He slipped down the back alley, but cursed as he spotted another pair of heavy-necked thugs watching the rear door.
Damn! Evren growled a silent curse as he retreated around a corner. So much for getting in that way.
His mind raced as he tried to figure out his next step. Houl had gone into that house, and the thugs at the front and back made him fairly certain that he had found the Ybrazhe stronghold. But until he was fully certain, he couldn’t risk making a move. The only hope of ridding the city of their blight would be to scoop up as many of their Crew Leaders as possible.
The Syndicate already operated without Blackfinger; taking down the last of their command structure could spell the end of their power in the city. A handful of leaderless thugs would do little more than stir up trouble. The Indomitables could take care of them once order had been restored to Shalandra.
For the next half-hour, Evren made a wide circuit of the squat three-story building, learning the layout and all the ins and outs. He wanted to be certain, when the time came, they captured every damned Ybrazhe thug in that building.
He had to admit it was a well-chosen stronghold. The windows on the two lower floors were shuttered and barred, and a heavy oak door had been hung on both the front and rear entrances. They’d need a solid battering ram to break through.
His gaze traveled upward and a smile touched his lips as he spotted an open window on the top floor.
Well, let’s see what you have to offer.
It took less than five minutes to scramble onto a nearby rooftop and settle into a comfortable position studying the Ybrazhe’s hideout from cover. Evren had to move with caution—the roof’s thatching had begun to sag, crumbling away in a few places—but he found a good perch on a solid roof beam.
From his new vantage point, he realized he still couldn’t see into the upper floor window. The Ybrazhe had chosen the only three-story building on the street, giving them unparalleled lines of sight without fear of anyone looking in on their activities.
Well-chosen, indeed.
Growling his frustration, he turned his attention to the upper-floor window. A two-story building stood just close enough that he might be able to leap from its rooftop to that of the Ybrazhe’s building. From there, it would be an easy climb up to that window. It would be much easier to get a head count of the Syndicate’s manpower from the inside.
Just as he rose from cover, a face appeared at the window. Immediately, Evren threw himself flat against the roof, so quickly he nearly fell off his perch. Thatching rustled and wood creaked, setting Evren’s heart hammering. Yet he forced himself to lay still, his senses attuned for any shout of alarm. Did they see me?
No alarm sounded. Silence met his ears, broken only by the low, distant roaring of the rioters.
A sigh of relief escaped Evren’s lips. That was too damned close!
Cautiously, he pulled himself upward and peered over the bridge of the roof. A man stood framed in the window, a smoking pipe clenched between his teeth. He seemed so peaceful, a strange sight amid the chaos that gripped Shalandra. He puffed calmly on his pipe, knocked some ash loose, then puffed again.
The light of the late afternoon sun splashed across the man’s square jaw, sloped forehead, and patchy black beard. Evren recognized him from his visit to Blackfinger’s hideout. He had been one of the thugs lounging about in the upstairs as the Syndicate thugs hauled Evren downstairs. His calm composure, the unhurried meticulousness of the way he smoked the pipe, and his relaxed attitude told Evren this man was very likely in charge.
Could it be Taghban? Houl and the other Syndicate thugs had spoken of Taghban as if he was their superior. Perhaps he was the highest-ranked Ybrazhe Crew Leader still alive, or simply the one that had taken control in Blackfinger’s absence.
A fierce grin split his lips as he slid back down the sloped roof. Now to go for reinforcements.
Kodyn and Aisha had their own missions, but he knew someone who could help. Issa had the authority to summon Indomitables to help them capture the Ybrazhe—or convince Lady Callista to send them with her. A couple dozen would suffice to round up everyone in that building.
The question was how to find Issa. Last he’d seen her, she had been racing toward her grandparents’ house. But that had been hours ago, shortly before sunrise. So much had happened in the last few hours; she could be anywhere in the city.
Great! He sighed. Sounds like another long stroll through the Serenii tunnels. He’d spent hours the previous day trying to find her, and had only succeeded thanks to Hykos, Issa’s Archateros trainer. What are the chances the Mistress’ luck will smile on me twice in a row?
