overthrow the Church and corrupt every Chaldarean virgin.'
There was no point reasoning. These people wanted a fight They did not intend to let good sense get in the way. 'What's this?' he asked, having just discovered an instrument of destruction that had no business existing outside Dreanger.
It was a firepowder weapon of smaller bore and longer tube than the falcon that had gone to Andesqueluz. A craftsman had been working on it only moments ago. The smell of hot iron still tainted the air.
The tube had been created by wrapping iron wire around a steel rod, then heating the metal and hammering it. 'Is a swordsmith doing this?' It was a stretch but a similar concept underlay the making of the best swords. And the best swordsmiths in Praman Direcia were Devedian.
Would this be something he was supposed to report? The existence of the weapon? Or the fact that there were Deve agents inside er-Rashal's secret workshops? Firepowder weapons had seen field use only rarely. Until the incident of the bogon they had attracted no attention because of their freedom from success.
Stewpo finally confessed, 'It's an experimental weapon. I don't pretend to understand it. I'm told it'll give us a way to deal with unfriendly sorcerers.'
So. The elders were not blind to reality after all. Their chances would be improved if they could protect themselves against sorcery. Particularly if they were a quarter as wicked as the Church accused them of being.
Else said, 'If you really want to fight back and live you'll get that toy finished fast'
How could the concept behind it have gotten to Sonsa so fast?
Silver-tipped arrows and poisoned iron daggers were the stuff of legend. However, any marginally competent sorcerer could surround himself with spells that would weaken or destroy the wood, feathers, bone, cotton or flax, and animal-glue parts of any missile, leaving nothing but a tumbling silver point that would cause harm only by chance.
A man with a dagger was easily frustrated, too, if the sorcerer was not napping.
Else realized that the Deves had trapped him neatly. Their most insidious lure was his need to find out what they were doing and the true depth of their resources. They betrayed themselves a little so he would feel compelled to find out more.
His discovery of the firepowder weapon was no accident.
That left him more convinced that there were Devedian spies close to er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen and, perhaps, even Gordimer the Lion.
Conflict arose predictably, following a tediously unsurprising escalation. A band of adolescents got into the Devedian quarter and threw rocks at Devedian youths, tried to break into a shop, attempted to assault a Devedian girl — then found themselves surrounded by unsmiling men who were not amused by their gentle ethnic jests. They beat me invaders senseless, then flung them into the filth of a midstreet gutter.
The fathers and brothers and cousins of the injured boys took umbrage. That led to confrontations that escalated into the use of weapons. A dozen Chaldareans perished.
In time, a too bold mob of drunks started a battle during which overly enthusiastic Devedian crossbowmen slaughtered scores of raiders.
Every confrontation occurred inside the Devedian quarter. For what little value that was as an arguing point before the city's masters.
Escalation took eight days. Else played the restraining general where no general was necessary and no restraint was possible. On the eighth evening the ruling families felt compelled to take notice because the rioters, turning to Color politics, began starting fires on the Chaldarean side of the Devedian quarter wall. They directed their household troops to restore order. But those forces were besieging the barracks filled with Brotherhood of War squatters.
Knowing success might doom Sonsa's Devedians, Else nevertheless organized an ambush that embarrassed the household forces.
The outrage of Sonsa's Chaldareans, naturally, knew no bounds.
Else told the elders, 'Now they'll make war on you. You won't like the way it turns out. There are a hundred of them for every one of you.'
'There always have been,' Gledius Stewpo said. The Deves were drunk on success. To this point they had suffered no dead at all. One of the beards said, 'The weapon is ready.' Another said, 'The business of Sonsa is business. That business can't go on without us. The Three Families have to let this run its course.'
Sonsa became quiet. Order returned outside the devedian quarter. The ruling families did try to let emotions cool. But too many people preferred otherwise. Especially the Brotherhood of War, guided by the unidentified sorcerer off Vivia Infanti.
A rumor said foreign mercenaries were behind the uprising. One description of a Ferris Renfrow was good enough to get Else lynched.
Circumstances were changing. Else began to consider risking trying to get out of Sonsa.
He would be of no use to Dreanger if he got killed in a local uprising.
News of the uprising reached Brothe. The Patriarch had, already, issued a bull insisting on complete obliteration of the unbelievers. He ordered the Three Families to place all their armed men at the disposal of the Brotherhood of War.
Because the Devedian community had friends and spies, because the Brotherhood had enemies determined to see it embarrassed, those who schemed against the Deves had few secrets.
The Brothers were no fools. They would not believe that they could surprise the Deves. And because they numbered fewer than two score they would not be eager to lead an assault.
'Isn't that always the way? Those most eager get behind somebody who doesn't want to be there and push,' Else said.
Bad timing. Right now the old men were solidly behind the young men but had no pushing to do. The youngsters were more eager than the old folks. Their situation had not yet grown grim.
Else asked, 'What do you expect to do when the Brotherhood comes? They won't run from a few missiles. They'll bring their sorcerers. And they'll kill anybody who isn't one of them. I've seen it before.'
Blank looks. Cold stares. The old men did not want to listen. And Else was trapped in their nightmare.
Not once since his first visit to the armory had he been alone. But he was sure he could shed his Deve shadows if he wanted.
The Brotherhood's attack came at night, as expected. Sorcerers felt more comfortable working in the dark. The family household forces, more afraid of the Brothers behind them than the Deves ahead, broke through the barricade barring entry to the Devedian quarter. Others climbed over the wall, which was slight and less than ten feet high. Its purpose was not defensive, it was intended to contain.
They met no resistance. Nervously, they moved ahead, cautious to a fault, anticipating some deadly trap.
It was dark, after all. And Deves were agents of the Will of the Night. Everybody knew that.
The invaders found the Deve buildings boarded up. They were empty when broken into. Not only were the occupants gone, so were their valuables.
The Three Families had told their soldiers to hurt as few people as possible. Deves were critical to Sonsa's prosperity.
The Brotherhood of War moved in as soon as they heard that there was no resistance, determined to plunder.
The household troops grew ever more unsettled.
Any minute now, those Deve sorcerers would unleash all the hounds of darkness.
Else observed the invasion through a crack in an unglazed cellar window. As he had anticipated, the invaders had worked themselves up immensely in anticipation of a desperate fight. Many were drunk. They did not know what to do if there was nobody to fight. They were standing around scaring one another, not even looking for something to steal.
Else whispered to Stewpo, 'You see? Discipline is failing. They're drunk enough to forget why they came.
