘But how did-’

  ‘Questions later, all right?’ He took in the singer’s wasted frame and haggard face. ‘Hell, Kinsel, you look rough.’

  ‘Yes. I expect I do.’ His eyes welled. He began to shake.

  Caldason laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. ‘Steady. It’s going to be all right; I’m getting you out of here. Can you walk?’

  ‘Yes. Well…’ He nodded at the chain securing his ankle.

  Caldason went to the foot of the bunk and swung his axe at the wooden upright. The blade sliced through in a single stroke, and he pulled the chain through the loop on Kinsel’s anklet. ‘We’ll get that off later. Up you come.’ He helped him stand.

  The noises outside grew wilder.

  Kinsel wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. He looked dazed. ‘You’re not alone?’

  ‘No. But we’re nowhere near the size of Vance’s crew.’ Rukanis visibly tensed at mention of the pirate’s name. ‘We don’t have too far to go. Can you make it?’

  ‘I’ll cope.’

  ‘Good. Let’s move.’ He went to take the singer’s arm.

  ‘There’s no need. I can do it alone. Really.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Just lead me. But, Reeth…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Tanalvah. And the children. How…how are…?’

  ‘They’re fine.’ Caldason had no way of knowing whether they were or not, but felt a judicious lie was in order. ‘You’ve no need to worry about them. Just concentrate on doing as I say.’

  Caldason checked that the way was clear and they moved out of the cabin. The door opened directly onto the deck where a stiff, cold wind blew. Kinsel shivered. Caldason unhooked his cloak and wrapped it round the singer’s shoulders. Kinsel didn’t protest.

  The body of the guard was slumped against the wall in a gathering pool of blood. Kinsel stared, but said nothing.

  ‘Keep going,’ Caldason urged.

  Kinsel walked falteringly, like a man who’d been kept in a confined space for too long, which in many ways he had.

  As they moved away from the cabins and towards the main deck, they saw a handful of men. Beyond them, a larger group were engaging some of the pirate crew.