The Right Hand of God (22 page)

'Take it,' Leith said. 'Pick it up. If you can. Then take leadership of the Company and do what you will with us.' He sat back and watched the man's eyes carefully.

For an instant they hollowed out, as though two passages had opened into a cavern at the dark centre of the world. Then they changed again, became hooded, and the Arkhos laughed.

'Grown a lot, haven't you,' he acknowledged. 'You know I can't touch it. You know that I want to.' The wheezing voice was heavy with bitterness.

'Then swear allegiance to me. Swear on the Arrow. Do service to this City, to this land, that might make up in part for the things you have done.'

'And the alternative?'

'If you will not make a contribution to the care and protection of Faltha, you will be tried and judged for your crimes,' Leith said. 'No one knows of the offer I am making you now. Will you swear?'

The Arkhos of Nemohaim held his gaze, saying nothing, but a shrewd look slowly settled on his face. Leith waited, disconcerted, feeling that somehow the knowing silence was draining his authority.

The obese man smiled. 'Certain things become clear to me. Your older brother has exercised mercy against all advice, to good effect. He befriended the Maghdi Dasht warrior, turning his heart. Others would have used him, then had him put to death out of fear. I would have. Your older brother now has a powerful weapon at his disposal. And you now wish to emulate him?'

'Why are we talking about my brother?' Leith snapped angrily. 'And why do you keep saying that he's older?'

'Is he not? Forgive me if I am mistaken.' The smile became wider.

'What does that have to do with it? Will you serve me, or not?'

'Is that really the question?' The Arkhos appeared to be struggling to contain his mirth.

'Should you not be asking why you wish to copy your crippled older brother?'

'I wish no such thing! My feelings are my own concern!' But even though he was not touching it, the Arrow flared briefly, betraying him.

'Is that so? Then why are you here, unless it is to prove you are his equal in intellect, in compassion, in wisdom, in power? Why am I here, unless it is to make me your servant in the same way the Bhrudwan is his?'

He's taunting me, he's taunting me, Leith knew, but he could not formulate any way of rebutting the Arkhos. There he sat, with the power of the world at hand, completely powerless in the presence of this man.

Because he spoke the truth.

'Now things are clear between us,' the Arkhos of Nemohaim continued. 'I know you better than you know yourself. In spite of what I have said, you will continue to deny it to my face.

Ah well, let me consider your offer. You

will never make a tame pet of me. I will not perform like a trained dassie so you can convince your friends and family of your worth. Perhaps there is nothing I can do for you.'

'I won't beg you, but I won't kill you either,' Leith said, his voice strained with the effort of keeping it level, free from betraying emotion. 'I need advice, and you might be able to help.

Go and think about it. If by this time tomorrow you cannot swear to my service, I will have you sent for trial.'

Slowly, insolently, the Arkhos of Nemohaim stood, pushing himself up from the table, his eyes never leaving those of the Arrow-bearer. 'Having access to power does not make you powerful,' he whispered, then left the pavilion.

Leith watched him go, feeling very young, wanting desperately to ask the voice of the Arrow what to do, but afraid.

Graig burst in to the tent to find him slumped over the table, head in his hands. 'My lord, my lord Leith!' he cried, startling the young man out of wherever his mind had taken him. 'Come quickly! There are people here to see you!'

'Bring them here,' Leith said wearily. 'Bring them to the pavilion.' Graig left the tent before Leith realised he had not asked who the people were.

He found out soon enough. In came six cloaked and hooded figures, with two of the Instruian Guards as escorts. 'Graig! Graig!' he shouted, suddenly aware that these guardsmen had weapons, when all were supposed to be weaponless.

'No need,' said one of the figures, throwing back his hood to reveal steely grey hair and deep brown eyes. 'We are not here to harm you. Even if we were, I am not certain we could, if all I hear around this City is true.'

'I remember you!' Leith said, astonished. 'You sat beside me at the evening banquet, at the palace of the King of Deruys. Why are you here and not with the king?'

