The Lawkeeper of Samara (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 2) (34 page)

Cal spun, forcing himself towards his opponent, ducking and reaching. He managed a touch, a tap, a harmless, gentle slap on the thigh at the full extent of his arm, and then he was moving back. He steadied himself for a moment. There would be no second chance at this. He switched his grip, drew his arm back, whispered a word of encouragement to his blade, and threw it.

The man he had been fighting took a step towards him, sword raised to deliver a blow against which Cal could not defend, other than trusting to the protection afforded by his ring, but the sword fell from his attacker’s fingers just before the down stroke and rang on the stone floor like a bell. Cal saw fear and confusion in his face.

“What…?”

The blue light vanished and the chamber was plunged into darkness.

Cal heard a bowstring release, and again, and a third time.

*

Arla watched everything. She saw the fight begin, saw the movement as the other three left the dais, and she responded. She could do nothing as things stood, but if there was a chance, the slightest chance, she would be ready. She took half a dozen paces to her right, and that took the Mage Lord and his opponent out of her line of sight to the dais and the advancing men. She fixed their positions in her head. This, too, was a guard skill. To glance, take your aim from that and then shoot without needing to see a second time.

She pulled back the string and raised her bow.

She was just in time.

Serhan executed the most peculiar attack, chasing Gadilari across the floor with a spinning motion, tapping him on the thigh and then spinning back again before throwing his sword at the dais.

Arla understood.

The sword was the thing Serhan had created to defeat the Faer Karan. It was what he had used to break the magic holding the chief, and now it allowed him to move freely through the Teroganat’s trap. It was the only thing that could destroy the stones without concomitant mayhem across Samara.

But Serhan had gambled everything on a single throw. It was their only chance.

She watched the sword in the air, and she would have sworn that there was something unnatural in its flight. It seemed to twist of its own accord, to curve against its own natural tendency to fall, and when it fell, it fell flat, blade parallel to the ground and faultlessly square upon the glowing crystals.

The room was plunged into darkness.

Arla released her first arrow into the blackness. There was a thing that she had often observed – that when caught in darkness people usually stopped and tried to get their bearings, and she was counting on that. She snatched a second arrow, found her bowstring and shot again, and a third arrow followed.

She heard the third arrow strike flesh, heard a grunt of expelled air. She could not say if the other two had found their targets, so she fitted a fourth arrow and waited. She did not have to wait long. A white star flickered into existence high above them, close to the ceiling, and grew rapidly in brilliance.

The first thing she saw was that her arrows had found their mark, more or less. One of Gadilari’s allies was down and dead, as far as these people could be. Her arrow had taken him in the chest. A second man looked in great pain, and it seemed she had shot him in the belly, and the third had been disarmed by an arrow in his shoulder, and though he managed to stand he could do little else.

But Arla’s eyes were dragged back to Gadilari, who still stood before the Mage Lord, but had been transformed. She knew him as a man of thirty something years, strong and vigorous, but now he had been frosted into old age. His skin had faded to a papery white, his eyes clouded, and his form bent and shrunken. His hands shook. Even as she watched him he collapsed, hardly like a man at all. More like a carelessly stacked pile of books knocked over. He broke apart as he fell, becoming no more than bones and dust.

It was a terrible but fitting end, all things considered.

She lowered her bow and watched the Mage Lord stride down to the table and pick up the crystals that lay upon it, robbed now of all their venom.

“What shall we do with these men?” the chief asked.

Serhan stopped. He shrugged.

“It does not matter,” he said. “You will not try them. Having failed at this and being what they are they will die within a week if you lock them up, a slow version of this.” He pointed to Gadilari’s remains. “It would be a mercy to take their heads.”

Gilan stepped forwards. “Then we should lock them up,” he said. “Those who show no mercy ask none for themselves.”

“Guard doctrine,” Serhan said. “But this is a matter of law.”

“What serves one serves the other,” Gilan said, but he turned to look at the chief. They all did. Even the Mage Lord, Arla noted.

“This is not the time or place,” the chief said. “We will take them back to the law house and their fate will be a matter for the city council to decide, but I will ask them to be swift.” He turned to Serhan. “Can you preserve their lives for a time?”

“Only by killing children,” the Mage Lord replied. “Which I will not do.”

Noises in the corridor indicated the arrival of more lawkeepers. It seemed that Kane had done his duty in sending them. It was a simple matter to drag, carry and march the remaining servants of the blue crystals back to the law house.

There are times when the world seems to stop. The great events that mark the passage of time peter out and a great calm takes hold. Nothing happens. In a way it is like waking from a dream. The fear, the urgency that has held you in thrall for so many days, weeks, or months fades away and you look around at your fellow travellers and see that they, too, have woken.

Cal Serhan had seen this before. He had seen it on the day the Faer Karan fell, and on the day he had banished the army of Sarata from Samara Plain. The threat was gone, the danger passed. Life was sweet once more.

It was like that now. He had come to the law house once more in the aftermath of the events at the temple and he saw it in the eyes of the lawkeepers, in the way that they smiled at each other, and at Cal himself. He was one of them now, after a fashion, had been with them through their crisis, and they were alive together.

