The Plains of Kallanash (59 page)

“What’s going on now?” Walst muttered.

Hurst signalled the warriors to move to the sides of the corridor, and strode down to the front.

“Ah! There you are,” Tanist said. “Bell’s stopped for now, but apparently it came from somewhere just above the doors.”

The corridor ended in a pair of large, featureless doors, devoid of handles. Beyond them lay the lifting device which connected to the boat dock below.

“What does it mean?”

“Someone’s down below, obviously,” Tanist said, rolling his eyes. “But no one’s expected.”

“The regular delivery is usually at darkmoon, which isn’t for several days yet,” Dethin said. “Anyway, we don’t know how to work the lifting device, so we can’t let them in.”

“And they don’t know, either, obviously, or they’d be up here by now.”

“The lift can only be operated from this level,” Dethin said.

“How do you know that?” Tanist said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I asked the people who live here – the ones working in the kitchen. But they don’t know how to work it. Only Those who Serve the Gods can do that.”

“Well, we have one of those, don’t we?” Hurst said.

“Cristo?” Gantor said, and his craggy face creased into a smile. “Oh yes, I’m sure we can find ways to make him help out.”

“I approve of your attitude,” Tanist said, “but he’s been surprisingly helpful already. Let’s not lean on him unless we have to, all right? Warlord, will you take a few men and fetch him?”

“Sir. May I borrow Walst? To deter any arguments.”

Tanist laughed, and nodded. Dethin crisply named several men who peeled out of line and the group set off down the corridor at a run.

There was no keyhole, only an indentation for one of the Servants’ rings. Gantor took Dondro’s ring from Tanist, and after some fumbling, popped the doors open. Beyond them, the lift was just like a small room, although when Hurst stepped inside, it swayed a little.

“Whoa! This is weird! I suppose it’s just on some sort of pulley system? But we could get
– oh, eight, maybe ten people in here, at a pinch.”

Above his head, a thunderous clanging made him jump with shock. His hand strayed to his sword hilt by instinct, but it was only the bell ringing again.

“They’re getting impatient,” Tanist said.

Walst returned with Cristo, dressed in clean clothes and not bound or shackled in any way. He seemed subdued, but he listened solemnly to Tanist as he explained the situation. Without protest, he led them back up the corridor a way, then into a side room, and through a couple more rooms to a closed door. Again, the ring opened it, and beyond was a small cupboard. It was dark at first, but as soon as they stepped inside the walls lit up. Against the far wall was a large metal wheel with a handle, and two smaller wheels.

“Ah, that’s easy,” Gantor said, and reached for the handle. The wheel refused to turn, even when he leaned hard against it.

“The doors have to be closed,” Cristo said, shouting above the clangour of the bell. “Top and bottom. See this mark here?” He pointed to a symbol on one of the smaller wheels. “When it points up, the doors are closed. When it points down, the doors are open. The bottom doors are closed, but the top doors are open. So the elevation room cannot be moved.”

Cristo was sent back to the prisoners’ room, and after some experimentation they were satisfied they could work the lifting device. Hurst took a small group with him, for they weren’t sure of the strength of the ropes and pulleys, and they were slowly lowered down the shaft. The interior walls glowed, and Hurst was thankful for that. It was a nerve-wracking experience enough, swaying and jerking downwards, in the dark it would be truly terrifying. No one spoke, but he could hear heavy breathing around him, and his own heart was thumping. They were all more used to fighting out in the open.

He could tell when they settled on the bottom because the device no longer rocked about. After a moment’s pause, Hurst and Gantor pushed open the doors and burst out, shrieking war cries and drawing their swords.

There was no one there.

Lit by the soft glow from the lifting device walls, the dock was empty. A small boat, the type used for fishing on the lake, was tied up, and Gantor leapt aboard, tossing tarpaulins and ropes about. He returned in a moment, shaking his head. Hurst prowled up and down the dock, but there was not so much as a crevice to conceal a man.

