by Ian Irvine
But when he ordered the best looking of the enemy dead brought in and their bodies hacked and despoiled in the middle of the Great Hall, and when the helpless prisoners were tormented for the amusement of the Five Heroes, Rix could endure no more.
“Enough!” he cried. “What are you, Grandys? A man or an animal?”
Grandys turned, his bloated face red from drink. His mouth set in a snarl. “Are you speaking to me?”
“You know I am,” said Rix, shaking inwardly but determined not to back down. “Leave them alone. If you must fight, pick on someone your own size.”
“Since you’re my only living descendant,” said Grandys, “and you fought beside me with courage and skill, I’ll assume you can’t hold your drink. Sit down, have another mug and keep your mouth shut.”
It was a way of saving face for both of them, and Rix wasn’t having it.
“As it happens,” he said through his teeth, “I can hold my drink. Better than you can, I’m thinking. Leave the prisoners be.”
“Why?” said Grandys coldly. “Are you a friend of the enemy? Or are you in their pay?”
The room went still. The accusations were insults no man could tolerate.
Rix had no choice now. He had to fight Grandys, bare-handed. And though he had never lost such a fight, he knew he was going to lose this one. There was not a man in the Great Hall who would back him against the First of the Five Heroes. Whatever they thought of Grandys, deep down, he was their master and they would support him all the way.
Rix drew his sword and put it on the table in full view, so everyone could see he was unarmed. His eyes met Grandys’, challenging him to do the same, though there was no reason to assume he would. Grandys might draw Maloch and hack Rix to pieces. He might do anything.
But not this time.
Grandys laid down his own sword and stepped forwards. He had taken off his boots at the beginning of the feast, but even in bare feet he was inches taller than Rix, and broader. He had drunk an enormous amount of wine, at least a gallon, enough to put a normal man on his back.
But Grandys was no normal man. The only symptoms Rix noticed were a slowness to his speech and a slight unsteadiness on his feet. There was still stone in him, and perhaps it stiffened him in other ways, too. The battle had exhausted Rix, yet Grandys had seemed as strong and energetic at the end as he had been at the beginning. Rix had to win the bout quickly, or Grandys would wear him down and batter him to death.
He glories in being unpredictable, Rix thought, so I must do the same. What’s the most unpredictable way to start the bout? Don’t think about it, or his magery might read it. Just do it.
Grandys stepped forwards, raising his fists. Rix did too, alternately watching Grandys’ fists, then his eyes. The eyes often gave a feint away. Grandys was doing the same. Rix gave a little, stifled jab with his right, and at the same time glanced down at Grandys’ groin, then away.
Grandys threw his right leg forward and bent the knee, instinctively trying to protect his groin, and Rix jammed his boot heel down on Grandys’ bare toes with all his weight, shattering the opal armour and grinding it into flesh and bone. Grandys reared back, his teeth bared, and Rix brought his left hand up from floor level in an uppercut that would have knocked any normal man onto his back, unconscious.
Grandys rocked backwards, his eyes glazed, and for several seconds Rix thought he was going to topple. But he remained on his feet and Rix made his fatal mistake. He acted honourably to a man who lacked all honour.
He should have gone on the attack, battering Grandys about the head until he fell senseless. Foolishly, Rix allowed him a few seconds to recover.
He was watching Grandys’ fists when he should have been checking his feet. Grandys’ right foot struck Rix in the groin so hard that tears burst from his eyes. Before he could see again, Grandys punched him in the mouth, the nose, the throat, then so hard over the heart that it missed a number of beats and for several seconds he wasn’t sure it was going to start again. Rix swayed like a drunken man, took another blow to the chin, landed flat on his back and could not get up.
He lay there, expecting to die. Every man in the Great Hall was on his feet, and it was clear that half of them wanted to see Grandys finish Rix. Lirriam was licking her plump lips. Rufuss’s eyes pierced Rix like black beams.
