The Plains of Kallanash (60 page)

At noon the following day, the third since the red signal flag was shown, some fifty people gathered in the entrance hall ready to go to the scholars’ hall for the assembly. Hilligor was left in charge of the tower, to keep watch in case of any attempt by the Slaves to retake it and to guard the prisoners. Klemmast, to his annoyance, was left behind too, and most of the warriors from beyond the border also stayed. The warriors could be no help in the Ring, knowing nothing of it, but they were familiar with the tower by now, and could be relied on if it came to a fight.

Hurst, Dethin and Mia were all to go to the assembly. Dethin would tell his story to the Karningholders, and Tanist thought Mia’s connection would be useful. Hurst was uneasy about it, but they had escape plans in place, and the route back to the tunnel would be kept clear by Skirmishers.

“Keep Mia at the back,” Tanist said to Hurst, “and at the least sign of trouble, get her out of harm’s way. You and Dethin both, understand? Don’t hesitate. She may be as brave as any of us, and handy with a dagger too, but if the arrows start flying, pick her up and run.”

“What about you?” Hurst said. “You can shoot about on those crutches now, but a sword’s more use, I’d have thought.”

Tanist grinned. “My Companions will be standing right behind me at all times. They’ll carry me to safety, if need be.”

Hurst looked the faces surrounding him, some excited, some grim, some thoughtful. This was the moment when all their plans would be laid out for the world to see, the moment when the last shred of uncertainty had to be set aside. Once they stepped into the
great lecture hall, there was no retreat, they were committed to see things through to the end – whatever it might be. And, just as when waiting for a battle to start or before entering the tournament ring, Hurst’s mind cleared of everything but the task ahead. There was something satisfying in reducing all life’s problems to just one – survival. The ultimate goal was to establish a new, saner form of governance on the Karningplain, but here, today, the only objective was to face up to whatever came, and live through it.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his sword and snapped on his gloves.

Silently the group filed out of the entrance hall into the ante-chamber and down the stairs to the Hall of Magic. Hurst was near the middle of the group, with Mia and Dethin just behind him. The men were all fully mailed and armed, but Tanist had insisted Mia wear what he called proper clothes – the trousers, long tunic and scarves of a Karningholder. “We want them to be sympathetic,” he had said bluntly, “and she’ll make more of an impression this way than looking like a barbarian.”

They wove backwards and forwards on the black paths, the only sound the creaks and chinks of battle gear, the stump of boots and the tapping of Tanist’s crutches. Then they curved down the widening stair and through one of the gates to the Hall of Light. Small wooden signs had been posted by each tunnel now, showing the direction and the buildings reached that way. Guards had been posted in the hall
– “To avoid any surprises,” Tanist had explained – and they saluted smartly as the group passed by. Then on down the tunnel. It seemed very familiar to them now, but Hurst had not forgotten how alien it had seemed when they first encountered it, with its smooth walls and floor and the eerie glowing light emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once.

After a while they came to the first alcove, and Tanist struggled to find the right place to press to open the hidden door, before surrendering to Dethin’s expertise.

Inside, several anxious scholars waited with guttering torches.

“Quickly now, this way!” one said. “Mind your step
– it’s a bit rough.”

This proved to be an understatement. Hurst had expected that the tunnel door would decant them directly into the basement of the scholars’ hall, just like the one at the Records Hall. Instead, they found themselves in a crudely excavated cave, which reminded Hurst a little of the caverns under Third Section where the barbarians had gathered before the battle. The walls were black rock, gleaming slightly with moisture, all bumps and jagged outcrops, with here and there the indentations from a pick still visible. Beneath their feet were lumps of fallen stone mixed with gravel, sloping upwards so that occasionally there was a scraping slithering sound and the clash of metal, followed by a curse. Hurst slid himself a couple of times, then Mia went down, and after that they inched along holding hands and feeling their way in the deep shadows, for the torches were well ahead of them.

The cavern narrowed so that the warriors had to creep sideways, but the floor was smooth and level by then, and after that the walls opened out into a more regular cave. Beyond that a door led to a large room half filled with broken chairs and tables, and boxes of cracked slates and nibless pens and other detritus. Finally, a door took them into a wide corridor lit by low-burning lamps.

Several men were left to guard the caves and keep torches ready for their return journey, and more stood in pairs at intervals along the corridor. It was only a short distance before they turned aside and entered a large room, comfortably furnished with rugs, soft chairs and a couple of tables. At one side a ramp swept back and forth to the floor above. Several more scholars were there to meet them, amongst them Danzor.

