City of Demons (41 page)

“Well thrown!” he bellowed, causing a sudden silence in the buzz of the hall. Mandarack looked up momentarily before turning back to argue with Bandat and Arict. Several Golds and Greens took up the call, however, and the dust was shaken off the ceiling beams with the stomping and banging that accompanied the shouts.

Garet stood there, embarrassed beyond movement, but Salick took his elbow and led him past the chanting Banes to the end of the high table. The calls died down as Mandarack stood and motioned for silence.

“This has been a night that will be remembered for the next six-hundred years!” he began, to nods of agreement and nervous laughter. “Never before has a King of the Five Cities attacked a Banehall. That will be remembered. Never before has a Hallmaster led his Hall so near to disaster.”

At this, several Banes lowered their heads. Branet scowled at them, his injured leg propped up on a stool in front of him, Banerict fussing over it.

“That will be remembered as well,” Mandarack warned. The dining hall was silent as each pondered how future Banes would judge them. “But be cheered,” Mandarack continued, “for it will also be remembered that some who had been wrong saw their mistake in time, though it was only at the very last moment that it was given to them to choose.”

Beside Master Tarix, the Gold who had refused to attack Mandarack with his spear shivered and a little hot water spilled from the bowl he held for Master Relict. Tarix reached out from her wheeled chair and put a hand on his arm to steady him.

“But, when all else is forgotten or changed, it will be remembered that Garet, a Blue of this Hall, by a single courageous act, changed everything,” Mandarack said, looking down at the discomfited young Bane. “And saved everything.”

A cheer went up in the Hall. Even Adrix's erstwhile supporters found themselves caught up in the celebration, raising their voices, building fellowship again and beginning to heal the breach between themselves and the victors.

Garet, still not sure of how he felt about crippling a fellow Bane, hunched his shoulders and took the nearest route out of the dining hall, into the kitchen. The air was warm and moist as a few sleepy cooks, summoned at Mandarack's orders, set about making a very early breakfast for the Hall. Garet stood there, smelling the baking bread, and the aroma of the onions and spices to be mixed into the huge pots of porridge simmering in the hearths. The cooks ignored him, too concentrated on their own tasks to worry about a Blue wandering into their kingdom. Salick caught up with him. She was alone.

“Garet?” she began, tentatively. She stood beside him, not touching him, her eyes concerned.

“I'm not that!” he said. The smells and noise of the kitchen seemed the only protection he had against what he feared in the dining hall.

“What?” she asked. She moved to stand in front of him and bent a bit to look into his downcast eyes. “What aren't you?” She still did not touch him.

Garet took a deep breath full of the scent of bread. “I'm not someone worth cheering for,” he told her, looking up to see her blue eyes. “What I did was...” he hesitated, “...wasn't done for cheering, or congratulations.” He stomped a foot in frustration. “If I were my father, I'd be in there accepting their praise and their drinks, bathing in that glory like a pig in a mud hole. But I'd rather be necklaced then be like... Oh, I wish no one had ever seen me throw that clawed stone!”

A slow smile spread over Salick's face. “No, I don't suppose you acted for the fame of it,” she said. Then she did take his hands in hers. “You did it to save Master Mandarack.”

“Yes...” he said, thinking for a moment. “I did. But that wasn't a demon I hit. It was a man,” he explained. He turned back to her, eyes pleading for understanding. “When I did it, I didn't care what happened to Adrix, and when I saw him on the ground, I felt nothing, not at first.” He wiped the moisture off his face. The great bread ovens set in the hearths had been opened to reveal dozens of brown loaves. The cooks slid in long, wooden paddles to lift them from the hot bricks and set them on wooden racks to cool. Looking at them, Garet suddenly remembered that Banfreat, the first Banemaster of Shirath, had been a baker. He wondered if the first weapon used against a demon had been a baker's paddle.

“Why should you feel anything for him?” Salick asked, puzzled at his words. She brushed back a limp strand of hair.

They stood to one side as wooden trays, stacked high with loaves, were carried past them into the dining hall.

“Because he's a human being, not a demon!” Garet said. “He lay on the ground screaming, maybe crippled for life, and all anyone can say is ‘good throw'!”

When the remaining cook looked up from stirring one of the porridge pots and frowned at this outburst, Garet strode out into the kitchen yard. The moon had set, but the sun was now just below the horizon, giving the baskets and carts a pearly grey sheen. It was so cold that the snow had crusted into ice, and the Banes' feet crunched through this thin layer as they walked out into the yard.

“But he is an evil man!” argued Salick, her hands stuck under her armpits, and her breath steaming.

“And so is my father. And your father. And Marick's mother who left him alone on the streets of Torrick. And how many men and women in this city?” he asked. The sky was moving from grey to the fragile blue of a cloudless dawn. “Should they all be crippled? What right do I have to judge them, to hurt them?” he spat out the words. “And what right does anyone else have to tell me what I did was right?”

“None, I suppose,” spoke a quiet voice behind them.

Garet turned and saw Mandarack standing in the doorway.

“You had two choices, Garet: to act or not to act,” the old Bane said. He drew his twisted arm behind him with his good hand and took a step out into the yard. “Adrix's crimes would have become even more terrible. You chose not to let that happen,” he said.

