The River Wall (33 page)

He drew back in shock, and for just a moment, he seemed on the point of asking me to explain. Then his face closed up again. “I told you yesterday,” he said angrily, “to save your comments for the hearing.”

“We will never
reach
the hearing,” I said.

“That’s enough!” He turned on his heel and walked toward the door. The guard waited for Tarani and me to follow him, then came out. He closed and locked the door.

“Keep safe!” Zaddorn shouted after us.

Outside, the cloud-diffused sunlight seemed terribly bright after the dimness of the cells, and Tarani and I could only stand and blink for a moment. By the time we could see clearly, we were surrounded by a squad of guards. One of them was the man who had been in front of Thanasset’s house, the one through whom I had looked into the eyes of Ferrathyn.

The eight men formed a marching group around Tarani and me, and Thanasset moved out in front of the group.

I felt the keen edge of energy that was, by now, familiar and welcome—it marked the shift from waiting to doing. It was both like and unlike the other times—when I had decided to enter Lord City and contact Tarani’s mother, when I had finally made the commitment to search for Kä and the second steel sword. The relief of action after inactivity was there, but there was also a greater weight of fear, and awareness of the consequences of failure.

Always before, I had defined success partly in terms of my own survival. That was not the case now. During the night, I had considered the possibility that I had already accomplished all that I was meant to do in Gandalara. I had been the mechanism by which the sha’um had been saved. I had been the first to comprehend the significance of the earthquake and volcanic eruption. I had brought Tarani, integrated with Antonia and somewhat protected from Ferrathyn’s power, to a place where she had a fair chance to defeat Ferrathyn. Zanek had come back. He could be the one meant to lead Gandalara into a new life, beyond the borders it had always known. For the first time since my arrival in Gandalara, I felt a deep sense of having fulfilled my destiny.

Once again, I had come to terms with imminent death.

Just don’t bet I’ll go quietly
, I said to myself, aiming the thought at Ferrathyn,
or that I’ll be alone when I go.

The Council offices—and the vault where the Ra’ira had been kept—were in the building directly opposite the confinement center, but the Council met, officially, in a large building at the edge of the largest city square. It was a distance of some ten blocks, and my nerves were on edge as we passed each side street. I noticed that our “friend” from the day before had taken up a position directly behind Thanasset, and that only made me more sure that an attack was planned. Tarani looked back at me once, tilting her head slightly in Thanasset’s direction, and I nodded.

Apparently, no attempt had been made to keep our capture a secret. From the moment we left the jail, a crowd of people had gathered to follow us, calling out angrily. More people joined them from the side streets as we moved along the wide avenue. Thanasset turned to talk to one of the guards, and our escort spread out to keep as much distance as possible between us and the crowd, and still form a containment ring around us.

We were nearly in the square when it happened. Tarani, as she had promised, was ready for it.

Out of the side street ahead of us ran a group of armed men, not in uniform but moving with an air of trained precision. At the exact moment they appeared, someone in the crowd behind us yelled: “Kill the traitors!” The crowd surged forward from behind, forcing the rear guards to whirl around to face them. Thanasset had drawn his sword and was standing his ground against the oncoming group. Behind him, the guard drew back the hand which held his dagger.

I slammed my shoulder into the guard on my right, snatching the man’s dagger from its sheath as he fell away from me. Then I leaped forward.

The guard, and the men in front of us, were staring in confusion at Thanasset, who had taken on the appearance of Milda.

Thank you, Tarani
, I thought fervently.

The High Lord herself was nowhere to be seen.

I wrapped my left arm around the neck of the guard behind Thanasset and buried my dagger in his right side. The men in front yelled, and Thanasset whirled around. The half-image of Milda—transparent only to me, I was sure—wavered and faded, and it was clearly Thanasset who stared at me, the guard, our positions, and the dagger clutched in the mans hand.

Something changed in Thanasset’s eyes,

“I don’t have time to explain now,” I said. “Defend yourself!”