“This is the preparing room for the great lecture room above,” he said, beaming jovially at them as if this were no more than a regular academic outing. “We will wait here until all is ready, although you are a little late, so it will not be long. Ah, Tillissa! How is it going?”

A stout woman of uncertain age was tiptoeing down the ramp, eyes wide.

“I’ve never seen it so full!” she said in a loud whisper. “Every seat has been taken for an hour past, and still they come.”

“Are they all Karningholders?” Tanist asked. “Any Slaves?”

“A few Slaves, yes. Many Karningholders, but a lot of others – merchants, craftsmen, Aiders. Is that all right?” She looked worried, as if wondering whether she was supposed to refuse admission to the wrong sort.

“The more the better,” Danzor said briskly. “We shall need everyone involved in time, so it’s best they hear what’s going on direct from us. Well, shall we go on up?”

The scholars went up first in a big chatty group, then the warriors silently, in single file again. As before, several were left in the room below to keep it safe for their retreat later, so only twenty walked up the ramp. They could hear the sound long before they emerged, a low rumble like an angry wasps’ nest, getting louder as they ascended. When they reached the upper level, the noise was like thunder. They could see nothing, though, for they were concealed behind a long screen, designed so that a scholar giving a lecture could keep equipment hidden away until it was needed. Here they waited, while scholars ran back and forth, until Danzor deemed the moment judicious and they stepped out onto the dais.

Hurst had been inside the great lecture room many times over the years. It filled most of the first three floors of the scholars’ hall, a semi-circular platform surrounded by tiers of seats rising to a great height, and so designed that even a whisper on the dais below could be heard quite clearly in the highest and furthest seats. It was large enough to accommodate a thousand students, so it was said, and Hurst believed it. Occasionally during very dull lectures he had tried to count the seats, and although he had never quite completed the task the numbers were convincingly high. He counted students, too, and had never recorded more than a couple of hundred, even though the lectures were open to all comers.

Today the room was full to overflowing. On the benches, spectators were squeezed tight against each other, and even the steps were packed with people. More sat on the floor in front of the first seats. At the back, crowds jostled for position and still people fought through the doors and peered over heads from the lobbies beyond. The noise rose to an animated hum, then faded to a low growl, fingers pointing, hands covering whispering mouths, as all heads turned towards the dais.

Hurst could understand their discomfiture. Never before had armed men stood guard here.

To either side of the platform, a line of men stood, helmets hiding their faces, shields in position, mailed hands resting on sword hilts. Three of them carried bows, lowered but primed and with an arrow nocked. They gazed out across the audience, assessing it for threats, as Hurst himself was doing. The benches were too densely crowded to wield a sword, but a bow perhaps…? Or throwing knives, or a dagger. He watched for any sudden movement, his own hand straying to his sword.

And there it was.

Just as Danzor stepped to the edge of the dais, hand held up to command the room, two grey-clad figures jumped up from the floor below. Slaves!

Two warriors strode across to protect Danzor, swords hissing crisply as they were drawn. Danzor stepped back, and there was a whoosh through the room, a collective indrawn breath. One of the Slaves jumped back with a squeal of alarm, but the other, eyes wide with fear, pulled a paper from her sleeve and rather tremulously began to read from it.

“Let it be known…” A pause, a long breath to calm herself. She began again more strongly. “Let it be known that this gathering is unauthorised and must be dispersed immediately. All unscheduled gatherings must apply to the proper authority for permission one month in advance, and… and…”

Tanist laughed at her. He tapped his way to the front of the dais and leaned forward on his crutches so that his face was no more than a few feet from the Slave. Like Hurst and Dethin, his helmet was dangling from his belt so that he could speak clearly, and his amusement was plain to see. The Slave stopped, leaning slightly away from him.

“This
is the proper authority here,
Most Humble
,” he boomed, pointing to the nearest sword. “This gives us permission to gather and speak today. Now go away.”

They went. A few others in grey robes also crept out, no doubt to report to their superiors, but some Slaves stayed. There were no white robes, so none of Those who Serve the Gods were there
– but no, they went about in ordinary clothes, didn’t they? He looked then for the soft brown curls, the honey coloured skin, but the crowds were too great.

