The Fortress of Glass (30 page)

"I didn't know...," Donria said, staring at Garric again. "Headman, did you make it do this?"

"Do as it asks, mistress," Garric said. "The Bird isn't one of our enemies here."

He grinned at the Bird. "I don't think so, at any rate."

The Bird clucked audibly again. "I do not have friends or enemies," it said in Garric's mind. "Only purposes. Your present survival benefits my purposes, Garric."

"Go along with him," Garric said, giving the trembling Donria a gentle pat. She bolted around the corner of the building, almost colliding with Newla and her two flunkies holding pails and a trencher of dried fish.

Did Donria think the Bird was a God? Hmm; was the Bird a God?

The Bird had hopped with its assortment of sticks and cord into the interior of the building. Though unseen its words rang with tart clarity in Garric's mind: "I am not a God."

Garric stood out of courtesy for the women bringing the food, then settled again. The pails were cut from the stems of a jointed grass-bigger than bamboo from the island of Shengy, but something like that. The smaller pail held a sour fermented beverage. It had a reddish cast, so he supposed it was wine rather than beer. His lips puckered when he sipped it, but it was better than water polluted by run-off from human slaughter.

Crispus stepped around the corner. He held a wrist-thick log the length of his forearm. It was cruder than the cudgel that he'd tried to use on Garric the night before, but it'd do.

Garric scrambled to his feet, holding the pail. He'd left the cudgel behind in the headman's room. He thought of shouting to Donria to throw it through the vent to him, but the chances were he'd lose the fight if he turned away from Crispus to grab a wildly flung weapon.

The women scattered like frightened chickens, though Garric saw them only as motion at the corners of his eyes. He didn't blame them. This wasn't their fight, and he was a stranger with no claim on their loyalty anyway.

Crispus shuffled forward, holding the club vertical in both hands. He hadn't spoken. His nose was purple and swollen, and his eyes were bloodshot.

What would happen if I ran? Garric wondered. He wouldn't, though. There was the risk his leg'd cramp because of the way he'd been tied on the march from Wandalo's village, and anyway he didn't like the thought of running.

In the back of his mind King Carus weighed options with the cold skill of a born warrior. Crispus wasn't going to get a third chance to kill the man who'd supplanted him as headman....

"Hey, what's going on down there?" the tower guard called. The Corl couldn't see him or Crispus either because the building was in the way, but he'd noticed the women fleeing and could guess what it meant. "Torag will decide when you'll be allowed to fight!"

Crispus ignored the guard, edging closer by a dragging step. Garric smiled disarmingly. He was crouching, but instead of tensing he let his body rise slightly as though he'd relaxed.

Arms clutched his torso from behind and lifted him off the ground. "Now, Crispus!" Soma screamed. She was as strong as an octopus.

Crispus strode forward, bringing his club down in a whistling arc. Garric kicked back at the post he'd been leaning against, throwing himself and Soma both to the right.

The club smacked the woman's shoulder hard enough to stagger Garric too. Soma shouted and lost her grip. Garric sprang up, grabbing Crispus' left wrist and the shaft of the club.

Crispus bawled in fear and tried to pull away. Garric let go of his wrist and used both hands to wrench the club free. Crispus turned and ran around the corner of the building. Garric sprang after him.

The gate between the slave and Coerli portions of the compound was open. The guard stood in it; he'd come down from the tower to end the fight. His weighted cord curled around Crispus' neck, choking him silent.

Garric's left hand jerked Crispus back by the hair as he raised the club in his right. Crispus gave a strangled bleat. The Corl snarled and leaped the ten feet separating him from Garric, furious that the beasts were continuing to fight even after he'd immobilized the nearer one.

Garric's club slashed down. He wasn't quick enough to follow the cat man's action, but King Carus' instinct had allowed him to anticipate it. The business end of the club cracked the Corl's skull.

Garric jerked the stone-headed axe from the warrior as he convulsed. Crispus began to thrash also; the cord in the Corl's right hand was tightening on his neck. Garric didn't have either the time or the inclination to worry about that. He hadn't been thinking, just reacting as Carus would've reacted. That was the reason he was still alive.