He had made friends with Ulric’s cook and sat in the refectory eating small, sweet cakes and drinking watered, spiced wine. He had chased Sam away. The Chief Lawkeeper of Samara had seemed to think it his duty to escort Cal every minute he was in the law house, but Cal was happy enough to sit by himself and mull over the events of the last few days, and had said so. Sam was needed elsewhere.

Now he sat by the window and suffered the cook to bring him an endless array of edible treats. Many of them were not of the kind favoured by Ulric, lacking sufficient fat, but the cook seemed to revel in the chance to demonstrate the full range of his skills.

Cal had to admit that he was impressed. The man was clearly talented and if White Rock had not possessed an excellent cook and kitchen of its own he would have been tempted to offer the man a position.

He was not particularly surprised when Ella Saine walked in and after an enquiring pause – he nodded his assent – sat down beside him.

“It is good of you to come,” she said.

“Perhaps it is,” he agreed. “But it is an important day for them, and I wanted to see it.”

“There will be no surprises,” Ella said. “Sam is going to promote Arla and Gilan – one to head investigations and the other patrols. There are several new squad leaders – officers – nothing that you could not guess.”

“Did they find the other crystals?” It was an important question. They had all seen what a crystal had done to Sam.

“All but one,” Ella said. “They are still searching for the last. They think it may be concealed in a house on Braid Street. It would be helpful if you can spare the time to see if it is there.”

Cal nodded. It was the least he could do. He would be able to see at once if the thing was present and pain magic would be a thing best removed from the world. He hoped that the destruction of the last crystals would achieve that.

“Arla is certain it was Gadilari who killed Talis, and we know who killed Ifan, so justice has been served in both crimes,” Ella said.

“And the prisoners?”

“Still here. Still alive,” Ella said, but she was uncomfortable about it.

“Has the council ruled?”

Ella would not meet his eyes. “They will be left to die. The council did not feel that mercy, even that of a swift death, was deserved.”

Cal sighed. Sam would hate that. He knew that the lawmaker wished the law to be better than the men it served, because he served the law and saw it as a higher cause. Cruelty was not something any man should desire in the law. Yet Sam would do what the council told him to do.

“I will see to it,” Cal said. No matter what the council said they could not command the Mage Lord of White Rock. Sparing those men from so terrible a death was the right thing to do, no matter what order the council gave, no matter what they had done.

There was a small commotion in the corridor and the door was filled by the massive figure of Hagar Del. If Gilan was a big man, then Dell was vast, half a head taller and broad enough to have to walk sideways through doors. He saw Cal and executed a deep and respectful bow.

“My Lord,” he said.

There was a peculiar sort of bond between Cal and this big Gulltowner. Dell credited White Rock with his survival, his elevation, and he had been the leader of the first Samaran faction to accept White Rock’s arbitration after the fall of the Faer Karan.

“Councillor Dell,” Cal greeted him. “Will the whole council be here today?”

“Today?” Dell looked confused for a second. “No. I am here about something else. Is Sam here?”

“Somewhere,” Cal replied.

Dell vacillated in the doorway for a moment. Perhaps he was reluctant to go in search of Sam and leave this room. Cal was well aware that some people liked to be in the presence of power. There was another man behind him, hardly visible behind Dell’s bulk, and he spoke. Cal could not hear the words, but the tone was plaintive.

“I’m sure Sam will be here in a minute,” Ella said.

That was enough, it seemed, to decide Dell’s mind. He stepped into the room and took a seat close to where Cal and Ella sat. It creaked beneath him. A very much smaller man followed him in – a person that Cal did not know and evidently didn’t know Cal for what he was.

Cal wasn’t used to being ignored, but it did not offend him.

“You must speak to the lawkeeper,” the small man said. “The matter must be resolved.”

“Be still, Tolus,” Dell said. “The lawkeeper will be here shortly.”

It was like watching the small birds that pecked ticks off sheep’s backs in his childhood home. Dell could have swatted the man away in a moment, but allowed the irritation to continue.

Tolus wisely took a seat and shut his mouth, though he fiddled with his cuffs constantly and looked again and again at the door as though willing Sam to walk though it and allow him to continue his plaintive refrain. Dell declined to make introductions.

The cook brought over another plate and refreshed Cal’s glass. He offered the plate to Ella, but she shook her head.

“No thank you, my lord,” she said.

The title brought Tolus’s head round, which meant he hadn’t caught what Dell had said while he was behind the big man in the corridor. He narrowed his eyes and was about to speak, but Sam Hekman chose that moment to step into the refectory, and Tolus sprang to his feet again.

“What progress?” he demanded. “What have you found?”

Sam stared at him, and it was apparent that he was having trouble recalling who the little man was, but then a light went on behind his eyes.

“Tolus Green,” he said. “City Treasurer – you wish to know what progress I have made with the coin clipping matter.”

“Of course,” Tolus snapped. “What news?”

