‘Despite all that he has caused, to have no child would be terrible,’ said Pelyn.
‘There are precious few out there who would agree with you. How old are you?’
‘Three hundred and seven,’ said Pelyn.
‘Still fertile?’
Pelyn shrugged. ‘Yes, but my prime has passed by twenty years. And I only get one season, long though it feels sometimes.’
Katyett nodded. ‘We really could do without this war, if it comes to it.’
‘I hear you. We’d be right back to the days of pressure to conceive.’
‘Funny isn’t it that Takaar effectively gave the iads choice of partner and then demonstrated how easy it is to get it wrong.’
‘Oh, Katyett, he didn’t get it wrong. Wanting you to mother his child was the least surprising decision he ever made.’
Katyett burst into tears and hugged Pelyn close.
‘Yours is the most generous of souls,’ she whispered.
‘And yours the strongest,’ said Pelyn. ‘We cannot fall back into war.’
‘Then let’s stop pining after lost love for a moment and go and sort the rabble out.’
Pelyn laughed and pulled away.
‘Thank you, Katyett,’ she said. ‘I nearly lost myself.’
‘Want to know another truth? Anyone else calls you efra and you’ll need to beat me to the killing blow.’
‘I’ll take the challenge.’
The door to the office opened.
‘Katyett. Trouble at the temple piazza,’ said Grafyrre.
Katyett sighed. ‘Looks like it might be a long old day. Come on.’ It was a heartbreaking run through the city. So much bile, stored up for so long. Katyett had been spat at by people she knew. People she might have called friend. Today, as if some delicate strand had been torn to shreds, she was Ynissul, they were anything else but. Damned because they were loyal to an ula who had failed after saving so many of their brothers and sisters.
They ran past the Lanyon Jail, its gates standing open. Nothing like a random assortment of bitter criminals to stoke the fires. They moved quickly along the Path of Yniss towards the temple piazza, which rested on higher ground bordering the rainforest to the north-east. Everywhere, elves had formed into gangs.
Katyett shook her head. Most of them were single-thread gangs only. While the Ynissul were the principal targets of the, presumably Tuali-backed, aggression at the moment, history told them the flimsy unification of other threads would not last. No group that they passed offered anything more than verbal abuse to the TaiGethen cells and the thirty Al-Arynaar. Hardly surprising.
There was a fire burning up at the piazza. Tall flames licked up and smoke billowed, black and oily. Katyett increased her pace, breaking into a sprint as she ran into the piazza and saw the crowd building there. She glanced at the sky, hoping for the rain to return, praying to Yniss to nudge the elbow of Gyal and set her tears to fall.
The temple piazza was a place of beauty and tranquillity. Or rather it used to be. A circular open space a quarter of a mile across, centred around lawns and gardens, bordered by the city temples. Structures built with the passion of faith, reflecting the best qualities of elven dedication and flamboyance. From the stunning carved helical spires of the temple of Beeth, god of Root and Branch; to the spectacular entrance and mural-covered vestibule of the temple of Cefu, god of the Canopy; and the dominating temple of Shorth carved as a prone body, the piazza was testament to elven creativity.
All of it at risk now but none more so than the relatively modest temple of Yniss. The temple was a circular structure with a low green-painted dome and a thirty-foot spire at each corner. It had timber steps leading up to brightly painted wooden doors. Upwards of two hundred elves surrounded the entrance. Many carried torches and their intentions for the temple were clear enough.
A thin line of Al-Arynaar stood on the edge of the apron leading to the steps and more blocked access down the sides and to the rear. A few others stood on the steps, bows ready, but Katyett could see there was no desire to shoot.
‘Let’s get through this crowd, Pelyn. We need to hold them off until the rain comes.’
‘I’ll skirt left,’ said Pelyn, already motioning her warriors to move with her.
Katyett headed straight through the centre of the crowd.
‘Tais, make a path. No weapons. We move.’
Those at the rear of the crowd had sensed them coming and most were quick to move aside. Further in, attention was entirely on the temple. Katyett used her arms to ease people aside.
‘Move. Now. Disperse.’
The Tais came after her, fanning out into a chevron behind her. She heard muttered curses and insults. One ula turned and stood his ground. Katyett walked on.
‘Move or fall. Your choice,’ said Katyett. ‘I will walk to my temple unhindered.’
‘Time changes, TaiGethen. I name my right to stand here. You cannot touch me. Not any more.’
Katyett shook her head, dropped to her haunches and swept the ula’s feet from under him. He fell onto his side and rolled onto his back. Katyett stood astride him.
‘Wrong,’ she said.
The TaiGethen filled in around her, pushing back any who might come to his defence. The ula bunched his fists. Katyett sniffed.
‘I don’t want to hurt you. But if that’s what it takes to stop you, that is what I will do.’ She leant down towards him. ‘You are foolish if you think you can threaten the TaiGethen. Yniss guides us. Yniss keeps us for greater tasks. You are simply in the way. An impediment to be moved.’
‘There are too few of you. Not enough to stop what is coming.’
‘Go home, ula. Look to your real enemies. Those within your ranks who desire war and care nothing for your soul.’
Katyett stepped over the ula and reached down a hand. He looked on it with contempt and pushed himself quickly to his feet. Around them, the crowd had closed in, menacing, chanting the names of Tual and Lorius.
‘The time when you can tell me what to think and what to do is gone. Remember that.’
Katyett turned away from him and breasted through the crowd once more, ignoring the resistance, the shoulders turned into her chest and the feet seeking to trip her. In their midst, only one ula had displayed any courage, misplaced though it was. Unfortunately, one was enough.
When she broke through the front rank of the crowd, Katyett saw Pelyn deploying her Al-Arynaar across the temple apron. She stood on the steps just behind them. Katyett trotted up to join her, turning to look down on the gathering from which a little impetus had been taken.
‘Where’s the priest?’ asked Katyett.
‘Still on her way here from the beetle. Or hiding out somewhere until we can organise some calm, if she has any sense.’
‘How do we disperse them?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Pelyn. ‘I will not fire on them and I will not strike them with even the flat of a blade. I know some of these people. Ordinary folk. Woodworkers, bakers and potters. We can’t attack them.’
‘Then we must speak to them.’
‘Think they’ll listen?’
‘Not to me,’ said Katyett. ‘I appear to be of the wrong thread today.’
Pelyn spared her a wry smile. ‘All right. I’ll do what I can.’
‘Talk like Takaar. Engage them.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
Katyett glanced up to the heavens. Cloud was moving in fast, bearing new rain. Those intent on firing the temple would have seen it too.
‘Tais,’ she said, confident the chanting crowd would not hear her. ‘Like in the chamber, watch the torches. Intercept when you must.’
Pelyn raised her hands.
‘Please. Please. Respect the piazza. Let me speak.’
Her voice was lost in the chanting and the howling of the crowd. Katyett clicked her tongue and the TaiGethen