He drew in a deep breath and sneezed violently: the longhouse was on fire. Flames curled out of the transom, and the wet thatch was gushing smoke.

Donria ran out of the front door of the building. She held the sticks and cord the Bird had appeared with. Linked as they were now, Garric recognized a fire bow. He'd seen others light a fire by friction when flint and steel weren't available, though he'd never had occasion to do it himself.

"Come, Garric!" she cried. "There's a hole at the back of the stockade!"

"But-" Garric said, then turned to follow Donria. Action might save him; argument certainly wouldn't.

A glitter at the corner of his eye drew his attention as he ran. The Bird whirled out of the smoke with a tag of burning mattress in its claws. It dipped to set the fire under the eaves of Torag's longhouse, then sparkled through the white billows to join Garric and Donria as they fled.

The sun was just below zenith when the gigs and the soldiers guarding them pulled up in the plaza behind the palace. Tenoctris hadn't spoken on the way back except for brief, vague replies to the few questions Sharina'd asked. Though the wizard's eyes were on the horse and the road before them, her mind was obviously other places.

Sharina'd ridden in silence most of the way also. It seemed likely that whatever Tenoctris was considering was more important than answering questions about Double and the hellplants that Sharina suspected didn't have real answers.

A groom gripped the horse's cheekpiece. Two Blood Eagles reached up for Tenoctris, but Sharina helped the old wizard dismount herself. She was a princess and for the moment regent of the kingdom, but that didn't mean she couldn't lend a hand to a friend.

"Your highness!" said Lord Martous, bustling toward her-and stopping at the line of guards. "Lady Merota and her caretakers were nowhere in the palace, nowhere at all! One of the servants thought they'd gone down to the harbor so I've sent for them, but they're not here yet!"

"I'm sure they're coming," Sharina said. "When they arrive, direct them to my suite. Double-"

She used the simulacrum's name for itself. It was accurately descriptive, and they had to call the creature something.

"-will be in the adjacent workroom."

"I wouldn't want you to think I'd disobeyed your request to summon the parties!" the chamberlain said. He put enough high-pitched anxiety in his voice to make it sound as though he were reporting a disaster. Just as well he wasn't delivering dispatches from Calf's Head Bay. "As soon as your note arrived, I-oh! Here they come!"

"Yes, thank you, milord," Sharina said, turning to smile at her friends as they approached the paved walkway beside the palace. Chalcus smiled back and gave Merota, hanging from his arm, a delighted twirl. Ilna's lips curved slightly, which was quite cheerful for her.

"We're loyal citizens of the kingdom here on First Atara!" Martous said determinedly. "You have but to request-"

By the Lady's mercy, will the man never shut up? Sharina thought. Aloud she said sharply, "Milord, speaking of requests-I requested that the remains of the pyre be cleared off the plaza here. The work doesn't appear to have been started."

When the pyre collapsed, some of the hurdles had fallen clear of the flames and broken open when they hit the ground. That was merely messy, but the ashes swirling from the great pile in the center smutted everything. If it rained, they'd mix with the dirt in a gray, clinging mass.

"Ah," said the chamberlain in a muted voice. "Ah, the truth is, your highness, that since King Cervoran, ah, regained consciousness on the pyre, the common people have tended to keep their distance. I'm afraid they're a superstitious lot, you know. Perhaps your soldiers could take a hand?"

"I'm afraid the kingdom has better use for the royal army just now," Sharina said, feeling a sudden chill as she heard her own words. It put Double's equation too clearly into focus: the kingdom would run out of soldiers before the sea ran out of weed.

Chalcus shifted Merota to his left hand, putting her between him and Ilna at the same time he made sure Double would have to go through him to get to the women. The sailor was still smiling, but he's survived by being a careful man.

"The Heron's been repaired, your highness," he said with a sweeping bow that kept his eyes on Double, hitching his way toward them from the other gig. "Just a matter of replacing some scantlings and cleaning her, you see. Would you have called us to take her off somewhere?"

