Wu headed to the Street of the Gods and Dorin trailed after. Long before they got there he realized whom the fellow had in mind and he sighed his distaste. Gods, him. The self-righteous, holier-than-thou prick himself. They found the old mausoleum; it was now at the centre of a larger section of occupied temples and yards all thronged with what appeared to be adherents or refugees. Families squatted beneath canopies in the street. The mausoleum itself was now more of a shrine. Burning votive candles crowded the doorway and a horde of kneeling worshippers choked any access.
Wu planted his walking stick and addressed a shawled woman nearby. ‘We are looking for the acolyte of Hood here. Dassem. Have you—’
‘The holy Sword of Hood?’
Wu and Dorin shared a glance, and Dorin looked to the sky. ‘Ah, yes . . . that Sword of Hood.’
‘He is out in the fields sending off the dead.’
‘Why of course he is,’ Wu said, offering a smile.
‘Thank you.’ They headed for the west Gate of the Sunset, now thrown open, its siege damage being repaired by carpenters and stonemasons. The heavyset Hengan female masons appeared to be just as husky as their male counterparts. A large crowd filled the fields to the immediate west. Here had been opened a mass grave for all the fallen of the siege, Kanese and Hengan alike. City bureaucrats might have initiated it, but the citizens followed the orders of one man overseeing the mass interment, the acolyte of Hood.
Wu wended his way through the crowd to where Dassem was leading hundreds of kneeling mourners in a prayer for the dead. Wu bowed his head, tapping his walking stick to the ground. Dorin lowered his gaze in deference.
When it was over, and the mourners clambered to their feet, Wu approached Dassem. The Sword of Hood spared them one glance then turned away to give instructions to a crowd of workers. Once this was done the young man headed off, ignoring them.
Somehow Wu managed to slip up to his side, Dorin kicking along in his wake, hands on his belt. ‘What can you possibly want?’ Dassem asked Wu. ‘I doubt you’ve come to offer up your respects,’ and he shot Dorin a glare. Dorin offered a tight smile.
‘It is not what I want,’ Wu began, ‘but what I can offer.’
‘And that is?’ Dassem stopped suddenly. He bent to an old woman on her knees, overcome by grief. ‘Take my arm, mother.’
The old woman grasped hold of his arm and rose unsteadily. ‘He is gone!’ she cried.
‘So too shall we all,’ Dassem said gently.
‘This is reassuring?’ Wu murmured to Dorin.
But the old woman nodded, ‘Yes, yes. It is just so hard . . .’
‘They do not suffer. It is we who suffer.’
The old woman patted Dassem’s arm as he helped her along. Dorin could not help rolling his eyes. The acolyte sat her in the shade of a hedgerow then straightened to the unwelcome intruders. ‘You are still here?’
‘Yes,’ Wu said. ‘How would you like all the funds you wish to glorify your god?’
‘Hood cares nothing for coin.’
‘No, but he might like a roof over his head. Say, a very large one trimmed in gold?’
‘You cannot bribe death,’ Dassem answered, and walked past them.
Wu pulled a hand down his face and threw an exasperated look to Dorin, who mouthed, I know . . .
Dassem was now in conversation with the young girl Dorin had seen sleeping in the mausoleum. She obviously bore Dal Hon blood in her wild kinky hair and dark nut-brown hue. She was saying, ‘The farmer refuses to allow us to open the new pit.’
Dassem nodded. ‘Tell him that the Sword of Hood says he should be honoured.’
She bowed. ‘I will tell him so.’
When the girl jogged off Wu pushed forward once more. ‘We offer to acknowledge the worship of Hood in Heng.’
Dassem paused, turned to them. ‘How can you make such assurances?’
Wu opened his arms. ‘Well, when you help us take the city we will do so.’
Dassem shook his head. ‘I will not help you.’ He turned to go.
‘Even to further the worship of Hood?’
Dassem halted once more. He looked Wu up and down. ‘A god needs your help, does he? Rather arrogant, don’t you think?’
‘You should know,’ Dorin snapped.
Dassem pursed his lips, eyeing him. Behind the fellow’s back, Wu frantically gestured for Dorin’s silence.
‘I am busy with my true work,’ the Sword said, and walked off.
