The Right Hand of God (21 page)

There were aurochs in the van, dozens of them, none so mighty as Wisent, but great beasts nonetheless, shaggy hair gleaming in the silver light. Other warriors were mounted on tall warhorses. The vast bulk of the army travelled on foot, rank after rank spread out on the silver grass at either side of the paved road, each man carrying a torch in his hand, a sword at his hip, a staff on his back, a quiver on his shoulder. At the head of this impossible army walked a small, squat figure, one which, as it drew close to the astonished Farr, gave him a shout.

Laughter followed the shout, and three other small figures emerged from the front ranks of the army and ran towards him.

Farr thought his heart would burst with joy as the four men surrounded him, crying his name aloud, slapping him on the back, miming the carrying of fur bales or the shooting of rapids, and laughing, always laughing. Tears flowed from his eyes at their greeting; unashamedly he wept, and a shadow left him on the Westway that night, never to return, as he laughed with the Fodhram.

The thing on the stone floor could not possibly still be alive, but it was. Stella begged for the punishment to stop, for that which once had been a man, however evil, to be granted release; but the grunting and twitching continued unabated. Thus Stella learned there are limits even to revenge.

'I trust this is instructive,' said the voice. 'You would do well to remember this for the rest of your life. This is what happens to those who think they can keep things from me. This traitor will not die. He will be collected and taken to the fortress he once ruled, where he will be imprisoned in the deepest dungeon, among the instruments he knows so well. Some of those who served him in the past will be delighted to meet him again in such circumstances. Do not be mistaken: worse than this will happen to you should you ever think to deceive me.'

Oh, but I have, she said silently, in that secret place of defiance. I have.

The evening of the day of the Battle of Struere Gate began with a dull sunset, red rays peeping from under a blanket of cloud, momentarily bathing the grey city walls in a sombre light before fading quickly into darkness. The sun's last rays lingered a moment longer on the Tower of Worship, the tallest of the City's buildings. Built by the First Men in remembrance of Dona Mihst, as were all the Four Halls of Instruere, the slender tower rose plain and unadorned from the squat Hall of Worship. High up in the tower, in a room with windows facing to the four points of the compass, nine men watched the sun slip behind the Veridian Borders far to the south-west.

The Arkhos of Deruys turned to his fellow Councillors. 'So ends a day of dread,' he said to them. 'If you follow my advice, so also ends the Council of Faltha.'

Haurn the Craven added hesitantly: 'Deorc is gone, the Arkhos of Nemohaim is gone, half the Instruian Guard is gone, and we are left to face the wrath of the City. I don't want to be executed just to appease the anger of the masses!' He made no attempt to hide the fear in his voice.

'Haurn the Craven indeed!' cried the Arkhos of Treika from beside the eastern window, from which the spreading darkness reached into the room. 'We may yet hold the City! Or if not, at least the parts that matter!'

'We have hundreds of loyal guardsmen ready to do our

bidding,' added the Arkhos of Straux. 'We do not need recent arrivals from insignificant kingdoms' - he cast a glance towards the Arkhos of Deruys - 'to tell us how to order our affairs. If no one else has the courage to stand by the Grand Alliance we have made, then we three remaining of the original signatories to that alliance will be happy to arrange its defence.' He indicated Treika and Tabul, who made their way in silence and stood either side of him.

'Ah, the positioning,' murmured the Arkhos of Deuverre to his friend the Arkhos of Plonya, in a voice unwisely, or perhaps purposely, loud. 'And in the unfortunate absence of Deorc, the Arkhos of Straux would be happy to lead us in that defence.'

'If not I, then another of those who first sought the favour of the Lord of Bhrudwo, and under no circumstances one who is but recently bought!' A fatal anger, fuelled by fear and masked by a veneer of politeness, threatened for a moment to overtake them all. Deuverre flushed and lowered his head, muttering an insincere apology and defusing the moment. Though by agreement there were no swords here in this room, no weapons of any kind, it was foolishness to make enemies. A word from one of the others and he might not make it out of the Hall of Worship alive.

