In the Earth Abides the Flame (46 page)

'What a foul city,' he ground out. 'They should have burned the whole town to the ground.'

'It's only a house,' Foilzie said, as the Company made to console her. 'It was a gift. It has served its purpose. A small loss compared to what my neighbours suffered.'

But even as she told them of her misfortune, a strangely joyful light played in her eyes. The Company followed her gaze. There, walking through the wreck of the tenement, arm in a sling, the bald Escaignian came towards them. His eyes, however, were only for Foilzie.

He had recovered enough food from the basement, which remained relatively undamaged, to make a rudimentary meal of cold meats, salad and fruit. The meat tasted a little of smoke, but nobody minded. There they sat, surrounded by rubble, eating together, laughing together. It seemed so strange, yet so familiar. These two are our kind of people, Stella thought. Yet, as she watched Farr eat, she had to acknowledge the Company was not a 'kind of people'. A more unlikely group could not be imagined: Perdu, the Hermit, Mahnum and Indrett, Farr the fighter, Foilzie and the Escaignian, and the rock-silent Bhrudwan warrior. For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of thinking about the others: Kurr, Hal, the Haufuth, the strange Phemanderac, Leith. . .

'Where to now?' Farr asked. 'The fuss about this flooding will be over soon. They'll be out looking for us again presently. Can we get out of this place?'

'You mean Instruere? I don't think we should,' Mahnum told him. 'The others will go south, seeking the Jugom Ark. If they have any sense, they won't try to come back for us until their quest has succeeded, or ... I think we should wait for them.'

'Why wait? Why not try to join them? What chance have they of success without us?'

Perdu laughed bitterly. 'Farr Storrsen, you will never change, for which I give thanks. We can neither help them nor hinder them. They have no chance of success at all, unless they are favoured by the gods. From what I can see, they retain the gods' favour.' He talked as if instructing a child. 'Has Farr Storrsen lost faith?'

'Mjolkbridge has lost things more important than faith,' the Vinkullen man replied bitterly.

'Evil men came riding through and slashed our innocence to death on the street.'

Stella looked more closely at the young mountain man. Something obviously bothered him -

well, there was a great deal which bothered them all, she acknowledged, as her mind dwelt for a moment on those not amongst them - but he had lost the composure she had seen in the days and weeks after he suffered the loss of his brother.

Farr stood, setting aside his bowl, his food unfinished and unregarded. 'Ever since we arrived in this dreadful city we have done nothing but run and hide, or beg for an audience with people who ought to have been begging us for our help. I've run out of patience with people who do nothing but obstruct us, pursue us and imprison us in an attempt to stop us helping them! Listen, I know you people regard me as a hothead. Maybe there is a reason!

I've seen my father cut down and butchered. I've seen my brother sacrifice himself for the good of our cause. I am not willing to see their deaths lose meaning by our running away and hiding again. Either we take the southern road in search of the crazy philosopher's Arrow, or we stay put right here.' He waved his hand around, indicating the basement.

'But the guard will know where—'

The Vinkullen man did not give Mahnum a chance to continue. 'So we are to be on the run from now on, then? Do we run back to Firanes, to our villages and our families? Or do we find somewhere to make a stand, to put down roots, to be Falthans again, even if it is only until the Brown Army comes to the gate?'

'I am of a mind with you,' said the bald Escaignian. 'I have thought long about this. The whole history of Escaigne is one of running, of hiding. These last ten years I have lived in fear, using the cover of darkness to creep from one part of Escaigne to another. I will run no more. I will hide no more! Here I will live. Here in the heart of Faltha 1 assert my Falthan-ness. I will rise from the ashes of fear and here make my stand.'

'Do you mean here in Instruere, or—' Again Mahnum was interrupted.

'No, I mean here. Right here in the ashes of this house.' He looked to Foilzie.

'I am too old to run and too large to hide.' The Instruian woman smiled as she spoke. 'If the guards feel threatened by an old woman, then let them come and deal with that threat in public. It is time Instruere realised what she has become. Old man, I will stand with you.'

