The Plains of Kallanash (45 page)

“The accused may rise,” said Dethin, as soon as he had brought the room to silence.

Dondro sat and sneered, of course, so two bulky warriors in full battle gear hauled him to his feet and held him upright.

“I find you guilty,” Dethin said without preamble. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Guilty? What of?”

“Does it matter?”

Dondro gaped at him. “What? What kind of justice is that?”

“The kind we learned from you people. The kind that condemns people to a lifetime of exile for the least transgression. The kind that shows no compassion. The kind that takes no account of circumstances. The kind that offers no hope of any better future. The kind that murders babies before they’ve taken a breath. Do you have any excuse for that?”

“That is for your own good!” he yelled. “You ignorant peasants, you deserve no compassion, but you get it anyway. You are murderers and worse, the shit of society, only fit to be thrown away, to keep you away from good people, but we do not condemn you to death. Oh no! We are kinder than that, so we send you here and you get another chance at life. And look what you do with that chance
– you truly become barbarians! Such a joke!” And he began to laugh, a rattling, hollow laugh that verged on hysteria.

The crowds watching were murmuring, but Dethin gazed at him in silence.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly, but there was a cool authority in his voice which quelled prisoner and audience alike. “I find you guilty of the crime of being an obnoxious little prick. Three days from now, you will be taken outside and publicly executed. If in the meantime you provide us with useful information, you will die by my sword, quickly and relatively painlessly. If not, the Commander may do whatever he wishes with you, which will probably be neither quick, nor painless. That’s what we call justice in these parts,
Most Revered
. Take him away.”

“You will rot in the Ninth Vortex for this!” Dondro shrieked as he was dragged out. “I shall see you dead, you bastard!”

“Unlikely,” Dethin murmured, as the shouts diminished into the distance, and then were drowned by cheers and excited chattering.

“Well, that was entertaining and no mistake,” Tanist said from his seat behind Mia. “You’re right, Hurst, he’s very good at this, but I’m glad he’s not in charge of the legal system everywhere. If we executed every obnoxious little prick, the population would be sadly reduced.”

~~~

Hurst had no wish to execute Dondro himself, quickly or otherwise, but there were many volunteers and he organised a tournament to select the lucky man. If Dondro gave them no useful information during his last days alive, the winner would be allowed to do as he pleased with him for a while, until his Captain decided to end the business. Anyone other than the Captains could enter, and it was surprising how many wanted to try for the chance to torment the prisoner. The winner was the compound’s blacksmith, a big, silent man known to everyone but close to none. He wouldn’t explain his antipathy to the Slaves, or what he planned to do to the prisoner, and just smiled when asked.

Dondro still refused to speak. He was alternately defiant and tearful, Hurst reported, and insisted that he would be looked for and rescue would arrive any day, but no one came down the tunnel to ask about him. Hurst set the time for the execution to just after the noon meal, and stipulated that he must be dead by nightfall, but otherwise set no conditions.

On the appointed day, Dondro was brought out and tied to a stake. He wore only his shirt and trousers, and Mia thought the bitter wind would not be the least of his grief. She watched from her bedroom window, and even from several floors up she could hear the high-pitched keening as he was dragged to his fate. Once the warriors melted into the huge watching crowd and the blacksmith began circling around his prey, she withdrew to the sitting room where at least she could see nothing. Even so, she still heard the screams, long spells of distress followed by ominous silence, then more screams, different, more agonised, desperate, further apart. Eventually, a single high-pitched shriek and then a more prolonged silence, and later, as dusk fell, a huge cheer.

Mia wept.

Three days after Dondro’s execution, the bell rang in the tunnel. Hurst geared up and led the way down the tunnel, but he knew no more warriors were expected at this time of year, so he wasn’t surprised to find two men, very similar in appearance to Dondro, waiting behind the gate, and no sign of men in shackles.

“Good day to you,” said Hurst. “No deliveries for us?”

“No… no, that is not why we are here,” one of the two said. “We are looking for – a colleague who came this way about three weeks ago.”

“A guide,” said the other. “He brought you some people.”

“Right. Yes, we had some new people – seven, I believe.”

“And the guide? He left here?”

“He dropped off his – erm, cargo, and set off up the tunnel,” Hurst said, carefully leaving out the part where Walst and Trimon had dragged him back again.

“So there was nothing unusual about the handover?”

“It all went fine from our point of view,” Hurst said, and couldn’t resist a grin. “Why, have you lost your man? Very careless.”

The two muttered together in low voices, then one said, “So he definitely left here?”

“Well, he’s not here now.” More muttering. “Do you want to come and have a look round, check behind the ale barrels and so forth? I’ll do my best to protect you, but I can’t absolutely guarantee your safety…”

“No, no,” they said in unison. “That will not be necessary.”

After more muttering, and some dark looks at Hurst, they turned and made their way back to the cart left a short distance away. Only after they had disappeared off into the darkness and the rumblings of the cart had died away did Hurst feel it was safe to allow the laughter to break out.

“We should have taken them,” Gantor said in disgust. “They might have been more talkative than the other one, you never know.”

“No,” said Hurst. “One of them disappearing can be put down to chance, but three would attract attention to us, and that’s the last thing we need just now. We have to keep our heads down, so that when we turn up at the Ring we take them by surprise.”

