The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (94 page)

“Stand up.”

He obeyed the command. Her blade moved with him, threatening to end his life with a flick of her wrist.

Patris pushed his matted black hair back from his face and met her gaze.
Show no fear.
“All right, would you like to tell me what’s going on now?”

“What do you mean?”

“How could you know where I would be?” he asked levelly.

A strange look flitted briefly over her face. “Let’s just say that nothing goes on in this city without my being aware of it. I said before that we could work together. But first I needed to demonstrate the futility of your position, and that of the Thief Guild. I apologise if you suffered any discomfort. Still, the truth can be liberating at times, wouldn’t you agree?” She withdrew the staff from his jugular, holding it ready at her side. He glanced around at the street in which they now stood. It was called Tarpeia, and it was only a few yards from the terraced home where he had been born. Behind Keris, Rhomana’s the bakery and confectioners he remembered fondly from his childhood was now on fire, burning freely with no-one attempting to douse the flames. He could only pray that the owner was not inside.

“The Prophet has given me absolute authority over this city,” she continued. “I have effectively quelled any organised resistance. The fate of Sakara and its people are now in my hands. However, I have decided to defer that decision to you.”

Patris had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s simple. I am appointing you as Guild Master. The position is…currently vacant. I believe that you have the skills necessary to unite this city under a new administration–one that will help to convince the people here of the wisdom of acceding to the rule of the Prophet. I need hardly mention that it is an extremely lucrative position.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Patris declared.

Keris raised her eyebrows. “Strange words, from someone who has been conferred with such an honour. I can see that you need a little more persuasion.”

The drain cover behind Patris jerked open with a clank. He turned to see six individuals climb out. Three wore the studded leather armour of the Prophet’s soldiers; the other three were dressed in the bright green livery of the Asoli–the city watch who were supposed to be loyal to the Guilds. Oliah had told them through the Ring that there were rumours of the Asoli having come to an arrangement with the Keltar during the initial takeover of the city. However, being paid to look the other way was one thing; actively co-operating and participating in such devastation and loss of life in the Free Port was quite another. Seeing the two groups working together like this, it was…shocking.

The detachment of soldiers and watchkeepers advanced toward Patris. The soldiers’ hands were on their weapons. Keris made a cutting gesture with her hand and the company stepped back, taking up position at a discreet distance. She was smiling faintly. “Tell me.” She held up her right hand and pointed to the ring on her index finger. “Do you know what this is?”

“It’s one of those Speaker Rings,” he replied.

“Quite correct,” she said. “It is also the means by which I am coordinating the purge of this city. With a single word of command, I can bring the destruction to a halt–order our combined forces to stand down.”

Patris was sceptical. “Why would you do that?”

Keris lowered her hand and shrugged. “Despite what you may have heard from Lyall and his associates, the Keltar are not monsters. Our goal is maintain order and enforce the Prophet’s rule. If you accept the role of Guild Master and pledge your allegiance to the Prophet, then all of this,” she swept her hand expansively, as if to encompass the fire-wracked city, “would become unnecessary.”

Patris put a hand to his head. His home–everything he had ever known–was being burned before his eyes. And as if that were not enough, the entire weight of responsibility–the guilt–over everything that was happening, had suddenly been placed on his shoulders.

“We would assist you with the rebuilding,” Keris was saying. “You would even be allowed to retain your quaint traditions…with one or two exceptions.” He looked up at her, his tongue paralysed by doubt. “Look, I know you, Patris. You have pointed out many times that you care only about this city and its people, not the rest of the world. This is your chance to secure their future.”

Patris’ tongue felt thick in his mouth. “What must I do?”

Her smile grew. “Come. There is someone I would like you to meet.” She put the back of her hand to her mouth and spoke something into the Ring that he could not hear. There was a clattering sound from the other end of the street. A carriage pulled by striped graylesh and flanked by foot soldiers pulled into view. As it drew alongside and came to a stop, Patris saw the emblem on the door of the carriage–three concentric circles; one red, one white, and one yellow, and over them all, the red flame symbol. The Three and the One. A soldier stepped up smartly, opening the door and extending a set of folding steps. A tall figure in a hooded black robe emerged and stepped down from the carriage. The figure turned towards Patris and Keris, face hidden in shadow.

Keris turned slowly, addressing all of those present. “The Prophet has arrived.” She indicated Patris. “Behold the new Guild Master of Sakara. He is to work with the Keltar to free the city of corrupting influences and return its people to the true faith.” She strode up behind Patris and placed a hand on his shoulder. The pressure was firm and insistent, forcing him to one knee. “Swear your allegiance to the Prophet.”

Patris could feel pairs of eyes burning into him like red-hot pokers. On the opposite side of the street, the roof of the bakers collapsed, sending columns of sparks into the night air. Sweat beaded on his brow. At this very moment, the people of Sakara–his people–were suffering. Dying. Only he could make it stop. How many lives was his collaboration worth? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? He raised his head. “I swear.”

Beneath the shadow cast by the cowl, the Prophet’s mouth distorted into a smile. He reached up and pushed back the hood. Patris’ eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he gazed into a face that was familiar. Too familiar. The face was his own.

