The River Wall

by Randall Garrett

  The other two vineh had been a step behind the first, and now they had to come around him to get to me—a distance made longer by the furious struggle Tarani was making. The one who held her staggered back and forth with her weight, catching the attention and blocking the progress of the other two. They seemed slower, less active than in our other encounters with vineh.

  One of Tarani’s powerful kicks connected with the vineh’s knee, and he howled in pain. I drew my dagger, jumped in, and stabbed at one muscular arm. He howled again, and I tugged Tarani out of his grasp. She landed on her feet with her dagger already drawn, whirled and slashed it across his throat. I pushed his collapsing body back against the others, grabbed Tarani’s hand, and pulled her toward Raithskar.

  We heard the two vineh snarling, then their battle challenge rang out as they started after us.

  “Let us face them,” Tarani urged, even while she ran beside me. “The city is no sanctuary for us.”

  “Think, Tarani! They came up on us without a sound.”

  “Ferrathyn?” she asked. “Still, why not face two enemies we know, rather than a city we cannot trust?”

  “They’re making noise now, aren’t they? That means Ferrathyn’s just letting their natural disposition bedevil us now. He’s gone after reinforcements. We may have a chance in Raithskar, just because he can’t control everybody at once. Out here—”

  I glanced back. The vineh, free of Ferrathyn’s control, had regained their full range of movement, and they were gaining on us. Another group of vineh—five adult males—had rounded the western edge of the wall and was cutting across the empty field to intercept us.

  We’re only about a third of the way to the gateway, I thought. We’re going to get caught between them. But—what’s going on at the gate?

  Men were working at the barricade, which seemed to be an organized heap of carts and furniture and boxes. An opening appeared at its center, and a dozen men ran out, swords drawn and ready.

  Tarani groaned, and the sound expressed my own sense of helplessness.

  *I come,* Keeshah offered.

  *No, Keeshah,* I ordered. *There isn’t time*

  *Man knows you come,* the sha’um argued. *No need to hide now*

  *You can’t do us any good, Keeshah. You’ll just get your family hurt for nothing. Besides,* I said, with growing hope, *it’s looking better.*

  The men from the city had run out along the road in pairs. One man from each pair was on either side of the road, and the men stood back to back. They formed a protected corridor straight into the city. Their position limited the threat of the new vineh group, but could not protect us from the ones behind us. If they caught us, the delay might give the other vineh the chance to reach us before the guards could break formation to help. Our only chance lay in reaching the near end of that corridor first.

  Tarani had seen the intent of the city guards, and with a cry of hope, she summoned a burst of speed and raced ahead of me. She ran between the first two men just as a big hand brushed my shoulder and caught the back of my tunic. I broke stride, and claws raked my back. Another hand caught my bicep in a painful grip, and I felt the breath of the vineh on the back of my neck as he prepared to sink his teeth there.

  A sword blade was thrust over my shoulder, barely missing my cheek. I heard a gurgling howl behind me, and the hand let go. Tarani pulled me forward, and the two guards followed us, backing up. The second group of vineh was leaping and screaming, but they seemed to respect the bare swords facing them. The corridor collapsed behind us as we moved to and through the barricade.

  Once we were inside the city walls, the guards who had come out after us gathered around, uncomfortably close. Another man pushed through them, a man with an air of authority.

  “Did you send them out?” I asked.

  “I did,” he admitted, standing in front of us with one hand on his hip, the other on the hilt of his sword. He was tall, with a hard face.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “My pleasure,” he growled. He snatched at Tarani’s headscarf. The scarf fell away, exposing the uncommon dark color.

  “It might be fitting for the Raithskarian traitor and the Eddartan whore to die at the hands of the vineh, but it would be less satisfying.” He took a step back. “You know the orders,” he told the men. “Kill them now!”

  Only Tarani’s quick thinking—and her mindskill—saved us. The men rushed toward us, then past us.

  “What? Not me … Aahh!”

