The Plains of Kallanash (50 page)

Quietly they drew their swords and prepared to meet the tower’s occupants. Hurst opened the door and listened. No sound. Cautiously they crept into the rectangular hallway beyond
; all was still. To their left were massive wooden doors edged with metal, sealed shut with iron bars thicker than Hurst’s waist. Clearly they were seldom opened, for a mismatched collection of benches and chairs sat in front of them. On either side were tall windows through which a slender line of red was visible in the sky. On both sides of the hallway were closed sandwood doors, exactly like the one they had just left. At the far end, in what must be the centre of the tower, was a circular open space and a ramp curving upwards.

By signals, Hurst divided his group into two, and each began methodically checking doors. Hurst took the doors on the far side. The first two rooms were offices, with desks, shelves and cupboards, an assortment of chairs, tables heaped with piles of paper, with no exits or stairs, and no people. The third was a long room filled with beds, each neatly prepared with fine linen sheets and woollen blankets, but all empty. Gantor and Hurst methodically checked it from end to end, but found nothing alarming.

“Bunkroom?” Gantor wondered. “Or infirmary, perhaps.”

“Useful either way,” Hurst said.

The fourth door was locked. The fifth door hid another even longer room with beds, also empty.

They got no further. A penetrating scream came from a room across the hall.

Hurst ran. More screams, followed by shouting. He burst in.

Another room with beds, but this time several were occupied, and there were a number of other people
– some looked like Trannatta but some not, he saw. One woman was screaming, others were crying, huddled fearfully together. They looked harmless, but several warriors were clustered tensely round them, and Walst had his sword out.

“Stop that racket at once!” Hurst yelled, and the noise subsided a little. “If you all keep calm and don’t do anything stupid, no one will get hurt. Walst, see how many more people you can find on this floor and bring them all here. Gantor, get the warriors outside. Now
– who’s in charge here?”

There was a moment’s silence, then a middle-aged woman stepped forward. “I’m the senior healer,” she said, her voice cold. She wore white tunic and trousers of a lightweight, flowing material
caught at ankles and wrists, and a serviceable white apron over the top. She was Trannatta, like Dondro, with the same soft, full curls, honey coloured skin and narrow eyes.

“Outside, if you please,” Hurst said.

She glared at him. “Why?”

“Because I need to talk to you,” he said, with as much patience as he could muster, which was not much, “and your people will be more comfortable if there’s a door between them and the swords.”

She strolled out, head high, casting him a look of distaste as she passed by.

“The rest of you, sit down or lie down, and don’t move. I don’t want to hear any noise from in here.”

He waited while they all found somewhere to settle, which took some time, and then he followed the healer outside, shutting the door behind him.

“We need splints, amber juice and
kilicranji
leaves to start with, and clean warm water. You have these things here? Or can you get them?”

She laughed at him. “You come barging in here like animals, terrifying everyone, and now you want our help?”

“We have injured men…”

“So?”

Another commotion, this time from behind the ramp. Hurst sighed.

Walst reappeared, gleefully herding some thirty people towards them at a run. Hurst opened the door he had just shut, and they hurried through it as quickly as they could, casting terrified glances at Walst. Hurst was amused, but he had to admit that Walst in full warrior mode was a truly terrible sight.

“That was quick,” Hurst said. “Did you find any medicine?”

“No. Several more rooms like this, lots of beds, but no one there. Some kitchens, living quarters, that sort of thing. Lots of people sitting around, a couple fucking
– in the afternoon, how decadent.” But he grinned broadly. “Oh, and water rooms, hot water pools – like the place we found two days ago.”

“Good. Show Mia and Tenya where the water rooms are. Now
—” He turned back to the woman who described herself as a senior healer. “This place is clearly an infirmary of some sort, so show me where you keep the medical supplies.”

She laughed again, but her eyes flicked to one side and Hurst caught the movement.

“Ah… the locked cupboard, eh? They’re in there? So unlock it for me.”

“Never,” she said calmly, not even ruffled.

Walst reappeared with Mia and Tenya, and Dethin following behind. Walst led them on down the hallway past Hurst, but Mia stopped, seemingly drawn to the woman, staring at her in an odd way.

“Ainsley, can you find the locksmith for me?” Hurst said. “The medicines we want are behind that locked door there. You see, healer, we’ll have what we need one way or another, so you might as well just unlock the door straight away. We’ll only take what we need, we’re not savages, you know, destroying for the sake of it.”

The woman laughed again, and stood smirking insolently at him. He was reminded very much of Dondro. He supposed it was a characteristic of these people.

“We have seriously injured men,” Hurst said. “You’re a healer, surely you want to help them
; it’s your job.”

“We haven’t time for this,” Mia said, walking up to the woman and standing, fists on hips, in front of her. “We’re not asking, we’re telling. Open that door, right now!”

She looked Mia up and down disdainfully. “And who are you, warrior girl, to tell
me
what to do?”

In an instant, Mia had drawn her dagger, grabbed the woman’s tunic and shoved her hard against the wall, dagger resting under her chin.

“I’m the one with the sharp, pointy thing,” she hissed, “and I’ll slit your
fucking
throat if you don’t open that door!”

A single drop of blood ran down the woman’s neck, leaving a shockingly vivid blotch on her tunic. For a long, long moment Hurst held his breath, completely certain in his own mind that Mia
– his timid, meek little Mia – would do exactly as she threatened.

He could see that the woman thought so too. Mia released her, pushing her back against the wall and she ran
–
ran!
– across to the door, fumbling in a pocket for the key. She dropped it once in her nervousness, and gasping in dismay, with a frightened glance back at Mia, she scrambled to pick it up and push it into the lock. With a click and a twist, it opened. She pushed it wide, and jumped aside.

