‘I am beyond his physical reach,’ Tayschrenn answered mildly.
‘Yet he is also a formidable mage, so I understand.’
‘In certain narrow and sharp applications, yes.’
The woman swung the stave across her shoulders, draped her arms over it. ‘And now?’
‘They will see that nothing can be decided here. It all lies upon Heng's walls, as before. And they will go.’
‘Before?’
Tayschrenn nodded, his eyes closed. ‘Yes. When the Protectress fell to Kellanved and Dancer everyone realized that no one was safe from them — all proceeded logically from that.’
The woman stood still for some time, head cocked as if listening. Tayschrenn's head sank lower, his breathing shallowed to imperceptibility. She stepped to the open door. ‘Do not involve yourself,’ announced the motionless Tayschrenn.
The woman froze, mouthed a silent curse. She set the stave against the wall. ‘Just going to keep an eye on things.’ She waited a time for an answer but none came. She cursed again and left.
Leaning against a street-side stall, Possum watched the ragged, exhausted column of Crimson Guardsmen enter the tall bronze doors of the Palace precincts. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry; was this it then? The much vaunted Guard? Had the stories over the years so grown in the telling? And what of Cowl? Had he survived?
A Hand-commander stopped at his side. One of the second echelon, vice-commanders. Coil was her name. ‘Anand wishes to know if he can count on us cooperating with the barricades.’
Possum leaned forward blocking one nostril to blow his nose to the street. ‘Yes. Seed the crowds. Tell everyone to keep their distance.’
‘Very good.’ Still, the woman did not move. She watched the outer gates swinging ponderously shut.
‘Yes, Coil?’
‘Hard to believe, yes?’
Irritated by the familiarity, Possum demanded, ‘What? That they returned? Or the condition in which they did? Or the chances that they should pick this time to show up?’
Coil did not turn to her head to glance to him. ‘Chance? I don't believe in it. And I don't take them.’
Coil glanced to him with her half-lidded hard eyes. ‘And these orders — from the Empress?’
The Hand-commander's tone quickened Possum's pulse. By the Queen's Mysteries, was she challenging his authority? ‘Immaterial. You've just heard them from me.’
Smiling, Coil inclined her head in the shallowest of bows, and sauntered away. Possum watched her go. Why so bold? No need to advertise what everyone in the ranks understands — that all those beneath you think they can do a better job, and are ever watchful for opportunities to demonstrate such by ousting said superior.
Blowing his nose once more, Possum dismissed Coil from his mind. She'd been merely angling for news of the Empress. No need to tell her he'd searched the Palace earlier and found no sign of her; sensibly, she'd run off. No point being disappointed about it. What could she be expected to do against some fifty Avowed and seven hundred Guardsmen? Bravely face them only to be captured? Reduced thereafter to a hostage or mere bargaining chip? What would be the sense in that? No, to Possum's way of thinking she'd done the wise thing. Let the Guard blunder like clod-footed fools through the Palace. What did they expect? To just sit on the throne and be obeyed? No, this whole episode was the shabby and frankly rather embarrassing final chapter to what had once been a noble career. Possum wiped his nose. Yes, thinking about it, he realized that he was quite disappointed by the whole thing and more than a little resentful that they'd bothered showing up at all; they'd ruined the legend for him and for everyone.
For her part, Shimmer saw the humour. She, Skinner and a handful of Avowed marching through the inner precincts, the majority of the force left behind in the marshalling grounds. What could they hope to accomplish, or more precisely, what did Cowl or Skinner have in mind? Surely Laseen would have fled by now, or carried on the ancient solution and taken poison — one could always hope. Perhaps they would end up joining the queue of petitioners hoping for their turn before the August Personage.
But no. Skinner did not stop on his relentless march to the Throne room. Functionaries and clerks pressed themselves against walls and gaped as they strode through colonnaded approaches, seating halls, and long reception chambers. All guards were notable by their absence — almost as if they'd been pulled for service elsewhere — and the
The final tall set of double doors crashed open under Skinner's armoured forearm and they faced the long sable carpet leading up to an empty throne. The throne of Malaz, assembled from bones. A not so subtle reminder of the true power behind it, the T'lan Imass. A cold grim seat, it seemed to Shimmer. Skinner set his gauntleted hands to his belt and nodded his head within his tall helm, as if confirming to himself what he'd been expecting all along.
‘Empty,’ Shimmer said, mostly because someone had to.
‘Almost,’ Skinner corrected, pointing aside.
A short chubby man in rich blue and green robes bowed where he waited next to a pillar. He gestured to a table holding carafes of clear water. ‘Refresh yourselves please, honoured ones. I see that your passage has been a particularly desiccating one.’
Skinner turned away, dismissing him. ‘Poison is useless against us.’
The man bowed again. ‘As I know. Which is why I would never make such an ill-advised attempt.’
Shimmer drew off her helmet, tucked it under one arm. ‘You are?’
‘Mallick Rel. Duly elected spokesman for the Assembly of regional governors and representatives.’ He smiled unctuously, bobbing his head.
Shimmer helped herself to the water, drank deeply and found it wonderfully refreshing. ‘Come to take the measure of your new masters?’
The man's lips drew back in a thin smile, revealing sickly green teeth. ‘If the Gods should will it so…’
It seemed to Shimmer that this man was not nearly as nervous as he should be. Skinner had turned at the man's words and now regarded him. ‘Perhaps I should kill you,’ he said, his voice bland.
The man's eyes fluttered as he blinked his confusion. ‘But wasn't the water cool and fresh?’
Shimmer laughed. ‘It was that. My thanks.’
‘Excellent. A job well done is its own reward.’
Now it was Shimmer's turn to stare, uncertain. This man's game was deep — was he angling to maintain his position, or was that actually… mockery?
But Skinner waved curt dismissal. ‘Leave us.’
The man bowed and backed out. Lazar pulled the doors shut.
This whole thing is a mistake, Skinner,‘ Smoky said — for the tenth time. ‘And that guy was the oddest of it.’ Shimmer had to agree. Why had he elected to be here to meet them? What was his purpose?
Skinner faced them. ‘Yes, enough of this foolish charade. Laseen has fled. What we have shown here is that no one dares face us. Shimmer, take the command back to the ships to withdraw down the coast to the west and link up with the rest of the forces when they arrive. Cowl and I will join you later.’
Shimmer bowed. ‘You are going on alone?’
‘Yes. There is are some… options… Cowl and I wish to look into.’
Shimmer bowed again. ‘As you order.’ She gestured Smoky behind her, faced Lazar, Black the Lesser, Shijel and Kalt. ‘Form up and have a care.’
They'd left behind the inner halls and were close to the marshalling grounds when the first ambush took them. A concerted toss of Moranth munitions blew Kalt into fragments. Withering volleys from crossbows and bows kept them pinned until Smoky drove the soldiers back with a liquid wall of flame that billowed down the hall. Shimmer stepped out among the still burning tapestries and furniture, waved the smoke aside, squinting ahead. She pointed Lazar back to get Skinner even though she was certain he was gone — if he'd been around he would have come. Smoky raised a hand for silence. ‘The Brethren clamour. Listen.’
The muted, distant murmur of battle; her command was under attack.