Deruys seemed to have no such concerns. 'So your counsel is to stay and make a fight of it. I do not agree. It is time to put aside alliances foolishly made and accommodate the present realities. There is no merit in entrusting ourselves to one who is blinded by loyalty to a cause that is lost. In fact,' he continued as the Arkhos of Straux took a step forward towards him,

'such a person, rather than being promoted, may need to be removed from the office he currently holds.'

'So, that's how it stands, is it?' Straux growled. His hand flashed under his tunic and emerged holding a thin-bladed

knife. 'Then, in the name of the Undying One, you should die!' Joined by the Arkhoi of Tabul and Treika, he advanced confidently on the weaponless Deruys.

Only to discover he was not weaponless, and neither were the two other Arkhoi who moved quickly to support him. Short swords and knives were drawn from secret places and held at the ready. 'Betrayed!' the Arkhos of Straux snarled. 'You have planned this in secret!'

'As you have,' Deruys laughed. 'The problem for you is you have fewer supporters for your plan.' He moved to the door, rapped on it with the hilt of his throwing blade and was answered by a servant, head deferentially lowered. 'The chains?' Deruys asked him.

'They are being fetched, my lord,' came the answer. 'Forgive our tardiness, lord; we had some difficulty on the stairs with servants of the Arkhoi over there.' He pointed to the three crestfallen figures in front of the south window. 'Two of your servants are dead, I am sorry to report, as are all of theirs.'

The chains arrived some minutes later. The Arkhoi of Straux, Treika and Tabul were disarmed briskly and, in spite of repeated protests, were chained to hooks set in the walls as though there expressly for the purpose.

The Arkhos of Deruys moved over to where Straux hung, feet not quite touching the floor.

Already the strain was beginning to show on the captive's face. 'From here you can see much of Instruere,' Deruys said to him conversationally. 'Perhaps the view might help you consider how you might better have looked after these people's interests.' Then he added, in a voice so low that only Straux could hear: 'Did you never wonder at my easy adoption of your traitorous cause? My king would never have sent anyone who might have been corrupted by the likes of you.'

'But - I saw you in The Pinion. I watched what you did! Do the others know of this perfidy?'

'Of course the others do not know, and would not believe you if you told them. As for The Pinion, 1 paid the price my king decided 1 had to pay. 1 have nightmares about it every night.

Do you?' And with that he turned his back on the man in chains.

Before closing and locking the door to the Room of Four Windows in the Tower bf Worship, he put his head back through the opening. '1 will have no nightmares over your fate,' he said quietly.

In the same hour the servants of the remaining Councillors were fighting and dying on the stairs to the Tower, members of the Instruian Guard now under the control of the Company were being addressed by their former captain. Disarmed, dishonoured, surrounded by merchants and labourers, peasants and city-dwellers, men, women and children armed with makeshift weapons - and now also equipped with their own - they listened with downcast hearts as they were told what lay behind their ignominy.

The Captain of the Guard was a persuasive man. The Arkhos of Nemohaim owed much of his former power in this city to the love these soldiers held for their tall, raven-haired captain.

Firm but fair, this quiet, practical man always placed himself at the forefront of any task he asked his guardsmen to perform. He had joined the Guard as an under-age recruit, escaping from the sewer-gangs of the old city of Struere. Working his way through the ranks, the handsome soldier gained himself a following. A series of wise commanders recognised his usefulness by setting him the most difficult tasks, which he had completed unquestioningly.

So it was

that the Arkhos of Nemohaim found him, promoting him over a number of those commanders to be the youngest Captain of the Guard ever known. Loyal to a fault, the captain came to realise what his master really was, but could not oppose him without undoing his soldier's code, and thereby his own meaning, his personal centre of balance.

This he explained to his men. He told them about his journey south with the Arkhos. He emphasised his respect for the youth from the north, the Bearer of the Arrow; described how he'd seen the boy stretch out his arm and summon the River Aleinus to refill its banks, destroying his pursuers. He told them of the coming of the Jugom Ark, the Arrow which they had seen for themselves, and shared his version of events as they had unfolded in the Joram Basin, a story none of them had heard.