Wu came to Dorin’s side. ‘Thank you very much.’
Dorin watched the crowd part for the man; how many reached out to touch him as he passed; how some even fell to their knees before him and how he set his hand on the heads of these, as if in blessing. The sight of it sickened him. ‘Condescending prick.’
‘With reason, perhaps.’
‘What now?’
Wu started for the city. As he walked along he used his walking stick to flick clots of dirt from his path. ‘I am of the opinion that we steal a turn from Chulalorn’s generals. I believe they had the right idea in bypassing all obstacles and striking straight for the head, so to speak.’
Dorin nodded. ‘I agree.’
‘If we succeed, then there remains nothing to argue over.’
‘Agreed. When?’
‘Soon. Within the morrow?’
‘Two days. I need to rest and ready myself.’
‘Very good. I will work on our approach. I understand there are various hidden ways into the temple precincts.’
‘Done. I assume you are hiding us now?’
‘Yes. We should stay hidden from now on – the obvious assumption will be that we’ve fled. As any sane fugitives would.’
‘So you weren’t hiding me that night?’
‘Well, you walked out, didn’t you?’
Dorin scratched his chin. ‘Well . . . I suppose I did, didn’t I?’
Chapter 22
THEY TIMED THEIR entrance for dusk. Dorin had slept most of the day; when the time came to set out he felt fully rested and recuperated. He – and, he assumed, Wu – had given no one any word of their plans or intent. They merely set out. They said nothing to Rheena, or the troop of followers, not even letting them know where they were going. Dorin assumed that she’d simply taken charge, as she should. After all, neither he nor Wu had any particular interest in running the actual day-to-day operations anyway.
Wu led the way, and Dorin was content to let him do so. Truth was, he now knew that any time the fellow appeared to be leading the way he was actually following at a safe distance. Dorin kept an eye on the streets and surroundings, scanning for threats. He assumed Wu was actively hiding their location. He now understood it was second nature for the shifty fellow, hunted or not.
The route took them by a roundabout way to the rich central precincts, close by the grounds of the inner temple, which stood next to the palace and shared its privileged position. The entrance was a lesser-travelled access of servants and the lowest ranked functionaries. Dorin waited while Wu scouted ahead, cloaked in shadow. By this means they steadily penetrated into the palace grounds. The wreckage of the recent fighting was still impressive. It must have been a ferocious battle here for the throne room itself. Yet Wu’s route bypassed that main part of the palace, and it became clear to Dorin that they were headed for the Protectress’s personal sanctum, the city’s domed cynosure.
‘Why here?’ he whispered to the mage as they hid in a side gallery.
‘She rests within.’
‘Says who?’
‘My sources.’
‘You trust them?’
‘I trust their greed.’
Dorin grunted his agreement. ‘Very well. Now?’
‘Now we wait.’
Dorin sat back, crossing his arms. This he understood. He had been trained in resting readiness. ‘When?’
‘When I sense it is all clear.’
‘Why can’t you just take a look?’
The Dal Hon youth, in his charade
of an elder, drew together his already wrinkled grey brows. ‘I cannot. There is only light inside that dome.’
Dorin snorted at that. Amazing. Some sort of Temple of Light, he imagined. Or a temple to the Protectress herself, as after her demonstration of might she was now quite openly worshipped as the patron deity of Heng. Much to the priests of Burn’s outrage. Yet something of that troubled him, annoyingly.
They waited while night patrols passed by. Finally, Wu nodded to him and he uncrossed his arms, knives already in his hands. Wu crossed to a corridor that led to a small door that opened on to the temple. The scars of the past fighting marred the walls here, but much less so than in the administrative wing.
Wu was still for a moment, then he cast Dorin a significant look, and nodded. Dorin pushed open the door and the two entered.
It was a broad empty domed chamber, dimly lit by a sort of formless glow that covered the entire room. At its centre someone sat hunched beneath a blanket. Dorin paused; this was not right. He had been convinced of it the moment they entered the temple. But Wu glanced back at him, sending him a silent question. He raised his hands, uneasy, yet unable to say exactly why.
Was it because this was just too easy? But that was a ridiculous cliché. Assassinations that are properly planned should unfold easily. Proper preparation and all that . . .