~~~

Tanist was in charge of planning their mission. There was much debate about whether it would be better to attempt it during the winter quiet, or wait until the spring.

“Once the tunnel builders have passed through,” Gantor said, “we’ll have several weeks of the quiet when the tunnels are likely to be free of other traffic.”

“Yes, but the Ring will be full to bursting when we get there,” Hurst argued, “and if we have to go above ground at any point, we’re likely to meet snow. Better to wait for warmer weather.”

Tanist asked everyone he could think of about the likely traffic in the tunnels outside the winter quiet period. Dethin was the most useful source, for although no written records were kept, he remembered in detail all the arrivals during his time as Commander of Sixth. The tunnel at Sixth connected directly to the Ring and the Upper Court there, where most of the serious crimes were tried, and there had been new groups arriving every month, to a uniform pattern. The Travelling Courts, on the other hand, were much less predictable, and there was no knowing when people might be coming through the tunnel at Third.

“So if we leave this until the spring,” Tanist said thoughtfully, “we simply won’t have any idea what might be waiting for us along the way. And you know, anyone we do meet, we’ll have to – get rid of.” He glanced at Mia. “Servants, anyway. And even prisoners – we can’t afford to have anyone popping above ground and bursting the seedpod. Our arrival has to be a surprise. At least during the quiet, we know everyone will be busy at the Ring. Then, when we get there, we can call a meeting and raise the Karningholders to our cause.”

“Do you think they’ll support us?” Hurst asked.

“There are plenty who are already unhappy with the way things are run, and the border Karningholders will be as shocked as I was to learn the truth about the barbarians. Then there are those who’ve lost kin to the arbitrary form of justice these bastards impose. If we tell them Mia’s story… and the Warlord’s – Crannor’s, too… Yes, I think they’ll support us. Enough, anyway. So that’s settled. We’ll leave as soon as the tunnel builders have passed through. Mind you, we’ll have to trot along a bit to make it before everyone disperses from the Ring, but with a small group it’s feasible.”

They would be no more than thirty altogether, travelling in two groups of fifteen, to avoid overloading the camp caves and in the hope that some would get through even if they encountered opposition.

“But that’s not very likely,” Tanist said breezily. “The guards at the Ring are armed only with pretty polished sticks, and their role is no more than ceremonial anyway. I never heard of them doing any actual training, so I doubt they’d know what to do with them. Besides, we have swords. The Silent Guards are confined to the temples. No, the only potential problem would be if the Slaves get wind of our intentions and set Skirmishers against us.”

“We can’t take on Skirmishers,” said Hurst in alarm.

“No, of course not. If that happens, we beat a very rapid retreat – out through the nearest Godstower and scatter into the swamps. Or if we’re above ground, dive back into the tunnel. But we do need to be able to open the Godstowers at ground level. Grappling ropes are all very well, but not exactly quick.”

“Once we’re on our way, we can have another look at the Godstowers,” Hurst said, “but we couldn’t find any sign of the door when we looked before, inside or out.”

“Hmmpf. Well, it won’t hurt to have fresh eyes on the problem. And everyone will need to understand how to open the gates,” Tanist went on. “Just in case we get separated.”

“You seem to be anticipating trouble,” Mia said, chewing her lip.

“It pays to be prepared,” Tanist said. “It’s part of Skirmisher training to know how to survive on your own. Now, let’s revise the basics. Warlord, tell me the three rules of offensive strategy.”

“Have a clear military objective, define a specific plan to achieve that, decide what direction to follow after the objective is attained.”

Hurst listened without comment. They had gone over it all twenty times already, with various different subsets of the thirty, but most were Skirmisher trained and absorbed the details effortlessly. Dethin, by contrast, had had barely a year’s training, and that many years ago, so Tanist pressed him more heavily. Mia and Tenya were included too, since they were both to go, and Tanist insisted they understand the plan as well as the men. Tenya grumbled about it, but Mia listened to everything intently, asking questions when she didn’t understand.

The plan was a simple one: to walk through the tunnel to the tower, and then take control of it from Those who Served the Gods. In deference to Mia’s wishes, they would try to avoid bloodshed there, but they were prepared to be ruthless. The tunnel was another matter. Anyone they encountered could alert the Slaves to the presence of Skirmishers, so they would have to be dealt with permanently. Travelling through the tunnel would be straightforward, but there was no way to anticipate what difficulties they might encounter at the tower itself. Different locks, defensive traps, armed guards
– anything might be awaiting them. Nor could they sit and wait for opportunity, as Hurst had done when travelling in the opposite direction. They had to break in quickly or abandon the attempt. That would be the greatest challenge.