  The cry came from one of the guards. Tarani’s hand tugged at my arm, and I followed her through the crowd of armed men. When I looked at her, I saw her true shape and appearance through the transparent image of another soldier, and I realized she had given me the same disguising illusion. Two guards had been the unfortunate focus of a double illusion of Tarani and myself.

  Down one of the streets leading from the gate was the large open area which had once been Raithskar’s marketplace. As we approached we could see that it was full of more than the usual movement and bustle, and there was organization amid the chaos. Vleks were penned in a makeshift corral at one end of the area. The remainder of the space, stripped now of the colorful vendor tents which had been the common sight, was being filled by a continuous stream of people, each one bringing something to add to the compilation of …

  War supplies.

  Food. Extra clothes. Swords, daggers, baldrics. Closed containers that might be used for water. There were people working to sharpen swords, rebuild carts, inspect containers.

  More frightening than the actual accumulation of the materials was the attitude that pervaded the activity. Raithskar had been a comfortable, generous, cheerful city. On my last visit here, uncertainty about the vineh had begun to undermine that pleasant mood. Now there was only a stern desperation. Lines creased the faces of the people we passed. Children accompanied parents to the marketplace storehouse, their arms carrying lighter burdens but their eyes haunted with fear and bewilderment.

  “They’re here,” someone whispered harshly. “Markasset and that woman are in the city!”

  “They say she forced the guards to kill one of their own,” someone else said.

  “What are they doing here?” a woman asked bitterly. “Haven’t they done enough to us?”

  As the column of people penetrated farther into the city, Tarani and I slipped down a side street. I pulled my headscarf out of the belt where it was hanging and gave it to Tarani. Once she had her telltale black headfur covered again, she let the illusion go. We continued walking, since everyone visible in the city seemed to be moving.

  “He was expecting us,” Tarani whispered. “Do you think that Thymas …?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think it matters much now,” I said. “The point is, we’re here, and we’re in time.”

  “In time?” she echoed.

  “I’m thinking of all that activity in the square,” I said. “It looks to me like they’re only a day or so away from being ready to move out of here. We would be forced to use the Sharith against them. Strung out in a line, every person seeing his own survival in the balance—there would be so much death …”

  “How will that be different inside the city?” Tarani asked. “And what can we do to stop it, short of attacking Ferrathyn directly?”

  “We can’t attack him now; we need a diversion,” I said. “We can’t prevent the mobilization, but we may be able to delay it until the Sharith can provide that diversion.”

  “And what effect can we have, when we are to be killed on recognition?” Tarani demanded. She shook her head sadly, and lowered her voice.

  “I find it hard to believe,” she said, “that the friendly people who took such an interest in the young cubs could now be convinced that you and I are dangerous enemies.”

  “You’re thinking of the people of Raithskar as individuals,” I reminded Tarani gently.

  “Given the time to think and remember and consider the matter logically, I doubt that any of th
em would believe Ferrathyn’s lies. But Ferrathyn has not allowed the opportunity for that kind of critical examination. He’s planting the kind of fear that needs a quick answer. The people are told that the vineh are dangerous and, in fact, the only vineh they are allowed to see are dangerous. Ferrathyn has provided a channel for their fear by setting us up as scapegoats. Of course they’re grabbing at it—it’s the only thing that even starts to make sense.

  “These people are so scared that they’re a mob, Tarani, and a mob is easy to direct.”

  “And difficult to stop,” Tarani added.

  “The way to stop it is to remind them of being individuals, and individually responsible for the action of the mob. Wake up their rational thinking.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “By giving them something to think about,” I said. I caught her arm, and we stopped walking. “Recognize where we are?”

  She looked around. We were in a residential area, on a street corner.

  “It does look familiar,” she said. “We must be close—” She broke off. “Rikardon, you cannot be thinking of …”

  “Surrendering.” I finished the thought for her. “To Thanasset—and only to Thanasset.”

  “But he has to be one of those under close watch by Ferrathyn,” she protested.

