The Destiny of the Dead (The Song of the Tears Book 3) (47 page)

‘You’ve got to continue with the plan,’ said Flydd,
breathing heavily. ‘You’ve got to get to Morrelune.’

‘Within fifteen days,’ said Yulla, who alone among them
seemed calm and in control. She thought for half a minute. ‘All right, this is
the plan. You’ll have to allow eleven days to sail to Fadd then march up into
the mountains to Morrelune. Adding a slim contingency of two days for all the
things that can go wrong makes thirteen days. Therefore, you’ve got to sail
within forty-eight hours.’

It was another insight into the woman who, greedy though she
was, had been such an accomplished governor. She had the gift of instantly
summing up each new threat and calmly responding.

Nish wished he had her presence of mind. In fifteen days, a
hundred things could go wrong, any one of which could prevent him from reaching
Morrelune in time. He fought to control his panic, to appear as calm as she
was, though the situation already seemed beyond control.

‘That schedule allows no time to get the fleet away in
secret,’ said Flydd. ‘And our departure must be secret, for every power in the
empire will be after Nish now.’

Yulla steepled her pudgy fingers and rested her chin on
them. ‘I have it. Nish has to show himself in Roros, tomorrow morning, then fly
away on the air-sled.’

‘How is that going to help?’ cried Nish.

‘The moment you appear, then disappear,’ said Yulla, ‘the
seneschal of Roros will know you’re up to something, and he’ll send his army
after you, plus most of the scriers and wisp-watchers in Roros.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘He has to. If the seneschal takes you, he has removed the
biggest obstacle to his seizing the throne; but if he loses you, and you take
the throne, you’ll get rid of him at once.’

Yulla turned a black crystal over in her hands, then went
on. ‘I’ve been moving my corps out of Roros in small numbers over the last
week. Once the seneschal’s army and scriers have gone after you, Nish, the
fleet will slip out of port, load your army in the isolated cove of Kralt,
south of here, and sail for Fadd at all speed.’

She looked around, smiling like a crouching toad.

‘How do
we
get to
Fadd?’ said Nish. ‘On the air-sled?’

Yulla’s smile vanished. ‘I have other uses for it. M’lainte
will take you to the fleet and bring the air-sled back.’

‘I don’t understand why I have to show myself,’ said Nish
warily. ‘There’s got to be a good reason, otherwise the seneschal will be
suspicious.’

‘He’ll be sure you’re after chthonic fire, so you can claim
the empire.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Nish. ‘Why would he think I’m
after the fire?’

‘Because you’re going to attack an ancient monastery not far
from Roros.’

‘A monastery!’

‘It’s called the House of the Celestial Flame, and it’s
built over a vent that has been burning for thousands of years.’

Flydd stared at Yulla. ‘And you think the pure chthonic fire
could be hidden there?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Yulla, ‘though I know that a good
place to hide something is where everyone can see it. Once the seneschal thinks
you’re after the fire, Nish, he’ll be determined to take you, and it’s all that
matters.’

‘So you want me to steal some of the monks’ sacred fire,
tomorrow
?’ said Nish.

‘Yes. Then run for the mountains on my air-sled. M’lainte has
repaired it but she’ll pretend that its mechanism is failing. The seneschal is
bound to take most of his army, and his scriers, since he can’t afford to give
you the slightest chance to escape. Once you’ve led him well away from Roros,
M’lainte will double back to the coast at night and you’ll go aboard ship for
Fadd.’

‘And the seneschal will follow us.’

‘He won’t be able to,’ said Yulla. ‘He won’t have any
ships.’

‘I like it,’ said Flydd.

Nish did not. Events were moving too quickly for him. ‘How
can I plan an attack on a place I’ve never seen, in so little time? If
something goes wrong we could be trapped.’

‘If it’s planned properly,’ said Yulla, ‘nothing will go
wrong.’

Statements like that only made him feel worse. ‘If this
diversion is necessary, why can’t it be done by someone else?’

‘The seneschal won’t lead his army out of Roros after anyone
else, and he’s got to go or I won’t be able to get the fleet away. You have to
do it, Nish, and it has to be tomorrow.’

‘The House of the Celestial Flame?’ said Flydd thoughtfully.
‘I can’t say I’ve heard of it.’