As Stella listened to the words of the tough old woman, she realised that Foilzie herself was a symbol of the great old city. Too old to run and too large to hide, she sat at the heart of things like the world's mother, gathering Faltha to her. And beneath her harsh voice and her wrinkled skin she had a decent heart, and something more. As long as Instruere was made up of people like Foilzie, Faltha still had hope.

'So what is the feeling amongst us?' Mahnum asked the Company.

'I'll stay,' Stella said flatly. I've done nothing wrong.'

'I will wait here for my boys,' said Indrett wearily. 'Let's see what happens when the others come back.'

The Hermit pulled his blue robe close about him. 'This is where I am called to be,' he said with certainty. 'I have been led from my cave to this city for some great purpose. I shall not leave until it is accomplished.'

'Some great purpose?' Mahnum echoed quietly.

'I have seen it,' the blue-robed man continued, either missing or ignoring the nuance in the Trader's voice. 'The Most High is doing a new thing in these days. Behold, he is about to dwell with men, and once again call them his children. I am his herald. He has spoken. I have heard it! "Tear down the walls, mend the ancient bridges, open the doors of the houses and get ready to welcome your king!" He has whispered to me in the silence of my cave. I will shout it from the rooftops of this city!'

Mahnum pursed his lips but said nothing.

'The closer I am to Myrvidda, the better I will feel,' Perdu said. 'I am mindful of my clan chief's instructions to me, for I have not yet reported to him of the Bhrudwans' deaths. But until the Company is dissolved, I believe it would be his wish that I remain here.' There was a heaviness in his voice that Stella identified with; perhaps her own losses enabled her to hear it.

'I think we should stay here in Instruere,' said Mahnum. 'Our mission was to warn Faltha, and we still might achieve it while we remain. If we go into hiding, our message unrecognised, many may pay for it with their lives.'

To their surprise the Bhrudwan acolyte, Achtal, sprang to his feet. 'I serve Hal,' he announced.

'1 serve the Company!' He looked around the group, his expression unreadable. 'We drive the Bhrudwo from Instruere.' His mouth snapped shut and he sat down with an easy grace, evident now he was finally allowed to have his hands free.

The members of the Company looked at each other, conscious for the first time that they had no leaders. Kurr and the Haufuth were gone. They waited for a decision to come.

'There is another reason we should stay here,' Perdu said, thinking as he spoke. 'I heard people at the gate talking about the demise of the Arkhos of Nemohaim. If he's really fallen from power, then we have little to fear, surely?'

Is this bravado? Stella wondered. Is it some crazy reaction to days of being cooped up in Escaigne? To a series of unlikely escapes from imprisonment and death? Or have we simply had enough?

Eventually, Mahnum said, 'Well, since no one wants to leave, we stay here. But where, exactly ...'

'No better place than right here, at least for the next little while,' said Foilzie. 'The basement's fine - smells of smoke, but it's fine - and maybe the guard won't think to look here.'

The others agreed with her. Perhaps it was weariness, or the onset of shock, or the influence of this foreign place, that led the members of the Company to disregard their peril for the moment. In their hearts, however, they knew that discovery, arrest, even possible death, might be only a matter of time.

Red-faced, out of breath and more than a little nervous, the guard opened the door to the Inner Chamber. There, seated alone, was a man few in the city had seen, but who already controlled their destinies. The guard wiped his sweaty palms on the front of his uniform, waiting for the dread moment when the man would look up and acknowledge him, but the man did not look up. The man in the Inner Chamber was tall, angular and dark-skinned, perhaps thirty years of age. His features were simplicity itself. Large brown eyes, small, slightly upturned nose, a wide, full mouth, high cheekbones and unblemished skin; no extraneous feature to draw the eye away from his gaze. It was a face of command, a face of authority. There would be no mistaking the intent of one who owned such a face. The face of a man capable of great good, or great evil. A face to inspire awe - or fear.

As the guard watched, the man stretched out his arms over a bowl filled with a black liquid, and began chanting something in a low undertone. Clearly some sort of ritual was being enacted. I should not be here, his mind screamed. 1 should not be seeing this! But he had been ordered to the Inner Chamber, shown in by the man's own personal secretary. He could not leave now.

