Dancer's Lament: Path to Ascendancy Book 1 (54 page)

He threw himself down, sweeping, and caught the woman’s lead foot, taking her down. When she hit the ground he fell on her with a dagger to the neck.

Yells now and more pounding footsteps. Cursing silently, he leaped to the tent wall and slit it open, running.

Guards were converging from all sides; he was at the centre of the entire damned encampment. He felled a number of closing troopers and ducked through more tents, but the circle was closing about him.

Then a great brassy animal howl brought him up short and he clamped a hand to his panicked heart – oh, by all the gods no! But for him, who had heard the titanic bellow so close, it was not quite as earth-shaking as it should be and he realized what he was hearing.

If there was alarm before it was a full-blown riot now. Dorin stepped out into a mass of functionaries, servants and courtiers, all running about to save goods or themselves. Tents were on fire – or looked to be – and thick black smoke coursed in the alleyways between the tents, obscuring everything. The night was also suddenly a good deal darker than he recalled it being.

A hand plucked at his sleeve. ‘This way.’

Dorin yanked his arm free. ‘I know the way!’

‘Just helping.’

‘I don’t need your help.’

‘It would appear that you did – getting caught and all.’

He ducked into a tent. ‘I wasn’t caught. And anyway, what were you up to then?’ A chest was thrust at him, which he took. ‘What’s this?’

‘A war chest . . . literally.’

‘Chulalorn’s?’

‘Ours now.’

Dorin could just make out the shifting shadowy figure of Wu at the rear of the tent. ‘Could you cut through here?’ the mage asked, pointing.

Dorin tucked the rather heavy chest under one arm. ‘What, you don’t have a knife?’

‘Have to keep my hands free. And you have more than enough for both of us.’

Dorin slit the canvas. ‘What about that stick of yours? Where’s that?’

‘Comes and goes.’

Wu slipped through and Dorin heard him say ‘Oh dear’.

A patrol of armoured Kanese troopers occupied the intersection of alleyways. They squinted at them through the smoke.

Another of the great brassy hound’s bellows now burst forth, erupting from the gap to the left where a dark shape could be seen advancing through the coils of black smoke, slathering, eyes at a man’s height, glowing a golden amber.

The troopers charged the beast.

Wu took off running in the opposite direction, his robes hiked up over his skinny dark shins. Dorin followed, covering the rear. Together they reached the outer picket line and Dorin was fascinated to watch how shadows now swirled about them in obscuring snaking banners.

‘We are not in Shadow?’ he asked, a touch alarmed.

Wu puffed as he jogged along, obviously not used to such exertion. ‘No. I am using it – but we haven’t entered the Warren.’ The mage drew out a handkerchief and daubed his sweaty brow. ‘It is done, I assume?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very good.’

‘Good?’

‘Your reputation shall grow now, my friend.’

‘A poor reason to kill a man,’ Dorin mused.

Wu fluttered a hand. ‘He let his pride rule him and suffered the consequences.’

‘His pride?’

Wu halted, a hand at his chest, blowing out great breaths. ‘Well, he should have withdrawn.’

‘Now you’re some sort of military tactician?’

‘Oh, no. Just much more . . . indirect.’ He pointed north with his walking stick, which had suddenly appeared in his hand. ‘Not the river again. I absolutely refuse.’

Dorin headed east. ‘Don’t worry. There are boats here that the Kanese have abandoned.’

Wu pressed a hand to his chest once more. ‘Well, thank Togg for that, my friend. Dunking in water is bad for your health, you know.’ He looked Dorin up and down, frowning at what he saw. ‘Though you could use a wash . . .’

*

When the alarms sounded Iko leaped from her cot, pausing only to jam on her boots and yank her sword free. She burst from her tent wearing her linen trousers and shirtings to find the encampment in an uproar of confusion, and immediately made for the king’s quarters. Soldiers ran to and fro seeking any enemy; servants and court functionaries ran past her, intent on escape.

A blood-chilling howl burst forth then from the quarters nearby and after halting, stunned, she ran in that direction. She found many who had seen the beast, but none had caught it as it rampaged about the alleyways and tents. She gave up the pursuit and ran back to the king’s quarters.

Here her sisters were turning away all but the highest of commanders and court officers. She pushed through to Chulalorn’s private quarters to find the king laid on his bed, bloodstained and quite obviously dead. So too were three of her sisters, Yuna among them.

Iko searched among her feelings and found that she mourned the loss of her sisters far more than that of her king.