‘For three thousand years its monks have worshipped at the
sacred vent, and they’re a wealthy, secretive order with powerful friends. When
Nish’s father declared himself God-Emperor, most other monasteries were
dissolved and their wealth was appropriated, but the Order of the Celestial
Flame went untouched.’

‘Where is the monastery?’ said Nish.

‘In a valley a few leagues west of Roros, a place of great
natural beauty,’ said Persia. ‘Its walls are granite cliffs hundreds of spans
high, threaded with waterfalls; the floor of the valley is lush with sweet
grass and a hundred kinds of wildflowers. There are geysers, mud baths and
mineral springs, and the animals that dwell there are so tame that they can be
fed from the hand, for the monks of the Celestial Flame eat neither flesh, fish
nor fowl.’ She sounded wistful.

‘Tomorrow,’ Nish said dazedly.

‘Yes,’ said Yulla. ‘You’ll leave here in the early hours,
rendezvous with M’lainte and your militia and depart on the air-sled at dawn,
so you can be seen, and reach the valley an hour later. The great city
wisp-watchers will note your path, but it’ll take the seneschal’s fastest
riders all morning to get to the monastery.’

‘It doesn’t leave a lot of time to deal with the monks and
find the white fire –
if it’s there
,’
said Flydd. ‘If you want everyone to believe Nish is after the true fire, he’s
got to do a convincing job.’

‘It’s all the time we have,’ said Persia. ‘We can’t leave
before dawn, because Nish has to be seen leaving Roros.’

‘How many monks are there?’ asked Nish.

‘About sixty, though many are old and some infirm. At least
half the number are young and will doubtless put up a fight; you’ll have to
subdue them without harming them.’

Nish’s heart sank even further; it would be like fighting
with his hands tied. ‘What’s the layout?’

‘The monastery is set halfway up a broad valley with rivers
to either side,’ said Persia. ‘It’s a single building shaped like a wheel, one
storey high, easy to attack and impossible to defend. The order has no
enemies.’

It does now, Nish thought.

‘And the Celestial Flame is where?’ asked Flydd.

‘There’s a temple at the centre of the wheel, built over a
subterranean vent. Its vapours have burned continuously since the monastery was
established.’

Flydd raised an eyebrow. ‘The parallels with Mistmurk
Mountain, where I first found the chthonic flame, are unmistakable.’

‘But they may be coincidental,’ said Yulla. ‘Flames fed by
natural vapours occur at several places in Crandor.’

‘Has anyone built temples over them, and protected them for
thousands of years?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘Then the true fire could well be hidden at the monastery
and, since no one had heard about chthonic fire until I found it at Mistmurk,
it would be perfectly safe there. Even if the place was ransacked, fire would
attract no attention.’ Flydd paced the room. ‘Surely it can’t be that easy?’

‘If it is there,’ said Nish, ‘we can’t let the God-Emperor’s
seneschal get hold of any.’

‘You’ll have to search the place thoroughly, steal any white
fire you find, and put out the sacred flame.’

The monks are going to love that, Nish said to himself. ‘Who
is the seneschal, anyway?’

Yulla looked at Persia, who was staring straight ahead, her
hands clenched. ‘Persia!’ Yulla said sharply.

Persia drew a shuddering breath. ‘He –’ Her voice went
shrill, but she controlled it with an effort and said, ‘He comes from the south
and has an evil reputation. His name is Vomix.’

Nish felt the acid burning his throat again, for Vomix had
destroyed Maelys’s home, Nifferlin Manor, and eliminated most of Clan
Nifferlin, all because of a thoughtless remark she had made as a child, when
the seneschal had passed her on the road. And what did Persia know of him?

‘That settles it,’ said Nish, thinking about the relentless
way the seneschal had hunted him and Maelys after the escape from Mazurhize.
‘He’s a brute and no depravity is beyond him. If I get the chance to strangle
the bastard with my bare hands, I will.’

‘Under the terms of our agreement,’ said Yulla icily, ‘you
will take no unnecessary risks.’

‘I don’t recall that being mentioned before,’ snapped Nish.

‘It must have slipped my mind,’ she said blandly. ‘You will
carry out the diversion, take the fire, fly away on the air-sled and hide until
dark. Later that night M’lainte will fly you, your militia and Persia to the
fleet, and Persia will carry the flame to Morrelune, in case it is the pure,
uncorrupted fire.’

‘I hadn’t realised she was coming with us.’