Grandys might have killed Rix, had the whim taken him. Perhaps he didn’t know what he was going to do until he did it. But after a minute or two he let out a roar of laughter and hauled Rix to his feet.
“Well done, Ricinus,” he said clapping him on the back and nearly driving Rix’s backbone through his lower intestine. “Stamp on my toes — I’ll make an innovator of you yet. If I don’t kill you first.”
He picked up Maloch and raised it. Again the room held its breath.
“What are you doing?” said Rix, thinking that he was going to die after all.
“Promoting you to my first lieutenant, of course.”
He tapped Rix on the right shoulder with the blade, then added quietly, “Clearly my command spell has been slipping. You won’t find this one so easy to fight. Back to your bench now, lad, and we’ll toast your promotion with another flagon.”
No sooner than Rix had regained his seat than Grandys walked up to the first prisoner, General Rochlis, put Maloch’s tip against his chest and, ever so slowly, pushed it in. He watched Rochlis die, then strolled around the hall, putting the remaining prisoners to death with no more concern than if he had been dicing carrots. After each man he put down, Grandys turned to study the expression on Rix’s face.
Rix tried to remain impassive, but inside he was screaming in outrage. Grandys was a brilliant, ruthless leader, but he was thoroughly evil and would not rest until he had brought Rix down to his own level.
CHAPTER 79
Tali edged through the door into the chancellor’s quarters and slipped behind the floor-to-ceiling drapes. She had to know what he was going to do to Tobry and Holm.
“You’re condemned men,” said the chancellor, when they were brought before his table, in rattling chains. “Is there anything you’d like to say before I order your execution for treason?”
“I’ve got a plan to deal with Grandys,” said Tobry.
“I’ve never liked you, Lagger — ” began the chancellor.
“So that explains why you ordered me thrown from the top of Rix’s tower,” Tobry said drily. “All this time I’ve been trying to work it out.”
Tobry, don’t! You’ve no idea what a vengeful man he is. But Tali had to admire his composure in the face of death. Her knees would barely hold her up.
“How did you survive?” said the chancellor. “Never mind. The fact that you did, and even managed to escape so thorough a hunt as Lyf had set for you, suggests that there’s more to you than I’d imagined.”
“And now your tediously conventional plans have failed so dismally, you’re prepared to clutch at the most desperate straws to get yourself out of trouble.”
“Speaking as one condemned man to two others,” said Holm, “the noose is tightening every minute. If you hope to slip it, you’d better get on with it.”
“You’re overly bold for a humble clock attendant,” said the chancellor.
“And you’ve become unwontedly timid since you fled Caulderon, Chancellor. Tell him the plan, Tobry.”
“I’m going to join Grandys’ army, in the guise of a Herovian, then shift to a caitsthe after he’s gone to bed and claw his heart out.”
“No!” cried Tali, forgetting herself.
A guard hauled her out from behind the drape.
“What the hell are you doing here?” growled the chancellor.
“Whatever you’re planning to do to them, I’ve a right to know,” she said defiantly.
“You’ve a right to know nothing. You’re an interfering little know-it-all.”
Tali reached out to Tobry. “Tobry, you can’t disguise yourself from Grandys. At Glimmering, he picked that you were a sh
ifter in seconds. He’ll put you straight to death.”
“Not if I disguise myself with magery,” said Tobry.
“He’s got two ebony pearls, remember? And even if you could fool him, you can’t fool Maloch. It knows you. Chancellor,” said Tali. “Don’t let him do it. It’s suicide.”
“You’re appealing to me now?” said the chancellor. “What a fruity irony.”
“I can heal Tobry,” said Rannilt’s shrill little voice from the other side of the room. “Let me try.”
“Guard!” bellowed the chancellor. “How did that brat get in?”
“I don’t know, Chancellor,” said the guard, “but she didn’t come through the door.”
“How am I supposed to discuss secret strategies when half the fortress is lurking behind the drapes?”
“I don’t know, Chancellor.”
“Put the little twerp out. Don’t damage her.”
