Nillis, anxious but hopeful. Ulakan, angry and disdainful. Gerial watched him push others aside as he came, Gyalans and Beethans shoved from his path. Gerial hadn’t seen an Ynissul in the market bar a cell of TaiGethen a little earlier on. He cleared his throat.
‘Ulakan, those people are my customers,’ said Gerial.
‘You shouldn’t be serving them,’ muttered Ulakan.
Gerial felt his face flush. ‘Really? Fancy a mango?’
Gerial held out a fruit. Ulakan reached out his hand, a smirk on his face.
‘Tuali food for-’ he began.
‘Tended by Gyalans, harvested by Apposans and set on this stall by Ixii,’ said Gerial. ‘Still want it? You’re an idiot. Get away from my stall. Nillis, I need you. What did you want anyway?’
Nillis looked briefly at Ulakan, who was staring at Gerial like a slighted child.
‘You’re being undercut by Heol and old Jasif. You should see the crowds at their stalls.’
‘Then they’re as stupid as your friend, aren’t they? Why would you cut your prices on a day as packed as this?’
‘They can feel what’s coming,’ said Ulakan. ‘So they want to sell and get out. Perhaps it’s you that’s being stupid.’
Gerial shook his head. ‘Take your mouth and get away from my stall. You’re no longer welcome here or in my home.’
‘But-’ began Ulakan, gesturing at Nillis.
‘Then use your brain before you open your mouth. We don’t need your views. Tualis moved on a long time ago. About time you caught up.’
Ulakan made to say something else but thought better of it. Gerial watched him turn. An ula looking in another direction collided with him, bouncing off his strong frame.
‘Sorry, my friend.’
‘I’m not your friend, little-life,’ snapped Ulakan, shoving him hard in the chest.
The Gyalan stumbled back off balance and half fell into the back of a group of others buying at a fresh meat stall. Gerial shouted a warning, but in the bustling crowd no one could hear him. One of the buyers sprawled into the display of meat. Trays clattered and fell. The stall shook and a leg cracked. Meat slithered onto the ground.
The group of buyers turned. The stallholder – Kithal, a big, burly Apposan farmer – ran around to try and save his produce. Ulakan was laughing. The Gyalan straightened. The buyers around him grabbed him but he shook them off. He ran straight at Ulakan and threw a punch. Ulakan dodged it and slammed his own fist into the ula’s stomach, another into his face.
‘Gyalan scum!’
Elves turned. Gerial ran from behind his stall.
‘Calm down,’ he said, gesturing with his hands. ‘Ulakan, shut your stupid mouth.’
Gerial stooped to help the Gyalan up. The ula nodded his thanks.
‘What are you doing?’ Ulakan was beginning to shout, losing his temper. ‘He’s not one of us.’
Gerial turned on him. ‘It’s you who isn’t one of us. Nillis, get him out of here.’
A fist struck out, taking Nillis on the side of the head. Gerial swore and spun round again. There were people everywhere closing in, or so it seemed. Nillis was sprawled on the ground. Ulakan was bending to help him.
‘What did he do?’ shouted Gerial. ‘Stop this. Now.’
One of the buyers at Kithal’s stall pushed Gerial back.
‘No one laughs at me,’ he said.
‘No one was. One idiot child,’ said Gerial. ‘Calm yourself.’
‘Ordering me, are you? Tuali orders Beethan, is that it?’
The Beethan cocked a fist only to have his wrist grabbed by Kithal.
‘That ula is my friend,’ said Kithal. ‘As are you.’
‘Get your hand off me.’
The Beethan’s friends jumped on Kithal, bearing him to the ground. Gerial shouted for them to stop. The Beethan punched Gerial’s face. Gerial’s head spun and he fell to his knees. He felt hands around him.
‘Gerial, are you all right?’ Ulakan. Gerial nodded. ‘You may hate me but I’ll fight for you. For all Tualis.’
‘No,’ managed Gerial, spitting out a mouthful of blood. ‘Leave it.’
But Ulakan was already gone. There was a knife in his hands. Gerial watched him, his heart aching. He felt groggy. Nillis was by his side.
‘I’m all right,’ said Gerial. ‘Stop him. Ulakan.’
Ulakan jumped on the back of the Gyalan ula. Gerial saw the knife flash. The Gyalan collapsed. Blood pooled on the cobbles. Kithal’s stall was upturned. The farmer roared fury. His fists flew in a flurry. Gerial saw a head snap back. A Beethan slammed a meat tray into the back of Kithal’s head. The farmer slumped forward.
Gerial saw red. Katyett watched the riot spread across the marketplace like a rainstorm across the harbour. She watched the Al-Arynaar try and fail to restore order. She saw murder, looting and destruction. She saw her people begin to split and bunch. Ordinary elves this time. She saw her race begin to fracture.
‘The wall has fallen,’ she said. ‘Come on. Time to act.’ Night in Ysundeneth and the city was on fire.
Katyett had set up a makeshift centre of operations on the roof of the Hausolis Playhouse. It gave her views to all corners of the compass. It was also one of the few flat roofs in the city. It had a gentle camber to channel away rain without upsetting the acoustics of the auditorium.
Riots had blitzed the docks as the sun set. Several coastal merchant ships had been burned at their moorings. Dockside businesses had been wrecked, warehousing looted or destroyed. Ynissul ships, businesses and warehouses. Elves had been chased from their homes moments before the oil and torches fell. Ynissul elves. There had been no killing but it was only a matter of time.
Katyett had put out the word to the TaiGethen remaining in the city of where she was stationed. Tables had been set up and pinned to them were hastily drawn sketches of the city. On each were placed stones representing known flashpoints and the current positions of Al-Arynaar forces, and charcoal marks where any significant destruction had taken place.
‘Grafyrre, what’s the-’ In quick succession, three TaiGethen vaulted onto the roof. ‘Yniss preserve us, it doesn’t get any quieter, does it? What have you got for me?’
‘Significant move towards the spice market. They might be heading here,’ said one.
‘How many?’
Katyett trotted to the south edge and could see bobbing torches.
‘Two hundred at least.’
Grafyrre blew out his cheeks. Katyett looked at the other two.
‘What have you got?’
‘There’s a very big blaze about to be set in the Takaar Gardens. Predictable but it stinks of a diversion to me.’
‘All right. Well, it keeps them away from the buildings, I suppose. Al-Arynaar watching them?’
‘A good number. Not doing a lot to stop them, mind you.’
‘Damn it, Pelyn, where are you?’ Katyett rubbed a hand over her face. ‘And you?’
The third TaiGethen spread his hands. ‘It’s more a feeling than fact. A general movement back towards the temple piazza. Small groups here and there.’
‘Trying not to attract attention? Tual’s balls, who is orchestrating this?’ Katyett looked again at the crowd approaching the spice market. They were moving quickly and there were others joining them, the whole spreading out. ‘Graf, what’s happening your side?’
‘Got a lot of torches. Heading this way, I think.’
‘They mean to surround us,’ said Katyett. ‘Something’s going to happen at the temples. Who’s up there?’
‘A good number of Al-Arynaar, a lot of Ynissul inside our temple. I presume the priests and healers have all stayed put except the ones tending Olmaat downstairs,’ said Grafyrre. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. It just feels bad. We need to get the TaiGethen to the piazza. All of them.’ Katyett stared at her hands. They were trembling very slightly. She shuddered and circled her shoulders, trying to relieve sudden tension. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’