City of Masks (23 page)

“What do I want?” Shirin asked. “I’ll tell you, Bane. I want you to see me! I want you to see that someone else is as worthy as a Heaven Blessed Bane. I want you to stop looking down on me as some play-actor waving a sword while you attend to all the important business of the city!”

She fell to her knees and pounded her fists on the floor. “I want you to say that we matter, to know that we want to protect Shirath too. That is what we want, Bane, yet you despise us. Is it any wonder we hate you?”

Garet knelt where he was and looked at the sobbing woman. The planted spear still swayed.

“No,” he said. “It’s no wonder at all. Shirin, I once felt as you, that I mattered to no one in this world. That changed for me when I came to Shirath. It changed because I killed a demon. You’ve done the same.”

He took a deep breath and edged closer. He reached one hand out to touch the fist still clenched on the floor.

“I honour what you have done, Shirin. By Heaven’s Dome, I swear it! I see you now as I should have seen you then, had I been wiser. I would be your friend, and your ally in protecting Shirath.”

“No,” she wept, “you are my enemy. You have to be!”

There was a rustling and creaking around the building. Shadows moved across the narrow windows set with scraped parchment instead of glass.

Shinock spit out Dorict’s cuff and yelled at his niece, “They’ve brought the guard, Shirin. Run! Save yourself!”

The door shuddered, cracked, and fell open. A squad of Ward Guards filled the room, and all found blades at their throats.

“Let those two be,” someone said, and Garet looked sideways to see Lord Sacourat enter behind her guards. The sword was removed, and he stood to face her. Shirin and Shinock were being secured. In Shinock’s case, that just meant keeping out of the way of his teeth. Shirin was bound in chains at both wrist and ankle. She kept her head low, refusing to look at either Garet or the Ward Lord.

“Well, Banes,” Sacourat said, “It seems you’ve found a wanted criminal, and I’ve found you, so I will take charge of them. This is my Ward after all.”

She smiled, and the guards dragged Shirin and her uncle out into the alleys of the Maze. The Mask resisted only once, pausing at the door to shoot Garet a look he couldn’t interpret.

“How did you find us, Lord Sacourat?” Dorict asked. He had recovered his club and disposed of his hat.

“Oh, I know all that goes on in this Ward, Bane. And you, aren’t you the Midlander? Yes, you were at that confusion near my house the other night, weren’t you?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Garet replied. He sketched a short bow, and Dorict copied him.

“I wish you had been quicker to stop, well, to save my house,” she said. “I’m sure the Masks were at fault, weren’t they?”

“No, I think that the demon was more to blame.”

Sacourat flinched at the word and narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps. Well, I must go now and deliver these two to the King.”

“A show of loyalty, Lord Sacourat?” Garet asked, and Dorict drew in breath at the rudeness of the question, but Sacourat merely laughed.

“Loyalty must be displayed to have value, Bane. Tell Branet that the Fifth Ward keeps faith with the Banehall. Good-bye.”

Garet and Dorict were left alone in the storeroom. The Green pulled the spear out of the floor, needing both hands and several attempts to do this. He shouldered the weapon and looked at Dorict.

“Where’s your hat?” he asked.

His companion scratched his blonde hair and smiled.

“I had to shove it in Shinock’s mouth. The guards were afraid to come near him.”

ALTHOUGH IT WAS
still mid-afternoon, the clouds had stolen most of the light from the sky. In a tower near the Lord’s House in the Thirteenth Ward, Gost lit a lamp and looked his question to the largest man in the room.

“No, Sir,” the giant in a guard’s uniform said. “They took her straight to the King, and he’s locked her up. The proclamation was posted in the Palace Plaza. I brought a copy.”

Tarock, who had been reading the notice of Shirin’s arrest, handed it to Gost.

The older man threw it across the room and rounded on the Guard Captain. The big man flinched at his tone.

“Maroster, you are the Captain of my Ward’s guards. Your job was to control Shirin until she was no longer useful. You failed.”

The guard shook his head. Though he towered over the older man, his face was covered with a sheen of sweat.

“Please, Sir! I told you she was crazed when you suggested this plan. She cares for nothing but killing demons and spiting the Banehall. We would have had to remove her sooner or later, why not let the King do it for us?”

Gost looked up from his untidy desk. Bills of lading, letters, promissory notes, and pleas for mercy lay scattered across it. He fixed Maroster with a mocking gaze.

“Why? Because she will talk, you fool! She knows who I am; she knows Tarock here, and the trader Chirat, and you. Do you relish the thought of having a collar around your neck and digging ditches for the next ten years? Or what about exile? Fancy a trip through the demon-haunted wilderness in hopes of finding another city that will take us in?”

He slammed a palm down on his desk. “You should have killed her rather than bid her hide! She’s a threat to both me and my Ward.”

There was a swish of fabric, and a soft, feminine voice drifted into the room. “Your Ward, Uncle Gost? I’m sure you meant to say Lord Kirel’s Ward. My husband is under the impression that he rules, and you only advise.”

Maroster stepped aside to let Lady Kaela into Gost’s audience room. Tarock stood, and with a bow a bit too deep and a smile a bit too broad, he pulled up his chair for her.

With a sigh of relief, she sat down. “Thank you, Tarock. We see so much of you these days, and it is always such a pleasure. I do, however, need to speak to my uncle. Perhaps you and the Captain could leave us alone for a moment?”

Tarock glanced at Gost, who nodded, and he left the room with Maroster at his heels. Kaela fanned herself though the day was cloudy and cool.

“Oh dear! This child had better come soon or I’ll perish from exhaustion. Even coming the short distance from our house and climbing the stairs to your charming lair tires me.”

