I sat down at the table. “Of course.”
“Very good.” He started toward his chamber but I called out, “Captain?”
I expected irritation, but instead he simply turned around and gave me a level look. “Archivist?”
“I… we are in some trouble here, aren’t we?” I tried to keep any fear out of my voice. “What I mean is, everything that happened today, it—”
“Does not bode well for us, no. But we have a diminished but still formidable ally in the deposed Emperor, and confederates in some of the other Towers who questioned Cynead and his agenda. And that was before today. While the Emperor has appropriated something exceptional today, he did so at great cost—even staunch supporters are likely to chafe at having their own potency abruptly amputated.” He gave what was likely intended to be a reassuring smile, though it was far too twitchy to accomplish that. “Do not despair, Arki. We are not lost. Yet.” Then he winked and walked into his chamber, calling out over his shoulder. “Rouse me when it is time.”
As ever, I was amazed and envious of his ability to rest when things were at their most turbulent. I had no interest in looking through those dusty tomes just then, but it was an order, not a request, and I hoped it would prove a distraction from thinking on precipices, betrayals, and vengeful mighty monarchs.
So I opened my writing case, unlocked the chest, and continued where I’d left off, doing my best to focus.
When the slave boy summoned Braylar an hour later, I hadn’t made much progress, and certainly hadn’t uncovered anything new. But after he left, it wasn’t long before I encountered more absorbing information. And as the hours wore on and the tallow candle burned low, and my food came and grew cold, mostly untouched as I was so excited, I uncovered still more.
I was shaken awake, and not gently. Opening my eyes, disoriented, I found myself asleep on the table, a puddle of drool by my mouth, a page stuck to my lip. The other pages and inkwell were still in front of me, the quill still in my hand, fingers stained, muscles cramping, everything between my temples pounding.
Braylar rapped on the table, doing my head no favors as I slowly lifted it up. “Pack your things. We go.”
“Go?” I asked, wiping off my mouth and looking out the window. It was the middle of the night, or at least not dawn yet. “Where? Why? What’s happened?”
“I will explain as we move. Pack your things. Now. We won’t be returning, so leave nothing behind.”
I stood up, reeling, feeling almost drunk. Eating might have helped. I took a drink of warm water out of my cup. “Not returning? I don’t—”
But the captain had gone into his chamber and either didn’t hear me or was in no mood to answer. It was only when he came back out that I noticed he was in full armor from head to toe, the splinted vambraces, mail byrnie, lamellar cuirass, weapons belts. He had his helm with the aventail in the crook of his arm, and of course Bloodsounder at his side.
I was folding up my writing case and stopped. “I discovered something!”
“I do hope it was a sense of urgency.”
“What? No. In the texts! I read throughout the night—”
“So I gathered.”
“And there were three more references to Sentries, to weapons like Bloodsounder.”
Braylar stopped by the door, turned and looked at me. “Presumably like Bloodsounder. We have no proof.”
“No,” I admitted. “But the Emperor didn’t have any proof that whatever rites or rituals he discovered in his texts about syphoning control of the Memoridons worked either, but they did. And now he does. Have proof, that is.”
He considered that briefly. “So then, out with it, quickly. What is it you think you’ve discovered?”
I started going through my notes, flipping over parchment and scanning, and he stopped me. “Quick. Ly. Summarize.”
Putting the pages down, I replied, “Well, remember I mentioned the guardians disappeared from the temples, taking the weapons with them.”
“I do. And I remember telling you they more likely died or got lost in a bog.”
“Well, there are two accounts in here of guardians who returned. After crossing the Godveil.”
I waited for that to sink in, elicit some kind of reaction. I might as well have been talking to his helm. “And this is proof of something how, exactly? Tales recorded by ale-addled priests or foolish boys. Nothing more.”
“Perhaps. Always possible. But in one account, there were a dozen witnesses, notarized in the record, who watched the guardian, Frustwin, pass through, return for a time, but also cross back over. Only when he did, he took one of the underpriests with him.”
