The leaders reached the foot of the wall while the stragglers were still labouring up the track behind them to find their route blocked. Gradually movement ceased, and the fine fellows in their shining helmets squeezed through to the front to survey the scene.
It amused me to watch them, as they looked around at the unpromising terrain. There was a broad area of flat land immediately below the wall, but otherwise the only level ground was the track itself, wide enough for perhaps four or five men abreast. On either side, the land fell away in treacherous scree slopes and jagged boulders with sheer sides.
Xando appeared at my shoulder. “It will be interesting to observe these men make camp.”
I laughed. “They are not all men.” He raised an eyebrow at that, but Tre’annatha had some strange ideas about women. About everything, in fact. They were a strange people. “No, they cannot camp here. No fresh water, no fodder for the horses, nowhere to dig latrines, no room for picket lines. You could perhaps fit the Most Noble Commander’s pavilion here, but not much else.”
“The Most Noble Commander? Which one is that?”
“The one on the splendid black horse.”
“I see many black horses, but to my regret I have not the competence to judge their splendour.”
That made me laugh again, glad that his slight attempt at humour could raise my spirits so easily. I should have been in despair, but I was resigned now to my fate. I had been running for so long, but now I had been caught, as I always feared. I could run no further.
“Do you see the banner with red and gold stripes? The black horse just to the left carries the Most Noble Commander Birin, from the Princedom of the Most Mighty Kru Hrin of the hill country. The man on the white horse to his right, with the green, blue and yellow banner – he is the Greater Sun General of Caxangur. The third general of the city.”
The third general. They were taking this seriously, then. It was entertaining to see them working together like this. Such very different people. The Caxanguri methodical and practical, polite to a fault, punctiliously applying the law, paying a salary even to the street sweepers, treating everyone the same. The Hrandish wild and savage, without manners or civilisation, their law applied at arrow-point. They treated women like animals, and still kept slaves in the fighting pits, for the young warriors to test their prowess. Yet here the two armies were, side by side, wearing uniforms that differed only in minor detail, inherited from the long dissolved Empire. United in their pursuit of me.
He was silent, digesting that. Then he said, “You know these people. Do you know why they are here?”
“They are here for me.”
“And what under the sun and all the moons did you do, that these people send an army to find you?”
I shrugged. “Long story.”
“I am quite at leisure to listen.”
I shook my head in amusement. “I think you are about to hear it, although not from me.”
I pointed towards a number of horses milling about just below the wall. Xando clearly had no military understanding, and stared blankly where my finger directed him. Eventually, most of the horses drew back, but one, a herald with the insignia of Caxangur, stood still as an open space appeared around him. Or her.
The herald lifted a speaking trumpet and began to speak. A man after all. Although he was almost directly below us, his voice sounded distant. Still, it was audible, which was all that mattered.
“Hear now the will of his All-Powerful Highness, King Craxtor, the third of that glorious name, of the great and wondrous royal city of Caxangur.”
“By the Spirit, get on with it,” Xando muttered, making me choke with laughter again.
“You are required by the laws of this land to hand over the person of Flethyssanya Dre’allussina of Mesanthia to answer the serious charges laid against her, namely, murder, arson, destruction of property, theft, failure to submit to questioning, failure to report deaths, failure to pay taxes due, failure to pay compensation due, failure to maintain the proper conduct required of a non-native resident, and leaving the city without a permit. You have until noon tomorrow to comply. Failure will result in severe penalties. This is the will of his All-Powerful Highness, King Craxtor, the third of that glorious name, of the great and wondrous royal city of Caxangur.”
The herald turned his horse, and stepped back into the throng. He was lucky none of us were armed, for he was so close that a single bowman would have found him hard to miss. Or a flicker. Quite a number of the soldiers were within range. Bad tactics, I thought it.
All along the wall, the mine folk were exchanging puzzled glances. One or two glanced my way, wondering, but I think most assumed it was a mistake.
I thought that was the end of it, at least for now, but Petreon stepped forward to lean over the parapet.
“You can all go home!” he yelled, his voice surprisingly strong, echoing off the peaks around us. “No one of that name here. You’re wasting your time.”
And with that he turned and stomped away down the steps, with the others drifting after him, chattering excitedly.
Xando leaned over and whispered in my ear. “So you left without a permit – how wicked!” He grinned at me. “But he might at least have got your titles correct.”
~~~~~
We all gathered in the kitchen of the Main House, crowded round the table while Petreon stood at its head.
“Whoever they are looking for, she’s not here,” he said firmly. “They will get tired of perching on a cliff edge and leave soon enough. Nothing to worry us.”
“How do you know?” one of the male companion-servants said. “Many of us go by a different name now. This Flessanya whatever-it-is could be here right now, and we wouldn’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter. Old names no longer exist. You leave your names behind when you come here. Besides, these people have no jurisdiction over the mines.”
“They have swords, though.”
“Which are outside the wall. They can’t get in. Don’t lose any sleep over them.”
