What Lies Within (Book 5) (12 page)

   Below him the two distant figures on the rise turned and departed. Pader let his gaze scan the forest desultorily again. He knew that Leth, before being removed from office by Fectur, had sent out a force of three hundred elite troops commanded by Sir Cathbo, with the notion of harrying the
Karai. The King had not seen fit to apprise Pader of Sir Cathbo's exact instructions, but Pader assumed that if an opportunity arose to get to Anzejarl or his consort Sir Cathbo was expected to take advantage of it. Were Cathbo and his men out there still? Pader no longer knew whether they were alive or dead.

   He was aware of Sir Grenyard's voice. 'They will almost certainly launch an exploratory attack today. They will send the slooths to test our defences.'

   Pader nodded inwardly. This was to be a seige of terror and attrition. Anzejarl's ground troops could have little effect against the mighty walls of Enchantment's Reach, at least in the short term. But repeated attacks from the air, insufficient in themselves to secure victory, could nevertheless wear down resistance and engender fear and dissent within the walls. By such means Anzejarl might hope to force the defenders into impetuous actions. He had succeeded at Giswel Holt; Pader was determined he would not do so here. But what else had Anzejarl up his sleeve? Could the True Sept be preparing to rise at his signal?

   Pader looked back and observed the web of defences erected against the slooths: complex skeins of ropes and netting, sheets of metal mesh; polearms and long-handled household and field implements, fixed in place and angled towards the skies. It appeared unworldly and inadequate.
Large areas of the city-castle remained barely protected; so many areas where it might be breached.

  'Alert the city to the
Karai presence,' Pader said. His mouth was dry, his stomach twisted. 'As far as possible the people should remain indoors. Certainly all parks, squares and open spaces should be avoided until further notice.'

   'Do you intend a curfew?' Sir Almric enquired.

   'Not at this point. I rely upon the militia to maintain order and ensure these precautions are followed. We cannot afford panic or insurgence on the streets. The people must understand that these measures are for their protection.'

   Sir Almric strode off. Pader happened to glance along the parapets. Thirty paces away a solitary figure stood. Lord Fectur, Master of Security for Enchantment's Reach, rested his hands upon a pair of merlons and stared down between, his face set into a near-scowl as he took in the distant
Karai.

   Yes, thought Pader, and what tricks have you up your sleeve, my lord?

   Fectur turned, perhaps becoming aware of Pader's gaze. His grey eyes settled upon the small-statured Murinean. Pader hesitated, then approached him, Kol at his side. Sir Grenyard and the squad of guards came behind. 'Good morning, my lord.'

   Fectur nodded, his face, near-expressionless, nevertheless managing to convey scathing contempt. 'Lord Protector! Your glorious hour is at hand, by all indications.'

   'Would that it were otherwise. But I think you know that glory is not my goal. My efforts are directed solely towards preserving the integrity of our realm.'

   'We are in harmony, then,' said Fectur icily.

   'I would hope so, my lord! It would - ha-ha! - it would worry me mightily to think that anything else could be the case, at any time, let alone one as critical as this!'

   A nerve twitched at the corner of Fectur's mouth.

   Pader began, 'Would you--' - and was interrupted by a cry from Sir Grenyard. He was pointing southeastwards into the sky where, from within a layer of mist, four dark, heavy winged shapes had appeared.

   Pader felt Kol's hand upon his arm. 'Lord Protector, we must move indoors.'

   They quickly withdrew from the ramparts. From a window they watched as the four slooths came in over the city. They were high, well beyond the reach of any missile, their great wings flapping lazily. As they came closer they moved apart, then began to circle, each above a separate area of the city-castle.

   They came lower. Pader saw arrows fly from several towers, but none struck home. He heard faint cries from the streets below. The slooths circled slowly two more times, then began to climb, drawing together again, and flapped away towards the southeast.

ii

   It was a time unlike any that Lord Fectur had known in his entire life. Never before had his plans gone so consistently awry. It was as though Fate toyed with him, wrongfooting him at every turn. Never had he experienced such uncertainty, such violent, relentless, incommunicable turmoil.

  
Shreds. They were still all he had. He pulled them together, worked so assiduously to fill the gaping holes, only to find others forming almost before his eyes. And all the while a wall of silence was building around him.

   For a perfectionist like the Spectre, accustomed to the acquisition and expedient application of information, such a ragged tapestry was intolerable. Such a wall was a galling affront, and a deadly threat. Others knew more than he. Separately or together they worked to keep him in the dark, and his intelligence network, normally unerring, was failing him.

   Too much had gone wrong!

   How?

   Fectur found himself uncharacteristically formulating stratagems that reeked of desperation. Into his mind sprang implausible scenarios, though hardly more implausible than the reality that confronted him. He devised unsound remedies to imperfectly diagnosed conditions, then abruptly, recognizing their worthlessness, dispensed with them and began to consider others, equally deficient. His mind would not be still. He was thinking the unthinkable, facing the unfaceable. For the first time in his life Fectur was beginning to fear.

   Yesterday evening had brought yet more unwelcome news. In the dark hours a solitary rider had returned to Enchantment's Reach. He was a member of The Spectre's security cadre, a man skilled and pitiless, one of the blackhearts who had accompanied Commander Gordallith in pursuit of the Queen. His name was Vos, and he brought with him the first word from Gordallith.

   Fectur had been keenly awaiting news. He received Vos in his private office inside the Ministry of Security building. But as Vos delivered his report Fectur's face fell. He found himself scarcely believing his ears. The report was a schedule of mishaps and blunders. Absolutely nothing had gone to plan. At first he almost scoffed as Vos told him of the devastating grullag attack on the Queen's company.

