The Silent Army (13 page)

“It’s a brilliant tactic. I’d have never considered it, but the end result is that the people who are trying to survive without proper housing are very anxious and we’ve had to break up several attempts by mobs to take over buildings.”

Cullen shot a look his way.

“Oh, please. No. We cannot take them into the palace. Believe it or not, there aren’t enough rooms. Most of them are already being used to store food and supplies. The palace is very large, but it is not a city in itself. The barracks of soldiers have been given to the refugees and that means weapons and soldiers alike are kept here. We were not anticipating having a city lift into the air, nor were we considering how cold it would be up here or that half the city would be left behind. Believe me, there are many things we never once considered.”

Desh Krohan paused for a moment as he fumbled a key from his pocket. A moment later the door was opened to her new chambers. They were a vast improvement, with a large bed, a window and a roaring fire. There was a door. It was currently barred from the inside.

“All of this?” Cullen could barely believe it.

Deltrea spat. “How is this even a little fair? I’m dead before I can see a sight like this, and you’re still going strong.” It was Cullen’s turn to make a gesture.

“Through that door, to the right, you will find a small dining room. There is fresh fruit. There is bread. If you wish to join us for dinner you are welcome.”

“Thank you. For all of this.” It was all she could think to say.

“Stay safe. You carry a great burden. Please honor that responsibility.”

A moment later he was gone.

Deltrea shook her head and strolled around the chamber, which, to be fair, was larger than the entirety of both their homes back in Trecharch.

“This royalty thing pays well enough.” Deltrea walked over to look out the window and Cullen blinked hard, unsettled because she could see through the form of her friend. The light was too bright through the window and Deltrea cast no shadow. In the woods, in a cell, it was easier to ignore that fact.

Cullen joined her at the window and immediately understood the need for the fire. The ground outside was covered in a thick rime of frost. The trees were coated; the lawn below was white. The buildings were iced over. Small wonder so many fought for decent shelter. Certainly it wasn’t a gathering of assassins causing the grief. Just desperate people.

The wall around the palace kept out many more people. No one was foolish enough to try storming the structure, but they were near it as if seeking shelter from the cold.

In the far distance she could see the Mid Wall. Beyond that were only blue skies and, far away but, she had no doubt, coming closer, the mountains.

There were so many people, more than she had ever seen in one place before and the sight of them hurt her head. Cullen crawled into the depths of the bed, warm and secure and despite Deltrea’s comforting presence, still scared of what lay ahead.

Three short thrusts into the screaming man’s belly as she ducked past, and Jost knew he was already dead, though he screamed on.

That was the thing about the people of the city. They screamed about everything. This one roared that he had fresh meat and people came to him looking at what he offered and hoping it would truly be fresh. It was not. Still they came.

So Jost did them a favor and killed him. Truly that was coincidence. She merely did not like his voice.

When he stopped screaming about fresh meat he screamed for a different reason. So did the people around him as he fell to his knees and took his table down in the process.

The markets were the easiest place to cause panic. They were also the easiest place to kill a lot of people with little effort.

The onlookers backed away from the bleeding man and Jost moved on. Her eyes scanned the area for the next target. The ones that made the most noise or who reacted with violence were the best for stirring the crowd.

It was easier to hide now. The air was so cold that everyone was wearing coats or dressing in shawls or cloaks. Skin reddened in the chill and most everyone huddled down on themselves for warmth.

They did not look up or around as she moved among them.

Her blade cut a woman across the back of her leg, severing tendons. The woman screamed in pain and fell backward as she lost the use of her leg, and Jost danced back, away from the blood spray. Dark clothes alone could not hide the steam that rose from a fresh stream of blood.

The hand that came for her was impossible. Still, it came and she dodged.

Jost looked at the stone wall and watched with fascination as a man walked out of it. He was the same color as the stone, as were his clothes.