Wu, however, obviously shared nothing of his disquiet. The mage sauntered onward, drawing a walking stick from within his belt – a real walking stick of wood this time – and swinging it about. Dorin was beginning to get a feel for the fellow: the stick appeared whenever he felt at ease, or confident. Perhaps, dared he say . . . cocky?
He had no choice but to follow along, hunched, craning his neck, knives in hand.
It was the Protectress after all – Dorin had seen her a few times. He’d been half dreading that it was Ho waiting for them, wrapped in the thick robes.
But it was she. Shalmanat. In the flesh. Hunched beneath thick enfolding layers of cloth. For warmth, he imagined. She stirred as they approached, straightening and blinking. She looked quite ill to him, even more pale than before, her eyes sunken and bruised.
‘So,’ she said, her voice hoarse and faint. ‘You have come.’
Wu bowed. ‘Good evening, Protectress.’
She drew a heavy breath, obviously still quite weak. ‘What is it to be?’
‘Exile, m’lady,’ Wu said. ‘If you would be so kind.’
‘Exile?’ She cast a questioning look to Dorin. ‘Is this your answer? After slaying a king I should think you would consider it nothing to remove me.’
Dorin considered the question. He felt no urge to slay her. Quite the opposite, in fact. And if their objective could be achieved without the necessity of it, so much the better. He answered her look. ‘Will you go?’
‘You would let me? What if I returned, what then?’
Wu pursed his lips as he examined his walking stick. ‘Then we would have to kill you.’
She nodded, accepting this. ‘And the mages – what of them?’
Wu shrugged. ‘They serve the city, do they not?’
Shalmanat nodded again, obviously relieved. ‘Yes. As do I . . .’ Something in her delivery of these last words raised Dorin’s hackles and he drew breath to act. ‘. . . while you I think would not.’
The dome blazed to that familiar eye-searing brightness. Dorin could not help but bring the backs of his hands to his face, hunching against the agonizing punishment. The knives blazed to glowing brands in his hands and he flinched, dropping them. All his equipment sizzled now and he danced about, tearing it all from him. He heard Wu curse and the stick clatter to the stone flags.
‘Do something!’ he called.
‘There are no shadows . . .’ Then the mage laughed, almost giggling: ‘No darkness. No shadows! I am a fool!’
A door opened and Dorin swung to the noise. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and tied it around his eyes then let his hands fall loose at his sides, waiting and listening.
Heavy flat footsteps approached. Ho. Two other lighter sets followed. Silk and the Dal Hon woman – Mara? Someone was stumbling about to his left – Wu, damn him.
Mentally, he retraced his position then took two quick steps to his right. His shin barked the stool, knocking it flying – she’d moved. No fool she. He waited then, listening once more.
‘Well,’ Wu suddenly announced to the room at large, ‘I suppose I shall have to summon my daemon now.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ the Dal Hon woman snarled.
The heavy steps approached close, so very close. Just as one last footfall came in arm’s reach Dorin edged aside, blocking the hands reaching for him. Ho grunted, his feet shifting.
‘Just grab him, Ho,’ the fop mage said. ‘We don’t have all night.’
Thank you. Dorin hadn’t quite located that one; quiet, the fop. He circled, his course taking him that way.
Ho came lumbering after.
‘I do possess a daemon,’ Wu asserted, quite affronted. ‘He is coming now and you are all in grave danger. I suggest you flee.’
‘Shut up, fool!’ Mara warned again.
‘No killing here!’ Shalmanat called suddenly from a good distance off.
This time, as Ho’s last step brought him within arm’s reach, Dorin knocked aside the arms and counter-attacked with a kick to the chest that sent the burly mage stumbling backwards.
Dorin also stumbled. He staggered back towards the fop mage’s location. He heard the fellow step aside to avoid him. That was enough, and he spun, catching hold of the mage to clench the man’s throat. ‘Nobody move!’
Shocked silence followed for several heartbeats. ‘I hear anything and I’ll crush this one’s throat. What of that, Shalmanat?’
‘Please,’ the Protectress answered, ‘please . . . do not desecrate this place.’
Dorin heard true anguish in her voice. ‘What of it, Ho?’ he asked.
‘Let’s take this outside,’ Mara snarled, and a door slammed open.
