The Silent Army (15 page)

People moved as if they were traveling through a heavy fog. It seemed to calm them.

Glo’Hosht’s voice called out to her, softly warning her that he was present. While it was unlikely that any strike she made toward her king would hit, he was wise enough to warn her just the same.

“My king.”

Even through the cloud cover she could now see the smoke rising from Arlo’s apartment. Soon others would sound an alarm.

“Swech, Jost is captured.”

She nodded. “How?”

“The wall that surrounds the city. She touched it while she was serving the gods. The stone guardians captured her and held her until the Fellein guards took her.”

“Do we go to help Jost?”

“No. She must take care of her own. As all of us must if we are caught.” Swech felt her hands try to tighten into fists and made them relax. The gods had plans. Jost was not currently on them.

Swech nodded her head in compliance, much as it hurt her. There were no promises. The Daxar Taalor made demands and they were obeyed. They had saved members of the Sa’ba Taalor before, when it suited them. But not this occasion. Jost’s fate was her own to decide. If she could not, the gods would handle the matter.

The thought that they might not save the girl was painful, but life was pain.

Swech nodded a second time and took a deep breath.

“What is next, my king?”

“These stone men change everything. They only seem to stand at the outer wall.”

Glo’Hosht moved and spoke at the same time, gliding over the ground and heading to the next building. Swech followed and looked back at the black column of smoke that had spread in size.

“We could continue what we have been doing, my king. It has certainly unsettled a few of the people and made others desperate. But there are other things we could accomplish.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Swech looked back again as flames began to dance across the roof of the building she’d been inside. Smoke pirouetted across the roof and beneath it tongues of light tasted the air and seemed to like the flavor.

The building was going to burn down. There would be no saving it. Most of Canhoon was stone, but there were exceptions.

“Perhaps we consider more of that.”

Glo’Hosht looked on and nodded. “Perhaps.”

“What I’m thinking of involves at least three of us entering the palace.”

“For you that is an easy thing. You have the face of a Fellein.”

“There are others. I know that we have been kept apart to avoid issues, but if we wish to strike hard this is something we should consider.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Most of the food supplies, much of the clean water, is stored in the palace.” Swech stared at her king. “They might find more food, but water is rare here. They depended on their rivers.”

There was a very long silence and finally Glo’Hosht answered, “The gods agree. I will be joining you.”

“You, my king? Did you not say that would be a challenge?”

“A challenge for many. A challenge for me, but not so great a risk that Paedle does not decree it.”

There was no more to say. When gods make demands, they must be obeyed.

Behind them the roof of the apartment building collapsed and flames roared higher into the air.

Bells sounded. Horns sounded.

“They will come to put out the fires, my king.”

Glo’Hosht nodded. “Let’s kill as many as we can when they do, but do not be careless.”

Swech took no offense at the words. They were often uttered by the King in Mercury, who liked to remind the followers of Paedle that not being seen was their greatest gift.

Besides, Jost had already reminded them of the consequences of growing careless.

Nachia sat on her throne and ignored the pain it caused her to do so. Perhaps Desh was right. The discomfort was a good way to make certain she did not grow arrogant. Or maybe she just enjoyed being reminded of her responsibilities.

Darsken Murdro looked at her and frowned. “She does not speak, Majesty. Her gods have forbidden it.”

“Have you tried torture?” She hated the words as she said them.

“No, Majesty. She is not the sort to respond to that method of inquisition. She and her people celebrate the scars they earn as a mark of honor and proof of all they would willingly suffer for their gods.”

Merros, who was next to him, nodded. “You were not there when Drask Silver Hand let Andover Lashk bite into his arm until he bled. He never even flinched and I assure you I would have been screaming my idiot head off.”

“Then what do you suggest, Inquisitor?”

He lowered his head. “I can discover much, Majesty. I can walk through her mind and learn, but I am not aware of what will happen if she tries to speak to her gods.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Both Desh Krohan and the general have told me that the Sa’ba Taalor actually communicate with their gods. That either the gods actually speak into their minds, or that they believe they can. If I am in her mind when this happens, I do not know if the god will see me.”