She had heard of the Silent Army, but she had not seen one in motion before. They had always been standing still when she passed. A few had changed positions when her eyes were turned but this was different. This was actual motion.

The stone man reached for her once more and Jost stepped back. Her hand tried to block him, but with no real result. He was made of stone. She could not force his arm to move.

“Wrommish!” she called to her god as the thing continued reaching for her.

If the statue moving shocked her, it did far worse to the people in the crowd. They had not fled the dead as quickly as they did the moving stone soldier.

Jost blocked a hand that grabbed at her again, this time with her dagger. There was a scraping noise and the hand was pushed aside, enough for her to avoid it, but there was no blood drawn.

Lifeless eyes turned to look at her. The face of the stone man shifted and the mouth curled into a sneer.

Jost backed away again, fully aware of the people around her and how they were retreating.

The fourth attempt to grab at her met with success. The hand that caught Jost’s elbow was as hard as rock, and despite her best efforts to twist away, there was no give. There was no heat. The moving stone was as cold as the wall it came from.

The hand held her tight and the powerful arm pulled her forward. Jost was a fighter. She had been trained in combat since she could walk, but she was not made of stone. Her fists did no good against this opponent. She moved her body in an effort to lock his joint, but it was useless. On any human being she had ever met the move would have broken the offender’s elbow and likely driven bone into meat, but here the end result was the same as if she was hanging from a rock outcropping on Wrommish’s heights. She effectively swung herself around on that arm and then found herself pinned to the wall. The soldier needed do no more.

Jost kicked, she struggled, she attempted to cut one finger at a time from the stone hand, but it was useless.

The Silent Soldier slammed her into the wall three times as she fought back. The third time she was knocked senseless. By the time she recovered enough to consider struggling, she had been bound by heavy leather straps and metal chains.

The City Guard were taking no chances.

The soldier held her until they were done.

And for the first time in all the battles, the Fellein had a prisoner of war.

The meal was wonderful. The food was always satisfactory, but this was an extravagance. Dretta had cooked chicken she had likely paid far too much for, and the meat was perfectly seasoned.

Before they ate, they made love. That was even better than the meal. By the time they’d eaten most of the bird, feasted on the fresh bread and cheese and fruit, Merros wanted nothing more than to make love a second time and then sleep in the arms of the most amazing woman he’d ever met.

Naturally, the world interrupted.

Though Merros did not advertise where he went, it was hardly a secret. By the time they’d finished their meal and the conversation that went along with it – and how was it that any person could be so endlessly fascinating? There was nothing she said that he did not want to hear – one of the messengers from the palace had come to interfere.

The business of war waited for no one, and most assuredly not the man in charge of the Empire’s forces.

Dretta looked at him with her dark, deep eyes and waited patiently. He looked back and was torn. There was excitement, but there was also guilt when he looked at her. She was an amazing lover. She was the widow of his best friend. There were so many levels of wrong in what they did that Merros could never hope to untangle them all. And he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

“What is it you are thinking about, Merros?” She reached for the bread and wiped some juices from her platter. Gods, she could even make eating fascinating and erotic.

He shook that thought away. It was just food and he was as lusty as a teenager around her.

“We have had good fortune it seems.” He smiled.

“Have the Sa’ba Taalor suddenly surrendered?”

“I said good fortune, not an act of the gods.” He still smiled. “We have captured one of the Sa’ba Taalor.”

“Have you then? Was it the one who killed Wollis?”

“I don’t know yet. I haven’t seen who, but I must go now, Dretta. We have to find out what we can.” He did his best to sound apologetic, but inside surges of adrenaline were kicking around. The thought that they might be able to actually learn something from one of the gray-skins was nearly intoxicating.

Dretta stood and nodded. She even offered a tiny smile. “Go. Take care of what you must, but be careful. I have heard too many tales from you of how dangerous they are.”

“I will be very careful indeed, milady. I will also let you know if I learn anything of Wollis’s killer.”

