Stonewielder (62 page)

Everyone stared at the bizarre apparition. ‘Who in the Lady’s name are you?’ the remaining Guardian demanded. In answer Manask kicked the man down into the crowd. He threw the girl over his shoulder and followed. Pilgrims swung at him with staffs and sticks but all rebounded from the man’s rotund figure. He bulled forward. People fell like dry grass before him.

‘And now I make my furtive escape! Where has that phantom gone, the crowd gasps!’ He kicked down a door and ducked inside.
The priest pressed a hand to his forehead as if to blot the sight from his eyes.

The Guardians arrived at the doorway. ‘After him!’ one shouted, pushing another fellow to the door. But none appeared willing to chase so gigantic a quarry. Snarling, the two dived within.

‘Disperse now!’ the priest suddenly yelled in a surprisingly strong voice. ‘Go home and examine your consciences, each and every one of you! What if that were your daughter, your wife, or yourself upon that blaze? What then?’

The nearest pilgrims turned on him. Those carrying staves held them in white-knuckled grips. The priest returned their furious stares calmly, almost haughtily. He crossed his thick arms. One by one the press thinned until all had drifted away. Bakune and the priest were left alone in the darkened midnight square. Alone but for two figures across the way sitting on the stone steps of a bakery, heads back as if asleep: Hyuke and Puller.

The priest sighed and waved to invite Bakune to accompany him to the gaping doorway. On the second floor they found the two Guardians unconscious and bound. Manask was standing at a window, eating a wedge of cheese. The girl lay on a child’s pallet. Bakune joined Manask to peer nervously over the streets. ‘More will come,’ he warned.

‘They are too busy, I think,’ the priest answered. He sat on the pallet, brushed the girl’s hair from her face. ‘Ella,’ he whispered gently. ‘Come to me.’

The eyelids fluttered. A gasp, chest heaving. The eyes opened wild, white all round, then found the priest. The trembling limbs eased, relaxing. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I tried. Really I did. After you disappeared I took up your message. They came for me – but I am not as strong as you.’

He brushed her brow. ‘You shouldn’t have taken up the burden, Ella. That was not my intent … I am the one who should be sorry. I should have realized.’

She sat up then, gripping his arm. ‘They have seen you! You must hide!’

Gently, he removed her hand, stood. ‘No. No more hiding or running. In fact, I think it is long past the time when I should have acted. Yes.’ He pressed a hand to her cheek. ‘I go now to confront the demon in her den.
You are
the one who must hide. Go to the settlement just outside the town. You’ll find sympathizers there. Continue the mission. In secret for a time. Do I have your word?’

‘She will destroy you!’

His frog smile was reassuring, and unconcerned. ‘They have you now, Ella. I am not required.’

Clearly the girl wanted to argue but clearly she also respected his wishes, and so she was silent, tears coursing down her cheeks. The priest went to the window where Manask stood tapping the wedge of cheese against his chin, frowning. ‘I am not so clear on this plan, my friend,’ Manask said. ‘As I see it, your delivering yourself gains us entry to the Cloister. Once there, while they are busy prodding you with red-hot pokers and eviscerating your bowels, I clean out the treasury. Is this the plan?’

‘Something like that,’ the priest growled, glaring.

‘Ah!’ Manask nibbled the cheese. ‘Well, I like my half of it.’

Bakune eyed the priest, uncertain. ‘You’re not really going to walk into the Cloister, are you?’

The priest appeared distracted, his head cocked as if listening to some distant sound. ‘No, not the Cloister,’ he said, his brows furrowing. ‘That’s not where she is … What is that noise?’

Bakune heard it as well. Roaring, yelling. A mob – a riot. ‘Things have gotten out of control,’ he murmured.

‘No. Worse than that. That’s real terror. Come.’ He started to head for the stairs, but stopped and turned to the girl. ‘Leave town now. Speak to no one. Farewell, and may the gods overlook you.’

‘Farewell,’ she managed huskily, barely able to speak.

At the street Hyuke and Puller were waiting for them. ‘Somethin’s up,’ Hyuke drawled. The two ex-Watchmen were eyeing Manask, their truncheons in their hands.

