Dancer's Lament: Path to Ascendancy Book 1 (14 page)

Silk realized he’d met one of the women – and there were a few of them – who weren’t the least bit impressed or mesmerized by him. He let out his breath and relaxed his jaws. ‘By order of the Protectress – for whom I speak. Douse the torches.’

The officer slowly nodded. ‘Well, when you put it that way . . .’ She waved to the guards nearby. The torches and lanterns and braziers started going out all around. ‘Whatcha going to do?’

‘Stand up on the wall in full view of the entire Kanese army.’

‘Ah. You gonna take a dive?’

‘No, I’m not going to— Listen . . . what’s your name?’

‘Lieutenant Veralarathell.’

‘Well, lieutenant, you don’t seem to be demonstrating proper respect for command.’

The woman nodded her understanding. ‘Ah. That’s because I’m an engineer.’

‘An engineer?’

She leaned closer and lowered her voice, ‘A sapper, saboteur, miner—’

‘I know what an engineer is!’ Controlling his voice, he continued, ‘I mean, I didn’t know the two were conjoined.’

‘Ah. Certainly are, sir. Comes with the papers.’

Silk pressed his fingertips to his brow. ‘Well. Fascinating as all this is, I have an attack to thwart and a lesson to give.’

‘I am all attention, sir.’

‘Very good. When I give the word, order all your command to duck down and close their eyes.’

‘Strange way to repel an attack – if I may say so, sir.’

Silk, who had been climbing a merlon, paused, his shoulders hunching. ‘Just do it,’ he hissed, and carried on. Atop his rather precarious position, the cool night wind buffeting him, he reflected that he had actually rather enjoyed that byplay. At least it was far preferable to the toadying – or contempt – most officers gave him.

He scanned the field and found the Kanese formation. It was close enough. Importantly, he could see them, which meant that they could see him – should there be enough light. And there certainly would be in a moment. More than enough.

He pressed his hands together and concentrated, summoning his Warren. He took his time to gather and amass all the energy he could. The assault force was closing even more slowly now, wary because of the change among the torches and braziers high atop the wall. Silk could barely contain the intense power he held at bay, yammering to burst forth. To wait much longer would mean the consumption of his own flesh to ash.

‘Now,’ he grated to the lieutenant through his gritted teeth. He gave them three heartbeats to comply then thrust his hands palm out towards the field before the wall.

A burst of white light brighter than any day flooded the field like a solid flow of water. Screams rose from leagues around, and rising calls of panic. He must have blacked out momentarily as hands pulled him down, supporting him. Blinking, he found himself peering up at the lieutenant, who was pressing her forearm to her eyes and blinking as well.

‘Could’ve warned us,’ she growled.

‘I did.’

‘Not too organized in the follow-through, either.’

Silk nodded his rueful acceptance of that. ‘Yes, well, I was delayed by an officer who wouldn’t shut up.’

‘And who saved you from that dive.’

‘Do I owe you a date?’

‘You owe me a bottle of Untan cherry brandy.’

‘Done.’

The officer inclined her head towards the wall where, beyond, cries and panicked shouts continued. ‘They won’t be back tonight.’

‘Nor ever.’

The woman’s broad face hardened. ‘Never? You mean . . . ever?’

He shrugged a negative. ‘No. I’m not that strong. Maybe in a few years some should start getting their sight back.’

Lieutenant Veralarathell’s hardened mouth now turned down in distaste. ‘Gods, man. Years gone blind?’ She studied the dark out beyond the wall. ‘Who’ll take care of them? How will they provide for themselves?’

For the second time that night Silk raised his gaze to the night sky. What was everyone’s problem with expediency these days? ‘Please. They’re enemy soldiers. They can all stumble into the Idryn and drown for all I care.’

The woman shook her head, now in open disapproval. ‘You can keep your brandy, mage. Drink it. Maybe you’ll find some human feelings there at the bottom.’

Silk was practised at hiding his feelings. He was insulted to his face every day by those who took one look at him and developed an instant dislike. But for some reason this woman’s condemnation stung far deeper than most. As nonchalantly as he could, however, he tipped his head and offered a friendly grin. ‘You are dismissed, then, lieutenant.’

The woman gave him her back and walked away.

The urge to report the woman to the commander of the Hengan forces gripped Silk for a moment, but then it passed. Not least because Lord Plyngeth despised him and would probably promote her just for insulting him. Mostly, he simply didn’t want her to know she’d gotten under his skin.