Braylar did seem taken aback by that. If only slightly. “With him? How?”
“The sentry. The weapon. It was some kind of key, and it protected the guardian and the underpriest. They both passed through the Veil. Neither died.”
He twitch-sneered. “According to the tale, which was likely found between bestiaries full of goblins and a tome of prophecies that failed to come true.”
“According to the notarized tale that was sanctioned and included in formal temple records.”
“And when he allegedly returned the first time in front of all these witnesses, is there a narrative of what he claims to have seen on the other side?”
I hedged. “There was. Though it was confusing. The temple guardian was overcome by fervor or fever or—”
“Unadulterated madness. Or the person who jotted down this episode was. Anything else?”
“You did ask me to look for references like this, Captain. I am simply recording what you ordered me to. And while it isn’t conclusive of anything—”
“Anything. Else.”
I sighed. “Yes, actually. There was another priest named Vortniss who must have come across Anroviak’s writing, or Untwik’s. And while he lacked the zeal and obsession with the subject, was actively skeptical in fact—”
“A healthy perspective.”
“Vortniss was still gripped by what he discovered. And he continued hunting for any similar evidence of controlling memory witches. He made it sound like an academic exercise, or indulgence he allowed himself, but it was clear the more he compiled, the more invested he was. And while the memoir is incomplete, it sounds as if he was on the brink of creating something, building on what Untwik discovered, or maybe inspired by something else—there aren’t enough details. But he mentions “frames” several times. And—”
“Plural?” Braylar narrowed his eyes. “Frames? You are certain?”
“Yes. Well, as certain as I can be. I would like to go through it more closely, and I would really like to find the remainder of that memoir.”
“Now that is interesting.” Braylar pulled the door open. “But we have a road to ride. Gather your satchel and case. Lock everything down tight. Syldoon will transport the chests to the wagon. Meet me in the stables. We leave.”
And with that, he was gone. I continued packing up my things, shaking my head. Such a meager collection. Even journeyman craftsmen had more to carry on their backs than I did. It seemed whenever I began thinking I was going to settle down somewhere for a prolonged length of time, it was proven illusory faster each time. The idea of settling in Sunwrack as a complete outsider was daunting, and not an especially pleasant prospect, but I assumed that was going to be my life for the foreseeable future, at least until the captain and his crew were sent on campaign somewhere. I never imagined that would happen less than a tenday after arriving, and possibly permanently.
Now… leaving without changing clothes more than a few times, we were heading into a dark and uncertain future that surely didn’t bode well.
When it came to the Syldoon, I simply needed to stop forming expectations at all. No matter what, they were destined to be thwarted.
I arrived in the extensive stables, expecting to see Braylar and his small retinue, but instead found what must have been close to one hundred Syldoon in armor with their horses saddled, gro
oms running everywhere, and several wagons harnessed to teams of horses. Wherever we were going, it was a lot of us.
Vendurro hunched down as he stepped out of the covered portion of a wagon, hailed me, and then sat on the bench in front.
As I walked over, I noticed there were only a few lanterns lit in the very back of the stables, and immediately thought about the eyes that might be on us right now. If we weren’t doing anything illicit, we were at least being awfully secretive. Which seemed perfectly appropriate for the Jackal Tower.
And perfectly likely to get us all killed.
I climbed up and sat down next to Vendurro. He bit a boiled egg in half, offered me one with the shell still on it. Starving, I took it and started peeling. “What is going on here? The captain wasn’t especially forthcoming.”
“No,” he replied, spewing bits of yolk. “Forthcoming ain’t really Cap’s thing.”
“He only said we were leaving, and it sounded pretty final.”
“Expect it would.” Vendurro plopped the other half in his mouth.
“So it’s true? We’re leaving Sunwrack for good?”
“It ain’t false.” He managed not to spray any more egg at me.
I took a bite. Could do with some salt. Amazing that I could think about that when Jackal Tower could be crashing down around us at any moment. “So, what is happening? You are nearly as bad as the captain.”