“Right,” said Mia, “we need amber juice, splints and
– what was the other thing?”

Hurst couldn’t remember. He was so astonished that his mind had gone blank. It was Tenya who remembered the
kilicranji
leaves. The healer scuttled round in the closet – it was huge, with shelves stretching off into the distance – and came back with an armful of things.

“Pots for the
kilicranji
,” Tenya said, taking everything from her, “and something to cut a metal helmet or pop rivets.” Off she went again, returning with two huge ceramic pots with spouts and a metal contraption.

“I think this will work. May I
– may I go now?” she said to Hurst, but with sidelong glances at Mia.

“Have you finished with her, do you think?” he said politely to Mia.

“For the moment.”

She half-ran, half-walked across to the room where her compatriots were held, perhaps trying to regain some dignity and failing. The door slammed behind her. Hurst let out a long breath.

“That was fucking awesome!” said Walst, ruffling Mia’s hair as she tucked her dagger away again. “And you half her size, too! I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.”

“But where
did
you learn such language?” Tenya said.

“I can’t imagine,” said Walst with a grin.

~~~

Hurst left Walst in charge of the hallway, and took a few men up the ramp to examine the next level. It was almost identical in layout, with more long rooms with beds off a hallway, and living quarters at the other end, but deserted. The floor above was the same, but beyond that the layout changed and Hurst turned back.

“How many floors altogether?” Trimon asked.

“Who knows? From the height of this place, twenty, thirty, maybe more. We’re not going all the way up tonight though. Two empty floors gives us a bit of space between us and whatever’s higher up. We’ll rest overnight and investigate properly tomorrow. We don’t know what we might find, so we’ll take it slowly.”

“Lots more like these ones, I imagine. Will they fight, do you think?”

Hurst considered that. “They don’t seem to be fighters themselves, but they might have guards, and we can’t leave even one of them loose.”

Trimon nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes gleamed.

By the time they came down it was full dark outside. Walst had organised visits to the water rooms, and Tenya was supervising the transfer of the injured men to one of the empty sleeping rooms.

“Put them at the far end,” Hurst said, “then the men can have the beds nearer the door. It works as a bunk room as well as an infirmary and the injured will have some protection.”

Hurst made a final check on the room where the other Trannatta were being kept. Fearful faces turned to watch his entrance.

“Everyone all right?” he said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, we don’t want your heads on pikes. Not yet, anyway.”

The healer had recovered her composure. It was clearly a struggle to be polite, but the memory of Mia’s knife was having a beneficial effect. “What about food? We all need to eat, but especially the sick.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but we might not manage anything before the morning. It’s not a priority just now.”

She frowned, hands clenched. “You are discourteous to the old and weak. Are we not entitled to your compassion?”

“No, you aren’t,” he said. “You’re prisoners now, entitled to nothing. It isn’t our intention to harm any of you, but you must co-operate, for your own safety. We’ve got armed men outside, so don’t try anything clever, all right? Everyone’s a bit jumpy and we don’t want any accidents. You’ll be fine in here until we can send you home.”

She pursed her lips, but said no more.

In the kitchens, Hurst found the abandoned preparations for the evening meal. Ainsley had rounded up a few volunteers to tend the cooking pots.

“Can we run to food for the prisoners too?” Hurst said.

“There’s enough in the stores to feed Third Section for months,” Ainsley said. “I’ll organise a couple more pots.”

It was true, even a cursory look round revealed cupboards and storage rooms filled with food
– fresh meat, fruits and vegetables, flour and grains, beans and nuts, oils, wines, spices and a whole room filled with ale, cider and wine, as well as bottles of other, stranger liquids, and shelf after shelf of bizarre dried and bottled things that Hurst had never seen before.

“We don’t have to feed all of
them
,” Walst said, grinning. “They can go hungry for a while. We’re barbarians, after all, let’s be barbaric. It worked for Mia, after all.”

“Very funny. We’re just throwing these people out so they can’t push us around, that’s all. The better we treat them, the less likely they are to drum up a rebellion against
us
later.”

The warriors ate in shifts at a big table at one end of the kitchen, and when they had eaten their fill Hurst allowed two of the prisoners to take food through to the rest. They were taken in small groups to the water rooms and then shut into their room for the night. The hallway was big enough to allow one group to stand guard over the prisoners, the bottom of the ramp and the anteroom above the tunnel without difficulty.

For the two women, Hurst chose empty rooms tucked away at the back of the living quarters.

“They would be safer in the bunk room,” Gantor said.

“Perhaps. But Tenya will have Walst to protect her, and Mia will have Dethin.”

“What about you?” Mia said.

“I’ll be there later. I want to sit with Tanist for a while.”

~~~

Tanist was lying on the bed, washed, scrubbed and wearing a clean invalid’s gown, the splinted leg resting on a pillow, Lukast watching over him. He was half asleep, but he brightened when he saw Hurst, with Gantor his shadow, as ever.

“Well, you look better,” Hurst said. “How’s the pain?”

“Barely noticeable. Amber juice is a wonderful invention. And I have my next dose ready and waiting.” He pointed to a beaker sitting on a table beside him.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Soup and bread – and thank all the Gods for decent bread again. And wine. I’m fine, stop worrying. It’s Mannigor who concerns me.”

Mannigor was stretched out on the bed opposite, his Mentors hovering nearby. A bandage covered most of his head, and a light blanket was draped over him. He lay as still as death, his face as white as his gown. On either side of him, the
kilicranji
pots gently wafted clean, health-giving air across his face. Hurst stiffened when he saw who was feeding crumbled leaves into the water above the burners.