In the Earth Abides the Flame (28 page)

'I knew him better than I wanted to,' she replied acidly.

'It would be foolish to judge the city by the behaviour of some of its leaders,' said Indrett. 'I lived in a city once, a fair city, the city of a king; corrupt at the core, but still a place of beauty. I loved Rammr. Instruere reminds me of it. Beautiful and deadly.'

'Cities are peculiar places,' Phemanderac offered. 'Wherever people gather, great potential exists for good or for evil. Usually people just gravitate somewhere between those potentials, to mediocrity. Instruere was once a great city in the Golden Age of the First Men, with vision and high ideals; now, after centuries of mediocrity, it tends to evil. But do not judge her by today's face. If legend in any way reflects the truth, she was once the bastion of all that was worthy. She is worth saving.'

'Perhaps any city should best be judged by people like Foilzie,' the Haufuth said.

'What happened to her?' Leith asked. 'One moment she was with us; the next she was taken away.'

'I suspect the bald man had something to do with that. They were friends, acquaintances from the past. He may have used his influence to save her from our fate.'

'And us? Who will save us from our fate?'

'By attempting the quest, we have already avoided the worst fate,' Hal said. 'Anything more is a bonus.'

'Well, I'm keen to earn as large a bonus as possible,' Kurr said, inwardly shaking his head at the crippled boy's triteness. How could any of them have mistaken the lad's words for wisdom? 'Perhaps our guards know something that could help us.'

'Perhaps,' Leith agreed, keeping his voice low. He hailed the guards, who sat at the entrance to their small room. The closer guard, an older man with a clump of grey hair, opened the door and came over to them.

'What can you tell us about the Water Chamber?' Kurr asked htm.

'I am sorry, friend; I do not have the stomach for this business,' he responded, shaking his head. 'Better you remain ignorant of it. I voted for your freedom. I do not agree that men advocating freedom from evil should imprison others.'

'Then set us free,' Farr whispered, his voice intense. 'It is within your power to do so.'

'It is not,' came his reply in guarded undertones. 'My fellow guard is most keen to see your deaths, and keeps careful watch on me. And would you have me break my Watcher's Oath, and betray those who outrank me?'

'You break your oath by keeping us imprisoned,' Kurr said, but he heard the truth in the guard's words. No Watcher would disobey the direct orders of a Watcher of the Sixth Rank who had been set over him.

'I can tell you about the Water Chamber.' The younger guard sauntered over to them, a smirk on his wide face. Another filled with a sense of his own importance, Kurr reflected. How did the Watchers oflnstruere stoop to such a state? And how did we in Firanes - including farsighted Kroptur — remain ignorant of it? Such information would have been of great benefit to us.

'You don't realise the honour you are being given,' the man said. 'The Water Chamber has been used only three times since the foundation of Escaigne.'

'Well, that makes me feel much better,' Farr said quietly. The sense of menace coming from the mountain man caused the old farmer to catch his breath.

'I've been there,' said the guard. 'Out by the Docks. The Water Chamber is an old warehouse with a stone floor, long abandoned as the Great River silted and rose. Now the good citizens of Instruere flush their sewers into it. Oh, yes!' he crowed at their cries of dismay. 'Because the Aleinus River is tidal at least a hundred miles above its mouth, the city can't just discharge its waste straight into it. Instead the effluent gathers in the Water Chamber, and is flushed out on the outgoing tide. Along with anyone placed there by Escaigne.'

'Excellent!' Farr said. The guard nodded earnestly.

'So why do the Elders wait until tomorrow before showing us the Water Chamber?' Kurr asked.

'Isn't it obvious?' the guard said scornfully. 'The sewers are fuller in the evenings. Not enough to drown you. Neap tide tonight. Stronger tide tomorrow. Better for flushing out the city's wastes. Well, perhaps "better" isn't the word you people would use!' And he turned his back on the northerners, chuckling at his own joke.

'A most enjoyable evening,' the Keeper of Andratan drawled. 'I never thought to find such sophistication in the land of the First Men. You must come to Andratan some time - as my guest, of course.'

'I am pleased our humble facilities were to your satisfaction, my lord,' the Arkhos of Nemohaim replied. 'We have much yet to learn from skilled and experienced operators such as yourself. I hope we can make time for this when Faltha becomes a Bhrudwan province.'