Vendurro laughed, dusted his hands off on his knees. “Captains convened last night. That knowing look on your face tells me you knew that already.”
It was also amazing he could joke when our lives might again be hanging in the balance. He continued, “Commander Darzaak ordered Cap and a good chunk of his men out of Sunwrack.”
I looked up and down the stables again, calculating. “How many?”
“Well, small portion, really. Couple hundred.”
“That’s small?”
“Ayyup. Cap commands a thousand in the Tower.”
I had never asked, but it made sense, given how few captains Commander Darzaak had brought with him to the Caucus yesterday.
Vendurro winked. “Don’t call the rank ‘Captain of a Thousand’ for nothing.”
“But why is he, why are we, being sent off?”
“Protect Cap, for one. Keep Cynead from digging his claws in. And get word to Thumaar, for two. Commander figures Cap can do more good out there then being husked out here by Memoridons.”
“But Emperor Cynead—”
“Will think he fled, instead of turning hisself over for experiments or whatnot. Commander’s going to disavow Cap. Brand him deserter. Send a hunting party after us. Hopes to stall for time.”
“What if Cynead blames the Commander, assumes he was complicit?”
Vendurro nodded a couple of times. “Ayyup. That’s a possibility, sure as spit. Mulldoos was there, tried to light a fire under the notion we all ought to clear out now, before Cynead turns everything he got against us, wipes the Jackals out. Some support for that, but not enough.”
That was a bold move, to be certain, maybe unheard of, but not without dangerous merit as well. “Why not?”
“Jackal Tower is eight thousand strong. Just Syldoon, not counting servants and slaves. Commander figures even if Cynead is all too sure of hisself just now, and not like to expect a whole Tower to break free, moving that many troops, supplies… Wouldn’t make it halfway to the gates before the Imperial troops and Memoridons came out in force, routed us. Best bet is to sit tight, try to find a way to unravel what Cynead done, and hope Thumaar can make a play when we do.”
I looked around at Braylar’s men as they made the last of their preparations. I was accustomed to his retinue and smallish company, so this force did seem sizable. But against the Imperial forces out there in the city somewhere, only a pittance. “How many men does Cynead have in Sunwrack?” I asked, not wanting to know the answer at all.
Vendurro stopped, just about to throw another boiled egg in his mouth. “Hmmm. Fifty, maybe sixty thousand.”
Yes, if Cynead got wind we were fleeing the city, we would be annihilated. Immediately. Utterly.
Captain Killcoin rode in front of our wagon, called out to the nearest men, “We head for the eastern gate. If we encounter any Leopards or city watch that bar our way, we ride over them. If we cannot for any reason, we break for the northern gate. One way or the other, we win free of Sunwrack today. We win free. I gave you all the option to stay or to ride with me, and yet to a man, here you are. You are all fools, to be certain, but I am honored to be in your company.” That earned some chuckles and Braylar patted the quiver alongside his saddle. “It is a good day for crossbows, Syldoon. A very good day.” Then he smiled and pulled his helmet on, spreading the mail out on his shoulders and reaching underneath to buckle the helm tight.
Vendurro turned to me. “Best get in the back of the rig, Arki. Hopefully, we won’t get into any scrapes, but if we do, safer in there. Little, anyway. Stuff to take cover behind at least.”
I pulled the flap back, saw the crossbow and quiver of bolts, leaned in and pulled them to me. Vendurro got the team moving as I spanned the crossbow, then slapped the folding devil’s claw on the stock. “I may not be a crack shot, but if we get into any scrapes, I’ll be right here, shooting in the general direction of the enemy.”
He laughed, and that made my bravado feel a little less foolish. “Suit yourself. Though next time, we might need to kit you in a gambeson or boiled leather at least. That tunic’s not like to stop any kind of anything.”
Captain Killcoin and his two lieutenants led the way and we rolled out of the stables, with four dozen horsemen in front of us, some more wagons behind, and the remainder of the company following.