Perhaps, instead, he’d tease her about it. When he was once more assigned to the north wall. Which he deemed unlikely to be in the near future. He cast a glance over the crenellations as he walked. His Thyr-enhanced vision revealed the chaos of the stumbling red glow-worm shapes milling about the fields like an overturned anthill.

No, he did not think they would be assaulting the north wall again any time soon.

* * *

After her first night’s walk, and her conversation with the city mage Smokey, Iko made it her habit to take the air every evening, sometimes as late as long after the mid-night bell. She was thinking ahead to when it might be helpful to have these Hengans used to her being out wandering the grounds late at night. She’d even struck up a courteous familiarity with the palace guards.

This eve, however, she was not alone. Yvonna was with her. And the sister’s grating presence reminded her of another reason why she so often sought the clean fresh air of the night over their crowded quarters with their heated rumours, rivalries, backbiting, and wearying eternal gossip.

And this night the mood of the city surrounding them was different. She’d sensed it immediately. It was, as the saying went, far too quiet; as if by some unspoken agreement all three hundred thousand or so of the city’s inhabitants had decided to retreat indoors.

Iko paused on the gravelled garden walkway and strained to listen. Yvonna, meanwhile, was prattling on: ‘There’s talk about you and your walks, you know,’ she announced in her ridiculous, falsely ingratiating way.

Iko frowned – was that a distant roar coming from the south? ‘Oh?’

‘Yes. Some say . . .’ Yvonna paused, waiting. When Iko said nothing she continued, ‘Well, perhaps I shouldn’t say anything . . .’

Yet you have, you idiot
. Iko sighed, rising to the bait. ‘What do they say?’

Yvonna leaned closer as she warmed to the subject. ‘Well, some . . . and I really shouldn’t say who . . .’

Because you’re one of them
.

‘. . . say that you’ve taken a lover here among the Hengan guards!’ The girl laughed gushingly. ‘Can you believe that?’

Gods, you’re enjoying this, you petty bitch
.

‘And that your walks are a mere excuse for your assignations—’

‘I get it,’ Iko cut in. She was squinting off to the south. That was definitely the sound of an attack and the great voice of the giant Koroll answering it. Their brothers and sisters were dying in an assault on the walls of Heng even as this vapid fool twittered on pushing her ugly rumours. For Iko’s part, every muscle ached to cut her way out of this palace and storm that wall herself.

‘You’re not even listening to me!’ Yvonna complained. Her revelation was obviously not having the desired effect.

‘Is he well hung?’ Iko asked.

Yvonna wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘What?’

‘My lover. Is he hung like a horse? Because I’d really like it to be worth it.’

Now the nostrils of Yvonna’s pointed nose flared angrily. ‘Don’t you care what everyone thinks?’

‘I don’t care what idiots think. And we have to report to Hallens, now.’ She ran without waiting to see whether her sister-at-arms followed.

She found their quarters a riot of activity. Armed sisters guarded every access and the rest were finishing readying their gear. She crossed to Hallens and bowed. Scanning the preparations, Hallens nodded to indicate that Iko had her attention.

‘An attack on the south wall,’ Iko reported. ‘Do we join them?’

An indulgent smile quirked the tall woman’s lips. ‘No, Iko.’

‘But an unexpected assault from the rear might turn the tide – or we could take a gate and hold it until a relieving party arrived.’

The smile broadened even as other nearby sisters gaped or smirked their astonishment. Their commander merely shook her head. ‘These are mere probes, Iko. Chulalorn must test the walls – no . . .’ she paused, as was her habit when correcting herself in mid-flow, ‘rather, the king must test the Hengans. He must measure the degree of their readiness, yes?’

Iko, who had been clenching her lips against a flow of objections, jerked her head in protest. ‘Why then do we prepare to fight?’

Now the older woman’s thin lips drew down. ‘Other news, Iko. Our sisters found the emissary’s chambers empty and went to demand his whereabouts. Word has come that he has gone over to the Protectress. Bought by Hengan gold, no doubt. He has betrayed the trust of the king.’

‘We must bring his head to Chulalorn!’

Hallens nodded. ‘In time. In time.’

‘Why then the preparations?’

‘Because we have also been informed that we are now hostages against the siege.’

