Stryke thought that was an odd thing for her to say. But then, most of what she said had always struck him as bizarre. He held his silence.
'Why am I bothering?' Jennesta asked. 'You and your kind have the acumen of worms. And to think I once believed that you, Captain Stryke, had the wit to rise above your animal state.'
'You never showed it.'
'You never earned my trust.'
It was Stryke's turn to laugh, even if he risked a further jolt. 'You talk as though your trust's a gem, and not a sham of paste and glass.'
'What a poetic turn of phrase. For an animal. You could have been great, Stryke.'
'I'm flattered.'
'Low sarcasm. I shouldn't expect more. But what you're too dim to understand is that by your treachery you've traded my patronage for a life of struggle and hardship.'
'We call it freedom.'
'It's overrated,' she sneered.
The carriage door was still open. Outside, the sound of fighting continued, but it was strangely faint, as if heard from a distance.
Stryke said the first thing that came into his head, purely to keep her engaged. 'You might have the upper hand now, but — '
'Oh really. Foolishly, I expected more of you than empty threats and petty chatter. Let's not beat about the bush. Neither of us is mentioning the enormous basilisk in the room. The instrumentalities, dolt.' She fleetingly glanced at the pouch again. He took that as confirming his hunch and tensed himself.
'What about them?'
She rolled her eyes. ' ' What about them,' he asks. So you're happy that you no longer possess them, is that it? No answer? Perhaps a little encouragement's in order.' She raised her hand.
Stryke sprang forward, snatched the pouch and dived out of the carriage. Thinking he'd be struck down at any instant, he ran towards Haskeer.
His sergeant had decapitated the zombie and was staring down at it. Even headless, the creature still showed signs of life, writhing and twitching in the dirt.
' Move it! ' Stryke yelled. 'Run!'
Haskeer fell in behind him.
Stryke looked back. He expected to see Jennesta coming out of the coach, but there was no sign of her. Up ahead Coilla, Dallog and the others were surveying the corpses of the troopers littering the road.
Loosening the drawstrings on the pouch, Stryke checked its contents. The instrumentalities were inside. Triumphant, he stuffed the pouch into his jerkin.
'Got them?' Coilla asked as he approached.
He gave her a thumbs-up.
' Company! ' Dallog shouted, pointing with his sword.
A detachment of cavalry were heading their way from the direction of the barracks, and they were moving fast.
Stryke ordered a retreat. They ran into the trees and mounted hidden horses.
In her carriage, Jennesta smiled.
They split into four groups to avoid attention, with Stryke, Coilla and Haskeer staying together. As a precaution, the safe house had been changed following the incident with Standeven, and they rode hard for it to beat the curfew. But they slowed their pace when they got into the inner city's narrow, winding streets, where many others were hastening home before full dark. Finally, finding the lanes too crowded to ride, they had to dismount and lead their horses.
'Now we've got the stars back,' Haskeer said, 'we can leave anytime we want.'
'Not until things are settled here,' Stryke replied sternly.
'Didn't say we should. It's just good to have the option.'
'I'll drink to that.'
'Now you're talking.' Haskeer spat plentifully, narrowly missing the feet of an irate passing citizen. 'My throat's as dusty as a troll's crotch.'
'Is it just me,' Coilla wondered, 'or did this mission seem just a little too easy?'
'You wouldn't say that if you'd been in there with Jennesta,' Stryke replied.
'You're still alive, aren't you? And, all right, we met some opposition, but nothing we couldn't handle.'
'We got lucky.'
'Don't you think Jennesta would've taken more precautions? Not just for herself, but the stars?'
'You know what it's like with rulers. They get full of themselves. Too brash. They never think anybody'd dare go against 'em. The important thing is we got these back.' He patted his jerkin.
'Guess so.' She didn't sound entirely convinced.
'We're nearly there,' Stryke said, changing the subject. 'Expect the rebels to be nosy about what we've been up to today, and stick to our story. Remember, we've just been harrying the militia.'
Coilla and Haskeer nodded.
But when they got to the disused grain store the resistance were using they found the place abuzz. No one seemed interested in where they'd been. Eventually Chillder located them, and she was animated.
'What's happening?' Stryke asked.
'The resistance council's decided the Primary should come out into the open. Isn't it great? Our mother's going to issue her rallying call!'
'When?'
'In the morning.'
'That soon?'
'The time's right, Stryke. Make sure your band's ready; we're heading for the revolution!'
9
Hacher had grown used to Jennesta's nocturnal habits. Or at least accepting of them. In the weeks she had been in Taress as the empire's special envoy, he had reason to wonder if she ever slept at all.
So it was that Hacher found himself in her chambers near dawn, having been at her beck and call for most of the night. Jennesta herself was outside on the balcony, watching Grilan-Zeat. The comet was big in the sky, a boiling light to rival the Sun that was soon to rise.
Hacher was alone in her apartment. His aide, Frynt, had been despatched on some errand Jennesta demanded, and Brother Grentor had likewise been dragged from his bed to attend to her whims. Her undead personal guards were nowhere to be seen. Hacher suspected that they were slumbering in some state of coma necessary to revitalise their strength, but preferred not to dwell on the thought.
He was bored as well as exhausted, though the anxiety Jennesta always managed to generate in everyone gave his fatigue an edge. It was rather like the way he remembered feeling as he prepared to enter a battle when he was a younger man. But this night trepidation had reached new heights, given Jennesta's ambush during the evening. Not that she had done more than mention it, almost in passing, let alone discussed it with him. He wasn't so naive as to think it would end there, and his concern was about when and how she might show her displeasure.
As he pondered, she entered the room. Hacher intuitively stiffened, almost to attention, as he always did when she was around, and doubly so when there was a chance she was going to be wrathful.
Worn out by anticipation, he decided on the risky strategy of preempting her by broaching the subject first, greeting her with, 'I owe you an apology, my lady. The assault you were subjected to earlier was inexcusable.'
'Yet you are about to make excuses for it, no doubt.'
'No, ma'am. I merely wish to express the military's regret that you should have been put in harm's way.' He