The guard gave the chancellor a reproachful look and picked Rannilt up by the scruff of the neck and the seat of her pants.
“I can heal Tobry, I can heal Tobry!” she wailed, kicking her thin legs and arms.
“Rannilt, you can’t,” said Tali. “You lost your gift after Lyf stole power from you in the caverns. Your blood doesn’t heal any more.”
The guard took her out, her cries dwindling down the hall.
“Well?” said Tobry, after a considerable silence.
“Well what?” said the chancellor.
“Will you allow me out, to try and kill Grandys?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“To win the aftermath I’m going to need a mighty army, but my forces are being eaten away by desertion to Grandys. I can’t strike at him until I’ve rebuilt my army, or defeating him will merely give victory to Lyf.
“I’ve got a better plan,” the chancellor said, leaning back in his chair. “Let Grandys turn the war our way first. Then you can kill him, shifter.”
CHAPTER 80
Rix tightened his defiance of the command spell until it hurt, then crawled along the dusty ceiling beam until he was above Grandys’ bedchamber. If he failed, or the spell betrayed him, he would die.
A few minutes ago, an unobtrusive little man had given the password to the guards outside Grandys’ room, and slipped inside. Rix had seen the man before and felt sure he was a spy.
What was Grandys really up to? There was an implacable purpose behind his bloody ruthlessness, and it had to do with the Herovian goal of reaching their Promised Realm. But how were they to get to it? And what did that mean for Hightspall?
The ceiling plaster was old and cracked. Not cracked enough for Rix to see into the bedchamber, though he might be able to hear. He lowered his ear to the surface, but heard not a sound.
Everything was so thickly coated with dust here that even his gentle movements had stirred it up. The dust was tickling the back of his nose. He suppressed a sneeze and kept very still, knowing that his weight on the beam could be enough to crack the plaster, and that would give him away at once.
“There’s another ebony pearl?” said Grandys.
“Yes, Lord Grandys,” said the spy. “My sources tell me that there are five, and it is the fifth.”
“A fifth! And the way magery is failing, I’m soon going to need it.”
So Grandys’ magery was also failing. That was the best news Rix had heard since Glimmering. The command spell must be weakening too, and if he fought it hard enough he might be able to break it again. But this time he would be more careful; he would not reveal that he had done so.
“Where do they come from?” said Grandys.
“Some magians say that ebony pearls just happened,” said the spy, “that they’re a freak of nature. Others believe that Lyf manipulated the lost king-magery so the pearls would form in suitable hosts — ”
“Suitable hosts?”
“Pale slaves — ”
“How can such priceless artefacts form in a people so unworthy?” Grandys cried.
“I cannot say, my Lord.”
“Which Pale slaves?”
“Certain young females. Unusual Pale, you can be sure, though we only have the name of one.”
“How did you learn this name?”
“It was mentioned at the trial of Lord and Lady Ricinus, Lord.”
Grandys clenched a fist. “Lady Ricinus was the mother of my troublesome lieutenant. A noble Herovian, and she was hanged and drawn on her palace gates by this miserable chancellor. He must be put down. And the name of this Pale?”
“Iusia vi Torgrist, Lord. Lady Ricinus killed her and took her pearl ten years ago.”
“Vi Torgrist, vi Torgrist? Where have I heard that name recently?”
“It’s an ancient house,” said the spy.
“I know!” snapped Grandys. “The founding family came on the Second Fleet.”
“But the house is long extinct in Hightspall. It only survives in the Pale.”
“Tell me about the fifth pearl.”
“It has not yet been harvested from its host.”
“Why not?”
“Ebony pearls take many years to grow and mature. They can only be harvested from the host after she comes of age.”
“So the development of the pearl is linked to the development and maturity of the host,” said Grandys. “Go on.”
“My sources say the fifth pearl is the strongest of all. It’s been called the master pearl.”
“The master pearl. To the nub: who is the host?”