“But—”
“Enough!” He turned and stumped out, his boots thudding.
As soon as he was gone, a babble of chatter broke out. I took the opportunity to slip out unobserved. Well, almost; I found Xando shadowing me. He said nothing, though. He was a restful man in so many ways, not bothering me with pointless questions.
I made my way back to my house, for I knew Petreon would want to talk to me. He was waiting, sitting on a bench outside his own house, arms folded, long legs stretched out.
“Come,” he said, as soon as I was close enough to hear him. And a nod to Xando. “You too.”
He rose and went into his house and we followed. Xando gazed around, for he’d never been in there before, but this floor was much like the other two in its row, although perhaps with better quality furniture. The Master selected the best, I suppose.
We went upstairs, and here was the first difference. Petreon’s house had three floors, and the middle floor was divided into two rooms, one he used as an office for his desk and paperwork, and the other as a meeting room, with a polished table and matching chairs, where he discussed matters with the mine inspectors on their annual visits.
We went into the meeting room and Petreon waved us to chairs to one side of the table, while he himself sat at its head. We left our thrower’s coats over the backs of two other chairs and seated ourselves.
“You are safe here,” he said without preamble. “They cannot get in, and the snows will be here in a couple of moons or so.”
“It is not even mid-summer,” Xando protested.
“Well, three moons at most. Although the rain will get them first. There is no shelter out there.”
“They bring their own shelter,” I said. “They have pavilions for the commanders and basic tents for the common soldiers. They have the whole track to use. They will be very strung out, and the supply lines will be long, but if they can keep themselves in food, fodder and fuel, they can
stay here indefinitely.”
“But not through the winter, surely?” Xando asked.
“Unlikely. They would need more clothing and blankets, and more food. It could be done, with enough men to keep the drifts at bay, but I think they will not attempt it. These are hot country soldiers, they don’t deal well with snow.” I tapped my fingers on the table impatiently. “But it hardly matters. I cannot allow you to protect me. You have the welfare of scores of people to consider, Petreon. I shall give myself up to them tomorrow.”
“No.” Petreon’s voice was firm.
“You cannot withstand a siege, and—”
“We can. Plenty of food, enough for years, with care, and they can’t get in.”
“Not over the wall, perhaps, but if they climbed over the mountain—”
Petreon shook his head. “Not possible.”
“A skilled climber—”
“No. The mine repels them. It isn’t just the wall, the whole place has a defensive barrier. Can’t climb the wall, can’t lean ladders against it, can’t climb the mountain, can’t throw things over the wall…”
“No arrows? Rocks?” Xando said.
“Nothing. It’s been tried. So we sit and wait.”
“They could build a siege tower,” I said. Then, seeing their blank faces, “A wooden tower to stand next to the wall. When it’s high enough, they put a bridge across onto the wall. They could do that, couldn’t they?”
Petreon nodded slowly. “Could, yes. But they would have to drag all that wood up here, then build it. We won’t sit and watch. We’d burn it down.” He shrugged. “They can’t get in. You’re safe.”
We were all silent. I wasn’t sure I had Petreon’s confidence.
“Well,” he said eventually. “So is there any truth in all that? The list of crimes? You really do any of that?”
“Oh yes.”
“All of it?”
“Well – some of it I wasn’t aware was a crime, but yes, all of it.”
“Who did you murder?”
“It hardly matters,” Xando burst out. “She has left her past behind, you said so yourself, Petreon.”
“True enough. So she doesn’t have to answer.”
But I did. If Petreon was going to shelter me from the army beyond the wall, he deserved to know what exactly he was getting into, and who he was dealing with. It was all very brave to talk about no jurisdiction, but, magic walls or not, there is a certain amount of unquestioned authority in a sword, backed up by a couple of hundred other swords.
I took a deep breath, and clutched my hands to stop them shaking.
“I killed about twenty people. I burned them to death when I set fire to the villa. Amongst them were my father, my husband and the son of the Most Mighty Prince Kru Hrin.”
“Ah,” said Petreon.
~~~~~
All that afternoon, the mountains echoed to the sound of hammers and shouted commands, as the soldiers laboured to create some sort of camp. The Caxangur contingent was more efficient, and by dusk they had erected their commander’s pavilion and picketed the horses, organising the rest of the troops to stations out of sight.
The Kru Hrin men – and I was confident they at least were all men – had been less successful. The pavilion erectors had been defeated by the ever-present wind, and the senior commanders, princelings all, were arguing loudly about their right to space on the open, level space before the wall. It would have been entertaining if they had not been there to drag me away for execution. I suspected that I would not get further than around the first outcrop of rock before someone would have my head off.
Of course they had no idea I was now a thrower. Would that stop them? I wasn’t sure. If they had any sense, it would, but I wasn’t sure that any of these people had any sense. They had been sent to fulfil a single purpose, and fulfil it they would, even if the moon should fall again.
Petreon ate in silence at evening table. If I hadn’t been able to see how calm his mind was, I would have been very afraid, but he gave no sign of resentment towards me. If anything, he was amused.
