The Right Hand of God (25 page)

Further banging came from behind the Iron Door as, undeterred, the mob continued to call for the Council of Faltha to be given up to them. 'Talk to them,' Kurr growled in his old adversary's ear. 'Tell them to go home!'

The Presiding Elder replied by spitting in the old farmer's face.

Leith waited for the explosion, but it didn't come. Instead, Kurr calmly took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face clean, then guided the Presiding Elder to a stone bench.

'Sit down, old friend,' he said in an eerie calm on the far side of anger. 'We have things to do.

Later we will talk, you and I.' He signalled a couple of servants to watch over the slump-shouldered figure.

'In the meantime,' he said, 'we must escape this place. We

might be able to outwait the mob, but we have things to do, and we must do them swiftly.

'We seek suggestions,' he said more loudly, 'as to how we might leave this building undetected by those waiting outside.'

'Who are you?' asked one of the servants, not unreasonably, Leith thought.

'We are your new leaders,' Kurr replied brusquely. 'Leith, hold up the Jugom Ark. Surely you recognise this? We are the guardians of the Arrow, which arrived in our midst at just the right time. The Council of Faltha are turning control of the city of Instruere over to us for the time being. And now, before we do anything else, we will make the transfer of power official.

Plonya? Leith!' And with that he called them all over to him and, under the light of the Jugom Ark, with the sound of the mob outside the door and with the Presiding Elder a reluctant witness, the remnants of the Council of Faltha surrendered their authority to the Company.

Minutes later an elderly servant approached Kurr and knelt before him. 'If it please you, my lord, I have a thought to offer. There is a door on the south side of the hall which leads—'

'Don't they have the building surrounded?' Plonya said irritably. 'Why is this man wasting our time?'

'1 asked for ideas, and I will hear this man!' Kurr snapped. 'Learn to live without power!' The Arkhos of Plonya stepped back a pace, surprise on his face, then nodded shortly.

'The door is very close to The Pinion, lord,' the old man continued. 'No more than fifty paces.

It may be that a swift runner could cross that space before those outside reacted to the attempt.'

'Then what?' Kurr asked him, not unkindly. 'How does that help us?'

'My lord, I am the one entrusted with notifying The Pinion of the changing of the guard, which I have done for fifty years, and my father did so for just as long before me. I have the key to a small side door which is used to gain access to the belltower.'

'The belltower?'

'Yes, lord. The bell rings out twice to signify the change. Surely you have heard it? Unless you live too far away to hear, of course. But there is also a peal known only to a few, which is used to summon the Guard in times of danger. That peal could be rung, and the Guard would rally to your command.'

'To his? Or to the Council of Faltha? Is there any authority here they would recognise?' The Arkhos of Plonya stood, his legs wide apart, arms folded, a broad smile on his face. 'Our ceremony was perhaps a little premature. The old Council is still needed.'

Kurr ignored the man. 'So you tell us we might be able to send one or two through this door and summon the Guard to disperse the crowd?'

'Yes, my lord,' the old man nodded, pleased.

'Who will go? Our brave friend, the Arkhos of Plonya, will obviously be one of those to try, as he points out. Maendraga, an illusion would serve us well here. They don't expect to see people come out of this door: can you make sure they see what they expect? We would also benefit from someone who can use a sword, but we seem to have left them back at the pavilion or sent them home to their kings.'

'Not all of them,' said Graig boldly. '1 will go, and keep the magician and the Arkhos safe.'

Kurr nodded. 'Very well, then. The three of you will bring help.'

All the way to the hidden door the Arkhos of Plonya whined and pleaded to be spared this honour, but no one would listen to him. The elderly servant produced a key, then bowed and withdrew, leaving the three of them to oil, then unbolt the door. Graig eased the door open a fraction: outside, a small knot of ordinary-looking people stood talking to each other, no doubt discussing what might be happening inside the hall.

'Go with the guidance of the Most High,' Kurr breathed, patting the young Nemohaimian on the shoulder. He swung the door wide open, and pulled it shut after them.