‘I have to protect my investment,’ said Yulla with another
toad-like smile.

So Persia wasn’t only here to protect him, but also to spy
on him and report back to Yulla. Nish ground his teeth together. He was fed up
with being manipulated, first by his father, and Vivimord, then Flydd and now
Yulla.

‘We still have one unsolved problem,’ said Flydd.

‘What’s that?’ said Nish.

‘To save Santhenar, we’ve got to find
pure
fire, but if it isn’t at the monastery we don’t know where to
look for it.’

‘That must be your task, Flydd,’ said Yulla, ‘and it may be
that you’re the only one who can do it.’

‘It may be that no one can do it,’ said Flydd.

They were supposed to be leaving Yulla’s mansion in the
early hours, but Persia woke Nish before midnight. ‘It’s time to go.’

He checked the stars through the window and saw that he’d
been asleep for no more than an hour. ‘Is something wrong?’

She was looking down at him, and Nish thought he saw a
momentary sadness in her dark eyes.

She hesitated before saying firmly, ‘Yulla thought it best
that we leave early.’

He got ready, yawning and feeling more than usually
dull-witted. Persia led him on foot to an empty warehouse by the harbour, where
the militia were camped, still asleep. He found a spare blanket, lay down and
slept at once.

Not long before dawn, Chissmoul and M’lainte landed the
rebuilt air-sled on the warehouse roof, which sloped towards the sea and was
not visible from Roros. The craft now boasted an ornate cabin over the stern
half, framed in brass and black iron. Small windows all around were made from
thin, flexible sheets of clear mica, and there were also angled arrow slits.
Rows of benches inside would seat the militia during flight, while double doors
at the front would keep out wind and weather.

‘The walls and roof are of bimblewood,’ said M’lainte, ‘a
timber so light that a beam of it can be picked up by a child, yet so strong
that it will keep out a crossbow bolt fired from close range. But not a
javelard spear, unfortunately.’

‘I hope it won’t come to that,’ said Nish.

‘Best to be prepared for every contingency,’ said M’lainte,
rubbing her stubby, oil-stained fingers through her thin hair and smearing
black oil across the bald patch.

‘Like keeping the wretched thing in the air!’

‘You won’t have that problem again; I’ve rebuilt the flight
mechanism. Considering it was the personal air-sled of the God-Emperor, it was
remarkably ill-made. It’ll be much more reliable now, and twice as fast.’ Her
old eyes gleamed at the thought.

‘Everyone must stay inside during fast flight,’ M’lainte went
on as the militia assembled, ‘otherwise they’ll be in danger of going over the
side with every change of course.’

‘What about Chissmoul?’ said Nish. Her canvas seat had been
replaced by an extravagant, sleigh-like bench, wide enough for two, made of iron
and red cedar. A pair of belts were looped through the rear slats.

‘I’ve got to be able to see.’ Chissmoul wore leathers; a
pair of insect-spattered goggles were pushed high on her forehead.

She took her seat, M’lainte sat beside her and Flangers led
the militia inside. Nish was glad to be back with them after the past
frustrating week. The injured had been left behind, save for Clech who, after
allowing a risky experimental bone-healing spell to be used on him, so as to
heal his thigh bones quickly, was hobbling about on crutches, and Aimee, whose
healing ribs were bound so tightly she had trouble bending over.

Dawn streaked pink rays across the sky. Chissmoul looked
questioningly at Nish, who was standing with Persia on the roof. In the
blushing light she looked more beautiful than ever.

‘A few more minutes,’ she said. ‘Nish has to be seen.’

He went through his mental list again, fretting that he had
forgotten something vital. In daylight, the attack seemed foolhardy, even
reckless.

‘Where’s Xervish?’ he said abruptly.

‘Gone,’ said Persia, who was looking out to sea. A
pleasantly cool breeze ruffled a few dark hairs that had escaped her braid.

‘I thought he was coming with us.’

‘He was never coming with us,’ she said quietly, not meeting
his eyes.

‘And no one thought to tell me? Wait a minute! That’s why we
left early, isn’t it? So you could separate us.’

‘It wasn’t of my doing,’ said Persia, again colouring
delicately. ‘Yulla thought it was best.’

‘Really?’ snapped Nish, still furious about the way he’d
been manipulated by everyone. ‘Why does Yulla want to separate us?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘Can’t, or won’t?’