Dorin realized his vision was returning as he noticed he could see the cloth pressed against his eyes. He used his shoulder to strip it from his head, all the while careful to keep a tight grip on the mage, Silk. He saw Mara marching Wu towards an exit.
‘Wait!’ Ho called, and he crossed to Mara and began tying Wu up. Dorin was chagrined to see that Ho was using his own wire to do so. He bound Wu’s hands behind his back and wound the length round his neck as well. Then he tore Wu’s jacket and wrapped it over the mage’s eyes. ‘You’ll not slip away this time,’ he said, satisfied, and urged Mara onward.
Dorin followed, hands at Silk’s neck, his thumbs pressed into the man’s larynx. ‘Where are the other two,’ he demanded. ‘The fire mage and Koroll?’
‘They are following the Kan retreat,’ Ho answered behind him, helping Shalmanat.
‘This way leads to the river,’ the Protectress said as the little procession slowly shuffled along. ‘You two offered me exile and so I return the offer. Go with your lives and never return.’
Wu mumbled something hoarsely and Mara shook him. ‘What was that? Where is your daemon now, fool?’
‘It’s rather late,’ Wu gurgled.
Mara shook him again.
They reached a tunnel exit and Mara pushed it open. It led to the mud shore beneath a set of piers. It was the depth of night. ‘Get a boat,’ Shalmanat told Ho and he lumbered off through the mud. ‘We have a city to rebuild,’ the Protectress continued, hugging herself. She pulled her thick robes tighter. ‘We cannot waste any more time on you two.’ She peered aside. ‘Ah . . .’
Ho returned towing a blackened, half-burned old rowboat that he drew up before Mara and Wu. Mara pushed Wu in to fall on his back, where he writhed mumbling curses through the wire at his neck.
Ho waved Dorin in. ‘Leave Silk here.’
Dorin set one foot into the shallow boat. ‘I think not.’ He forced Silk in with him. The mage reluctantly submitted.
‘You
haven’t escaped yet,’ Shalmanat warned.
‘Exactly. I’ll release him when we’ve passed the Outer Round.’
‘We will be watching,’ Ho warned.
Dorin pushed off and the boat began drifting downriver. He pointed to the oars and urged Silk down. ‘Row.’
The mage appeared ready to say something – to curse him perhaps – but he bit his tongue, subsiding. He set to mounting the oars. Dorin worked on releasing Wu, careful not to turn his back on Silk as he did so.
Wu sat up, rubbing his wrists and neck. ‘Well,’ he said, peering about. He slapped his hands to his thighs. ‘It is night. I am free. I suggest we return to . . .’
‘No,’ Dorin said.
Wu blinked at him. ‘What? No? Whatever do you mean?’
‘I mean no.’
‘We’re not beaten, you know. That was a stand-off.’
Silk laughed at this as he rowed.
Dorin shot him a glance, shook his head. ‘No. There are too many of them. Six if you count the Protectress.’ He sat back, but kept one eye on the mage. ‘Overreach. We’re not ready.’ And he surprised himself as, unbidden, there arose in his thoughts, a silent yet. He recalled the warning given him by that female mage – what had been her name? Something like Nightcold? ‘We were reckless.’
‘You’re lucky to be alive,’ Silk muttered.
‘Shut up and row. The same could be said for you. We’re alive because we offered exile to Shalmanat and she responded in kind.’ He glanced to Wu. ‘Your instincts saved us there.’
Wu inclined his head in acknowledgement. He drummed his fingers on the blackened wood of the gunnel. ‘Where is he!’
‘Who?’
‘My daemon, of course.’
At the oars Silk snorted a laugh. Dorin looked Wu up and down. ‘You don’t have a daemon.’
Wu appeared quite offended as he drew himself tall and tried to straighten his jacket only to discover that it was gone. ‘I do so. He just doesn’t come when I call. He’s not well trained.’
Silk was shaking his head.
The river gate of the eastern Outer Round was approaching. Teams of labourers were arriving for the day’s work even as Silk rowed them between its wrecked stone arches. Dorin gestured the city mage over. ‘Okay, get out.’ Silk headed the bows for the shore. Dorin shook a finger. ‘No. Now. Jump.’
Dancer's Lament: Path to Ascendancy Book 1 Page 45