The Pinion bells rang out over the great City, three peals for an alarm. The Captain of the Guard jerked his head up at the sound, one he thought never to hear. The Arkhos of Nemohaim sat on a narrow chair, his huge bulk hanging off the seat on both sides, his arms tied behind him to the chair's tall back. His face was raised, jaw thrust forward, and set with a stern look: he had been trying to persuade his former liegeman to let him go. But with the sound of the bells his arguments were forgotten. The Captain of the Guard brusquely checked the Arkhos's bonds, then hurried from the small room, leaving Nemohaim in the care of two guards. A moment later he emerged from Nemohaim's prison, a nondescript tenement a local family had loaned to the Company for the purpose, a few hundred strides from the pavilion.

He ran swiftly to the Struere Gate and his guardsmen.

'Attention! Form up ranks!' he barked. Soldiers scattered right and left, rushing to lay hands on swords and shields, regretting their heavy armour was stored in The Pinion; but, within minutes, the Captain of the Guard had over a thousand fighting men ready to do his will.

The flurry of activity had not gone unobserved by those of the Company who remained near the pavilion. Mahnum woke the Haufuth, who had indulged in an all-too-rare early afternoon nap. Together they left the pavilion and went in search of the Captain of the Guard, but could find neither him nor the Arkhos of Nemohaim in the small back room being used as a cell.

'The captain must've taken Nemohaim with him,' the Haufuth commented, still rubbing sleep from his eyes; being woken before his time always left him with a headache, but he supposed he could see the sense in Mahnum alerting him to this, whatever it was. 'Sensible,' the Trader muttered. 'Just wish he'd told us. I'm not sure I trust that man with the Arkhos.'

They met up with Indrett and the Escaignian woman back at the pavilion. The two women were dispensing the last of the food and drink donated by various benefactors on the day the Granaries burned: some had already been thrown out, as it had spoiled. There seemed a never-ending supply of people in need - though, as Mahnum wryly pointed out, a large proportion of them would have lined up even if there had been no fire. Old Struere had not done well recently under the Council's hand.

'Did you hear the bells?' the Haufuth wanted to know.

'We thought they were telling midday,' said Indrett.

'Perhaps. But the Captain of the Guard has lined up the Instruian Guard. It may be something more serious. I've never heard the bells toll at noon like that, have you?' The big man turned to Mahnum, who shook his head.

The three Firanese and one Instruian made their way to the Struere Gate, which still lay unattended and in ruins.

Ranks of the Instruian Guard filled the large open space in front of the gate. The captain shouted orders to his guardsmen, preparing them to march.

'What was the bell?' Mahnum asked, a little more harshly than he intended.

The alarm,' the captain replied tersely.

'What does it mean?'

'A general emergency. It means the Council of Faltha is threatened in some way. When the bell peals three times, make your way to The Pinion and await orders.' He sounded as though he quoted from some service manual.

'But - there is no Council of Faltha. What if it's some ruse?'

'By whom?' the Haufuth asked Mahnum. 'Deorc is gone, the Council has surrendered and the Arkhos of Nemohaim is here under the control of the Captain of the Guard.'

The captain turned on his heels to face the big man. 'No, not here - the Arkhos remains in his cell, guarded by two of my most trusted men.'

The Trader shook his head slowly, his mouth open. 'No, no. The Arkhos, he is not there.'

'He has escaped, then.' The Captain of the Guard spoke in a flat voice.

Mahnum and Indrett both sighed deeply. 'It seems so. Instruere is in trouble.'

'Nonetheless, the law requires the Instruian Guard to gather at The Pinion when the alarm bell rings. If we delay, it is as though we have disobeyed the law. We must restore the confidence of the Guard, not undermine it further. Do I have your permission to obey the summons?'

'Yes, but we will come with you,' Mahnum said, speaking for them all.

* * *

The delay was no more than fifteen minutes, but it proved costly. By the time the Captain of the Guard marched his men up the Vitulian Way to The Pinion, the Arkhos of Nemohaim had ordered everything as he desired, short of having more soldiers. He could not have wished for a better circumstance than the alarm bell, following so soon after discovering his mortal enemy had been destroyed. He knew what the alarm meant, was quick to grasp the opportunity it afforded. While the Captain of the Guard had a strong, disciplined mind and was not open to his word tricks, the two guardsmen were another matter. After the captain left, it had been the work of moments to gain control of one man's mind and get him to cut the throat of the other, then dump the body in a sewer. Five minutes later the Arkhos was free and laughing at the foolishness of adversaries who never considered the long view. Patience, he told himself, is the only virtue worth cultivating.