“A Pale who escaped from Cython. As far as I can discover, the only people who know her name are Lyf and the chancellor. They’re both after it, of course.”
“But the host has eluded them. The pearl must have given her exceptional gifts.”
“Quite so, Lord,” said the spy. “Will that be all?”
“For the moment.”
Rix heard the door open and close. Then it opened again.
“You heard all that?” Grandys said quietly.
“Yes,” said Lirriam. “Can you name the Pale?”
Grandys did not answer.
“Only two have escaped from Cython,” Lirriam went on, slowly, as though assembling lines of evidence, “and one was a child who could not host a mature pearl. Therefore it has to be the other, Tali vi Torgrist. She gave evidence about the murder of her mother at the trial of Lady Ricinus. Which means that pearls must be familial.”
“I’m remembering something,” said Grandys.
“About the Pale?”
“No, from my crystal dreaming, before Maloch woke me in the Abysm. I was dreaming about Tirnan Twil.”
“What about it?” Lirriam said sharply.
“When the gauntlings burned Tirnan Twil, I dreamed that a Pale woman was there.”
“So what?”
“If Tali is the only adult Pale to have escaped, it must have been her. And if she has the fifth pearl, surely she had the magery to defend Tirnan Twil. But she did not act. Why not?”
“Perhaps she doesn’t know how to use her power.”
“It was her!” cried Grandys.
“You’re beginning to sound obsessed,” Lirriam said with a hint of a sneer.
“The small blonde Pale who refused me at Glimmering-by-the-Water. Before that she cried out. She was distraught at something I’d done. What, what?”
“You are obsessed with her,” said Lirriam. “Don’t let yet another woman impair your judgement.”
“No, this is monstrous!” said Grandys. “It was when I tried to kill the shifter, the mongrel who dived over the cliff and escaped. She cried out in fear for a filthy shifter.”
“Are you saying that Tali held back her magery for him?”
“Yes! Tirnan Twil was destroyed because she’s a despicable shifter lover, and when I find her, I’ll have her for it.”
“And the pearl,” said Lirriam. “Don’t forget what’s important here.”
Rix’s next two spying missions revealed nothing. Was Grandys
onto him, and allowing him to compromise himself ever more deeply? If Grandys was, his wrath would be terrible. But Rix could not stop now. He went back for a fourth evening, and this time found a tiny hole that allowed him to see a small part of the bedchamber.
“What do you mean, Tali can’t be found?” said Grandys, stalking back and forth, Maloch in one hand, wine jug in the other. “We know she left Glimmering with the chancellor’s party.”
He hacked a chunk out of the windowsill in his fury. His magery had failed to locate her and he’d reluctantly enlisted the assistance of Lirriam and Rufuss, whose command of sorcery, while not as powerful as his own, had certain advantages in subtlety. He had not wanted to; he did not trust either of them, and especially not Rufuss, whose opalisation had further damaged an already unstable mind.
“She’s been hidden with powerful magery,” said Lirriam. “Under such concealment, she could have gone anywhere and we wouldn’t know.”
“The chancellor knows she bears the pearl,” said Grandys. “Do you think for one minute that he’ll let her out of his sight? I’ll bet he has her at Garramide.”
“If he does, whoever hid her has done it with rare skill.”
“It’ll be the chief magian,” said Rufuss. “What’s his name?”
No one knew.
“It wouldn’t be hard to take Garramide,” said Lirriam.
“We’re not going near it,” said Grandys in a tone that brooked no argument.
“Why not?” said Rufuss.
“I built it for a purpose — ”
“Your adopted daughter has been dead 1950 years,” she sneered.
“But my purpose has not yet come to completion,” Grandys said coldly. “If we attack Garramide, the chancellor might destroy the place rather than surrender. He’s a spiteful little man.”
“I was wondering when you would remember our noble purpose,” said Yulia. Rix started and nearly fell. He had not realised she was there. “I thought you’d lost sight of it completely, in your ceaseless attempts to prove yourself by slaughtering everyone who stands in your way.”