City of Demons (19 page)

A pair of young men pulled in a net from the nearest pond. They carefully separated out the small silver fish from the larger carp and released the little ones back into the water. The bigger fish were hauled in baskets up to the road and dropped into large clay pots, half-full of water. There, they swam frantically about, slopping water over the side and occasionally jumping out, only to be quickly grabbed and put back in.

“Carp are best this time of year.” Dorict sighed. “Do you think that the Hall will have fish tonight?” The young Bane was more animated than Garet had ever seen.
And why not
, he thought.
Dorict is coming home
.

“Easily enough!” Marick yelled and prepared to jump off the cart, but Salick grabbed him by the collar of his tunic.

“Oh no you don't!” she said as she hauled him over Garet's lap to sit between them. “No more rule breaking. We're back in Shirath now and anything you do reflects on our own Banehall.” Her look was meant to terrify, but Marick only smirked.

The walls were very close, and Garet had to stretch his neck to see the tops of them. No guards patrolled the heights. There were no watch towers or arrow slits, or any of the other things he had seen in the walls of Old Torrick.

He turned to Salick. “How can these walls keep the demons out?” He pointed to the nearest section. “Look! It's so rough here that a Shrieker could easily use its claws to climb up to the top and get in.”

Salick was giving him the look she wore to inform him of his ignorance, but before she could lecture him, Mandarack spoke. “You're right, Garet. These walls are not designed to keep demons out, but to keep them in.” He smiled slightly at Garet's shocked expression. “It sounds foolish, doesn't it? But Shirath is built so as to allow Banes to easily trap and destroy the demons as soon as they are discovered.”

“But Master,” Garet replied carefully, “in Bangt, they were making ditches and rows of sharpened logs. And Old Torrick's walls were built to throw back an enemy, both the rebuilt sections and the older parts.”

Salick was listening now.

Mandarack shifted on the bench, careful not to nudge the wrapped bodies lying on the floorboards. “In Bangt, they were building for their fear, not their real danger—though if reversed they could prove to be useful. And the walls of Old Torrick were rebuilt partly from tradition. Torrick is the only one of the Five Cities that is older than the demon's arrival six hundred years ago. The Lords and people of that town value that history. That is why they rebuild their walls in the same manner as before.” He paused to nod at a Red riding in the opposite direction. “And the Torrickers do have other concerns besides demons.”

Salick bit her lip for a moment and then asked, “What concerns could they possibly have? I mean, Master; what is there to fear that's worse than a demon?”

Mandarack turned slightly to face his apprentice. “The Torrick lords, in truth, have much to fear from the miners they cheat and the Plains people who now demand adequate protection. For many years the rulers of that city have used their position at the boundary of the South and the Midlands to enrich themselves.“

Garet remembered Dorict's comments on the greed of those lords. “Even now,” Mandarack continued, “the lords may still believe in that threat more than the increased danger of demon attack.” He shrugged. “Every thief wants a well-locked door for himself, as they say.”

The Midlanders were not the only people who would have to learn how to work together, Garet realized.

Behind the Red they had passed, a line of men chained together, ankle to ankle, shuffled off the road to let the cart go by. There were about twenty of them, and many had the veined noses and slack eyes of heavy drinkers. Two young men with truncheons guarded them, one at the head of the column and one at the tail.

Mandarack's words had brought them level with the walls. There was a gap between the city and the river and it was through this space, three carts wide, that the road continued. With the high wall on his right and the wide river on his left, Garet felt as small as a crawling ant. The people on the road, in their bright tunics, stood out against the grey flagstones like spring flowers growing from rocks.

They soon came to the first bridge, arching above the road to a twin path on the other side. Salick made to turn onto it, but Marick grabbed her wrist and looked pleadingly at Mandarack.

“Master, can't we take the Main Bridge?” He waved at the road ahead with his free hand. “This is Garet's first time in the city, and we'll still have lots of time to get to the Hall before supper!”

Mandarack thought about it for a moment and said, “Very well, but go on foot, you, Garet, and Salick.” He then looked at the quiet boy sitting across from him. “Dorict and I will take the cart to the Hall. That may not be delayed.”

Salick looked down at the wrapped corpses and nodded. The rest, even Marick, blushed to realize that they had forgotten the tragedy that had marked their journey home. Salick pulled back on the reins and handed them to Dorict as she stepped down. Garet and Marick joined her beside the cart.

“We'll be there for dinner!” Salick called after the cart as it rumbled onto the bridge, but Marick was already pulling her and Garet down the road to the middle bridge, a much wider arch that joined the two halves of the city at its centre point. They swerved around single men pulling handcarts of vegetables and groups of old women leading goats and sheep on tethers. Marick seemed to instinctively know which twists and turns would get them to their destination in the least time. Garet felt as if he was flying through the thickening crowds on the road, and turning his head, he saw that even Salick's cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with excitement.

When they reached the centre bridge, Marick pulled at Garet to hurry, but he resisted for a moment, wishing to look around before the small Bane had him running again. Two ramps, one on each side of the bridge, took travellers up from the level of the road to the higher gate and bridge. The gate itself was of iron-reinforced wood, and of a size to dwarf even the gates of Old Torrick. Garet judged that twenty men could have joined hands and walked through it without brushing the posts.