And he bade the unpleasant Bhrudwan a good night.

The sentiment was genuine. In spite of himself, he was impressed by Deorc's ability to extract information from the prisoner. The Bhrudwan seemed to know exactly how much terror to instil while not damaging him beyond his ability to be useful. By the end the prisoner had begged, and told them all they needed to know, including the exact location of every part of Escaigne he knew, and something even more valuable ...

The decadeAong mystery is solved, the Arkhos thought as he congratulated himself. For ten years the rulers of Instruere had tried to find this Escaigne, presuming it to be a rebel fortress somewhere in Straux or Deuverre. Time and again the treasures of Instruere had been raided, important people assassinated and plans sabotaged as though the perpetrators knew the city intimately. Few had been caught, and none had talked even under the most extreme form of questioning. Until now. The Arkhos of Nemohaim could hardly credit his good fortune.

The captive was apprehended by the guard in a granary, trying to steal grain. He claimed to be a petty thief, but none of the Arkhos's contacts knew of him. Moreover, the evidence suggested he was but one of a large, organised group, yet all the organised crime in Instruere paid a percentage of their profits to the Council. So to which group did this man belong? That had set the Arkhos thinking, and he had questioned the simpleton himself. He had trapped the captive into confessing he was from Escaigne. That was the breakthrough.

And now it all made sense. The lightning raids, the intimate knowledge, their ability to escape without being caught by the guards manning the bridges - all explained by the clue offered by the captive. Entangled. Simply the modern rendering of Escaigne. Escaigne was entangled with Instruere, hidden in pockets within the city, and Deorc had persuaded the prisoner to give them the location of the major enclaves. It would be a simple matter to place these locations under observation, the Escaignians unwittingly leading their enemies to those who remained undisclosed. And their prisoner had told them something else, the real point of the spear, a connection between a woman of Escaigne and a certain company of northerners, three of whom had been involved in the sack of The Pinion. A group that included the Bhrudwan warrior, who would become the Arkhos's gift to the Keeper of Andratan.

Deorc had enjoyed his entertainment immensely, that was clear, and had accepted the Arkhos's invitation to observe the conquest of Escaigne and the capture of the northerners.

But there was a more pressing matter, and now, alone in the sumptuous surroundings of his private chambers, the Arkhos of Nemohaim recalled it with smug satisfaction. As the prisoner confessed, betraying Escaigne and the Company, the Arkhos of Asgowan tried to leave the chamber unnoticed. He didn't have the stomach for it, the weak fool. But the Arkhos of Nemohaim had been watching him, waiting for the moment of weakness, and in that moment he pounced.

'This is the man who informed on me!' he had cried, pointing to the thin, orange-robed figure as he sought to leave the chamber unobserved. 'This is the one who accused me of betraying our masters! Bring him to me!'

He timed it perfectly. Rather than sating Deorc's appetite, the Escaignian prisoner had merely whetted it. It took only a suggestion on his part for the Keeper of Andratan to order the white-faced traitor from Asgowan to be bound and delivered up to him, for his pleasure. The other Arkhoi, too afraid to leave the chamber, watched as it was demonstrated to them where the real power in Faltha lay. The Arkhos of Nemohaim had not known where to look, it had all been so heady: at Asgowan as he screamed in tortured agony while being slowly torn apart; at his fellow collaborators as they watched with varying degrees of fear and horror; or at Deorc and the way in which his very soul fed on the suffering and torment. Such single-mindedness.

Ah, Deorc and he could be a great force together, if things were different.

Afterwards he had ordered Saraskar imprisoned - a delicacy to be saved for a later date, or even to be presented to his master when he came to claim the city - and took a moment to gloat over the broken body of Asgowan, then left the chamber with Deorc. He summoned the Captain of the Guard, issued the surprised fellow some very detailed orders, then settled back to relax with the Keeper of Andratan before retiring. A most satisfying evening, he thought.

Triumph rises out of the ashes of disaster.

'Something is amiss,' Kurr announced as the Company gathered for their evening meal. That afternoon a discussion had taken place in the next room. According to the little Kurr could hear as he stood balanced on the shoulders of Farr and Achtal, attempting to get as close as possible to the small open space near the ceiling, there had been a meeting some time after the midday meal, held in the Collocation hall. Someone's nephew had apparently been taken prisoner, even though it was well known that sending him into the city at all was a grave risk.

