What Lies Within (Book 5) (13 page)

   Vos nodded, gulping.
'My lord.'

   He saluted then, and turned and departed.

   Fectur had considered a moment more. No, he could not run the risk of Vos being taken by the Karai. There was too much he could tell them. Gordallith's orders were essentially unchanged; he knew what he must do, and would certainly be most anxious not to make any more mistakes. Fectur tugged upon a tasselled rope which descended from the ceiling against one wall. Some moments passed, then there was a sharp rap upon the door. At Fectur's command a man entered, a cadre agent, thickset and scarred upon cheek, nose and chin, wearing no uniform. He saluted smartly.

   'Vos thinks to leave us,' Fectur said. 'His motives are not concordant with my own. He must be stopped. Be discreet.'

   'Do you wish to see him again, my lord?'

   Fectur gave a single shake of his head. 'He has failed me.'

   The cadre agent saluted again and marched from the office.  Fectur returned to his desk.
Gordallith, you fool!

   He had brooded.
Does Fate truly play games with me? Are there forces at work here that I cannot comprehend?

   It had all been going so well. He had believed Fortune was with him, Fate permitting him to play out his destiny.
His courting of the factions, King Leth's ill-advised overtures to the True Sept; the Queen's disappearance, Leth's continuing refusal to hear any voice but his own. In the end his removal from office had been almost effortless.

   And then King Leth had vanished.
Somehow. With his children. And the Queen had returned from the dead, professing ignorance of her family's fate when in fact, it had now become plain, she knew far more than Fectur himself! And incredibly, she, like the Karai, had acquired the patronage of one of the Highest Ones.

   Fectur clenched his fists hard upon the desktop. Pader Luminis had known the truth all along! He and the Queen, heads together, conspiring!

   And now, what was this Soul of the Orb that she and the god, Orbelon, sought in Enchantment? How did this link with what Fectur already knew?

   Fectur considered Mawnie, the Duchess Demawndella,
lying  stricken in her chambers. His best efforts had failed to draw information from her, though his instincts told him she had something to tell, something she had never disclosed about the terrible incident with her twin sister Ressa on Sentinel Peak. Could there possibly be a link with everything that was happening now?

   Fectur ground his teeth, feeling a tight, piercing pain behind his brow, feeling that his customary control was dangerously compromised, a murderous wrath welling within him. There had been no word from the True Sept. Two days earlier Fectur had released the prisoner, Iklar, from
his cell in the bowels of the Ministry of Realm Security and dispatched him with a message, back to Overlip and his Sept masters. The message was not complex. Iklar was simply to repeat what the Lord High Invigilate had told him: that King Leth had broken his promise to Grey Venger; that at Leth's behest Venger had been spirited from Enchantment's Reach by the Queen; that despite what they had claimed, neither the King nor Queen had direct access to the Legendary Child.

   Then Iklar was to speak further words. He was to inform his Sept masters that the Spectre had word of the Soul of the Orb. Finally, and crucially, he was to say, 'Another Soul. The Second Flame burns most brightly. All shadows are dispelled.'

   These final words were a mystery to Fectur. He had drawn them out of the Sept agent his men had intercepted attempting to make contact with the Karai. A pity he had not been caught later, as he left Prince Anzejarl, carrying the Karai response. But the risk of losing him altogether had been too great.

   What could the words mean? The man had whispered them into Fectur's ear on his dying breath. In his death delirium, racked with the agonies of Fectur's ministrations, he had perceived The Spectre as someone else. He had passed out of this world under the conviction that he had delivered his message as ordered. Had he lived longer he could have told nothing more, for Fectur was satisfied that the man would himself have been ignorant of the meaning of the message he carried.     

   Likewise Iklar, who was also a simple messenger, if perhaps a half rung higher than the dead agent. Fectur could but speculate. The words taunted and tantalized, almost connecting with what he already had, but in the end leaving him baffled. But they meant something to the High Priests of the Sept, that was certain. And they must also mean something to Prince Anzejarl.