Apparently, Ferrathyn had assigned the guard to Thanasset specifically, and was counting on the distraction of the mob and the efficiency of the armed group to finish off Tarani and me. All our original guards were defending their own lives against the angry mob, which left Thanasset and me to hold our own against the armed squad which had appeared so suddenly. Wordlessly, Thanasset tossed me his own dagger to supplement the one I had stolen, and he faced the attackers with only his sword. With our former guards, we formed a shoulder-to-shoulder circle of defense—nine men against nearly a hundred wild-eyed, frantic people caught up in a mob mentality.

I steeled myself against sympathy for them, and fought hard beside Thanasset. There were too many for us. A sword slashed into Thanasset’s side, and he fell beside me. I killed the man who had hurt him, then I pulled Markasset’s father into the center of the circle of guards. I cradled his shoulders in my arms and hugged his head to my chest.

“Rikardon,” he said, gasping for breath. “What happened? Tell me, what happened?”

“The Ra’ira never left Raithskar,” I said. “Ferrathyn has had it all along. The vineh are under his control.”

“Ferrathyn?” Thanasset demanded, and then coughed painfully. “The Council has to know!” He struggled to stand up.

“The Council
will
know,” I assured him, gently forcing him back. His tunic was soaked with blood around the ugly slash in his side, and blood was pooling on the cobbled street beneath him. “Tarani is on her way there now. She can use the Ra’ira, Thanasset. She’ll beat him.”

The old man looked up at me. The small scar on his brow looked dark against the stark, sudden paleness of his face. “So many lies,” he said. “And I believed him. I let him use me. I betrayed you. Forgive me, son.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “You saved us, too,” I said, “and Ferrathyn deceived us all. But listen to me, Thanasset,” I urged him. “Its all more important than just Ferrathyn, just the Ra’ira, just Raithskar. The life of Gandalara itself is at stake. We’re going to win, Father, and you’ve helped us win.” I groped for something more to say. “Markasset would have been very proud of you.”

The old man smiled at that. He seemed to have passed the point of pain from the wound in his side; I knew he could not last much longer.

“Markasset proud?” Thanasset said. “And what does
Rikardon
think of Thanasset?”

“I—I love you … Father.”

He smiled more broadly, and brought a weak hand up to cover mine and squeeze it. He nodded slightly, and then his eyes went out of focus and his hand fell away, limp as the rest of his body.

I clutched at the old man’s body, kneeling in the eye of a hurricane of strife, and I screamed inside my head. The battle, Ferrathyn, the danger Tarani faced—all were momentarily forgotten in the grief I felt for the kind man who had done nothing but want the best for his family and his city.

It was only when I noticed the cessation of movement around me that I realized what had caused it—my silent scream of grief, voiced in the throats of three sha’um. I laid Thanasset’s head on the ground as gently as I could, then leaped to my feet.

*Keeshah!*

*Stay
,* Keeshah said.
*Coming.*

And come he did, straight down the main avenue of Raithskar, scattering people every which way. The fight around me had stopped at the chilling, unrepeated sound of the sha’um cry, and everyone was milling about uncertainly. In the square west of me, Keeshah leaped into view and waited. He was joined, a moment later, by the cubs, and the three sha’um crouched and began a menacing advance toward the crowd.

The crowd disappeared into the side streets.

Quickly.

The cubs rubbed against me on either side, and Keeshah lowered his head to nudge Thanasset with his muzzle. Keeshah’s mind was so full of sympathy and personal loss that I had to resist letting grief recapture me.

Another sha’um appeared in the square, this one carrying a Rider. He waved and rode over to us, then jumped down and hugged me. It was Thymas. When he released me, he saw the body, and looked at me curiously.

“Thanasset,” I said. “My father.”

“Oh,” he said, and pressed my shoulder. “I am sorry, Captain.”

I nodded, then asked: “How did you get here so fast?”

“We were barely a half-day behind you all the way,” Thymas answered, and grinned. “Zanek told me what you had planned, and also that you had given him full authority to use his own judgment. His
judgment
dictated that we not allow you the opportunity to face Ferrathyn alone.”

“Where
is
Zanek?” I asked.

Thymas shrugged. “We encountered several large groups of vineh—some of us are still fighting them. After your sha’um met us last night, Zanek rode Yayshah. We got separated during one of the battles. I have not seen him since.” He looked around. “For that matter,” he said in a worried voice, “where is Tarani?”

I went cold inside. “She was trying to reach the Council chamber,” I said, pointing across the square, “to face Ferrathyn alone.”