The man nodded soberly. 'I am here at his request,' he said. 'The king sent me to Instruere to replace the previous Arkhos of Deruys, who was put to death by Deorc. I deceived the Bhrudwan into thinking I had betrayed my king.' He smiled then, and the sight of it chilled Leith's blood, for it held a menace for his king's foes. 'With me are five other Arkhoi who believe the betrayal has gone far enough. We are here to turn over the rule of the City to your Company and, with it, the remainder of the Instruian Guard. It must be said that not all of the Arkhoi here are entirely innocent, but with your agreement we seek to exchange the keys to the Four Halls for your pardon. Only by paying this small price will you achieve control of the City without bloodshed.'

'And with it, the chance to leave for the Bhrudwan borders even earlier than we had planned!'

Graig cried. 'That's why I let them in. It seemed too good a chance to miss!'

Without thinking, Leith formed a question in his mind, and was about to ask the voice, but caught himself just in time. Who cares what the voice thinks, he admonished himself. This will be certain evidence 1 am worthy to hold the Arrow. He knew the thought was wrong, but he was still angry over what the Arkhos of Nemohaim had said.

'Very well then,' he said. 'You will swear allegiance to' the Jugom Ark. No doubt you've heard stories of what it can do to those who try to deceive it.' Actually, Leith thought, it has done nothing but help and heal. He said nothing of this as the six Arkhoi knelt and swore.

Just then the Company began to file into the pavilion, readying themselves for their evening meal. Leith tried to explain who these people were, what he had done, what it might mean to them, but even to his ears it sounded as

though he had acted thoughtlessly, without asking the others.

As he finished his explanation, in walked the Arkhos of Nemohaim. The six Arkhoi froze as one man.

'Leith, oh Leith,' his mother said, in the moments before the shouting began. 'What have you done?'

THE STRUGGLE WAS BRIEF. No one suffered serious injury, but it was a close thing. As soon as the Arkhos of Nemohaim entered the pavilion he was recognised by four of the Arkhoi - Haurn, Plonya, Deuverre and his own replacement, the new Arkhos of Nemohaim -

and the other two were not far behind in drawing their conclusions, then their swords. They were joined by the two guardsmen who had accompanied them, and for a moment it seemed the Arkhos of Nemohaim would be slain. Someone made a lunge. No one was sure who it was and, as it missed, there was no point pursuing the matter, but at that moment Achtal the Bhrudwan strode into the tent armed only with a staff, deflecting blows aimed at the Arkhos, who appeared to be making no effort to defend himself. A few moments of blurred motion and half-a-dozen Arkhoi were left holding bruised arms and hands, and their swords lay on the floor. Bitter curses hung in the air.

'What is happening?' Leith cried into the sudden stillness. Every head in the tent turned in his direction.

Surprisingly, it was the Arkhos of Nemohaim who answered him, an avid gleam in his eye.

'Someone has not thought

things through,' he said, directing his disconcerting gaze at Leith. 'Someone who would privately entertain members of the Council of Faltha and not plan against the chance of them discovering their former leader walked free and unrestrained.'

'Ungently put, but accurate,' Kurr said. 'Leith, if you had informed us that the Council of Faltha had come calling, we would at least have ensured the Arkhos of Nemohaim was kept apart from them.'

'What is that man doing here?' the Arkhos of Plonya asked through lips thin with anger. 'He should be made to answer to the Council of Faltha for his deeds!'

'You are hardly in any position to make demands,' Mahnum replied quietly. 'You are here to surrender, if Leith's explanation is correct.'

'Not quite,' said the Arkhos of Deruys pleasantly. 'There is a delicate balance to be obtained here. A number of my fellow councillors are guilty of reprehensible crimes, treason not the least, which might cost them their freedom or even their lives, depending on the mercy of the new rulers of the city. I myself am not entirely innocent, according to the law; although I acted on the orders of my king, and remained loyal to Faltha at all times. We turn the City over to you, but do not surrender ourselves. Is the distinction clear? Some here might want to make a swift journey home to their king on their fastest horse, while others might want to avoid such a journey. I do not know. But none want to find themselves in The Pinion.'

'What prevents us from making you captives and dispensing justice as we see fit?' Maendraga wanted to know.