“Where have they gone?” he muttered, emitting puffs of freezing air. His skin felt taut with cold. A few flakes of snow fell silently, although the dock was clear.

Hurst made his way to the furthest end of the dock, and peered out across the lake, but the water was still. Far away on the shore, tiny lights shone, making the surface sparkle, but no boat disrupted the smoothness.

“There’s no sign of anyone in the water,” he said.

Then he turned and saw the doors, a dark square almost invisible against the night-black walls of the tower.

“They’ve gone inside,” he said with conviction. “They’re in the tunnels.”

Cautiously they pushed open the outer doors, crossed the ante-chamber and silently eased a chink in the further doors. There was distant shouting inside the Hall of Light
– Dethin’s voice, Hurst thought, bewildered. How had he got there? Then another voice, barely audible. No sounds of fighting, though.

He nodded a signal to Gantor. A moment’s pause for breath, then they shoved the doors wide apart and boiled down the steps into the hall.

Some distance away across the mosaic floor was a large group of warriors – no, Skirmishers, Hurst realised. A Ten, or perhaps more, fully mailed and armed, but none had drawn a weapon. In the middle of the group, two of them supported a man swathed in blankets, drooping and injured, or perhaps sick. Beyond them were five men with weapons drawn, Dethin in the centre.

“Surrender or die!” Hurst cried, racing across the floor.

The Skirmishers turned towards him, and now he could see that their hands were raised in submission. As he slowed and his men took up position in a half circle, he read the insignia on their uniforms. He heard Gantor’s cluck of surprise beside him, and he himself lowered his sword a little, astonished.

“Hilligor? By the Gods, what are
you
doing here?”

“Commander? I’m sorry to alarm you, but we had no way to communicate with you. And we had to do something.”

He drew aside with slight wave of one hand, so that Hurst could see the sick man clearly. Where the blankets parted, a torn shirt was visible, stained with dark patches, perhaps blood. The man’s face was as pale as death beneath unkempt hair and the scruffy beginnings of a beard. His eyes were closed, but he was conscious, muttering under his breath, his head lifting and then lolling to one side or backwards. One leg twitched spasmodically.

And Hurst recognised his new co-husband.