Townsfolk ran past, coming up the street from the waterfront in an ever-thickening torrent. Screaming was clearer now, rising from downslope. ‘What’s going on?’ the priest asked.

Hyuke thrust out a leg, tripping a man, who fell without a sound. He lay on his back struggling to rise while Hyuke held him down with his foot. ‘What’s going on!’ Hyuke demanded.

‘I like your way of tricking information out of people,’ Manask said. ‘Reminds me of my own techniques.’

‘They’re coming!’ the man gasped, his eyes fixed downslope.

‘Who?’

‘The Stormriders! They’re here! In the harbour! Run!
It’s the end of the world!
’ And the man brushed Hyuke’s foot aside to scramble away.

‘Riders here?’ the priest muttered. ‘Absurd.’

The crowd thickened; all rushed past, ignoring them. Bakune heard more shouts warning of Stormriders. The priest headed down against the rising tide of humanity. Bakune followed. Manask clomped away into a side street. A number of distracted townsfolk ran into the priest, only to rebound as if having encountered an iron post; Bakune kept in his wake. Several shops were aflame on the waterfront – perhaps from abandoned bonfires. And out past the pilgrim ships at anchor, further out on the dark azure blue of the bay, rested a score of far larger vessels.

They were nothing like any ships Bakune had ever seen before, and he’d grown up next to the sea. Three-masted, extraordinarily large, with dark-painted hulls and tall castles at the fore. ‘What are they?’ he asked of the priest.

For the first time Bakune heard awe in the man’s voice as he answered, ‘I’ve never seen them myself, but they match descriptions I’ve heard. Moranth vessels. Moranth Blue.’ The priest faced him, his expression amazed. ‘The Malazans are here, Bakune. This means they’ve completely broken Mare. Passed through Black Water Strait.’

Bakune could only stare at the man while townsfolk pushed past. Some carried snatched precious goods wrapped in cloths or in baskets. He knew where all were fleeing; where the entirety of Banith’s population plus thousands of pilgrims would end up: clamouring before the doors to the Cloister. The very place he had to go. ‘I must speak to the Abbot.’

‘I imagine the man’s rather busy right now.’

Bakune pointed to the harbour. ‘We must decide how to respond to this. We don’t even have a militia!’

‘No doubt the Guardians will order everyone to fight to the death.’

Bakune turned away to head with the tide. ‘Don’t be foolish.’

He just caught the priest’s dark: ‘I wasn’t.’

Long before they were far enough up the Way of Obtestation to glimpse the tall copper doors of the Cloister it became clear that the night’s panic and confusion had degenerated into open terror and riot. Looting had begun, citizens breaking into shops to snatch what provisions or supplies they could before heading for the presumed safety of the Cloister, or striking inland to flee the coast.

Bakune’s two guards now walked at his sides, truncheons at the ready, which they swung at the slightest provocation. The priest went
ahead; so far no one had become so drunk on panic as to attack him. Of the giant Manask, he’d seen no sign.
This must be his night – the night the thief dreamed of all his life. Law and order shattered. All households and shops open to plunder. This must be what a sacking is like. Something we in Rool hadn’t witnessed in generations
.

Pushing round a turn in the Way, they saw ahead a milling press of humanity filling the narrow path like a solid wedge that ran fully up to the distant torchlit – and now firmly closed – copper doors. Before the entrance massed Guardians fought to keep back the mob. Staves rose and fell like scythes. Everyone begged for entry, arms raised, hands beseeching. Bakune leaned to the priest to shout: ‘This is impossible! I know another way!’

Nodding, the priest forced a path through the press to a side alley. Once within he turned to Bakune and invited him to lead. Bakune caught Hyuke’s eye. ‘The gardens.’

‘That low wall?’

Bakune nodded.

Hyuke heaved Puller forward by his soft leather hauberk. ‘Let’s go.’

Bakune and the priest hurried side by side behind. ‘Where are we headed?’ the priest asked.

‘There’s a large garden within the grounds. Parts of it touch upon an exterior wall. We’ll try there. And your friend,’ Bakune added. ‘Where is he?’

‘He’s with us.’