Danzor was speaking. Great opportunity… moment of history… right to freedom… determine their own path… Hurst couldn’t concentrate on it. He stood at the back with Mia and Dethin, every nerve stretched, eyes constantly scanning the crowd, watching for the slightest movement. After Danzor, Tanist spoke, with less rhetoric and more forcefulness. He talked about his great victory over the barbarians on the western border, and his horror at finding out that he had murdered Karningers. Murdered
– a strong word. A ripple of disquiet ran through the crowd.

Then Dethin told his story. He spoke quietly, but he drew their attention, no doubt about it. Hurst admired that in him. He himself was comfortable on the field, sword in hand, but he could never mesmerise an audience in that way. After that, Mia was brought forward while Tanist described what had happened to her, and now the crowd was definitely angry. It was a good move, putting her in Karningholder clothes. She didn’t have her torc, of course, but the clothes of a Higher, the upright bearing and demure manner, eyes downcast
– it reminded the men in the audience of their own wives and daughters, he supposed. And when Tanist explained the loss of her baby, Mia wiped a tear from her eye, and Hurst could see the shock and distress on many faces.

Another of the scholars described the proposed Council, and the possible forms it could take, and then it was Tanist again, striding up and down on his crutches, his voice carrying to the furthest reaches of the hall, winding the crowd to a fever. It was intolerable… killing our own people… ruled by outsiders… must be free… stand up for ourselves… take control… The noise amongst the crowd began to rise. Some began to argue amongst themselves, some volubly to agree with Tanist and some punched arms into the air with enthusiastic shouts.

Dethin tapped his arm. “Mia…”

Hurst turned. He had been so absorbed, he hadn’t noticed her distress. She was ghostly pale, hands pressed to her temples. “So much anger…” she muttered. “Can’t shut it out… can’t… must get away…”

And then she collapsed.

Mia woke to grey half-light. She was lying in bed, soft pillows under her head. Her hands outside the covers rested on a silky material, cool to the touch. Directly in front of her was a window which admitted a low watery light, but whether sun or moon she couldn’t tell. Silhouetted against the glass sat a man, his legs stretched out on the window seat, arms folded, head at an angle, fast asleep. A book lay open and disregarded across his lap.

She turned her head to look around her, and the man jerked awake, the book sliding to the floor.

“Mia? Mia!” In a heartbeat he was across the room, smiling at her, taking her hand.

For an instant she didn’t recognise him. Neat, dark hair, a small beard, the rich clothes of a merchant, perhaps, although with no trade collar. Then a flash of memory.

“Dethin?”

“How do you feel?”

A good question. Weak, as if she had passed through a long illness. Disconnected, as though she had been away for a very long time. But there was no pain, no discomfort. She was calm, refreshed, alert.

“I’m fine. But I barely recognised you. Why are you dressed like that?”

“Like what? Oh, these? They’re comfortable when I’m not on duty.”

“I’ve never seen you wear anything but leather gear before.”

He laughed. “You’ve never seen me off duty before. Are you thirsty?”

She wasn’t, particularly, but she allowed him to lift her up a little and then sipped obediently from the beaker he filled and put into her hand. She struggled to remember what had happened, but it all seemed distant and faint, like a dream, hard to grasp. She gave it up.

“How did I get here?” she ventured, after she had drunk enough to satisfy him and he had put the beaker back on a table beside the bed. Now that she was propped up a little higher, she could see around the room. There were furnishings in a dark, polished wood, ornately carved. A folding screen, a mirror on a stand. Two or three rugs of northern style. A couple of low sleeping pallets against the walls with neatly folded blankets. Tables, a chair covered in vivid silk, a chest of some aromatic wood. No curtains, though. No draperies of any kind. And the walls – “We’re not in the tower, are we?”

“Ah, but we are! You mean that there’s no light coming from these walls? Look!”

He jumped up from the edge of the bed, and walked across to the screen, moving it aside to reveal a door. Then with a sharp motion he slid his hand up the wall to one side of the door, and the walls glowed. Down again, and they reverted to dullness. Up, down, the walls responded to his touch.

“See? Isn’t it clever!”

“Wish we’d known that before!”

“Well, not all the rooms do this. Those on the lowest floor don’t. They’re intended as a permanent infirmary, so the lights are on all the time. Storerooms light up when you go inside, and go dark when you leave. But these rooms are designed for people to live in. Do you like it?”

“Oh yes! It feels more homely.”

“Tenya found this place for us. Three bedrooms, a shared living room, its own water rooms… She and Walst have one bedroom, Gantor and Trimon another, and this is the third. She chose the furniture, too. This is the sixth floor. Most of us have moved up here now.”