   Issul's manouevres had prevented Fectur from testing the words on Grey Venger's ears, but Iklar had the means to return them to the True Sept's heart where, at this late stage, Fectur had been confident they would elicit a response in some form.

   Instead the Sept was unmoved. Fectur grew uneasy in the silence.

   Prince Anzejarl's army was at the walls. Most probably another Sept agent would have succeeded in delivering the coded message to him. 

   The mighty Spectre sat alone at his desk, the pain in his head persistent as he turned over and over in his mind the bald, brutal, undigestable fact that all of his enemies were better-informed than he.

iii

   The first attack came at midnight. It followed the pattern set earlier at Giswel
Holt, with the exception that here it took place under the cover of total darkness.

   The moon was a slender crescent concealed behind dense cloud, allowing the first wave of slooths to come in undetected, their numbers inestimable. Only at the last moment did the most alert of sentries catch the sinister beat of their heavy wings whacking the air, low like far off rhythmic thunder, despite their proximity. By then the slooths were already letting loose their cargo. Kegs and bladders filled with highly flammable oils dropped unseen through the quiet dark to smash open and
gush their contents onto roofs and streets.

   The second wave, coming almost immediately behind, drew a collective gasp from the city-castle's observers. They appeared suddenly out of the cloud, made visible only by the flaming brands they clasped in their talons.
A fiery shower, awful and spectacular to the eye, descending suddenly. There were dozens of them; scores, like plummeting stars.

   Bolts, arrows and larger missiles sped skywards in their hundreds. But already the firebrands were tumbling freely, the slooths themselves rendered invisible again by the night. Conflagrations flared suddenly in a hundred locations across Enchantment's Reach, but the enemy was gone. Not a single slooth had been brought down, and probably none were even injured.

   In the morning numerous smoke plumes still spiralled into the sky, blending quickly into the dense pall of cloud overhead. The flames had all been doused. First reports told of a dozen deaths: men, women and children trapped in their burning homes. A single soldier had also been killed, struck by a stray bolt from his own side. Several homes and business premises were gutted, as was a stable within Orbia palace, with the loss of three cavalry mounts.

   Pader Luminis called for immediate consultation with government and military heads. At the Table of Debate, Gursmaeden, in the Hall of Wise Counsel, the various ministers, knights and officiers gathered to hear assessments and voice concerns.

   Sir Grenyard spoke first, his eyes heavy for, like the others he had slept little. But his tone was defiant. 'Assaults of this nature will not bring Anzejarl the victory he craves. They are disruptive and sap morale, but if this is all he intends to put against us we can meet him without great loss or damage.'

   One or two others murmured tentatively in agreement. Pader Luminis was more circumspect. 'Let us not for a moment suppose that this is all he intends. It is the beginning, nothing more. As it is, Anzejarl can attack with virtual impunity, and with greater numbers of the winged-beasts than we had given him credit for. Must we suffer these attacks helplessly, or can we do something to blunt their effect?'

   'We will increase missile troops after dusk,' said another of the knights. 'But their effect is minimal. They are for the most part firing blindly.'

   'I also want all lights extinguished at dusk,' said Pader. 'This applies to everyone, within the Palace and without. Every window must be blacked out. Every lampglow serves to guide Anzejarl's beasts.'

   'Their vision is obviously effective in darkness,' said Sir Almric.

   'We do
n’t know how effective. Ensure that this is done. And I want the streets kept clearer, day and night. Soldiers and firefighters must be able to move rapidly from place to place without obstruction.'

   'The militia's work is cut out simply keeping the curious and fearful from the battlements,' observed Sir Almric acidly. 'Viewing the enemy has become the most popular pastime.'