Guards stood at the head of each ramp, tall men in bronze breastplates and holding their long spears angled out in front of them. Their tunics were a deep purple, like Garet's vest, but their sleeves were a riot of colourful embroidery, running in spirals down their arms. At their waists, great, cross-hilted swords hung from gold baldrics. Black boots and silver helmets topped with long brushes of horse hair completed the heroic effect. Garet gazed at them in stark admiration.
These are what heroes should look like
, he thought, and he wondered if the Banes were really necessary with such men as these around. Then he remembered that the courage to face a demon was different from a soldier's courage; it was the courage not to attack but to withstand. Was a Bane's bravery a thing only capable of being learned in childhood?

The guard eyed him curiously as he approached his station. He was a young man, no older than Boronict. For an uncomfortable moment, their eyes met. Garet looked away and reddened.
How can I be braver than this hero?
He forced himself to look at the young man again. The guard had reddened also, and Garet realized suddenly that he was just a young man, with all the worries and joys of other young men. Had he ever faced fear before? Wrapped in metal and armed with a deadly sword, what terror could he ever have conquered? Thinking this, Garet knew why he was a Bane and this young man a mere soldier. This time it was the guard who dropped his eyes.

Marick pulled at him. “Don't bother with the guards. They're just decoration!” He tugged harder. “Let's go before the sun sets and we have to return to the Hall!”

Allowing himself to be pulled through the gate, he was whisked past the guards without a nod or a challenge.

The plaza they entered was immense, grander than Old Torrick's, and Garet remembered at once the trader's tales he had loved so long ago. Far across the open space stood a building that would have spanned the new, wooden walls of Bangt and filled Old Torrick's market. The slanted light of the sun picked out a thousand glittering points that dazzled Garet's eyes.

With a trembling hand he pointed at the magnificent, four-story building and asked, “Are those jewels?”

It took a moment for Salick and Marick to understand the question, but squinting at the building, Salick finally saw what he was looking at and shook her head. “No, Garet, that's only the sun reflecting off glass and crystal. Any jewel King Trax has ends up on his clothes.”

“Or on his consorts,” Marick added. “Wouldn't you like the King to give you some jewels, Salick?” he simpered, batting his eyes at her and then scampering away to avoid her hand. “Don't worry. The King doesn't flirt with Banehall girls, even if they are of noble blood...” This time he wasn't fast enough, and Salick's hand caught him across the back of the head with a satisfying slap. Several people nearby laughed. An old man passing by with a huge basket of charcoal strapped to his back gave Salick a toothless smile and held up one hand, palm down and slapped down on it with his open hand to applaud her victory. Salick blushed a bit but kept her glare on Marick.

 “Oww, Salick!” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Don't fool around. Remember, we're supposed to be showing Garet the sights.”

Garet shook his head. He did not doubt that the little Bane's plans went far beyond a tour.

Salick's expression had not changed. She said in her sternest voice, “Once around the plaza. Quickly! And then back to the Banehall.”

“Of course, Salick.” Marick grabbed Garet's arm again and pulled him towards the centre of the plaza. “No more trouble.”

Salick followed them grimly.

By the time they reached the middle of the plaza, marked by a wide fountain of many jets, Garet felt as dizzy as if he had been spun like a top. He had of course imagined that the world held many more people than he had ever seen, but now, to actually see them all at once, thousands of people walking and talking, and jostling and yelling, and all in colourful tunics that flashed before his eyes until the colours merged, darkened, and....

“Hold him up, Marick,” Salick said, her voice coming from a mile away. He felt cold water on his brow and found himself sitting on the curb of the fountain with Salick's anxious face held close to his own. “Are you all right? Do you have a wound you haven't spoken of?”

Garet shook his head weakly. He tried to speak, but could only mumble, “So many people.”

“What's wrong with him?” Marick asked impatiently. He scanned the crowd as if looking for someone.

“Too much change in too little time, I think,” Salick replied and scooped up more water to poor down the back of Garet's neck.

Marick groaned. “Is that all? Come on, Garet. There's a place here that sells the best sugar drinks in all the Five Cities.” The young Bane fairly danced in his impatience. “It's just over by the Astrologer's stalls. Let's go!”

Salick grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit on the curb beside her. “Wait! How do you think you'd manage if I plucked you out of the Banehall and put you on a little sheep farm in the middle of nowhere with a father and brothers like that?”

Marick stopped fidgeting for a moment and looked at Garet thoughtfully. “I see what you mean.” He broke into a grin. “But I'd probably steal the sheep and run off before the end of the first week.” He reached across and grabbed Garet's hand. “Sorry! I know that everything must be so strange for you now.” He said, with one eye on Salick, “But don't you think that you'd feel much better with a cool, sweet drink in your belly?”

Salick sighed. “Marick, you are incorrigible.” She slapped the young Bane's hand from Garet's arm. “Never let me hear you tease Dorict about his appetite again!”

While the two argued, Garet tried to get his bearings. Directly in front of them, although at some distance now, was the gate through which they had entered. He could see the bridge beyond it, climbing to its apex before it curved down to the other side. To his left were the stalls Marick was interested in. The alleys between the canvas and pole shops were rivers of moving people as merchants called out their wares and buyers paused to argue over the price. Far to his right, three bright buildings, domed in blue and with white pillar walls, dominated the west side of the plaza. With his head clearing, Garet realized that they were temples, like the one they had stopped at yesterday. But here, they anchored a complex of buildings with surrounding fountains, gardens, and artificial ponds. Beside him, his friends' voices rose angrily.

Wishing to make peace, Garet said, “That's all right, Salick, Marick. I'm feeling better, and maybe I could use a drink.” He felt in his tunic pocket for the small bag of copper coins that Mandarack had returned to him. “I have some money.”