She moved close and hugged him for a moment that was not long enough by far. And then she stepped back and spread her arms. “The gates here are always open to you.”

He smiled at that. The very notion warmed him. She warmed him, despite the cold weather and the frost.

It was a short ride to the palace and the guards at the gates let him in. He smiled at them and headed immediately for the Empress’s throne room, where, as he expected, several people already waited.

Desh Krohan looked his way and smiled tightly. “I do not believe it is Swech, but I recognize her. She was among the first of them that we met. One of your ten, I believe.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. It also explains how she has evaded being captured until now. They were very skilled.”

“I don’t think we’d have captured her, but the Silent Army interfered.”

“Truly?”

Nachia responded, “Had her pinned to the stone wall and wouldn’t let her go until the City Guard secured her. Then the soldier moved back into the wall and slipped up to the top again.”

“How many dead this time?” It had become a problem, and a serious one. The attacks tended to leave a dozen or more dead every day and the resulting chaos had rendered more and more people too injured to care for themselves.

“Only three by the assassin’s blade.” The man who spoke was one he’d met before and one he still didn’t much like. Darsken Murdro was one of the Inquisitors. They were unsettling people with methods that Merros was never going to be comfortable with. True, the tales might only be tales, but he didn’t like the notion that whoever was going to be questioned would be left to the likes of the man across the room from him.

Murdro continued, “When the statue moved and attacked, the panic that resulted left two more dead. They were trampled.”

Desh spoke up, “We’d discussed the possibilities of a curfew.”

Murae Pellinger, the man who currently led the City Guard, cleared his throat and looked toward Merros before speaking. Technically the man had the same rank as Merros, but the reality was that Pellinger was only in charge for as long as Merros tolerated him. Nachia had appointed the general head of all military forces and that included the City Guard. Pellinger understood that and was doing an excellent job in his position.

Pellinger said, “We can enact a curfew, but there is nowhere for these people to go. They’ve made shelters for themselves in tents or on bedrolls. They’re curling up in piles to stay warm at night.”

“I know we wanted families to have homes to themselves in this situation, but is it possible to add more people to some of the places that have been offered?”

Pellinger nodded. “Some will allow it. Most will do it if they are told to, but while there are several people who have been generous with their properties, there are many more who have offered no concessions and are charging monies that few can afford.”

“Who is the new Minister of Lands?” Nachia spoke and they all looked her way.

“Arlo Lancey, Majesty.”

Nachia nodded and leaned back. She was in her throne and leaning to one side. With a wince she rose and walked away from the seat. She shot a withering look at Desh Krohan and said, “Fix that.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to.” For one moment only, he smiled at her.

She glared and he stared back frostily, with a small smirk. Merros had no idea what they were talking about and tried to bring the conversation back around. “We were discussing the land minister?”

“Arlo Lancey. Old blood. Old money. We should bring him in to discuss how badly his world will fall apart if he doesn’t find shelter for more people.”

“Majesty?” Pellinger looked her way, frowning.

“Come now, Murae, you know better than that. Arlo is new in his position. Bring him here. Try to make it happen soon.”

“What happened to the previous minister?”

Darsken Murdro answered, his voice low and reserved. He had a thin smile on his face, and while he was pleasant, Merros couldn’t bring himself to like the man. “He was found a few weeks ago with his throat cut, not far from the docks. Someone killed him and four of his bodyguards.”

Nachia asked, “No one was ever captured?”

Murdro looked to the Empress and lowered his head. “The people I spoke to could only tell me that it was a woman who did the killings and that she was dressed in black and kept her face hidden.”

“So, Sa’ba Taalor.” That was Desh. Nachia and Merros nodded at the same time.

“Likely, yes. When we talk to the one you have locked away we might find out more.”

“I would like to be there when you speak to her, Inquisitor Murdro.” Merros spoke calmly and looked at the other man.