City of Demons (29 page)

A young woman near the hearth looked up and nodded. Part of the hearth had been closed in with hasty brick work to form a glass-blower's furnace. Dasanat carefully examined the glob of molten glass on the end of her pipe. Shaking her head, she placed that end carefully back in the furnace before standing back and wiping the beads of sweat from her face.

Andarack sat back down and resumed his conversation with the Banes, but kept an eye on the furnace. “Forgive me, but if the temperature is wrong, the beakers made from that glass will shatter when heated.” He reluctantly turned back to them. “I thank you for your troubles, Salick and...” he paused, his eyes on Garet.

“My name is Garet, Lord Andarack.” He stood and sketched his best bow. “Your brother brought me here from the Midlands.”

Andarack's eyes lit up. “Did he indeed?” He grabbed Garet's elbow and steered him to where several of the hall's chairs had been placed beneath the narrow windows. “Sit here,” he directed and quickly sat beside him. He gently turned Garet's head this way and that, examining his black hair and brown eyes in the shafts of sunlight. “Is it true that the field snakes of the Midlands carry their young wrapped around them until they are grown?” he asked eagerly.

“I don't know, sir,” Garet was forced to admit. “I lived in the foothills on the eastern borders of the Plains. We had no field snakes there.” He paused, unsure what else to say.

“The foothills, hmmm?” Andarack said. He leaned back in the chair and tugged at a strand of his greying hair. “What do you know of the rocks in that area?”

Garet panicked for a moment, thinking for a wild moment that Andarack wanted him to show off his skill at throwing stones, but then realized that the Ward Lord was speaking of rocks in general.

Salick's patience announced its end with a cleared throat and a slight stamping of her foot to gain their attention. “Lord Andarack, I'm sure Garet can tell you much of the stones on his farm, which seemed to be all stones to me, but your brother said that this was an urgent message.” She removed the slip of paper from her boot and presented it impatiently to Andarack.

“Of course, of course,” he said, unfolding the letter and stepping with it into the light of the window. “But you and I, Garet, will have to speak of those foothills soon.” He read the message quickly, then went over it again, pulling at the strand of his long hair. When he had finished the second reading, he frowned and folded the letter, putting it securely inside his tunic. He turned to the Banes again. “Your Master, my older brother, asks much, Salick.” He held up a hand to stop her before she could rise to Mandarack's defense. “I know. What he asks is necessary,” he added, voice lowered. “Though very dangerous, especially in these distrustful times.” He looked at her carefully. “Tell my brother that I agree, but that I will need the help of a few Banes who can be trusted.” He gave a slight nod of his head in dismissal. “Come again tomorrow, and we'll get started. Now, you'll excuse me for not showing you out, but she is always too impatient with the heating.” He turned back to the bustle and noise of the hall, making his way to where Dasanat was again examining the ball of molten glass.

Salick shook her head and looked at Garet. He shrugged his shoulders in response, and they left the Ward Lord's house.

When they were standing in the lane again, Salick asked Garet if he would mind returning to the Banehall on his own so that she could have a private visit with her uncle. He readily agreed. Draneck's refusal to return home would be a hard piece of news for her uncle to hear. Salick would not want any outsiders there to witness his grief. He walked back to the Banehall, thinking of what he had seen at Lord Andarack's. The ability to surprise, he decided, must run in that family.

Later that evening, long after supper was ended and the evening patrols had left, Salick came to the room the three Blues shared. She tapped on the door, and when Dorict opened it, slipped quickly inside.

“I need to talk to all three of you,” she said. Dorict shot her a worried look, but Marick rubbed his hands together joyfully.

“At last, Salick,” he said. “You can tell us what's going on!” He pulled her over to sit on one of the room's rickety chairs. Dorict and Garet took the other two chairs while Marick perched nervously on the edge of his rumpled bed. “Go on!” he pleaded.

“You've all three proved yourselves to be...” she eyed Marick and searched for the a term that could include the young Bane, “...loyal.”

Squatting on his bed, Marick executed a graceless bow.

With a sigh, Salick continued, “That loyalty will have to be as strong as a Basher's hide tonight. Master Mandarack wants us to assist him in preparations for defending this city, preparations that Adrix refuses to make!”

Garet held up a hand. “Wait a minute, Salick. Preparations for what? Does Master Mandarack intend to take over the Banehall?” Dorict's mouth fell open, and Marick leaned forward expectantly.

“No, he doesn't,” Salick replied, regret evident in her tone. “But the Master feels that the way the demons attack this city is changing,” she continued, her eyes challenging them. “And we must change with it!”

Marick sat back again. “What changes?” he asked suspiciously. “Demons appear and we kill them!”

“The two demons travelling together,” Dorict supplied. “We didn't need to change to kill one and chase off the other,” Marick replied.

“The lack of fear near the Shrieker at the temple,” Garet added.

“It still didn't save the beast!” Marick protested.

“And the demons appearing in the Midlands, in case you've forgotten,” Salick concluded.

The small Bane held up his hands. “All right, all right! I know that things have been a bit different, but what can we do except deal with every demon that appears?”

“If we can't sense them, we can't find them,” Garet said grimly.

“Except by following the bodies,” Dorict added. He eyed his friend. “Marick, you're the last person I would have thought to be against change.”

“Maybe it's because I've already had more changes in my life than even Garet here,” Marick replied ruefully. He grinned. “Besides, chaos is no fun if it's not of your own making. It's harder to steal the furniture when someone is pulling the rug out from under your feet!”

