Sildaan, though, was thinking. ‘This is a tough country, my priest. I think we should hear the Tuali out.’
Llyron waved a hand and went to recline on a long cushion-covered couch.
‘You understand, Sildaan, I knew you would. I’m pacing up and down looking for an angle while you’re all talking of certain death and facing the unbound fury of Shorth. And I think I have one.’ Helias paused and massaged the sides of his nose with his index fingers. ‘Calaius is an impossible country to rule unless by consent. It is too big, too complex and too dangerous outside the cities. I don’t believe for one moment that the humans want to rule us for any longer than is absolutely necessary.’
‘They’ve sent another two thousand men. The mercenaries we hired were clearly given to us by this city-of-magic place,’ said Sildaan. ‘It is an invasion.’
‘It is a statement of intent and power,’ countered Helias. ‘With magic and muscle, we now know they can take our cities as and when they choose. And they can also back any future government with this power. Look at it logically. If you’re a Balaian, do you want to live here fighting every day to stay alive, or do you want to enjoy the massive wealth of Calaius using a puppet government?’
Sildaan exchanged glances with Llyron, whose mask of disgust had slipped to one of contempt.
‘You want to tithe this whole country to men?’ she said.
‘For now, yes. Look, right now… right now this is about saving our lives. Tut and look as shocked as you want. Call me a coward. I’ve no problem with that; I’m just telling the truth. The reason we are alive is that we are useful. The moment that stops, we are dead. The moment we become a threat? Dead.
‘So yes, let them set the taxes. Agree to run the economy to deliver. Govern. We already have the system in place to keep the threads working at what we want for how much we want. The thread segregation system is perfect for that. For a few years they’ll leave a heavy presence, but when they think they have us in their pockets, they’ll reduce and reduce because men are expensive to keep here.
‘And all the time we can work to increase our fighting strength. Over time, we can train a whole new army. Men will lose focus on us if we keep sending them their taxes. And as the old ones die and new ones take over, that focus will get ever more blurred. And us? Well, you are immortal; I’ve got a couple of thousand years left if I’m careful.
‘It doesn’t matter if it takes a hundred years. Two hundred. We have time. They do not. And when we are strong enough, we simply stop sending them their coin. By that time the elves will be behind us. Their hatred of man will be at such a pitch that they will be baying for conflict. And we will preside over victory. Hate turns to love when slavery turns to freedom.’
Sildaan knew Helias was talking complete sense. She could see both Llyron and Hithuur knew it too, distasteful as it was.
‘But before you start there’s one big problem out there,’ said Hithuur. ‘The forest is untameable by us or by man. Never mind what we’ve been trying to do, it is too vast to police and it is where rebellion will inevitably arise. And then of course there are the TaiGethen and the Silent Priesthood. How do you deal with them?’
Helias spread his arms. ‘Hey, I’m a negotiator, not a soldier. Garan and his people can sort it out. After all, if you want to own the jungle, you have to deal with the predators.’ Katyett pushed the mage in front of them. They were closing on the warehouse. Burned buildings were all around them. Few sounds other than wails and angry shouts could be heard beyond the restless noise of the ocean.
‘Shout for help if you want. Run if you desire. Just know that you will die and we will escape and your death will have been a complete waste.’
‘What I want is you tell me what you want,’ said the mage. He was called Palant. It was at least the tenth time he had rephrased the question. ‘Then will I help.’
His elvish was passable. A bit confused but mostly comprehensible. He had a broad bruise growing across his chin and lower jaw and he had several chipped teeth. A headache too, probably, and he kept on working his jaw from side to side to relieve the aching and stiffness.
‘You plant those traps of magic – what did you say they are called?’
‘Wards.’
‘Wards.’ The Balaian word sat uncomfortably on Katyett’s tongue. ‘We need access to the harbour master’s warehouse and we don’t want to explode before we get there. You will dig them up, or whatever you do.’
‘Dis-spell,’ said Palant.
‘That’s why you’re in front. You hit the bad stuff first.’