Iko laughed her scorn. ‘We will easily cut our way free!’

Hallens raised her hands for calm. ‘Yes. But not now.’

‘Why ever not? Now is the time to strike. Before they have adequate guards in place!’

The sisters around them smirked anew at this, some hiding their mouths while others did not even bother. Iko felt her brows crimping in a ferocious frown. What was going on? Had Hallens turned as well? Was she the only one ready to fight?

Hallens invited her aside. ‘Let us walk, Iko.’

She now felt the blood drain from her face: dear gods above! She was to be disciplined. In front of everyone she had virtually accused her commander of cowardice and now she was to be kicked down to the lowest of the low.

She hung her head, bowing. ‘Yes . . . commander.’

Without, it was quiet. The attacks – probes, as Hallens had it – were over. The air was cool and its touch revived her spirits . . . slightly. ‘I apologize,’ she murmured once they were alone on the gravel path.

Hallens, so much taller, now cast another of her smiles down upon her. ‘For what? For being a Sword-Dancer? No, Iko. You show proper fighting spirit.’ She paused, sorting among her words, and Iko braced herself:
Here it comes
. . . ‘But you are impetuous. You do not consider the broader strategic picture.’

So her sisters were right to laugh at her! What a fool she must’ve seemed! She felt her throat clenching in sick self-loathing. ‘You will send me down,’ she gasped. Her heart burned in her chest with the shame of it.

The woman suddenly turned to her and grasped her shoulders. ‘No, Iko. Not at all. If that were true, I would not be out here with you now explaining our situation.’

‘You owe me no explanation.’

‘But I do.’ Hallens released her shoulders to resume her slow measured walk. ‘There is a sickness among us, Iko,’ she began, haltingly. ‘It comes from too much time in the palace, I think. Too many among us now value status and prestige over service, I fear. Who has Chulalorn’s momentary favour versus who has not. Or worse – who has the support of the palace functionaries.’ She shook her head sadly and her bunched auburn curls brushed her shoulders. ‘The bureaucrats, Iko. They will be the death of us . . .’ She pinched her eyes as she walked along. ‘But I digress. My point is that you seem immune to this political sickness and for that I am glad.’

Iko found she was frowning once more. ‘I’m sorry, commander, but I do not understand . . .’

‘You will. What bell is it?’

‘The second past the mid-night sounding.’

Hallens pinched her eyes again. ‘I am not used to these late-night vigils. But you are, yes? How old are you, Iko?’

‘Sixteen years.’

Her commander smiled fondly in reminiscence. ‘I remember my sixteenth year. When Chulalorn the Second travelled to Dal Hon for the treaty negotiations. I stood guard for two days and nights without relief when all the others fell sick. I fought off seven attempts upon his life.’

‘It is legend among us,’ Iko answered, hushed.

The woman waved it aside. ‘Well . . . Sometimes I wonder whether we shall ever see such days again.’ She cleared her throat and scanned the night sky for a time. ‘Anyway. They are late.’

Iko was surprised. ‘I’m sorry, commander. Who?’

‘Those whom I brought you out to meet. The attack must have delayed them.’

Iko peered round at the shadowed gardens. ‘But . . . we are in the palace grounds . . .’

Hallens raised a hand for silence. ‘Regardless – ah! Here they are.’

Iko peered round once again but saw nothing. Then her hand reflexively flew to the grip of her whipsword as something shifted in the dark. A night-black shape rose before her as if stepping out of the murk itself. Then another dropped from the sky on her left. Stunned, Iko let her hand fall, for she knew these shapes that now surrounded them, or had had them described to her – the way their black clothes seemed to shift and blur. The narrow slits of their eyes. And those eyes as flat and black as deepest night.

Their hidden companion order. The Nightblades of Itko Kan.

One stepped forth. She, or he, inclined a head all wrapped in obscuring layers of jet-black gauze. Hallens answered the small nod as one equal to another. ‘What does Chulalorn command?’ she enquired.

‘You are to remain in place,’ answered a man’s voice, soft, yet firm.

‘How goes the hunting?’

‘There is nothing to hunt. The Protectress places too much faith in her mages and has cultivated no other assets. The rooftops are ours to travel as we wish.’ The Nightblade extended a hand towards Iko and she was unnerved to see a long thin blade in his grip, its metal blued against any betraying glimmer. ‘This was to be a private meeting. Why bring another?’