Salick smiled at him. “Knowing you, you'll find a way to steal that rug before it's left the floor.” Her voice became serious again. “The Master's brother is helping us. We are to go to his workshop tomorrow after breakfast.”

“But we'll miss Master Tarix's practice,” Marick protested.

“Master Tarix is aware of what's going on,” Salick replied. “She will train with you when she coaches Garet, before breakfast.”

Dorict looked unhappy at this news, but Marick nodded, relieved. Salick rose to go just as a bell sounded loudly from the floors below.

“A call for reinforcing the Ward patrols!” Marick cried. He darted for the door but was restrained by Salick. “No, listen to the pattern. It's only for Golds and any Masters left in the Hall.” She opened the door, but turned to glare at them. “Stay here, all of you.” She slammed the door in her haste to answer the alarm.

It was a long evening for the three Blues left behind. Dorict and Garet made an attempt to quiz each other on the House Rules text, but were too distracted to concentrate. Marick strapped on his shield and battled the air, well away from the nervous Dorict. By the time the candles had burned low, they heard the sound of returning Banes in the halls below. Marick had almost persuaded his friends to join him in spying out some information when a knock sounded on their door, and Garet opened it to reveal a tired and dispirited Salick.

“It's bad,” she said, stumbling into the room. She collapsed on the chair Garet had been sitting in moments before.

He hurriedly poured a cup of water from the jug and handed it to her.

Salick gulped it down and held the empty cup out for more. When she had finished, she wiped her mouth slowly and looked at the three Blues. There were shadows under her eyes, and her nose was red.

“It's bad,” she repeated. “A Basher got into those crowded three-story courtyards in the Fourth Ward.” She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. “The patrol had no sense of it, until they heard the screams and the walls coming down. The people nearest it didn't run, or even try to hide. Sandact said they just stood there, as if they had no fear at all.” She looked at Garet meaningfully, and he remembered the pull he had felt from the demon near the ruined Temple market.

“There are many dead, including two Banes, Shonirat and Dalict,” she continued, her voice flat with fatigue. “Both Golds,” she added for Garet's information.

She had not needed to, for Garet knew them both. They had often shown up to get in some extra practice before breakfast while Garet worked with Tarix on mastering the rope-hammer. They had both been friendly and curious about his unusual weapon. Dalict had even been willing to show him something of wielding a trident. Now they were dead. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes.

“They died when the building collapsed,” Salick said. “By the time they knew where the demon was, there was already so much damage that the walls were falling down. Over a hundred people are dead or missing. The Ward guards and Lord Andarack's mechanicals are shifting the rubble now.”

She stood up and walked to the window. This high up, one could see over the plaza wall into the Wards. Lights appeared in window after window as the terrible news spread through the city. Salick let the curtain fall but did not turn.

Dorict asked, “Is the Basher . . ?” but his voice skipped and he couldn't finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Salick replied, still facing the covered window. “Master Relict pushed a section of wall down on it. Vinir made the kill.”

“Good!” Marick cried, jumping off the bed. “Adrix will have to make her a Gold now.” He restrained himself when he saw Salick's face. “I just meant that, well, at least some good...” he trailed off, then sat back down, arms folded and glum.

“Was Farix there?” Garet asked suddenly. He jumped up from his seat on his bed, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“No!” Salick spat out, her tone savage. “Adrix kept his favourites out of trouble, said they needed to ‘protect the Hall in these dangerous times'.”

“So he finally admits to the danger?” Dorict asked, unbelieving. The young Bane had not moved from his seat since Salick had entered the room.

“Not from the demons, Dorict,” Salick told him. “He fears he might be challenged for control of the Hall if he leaves it or loses any of his followers to demons.”

“Does a Hallmaster usually fight demons, Salick?” Garet asked.

“All Banes fight,” Salick replied. She walked slowly back to the door. “Remember to meet me after breakfast, by the west bridge gate.” She yawned, covering her mouth with a hand and leaning against the door. “If anything, this proves the need for Master Mandarack's plan.” As Salick opened the door slightly and turned to slide through it, the yellow light from the lantern fixed at the head of the stairs glistened on her wet cheek. She closed the door softly behind her, as if any noise would be an offense against the heavy silence the Hall kept this night.

After a restless night, the three friends made their way down to practice in the gymnasium. Tarix was glum, and merely set them on familiar routines before leaving the room. They moved dispiritedly through their swings and thrusts until the bell signalled breakfast.

None of the usual chattering of young Banes filled the dining hall this morning. The heavy silence was broken only by the scrape of chair legs on the floor or the clink of a spoon against a bowl. As they entered, Dorict led Garet towards the Golds' table where a line of Banes of all ranks walked slowly past two empty chairs. As each Bane passed, he or she touched the sash draped over the back of each chair. Garet did the same as he passed by, letting his fingers run over the soft gold threads. Master Branet, who had trained both Dalict and Shonirat, sat at the high table beside Tarix, his face grey and his shoulders slumped.

When everyone in the hall had paid tribute to the fallen Banes and seated themselves in their appropriate sections, Adrix rose.

“Banes of Shirath,” he began, his small eyes moving back and forth across the faces turned towards him. “We have but one question to answer on the day after this disaster, on the day after the worst loss of life to demon attack in a hundred years.” He paused to let a murmur of anticipation pass. He suddenly slammed a hand down on the table in front of him. “That question is, who is to blame?” he shouted. The hall erupted into surprise and accusation.

Master Branet, shocked out of his grief, made to rise, but Tarix laid a restraining hand on his arm.

Adrix continued, one hand out to the empty chairs. “This disaster is the result of poor training, of Banes advanced too quickly, and under poor supervision.”