We could have
run
across the square in only a short time, but our sense of urgency was such that Thymas and I both leaped on the sha’um to ride to the Council chamber. We dismounted running, and crashed through the double doors of the high-ceilinged room together.

Tarani was not there. No one was there—no one alive, that is. Seated and lying on the benches that ringed the floor of the room were the torn and bloody bodies of the other Supervisors.

“Who did
this
?” I wondered.

“Are you sure he was here?” Thymas demanded.

“Wait,” I said, catching Thymas’s arm. “If this was to be
a closed
Council hearing, then only Council members should have been here. Without Thanasset, that would only be eleven people, and there are—” I counted. “Twelve.” I blinked, and looked carefully at the bodies. The room was a horseshoe-shaped amphitheater, with its only opening at the door through which Thymas and I had come. Near the far end of the room, two of the bodies were close together, one half-sitting, the other sprawled face-down across a bench. As I concentrated, their outlines blurred.

“There!” I shouted, and jumped farther into the room.

The seated figure moved and changed, and became a thin old man, standing beside the prostrate figure. Gone was any vestige of weakness or kindness. The wrinkled face was like chiseled stone, the slim body wiry with health.

“You are too late,” Ferrathyn said in a cold, powerful voice. “Too late for anything. The people of Raithskar have joined with the vineh; already the Sharith are beginning to falter. And as for this—this
nuisance …
“

The old man reached to the body before him, lifted the face, and turned it toward us. Thymas yelled, and I went speechless with pain. The body was Tarani’s. Her throat had been cut.

Ferrathyn saw us hurting, and he laughed—a low, hollow, infuriating sound. Together, deliberately, Thymas and I stepped together toward the evil old man.

Something struck my shoulder, knocking me forward, and I glimpsed Thymas falling beside me. I heard a swishing sound, and then a clatter. A dagger had struck the brick wall point first, then bounced to the tiled floor. I rolled over to see one of the “dead” Supervisors leaping over benches, a sword ready in his hand. His face was a terrifying blankness.

Purely by reflex, I drew back my right hand and threw my dagger like a javelin. It struck the man squarely in the stomach. He staggered, but his momentum carried him into the open area, where he collapsed to the floor. I looked around. Thymas was on his back, pressed there by another of the Supervisors, and all around us, the “dead” men were rising, their wounds still seeming to bleed.

It was so eerie and unnatural that, for a moment, I merely crouched where I was, staring in shock. Then I heard a sharp, skittering sound, and the hilt of Rika appeared near my hand.

“Pull yourself together,” said a voice from behind us. “They are illusions, and illusion is not Ferrathyn’s skill but Tarani’s. The High Lord must still live, or her skill directed under compulsion by this …
abomination.
“

I put my hand on Rika’s hilt, and looked back at the doorway. Dharak/Zanek stood there, holding the other steel sword. His presence, and the familiar weight of Rika in my hand, brought me out of my half-trance.

Thymas had rolled to the top of the struggle, and was ending it. The other Supervisors moved toward us as I stood up. There were eight of them left, and three of us. Considering that they were moving under compulsion, with less agility and force than
thinking
fighters, the odds were not overwhelming. But fighting them would keep us distracted, and give Ferrathyn time to summon more help.

“Supervisors, I claim the right of a fair hearing,” I called, and the formula was so familiar and so traditional, so highly respected, that it made even the madman-dominated minds of the Council pause.

“You know the power of the Ra’ira,” I said. “It is being used against you by one whom you trusted, one who has used and manipulated the entire city to achieve his own gains. Resist it—”

An invisible hand seemed to close around my throat, and my brain seemed to catch fire. Thymas gasped, and I knew he must be suffering similar pain. I would have closed my eyes—I wanted to close my mind—against it, but I had virtually no control over my own body.

Thymas and I had faced this danger before, but we had been half a world away at the time. This was more proof that it had not been Gharlas’s native power which had threatened us then. It had been Ferrathyn, using the Ra’ira to reach out to and through his satellite to strike at us. Even then, we had not been able to break free unaided—it had taken the sudden distraction of Tarani’s appearance, and the surging presence of Keeshah in my mind, to shatter that control.