  “He has also been a Supervisor for many years, and has a strong sense of law and Tightness. I’ll wager that Ferrathyn has used persuasion and peer pressure on Thanasset, more than compulsion. And no matter what he’s been persuaded to believe, if we ask for a public hearing—a right of every Raithskarian accused of a crime—he will protect us until the hearing can be held.”

  “Thus causing the delay you seek, and capturing the attention of the unthinking mob.” She thought about it, and finally nodded. “I can think of nothing less dangerous. I agree.”

  We stepped around the edge of the corner house, and jumped back again quickly. The cross street was the one on which Thanasset lived. It was about halfway down the block, on the other side of the street. Two guards stood in the street on this end of the block, two at the other end.

  26

  “We must first find a way to reach Thanasset undetected,” Tarani said. “I will disguise us…. There.” She had taken on the image of Illia, the young woman who had cared for Markasset, but whose affection had shifted to someone else.

  “Am I Zaddorn?” I asked, and she nodded.

  I had an uncomfortable feeling that I could not pin down. I squeezed Tarani’s hand, a warm pride spreading through my chest, followed closely by a chilling fear.

  “Thank you for trusting me, High Lord.”

  She smiled up at me. “So far, Captain, even your ill advice has not been fatal. Let us hope to continue that good fortune.”

  It was just the right touch of lightness to send me around the corner. First, however, I reached out to Keeshah. *Send one of the cubs to Thagorn,* I said.

  *All go,* he answered. *You say don’t help. Too hard to wait*

  *Good idea,* I said. *Go to Zanek. And get back as fast as you can, okay?*

  *Yes.*

  “They’re all going back after Sharith,” I told Tarani.

  “So Yayshah says,” Tarani said. “Shall we begin our task?”

  The instant we stepped out into the street, that funny feeling I had got worse. The guard nearest us took one look at us and bolted toward us, shouting to the others.

  “What’s wrong?” Tarani demanded.

  “Don’t ask,” I said. “Just run—and keep the illusion.“

  We ran back down the block we had just traversed, then cut sharply left. Two of the guards were behind us; the other two had run down the next intersecting block, and were coming toward us. I grabbed Tarani and slammed open a garden gate, dragging her through it. We ran through a backyard considerably smaller than Thanasset’s. A woman emerged from the back door of the house just as Tarani vaulted the four-foot stone fence that separated this yard from the next. “Here they are!” the woman screamed, as I scrambled over the fence after Tarani.

  In the next yard, a group of children were seated in a ring on a stone-laid patio. They looked up when Tarani landed in their yard, and started to get up from their circle when I appeared. They were directly between us and the gate that led into the next street—Thanasset’s street, again—and Tarani and I ran right through the center of their circle.

  I had judged we would come out fairly close to Thanasset’s house. When we were directly in front of it, two more guards materialized—probably from inside the house.

  I flew straight at one of them. He braced his feet and brought his sword up in his right hand. I swerved at the last minute, and he stepped out to follow me, lifting his sword slightly higher for a downstroke. I pivoted and threw my weight under the upraised sword, slamming his ribs with my shoulder. He staggered backward. I caught his sword wrist with both hands and fell backward, drawing the man with me and flipping him over my head. I heard him strike the cobbled street with a grunt of pain. I pulled out my dagger, and started to scramble to my feet …

  The point of a sword stopped me.

  I looked up to see another guard scowling down at me. Behind him stood Tarani, each of her arms held by one of the guards who had followed us. She was panting heavily, but I noticed that she still held the illusion.

  “I don’t know how you got out, Zaddorn,” the guard said, “but you’re going back. You know, I wasn’t too sure you were as incompetent as the Council claimed, but this sure as Zanek proves it to me. Stupid to come walking right up to us!”

  In spite of the danger in the situation, I felt something like gratification. I knew Zaddorn wasn’t a flunky for Ferrathyn, I thought. He knew the truth about the Ra’ira and was more opposition than Ferrathyn could handle. So Zaddorn got pressured out of office and locked up.