Mia frowned, pondering that. “So I’ve been asleep here for a while?”

“Ten
– no, eleven days now. A lot has happened while you’ve been in the dreamclouds.”

She soon discovered how true that was. It took the whole of that evening and beyond to bring her up to date with all the developments. Her head was soon spinning. Dethin began the story, but as soon as it was known that she was awake again, others appeared, popping in and out, sitting to chat for a while and then disappearing again. Tenya was the first, with a pair of healers fussing and prodding, then Pashinor and Sylinor, excitedly interrupting each other, followed by Walst and Trimon. They made hearty greetings, and talked cheerily about everyday trivia.

Finally Tanist and Hurst arrived, long after dark. Mia was dressed by this time, in the same trousers and tunic she had worn to the assembly, with a scarf covering her growing hair, sitting in the silk chair. She didn’t want the walls lit, so Dethin had found a couple of lamps but the room was still wreathed in a restful gloom. Hurst came straight to her chair and knelt before her, gazing anxiously into her face.

“Are you all right?” He touched her cheek very softly, as if he thought she might collapse again or melt into a puddle. She nodded, and he laid his head in her lap.

Then he jerked up again. “It’s been so long! We thought you might never wake!” The fear was stark on his face.

She stroked his hair, noticing that he was growing his beard again, although smaller this time, clipped into shape like Dethin’s. He looked tired, she thought.

Dethin brought food and wine, and they talked long into the night. The assembly, it seemed, had been successful in spreading word of their intentions. Every day since, Tanist and Danzor had sat in state in an office in the scholars’ hall to meet with Karningholders and merchants and craftsmen and Aiders to discuss the future. Some had joined them at once, and some were implacably opposed, but a great many chewed their lips and muttered warnings about disrupting a system that, while far from perfect, nevertheless worked well enough, and provided decent roads, medicine and plumbing. They talked to Slaves as well, when they could, reassuring them that only Those who Served the Gods would be forced to leave, and they had no wish to disband an entire religion. It was only the administrative side of things that would change; the temples and rituals would go on as they always had. And no one mentioned the Nine, no longer Gods but somehow not quite human either, now enjoying relative freedom at the tower.

A provisional Council had been appointed and had met twice, and Tanist, to his amusement, was its leader.

“Well, I suppose I don’t have a proper job anymore,” he shrugged, “so I might as well.” But he grinned as he spoke.

The first edict was that everyone must show their hands on request, so that all the Servants could be picked out by their tattoos. The Skirmishers brought to the barrens in preparation for the rebellion had entered the Ring, and armed groups now patrolled the streets and monitored the sky ships and the passes and tunnels through the Ring of Bonnegar.

At the tower, the sixth and seventh floors had become the living quarters for the rebels, now several hundred strong. There were communal kitchens, but everyone had private apartments with windows and proper furnishings. Only those ill or recovering from injury still occupied the infirmary on the ground floor, which included Bernast, lying still and silent in bed for day after day. And to everyone’s surprise, barges had appeared at the boat dock at darkmoon, laden with fresh food supplies. At least they wouldn’t starve for a while.

Eventually everyone but Hurst and Dethin drifted away. “You must be tired,” they said to Mia, or “Time we left you sleep,” but she felt energised and not ready to sleep at all. She had slept for eleven days, after all. She got up and walked across to the window. The moon had not long set and it was full dark,
but across the lake lights still twinkled from many buildings, despite the late hour. The two men were beside her in an instant, not touching her but alert to the slightest sign of dizziness or weakness.

“I’m fine, really,” she said, smiling, although she wasn’t sure she was, not entirely.

Hurst grunted, not convinced. To distract them, she ran her hands over Dethin’s tunic. It was a very fine wool, soft and yielding to the touch.

“I like this better than your leathers,” she said. Then, to Hurst, “Do you have some clothes like this, too? For evenings, perhaps.”

The two men exchanged glances, and she was aware of some unspoken meaning in the air between them. “What is it?” she said, but not alarmed, for there was no tension. What they felt was more amusement than anything else.

Hurst gestured to Dethin, relinquishing the story to him.

