A Shout for the Dead (76 page)

'So I should just lock them out and let them die.'

Vasselis's worries about Herine gained intensity. She was given to considering grand gestures to appease the citizenry. But she didn't ever walk the palace walls. She didn't understand the mood.

'No, my Advocate, you should be allowed to effectively defend the city. That means persuading the Order to cease their stupidity and encourage the people to back us through the crisis. It means an orderly evacuation of the city.'

Gesteris stood. 'One thing we aren't considering. I respect Master Stertius as we all do. But he is making some pretty bold assumptions. We have upwards of two thousand guards and legionaries defending this palace. Unless the Armour of God wheel artillery up here, they simply won't be able to get in unless we open the gates and let them.'

'Yes, Marcus, and that is what Herine seems to be considering.'

'Arvan, Marcus, thank you and sit down,' said Herine. 'I hear you. Many things may or may not occur and we must be prepared for a number of eventualities. So I will do what you ask, Arvan. And I will speak to the Council of Speakers. Bring them to me. And if they refuse to listen we will take further steps to clear the streets and empty the city.'

Vasselis kept his mouth closed to avoid gaping. Gesteris and Kastenas both reacted but kept their calm.

'You wanted to say something, Arvan?'

'If I may, I feel you are sending out conflicting messages. A moment ago you wanted to open the gates for everyone. Now you want to clear the streets if you don't get what you want from the Order.'

Herine shrugged. 'Can I not change my mind on hearing advice from my most trusted friends?' 'Of course, my Advocate, but—'

‘I
hear you and I consider that we have been on the defensive too long. Let those who will not help perish under the swords of the dead. Let those who would still clamour at my gates feel my anger.'

'That's not quite what I—'

'Be quiet, Marshal Vasselis.' Vasselis started. Gesteris stared at him and his expression said everything. 'I will talk to the Council but I will be issuing demands and not negotiating. I shall be doing it in private. I expect you all to back your Advocate without question. Marshal Vasselis, should I give the signal, I want the Ascendants to earn their keep this day. The streets must be cleaned of dissent. A little rain might be appropriate. Dismissed, all of you.'

Evening and the three tenth-strand Ascendants stood in a shadowed tower overlooking the crowds, their fires, torches and effigies. The sun was dipping behind the western hills, c
asting a glorious radiance across
the torn city. Vasselis and Hesther had thought it prudent to bring the Ascendants here to see their target, for such it was almost certain -to be. They'd left the shouting coming from the basilica offices where the Advocate was with the Council of Speakers. It was a debate only going one way.

The apprehension in the tower was palpable. Vasselis was by no means convinced that the trio could deliver what the Advocate would inevitably demand. They still bore the grief of the loss of Cygalius and Bryn. Now these young people, Mina and Yola, the sisters, and Petrevius, the brother, were about to personally incur the wrath of Estorr's angry populace.

'Seen enough?' asked Hesther. 'Wind and rain. Sleet and hail if you can do it. We need to extinguish the fires and force them all back to their homes.'

'But there are so many,' said Mina. She was a stick-thin child and her bony hands gripped each other. 'Hundreds of yards square and that's just what we can see.'

'Can you do it?' asked Vasselis.

'Should we?' asked Petrevius.

He was tall and slender. A gentle giant, Hesther said, but like them all, chock full of very individual principle.

'That's dangerous talk right now,' warned Vasselis. 'You've had Ossacer in your ear too much, young man. I'll answer your question. Yes, you should because the Advocate demands it and you are sworn to serve her.'

'But—'

'No buts. To serve is not always to agree. Now answer my question. Can you do it? We aren't asking you to kill anyone, just soak them and scare them a little.'

Petrevius sighed. 'Yes, we can do it. We can use the fountain pool.'

'About time we washed the filth from the streets,' said Yola. 'We've spent too long not fighting back.'

She tossed back her long brown hair and stared at Vasselis, dark eyes steady in her plain face.

Vasselis raised his eyebrows. 'But you will be working together in harmony, right?'

'We don't all listen to Ossacer,' said Yola. 'Petre knows my feelings, I know his. Doesn't change anything. Except I'll be leading this Work, won't I, my brother?'

Petrevius said nothing but his face flushed. He was the Wind Harker of the trio, Yola principally a Land Warden.

'Are you sure?' asked Hesther.

'We're sure,' said Yola.

A guard cleared his throat. 'They're leaving the basilica.'

Vasselis turned to look. The four Speakers were striding down the steps and heading past the fountain. He could see Herine framed in the light of the basilica. She stood very tall and very proud. There was no need for a message.

'Time to play,' said Yola.

Vasselis watched them walk down the steps and out into the courtyard. The Ascendants walked in a tight group with Hesther a few paces behind them. They talked and gestured as they went. The courtyard was largely clear. Much of the reserve was deployed elsewhere. Vasselis would have liked them back.

The Speakers approached around the opposite side of the grand fountain, its rearing horses lit by lanterns and candles. Hesther tried to guide them away but Yola led them on a collision course. She walked slowly by them, staring right into their faces. Vasselis couldn't see the Speakers' expressions but he heard the echoes of words, the trading of insults. He cleared his throat to cover a smile.

'Cheeky little minx,' he said. 'Arvan.'

Vasselis swung round. 'Marcus, where do you spring from?' 'I've been walking the walls,' said the one-eyed senator. 'Come see what I see.'

With a final glance at the fountain, where the Ascendants were kneeling to prepare, all three in the fountain bowl for maximum contact, Vasselis allowed himself to be led down the short stairs on to the rampart. Out of earshot, he presumed.

