City of Masks (42 page)

The other Banes dropped into the mud, soot, and blood at their feet while the demons died and the odd arrow missed its target to pass through the very place they had been standing a moment before.

Tarix spit out a mouthful of red grass. She turned her head to look at Corix, who lay beside her. “I’m going to have a word with Andarack when this is over,” she said.

Corix nodded. “You can have as many words as you want, and I’ll hold him down while you say them, but when you’re done, I want the plans to that demon-slaying machine!”

AFTER THE ARROWS
had finished, and the machine had ceased its noise, Trax yelled, “Now, from both sides. Let none live!”

The trap closed. Branet held the centre of the line. Trax and Bixa came from the sides, and Tarix rose up with Banes of every coloured sash to strike from behind. Men and women still fell, for the creatures were as savage in defeat as they were in victory, but the demons were stopped, surrounded, and finally beaten. Salick and Vinir killed the last, a Digger that was desperately trying to tunnel its way through the rocks of the bridge so that it could attack them from below.

The wind shifted, and the smoke cleared from the bridge. Garet looked among the still standing, for he was too fearful to search among the fallen. He saw Vinir limping, one arm around a companion, a Bane without a sash. Salick raised her eyes and saw him. They stood looking at each other for a long while until Bixa, who had some sense of the importance of the moment, could restrain her groans no longer, and Garet had to help her to the carts brought for the wounded.

Trax stood over the body of a woman dressed in black and bearing the broken shaft of a pike. He looked up as Garet joined him.

“I still don’t know her name, but it seems I spoke the truth to her. It was by her lessons that I survived.”

A member of the King’s Guard, double-masked like the King, came and held out Trax’s sword. It was bloody to the hilts.

“Found it in a big beast’s belly,” the guard said. His knees wobbled with exhaustion.

Trax put a hand on his shoulder and took the blade from him. “It was kind of you to return it, Shorfor,” he said.

“It was kinder of you to put it there,” the guard replied. “That thing was trying to tear me apart!”

Trax knelt and straightened the purple sash that lay across the small woman’s body. He then placed his sword on the woman’s chest and folded her hands over it.

“Shorfor, when the demons’ jewels are removed and the priests come, please tell them that the sword must remain with her until they take her to the burning grounds, and if any relative should come to the funeral, the sword must go to them.”

“Why?” asked Garet. He looked at the King and saw tears creeping out from the bottom of the mask to wet his collar.

“Because I cannot leave her a mask in honour of her deeds. Those must stay with us for the city’s defense. I think she would agree with that. But I must praise her in some way, Garet, though she hate me even more from Heaven for doing it.”

They turned to watch Banes stumbling around the field and the bridge, chopping open the skulls of the fallen demons, removing their jewels and piling them upon the stones of the road.

“What will you do with them?” Trax asked and attempted to scratch at some itch hidden under the doubled mask.

“We’ll put them in that silkstone arrow-thrower for now,” Branet said. He had come up behind the pair while they talked.

“They should be taken north, to the depository in the hills,” the Hallmaster added, “but I fear to send any in that direction until we are sure no more demons wait there.”

And so the jewels were piled into the box, while Andarack, Dasanat, and their guards made do with huddling at the back of the machine until it was closed up and all the hatches sealed.

“Your trap worked,” Salick said to Garet. They walked together towards the Palace Plaza, behind the cart that bore an absurdly grinning Vinir. There was singing coming from the windows of the Fourth Ward. People did not yet dare come out into the streets, but their voices did.

“They think we’ve won,” Garet said.

“
I THOUGHT I’D
find you here,” Tarix said. She leaned against the doorframe and smiled. “Of course, that was after I thought I’d find you in the Dining Hall, or in the Training Room, or perhaps in the Records Room.”

Garet stood up from his old chair and closed the book he had been reading, his old, much-corrected copy of Moret’s
Demonary
.

“How did you even know I was in the Hall?” he asked.

“By Salick’s smile . . . and besides, the King is here and you’re his shadow these days,” his former Master replied. She took the book from his hand and flipped through the pages. “We’ll have a lot more to add to this book, and there will be new manuals to write, I fear. Would you care to return to the Hall and take up that task?”

Garet smiled. He had been thinking of such things, sitting at his old desk and looking at the notes and drawings he had made, but everything in this room seemed part of his past, not his future.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to argue that with the King and the Historian, for it seems they both find me indispensible.”

Tarix clapped him on the shoulder, then ruffled his hair. “So young to be so important! I am humbled to have had some part in your rise to greatness. Come then, O Hero of the City, we are all meeting to make some sense of events.”

They went down the main stairs and into the Dining Hall. The doors were closed, and Ratal stood guard. He was somewhat battered by recent events: his moustache was singed, and he sported a magnificient black eye.

“Claws, what happened to you, Ratal?” Garet asked. “Did you find a demon that could punch?”

The big Gold shook his head. “No,” he replied. “After the battle, I told Kesla we’d make a fine couple, and this was her reply!” He stroked the remaining half of his moustache and opened the door for them.

“So that was a no then?” Garet asked.

Tarix shook her head. “Perhaps,” she replied, “but remember, it was Kesla, so it could have been an overly enthusiastic ‘yes’. Ah, to be young again!”

When they went in, the grinning Gold closed the door behind them.

“At last you rooted him out, Tarix,” the King said. He slouched in a chair beside Branet, a cup of wine in his hand.

“Oh, don’t frown at my glass,” Trax said. He raised the wine in salute and drained it off. “I’ve been drinking since the troubles of yesterday, and I intend to keep drinking until I can sleep.”