Dawn was nearly upon us, the clouds above the high outer wall of Sunwrack long and thin and fissured with the first hints of peach and salmon and scarlet. The only thing that wrecked the beauty of it was the wafting manure from the stables and the fact that we could all die very soon.
Our convoy made its way down the Avenue of Towers for a few blocks, but turned down a narrow street, no doubt not trusting several of the Towers we might encounter along the way. The last time we rode out at dawn, it was to ambush Hornmen in Alespell. Now, we were hoping to move unmolested through a city three times that size and avoid ambush ourselves. It was difficult not to long for the bad but not horrific odds of hunting Hornmen, especially as we had no ripper or Memoridons now.
The clomping of horseshoes and rolling of steel-rimmed wagon wheels sounded obscenely loud in the silence of the nearly deserted streets. Here and there we came across some Thurvacians, three stumbling home from a whorehouse that was leaning so much it looked ready to topple itself; a pair carrying some wooden cages filled with chickens, feathers trailing behind; two beggars on the steps of a building, arguing about something in some dialect I had never heard before; a poacher who was dragging a dead bull crab by one claw and ran into an alley with it as we approached. There were merchants of all kinds opening shops as well, setting up small bazaars, and probably burglars skulking in the shadows, but most Thurvacians ignored us, accustomed to the military might that rode or walked through their city at all hours. My heart beat faster as twice we ran into a pair of town guards, but if they thought anything was amiss, they gave no sign.
We turned down another street, heading east again, toward the gate, and while it was still a ways off, I began to hope we might actually clear Sunwrack without incident. As we passed through a huge stone arch I felt something drip on me and looked up to see the aqueduct that crossed the street high above, and I was about to say something to Vendurro when I heard the commotion ahead. The horsemen with crossbows had them up, loosing them at something ahead of us. I found myself standing, holding on to the bench. Much further up the street, there was a line of Imperial foot soldiers, armed and armored like those in the hippodrome, with banded mail, long shields and spears, and the combined quivers and bowcases on their hips. The composite bows were
all in hand now though, and the Imperial troops were shooting more quickly than Braylar’s troops could manage, the arrows striking several horses and riders in the front ranks.
One arrow flew right over us, and Vendurro pulled me back on my seat and got the team moving fast. The riders immediately in front of us turned down a side street and we followed, and I lost sight of Braylar’s men, who were holding off the Imperial infantry as we raced ahead, the horses galloping now, our wagon jumping and rocking on its springs as we picked up speed.
Ahead, I saw arrows flying down a cross street, and then a Jackal horseman came galloping round the corner, the rider with an arrow sticking through his upper arm. We slowed enough for him to report to Braylar, who then shouted an order back, relayed several times. There were more
Imperials marching in our direction down that street, and we couldn’t afford to get flanked. We were to continue riding hard, at speed.
The company set off again, arrows flying as each horseman passed the side street, and I hazarded a look—another battalion of Imperial infantry were lined up, shooting at each of us as we crossed in front of them.
An arrow thunked into the wagon a few feet behind me and another tore through the canvas covering, and then the Imperials were gone. I realized that it happened so fast, I flinched after the side street was behind us. At least our horses hadn’t been struck. Or us. I was closest, and armored in linen.
I turned to Vendurro. “Will we make it? To the gates? Will they be closed?”
His jaw was set as he hunched over, holding tight to the reins. “Can’t say, can’t say, and can’t say.”
We passed two more side streets and there were no more injured scouts or Imperials shooting at us. We were on horse and wagons and so far the Imperials were all on foot. Maybe we could outdistance any warning. Maybe we could still ride clear.
After another scout joined us, reporting something to Braylar, he led our convoy down the next side street, heading toward the eastern gate. And directly into a much larger group of Imperials a hundred yards ahead. There were several lines of infantry with bows and spears in a phalanx, and a dozen cavalry as well, one holding the double Sun and Leopard standard. There were also two Memoridons on horses in front of the soldiers. Both had scale corselets on, one with short blonde hair, the other with a crimson cloak, wielding a ranseur with what appeared to be a red tassel.
Veil of the Deserters Page 52