Next to the bed stood Mosolan in a loose cotton shirt, his long iron-grey hair unkempt about his shoulders. The man was studying something small that he turned this way and that in his fingers. Iko nodded to her assembled sisters and crossed to him. ‘What is this, sir?’

He extended it to her. ‘This was set upon his breast by his killer.’

It was a bird’s foot, but not just any bird: a large bird of prey, complete with talons, now stained in blood. ‘What does it mean?’

‘A badge, or sigil. An announcement. A warning. All at the same time.’

‘I did not think the Protectress would have dared.’

‘Neither did I.’ The general set the foot on to a slip of white silk then rolled it up and placed it in a wooden box. ‘You and your sisters will head immediately to the heir.’

Iko nodded. ‘Of course. I will inform our new commander.’

The old general raised a greying eyebrow. ‘That is you.’

Iko swallowed hard; her glance went to Torral, who glared her resentment. ‘With respect, m’lord, that is for the heir . . .’

‘As acting regent until the heir’s investment, I so order it.’

Iko bowed her head. ‘Very good, m’lord.’

‘You and your sisters are dismissed. The elites will escort the king to Kan for his funeral. You must go with all speed.’

Iko bowed. ‘As you order, sir.’ She gestured her sisters out and left with them.

When they reached an outer chamber, Torral turned upon her as she had known she would. ‘Since when do outsiders dictate our officers?’ she demanded.

‘Just until the heir decides,’ Iko answered calmly.

‘The heir? The heir? Do not talk to me of him!’ Torral stabbed her fingers to her chest. ‘
We
decide. Us.’

Iko merely shrugged. ‘Very well.’ She raised her chin to the gathered sisters. ‘Are we fine with things for now, or need we organize some sort of vote?’

There was silence among them until Rei waved to the exit, saying, ‘Now is not the time, Torral – let’s just get going.’

Iko raised her open hands to Torral. ‘Then let us go.’ She headed out with her sisters leaving Torral behind. The Sword-Dancer remained staring after them, her jaws working.

* * *

Word of the tumult within the Kanese camp came to Silk by a messenger, and he returned to the palace. Here he waited with Mara, Smokey and Koroll in the empty audience chamber, their steps echoing hollowly from the white marble pillars and walls. All they knew was that Shalmanat yet lived. They waited for Ho to come out of her quarters, for they had news for him and things to discuss.

Such as the future of Heng itself.

As the night passed, Silk dealt with messengers from the various quarters of the city, all with urgent details of organization. Between times he tried to doze on the marble throne. Heavy footsteps finally woke him and he straightened on the tall chair. Smokey roused himself where he was lying down on one of the stone benches that those seeking audience occupied during court business and nudged Mara to wake her. Koroll emerged from the far shadows.

Ho nodded to them. ‘She sleeps. I have numbed the pain. But she is weak – very weak. Too much blood lost. I have done all I can.’

‘We have Denul talents here in the city,’ Silk objected. ‘Summon them.’

Ho blinked at him, appearing completely drained. ‘None is as skilled in such matters as I.’

Silk was amazed – he hadn’t known that. He inclined his head. ‘My apologies.’

Mara cleared her throat. ‘We have news. Chulalorn has been assassinated. His army is retreating. The siege is over. The question for us is . . . do we pursue?’

Ho absorbed the news with his typical stone-faced calm. He frowned. ‘Pursue? Whatever for?’

‘They are in complete disarray,’ Smokey said. ‘We could eradicate their remaining force. Punish them further.’

Ho was shaking his head. ‘No need. Who killed the king?’

Koroll spoke up. ‘I believe it was our young friend.’

‘We don’t know that,’ Mara objected. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Who else?’

Mara threw open her arms. ‘It’s a wide world . . . Dal Hon wouldn’t mind.’

‘Why don’t we pursue?’ Smokey asked, gesturing to the south. ‘They have stores, equipment. We need it. We could capture it.’

Ho waved off the idea. ‘On the contrary, we should offer help. Perhaps they need more carts and wagons . . .’

Silk barked a sudden laugh at that. ‘
Touché
, Ho! What a supremely galling insult.’

The burly mage frowned his confusion. ‘I was only trying to help.’

‘So what are we going to do?’ Smokey demanded. ‘Let them go freely, without any further cost? Look what they’ve done to us.’

‘Their king is dead,’ Koroll rumbled. ‘Let them go. It is Heng that needs our attention, not Kan.’

Mara slapped a hand to her palm. ‘We have to decide, now. Either way.’

‘Ignore them,’ Ho said. Koroll grunted his agreement.