“Bernast?” he whispered. “Oh, by all the Gods…”

~~~

When Bernast had been carried to the infirmary and the healers had shooed everyone away, Hilligor told them everything that had happened since they had parted on the plains outside Third Section. Bernast had gone home, taking his own Skirmishers with him, and Hilligor had gone straight to his co-husbands at his Karning and explained it all.

“It could hardly be kept from them,” he shrugged, “especially since Mannigor had taken up with you, and frankly, I felt out of my depth. I wanted their advice. Cassinor has been on the border longer than anyone else, he’s as wily as a fallan dog and I knew I could trust him. They were all shocked, of course. The older ones in particular… So many barbarians they’ve killed over the years, and were proud to do it. It was an honour to defend the Karningplain from the uncivilised hordes beyond the walls. And now…”

“Did they believe what you told them?” Tanist asked quietly.

“Oh yes. When they thought about it, it explained all the oddities, the things we weren’t allowed to do, because the war had to be maintained.”

Cassinor and one of his brothers were too infirm to make the annual journey to the Ring, and therefore had no fear of an interview with the Voices, so they read all the messages Tanist sent through Hilligor to kin and friends he hoped would sympathise. As a result, they made certain preparations, sending Skirmishers to the barrens for training, just in case, and warning Hilligor to take his battle sword to the Ring with him. It was forbidden, of course, but every Skirmisher packs his own gear for the tournament, and it was easy enough to tuck it away at the bottom of the box.

Once at the Ring, it was possible to meet Bernast at the tournament arena, and discuss tactics. Bernast had been worried about his interviews, but the first one had gone well. They had asked about Mia, of course, but they hardly mentioned Hurst, and Bernast’s trip to the border didn’t come up at all. Even if they had known about that, it was just an invasion exercise, a perfectly legitimate Skirmisher affair, not a matter to concern the Voices.

“They must have been suspicious about Hurst,” Tanist said. “He’d been gone for months, by then.”

“Well, all they asked was simple stuff,” Hilligor shrugged. “Did he tell Bernast where he was going before he left, had he sent any messages to him, that sort of thing. No mention of tunnels. They were more concerned about how Bernast felt about it
– was he worried about him. Which he was, of course.”

But by the second round of interviews, the Voices were clearly better informed. They asked Bernast and his Companions outright about Hurst and his trip to the border, and Bernast
– open, honest Bernast – had told them everything he knew. Hurst’s stomach clenched in fear – they were too late! They had lost the element of surprise, and now it would be much, much more difficult to achieve a quick result.

“That wasn’t much, though, was it?” Tanist said calmly. “He took care not to know what we planned. Well, we didn’t know ourselves, then.”

“No, but he knew that you and Hurst were out on the plains with the barbarians,” Hilligor said. “He knew you were planning
something
and he’d talked to me. So my name came to their notice as well, and although I’d tried to keep out of Cassinor’s scheming, I knew I couldn’t risk an interview. But Bernast—” He stopped, distressed, and they sat uncomfortably and waited for him to continue. “Three days later,” he went on, taking a long breath, “they came for him. Twenty Justices and a lot more guards, who took him to the House of Revelations, and his Companions could get no word of him, so they came straight to me. The same day we saw your signal – the red flag at the top of the tower – so we knew we would be safe here. We went in and got him out, and…” He stopped again, his face effused with emotion. “As soon as this is settled,” he said with sudden fierceness, “we’ll go back and get the rest of them out of there. By the Gods, you cannot imagine—!”

“How many?” That was Tanist, his voice like ice.

“Hundreds. I don’t know, we didn’t go any further into that evil Vortex than we needed to. Bernast – the Gods know what they’ve done to him, but others we saw were worse.”

“We’ll get them out. But how did you find him amongst so many?”

“We waved swords at the guards. It’s amazing how helpful people can be when there’s a blade at their throat.”

There was a rumble of approval. The time for caution was long past. Hurst was reminded of Mia, pinning the healer against the wall, dagger out.

“Why bring him here?” Gantor said. “Why not the main infirmary?”

“It’s infested with Slave healers,” Hilligor said at once. “Couldn’t take the risk. But I’m relieved you have proper healers here. I thought we might have to kidnap one.”

“And how did you get the boat? Or know how to ring the bell?” Tanist asked. “We didn’t know that ourselves.”

“Ah. We had
– help.” Hilligor waved a hand to indicate one of his men, standing behind him, still helmed. After a momentary hesitation, the Skirmisher swept off the helmet. A woman, head shaved.

“A Slave!” Tanist said, astonished. Then, suspiciously, “And you trust her?”

“With my life!” Hilligor said, with a lift of his chin. “I’ve known her for years now, as a Karninghold Slave and more recently as a Voice. She dislikes the way things are as much as we do, I assure you.”

Tanist turned to her and regarded her steadily. She met his gaze without flinching.

“Are you with us or against us, Most Humble? For there can be no wavering here.”

“I am with you,” she said calmly, her voice low. “I have left my old life behind just as much as you have. I cannot go back.”

“Will you tell us how things work? Who’s in charge? That’s what we can’t find out.”

“I will tell you everything I know.”

Tanist grunted, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eye. “Well, that will certainly be useful.” He glanced at Mia, and she nodded slightly.

Hurst shifted uneasily. He could see no guile in her, it was true, and Mia seemed satisfied, but still… she was a Slave. He was not sure he could ever trust one again.

~~~

The next day, Hilligor and Klemmast went back and forth through the tunnel gathering what Skirmishers they could without attracting any attention, and bringing them back to the tower. By evening, Tanist had more than a hundred men, fit and armed, at his disposal, more than enough to make a show of strength at the assembly, while maintaining the watch at the tower.