Dancer's Lament: Path to Ascendancy Book 1 (42 page)

Gaining the same roof, he saw that it was a woman, though quite lacking in the curves that would normally proclaim the gender, and unusually tall. She wore old travelling clothes that had seen hard use, stained and a touch ragged. Her black hair was also a mess: unkempt and roughly hacked to a medium length.

She startled him by turning at his first steps; her face was pale and long, the eyes large and strangely luminous in the dark. She unnerved him further by inclining her head in greeting, as if she knew him, then turned her back to return her attention to the battle.

Dorin paused, rather uncertain how to proceed; her manner reminded him of various dangerous mages he’d seen. And various madmen, and women. He approached, but kept his distance, finding his own vantage where he could glimpse the streets of the Inner Round. Closer, he discovered that his instinct had been correct. His senses were highly trained, and though he was not a mage he could almost see the power sizzling the air about this one.

The woman’s arms were crossed and she unlimbered one to point to the southeast. ‘They have lost another toehold on the Inner.’

Dorin obligingly studied that quarter. Here the eruptions of power that rocked the night, accompanied by the occasional flash of energies, had been more concentrated. Now they were dying down.

‘They should pull back,’ he opined. ‘Secure their gain of the Outer.’

‘Yes,’ the woman agreed. He noted her gaze sliding sidelong to him. ‘But will they? Sometimes early success leads to overreach. Many campaigns – and careers – have been cut short by recklessness.’

‘Recklessness,’ he suggested, now feeling as if he were the new object of study, ‘is sometimes just inexperience.’

‘Agreed. The remedy, then, would be due caution and care, would it not?’

Dorin felt his chest tighten with a strange dread. He was now certain they’d left behind the topic of Heng’s fate. He began, tentatively, ‘Challenging the unknown requires the taking of risks . . .’

The strange woman’s gaze hardened, almost in warning, he thought. ‘Of course. But beware of recklessness.’

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. She turned her face away, asked, ‘What is he like?’

Dorin did not need to ask who. He cleared his throat, considering. ‘He is . . . odd.’

She nodded at that. ‘Good.’ And she added, half under her breath, ‘Oddness is probably a requirement.’

For his part, Dorin was becoming rather curious about her. He asked, ‘And who are you?’

‘Just a curious observer.’ She motioned to the streets once more. ‘Barricading the gates. They are relinquishing the Outer.’

‘A foregone conclusion. The mages are too few to roust the Kanese.’

The woman nodded. ‘Shalmanat may lose the entire south. I wonder if she will cut all the bridges across the Idryn.’

‘She will not see Heng destroyed. I believe she will sue for peace before then.’

The woman studied him anew, nodding. ‘I believe you are right. And what is your name?’

‘Mine to keep.’

A near smile tugged at her lips. ‘You are learning.’ She dropped her arms and inclined her head in farewell. ‘We may meet again.’

Dorin answered her nod. She crossed to an open trapdoor and descended the ladder. Dorin sat, rather shakily. He knew that the Dal Hon mage had accessed
something
, some potential source of power, and now he understood that others had noticed and were interested as well. Some – like this one – might be content to watch and wait, but others might not. He and Wu would probably have to defend what they’d dug up.

An echoing bellow rolled from the tangled streets to the south. It announced Koroll in his battle glee as he waded into the Kanese once more. Smoke from countless spot fires plumed in an arc across the Outer Round. Some were no doubt set intentionally, others accidentally. They marked the worst of the engagements.

Dorin waited for the dawn to reveal who now controlled the south of the city.

*

Iko held open a door for her sister Rei, then slammed it shut, watching through its slit. She was panting with exertion, her chest shuddering. Numerous minor cuts and bruises pained her, but nothing incapacitating. She pushed loose hair aside, worked to steady her breathing.

She and her sisters had wreaked bloody murder among the Hengan defenders, taking one of the gates to the Inner Round only to lose it again when the city mages appeared in flames and blasts of Warren energies. It was their bad luck to have been stranded on the wrong side of the gate. She now regretted her weakness in yielding to her rage and lust for revenge. What had it gathered them? Other than fallen sisters and nothing to show for it. They should have marched away once their objective had been reached; their duty lay with the king.

She turned an eye on Rei, nearly as young as she. ‘Well . . . it was good to finally stretch our limbs but it appears to be over. We will make for the nearest gate. No doubt the others are withdrawing as well.’

Rei’s answer was to wince as she gripped her hacked arm, and nod.