Once they had secured their base at the tower, they would summon all the Karningholders to an assembly at the great lecture room in the scholars’ hall, the only place large enough for such a gathering, and explain the situation to them. Tanist was confident that enough would be convinced to secure them in power, but just to be sure, he had sent messages through Hilligor to his own Karning and Hurst’s and a few others he could depend on to support him. They would send a Hundred or two each to the barrens outside the Ring of Bonnegar, supposedly for training exercises, but ready to be summoned through to the Ring. Their job would be to quell any opposition, and ensure that all the ruling Slaves left the Ring. After that, Gantor assured them that the scholars already had a scheme in mind for an alternative form of leadership once the Slaves were removed from power, a situation they had been looking forward to and planning in great secrecy for many years.

One who would not be going with them was Jonnor. Hurst had argued at length for his inclusion, but Tanist was adamant.

“He’s too volatile altogether,” he said firmly, as they sat in Hurst’s office one afternoon. Outside a grey day had dissolved into ethereal streaks of pink and gold and ice blue, the wind almost still for once. Only Gantor was with them, sharing a jug of wine, the last of Hilligor’s gift.

“He’s been better since Zanikor and Cole arrived,” Hurst persisted. “And really, can we afford to leave three Commanders behind? I know them, we work well together, and Jonnor’s fine when he’s kept busy.”

“True enough, but he’s not terribly good at taking orders. We just can’t risk a temper tantrum in the confinement of the tunnel. It’s going to be difficult enough as it is. Walst, and so on.
And then there’s Mia…”

“What about Mia? She wouldn’t have a problem with him coming with us.”

“No, but
he
might find it a problem.” Hurst was mystified. “Look, there’s history – Mia, Jonnor, you…. There’s enough space here to keep things from boiling over, but in the tunnel – who knows what might happen? And then there’s the Warlord. You’ve managed things very well so far, and I don’t want to disrupt that. How
does
that work, by the way?”

“With Dethin? Fine.” Hurst couldn’t resist a grin.

“Seems bloody odd to me. Aren’t you jealous of each other?”

“No, not really.”

“Not
really
?”

“Not at all, then. It’s not as if she was off screwing him in secret, or anything.”

Gantor snorted, but Hurst couldn’t tell in the dusk gloom whether he was amused or derisive.

“But sharing a bed,” Tanist said. “That’s downright weird.”

Hurst laughed. “It’s good. Very good, actually.”

“But is she…” Tanist scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, does Mia care for him? Because
– he’s good looking, and all that, but he’s a strange one, isn’t he? Very cold.”

“He’s not as cold as you might think,” Gantor put in. “That’s just the cloak he wraps around himself.”

“True,” said Hurst. “He’s very fond of Mia. But whether she feels much for him – I don’t know, really. Hard to tell.”

Tanist grunted, and said no more.

~~~

The winter quiet began with the sounding of a different alarm in the tunnel. The warriors were required to close all the doors to the kitchens, storerooms and the big caverns down below and move everyone well away from the tunnel. Walst was fascinated, and keen to hide somewhere unobtrusive to see what was going on.

“You don’t want to do that,” said Ainsley at once. “Seriously. And don’t take it as a challenge, by all the Gods. They put something into the tunnel – into the air, it kills everything that breathes it. The rats from the water run – Gods, the smell is unbelievable and we can’t drink the water for a while.”

“Couple of men tried it once,” said Lukannis, the former Commander. “Hid in the kitchens so they could watch through peepholes in the doors. We found them stone dead.”

So they dutifully cleared the tunnels and closed all the doors, and the next day they found the big wooden doors separating the kitchens from the tunnel were firmly locked and barred. For several days carts could be heard rumbling by, and then silence fell again. It was the moment they had been waiting for.

They gave themselves two more days, in case of any unexpected late traffic, two days to make their final preparations and say their farewells. Dethin sent his Warlord’s symbols to Kestimar, relinquishing his position. Hurst wondered how much of a wrench it was for him, but he gave no sign of regret, and seemed content now to stay wherever Mia was. Hurst himself formally transferred the Commandership to Heddizan
– “A little later than you anticipated,” he said with a sheepish grin – and since Walst, Trimon and Ainsley were also leaving, there were several new Captains.

Heddizan felt obliged to send some gifts to Kestimar to acknowledge the new Warlord.

“Well, we have to keep on the right side of him for now,” he shrugged when Hurst expressed surprise. “Until you send word of a successful outcome, we’ll continue as usual, you know.”

It was traditional to send horses, warriors or women, or some combination. Heddizan had disapproved of Hurst’s casual way of increasing the number of women for the Captains, so he decided to send Mallissa. She was quite willing. She knew nothing of Kestimar himself, but she was happy to be the Warlord’s woman or, if he tired of her, to look after the Captains there.

“At least I’ll have my own room,” she told Hurst with her throaty laugh, “and the best of the resupply too. I’ll do very well there.”

In addition, Heddizan asked Hurst if he would mind if he sent Jonnor.

“I can’t do anything with him,” Heddizan shrugged. “He’ll never accept my authority, but Kestimar’s one of you. A Karningholder. Well – he was, anyway, as he keeps reminding everyone. He won’t take any nonsense from Jonnor, and I’m happy to send the other two with him, to replace the two Dethin’s taking with him. Three warriors of a decent standard, and three horses, and a woman too – Kestimar will be well content with that.”