He rose, leaning on his cane, as a final clang resonated.
'Light the fire,' he said.
Kellas leaped up from the porch with a pouch of copper salts and ran to the open hearth where wood had been laid days ago in expectation of this moment.
'Bring out the wagon. Your staves. You younger ones go into the sleeping quarters and remain there. As for the rest, it is time to rise with the courage and honor shown by the orphaned girl.' He tested his ankle, found it firm enough for the purpose. An envoy brought him his staff, and he marched to the gates as fire caught in the hearth, blazing blue as smoke rose.
The lass up on the gate watch called down: 'Fireworks from Kotaru's temple in Flag Quarter, Uncle Nekkar. Heya! The Lantern's temple in Bell Quarter has lit its fire. And Wolf! And Fifth! Look, Uncle! Look! The reeves are coming!'
'We march.'
They had two cadres, trained in staff fighting, common to Ilu's Heralds who walked the roads and might have to beat off importunate wild dogs both canine and human. They pushed open the gates and emerged onto the empty street. Voices swelled as the city awakened from its imprisonment. In Lele Square they met a mixed group of folk, another two cadres.
'Holy One! How do we proceed?'
'Those with padded garments and weapons go to the front, behind the wagons and carts. The rest hold the line behind them. We must hold forces and not break. The soldiers will kill some of us, that is to be expected, but if we hold, we will overwhelm them.'
As they headed down Lumber Avenue toward Terta Square, more folk joined them. It was a rash venture, peaceful folk as they were accustomed to being, and yet what choice did they have?
Aui! It was hot. Smoke rose in waves as the reeves targeted the garrison headquarters and the encampment outside the city gates. Horns blatted as Toskala's lazy garrison woke belatedly to the danger. From every street and alley, they poured into Terta Square pushing the wagons ahead of them. Soldiers were battling a fire on the roof of the Thirsty Saw, but the sergeant in charge called them to form up in a disciplined line. Arrows flew, hissing into the
crowd. Men and women, lads and lasses, went down, and a young woman pushing a wagon crumpled as blood gushed from her throat. Her companions faltered.
'Push forward!' cried Nekkar, and the cry rose until it became a howl.
That was enough to spur them on.
The young men and women pushing carts and wagons broke into a run, and the vehicles crashed into the line. Soldiers fell beneath the wheels, while others scrambled to join their fellows, retreating toward the barracks. But the crowd was emboldened now; the months of curfew, of hunger, of humiliation had seared them; the young struck recklessly, pouring into the gaps within the army's lines, hitting the doors and windows, climbing the roofs to get over into the courtyard behind, so as to attack from the rear. His first cadre of envoys surged forward with the rest, but others held him as he tried to move forward.
'We need you here to command us. Stay back, Holy One.'
Folk from all over Stone Quarter surrounded him, bearing planks and barrel lids for shields. A man five paces away, an arrow in his shoulder, toppled into the people behind him. The crowd lurched forward, then staggered back, then forward again, bodies pressed together, everyone caught in the crush. Weapons clashed and rang, but he couldn't see above the crowd. Far away, the fire bell clamored as reeves glided low over the city. A pot plunged out of the sky to break across the top of the barracks, and in its wake an arrow blazed down. Fire chased down the sides of the tile roof. A scream of triumph rose from some furious young person, hard to say if male or female, and the crowd broke forward until people were stumbling, trying to keep their balance lest they be trampled. Nekkar tripped over a body and hit his knees hard on the ground, bracing himself on a hand as he stared into the open eyes of the sergeant who had ruled Stone Quarter for the last months. He'd been wounded in the side, but he wasn't dead; he was awake and aware, and Nekkar felt obliged to speak a word of comfort, but before a single word escaped him a figure dressed in a ragged taloos dropped down beside him. Fala held a dagger in her hand, and she paused only long enough for the sergeant to see in her his death, and then she plunged the dagger into his chest once, and twice, and three times, and four times.
'Enough, niece!' Nekkar cried. 'Enough!'
She looked up, hair falling over bruised shoulders; her cheeks were sunken. She was panting, licking her lips as blood leaked over her hands. 'My thanks to you, Holy One. This is your doing, isn't it?'
'We found allies,' he said.
Then she began to weep, and a pair of brothers or cousins shouted her name and pulled her away from the dead sergeant.
Others lifted Nekkar. 'We've won, Holy One! To the gates!'
'Leave two cadres to make a sweep of the neighborhoods. There will be soldiers who escaped, desperate men who must be caught.'
'Caught and killed!'
They marched to Toskala's gate, a roaring, singing mass, swarming out to the garrison encampment, which had already been subdued by a company of militiamen flown up from Horn. Already the uprising was losing cohesion as folk streamed toward the main road and its line of posts, to release the dead and dying who had been condemned to cleansing.
A pair of reeves landed hard in an open field, and a passenger unhooked and jogged across the field, heading straight for Nekkar.
'Holy One! I'm Chief Toughid. We met before.' The outlander was a good-looking fellow, not very tall but hale and strong, a bit younger than Nekkar. Once you got accustomed to his accent, he was easy enough to understand. 'Commander Anji's orders, Holy One, to speak to you first. I will order sweeps of the city to look for rogue soldiers. Also, we must set up a perimeter. Enemy soldiers from this region and from the lands down the river will attempt retreat. We must stop and kill as many as we can.'
'What news from Nessumara?' asked Nekkar.
'Chief Sengel's trap was sprung at dawn. I tell you, Holy One, it is a poor commander who does not learn from his mistakes. The demon who commands the enemy did not anticipate that we might use oil of naya again. Hard to imagine such a creature can hope for victory. Good for us, though.' He shaded his eyes against the late- afternoon sun as the giant eagles rose into the sky. A frown chased across his face as he examined one of the reeves; then he looked back at Nekkar. 'What is it, Holy One?'
Nekkar had not realized how his fears and hopes were made plain on his face. Eiya! He was so weary, and yet elation lifted
him. 'I'd like to walk out to the brickworks, Sergeant. They were forcing children to make bricks, and I just wonder-'
I just wonder about those poor orphans.
But the words choked him. Across the encampment and from the city, people began to sing the famous 'Prayer that lifts good news' from the Tale of Fortune.
'This is a prayer that lifts good news. An offering of fresh flowers in thanks, This is a prayer whose seeds scatter. Our voices honor you, who birthed us.'
The chief whistled. Soldiers whose faces Nekkar did not recognize — Olossi men — converged to form a disciplined cadre awaiting orders. 'Escort the holy one to the brickyards and wherever else he wants to go, and then bring him back to me. I'll be setting up an administrative center. Where do you recommend, Holy One?'
'Eh. Ah.' He wiped moisture from his forehead and discovered, to his shock, that his hand came away smeared with blood. What a terrible day, for all its triumph. 'Law Rock would be the proper place for an administrative center, as it's always been. That way no quarter feels slighted or honored. But the stairs will need to be cleared. That will take time.'
The chief nodded. With a gesture, he sent the cadre off with Nekkar, with a special escort of two young Qin soldiers for the ostiary. Wagons had ground ruts into the ground, cracked in this season of dry soil. Folk from the city had already run before him to the yards seeking kinfolk enslaved to the work; the place was a hive of weeping and wailing as people found their lost ones or heard tales of death and despair. The Qin soldiers took in this scene without comment, sticking at his heels like dogs, quiet and respectful.