Something strange began to happen to the bowl. As if in answer to the rhythm of the chant, a blue flame rose from the surface of the liquid, flickered, steadied and began to pulse brighter.

The chanting continued, swelling slightly; then, when it held the flame at about a foot in height, abruptly it ceased. The flame did not waver.

Now quickly, urgently, the man spoke to the flame; or, at least, that is what he appeared to be doing. The speech was high-pitched and sibilant, and in no tongue the guard could recognise, though he was, like many in cosmopolitan Instruere, something of a polyglot.

In fact, his ability with languages had seen his swift rise through the ranks of the Instruian Guard, until he had attained his present rank; but he had never heard a language like the one he was hearing now. The man paused; then, incredibly, the flame answered him. Drawing his breath in sharply, the guard looked with stunned amazement at the scene. The noise invoked a tiny flicker in the flame, but immediately it steadied itself.

The voice from the flame spoke in the same language as used by the man in the Inner Chamber. It repeated the same phrase three times, as if issuing important instructions it wanted followed. The man spoke again, with more confidence now, as though offering assurances the instructions were understood and would be enacted. Then, without warning, the flame flared brightly; the guard could feel the heat of it. For a moment he gained the distinct impression the flame was searching the room, aware of his presence and trying to locate him. The sensation almost unmanned him. He could have sworn the flame leaned towards him and extended a small probing tongue of blue fire; or perhaps it was the result of some unfelt draught in this ancient building. Whatever the reason, the man spoke to the flame once again, waited a moment, then drew his hands slowly together over the bowl. The flame disappeared the instant they touched.

The man pushed the bowl away from him, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Now what? Do I wait here until I am acknowledged? Does he even know 1 am here?

The guard waited until he could stand it no longer. 'My lord,' he said, more than a little frightened at how querulous his voice sounded. 'We have found no trace of the Arkhos of Nemohaim.'

The man at his desk continued in his trancelike state, giving no indication he heard the guard, or was even aware of his presence.

'We looked everywhere,' said the guard, sweat breaking out on his brow.

This statement was greeted with the tiniest tightening around the eyes.

They say this man is far more cruel than the Arkhos of Nemohaim, said a fearful voice in the guard's mind. What do 1 do now?

'We have received a report from the Southbridge Guard,' he said, in a vain attempt to fill the gaping silence. 'Does my lord wish to hear it?'

In response the man opened his eyes, turned his head slowly and fixed his single-minded stare on the unfortunate guard. 'Did you knock before entering?' he said mildly, in a rich, fatherly voice.

'No, my lord. The urgency—'

'You make a mistake if you presume to judge what is urgent,' the man said, his voice showing a little anger. 'That is not for you to decide.'

'Yes, my lord.' This is not going well.

'Your report is known to me. The captain of the Southbridge Guard reported the death of one of his officers, and the probable escape of the Arkhos of Nemohairn. You will recall your detachment was charged with his capture. He also claimed the Arkhos was aided by a number of accomplices. You no doubt have their names.'

Fear gripped him around the temples and tightened. 'No, my lord.' The admission came out as a whisper.

The face did not change, but this gave the guard no reason to hope.

'Is your report - such as it is - ready to present?' The man's voice was now tight, controlled, clipped, dangerous.

'Yes, my lord, I can tell you what we have learned—'

'Are you telling me it has not been written?'

The guard found it difficult to speak.

'Do you have a family?' the man asked.

'Yes, my lord. Two girls and a boy.'

'What are they going to do now that their father has no employment?'

'My lord?' His temples throbbed with fear.

'Such frightful lack of competence is, no doubt, a legacy of my predecessor. I will not permit it to continue. Let us hope you discover some hitherto hidden skill in order to provide for your dependants. No, do not presume to speak. I will not always be so forgiving. You are dismissed from the service of Instruere. Now, go.'

After the miserable guard had left, Deorc called his servant to his side. 'Furoman, gather the Council together. We will meet at sunset tonight. Have the arrangements we discussed been made?'

'Yes, my lord,' said Saraskar's former secretary. He wore a particularly evil smile.