The sun had just touched the western cliff by the time he descended the rooftops and ducked into the back alley. He consulted the map of the Serenii tunnels etched into his memory. The nearest entrance would be a few hundred paces to the west of his current location, near this tier’s Hall of Bounty.
He slithered through the deepening shadows of the alley, his movements cautious to avoid drawing attention. Though the Ybrazhe had maintained peace in this section of the city, he didn’t dare risk being spotted by a Syndicate watcher or swept up in the turmoil.
His gut tightened at the sound of crashing glass that echoed from within a nearby house. A half-dozen men in rough-spun clothing and red Earaqi headbands spilled out in a surging rush, their voices strident and boisterous. Evren ducked into the shadows, hands dropping to his weapons. Yet he stopped, his daggers half-drawn.
They weren’t shouting “Death to the Pharus!” or any of the other chants taken up by the mob. Instead, they were singing!
Evren had spent enough time around the taverns of Vothmot to recognize drinking songs when he heard them. The glass bottles and sloshing wineskins in the men’s hands made the nature of the house clear. They had looted a tavern or winehouse.
With a snort, Evren released his grip on his weapons and ducked down a side alley, away from the drunken Earaqi. They were too besotted to notice anything beyond their good fortune at finding alcohol to drown in.
A plan formed in his mind as he hurried toward the entrance to the secret tunnels. He’d found Issa with Lady Callista at the makeshift command post on the Defender’s Tier. Evren had little doubt the rioters would be laying siege to the gate barring the way to the Alqati tier, either at the urgings of the Ybrazhe or out of their own resentment of the Indomitables. They’d grow tired of taking out their anger on the Intaji and Zadii, and those in the upper tiers would follow. The Indomitables would likely be holding that gate to block the only access to Shalandra’s two highest tiers.
That’s where I’m most likely to find them, then, Evren decided. If not Issa, certainly Lady Callista. She’s proven she’s the more hands-on type of commander.
The setting sun painted the golden sandstone wall with splashes of red, purple, and orange. The colors, usually so bright and cheerful, brought back memories of the bloodshed and chaos flooding Shalandra. Evren’s jaw clenched. He had to do something to restore peace, for the sake of the innocents who suffered at the hands of evil men.
Something moved in the shadows ahead. Evren tensed, hands once more dropping to his daggers. His heart hammered as dark figures slid from an opening in the sandstone wall and hurried into the shadows of alleys. Despite their attempts at stealth, the unmistakable clatter of armor caught his ear.
His brow furrowed. Indomitables, down here?
After a moment’s hesitation, he slipped toward them, curiosity burning. More and more emerged from the underground tunnels until he counted a full thirty Indomitables, led by three heavily-armored warriors. One was a tall, confident-looking warrior who stood a few inches taller than a younger man Evren recognized as Hykos, the Archateros that had accompanied Issa.
Evren sucked in a breath as the third figure turned and the light of the fading sun highlighted her features. Issa?
Indomitables and Keeper’s Blades, including Issa.
What the hell are they doing her
e on the Cultivator’s Tier?
Chapter Twenty-Two
A palpable tension thickened the still air in the underground passages, pressing in around Issa. The clatter of the Indomitables’ half-plate armor sounded loud in the tunnels, amplified by the heavy breathing of nervous men and women. The crimson light leaking from the strange Serenii gemstones bathed the faces of her companions in an ominous glow.
With every step, pain shot through the wounds in Issa’s legs. Every breath sent a spike lancing into her side. The Keeper’s blessing would heal her, but until then, she’d have to suffer in silence. Giving into the pain would only worsen the anxiety writhing like worms in her gut.
Somewhere behind and above her on the Artisan’s Tier, her Saba fought for his life and to protect Savta. She ached to go help her grandparents but Lady Callista had made it plain: rescuing these Indomitables would be the best way to put an end to the riots. The more soldiers they had, the better chance of restoring order and controlling the tens of thousands of Earaqi, Mahjuri, and Kabili rampaging through the city.