Garet hesitated for a moment then nodded for the Master to continue. Salick stood to one side, watching them and shivering a bit.

“We applaud your skill, because it is a true skill, whatever use it is put to. And we applaud your decision to act, because it shows that you are a true Bane—you protect your people,” Mandarack explained. He turned to Salick. “I do not rejoice at Master Adrix's pain, even though I know he meant to kill me,” he told her. “He has acted in an evil way, but he has also killed many demons in his day—and bears the scars to prove it.”

Salick's hand went to her cheek, one finger touching the small, curved scar. “I'm sorry, Master,” she said, hand still on her cheek. “It is wrong to enjoy another's pain, but when I saw him attack...” she trailed off. Her hand dropped and she looked at the ground.

“I honour your concern for me, Salick. And,” he added, turning to face Garet again, “your protection. But this war with the King, and within this Hall will not be won through hate, but through forgiveness and agreement.” He nodded at them and turned to go back into the Hall.

“Master!” Garet called. “Would you have killed Adrix if I hadn't stopped him?”

Mandarack paused for a long moment in the doorway and finally turned his head to answer. “Yes, if there was no other way, I would have tried. But like you, I would have found no joy in it.”

When they were alone again, Salick shook her head and said in a low voice, “I'm sorry, Garet. Maybe I don't understand you, either of you.” She stepped close to him and put her arm around him. “I can't help but take satisfaction in Adrix's pain. He got what he deserved.” She sniffed in the cold air. “I suppose I'm just more cruel than you,” she joked, but her eyes brimmed with tears.

He shook his head and touched his cheek to hers. “No! Remember that night on the bridge? You can't imagine how I felt when you were injured!” He took a deep breath. “If Adrix had been attacking you in the courtyard instead of the Master, I would have smashed his skull with that stone and danced on his corpse,” he said savagely.

Looking a little shocked, Salick held him out at arm's length and looked into his eyes. “I suppose I'm glad then that it wasn't me he was after,” she said. She linked arms with him and they went quietly back through the warm kitchen into the dining hall.

After a quick breakfast, Garet slept throughout the day and woke again just before supper. Dorict and Marick still snored gently under their blankets, so tired from the night before that they had only pulled off their boots before dropping into sleep. He sat up and scratched his head, feeling nothing more than a great need to be clean. A fresh tunic and pants under his arm, he threw on a robe and slipped out the door. The floor was icy on his bare feet and he half skipped down the hall to the stairs. Two flights down, the common washrooms were thankfully empty. He dreaded more congratulations for his actions of the night before. Filtering through the frost on the small windows, the late afternoon light spun with dust motes when he dropped his clothes on the counter. He bent over a basin of water, picked up a sponge, and began to scrub and shiver himself awake.

Clean, invigorated and freshly dressed, he ran back up the stairs as fast as he could, keeping his head down when he met other Banes.
Not that that's much use
, he thought; his black hair marked him more clearly than any sash or uniform. He ignored any calls in his direction, rubbing at his ears with a towel to pretend temporary deafness. Marick was pushing at Dorict, trying to rouse him when Garet re-entered their room.

“Get up, you slug!” Marick demanded, pulling at his friend's shoulder. Dorict only grumbled in response and burrowed deeper into his blankets. With Garet's help, Marick got him upright and then pulled the blankets out of the sleepy Blue's reach.

Dorict shivered and opened his eyes a crack. “Why are we getting up so early?” he grumbled. One toe touched the floor and he jerked his foot back.

“Look at the light!” cried Marick, waving one hand towards the window. “It's practically night again. Anything could have happened by now!” He threw Dorict's clothes at him and scrambled into his own uniform. “Hurry up!” he said, pulling the tunic over his head. “I refuse to be left out just because I'm a Blue!”

Towing the protesting Dorict, his two friends dashed back down the stairs to the front of the hall. There was much coming and going through the front doors. Garet could see four armed Golds standing in the slanting light of the courtyard. Someone called down from the roof, and they opened the Gate to let in a patrol of fifteen Banes, led by Relict. The Red waved to them as he entered the hall but, much to Marick's disgust, did not pause to give them any news. Instead, the Master passed them by and practically trotted to the Records room. Marick managed to get a peek inside before the door was closed on him.

“Master Mandarack is there,” he reported. “So is Master Tarix and Master Bandat.” He pulled them into the dining hall. “Lots of Golds too. I saw Salick there.” He smiled smugly. “At least we'll know sooner or later.”

Garet wasn't so sure. Salick's sense of duty towards the Hall was absolute. He doubted that even her new feelings for him would cause her to break trust with the Masters. As they entered the dining hall, he pushed Marick and Dorict to the back of the cavernous room, away from the other diners.

Marick looked at him quizzically. “Does the praise you've gotten really bother you that much?” he asked. “Don't worry, people will forget it soon enough.” Looking darkly at the few Masters seated at the head table, he added, “It's the bad deeds that are never forgotten.”

“In that case, you'll always be a legend in this Hall!” Vinir's voice sounded behind them. When she raised her hand to ruffle Marick's hair, Garet saw by the flash of gold that she had been promoted to the rank she deserved.

Tongue-tied, Marick could only grumble happily.

“Can you tell us what's been happening?” Garet asked Salick, who had appeared on his other side.