4
It was starting to snow.
‘We should have brought horses,’ Caldason grumbled.
‘We’re nearly there now. Besides, you want to stay fit, don’t you?’
‘I can think of more pleasant ways of doing that.’
Serrah Ardacris smiled. ‘Keep your mind on the job at hand, Reeth. And stop changing the subject. We were discussing Kinsel. What are we going to do about him?’
‘ You were discussing Kinsel. I’m not convinced.’
‘He’s out there, Reeth.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I’ve heard Kinsel sing; you haven’t. It’s not something you forget. Believe me, it was him.’
‘You’ve got to admit it’s a bit unlikely.’
‘What’s so unlikely about it? Kinsel’s galley was lost. Why shouldn’t pirates have been responsible?’
‘It was a fair way from here.’
‘So? That’s what ships are for, isn’t it? Getting people from one place to another.’
‘But why would he be singing?’
‘Are you having a particularly dimwitted day? I don’t know why. Perhaps somebody forced him. Maybe it was his way of identifying himself. It doesn’t matter; but what we do about it does.’
Caldason grinned. ‘You really do think it was him, don’t you?’
‘ Yes! That’s what I keep saying, for pity’s sake. Look, Reeth, if there’s even a slim chance I’m right we have to do something, don’t we? We owe him that much.’
‘Yes, of course we do. I’ll talk to Darrok about it, and the council.’
‘We need a plan.’
‘We’ll have one.’
She reached for his hand. ‘Thanks, my love.’
It was twilight and the chill winds were biting. The sky was leaden, and just beginning to shed its burden of snow.
They were in the Diamond Isle’s interior. The path they trod was ill-maintained, like most of the rundown pleasure resort’s walkways. Some of the buildings they passed had fallen into ruin after years of neglect. Others were intact and functional, but as many of them had been designed for purely recreational purposes they were little use as island defences. Serrah and Caldason had seen them so many times they hardly noticed anymore.
‘We should try to get word to Tan about Kinsel,’ Serrah suggested, negotiating a ridge of frozen mud.
‘That could be hard. This place is practically blockaded. The pirates, the empires or all three seem to be stopping most of the glamoured messages we send. Not to mention how low our store of magic is. It wouldn’t be easy convincing the council to use any on our behalf.’
‘I know the problems, Reeth. We should still try.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait until we’re sure? Give it until we have more than just your certainty about it?’
‘Let’s not go there again.’
‘I’m serious, Serrah. We could be building up Tanalvah’s hopes without cause.’
‘If I were in her position, waiting to hear about you, I think I’d want to know. Would it hurt so much to give her a straw to clutch at?’
‘It could, if the hope’s groundless. We should think on this. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s alive.’
‘She’s alive, Reeth. Tan’s a survivor.’
‘I’ll talk to some people about it. Anyway, we’re nearly there.’ He nodded to indicate the towers marking their destination, which were starting to show above the hill they climbed.
Minutes later they had a clear view of the structure the rebels grandly referred to, not without irony, as their central redoubt.
Built as a guesthouse for rich visitors, it was the tallest building on the island, very large, and fashioned sturdily enough. There were half a dozen towers, winding battlements and an extensive flat, walled roof. There was even a portcullis, and a moat, now dry and clogged with leaves. However, its appearance didn’t reflect its substance; it had been made to look like a castle rather than be one. Its stone cladding was for show and unlikely to withstand a concerted battering. The doors and windows were equally deceptive in terms of their strength.
Caldason would never have chosen such a place as a fortress of last resort, or approved its location, but it was all they had. The coastal hill fort had been constructed from scratch. It took so much in the way of time and resources that the same couldn’t be done for a central redoubt. The rebels had no choice but to beef up this mock bastion.
Hordes of people were swarming over and around the scaffolded building. They created a din with hammering, sawing, and felling trees for timber. Wagons queued with loads of stone to toughen the ramparts, while mortar was being mixed in giant vats.
Serrah and Caldason made their way down the side of the hill, exchanging greetings with the workers.
‘There’s Zahgadiah and Pallidea,’ Serrah said, pointing.
The one-time owner of the island was hard to miss as he floated on his glamoured dish, inspecting a score of blacksmiths pounding iron on a row of anvils. His leather-clad female companion walked beside him, almost as conspicuous with her waist-length flaming red hair.
Darrok hailed them in typically gravel-voiced fashion. Pallidea merely nodded.
‘Let’s get away from this racket,’ Darrok mouthed.
They followed his hovering saucer along the side of the wall until the noise faded to a tolerable level. The sky was noticeably darker and snowflakes were growing more abundant.
‘How’s it going?’ Caldason asked.
‘Not bad,’ Darrok replied, surveying the scene. ‘But there’s a hell of a lot more to do yet.’
‘Just like everywhere else on the island. How long before it’s finished do you think?’
‘Couple of weeks. Maybe longer.’ He turned his attention to Serrah. ‘We haven’t had a chance to talk since we beat off the raid, have we?’
‘When do we ever?’
‘I just wanted to say it was a great plan of yours to use dragon’s blood against Vance’s men. It really turned the fight in our favour.’
‘I can’t take the credit; I got the idea from the Resistance back in Bhealfa.’
‘You’re too modest, Serrah.’
‘Dragon’s blood?’ Pallidea said. It was a rare utterance from Darrok’s normally taciturn bodyguard-cum- lover.
‘The stuff that caused the blasts,’ Darrok explained. ‘It’s a powder that explodes on contact with water. Serrah brought some in with her, and came up with a way of making it work; an ingenious little water-filled pouch with a breakable container inside for the powder. And before you ask; it’s just called dragon’s blood.’
‘Very funny,’ his mistress responded dryly.
‘Is there any left?’ Caldason asked.
Darrok shook his head. ‘Not much. I’ve got our wizards trying to make more.’
‘Zahgadiah,’ Serrah said, ‘you heard that singing during the raid, didn’t you?’ Caldason sighed. She shot him a glare.
‘Yes,’ Darrok said, ‘I heard it. Reeth mentioned you thought it was Kinsel Rukanis.’
‘Right.’
‘I went to a concert he gave once, somewhere. Gath Tampoor, I think.’
She leapt on the possibility of confirmation. ‘So do you think it was him we heard?’
‘Damned if I know. Tin legs, tin ear, that’s me.’ He rapped his thigh, raising a muffled clang. ‘Never did have much of an appreciation of music.’
‘Why did you go to one of his concerts then?’ Her tone was mildly exasperated.
‘It was a place to be seen. That’s important for a man in my position. Or it was until I got stuck out here with