Issa knew the Lady of Blades was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to go fight to save someone else when she knew the danger facing her grandparents. The moment we’re done here, I’m going to rescue Saba and Savta. Clad in her Blades’ armor and wielding her flammard, she would fight her way through the crowd if she had to.
Yet she wasn’t the only person with loved ones in danger. The thirty Indomitables and five Keeper’s Blades in the tunnels beside her likely had family and friends threatened by the chaos. Like them, she had to focus on the larger picture of saving the city, not just concern herself solely with the wellbeing of those close to her. The day she joined the Keeper’s Blades, she had sworn the oath to serve all of Shalandra. That service came first, even if it went against the instincts shrieking in her mind.
Ormroth, the Ypertatos in command of this force, brought up the lead. Despite the danger that awaited them, he seemed at ease, an island of calm confidence amidst the storm of turmoil. He’d issued terse, succinct orders in a controlled tone that revealed little of the urgency he must be feeling. Sunset lay less than half an hour off. Their attack on the Hall of Bounty would commence all too soon.
Issa was glad not to be the one giving orders in this situation. Forty-five of them prepared to face hundreds of angry rioters, perhaps thousands. Her weapons training and physical conditioning had done little to prepare her for commanding a battle. She could only hope Ormroth was as competent as he was calm.
Lady Callista had to trust him to put him in charge of this attack.
As per Ormroth’s orders, Issa and Hykos followed on his heels.
“Stay close,” he’d told her before leading their company into the underground tunnels. “I’ll be asking for your thoughts on how best to approach the situation when we arrive.” The Ypertatos appeared to be the sort of commander more concerned with getting the job done than worrying about what it looked like to take advice from a prototopoi. That earned him a healthy dose of Issa’s respect.
Hykos was a reassuring presence at her side. His face was a mask of calm, though Issa felt the nervous energy radiating from him. When facing the Gatherer attack a few days earlier, he’d proven himself a truly capable warrior. When it came time to fight, she could think of no one better to battle at her side.
The thirty Indomitables following on their heels remained silent—both out of nervous tension and wordless amazement at the tunnels. Though Lady Callista had been loath to reveal the secret of the passages to the soldiers, exigent circumstances demanded it. She had, however, sworn them all to secrecy, on their eternity in the Long Keeper’s arms. The underground tunnels would only remain secret if they held their tongues.
Two more Keeper’s Blades— Ypertatos Tiaten and Chirak, Etai’s Archateros trainer—brought up the rear. Both women appeared to have at least a passing relationship with Ormroth and followed his orders without hesitation.
Issa marveled at the silence from the rear of their small column. Nysin, usually so strident in his complaints, marched without a word. He and the rest of her company of ten trainees had been assigned to join their expeditionary force. Lady Callista had divided the one hundred twenty Indomitables-in-training among the three companies attacking the Halls of Bounty. Given the enemy they faced—one that had the advantage of numbers and knew the city better than they did—every sword counted.
“We’re here.” Ormroth’s quiet words echoed from the head of the column.
“Halt!” Hykos called out.
Ormroth turned to Issa. The crimson glow filling the tunnels painted his face in a somber light. “Let’s hear what you’ve come up with, Prototopoi.”
His tone caught Issa off-guard. Tannard would have shouted at her, insulted her, and ignored whatever she had to say. Ormroth, however, appeared genuinely interested in hearing her advice.
“What can you tell me about the layout of the Hall of Bounty and the surrounding streets?” the Ypertatos asked.
Issa’s brow furrowed in thought. She had spent far too many hours standing in the queue formed before the Hall of Bounty, waiting beside her grandmother until they reached the Ministrants doling out their meager rations. Before her training with Killian, she’d also loved running around the back streets playing hide-and-capture with fellow Earaqi children.