“When you first came back from the scholars’ hall,” he began, “you were in the infirmary down below. We stayed with you, of course, both of us. Neither of us wanted to leave you. But after a couple of days, Tanist got restless. He wanted Hurst back helping him, and he wanted me as well. ‘There are healers there,’ he argued, ‘and Tenya’s around, and plenty of men for protection.’ We didn’t want to go, naturally. In case you woke – we didn’t want you to wake up and find only strangers around you. So we talked, and Hurst agreed to spend the days helping Tanist while I stayed with you, and at night we would take turns to watch over you. But that wasn’t good enough for Tanist.”

“The warriors follow you, that’s the catch,” Hurst said. “Skirmishers will take orders from whoever’s in charge, but those from over the border still think of you as their Warlord.”

“And Tanist doesn’t like me much,” Dethin said with a lift of one shoulder.

“You go your own way, and that doesn’t suit him. Anyway, we discussed it, the two of us, and we weren’t happy to leave you alone in there. Everyone else has someone
– Companions or Mentors or just a couple of close friends who stay with them until they recover, and we didn’t see why you shouldn’t have someone too. So we moved you up here as soon as the room was ready, and we told Tanist that one or other of us was going to stay with you at all times, and he was just going to have to get used to it.”

Dethin smiled then. “And then
he
said we were either under his authority or we weren’t, to make our minds up. So we did. Hurst is, and I’m not. And it’s worked out quite well, hasn’t it?”

Hurst laughed and nodded. “Although I’d rather have your job, I must say. I thought I’d be doing things, but I’m just hanging around Tanist in his endless meetings with merchants and such like. It’s very dull. Chatter, chatter, chatter, all day long.”

“Nothing but history in the making,” Dethin said dryly. “So – now you know why I’ve laid aside my sword. But all my gear is in that box over there, and I’ll use it if I need to, with or without Tanist’s blessing.”

She smiled at them, relieved. Tanist wasn’t comfortable with their arrangement, she knew that perfectly well, and this was just another of his schemes to try to prise Dethin away from her. She was glad it had failed.

“And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go to bed,” Hurst said. “All that history in the making is exhausting.”

“Let’s
all
go to bed,” Mia said at once. “This bed, not those things.” She pointed at the pallets on the floor, where the two men had been sleeping.

“We don’t want to disturb your rest,” Hurst said, with a quick glance at Dethin.

“Nonsense. It will be much more comfortable for all of us.” Then, more hesitantly, “Won’t it?”

“Of course,” said Hurst. “Whatever you wish. And we promise not to touch you, until you’re quite sure you want to.”

She hadn’t even thought about that. She kissed him on the nose, grateful to him for expressing it so plainly. Just to be fair, she kissed Dethin on the nose too. Then she undressed, clambered into the high bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

She half woke in darkness, hearing whispering and the soft sounds of clothes being pulled on. Then the door opened and closed, and silence fell. Later, she woke to find Dethin lying beside her, fast asleep. Wintry sunlight gave the room an odd flat light, and she realised just how accustomed she was to the warm glow that emanated from the walls. A quick look around the room showed her Dethin’s clothes tidily folded on a chair, and her own, just as neat, on top of the box. Hurst’s untidy heap of garments had disappeared from the floor. He had started his day early, it seemed.

Once she was up and dressed, Dethin showed her the kitchens further round on the same floor, and the dining room next door with a neat row of matching tables and a fringe of comfortable chairs and low tables for groups to relax in after a meal. The only hot dish was porridge, but there was fresh bread, cheese and fruit, and cold meat from the night before. The elderly women from the tower were in the kitchen, seemingly a permanent fixture. An ornate marble clock sat on a shelf, chiming the hours in musical tones, and people came and went in brisk orderliness. There was an air of purposeful bustle.

Propped on a chair was a large chalk slate with rotas and lists, and a message scrawled across one corner
–
“Mia to see Tanist in office, if well enough”
.

“How terribly efficient we’re getting,” she murmured.

“Are you up to it?” Dethin said. “I’ll send word if you’d rather not go.”

“No, I feel quite well,” she said, and it was true as far as it went. She didn’t feel ill at all, just not quite there, somehow.

They went down the quick way, jumping over the wall and drifting down, and the short journey lifted her spirits just as it had before. She couldn’t tell whether it was the odd floating sensation itself that was so exhilarating or whether it was just a side effect of the magic used, but everyone felt it and arrived grinning. Powerful magic indeed.

There were several people waiting on chairs outside Tanist’s office, but Mia was ushered in at once, and the room cleared, except for Hurst.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Dethin said.

Tanist frowned. “No, you’d better stay. This concerns you.”