Gost poured her a glass of wine, which she refused, took one for himself, and sat across from her.

“Then why make the trip at all? Is there some particular reason you want to talk to me?” He regarded his nephew’s wife over the crystal rim of his goblet.

She smiled and continued fanning.

“Really Gost, can’t I just want to visit you? Though, to tell the truth, there was a small matter I wish settled.”

Gost waited.

“I would like you to sever all ties with the Masks,” Kaela said. “For now, at least.”

There was a silence in the room for many moments until Gost put his glass down on a small table and rested the tips of his fingers together.

“What an extraordinary thing to say, Kaela! I have no connection to these renegades. Perhaps I should summon Lord Kirel. He should know if your
condition
is creating such fantasies in your mind.”

Kaela snapped her fan shut. She leaned forward, and her gaze was anything but delicate. “Do you look down on all women in my
condition
, Uncle, or is it just all women? No, I really think you look down on everyone. It is a foolish habit to disparage one’s allies. It turns them into enemies.”

“I know how to deal with enemies,” Gost replied. He picked up the glass again and studied the blood-red wine within. Outside the door Maroster could be heard telling a steward to come back later.

Kaela began fanning herself again. “That’s good, since you are making so many new enemies for our Ward. And all because you moved too quickly. The Banehall, the King, the other Ward Lords—well, all except Sharock of the Twelfth. Yes, don’t look so surprised! I know of your dealings with her and Chirat’s trading group. These Masks are becoming a liability, and your plans are not so hidden as you might think, Gost.”

Her host put his glass down again, and the wine sloshed over the side. He stood up and loomed over the woman. “Tell me what you know. I demand it!” he shouted.

Kaela’s reply was pure ice. “Sit down, Uncle. You’ll burst your heart, and I need you alive to clean this mess up before we are all cast out into the wilderness.”

When Gost stepped back in surprise and resumed his seat, she continued.

“The Masks were never meant to replace the Banes in this city! Only a mad fool like Shirin would believe that. No, but they might serve another purpose, especially if you have more silkstone than you’ve told them.”

“I deny all of this,” Gost growled. He spilled more wine when he grabbed the glass again.

“Tut, tut, Uncle. You’ll ruin that fine coat if you aren’t careful. Now, where were we? Ah yes, silkstone. With more of that magical rock, you could build up a good number of Masks. Still not enough to replace all the Banes, but enough to protect a new, smaller town. The King has been planning to expand the city, hasn’t he, but I believe he favours a new Wall set out from the present one, not a new settlement. It would be hard to rule another town from a distance, so he would never agree to it—unless he had to.”

She closed the fan and tapped it against the arm of her chair.

“These Masks are your plan to make the King grant your wish, the creation of a new town, no, a new
city
ruled by you. You created a crisis whose only solution is a mass exile of the Masks. Half the city praises them for killing demons—oh don’t look so surprised, I’m no market girl to shrink at the word. The other half condemns them for attacking those Banes. You’ll let this pot boil to the point of civil war, and, when enough people have died, you’ll go to the King and nobly offer yourself as a sacrifice to lead the Masks and as many others as you can trick into following you to this new kingdom, the Kingdom of Gost!”

“Maroster!” Gost called out, and the Captain of the Guards stepped quickly within.

“Kaela, you are really wasted as a consort! You should have been a Lord in your own right. Does Kirel know about this?”

Kaela seemed unconcerned by the two men, both armed with daggers, standing near her.

“Kirel? No, my gentle Uncle. He knows sewers and building plans and the number of fields we have in turnips, but not about this.”

“And do you mean to tell him?” Gost asked. Maroster closed the door.

“You are so tiresome at times, Gost,” Kaela said. She held out her hand, and her uncle helped her to her feet.

“I’ve said that you turn allies to enemies too easily,” she said, frowning. “Don’t presume to do that with me. I want you to leave. I would praise Heaven’s Mercy if you got your new city and sat on its throne.”

“Why?” Gost asked. One hand drifted down to the blade hanging from his belt.

Kaela looked up into his eyes, and his hand stayed.

“Because, Uncle, until then neither Kirel nor I, and perhaps not even our child, would be safe from your ambition. I am quite content with the ruling of the Thirteenth Ward. So you see, we are allies after all.”

Gost escorted her to the door. Maroster stood aside and opened it.

“Have no fear, Niece, I shall, how did you put it? Oh yes, clean up this mess.”

Kaela smiled and managed an awkward curtsy.

“I know you will. Now Captain, can you help me down these stairs? I am really too fragile to be out in my condition.”

“
SACOURAT IS A
snake,” Tarix said across the unsteady body of Kesla.

Garet nodded in full agreement. The woman had seemed to slither in her eagerness to gain favour with the King.

They were helping the injured Gold walk around the bottom floor of the Hall so that she could regain her balance and get some exercise. In consideration of Tarix’s leg, Kesla put most of her weight on Garet’s shoulder. He didn’t exactly mind, but felt he was the one getting the exercise.

They turned a corner, and Tarix continued. “If she weren’t so anxious to help the King, I’d think she was behind the Masks.”

They passed the front doors and saw team after team going out into the Plaza. The patrols were almost constant now, with Banes getting but a few hours sleep before going out again. There was talk of changing the patrols in hopes of catching the demons before they could do any damage. It was Tarix’s opinion that they had been lucky so far. Only a few Banes like Kesla had been injured, and there had been no deaths since the horrifying attack in the Fifth Ward.

Garet had no hope that such luck would continue. The Masks had gone to ground, and that made things harder, for the number of attacks had not decreased. The best Blue Sashes were being added to teams to make up the difference, but Garet feared that might lead to more injuries as the inexperienced Banes were thrust into battle. These were the things they talked of while they walked.