   'Use whatever measures are necessary. I will not have our effectiveness compromised. And, all of you, we must be prepared for the unexpected. The slooth attacks may continue for many nights, but Prince Anzejarl has surely prepared long and hard for this day. He will choose his moments carefully but with method, and will be alert for any perceived chink in our armour.'

   'And what of him?' demanded Sir Grenyard. 'He sits his troops in a mass beneath the scarp, where they cannot get to us but neither can we get to them. But half-a-dozen light trebuchets sited upon the road above
Corran's Drop . . . aye, we would be directly over them. We could squash them like bugs.'

   Gravely, thinking again of Sir Hugo of Giswel Holt, Pader shook his head. 'How many would you kill?
A dozen? A score? Or would you be overrun before you could loose a single missile?'

   'The only approach to Corran's Drop from below is along one hundred yards of exposed road. Fifty arbelestiers and the same amount of pike and swordsmen could hold that position for several hours. The trebuchets would be dismantled and withdrawn long before the gem-eyes could get close.'

   But Pader was not to be moved. Military tactics was not his area of expertise, but surely, if Corran's Drop could be so easily defended, Leth would have left instructions? No, against an orthodox assault perhaps it would be effective. But against slooths? And somewhere out there, he reminded himself, were surely the troll-creatures. And what else? He would take no undue risks. He shook his head again. 'No. We remain within the walls. Corran's Drop, after all, is well within range of our engines here. If Anzejarl ascends to try to establish a position there we will send him flying, quite literally, will we not?'

   Sir Grenyard gave a nod. 'Aye, he could not hold the Drop.'

   'Good. Now, there remains the potential problem of the True Sept.' Pader turned to Lord Fectur. 'There is a real fear that they may rise to join the invaders. We must be alert for acts of sabotage and possible armed assaults within the walls. My own efforts to infiltrate Overlip have yielded virtually nothing. Have you had any success, my lord?'

   Fectur, who had been sitting hunched and silent, cast him a surly glance. 'I await news, but as yet there is nothing to report. Still, I have other news, concerning the Queen.'

   'The Queen?' Pader's head came forward. 'What news?'

   'Like her husband the King before her, she acted - not for the first time - without my knowledge and in defiance of my advice. Now it would appear she has discovered the cost of her foolishness.'

   'To what do you refer?' Pader demanded, both angry and anxious.

   'Queen Issul chose to smuggle Grey Venger from Enchantment's Reach,' accused
Fectur . 'She had him secretly accompany her on her journey of so-said 'salvation', which I now discover is a journey into Enchantment itself.'

   There were gasps and murmurs around the table. Fectur said, 'It is true. Were you aware, Lord Protector?'

   'The Queen told me what she believed I needed to know,' replied Pader in level tones, covering his dismay. 'Under the circumstances I could but concur with her.'

   'But you knew she was bound for Enchantment?'

   Pader hesitated. 'She indicated as much.'

   'And yet you also saw fit to keep such important information from the Master of Security. I, who am directly responsible for her
welfare?'

   Pader considered the black irony of this statement. He perceived also the direction in which Fectur was guiding his argument. 'What news have you received, my lord?'

   Fectur's eyes bored into him. 'That the Queen carries a special artefact, and seeks another within Enchantment. That she knows of a secret way that can take her there.'

  
To discover this his agents must have made contact with the Queen!
thought Pader with mounting alarm.
And Issul would never have given this information willingly. What has happened? What has he done?

   Quite suddenly Pader's worst fears were rising to overwhelm him. 'You spoke of the Queen discovering the cost of her 'foolishness'. What did you mean?'

   Fectur took his time before replying in a mordant voice, 'She took herself from Enchantment's Reach, telling no one but you where she was bound, with Grey Venger her prisoner, and accompanied by a force of only fifty fighting men. She showed such recklessness before, ignoring my advice and refusing to disclose her purpose, and almost lost her life as well as losing the lives of many good soldiers. This time, as then, had I been informed I would not have permitted her to leave with so small a guard.'