'What do you see?' asked Gesteris, gesturing out over the demonstrators.

It was relatively quiet at the moment. The citizens were waiting for news of the council's meeting with the Advocate. 'Look, I know where this is going, Marcus.'

'She is making a huge mistake. She'll bring the Armour of God against us.'

'I know,' hissed Vasselis. 'But we must stand behind her, now more than at any other time.'

Marcus shook his head. 'You are her closest friend with Jhered absent. She trusts you, she'll listen to you. If you run you can stop her now.'

'I agree with you. And yet I find myself asking; is it a bad thing that the citizenry are given a live demonstration of Ascendant power?'

'Yes!' Gesteris spat the word out. 'Of course it is. Perhaps Herine is not the only one with muddied thoughts. We cannot throw away all the efforts of the last ten years. Painstaking effort to get acceptance. Endless promises that no Ascendant will ever use a destructive Work on the Omniscient faithful.'

'What would you have me do, Marcus? Look behind you.'

Marcus did. And he saw what Vasselis saw. In the fountain, water sluiced up over and around the Ascendants. The Advocate stood with them. She spoke briefly to Hesther and then signalled the Victory Gates. Centurions without passed orders by flag. And every legionary and cavalryman delivered the same warning.

'Disperse. Disperse immediately. By order of the Advocate, the palace approach is to be cleared. Move now or you will be moved.'

But the people did not understand. Their initial surprise at the announcement turned to jeers and a barrage of soft missiles as the legionaries and cavalry began to back off towards the gates, spreading

around the base of the walls as they had been ordered. Citizens came over the wooden barriers. In ones and twos and then in a flood, breaking them as they came. They filled in the apron and advanced. Not in a hurry, they were wary.

'Too late,' said Vasselis. 'Pray this doesn't go wrong, Marcus.'

The beautiful evening sky began to darken.

Chapter Fifty-Three

859th cycle of God, 53rd day of
Genasrise

Clouds boiled into the once-clear air. A column of water turning to mist speared up from the fountain, amplified a hundredfold by the Ascendants. Vasselis had to grab at the rampart rail as a wind sucked inwards over the wall, energy howling into the Work.

Moment by moment, the clouds darkened and spread so fast the eye could not track their speed. Low, a thousand feet or less, they swarmed from the palace and hung over the apron and well beyond like a predatory bird ready to strike. There was a swirl at their centre and the whole turned slowly about this axis.

Vasselis could feel the power within the Work. It pressed on him like a weight, crushing at his chest, forcing him to gasp for breath.

'They'd better not get this wrong,' said Gesteris, rasping.

The legionaries and guards delivered their warning again. Some had heeded it this time, taking in the lowering, brooding cloud above them, and had turned on their heels. But most stood. Vasselis could see Order ministers and Armour of God soldiers amongst them. Cajoling people, exhorting them to resist and to pray. Many knelt, one hand crablike to the ground, the other to the sky.

The first drops of rain began to fall. Wind began to drive into the centre of the cloud from every direction and blow down on the apron, still packed with thousands of citizens. Quickly, the rain thickened, became spears thundering down, bouncing from the cobbles. Thunder crackled inside the cloud. The wind whistled over buildings, picked up debris and hurled it at the crowds.

At the margins, citizens broke away in larger numbers, seeking shelter anywhere they could get it. Below Vasselis, the Conquord military bunched closer to the wall and held on to each other. On the walls, he and Gesteris were getting drenched but neither felt able to move. Both men clung harder to the rail, buffeted by the wind that was strengthening at an alarming rate.

Abruptly, the cloud deepened and spread, sending the worst of the deluge over the palace. A sheet of light flared inside the dark mass. The coil tightened and spun faster. A tongue licked down, almost touching the ground. Citizens were beginning to run in large numbers. The job was close to being done. Vasselis, his eyes stinging from the rain that thrashed over his helmet and beat into his eyes on the teeth of the gale, turned, looked and knew he had to get to Hesther and the Ascendants.

Yola screamed with excitement as the energy coursed through her. The fountain water surrounded her, surrounded them all. Its clean energies soaked into her and through into the pooled well of their power. There it grew exponentially and flooded out into the Work that refocused it into cloud, storm and thence back into water as hard, relentless rain.

She could sense the citizens below the cloud beginning to break and run. Their quick energies were like motes of light in the morass of pulsing deep reds and blues that powered the weather Work. White bloomed inside it, reported back down the energy lines and shook them all.

'What was that?' yelled Petre.

The rain was hammering so hard on them now, on the fountain above and fizzing into the fountain pool that she could barely hear him.

'It's too big.' Mina's voice was a wail. 'It's all right, we can hold it.'

Yola saw that the Work was steady but that more energy than they had planned was feeding in. Not from the fountain, from the Work itself. Arducius had warned them about this once. The Work feeding itself. Another flash. And a sucking at their energy as if the Work was trying to break free.

'Hold it, hold it!' Yola was shrieking.

'Where did the lightning come from?' Petre sounded scared. 'There shouldn't be lightning.'

'Take some energy out of the Work,' said Mina. 'It's getting too big for us.'

'No, hold it.'

But Yola wasn't really sure they could. The wind blasted around inside the palace courtyard and she could sense it howling away across the open apron and rushing down into the city. The sky was filling and filling. There was another flash and the cloud dipped and touched the earth.

Vasselis could barely move. If he let his grip go, he'd be thrown from the rampart. The wind seemed to be straight in his face, whichever way he turned. People were scattering from the apron now. Someone was trying to haul open the Victory Gates to let the legionaries in but they would fail. The wind sucked them into their frames and rattled them there, shaking the whole triumphant arch.