The world disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

<><><><><>

Chapter 32

Lyall sat on the edge of the Dais, his legs dangling over the vertical drop to the ground below. Off to his right, the Tower of Akalon rose toward a brooding sky. The early downpour had stopped, but patches of mist lingered in depressions on the rolling plain. Rainwater beaded and pooled on the smooth metal surface of the Dais.
Waiting.
That was the hardest part. Knowing that others were undergoing unnamed hardships, and that you could do nothing to help them or change the outcome. Of course, in the case of Patris, it was he who had cast the thief bodily into the mysterious bank of fog and whatever fate awaited him there. There had been no choice–it had been a simple matter of survival. However, for some reason, that didn’t make him feel any better. Already, Patris had been in there a lot longer than Alondo. He had no idea whether that was a good sign or a bad one. Whatever the outcome, Lyall was quite sure that he would incur the thief’s wrath when he finally emerged. It was a price he was resigned to pay.

He sensed a movement behind him and made to stand. Turning, he saw Shann and Rael waiting for him. The boy was shuffling his feet. Lyall shook off his grey mood and smiled at them warmly. “What can I do for you?”

Shann poked Rael in the side and spoke in hushed tones. “Go on.”

“How is Alondo?” Rael asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Lyall assured them. “He seems tired, mostly.”

“Is he sleeping?” Rael inquired.

“Not when I last saw him,” Lyall returned. “I think he just needs some time to himself. I would suggest leaving him on his own for now. He knows where we are if he needs company.”

“How about–” Rael winced and turned on Shann. “Owww, will you please stop doing that?”

Lyall adopted a bemused expression. “Is there something going on between you two?”

They answered simultaneously. “No,” said Shann; “Yes”, said Rael. They looked at each other.

“No,” Rael assented. “It’s just that…well, Shann and I made a discovery earlier–”

“Well, it was really Rael rather than me,” Shann put in.

“Yes, but it was your reasoning on magnets that gave me the idea of looking at gravity waves.”

“I was just rambling,” she insisted. “I don’t even know what a gravity wave is.”

“Stop.”
Lyall held up one hand and shut his eyes. “Look, I have no idea what either of you is talking about.”

“No,” Rael acknowledged. “Look, I’ll start from the beginning. During our journey to meet the Chandara–”

“After we escaped from the tower,” Shann interrupted. The other two looked at her. “Sorry,” she said, lapsing into silence.

“Anyway,” Rael continued, “the weapon that the Prophet is constructing, we found out how it works. Shann told me about Annata’s warning that the instrument that she had concealed here for us to render the weapon ineffective was highly dangerous. That led me to theorize about how such a weapon might be safely disarmed. What I discovered was…so disturbing that Shann and I have been debating ever since about who to tell. She finally insisted that I come and talk to you.”

Lyall nodded thoughtfully. “I see. So what’s your conclusion?”

Rael glanced at Shann, then took a deep breath. “In simple terms, the Prophet’s device combines lodestone gas and ordinary gas in such a way that it would generate limitless energy, resulting in an explosion of unlimited power. There is one way and one way only that such weapon could be safely neutralized, and that would be to use an instrument that causes gravity waves to radiate away, thereby converting the ordinary gas to lodestone gas and rendering the weapon inert.”

Lyall felt a cold shiver run through him. “Wait a moment. Are you saying that you can make lodestone artificially?”

“Not me,” Rael returned. “I would have no idea how to make such an instrument. It’s way beyond our technology. But if Annata’s people have been able to construct one and have left it here, then the one who possessed it would be able to create lodestone at will. They would, in effect, have absolute power.”

“Are you certain about all of this?” Lyall asked.

“As certain as I can be,” Rael replied. “I’ve checked and re-checked the equations. The theory is sound.”

Lyall was staring into space. “All of this…all of the elaborate testing–the division of the instrument into four separate components. It all makes sense now.”

“Rael doesn’t believe it’s enough,” Shann broke in. “He believes that as soon as it has been used, Annata’s instrument must be destroyed without fail.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Lyall said. He paused for reflection. “Perhaps we ought to keep this from the others, for now. They have enough to worry about. If we succeed in destroying the weapon, then we can discuss how to dispose of the instrument safely. If not–well, it won’t matter very much, will it.”

Shann and Rael both nodded.

There was a sudden shout from the middle of the Dais. The three of them turned to see two figures emerging from the dome of fog.

~

“Patris Has Failed The Trial.” Boxx’s sing-song voice carried a note of finality.

The party had gathered around Patris. Their faces were a mixture of fear and concern. The thief had a haunted look. His long dark hair was matted, and his eyes were wild. “Well, what did you expect?”

“It’s all right,” Keris appeased. “I’m sure you did your best.”

Patris snorted. “Did my best…you people don’t have a clue. None. I’m not supposed to talk about it, right?”

“That is correct,” Keris confirmed.

“Then I will tell you one thing, and one thing only. The Prophet must be stopped. Whatever it costs–whoever has to be sacrificed–he must be stopped. He must be…” Patris pushed past the others and headed for the tented area. They all watched him go.

Shann looked up at Lyall. “Well, at least he didn’t hit you.”

Lyall’s face was grim. “I think I might have been happier if he had.”

Keris turned to Boxx. “Who is next for trial?”

The Chandara raised its head. “Rael Is Next.” All eyes turned to the boy. He was doing his best to appear brave.