‘A fire or ice ward will kill us all,’ said Palant.
‘You first,’ said Merrat. ‘Fancy it much?’
Palant shook his head. ‘Wards are thick approach south. In buildings walls high.’
‘You di – dis – spell them.’
‘Why? You me kill any ways.’
‘That remains possible,’ said Katyett. ‘But not as certain as if you don’t.’
‘No need dis-spell to them,’ said Palant. ‘No wards on sea side approaches.’
‘Oh,’ said Katyett, surprised. She took out a knife, clamped a hand over Palant’s mouth and slid the blade between his ribs and into his heart. ‘Thank you.’
The Tai ran, turning right at the next junction, heading back towards the harbourside. Palant might have been lying but Katyett did not think so. It made partial sense if you thought about it. She supposed there had to be a safe corridor to get people in and out of the area. But to leave every harbour approach clear was careless.
They picked their way through the wreckage of Ynissul businesses that had crammed the docks with life and commerce less than ten days ago. From a vantage point inside a partially collapsed shop, they could see a guard of eighteen soldiers and three mages spread across the front of the warehouse.
Most were gathered around a large timber fire about midway between water and warehouse. Others patrolled in front. The warehouse doors, damaged when Pelyn had made her escape, had been competently patched up. Guards walked up and down the sides of the warehouse. Their attention was not keen. The warehouse had been built for strength and security.
‘No one is going near the door,’ said Merrat. ‘Look.’
She was right. In fact, now they looked, a semicircle of barrels Katyett had assumed were makeshift seats marked a no-go area. The door must have had wards placed on it.
‘There goes our first plan,’ said Katyett. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Can a ward be so delicate it triggers by just walking too close?’ asked Grafyrre.
‘I’d ask Palant but I’m afraid he’s a little under the weather,’ said Katyett a little sharply. ‘We don’t know so we don’t risk.’
‘You misunderstand. I think we need to brief everyone inside before we liberate them. I just want some idea what would trigger whatever it is on the doors. They’ll have spun them some story inside. But what’s the truth?’
Katyett smiled. ‘Fair enough. Well, we can’t ask the humans and I still say there’s too many to take on in this much space, so let’s go and ask our friends, shall we? But let’s be careful. We don’t know how far up the roof that ward spreads.’
The three TaiGethen moved in cover towards the rear of the warehouse. Palant’s information on wards focused their attention. They watched guards approach, stop, turn and head back. Counting paces, marking exact distances and moving with caution.
When they were agreed on a strategy, Katyett led them closer. Precious little noise came from within. Most would be asleep. Katyett was gambling that each thread would have marked its own area and set guards against attack by others. She had no idea how many were within but it had to number thousands.
Cramped. And revolting by now.
The guard was almost at the end of his patrol. He stopped, looked towards the end of the warehouse and turned on his heel. Katyett waited until he had moved away five paces. She beckoned her Tai to follow her. They moved quickly and silently, beginning to cl
imb immediately. The warehouse was made of sturdy timbers strengthened with iron bands and with a pitched roof of slate. It had withstood hurricanes, arson and attempted robbery. The harbour master was proud of his store and maintained it in superb condition.
It all made for an easy climb. Not a rivet was out of place, not a timber was loose. The TaiGethen had swarmed up the wall and onto the roof well before the guard returned. They crawled along to the skylight left partially open by Pelyn. Katyett stuck her head through the opening and withdrew it in the same movement. Her eyes were watering.
‘Dear Yniss save us, it reeks in there.’
She took a deep breath and took a second look. The warehouse had been stripped of everything down to the last shelf and rack. The floor space was covered in sleeping bodies. Elves walked to and fro. As she expected, there were distinct gaps between various groups indicating division along thread lines.
At the southern end, with what looked like the less numerous Cefans nearest, were what passed for latrines. A few boxes had been set in a row and had holes knocked in the tops to sit over. The boxes sat on sailcloth which had been tied around them. It was woefully inadequate. Katyett could see pools of urine and excrement at the base of every box. Other pools indicated where some had not bothered to wait for a box to be free, or perhaps could not face sitting where they were supposed to.