Well known to everybody, apparently, except the Elders, who had been so preoccupied with their prisoners they had not known about the boy's excursion to the granaries. He had been taken to The Pinion, and everyone knew what that meant.

Kurr had heard little of the remainder of the conversation, which came to an end when some sort of commander, perhaps one of the Elders, came into the room and barked orders. Most of this was unintelligible, except for the ending: 'Prepare for Chance Three.' Chance Three, the old farmer told them, was the traditional Watcher signal for flight.

'Flight? What is happening?' The Company gathered close around the old man, trying to understand this riddle.

'It seems obvious to me,' the Hermit said. 'They are afraid the captive will betray them.'

'I think the Hermit has read the riddle correctly,' said Mahnum. 'Escaigne expects discovery, and is preparing to flee Instruere.'

'Will they take us with them?' Stella asked.

'I doubt it,' Indrett replied. 'More likely, they will first dispose of us as they have planned.'

'So we should be ready to act instantly.'

'Yes,' Kurr said gravely. 'But our chances of success are diminished as the Escaignians become ever more vigilant.'

'The chance was never very great,' said the Haufuth.

'Escaigne has haunted us far too long,' the Arkhos bayed at his troops. 'Robbed your houses, stolen your treasures, bled this Great City dry. Escaigne is the reason our city is but a shadow of herself. Escaigne is the reason we have been weak. You have observed i hem moving among us, without knowing who they really are, and all their foul nests are now laid bare to your blades. They are defenceless before the power of your arm! Destroy them now, and you restore Instruere to her place as the mighty Power of Faltha. Root them out, ruthlessly and without mercy, and do not allow pity to weaken your hand. Men, women and children of this foul, treacherous society need to be cut out from among us. Raise your swords as a sign of your loyalty!'

With a great cry the massed Instruian guards drew their swords and thrust them skywards.

The loyalty of fools, the Arkhos observed to himself. They do the work of Bhrudwo, and will be rewarded by the curved blades of the Bhrudwans — after they have watched the sack of their beloved city and seen their loved ones enslaved. His dark inner voice was content with this thought, and the expectation of finally dealing with Escaigne - and the Company from the north.

'I don't like the idea of killing fellow Instruians,' said one guard at the back of the great throng as he held his sword aloft.

'Neither do I, my friend; and neither do most of the guard,' said his companion. 'But will you be the one to walk away and make yourself an example of disloyalty, or will I? You know this pig's reputation.'

Both the guards shuddered, and shouted their support for the Arkhos of Nemohaim with renewed gusto.

The Company's last day in Escaigne was just like the first, beginning with a breakfast of bread and fruit. They were left to themselves: no one interfered with them, though the swords of the guards made it clear they were not free to leave their room, save for the necessary short trips to make their ablutions.

They had been patient, trusting that an opportunity would present itself; but the hours had passed one by one without a single chance.

What they had been waiting for, none of them was sure. Some chance - perhaps when both guards were in the room at once -to overwhelm them without giving a warning to Escaigne.

Their guards, however, had been careful. Now there was no more time to be patient. Today was the day of their execution. Today was the day to take risks if they wanted to live.

'Wait just a little longer,' Phemanderac argued. 'It won't make any difference whether we try it now or later this afternoon. In the meantime anything could happen.'

Farr could stand no more. 'We have waited far too long already!

At any time they could come for us. Then we will have more than two guards to contend with.'

'But the guard said they have to wait until after high tide,' the philosopher said. 'According to my reckoning, that will be later tonight.'

Leith sat in a corner of the room, toying with a piece of an orange. He had never seen an orange until he worked in the market. Less than six weeks ago. He shook his head: he was having trouble keeping his mind clear.

Unexpectedly, Stella came over and sat beside him. She had spoken little to him during their confinement; but he had seen, or imagined he had seen, her eyes on him from time to time and a strange expression on her face. He despaired of ever understanding girls, especially Stella, and had long given up wondering what he had done wrong. If this journey had taught him anything, it had taught him to hold his tongue when she was about. But today might be their last day, so what did it matter?