   'I do not lead you false, my lord,' Vos had insisted, correctly interpreting the look of disbelief on Lord Fectur's face. 'They attacked suddenly, in a mass, and with co-ordination. The Queen's men were caught by surprise, and suffered for it. The battle was brief. Commander Gordallith wishes me to inform you that the purpose of the attack was to secure the release of the leader of the True Sept, Grey Venger, who was the Queen's prisoner.'

   Fectur's eyes had widened. 'What?'

   'Furthermore, my Commander instructs me to inform you explicitly that the grullags were organized and under the command of a child. Commander Gordallith wishes you to know that this is the same child who he interviewed in the village of Lastmeadow.'

   Fectur's jaw had dropped open. He sat staring into nowhere, then in a trance he had risen from his desk. 'By all the . . . !' He paced across the chamber, then back, hearing nothing but the resounding yammer of his own thoughts. It was some moments before he recovered himself and rounded upon Vos again. 'Well? What else, man? What else?'

   The news had not improved. Vos told of the Queen's flight from the battle and how, as Gordallith's men searched for her, she had come upon them, giving them little option but to take her prisoner.

   Fectur became ominously still at this. 'She saw Gordallith? How did he explain himself?'

   'My Commander kept his face covered. He does not believe she recognized him, or any of us,' said Vos. A sweat had broken out upon his brow.

   'What of the chest she carries?'

   'It was to preserve it that she fled the battle. She deems it of the highest importance. But when we apprehended her the chest was missing. She took us to the place where she said she had hidden it, but it was not there. It was unclear whether she tricked us or it had been stolen, as she claimed. She was greatly distressed by its absence, however.'

  
The chest!

   'Did you recover it?'

   'No, my lord.'

  
She was taking it to Enchantment. She had been there before. And inside the chest, within the blue casket that it contained, somehow, it was as good as certain, was a god whose name was Orbelon.

   What did it mean if it was lost? Had it fallen into the hands of Venger and the Legendary Child?

   'Did the Queen tell you anything about it?'

   'She said it had some connection with Enchantment, my lord, where she also said she was bound. She had declared that the forces of Enchantment would be brought down upon all our heads if she was not permitted to continue on her way with it.'

   Fectur closed his eyes. 'Where is the Queen now?'

   Vos had swallowed. 'I regret, my lord, she escaped.'

   Fectur barely flinched. His eyes became slits. He inhaled a long breath. Then his voice came from between his teeth, low and, initially, far too steady. 'It is strange,' he said. 'I believed I had sent a team of specialists upon this mission. Trained, skilled men. Experts in their respective arts, men in whom I could have every confidence. Instead-' his voice began to rise '-instead I find I am served by a group of fumble-fingered, bleary-eyed, dung-eating lackwits. Buttock-brained jakes-dwellers who bang heads and fall over one another's feet while a slip of a girl runs rings around them and leaves them gawping helplessly in the woods like drunken baboons!' Fectur's face had turned dark crimson; flecks of spittle flew from his lips. His voice rose to a higher pitch, even as he recalled that it was he who had taught Issul so well. 'What manner of incompetence is this, man? She
escaped?
How was it possible for her to escape? And did Gordallith not give chase?'

   'She was not alone, my lord,' replied Vos, standing rigidly, steeled, his voice constricted. 'Our horses were set loose. By the time we had recovered them and were in a position to give chase darkness had fallen. We could not find her trail again before morning. She rode away with one other, that much we know. Commander Gordallith continues to track her, but it is an arduous task.'

   'Don't bring me excuses!' Fectur yelled, his eyes blazing, fists clenched at his sides, and Vos had quailed, believing himself dead.

   Fectur had stormed to the side of the room, fighting to regain control of
himself. Had Issul recovered the chest? Who was this other who aided her?

   'Shenwolf!' he spat the name.

   'My lord?'

   'How many survived the Grullag attack?' demanded Fectur.

   'Perhaps half, my lord.'

   'But they did not rejoin her?'

   'They mounted a search, without success.' Vos had swallowed, then added, 'There is one other thing, my lord. A strange, uncanny phenomenon. While the Queen was in our custody she appeared to summon phantoms to aid her. A pair of horse-warriors, without substance yet most real to the eye. She called out to them, invoking the name of the King. They appeared, rode towards her, then vanished.'

   Fectur had glared at him, ever more uncertain of what to make of what he was hearing.
Phantom horsemen? Grullags, the Child, Grey Venger? And how,
how
, could Gordallith be so inept? To
accidentally
kidnap the Queen? Then to allow her to escape? What was he doing?

   And who now had the chest and the god within it?

  
A god! A god! To possess such a thing!

   There is power!   

   'Begone from my sight!' he snarled. 'Return at first light. I will have new orders for Gordallith.' 

   Fectur had spent much of the night pacing his chambers, fuming, disbelieving, damning as he grappled with the problem of how best to deal with this setback. In the end there was little he could do. Then news arrived that the
Karai were at the base of the scarp. And at dawn Vos returned.

   'Rejoin Gordallith and inform him that his orders remain unchanged,' commanded Fectur. 'He is to find the Queen, as before. I do not expect her to return. He is to locate the chest - and most vitally the casket that is inside it - and bring it to me. Go now. I will not tolerate any further incompetence.'

   Vos swallowed apprehensively and said, 'I regret, my lord, I cannot leave. The Karai are outside our walls.'

   Fectur turned him a gelid stare. He advanced to stand directly before him, their bodies almost touching. Slowly, deliberately, through clenched teeth, he said, 'I am aware of that.
But you are a specialist of the Security Cadre, are you not? So, Vos, you will use stealth. You will become invisible. You will move through the Karai and the Karai will not see you. You will pass like a mote of breeze-blown dust through a field of corn. Do you understand? And you will find Gordallith and you will tell him everything that I have said.
Do you understand?
'