‘I say we pursue,’ Smokey said. Mara pointed to him, nodding. She eyed Silk. ‘Well?’

Silk realized that they were all now peering up at him – except Koroll – as he was still occupying the throne. He cleared his throat, rather self-conscious, and considered. Did he really give a damn about the Kanese? He decided that he didn’t. ‘Let them go.’

Mara glowered, muttering, but didn’t challenge him.

‘It is this assassination that troubles me,’ Ho said. ‘She will be blamed. Representatives from the other states will denounce it.’

‘What of it?’ Mara asked, now pacing in circles, obviously eager to go. ‘That and this demonstration of her powers leave her unassailable. No one will ever dare attack us now. We rule the centre of this entire continent unopposed.’

‘It is a troubling precedent.’

‘We could capture the assassin,’ Koroll suggested. ‘Put him on trial and execute him for regicide.’

Mara laughed her scorn. ‘Oh please. Are you telling me this is something to be upset about? Sons strangle their own fathers for a throne. Daughters poison their mothers.’ She threw up her hands. ‘If a prince doesn’t have paid agents in place to kill his brothers then he isn’t fit to rule!’

‘All is not so dark as you say, Mara,’ Ho objected. He pointed to the throne. ‘There it is. Shalmanat is weak. I’m sure Silk is willing to give it up. Take it.’

Silk started, half rising from the seat. Mara laughed nervously. ‘Well, I wouldn’t take on all four of you . . . Besides, I have no formal claim.’

‘Since when has that been necessary?’ Ho asked. ‘Go ahead – take it.’

She raised her hand in an obscene gesture. ‘Go to Hood’s path, Ho,’ she said, and stormed from the audience chamber. Silk felt a buffet of Warren power and the tall stone doors boomed shut in a crash. Pieces of broken marble facing clattered to the floor.

In the long silence that followed, Koroll offered, ‘So . . . do we track this fellow down?’

Ho was staring after Mara. ‘Yes,’ he answered, distracted. ‘We will execute him for regicide to placate the other states.’

A KNOCK AT
the door woke Dorin. He pressed a hand to his eyes and groaned. ‘What time is it?’

‘Afternoon,’ answered one of the digger lads.

‘Gods! The afternoon? Orders were to let me sleep till dusk.’

‘Yes, I know. But Wu’s called a meeting. Wants you there.’

Dorin let the hand fall. ‘All right. I’ll be there.’

‘Want tea?’

‘Hood yes.’

‘Okay. We’ll get you some.’

‘Thank you.’ Dorin swung his legs from the cot and sat up. He rubbed his face then examined his cut and bruised hands. Did he have to personally defeat every dumb thug in the city before they’d come round? He wasn’t trained for this sort of fighting; he was a knife-fighter, not a grappler. How many would it take before they’d just wise up? It would all be so much easier if he could just kill them. But that would rather defeat the object of assembling a gang, wouldn’t it?

Sighing, he pulled on his low soft shoes and went out to find the meeting. He was handed a tiny glass of tepid tea and directed to Wu’s rooms, where the mage kept a sort of unofficial underworld court. Here he found Rheena standing up against the wall. She was in charge of their troop and all the day-to-day running of the territory. She operated out of Pung’s old quarters; Wu had obviously called her in for this get-together.

Dorin noticed that she was now dressed in a fine engraved leather jerkin over a loose-sleeved white cotton shirt with black trousers. She gave him a smile and a wink and he nodded in answer, leaning back and crossing his arms.

‘Business is good,’ Wu called to him. ‘And we have most of it.’

He gave the barest of shrugs. Wu’s lips pursed and he glanced about to the ten or so hand-picked lieutenants and bodyguards. ‘Yes, well . . .’ He set his elbows on the table and meshed his fingers. ‘I have decided on a plan . . .’

‘What is it?’ Dorin demanded, wearily.

Wu let his hands fall and shot a quick glare. ‘Our problem is that we lack street muscle and enforcers. We can’t defeat Urquart one to one. Dorin here can’t be everywhere.’

‘I agree,’ Rheena added.

Dorin agreed as well, but wasn’t certain of any alternative. ‘So? What’s your plan, then?’

Wu raised his hands and steepled the fingers again, then noticed what he was doing and whipped them from sight. ‘I’ve assembled quite the war chest. I’m sure we have far more coin on hand than any other gang. Therefore, I suggest bribery, price-hiking, kickbacks and outbidding. We’ll take the market out from under all of them and squeeze them dry. Then we’ll bribe or outright buy their followers and muscle.’