Sam smiled. “Well, I have no men to spare today, but if you can borrow some from the King I suggest you go to the house of Delando on Long Street. There you will find a small smelting works in the basement and enough evidence, I think, to resolve whatever problems you have.”

Tolus seemed stunned. “You did not think it important enough to tell me this as soon as you discovered it?” he demanded.

Sam shrugged. “No,” he said. “We have been busy.”

Tolus looked outraged, but Hagar smiled. “We will go there at once,” he said. It struck Cal that Dell was a man still struggling with his new status, still trying to be what he thought a city councillor should be. He could not imagine Calaine, or even Ella, permitting a functionary like Tolus Green to dictate their actions or priorities.

It was a relief, however, that Dell almost dragged the treasurer from the room, and they were left alone with Sam.

“Shall we begin?” the lawkeeper asked.

*

When the gathering finally ended Cal decided he wanted to walk, and he left the law house, taking the road that led down to the banks of the river. He had been disturbed by the events of the last few weeks. Samara had been safe, or so he had thought, and if it had not been for Ella’s timely letter the city might well have fallen. As things had turned out it had been close, very close, and Cal had been able to do very little to help, but luck had been with him, and it had been just enough.

He walked along the river towards the sea. He passed people, and although it was apparent from his clothes that he was wealthy, they did not know him. He had never walked openly in the city as himself before, always preferring some disguise, so he was still able to move among its people unrecognized.

Samara was special. It was the first city he had visited, and it had captured his heart with its busy charms, so different from the tiny village in which he had lived as a child. He preferred its chaotic nature to the prettiness of Pek or the green delights of Blaye. They were too well ordered for him. He had always thrived in an unpredictable lack of order because it presented so many opportunities. He was at his best when playing things by ear.

He came to the ruin of the temple. Ella had called it the heart of the city, and perhaps it had once been so, but now it was no more than a scar, a memory nine parts burned away. He paused and looked at it. The building had been deliberately smashed. There was hardly one stone standing on another above ground level, just the line of broken pillars that marked its boundary like so many rotted teeth.

If the Faer Karan had been so keen to destroy it the temple must have had some significance.

He walked up from the river and along the next street where he had entered a few days ago. In daylight the path was quite clear, and he followed it over the rubble, along the broken wall and once more down into the chamber below the ruins. It was dark now, and silent. He made a light and sent it up above him so that the room was brightly lit again.

He stood in the middle of the chamber, on the dais where the broken remains of the table still lay in the ancient dust.

He closed his eyes. He listened.

There was magic here. It was faint and therefore very, very old. He caught words and phrases, fragments of a great sequence of spells.

Could it be?

Piece by piece he became aware of something he had never known before. The magic here had been woven into a song, a deep and beautiful river of music, and the music had been the temple. It had been built not by men, but by mages, powerful and ancient, and longer ago than he could have imagined.

It is the nature of music to be pleasing, for its structures to suggest themselves to the ear, and so it was with this. The longer he listened the clearer the music became. It was as though the tune fed upon his listening and grew stronger.

Cal stood transfixed in the chamber beneath the ground. He understood why the Faer Karan had destroyed this place. It spoke of a magic that they could neither replicate nor comprehend. They did not know music. It was not part of their lives and they did not hear the significance of the notes as men did. They were tone deaf.

He drew power to him, more and more, feeding it into the song, and after a while he started to sing, and the stones about him began to dance.

*

Sam rose early, just before the sun. He left his small room and for the hundredth time he promised himself that he would find a better place to live, and now perhaps he would. Delantic and Gadilari and all their allies were dead. The news had been brought to him yesterday evening. The remaining men had died suddenly in their cells, and there was no apparent cause. Their particular evil was gone from the city, and hopefully from the world.

He felt somehow empty. Now his days would be filed with thieves and muggers, deception and lies. It would seem ordinary after the last few weeks, but it was what he was here for – to keep the law.

He dressed slowly and went out into the street.

There was an excited air in the old town. He saw one or two people hurrying through the streets. He saw people smiling, talking with wild gestures and he almost crossed the street to ask the cause, but his feet carried him on towards the law house until he came to the junction at the top of the market street that led down to the strand.

He looked up.

For a moment he could not breathe. Where before he would have been able to see the citadel bulking over the old houses, a vast spire of glass, or what looked like glass, reached up into the sky. It towered above every building in the city, caught the morning sun and scattered it about so that every street now seemed full of rainbows.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Sam turned and walked towards it, suddenly aware that he was just one of a throng of citizens making their way towards the new temple.

He knew at once who was responsible. It was Cal Serhan, the Mage Lord. He had given the city back its heart.

As he drew closer the temple revealed more of itself. He saw that there were more spires, and windows set among stone that glowed with colour, and the stone itself was clean and white and seemed to have been carved from a single block.

He stood and stared.

Ulric appeared by his side. The fat man had been crying, and that, too, Sam understood. Beauty, and the very act of creation that had brought it into the city, could do that. He broke the spell for a moment and looked around at the crowd that stood in awe before the resurrected temple.

“It is wonderful,” Ulric said.