Branet gently took the cup away. “Easy, my friend. There’s many a Bane that’s tried that particular remedy . . . much to their sorrow. If you work and train, then sleep of some kind will come.”

“And the nightmares?” Bixa asked. Dark circles lay under her eyes.

“The price of a demon’s death,” Corix said. “And we all pay it.”

She poured Bixa and the King tea from a pot left in the centre of the table.

Trax forced himself to sit up and took the cup Bixa passed with her one working hand. He sipped it and shuddered.

“Well, I’ve had enough of playing Bane, Hallmaster, so we had better come up with a way of defending the city that doesn’t include me wearing a mask.”

“Arrow throwers on the walls,” Corix said. She tapped a sheaf of drawings laid out in front of her. “Lord Andarack is lending my Hall a pair of mechanicals to build the first and train our smiths.”

“A good start,” Branet said and scratched his unshaved cheek. “But we cannot count on stopping them outside the walls, especially if they attack at night. We will, I fear, have to split the Hall as Tarix suggested and place Banes in each Ward.”

Tarix smiled. She laid a hand on the ex-Bane beside her. “It was Garet’s idea that I stole, Hallmaster, but I thank you for agreeing. I know this is not what you wanted.”

“It is not! But I have little choice, thanks to the harsh lessons of the past weeks. Now, are there any other tactics that might save us lives? We have thirteen Banes going to the Temple today, and only seven Masks survived the battle.”

Tarix lost her smile. She looked down at her scarred hands before she spoke. “That is not the full tally. Master Bandat may yet lose her arm, and Taron will be laid up for a month, Banerict says. His infirmary holds three other Reds and a depressing number of Golds and Greens. Who knows how many will return to their patrols?”

Garet spoke into the silence. “It was a dear price, but it bought us much. We know that trained Masks are as effective as Banes. Yesterday also proved that the arrow thrower works for more than messages, and what’s more, we’ve seen masked archers kill demons. Perhaps if Banes wear masks, they can use bows without fear of hitting each other.”

While the others considered this, Garet turned to Trax and asked, “Are Lord Andarack and Master Mechanical Dasanat making more masks with the silkstone we found in Gost’s tower?”

Trax laughed, a sudden gust of mirth that swept out much of the misery in the room. “Branet and I decided the newly-married couple needed a measure of privacy, so we begged them to take some time away from the cares of the city,” he said.

Branet grinned. “As I recall, you threatened to chain them together in your cellars if they refused.”

The rest joined in the laughter, though Bixa soon stopped and held her injured shoulder.

Trax put a hand on hers. “My friend, you are wounded and should be at the Physicians School recovering. Others can take your place until you return.”

The Captain shook her head. “Yes, but first there is the matter of what to do beyond the defenses already proposed,” she said. “We cannot defend forever, especially if our enemies keep changing tactics.”

“Agreed,” Corix said. “We must find out more about them.”

“I think we all agree on this,” Branet said. “And firstly, we need to know if another attack is coming.”

Garet shook his head. He looked across at the Hallmaster, who nodded for him to speak.

“I think it is unlikely, since this attack failed. If our enemy could acquire demons so easily, they would launch such an assault every week until we were all dead. No, this was an act of desperation. They overstretched themselves to stop the expansion of the city.”

“But how did they know of the plan?” Tarix asked. “It means they have more knowledge of us than we do of them.”

“Since we have none, that would be no great feat,” Corix said. “What do you suggest?”

The Red leaned back in her chair. “Well, the Hallmaster, the King, and I have spoken of this. We plan to send scouts out to the north, south, and to the east beyond the Midlands. The west we must leave to Solantor and the other cities there. Our people will seek the source of the demons. Once that is determined, the five cities of the South might be able to join together and mount an attack that will end this threat.”

Corix nodded. “A bold plan. We will support it, of course. Have you Banes in mind?”

There was a commotion outside the door.

“But I’m guarding the door!” Ratal could be heard to say.

The doors opened and Kesla entered, dragging Ratal by his collar. Dalesta followed them. Behind her came Dorict, Marick, Vinir, and Salick.

“Banes, welcome,” Trax said, and sketched a bow from his seat. “Oh! I think I need more tea, Corix, if you would be so kind? Now, Tarix, would you mind explaining their mission?”

Tarix stood and looked over the assembled Banes. “You are chosen to be our eyes and ears, and I fear you must travel far from the protection of our Walls to find the source of our sorrows. Kesla will take Ratal and Dalesta east, beyond the borders of the Midlands. Hallmaster Corix will take you part of the way, and I have a letter of introduction for the Hallmaster of Bangt.”

Kesla nodded, and Dalesta coughed, wide-eyed at the news.

Tarix smiled at her. “After yesterday, I have every faith in you, Green. Now, Vinir, Dorict, and Marick will travel with traders to the Far South, taking a ship from Solantor past the great desert.”

Dorict looked thoughtful, then nodded. Vinir smiled down at Marick, who began to twitch in anticipation of the adventure.

“We should take Alifur and Corfin with us,” the little Blue said.

Dorict gave his friend a push and said, “I think not. Besides, someone has to stay here and make trouble—since you will be gone!”

“True,” said Marick, “and they are the most promising of my students.”

Tarix, Branet, and Corix each raised an eyebrow in Masterly unison.

“And I, Master?” Salick asked, for she found herself left last in the tally.

Tarix smiled at her confusion. “You will also leave from Solantor, but in the opposite direction. You must travel on the great ship that sails each summer to the Far North, for the forest is too dangerous to traverse on foot.”

“Am I to travel alone?” Salick asked. She held her eyes on the Red.

“Why, is there someone with whom you wish to travel?” Tarix asked, her tone one of innocent curiousity.