Down by the doors there was a single length of rope laid in a semicircle, matching the barrels without. The floor was clear inside this boundary. Katyett scanned the floor quickly. The threads were in rough thread longevity order from door to latrines. To the left of the doors was a small group. No guards. Katyett looked more closely. She counted them. Thirty-four. Covered in sheets.
Katyett withdrew her head. Her expletives surprised even Graf and Merrat.
‘They haven’t even let them move their dead,’ she said and felt sick in the pit of her soul. ‘We need to end this. Right now.’
‘Can we get down?’ asked Merrat.
‘It’s a couple of jumps but nothing as tricky as crossing the Ix at Taanepol. I’ll lead.’
Katyett dropped through the skylight, her hands gripping its edge and hanging briefly before dropping down to the gantry. She scanned its length and the spurs that led off to maintenance points and other skylights around the roof. She cursed quietly. Merrat and Grafyrre joined her.
‘Problem?’ asked Grafyrre.
‘You could say. The ladders are gone.’
The Tai cell looked down on the crowded, stinking warehouse floor.
‘How far to the floor – a hundred feet?’ said Grafyrre.
‘Something like that,’ said Katyett. ‘But getting down isn’t the problem. We can use the roof beams and eaves to get us to the top of the walls and we can drop from there. But look at the walls. That damned blue paint the master’s so attached to. Glossy and slippery. You might be TaiGethen but try and climb those.’
‘We can speak to them from here,’ said Merrat.
‘We need to be on the floor with them. Standing aloof is exactly what they hate about us, isn’t it?’
‘So?’
‘So, Graf, I go down to the floor. I talk to them. Then we act. Me from in here, you from outside.’
‘You’re at high risk down there,’ said Grafyrre.
Katyett shrugged. ‘I can’t help that. But look at them. Who’s going to take the first step to attack me, do you think? Tai, we pray.’
They dropped their heads, murmuring two prayers to bless the actions the split cell must take. Katyett prayed for understanding. Grafyrre and Merrat prayed for strength, speed, the darkening of the night and a storm of Gyal’s tears. Thunder cracked across the sky.
‘Gyal has heard you,’ said Katyett.
‘You don’t believe that,’ said Merrat.
‘Makes good scripture, doesn’t it?’
Katyett laid a hand on each of her friend’s heads and then moved off along a spur of the gantry. She reached the end and swung onto the nearest roof timber, moving quickly along it towards the eaves. She dropped to the timber below and made the top of the walls. She eyed the blue paint with distaste. Below her, the thread guards were unaware of the TaiGethen above them.
With a nod to Merrat and Grafyrre, Katyett hung underneath the beam. She swung her legs to give her some pace, let go her hands and dropped. Her feet slapped against the wall and she began to run along the sheer surface, angling sharply down. When her weight overcame her speed, she pushed away, twisted in the air, dropped sixty feet and landed on the balls of her feet, turning a quick roll to absorb the impact.
She came to a stand between the Beethan and Gyalan threads. Guards snapped round. Katyett raised her hands in peace, placed a finger to her lips and walked quickly towards the door of the warehouse. The guards, all unarmed of course, came towards her from all angles. Sense prevailed and they kept silent. Katyett stopped close to the rope barrier. She allowed herself to be surrounded by elves with hate in their eyes and violence in the set of their bodies.
‘You can do one of two things,’ said Katyett. ‘You can kill me right here and now and I will not raise a defence against you. Or you can listen to me and I will save all of your lives. Which is it to be?’
Chapter 32
I do not require you to die for me. I do not want you to die for me. I merely want you to be prepared to die for me. ‘They are giving us neither food nor water. They are weakening us. The only thing free here is sleep and we spend most of the time sleeping. What else is there but despair?’
The Beethan iad looked exhausted and sick. None of those standing before Katyett looked capable of fighting. The thirst would be maddening, the hunger painful and the boredom dangerous.