“And if a god sees you, what is supposed to happen?” She resisted the urge to shake her head. It would not do to insult her closest companions.

“I do not know, Majesty. What are the limits of a god? We have seen that their gods allow them to survive great heat. We have seen that their gods gift them with limbs of living metal. If their gods could walk into my mind as I would walk into hers, then what secrets might a god learn? I hold many secrets for the Empire, Majesty.”

She chewed at her lower lip and then forced herself to stop. One must always look calm.

“A notable point, Darsken. What would you suggest?”

“The Sisters, Tataya and Pella, they are capable of seeing into my mind if I let them. They could, perhaps, kill me before the god could glean much information.”

Merros was standing to the side of the Inquisitor when he spoke and she could see the general reassessing his opinion of the man. She knew him well enough to read his face: he didn’t like the Inquisitor or any of his kind
.
Not many did.

“Have Pella come to me. I would speak with her about this.”

Darsken bowed formally and nodded before he left the room. She had told them they did not need to bow in the circumstances they faced, but most did it anyway.

She waited a full minute in silence and then looked at Merros. “You don’t like him.”

“No, Majesty.”

“Why is that?”

“He and his use fear as a weapon. That I find acceptable. That they use it as their primary weapon is irksome to me.”

“Irksome?” She teased with her voice and he grinned.

“I deem the Inquisitors a necessary evil. I do not like them. They have a level of power that makes them dangerous.”

“Said the man in charge of the Imperial forces?”

“I have more people looking over my actions.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I leave here, you and a few others know where I sleep.”

She raised an eyebrow at that.

“Are you going to deny it?”

“No. It’s important that you are kept safe.”

“If an Inquisitor tells you that something is true, what do you do about it?”

“I act on it.”

“And how do you know that he tells the truth?”

“I have the assurances of the Inquisitors.”

“And are they investigated by you?”

“No.”

“None of them?”

“No.”

Merros’s face worked as he considered that answer. “Why not?”

“Because the vows of the Inquisitors are very complex and backed by sorcery. Should they attempt to lie in their investigations, there would be consequences.”

“What sort of consequences?”

“Horrible disfigurement at the very least.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Desh Krohan is the one who set up their vows. He attends all of them. Each and every member of the Inquisition is marked by Desh. They cannot lie in their duties without being disfigured or worse.”

“And how do you know this sorcery works?”

“Have you ever been to the offices of the Inquisition?”

“No, Majesty.”

“Should you ever have the need to go to those offices, you will find that the people who work as clerks in the offices are all rather heavily disfigured. In the event that they survive the process of lying, they are given a second chance to work for the Inquisition. I say given, but what I mean is they are forced to pay penance. Five years of their lives marked and in pain. If they survive those years they may either leave or once more work as an Inquisitor, with the knowledge that they will suffer the same fate a second time should they stray.”

Merros’s face was stricken with dread at the notion.

“The Inquisitors agree to this. They know that they must always be trusted. They know that failure to be worthy of that trust brings pain, disfigurement and, if they cause an innocent’s death, their own death in exchange.”

“Wasn’t the Minister of Lands supposed to be brought before me?” Nachia forced her jaw to relax. It wanted very much to grind her teeth to nubs.

“He is proving hard to find, Majesty. Also, it seems his home burned down.”

“Are we to assume that was a coincidence?”

“No, Majesty. The City Guard are investigating.”

“Make them investigate faster, please, Merros.”

Before Merros could say more, Darsken returned with Pella. Five minutes of conversation was all it took to make the arrangements.

The girl, Jost, would talk one way or another.

The fact offered Nachia no comfort.

Another messenger entered the throne room. The girl was slight and winded, and looked around with wide eyes. She bore the scars of surviving the Plague Winds, and as they were slight Nachia found herself hoping they would heal completely. She entered the chamber timidly. Likely she had never seen a room as large in her entire life.