  The man turned partway around to look at Tarani—whom he thought was Illia—and I saw the change happen. Muscles tightened in his jaw; his eyes narrowed, and his lips pulled back from his teeth, exposing the wide tusks. “Wait a minute,” he said, and his voice was different. “Zaddorn wouldn’t have been that stupid.”

  “What are you saying, Omin?” one of the other guards demanded. “He’s Zaddorn, and he did it, right?”

  “Not right,” the man said, nearly shouting. “Don’t you ever listen to the Council? We’ve been asked to keep watch for a man and a woman together, and warned that they could do some strange things. If this isn’t Zaddorn, then she’s got to be that Eddartan witch. And this—” He turned back to me, and I saw triumph in his face, his eyes.

  It was more than a guard’s gladness to have been alert, or a citizen’s pride in having captured a sought-after traitor. It was Ferrathyn. Gloating. “This has to be Markasset, disguised somehow to look like Zaddorn. And our orders are clear about Markasset.”

  I was still on the ground. In a leisurely way, keeping his gaze locked on mine, he put away his dagger and took the hilt of his sword in both hands. He lifted it, and prepared—eagerly—to bring the blade down across my neck.

  “No!” Tarani screamed.

  The man froze—all but his eyes. I saw shock and fury in them.

  Tarani screamed again, this time a high wail of anguish. The guard—abandoned for the moment by Ferrathyn’s dominating presence—lowered his sword slowly, looking confused.

  The two guards who were holding Tarani were struggling to keep hold of her. She had gone rigid and stiff, her back arched, and her face a rictus of pain. Amazingly, she still held the illusion.

  Damn Ferrathyn! I thought. Tarani used a countercompulsion on this guy, and Ferrathyn is striking at her directly now. More than the illusion will break, if he keeps it up. I need to distract him….

  The puzzled guard was the logical choice. I came up from the ground with the dagger in my hand, and almost succeeded in stabbing the man in the side before he noticed me. Notice me he did, however, and the live spark of Ferrathyn was once again in his eyes as he knocked aside my dagger
, dropped his sword, and caught my throat in a strong, crushing grip. Dimly, I saw Tarani sag down from her stiff posture.

  “Kill the girl,” the guard ordered, through gritted teeth, and he applied more pressure to my throat, forcing me first to my knees and then into a strained backward bend.

  Behind me, a door opened.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” demanded the familiar voice of Thanasset. “Release those people at once! When has it been the province of Peace and Security to execute without a hearing?” The guard’s face turned almost feral as he looked up at Thanasset, and I heard the old man’s step falter momentarily. Then he was hurrying over, his hands pulling at the arm that held me bent over backward, choking me. “In the name of the Council, release him,” Thanasset said. “Do you hear me? Release Zaddorn.”

  “This is not Zaddorn,” the man growled, then grinned savagely. “Don’t you recognize your own son?”

  Tarani must have been aware enough to hear the conversation, for I heard Thanasset gasp as the illusion vanished. I was on the brink of unconsciousness, and I had very little breath available, but I got out two words.

  “Surrender,” I whispered. “Hearing.” Then my mind reeled toward blackness.

  Pain drew me back, the pain of air passing through my bruised larynx. I found myself lying on the cobbled surface of the street, practically alone. Thanasset and the guard were faced off, arguing. I was relieved to see that the fierce, mad light was gone from the guards face. Now he was just a guard, trying to do his job. On his own behalf, he was arguing for killing us outright.

  “I do not care who issued the order,” Thanasset was saying. “Every citizen of Raithskar is entitled to a hearing before the Council, and my son is no exception.”

  “All right, you made your point about Markasset,” the man said. “But the girls Eddartan. Raithskar’s rules don’t apply to her. You saw what she can do, too, with your own eyes. She’s too dangerous to take chances with.” He turned to the men who held her. “Kill her.”

  Before the two guards could act on the order, Thanasset was standing in front of them, their own daggers in his hands and pointing at their throats.