Then he told them of the Destroyer, and of the bitter betrayal planned by the Council of Faltha. The murmuring and muttering among the men increased in volume as he described how the Council had promised to open the gates of Instruere to the Destroyer's hordes. Not only did they understand that they, as soldiers, would have been the first victims of this betrayal, but they also despised this lack of loyalty. Soldiers such as they recognised the value of oath-keeping.

Now their captain's words were accompanied by angry shouts, which only grew louder when they were told the people they attacked in front of the Hall of Lore three nights ago were not Escaigne, as they had been told, but instead were merely untrained citizens. Among the Instruian Guard, commissioned to protect the Great City, the news that they were tricked into killing their own citizens came as a shock to many.

The Captain of the Guard seized on the moment. 'The

Council of Faltha is corrupt. Their actions render void the oaths we swore to them,' he said bluntly. 'But our oath to uphold order in the City still holds. I propose that we pledge allegiance to the Jugom Ark, and to the man who bears it. Choose swiftly! Look, the sun sets!'

He pointed to the northeast, where the upper part of the tower glowed a dull red above the roofs of the city. 'By the time the last ray of sun leaves the Tower of Worship, I expect you so to swear. You will do this by coming forward and standing in this open space in front of me.

There you will be reissued with your weapons and await your command. Those who choose not to swear will be held prisoner until such time as the threat to the City has ended. There are but a few moments left. Choose!'

In less than a minute only a few dozen guardsmen remained seated in front of the Struere Gate. A number of these men tried to come forward but were prevented by their fellows, who suspected them of being too deeply entwined with the old Council. Others were not willing to forsake their hope of reward, and placed their faith in being rescued by the bulk of the Instruian Guard, who must even now be preparing to attack this renegade Company. The very tip of the Tower of Worship flickered, then the sun withdrew its finger and shadow came to claim it.

The Haufuth turned and shook the hand of the Captain of the Guard. 'Thank you,' he said with feeling. 'Your words may have saved hundreds of lives.'

'Thousands will be spent before this is done,' the man responded gruffly. 'Yet that is as it should be. We will not stand for the betrayal and slaughter of our people.' He turned on his heel and directed a level gaze at the huge figure of the Arkhos of Nemohaim, then deliberately spat on the ground and walked away to speak to his soldiers.

'Eloquent,' Kurr said approvingly, 'especially the last part. He raises an excellent question with his gesture. What shall we do with the Arkhos of Nemohaim?'

The question remained unanswered as Kurr and the Haufuth stepped into the pavilion to report to Leith, who had just awoken from a much-needed sleep. Three fraught days had taken their toll; in truth Leith had experienced about enough decision-making to last him a while.

He felt anew the wonder, the continued awkwardness of the situation, as the man who had been his village headman - who still was, technically -and the farmer from whom he had drawn back in fear a few short months ago brought him a respectful report of what had taken place outside.

'Ensure they are fed,' he said to them, and they nodded. 'We should have some stores remaining. Encourage those of the crowd who remain to bring enough for one soldier when they return tomorrow.'

Sage words, he thought, but they were not his. Hal spent a few moments talking to him earlier this afternoon: he had anticipated the defection of the Guard to the Company.

'Bring the Arkhos of Nemohaim to me,' Leith added, as a thought occurred to him. Hal was not the only one who could come up with clever ideas.

'Is that wise?' the Haufuth said, eyebrows raised. 'At least he will require a guard.'

'No guard. I have a defence he will not challenge, not while he has a deep scar on his right hand to remind him.'

'But—'

'No guard.' His voice was edged with a finality that even the old farmer chose not to argue with.

Some time later the Arkhos of Nemohaim entered the

pavilion and sat on a wide, low bench which groaned under him. 'You've decided to be rid of me, haven't you,' he said flatly, before Leith could offer a word. The youth from Loulea could not miss the deep, dark hunger in the man's eyes, as though Leith's confirmation would be the best news in the world.

'I have not,' Leith answered him. 'You will decide that.'

'How so?' The eyes deepened, if that was possible.

Leith laid the Jugom Ark on the table between them. Quiescent since the battle with the blue fire, the Arrow nevertheless began to char the wooden surface of the table.