'I would have thought honour might prevent such a betrayal. Or if not honour, common sense would suggest that

receiving the keys to the Four Halls and being granted the allegiance of the Instruian Guard, both of which require our cooperation, might be worth consideration.'

Maendraga nodded. 'Please excuse my shortsightedness. Leith is not the only thoughtless one here today. We have been many weeks on the road, and have taken little rest since we came to this city.'

Leith wanted to protest, to say something that might wrest some control back for himself, but circumstances had run away from him. He risked a glance at Hal, and discovered that his older brother was gazing at him with something akin to compassion on his face. He'd seen that look many times before. He remembered it, for example, when he'd been wrongly accused of breaking the shutters on Malos's kitchen window, Hal had sat opposite him while their father gave him a telling off. There was a clear message on Hal's face that day. I know what you're going through, it said, and it is undeserved. Not pity, exactly; more a knowing, understanding, sympathetic look. Nothing Leith could think of at the moment could have made him angrier. Something of this must have been reflected on his face, because Hal turned away suddenly, a hurt look clouding his features.

Geinor and the Escaignian woman had been busy organising the evening meal, and began serving the others as the discussion continued. Hal ventured a rare opinion: as Leith expected, he supported the idea of accepting the Council's offer and letting them go where they might.

'After all, had we been offered this choice four months ago, we would have accepted it without question,' he said. Mahnum and Perdu were disinclined to agree, worrying about the possibility of further treachery. But, as Kurr reminded them, their victory over the remnants of the Instruian Guard was by no means

assured, and even if it was to be achieved, would be bought at a great cost. 'Doing the Destroyer's work,' was how the old farmer summed up the consequences of rejecting the Council's offer.

The Escaignian woman spoke up. 'What of the other Council members? There are sixteen of you: what happened to the others?' The slim, round-faced woman had said very little since their return to the Great City. According to Indrett, she suffered the frustration of separation between herself and her family still in Escaigne. Though they were undoubtedly close by, she could not make contact, as the normal entry points were boarded over.

But with these words she occasioned groans from a number of the Company. 'How could we have been so foolish?' the Haufuth said. 'What were we thinking? Six cannot speak for sixteen!'

'There are no longer sixteen,' said the Arkhos of Nemohaim, the former leader of the Council.

'There were not sixteen even before I left. There will be fewer now. Associating with such as Deorc the Bhrudwan has a way of whittling down the numbers until only the fittest, most ruthless - or luckiest - survive. How is my old friend Deorc, anyway? Is he asking after me?

Does he approve of your negotiations?' His piggy eyes pierced his former fellow councillors.

'The fat man is right,' said the Arkhos of Plonya, directing a baleful stare at him. 'Much has happened since his poor judgment led us, and the City, away from the path of wisdom. Let me tally it for you!' He held up the fingers of both hands, and began counting them off. 'Twenty men have served on the Council of Faltha since Nemohaim recruited those he

*** his "Patriots" two years ago. Sarista was assassinated, first fruits of betrayal, he and his family and all his servants, at this man's direct order. Then followed Asgowan, who sided with Deorc and was denounced by Nemohaim because of it.

We all watched Deorc torture and kill him, and though he deserved it, his death was unpleasant to behold. The four remaining loyalists were executed, burned at the stake, and their deaths can also be charged to Nemohaim's account. Deruys, Redana'a, Sna Vaztha and Piskasia. They died well, unlike Asgowan, but were accorded no dignity: Nemohaim ordered their ashes scattered into the sewers. Then, of course, the Arkhos of Nemohaim himself was driven out of the City after the Escaignian fiasco; driven out, I repeat, no matter how much he might claim he left of his own accord.

'Three Patriots - Firanes, Favony and Vertensia - perished when the blue fire raged out of control just a few hours ago, when Deorc was forced to report his failure to his master. Ten councillors eliminated, ten to go.' He closed his fingers into two fists, then opened them again.

'I do not know what Deorc said or did to offend his Bhrudwan masters. I'm not sure any of us understood what happened with the blue fire. I know I was uncomfortable with it. Some kind of dark wizardry. In my opinion those who tamper with such powers deserve their fate. And that is what happened, for Deorc also perished in the fire.'