‘Stay behind me.’ Rei nodded curtly once more. Their fine mail was proof against edges and piercing, but some Hengan had managed to strike her with a wood-axe – only banded armour could have withstood the blow. Iko gripped the door. ‘There should be one near to the west, shouldn’t there?’

Rei straightened, gripped her whipsword in one hand. She ground out, ‘I will follow.’

‘Very good.’

Iko yanked open the door and slipped out into the street. Two guards spotted them almost immediately. They charged and Iko answered, rushing as well. As always, the far greater reach of the whipsword saw them through. Both Hengan guards fell aside as the keen blade snapped out, slicing across their faces. Iko charged past.

Crossbow bolts ricocheted from the stone walls next to her. They were fired from rooftops and the north wall. She dodged round burning upturned carts and wagons, jumped over debris and sprawled corpses.

She drove off two more gangs of roving Hengan guard. For that was what the battle had degenerated into: disorganized street-fighting where packs sought to consolidate their small sections of buildings. She had no idea as to the larger drift of the attack, but it did seem that the Hengans were merely cleaning up the Inner, what with the arrival of their mages.

She led Rei out into the wreckage choking an intersection so that she could try to get a look up the street. Through black smoke boiling out of the doors of buildings she glimpsed a gate, now barricaded and hung with banners of Kanese verdant green. ‘Almost home.’

A barrage of arrows fell about them and clattered from the stones. Rei grunted then, falling to one knee. An arrow had passed almost entirely through her thigh. Iko knelt to pick her up while searching for the source. A column of Hengans was advancing up the avenue, at their fore a black-robed Dal Hon woman bearing a wild mane of ropy kinky hair. Mara. Iko cursed her luck and turned to make for the gate, half-dragging a moaning Rei with her.

Crossbow bolts skittered from the cobbles all about her and snapped from the walls. Heavier answering fire cut through the air from the gate and the Hengans scattered for cover. A bellow of rage brought Iko’s attention round: Mara, a raised hand clutching the air, her eyes on them.

The building next to Iko started groaning. Stones grated, sliding.

Iko ran, dragging Rei, as the entire shop front next to them tottered outward over the street. Dressed sandstone blocks rained around them. The cobbles beneath her feet juddered as the wall came crashing down. She threw Rei forward. Something cracked into the back of her leg, driving her to the road. Dust obscured her vision and she choked on it, coughing.

Figures moved like ghosts through the hanging particles. Iko tried to rise but her foot was pinned. She sought among the broken stones for her weapon, found its grip gritty with powdered rock.

‘Sword-Dancer!’ one figure called in a strong Kanese accent.

‘Here!’ The figures closed, revealing dusty surcoats of green. ‘My leg—’ she began.

‘No time.’ They heaved and she screamed as her foot seemed to snap off.

The next moment she knew she was being half-carried with each of her arms over a soldier to right and left. Crossbow fire continued to strike about them as they wove between barricades held by crouching Kanese regulars. Her feet dragged behind her and she felt as if she were in a delirium. ‘Rei,’ she called, suddenly remembering.

‘We have the other,’ one soldier said.

‘Good.’

‘You are the last, I think. That hellion Mara really wanted you.’

Iko wanted to answer, but her foot, knocking among stones and fallen timbers, twisted in a way it shouldn’t, its bones grating, and she knew nothing more.

ONCE THE BATTLE
died down into a sullen staring match across barricades, Dorin returned to Wu’s underground quarters. He knew he was no expert at sieges but it appeared to him that the two sides now had each other in a death grip and were determined to throttle one another.

He found Wu in his cellar ‘chambers’ sitting cross-legged and staring at a wall, a low fire burning behind him. He appeared to be doing nothing more than watching the shadows play across the surface as he sat chin in fist.

‘Fight’s over,’ Dorin announced. A decanter of wine stood on the table and he poured himself a glass. Drinking it he gagged – still as sour as rat piss. More ancient looted grave offerings. He set the glass aside.

Wu turned to him, blinking, his face blank. ‘The what?’

‘The siege, you know? The Kanese have taken the south Outer Round.’

The Dal Hon mage waved the development aside. He returned to eyeing shadows. ‘Well, that’s good for us, yes?’

‘How so?’

‘Chulalorn is more likely to hang about, isn’t he? We can move on Pung.’

Dorin peered at him. ‘Or not. He may think it all in hand and give things over to his generals and return to the south. But anyway, Pung is nothing to me now.’