"I have need of you," Double said. His swollen lips were formed in a smirk, though that might've been a chance of his condition like the unpleasant voice he shared with Cervoran. "Ilna, you will come with me onto the roof of the palace and view the sea."

"We'll all view the sea, then," said Chalcus heartily. He set his knuckles on his hipbones and stood arms akimbo, grinning falsely. "I dare say I've more experience of looking at the sea than any two other folk within bowshot, not so?"

Double looked at him. "I have other uses for you and the child Merota," he said. "There is a tapestry in my Chamber of Art. There are animals woven into the pattern of the maze. You must count those animals, both of you, and come to me on the roof when you are sure of their number."

"That'll be easy!" Merota cried, looking up at Chalcus in delight. He was exchanging glances with Ilna; both of them showed hints of concern under studiously blank expressions.

"I don't need a chaperone to look at waves," Ilna said with sudden brusqueness. "Tenoctris, will you be with us, or...?"

"I was planning to examine Lord Cervoran's library again," the old woman said. "Though I could join you if-"

"No," said Ilna. "I'd rather you were with Merota and Master Chalcus. I haven't had time to look over that tapestry properly, but it does more than just keep drafts from coming through the walls. I'm not sure...."

"Count your waves, dear one," said Chalcus. He leaned forward, miming an attempt to kiss Ilna's cheek. She jerked back in scandalized surprise as he must've known she would; that broke the tension in general smiles. "Lady Merota and I will count woven beasts the while. We'll see who has the more fun, will we not?"

Quite a number of clerks, aides, and couriers were gathering just beyond the line of guards, waiting to talk with Sharina. The number was growing the way a lake swells behind a dammed stream. Lord Tadai was keeping the civilians in his department under tight control, but a number of the military personnel-particularly the younger nobles-would start raising their voices for attention shortly.

"Lord Tadai," Sharina said. "I'll begin seeing petitioners in my suite as soon as I get up there. Please determine the order of audience among civilians at your best discretion. And who's the ranking military officer present?"

Three men-a cousin of Lord Waldron, a regimental commander, and the deputy quartermaster-all spoke at once, then stared at one another in confusion. "Very well," Sharina went on, jumping in before the soldiers could sort matters out, "Lord Tadai, take charge of the ordering all the petitioners."

She grinned at Tenoctris and said, "Let me give you my arm. I'm going to be regent for the next I-don't-know-how-long, so I'd like to be Tenoctris' friend Sharina till we get up to the second floor."

Tenoctris laughed as they walked along in a cocoon of Blood Eagles. The petitioners-the smarter ones, anyway-had turned their attention to Lord Tadai so the guards didn't even have to shove their way through a crowd.

Sharina grinned at human nature: some of the black-armored soldiers probably regretted not having the chance to knock civilians down. That didn't make them bad men, exactly, but it was fortunate for the kingdom that they'd been smart enough to find duties where external discipline controlled their aggressiveness.

On this side of the palace a broad staircase led to the royal suites. Sharina helped Tenoctris up the left-hand flight to the king's apartments and into the Chamber of Art, then walked through to the suite she was using. Tenoctris glanced at the tapestry on the shaded wall before going to the bookcase. Her steps were as purposeful as those of a robin hunting worms in the grass.

Several of Lord Tadai's ushers were already in the Queen's Suite, arranging tables and notebooks for the influx of petitioners who'd be coming up the interior stairs. They nodded respectfully to Sharina but went on with their work. Tadai had sent them ahead with his usual efficiency. He and Waldron were as different as two rich male aristocrats could be-save in their ability and their sense of honor.

"Shall I close this, your highness?" said a Blood Eagle officer at the door to the Chamber of Art.

Sharina opened her mouth to agree, then heard Chalcus and Merota calling back to Ilna as they entered the chamber. A recent brick extension continued the outside stairs to the roof. The palace didn't have a roof garden but Cervoran must've found the tiled surface useful, perhaps for viewing the stars.