“The Hall of Bounty’s located on the north side of Commoner’s Row.” She spoke in a slow, contemplative voice. “The front entrance faces the main avenue, which means it’s the most likely point for the enemy to attack.”
Ormroth nodded. “Side and rear entrances?”
“One on the east side,” Issa said. She had nearly broken her arm there a day before her tenth nameday, wrapped up in chasing her neighbor’s grandson. “That street that feeds from Commoner’s Row to that entrance is wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast.” She scrunched up her face. “I can’t remember any rear entrances, and the west wall is solid stone.”
“Understood.” Ormroth turned to Hykos. “Your thoughts, Archateros?”
Hykos frowned. “I’m willing to gamble that the enemy has split their forces to besiege both entrances.” He shot a glance at Issa. “Which of the two is more defensible?”
Issa summoned a memory of the last time she’d stood in line for rations, more than three years ago. “The front entrance is barred by a door of solid oak affixed to a steel railing, likely with a heavy locking bar. But its breadth means it’s more vulnerable to assault than the smaller side gate.”
During her lessons among the Keeper’s Blades, Invictus Dyrkton had taught her that smaller entrances could be more easily defended. Doors and windows were vulnerabilities in solid walls, weaknesses that could be exploited by attackers and thus required more effort to protect.
Ormroth nodded. “Then tell me, Prototopoi, if you were trying to capture the hall, where would you concentrate your assault?”
The question took Issa by surprise—not that she lacked an answer, but that Ormroth had asked it in the first place.
“The front,” she said without hesitation. “The defenders will be forced to divide their assault between the two, but the main entrance is the more vulnerable point.”
“Leaving a smaller force on the east side of the hall.” Ormroth nodded. “That, then, is where we will concentrate our assault. If we can clear a path to the east door, we will give the Indomitables trapped within a path to escape.”
“Sir, if I may suggest a plan of attack?” Issa spoke, her confidence growing. Ormroth had proven himself willing to listen to her advice; perhaps he’d consider her strategy.
The Ypertatos gave a permissive wave. “I’m listening.”
“If we attack while all of the besiegers are concentrated on the hall, we may very well find ourselves outnumbered. But I have an idea that may be able to draw off a significant number. However…” She hesitated now.
“Speak,” Ormroth commanded.
“It involves a great deal of r
isk to a small number of our company,” Issa said.
Ormroth’s brow furrowed. “Yet you believe that it’s worth the peril?”
“If it works, yes.”
“Tell me this idea, Prototopoi,” Ormroth said, “but the final decision will be mine.”
Issa explained her plan. As she spoke, the furrows in Ormroth’s brow deepened.
He tugged on his tight-braided chin beard. “Splitting our forces like that could diminish the effectiveness of the attack.”
“I understand,” Issa said, “which is why I suggest only a small contingent splits off. No more than five or ten. Enough to draw their attention but not enough to weaken our attack.”
“I presume you intend to lead this small company?” Ormroth cocked an eyebrow.
Issa straightened. “I wouldn’t commit anyone to a danger I wasn’t willing to face myself.”
“An honorable sentiment, one worthy of a Keeper’s Blade.” Approval shone in Ormroth’s eyes. “And yet, I believe we have another better-suited to the task.” He turned to the column. “Tiaten!”
The Blade who shouldered to the front appeared to be in her thirties, with a heart-shaped face, dark eyes, and close-cropped hair. “Ypertatos?”
Ormroth relayed Issa’s strategy. “The Long Keeper has blessed you with the gift of speed, making you the choice to command the company. You may choose the Indomitables you believe best-suited.”
“Sir!” came a voice from the rear of the column, “I’d like to volunteer.”
“Me, too,” echoed a second voice.
Issa’s gut clenched as she recognized the two speakers. Enyera and Rilith, both Earaqi caste, the fastest of her trainees.
Enyera shot Issa a tight smile. “Issa will agree that there’s no one faster than us.”
Ormroth turned to her with a questioning gaze, and Issa nodded.
“So be it,” he said, his tone solemn. “You will accompany—”
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