The Arkhos of Nemohaim could move very quickly when he chose. He'd proved it to the peasant fools when he climbed the scree slope and managed the rope across the waterfall.

They'd not expected that! They wouldn't expect him to run to The Pinion either, but he did.

He had been an athlete in his younger days and, though now dissolute, could draw on hidden reserves when required, as long as he was prepared to pay the price later.

'Ho, the Guard!' he cried in his loudest voice when he strode up to The Pinion, hardly out of breath. Five hundred elite guardsmen thundered: 'Ho, the Arkhos!' in reply. Five hundred throats crying his praise, when he thought never to hear it again. It brought a tear to his eye.

'The Council has been betrayed!' he cried. 'Deorc the infiltrator is dead, and a few fearful Council members have

surrendered the keys to the Four Halls to a handful of northern peasants. This must not be allowed!'

'But what of the Jugom Ark?' came a voice from the rear of the serried ranks.

'Coat an arrow with pitch, set fire to it and you have an instant heirloom,' the Arkhos snapped.

It didn't matter so much what he said, he'd learned many years ago, but rather how he said it.

Soldiers looked for confidence in their leaders.

'How could you hold such an arrow without getting burned?' the same voice asked.

'That is your last anonymous question!' There was so little time; he could not afford to waste it in pointless debate, but this did give him a chance to re-establish his rulership. 'If we knew how it was done, we could expose it as a fraud. If it was widely known, we would have a hundred Jugom Arks discovered every year. Now! The alarm has sounded, and we have a City to defend. Are you with me?' The response was deafening.

Leith called to Kurr and the others in a voice filled with urgency. They had been inspecting the pile of swords, sorting out the best of them for use. Me, a swordmaster, Leith laughed at himself. His own sword sat snugly on his hip as though it belonged, reminding him of their adventures and the men he had killed; the nameless Windrisian and the Bhrudwan Lord of Fear. Then a different kind of noise from outside attracted his attention. He went to the window and his eye was immediately drawn to the obese, eminently recognisable figure standing in front of The Pinion, barking orders to ranks of guardsmen. Leith gasped with shock.

'Where are the others?' he asked urgently. 'Why is the Arkhos on his own?'

Kurr ground his teeth in frustration and pointed to the right, where another force could be seen marching up the Vitulian Way. 'Because he has escaped, somehow. Look! The Captain of the Guard comes, leading those of the Guard who surrendered to us. What has happened? Why has the Arkhos of Plonya not taken control of the guardsmen? There may have been some double-dealing here.'

'I don't see how,' Leith replied. 'Graig wouldn't allow it.'

The old farmer laughed shortly. 'Neither he would, boy; neither he would. Worships the ground you walk on, that one.'

'I don't want to be worshipped by anyone,' Leith growled. He only had a moment to wonder: did Graig hear Leith's voice in his head?

With the arrival of the Captain of the Guard the situation became irretrievably confused. Leith and the others were pinned in the Hall of Meeting, surrounded by Escaigne and the Ecclesia, the former of whom were still in the throes of finding out they were leaderless. These two groups, numbering perhaps three thousand in total, were in turn surrounded by the Instruian Guard, less than half their number and together for the first time since the Battle of the Hall of Lore. Yet not together, as the Arkhos of Nemohaim began to issue instructions to the five hundred soldiers under his control, commanding them to engage with their fellows. Fighting began to erupt on a front about fifty paces wide, guard against reluctant guard.

The Captain of the Guard, however, sent orders to his men to disengage, forming them instead into a narrow wedge and throwing them against those of Escaigne and Ecclesia between his force and the Hall of Meeting. A few moments' furious thought had led to only one conclusion: his task must be to take possession of the hall. The guardsmen who issued from The Pinion had obviously not caused the alarm to be sounded. Instead, they had responded to the alarm, and had been suborned by the opportunistic Arkhos of Nemohaim.

Therefore the alarm must have been sounded in response to the threat posed by those surrounding the Hall of Meeting, where the former Council had gone with the northerners.