‘Really? On a night like this? Any building would be open to him. Gem merchants, goldsmiths.’

‘He’s convinced the Cloister sits on a mountain of riches. Nothing will keep him from it.’

Bakune could not resist asking the question that had been on his mind since first encountering the astonishing fellow: ‘So – he really is a thief?’

The priest eyed him, one brow raised. ‘He takes money from others. Does that make him a thief? So too then are most advocates and bankers.’

Bakune did not think that explanation entirely convincing but he said nothing. Personally, he thought the fellow would come away empty-handed from any search of the Cloister. Still, all those contributions from so many thousands of pilgrims and devout over all these generations … but no, the operating costs of such a huge establishment no doubt consumed all of it.

Once they reached the length of street where one wall ran alongside the Cloister gardens it became clear that Bakune was not the only resident to think of this alternative route. Makeshift ladders leaned against the brick wall; abandoned possessions cluttered the street. The foreign pilgrims might come bashing against the main gates, but the Banith residents had headed for the back entrance. Hyuke took hold of a ladder and shook it to test its solidity.

‘Don’t go in,’ a hoarse voice warned from nearby.

Everyone turned; an old woman sat in the shadow of the wall.

‘Why not?’ Hyuke asked.

The woman pointed up. ‘No one’s come back. I’ve called and called. And there were screams. Terrible, they were.’

‘There’s panic all over,’ Hyuke said dismissively.

‘Where is everyone, mother?’ Bakune asked.

‘Run off. Fled when the screaming started.’

Bakune caught the priest nodding. ‘Stay here, mother,’ the man said gently. ‘Warn everyone away.’

Then a great voice boomed from an alleyway: ‘Touch nothing! It may be a trap!’

The priest flinched as if he’d been stabbed and he cursed beneath his breath. Manask came lumbering from the darkness. The two ex-Watchmen smacked their truncheons in their palms, jaws clenched.

‘Silence now, everyone!’ he shouted. ‘This is my particular specialty. I will climb the wall!’ The huge man took hold of the ladder, and with much grunting and fumbling dragged himself up its length. The wooden poles bent like bows under his weight. From beneath, Bakune saw that the man’s boots were thick platforms, perhaps solid wood or iron. No wonder he could kick down doors! They must weigh as much as mattocks.

Gasping and grunting, the man levered himself up on top of the wall and sat panting. In this awkward position his thick padded armour puffed up around him like a globe. ‘Ha ha! I have ascended the wall! From here I will secretly scout ahead!’

‘No!’ the priest hissed. ‘Wait, damn you!’

But Manask had swung his feet over and dropped from view. A great thump sounded from the far side. Followed, shortly, by a bellowed: ‘
Hello?
Anyone there?
Hello?
’

Puller was scratching his head. Hyuke thrust his truncheon through its loop on his belt. ‘Well I’m not usin’ that ladder – the guy wrecked it.’

They selected another and the four of them climbed over. Hyuke went first, and Puller last. The gardens were extremely dark and quiet considering the tumult churning the night just beyond its walls. Only Manask’s hollered hellos broke the relative silence. Bakune led the way to the Cloister.

It was here on the path that he came across the first body. He tripped over it and fell into a low evergreen shrub. Hyuke helped him up. The priest examined the body. It was a middle-aged man, a citizen. ‘No wound,’ he said.

‘So what happened?’ Hyuke asked.

‘His life was taken from him.’

‘Taken? How? By who?’

The priest did not answer. He gestured ahead to the dark shadow of the large building ahead. ‘The Cloister?’

‘Yes,’ Bakune said.

The priest started ahead. ‘Only I should enter.’

Bakune followed. ‘
What?
After all this? I have to see the Abbot.’

The priest glanced back, his gaze sympathetic. ‘He may not see you,’ he growled, enigmatic.

Bodies now lay thick upon the gravel paths and across the manicured beds of flowers. They lay where they’d fallen, undisturbed, as if asleep. Across the grounds pounding could be heard from the direction of the main gate. The tall iron-studded doors of the Cloister itself hung agape. A few low lamps glowed within. The priest turned to the ex-Watchmen. ‘Guard the doors. Don’t let anyone in.’