Wu rose, stretching his arms. ‘Not Pung. Our rightful possession – stolen from us.’

‘From you.’ Wu poured himself a glass of the wine and Dorin watched him gulp it. ‘How is it?’

Wu coughed, and with great effort managed to force the drink down. ‘Oh, it’s quite good,’ he gasped. ‘A unique aftertaste. You should get to know your wines. As to who or what Pung is – that is immaterial. We need that box.’

‘You mean
you
want that box.’

‘It’s my price. As agreed, yes?’

‘Exactly . . . as agreed. You help me reach Chulalorn and I will help you. Chulalorn may leave at any time but your box isn’t going anywhere, is it?’

The youth appeared pained. ‘Well, that’s the problem. The object is disguised. It doesn’t appear valuable at all. It may be thrown away.’

Dorin remembered Pung’s lackey, Gren, saying that the mage had had nothing valuable on him. ‘What does it look like, then?’

‘Never mind. The point is it is just as urgent!’

‘Chulalorn first – Pung’s going nowhere.’

Wu glared for a time. He raised a brow as if attempting to give the evil eye, but Dorin did not change his own expression of placid scorn. Wu slumped, waving the matter aside. ‘Oh, very well. I suppose we will be too busy once we have the item in any case.’

Dorin ignored the bait. ‘I’ll go to reconnoitre the site.’

Wu opened his arms in disbelief. ‘There is no need. We were just out there – I got us away and I will get us back in just as easily.’

‘We haven’t agreed on routes. Or fallbacks. Or rendezvous sites in case we get separated.’

Wu’s gaze darted about the dim cellar. ‘On what?’

Dorin let his arms fall, utterly disheartened. ‘Oh, great gods below! Let me organize this, all right?’

Recovering, Wu now held a lofty expression. ‘If you must.’ He reached for the wine but shied away at the last moment. ‘The diggers have the tunnels ready to hit Pung’s compound, you know. We need only dart in and out.’

‘Later. First I’m going out to get a feel for the lie of the land out there.’

‘Very well. Ah . . . need I come along?’

‘No. I most certainly don’t want you along.’

The Dal Hon’s prematurely wrinkled face turned crafty and sly. ‘If you insist.’

Dorin just gave him another hard look before he turned to the flimsy door. ‘Later.’

‘Yes, later.’

Dorin knew the damned mage was up to something but he let it go, hoping it wouldn’t interfere with his reconnoitring. He headed into the warren of tunnels and catacombs. The nearest exit he found was guarded by a lad, one of the diggers, now armed with a crossbow and a wicked-looking long-knife. The lad gave him a deep nod, almost like a salute. ‘Sir.’

Dorin was startled. ‘Sir?’

‘You’re second in command.’

‘Really?’

‘Un-huh. And I want you to know we’ve pushed Pung’s boys out of this quarter.’

Dorin was even more taken aback. ‘You’re
fighting
them?’

‘’Course! They’d wipe us out, wouldn’t they?’

‘Well, true enough.’

‘Oh, and there’s a message for you.’

‘A message?’

‘Yeah. From a girl. Came last night. Gave her name as Rheena. Says it’s important she talk to you.’

Dorin nodded, considering. Rheena? Really? ‘Well, when I get back, I guess. My thanks. What’s your name anyway, lad?’

‘Baudin, sir. Named for my father, and my father’s father. All Baudin.’

Dorin examined the lean, hardened youth – barely twelve perhaps and already toughened by a life of privation and abuse that none should have to endure. ‘Well, don’t mount any major attacks without consulting me.’

‘If you say so, sir.’

‘Yeah. I say so.’ He gave a nod of farewell and squirmed from the exit, concealed as it was beneath a pile of wreckage.

He made for the east and the water gate of the Inner Round. Here he slipped into the Idryn and swam out towards mid-stream, making for a piece of flotsam that he gripped as it drew him along. Once he was far enough from the city, and with dawn coming on, he made for the south shore, slid up among a stand of tall grasses and cattails and lay there, letting the sun dry him.

Mid-morning, he found a vantage among the meagre hills south of the city and kept a watch on the tent city that the Kanese had raised. The focus of his attention was the central ring of larger tents – the officials, court, and field command of King Chulalorn the Third. He watched the guards trading off. He timed their rounds and made a rough count of their numbers, then waited for night. He ate a small meal of smoked meat and a knuckle of hardened cheese, and emptied the one skin of water he’d brought.