The women were jittery, but that was to be expected. I read fear in their minds, but for once it was not directed at me. Some of them had no good memories of soldiers, and were terrified that we were about to be overrun. One or two of them, though, were all for going over the wall to have a little fun.
“The crane!” I said, in sudden panic. “If anyone lets the cage down to them, they could get in that way.”
Petreon grinned. “I have hidden the winding handle. No one can betray us.”
Xando grinned in return, and clapped Petreon on the back, but I was annoyed with myself for not thinking of the possibility sooner. I had read enough military history, there was no excuse for such sloppiness.
It was Xando’s turn to share my bed that night, and he was uncharacteristically emotional. He hugged me tight, rocking me as if I were a child.
“I will not let them take you!” he said fiercely. “I am not defenceless, I can fight them. They shall not have you.”
It unnerved me to see him so agitated. He was always so unruffled and serene, and his calmness had kept me on smooth ground during the turbulence of the last few quarter moons. Now his distress spilled over into me, bringing me close to tears. It was a long time before either of us slept.
~~~~~
The whole mine community gathered on the wall at noon the next day. There was a steady rain falling, and the camp below us was bedraggled and miserable. The commanders’ helmet plumes drooped, and the pennants which had flapped colourfully in the breeze yesterday hung limp and forlorn today. Water dripped off the pavilions and swirled in rivulets through the camp.
The commanders stood unspeaking in front of the Caxangur pavilion. To either side stood clusters of swordsmen, no doubt to rush to the defence of the nobles if needed. The horses had all vanished, presumably taken to a more sheltered spot further down the mountain.
The herald splashed towards the wall, and lifted his speaking trumpet.
“Hear now the will of his All-Powerful Highness, King Craxtor, the third of that glorious name, of the great and wondrous royal city of Caxangur.” Beside me, Xando sighed loudly. “You are required by the laws of this land to hand over the person of Flethyssanya Dre’allussina of Mesanthia to answer—”
“Fuck off!” Petreon yelled down at him. “You have no authority here. Fuck off to your swamps.”
A long pause. “Do you refuse to comply with the will of his All-Powerful Highness, King Craxtor, the third—”
“Tell his All-Powerfulness to go fuck himself!”
Xando shook with silent laughter, and I was tempted to laugh myself. In any other time and place, the king’s army would inspire a healthy degree of respect, but here, with Petreon’s confidence infecting me, I felt invincible.
The herald lowered his trumpet and turned to squelch his way back to the cluster of golden helmets. A sudden movement amongst the swordsmen drew my attention.
“Archers! Get down! Get down!”
Before anyone could move, an arrow hurtled through the air. Then another, and a third. They were aimed directly at Petreon. The archers were good, I’ll give them that. Presumably they intended him to pay the price for his insolence.
I don’t think anyone could have moved quickly enough to avoid being hit. Those bows must have been primed ready, and again I cursed myself for my stupidity in not anticipating such a thing. My warning was too late.
And then the air crackled, like a burst of lightening by our heads, the view shimmered and the arrows vanished. Just gone. Not a speck of dust or a sliver of wood or a single feather was left behind.
Petreon gasped, and then snorted loudly. Then he curled up in a spasm of near-hysterical laughter, hands resting on knees.
Xando burst into his own language, a long rattle of short words, but whether he was swearing or expressing admiration was impossible to say.
I was too shocked to speak. For all Petreon’s confi
dence, I’d never really believed that the mine’s magic would protect us. A burst of euphoria coursed through me. It was true! The army could not get to me after all. For all their fine words, for all their display of power, they could not get in.
But neither could I get out.
15: The Mountain
There was an air of celebration at evening table that day. It was as if we’d won some historic victory and defeated a great foe, when in fact we had done nothing but hurl ill-advised abuse at the herald, insult King Craxtor and watch tamely while the mine itself defended us. For all our jubilation, we were protected only by the power of mages five thousand years dead.
And still the initial problem remained unresolved. If the combined might of two armies had no power to winkle me out of my safe cave, I had no power to escape, either. I was trapped here.
I went to see Petreon at his office the next morning, Xando my shadow, as always.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Nothing to talk about,” Petreon said. But he saw the set expression on my face, and waved us both through to the meeting room.
“I know we are safe here,” I began. “At least for now. Our visitors have no means to force me out, nor can they get in. But we cannot sit here and wait until they get bored or cold or sick or run out of fodder for the horses.”
“Course we can,” Petreon said.
“No. Having an army on the doorstep means that we are cut off from the outside world. The messages cannot get through, the mulers cannot get through and—”
“Doesn’t matter. We have enough food for years. Don’t need fuel. Won’t get sick. We manage fine through the winter. They’ll be gone by then.”
“But don’t you see?” I said gently. “It’s not just us. There are other mines. There are mulers and all the support people scattered about the mountains. There is Crenton Port. We cannot be touched, but they are vulnerable.”
The Magic Mines of Asharim Page 14