‘And what of the dead?’ asked Katyett, gesturing at the covered bodies. ‘How did they die?’
‘We had a riot here in the first hours after the doors were closed,’ said a Gyalan with bruising across his face and a long cut on his right hand, presumably from fingernails or raking teeth. ‘Twenty died. It was over thread hate and rumours about who had what food and water. The others died when they tried to rush the doors to knock them down. It was horrible.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come,’ said the Gyalan.
He led Katyett to the bodies. The other guards, five of them, followed at a short distance. The Gyalan stooped and drew the cloak from a body. Katyett took an involuntary step back and glanced up to the gantry where Graf and Merrat looked on. She forced herself to look down again.
It was hard to tell if she was looking at iad or ula, Gyalan. Cefan, Beethan or Ixii. The corpse had no hair. The scalp was blackened. The face looked as if it had been lashed by a whip of fire. It was slashed and cauterised in twenty places. Ugly, burned scars that had taken both eyes, ripped through lips and nose and pared through to the jawbone.
Though the clothes were largely undamaged, the right hand was burned so deep that Katyett could see the white of finger bones. The left hand was gone entirely. This body had bare feet too. They were blackened and melted. The pain must have been terrible. Katyett knelt and spoke a prayer for the soul to find peace, rest and comfort.
‘What did this?’ she asked, replacing the cloak and straightening.
‘Human magic,’ said the Cefan guard, an ula with oozing patches in his scalp where his hair had been ripped out. ‘Placed on the door. It was like the lightning of Gyal’s worst storm of rage. It came from the wood and covered them, jabbing into them, flaying them and setting their flesh on fire. Since then, we haven’t fought amongst ourselves and we haven’t tried to escape again. There is such fear in here. Most are waiting to die.’
‘And you have brought this on us,’ said the Beethan. ‘The Ynissul invited men to our shores. Here is the result.’
‘So take out your fury on me if you really believe that I, Katyett of the TaiGethen, invited those enemies into our homes. The truth is that all of you who cheered the denouncement of Takaar and the shattering of the harmony have rend
ered us helpless. Standing together, the threads would defeat this enemy. Fighting amongst ourselves makes us weak.
‘Ynissul heretics have brought this plague to our shores. The rest of us have allowed it to spread unchecked.’
‘You’re blaming us?’ The Gyalan’s voice was raised.
‘Voice down!’ hissed Katyett. ‘I blame all of us, including myself. I did not see betrayal in those I served and loved and I am shamed for that. I blame you because you chose the route of hate of all threads but your own. Because you sought to protect only your own and damn the rest. Because you made it so easy for men to take charge. And do not doubt that they are now in charge of this city.’
‘Really?’ The Beethan gestured around the warehouse. ‘I see no Ynissul here. Nor do I see Apposans and nor do I see Tuali.’
Katyett moved a half-pace towards the Beethan, menacing for the first time since she had dropped amongst them. The Beethan took a full pace back.
‘The Ynissul are not here because after they were victimised, brutalised, raped and beaten by elves from every other thread, I had to take them from the city. I wonder how many in here are guilty of crimes, yet I still wish to save you. The Apposans are not here because they were fortunate enough to be warned away and are now in hiding under the canopy.
‘The jails are full of Orrans and Ixii, and of your brothers and sisters too. All other elves are subject to curfew and are prisoners in their own homes. And the Tuali are not here because men surrounded them in the Park of Tual and slaughtered four hundred of them while Helias walked with the cascarg in another part of the city.
‘We are all expendable to humans. We are all suffering. And your hate has made the situation so much worse. And still I wish to save all of you.’
Katyett pointed back into the warehouse. ‘Every ula and iad in here deserves freedom. I have to have your help or most will die. There are more ships coming. Thousands more men will be here tomorrow and it is our belief that they will murder everyone in here when they arrive. You are trouble and they cannot afford to let you live.
Once walked with Gods e-1 Page 29