She whispered to the guard, who pointed to Merros.

A moment later she was handing off her package and trying not to stare at Nachia. Nachia smiled at the girl and the girl smiled back. It was a smile that lit her entire face.

Barely looking up, Merros thanked the girl and dismissed her. The stress showed on his face.

“What is it?”

“Something is wrong. People are falling ill.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere, it seems.”

It was dark out, and the kings gathered. To the west the skies were black, hidden by clouds. To the east they were clear and the only patch of darkness hiding the stars was the distant city of Canhoon and, in the far distance, the frozen waves that made up the Arkannen Mountains.

The bonfire was large and only one of a hundred or more. The Sa’ba Taalor owned the area around the river and they did not hide their presence.

Ganem sat and stared into the fire, her eyes nearly glowing. “How long until their floating city reaches the mountains?”

Tarag Paedori answered, “Two days. We will have troops in position before then. And archers. As many as we can gather.”

Ganem nodded. “I have many archers. They are yours, of course.” She paused and considered. “Lored is still to the east?”

Tusk nodded, “Mmm. He is making progress. They do not seem to have as many cities there. More villages.”

“And Donaie Swarl? She is still at sea?”

“There are people out there.” Tusk shook his head. “They have no gods and mark their bodies with scars to tell tales of their greatness.” He tore a piece of hard bread and sopped it in the stew before him as he spoke. “The Fellein hired them to fight their water battles. Donaie decided they must die for mocking the gods. She is doing all she can to kill them all.”

“The gods agree with this?”

“She would not do it without their wishes. You know this.”

Ganem nodded her head and looked to Tarag Paedori. “Glo’Hosht is in the city that floats. They are breaking the city into pieces. Well, the people.”

The King in Iron nodded. “The fights among the masses are many. They have no place to rest and the skies are colder, as the tops of mountains are colder. The walls are frozen. The ground is hard with ice.” Tarag smiled. “And down here, Tuskandru has converted people to his faith.”

Tusk chuckled. “I did not convert them. They asked to join us.”

“They have been converted? They have heard the voice of Durhallem?” Ganem looked his way. Mercy was not the way of the Obsidian God.

“Durhallem has marked them. Durhallem can speak to them. More importantly, Durhallem can watch through their eyes and know what they think. A few sought to attack us from within their ranks.” Tusk paused for a moment, his eyes alight with the memories. “The unfaithful were killed for their insolence. As they reached into the forge, they reached into the very heart of Durhallem. If their loyalties were false, they burned at the touch of Durhallem’s wrath.”

Ganem nodded. That made sense.

N’Heelis stretched his lean body, scars glistening in the light of the fire. “My people await your orders, Tarag Paedori. Will you have us entering the floating city?”

Paedori nodded. “Mostly your people. Tusk will ride ahead. We have scouts who say they believe they know where the city will come to rest. It is a large area. His army and mine will go there.”

N’Heelis nodded and prepared to leave. He paused once to say, “To the north. Wrommish has chosen.”

Tarag Paedori nodded his head and watched the King in Gold leave. He looked to Ganem.

“Your archers will work to take the city. Meet with the rest of your people. Head east. As has been said, there are many villages. I want you to take as many as you can.”

“Capture or kill?”

“If they surrender, give them Tusk’s choice. Should Ydramil wish to take on new followers, make it so. If they fight, break them.”

“You do not want them dead?”

“Your god is the Mirror God. Let your enemies reflect on their sins while they die on the ground.”

Ganem nodded. There was a certain wisdom in those words.

Tarag Paedori’s hands worked on his armor, oiling metal and leather alike. “The city will not escape us. They have eluded us, yes, but there will be no escape.”

He looked at the visage of his god, hammered into the faceplate of his armor. “We will win this war for the Daxar Taalor. They have given us so much and all they ask in return is justice for the past.”