The Pilgrims

men. They gave the city a week to prepare?’

‘Vous is mad,’ said Sharfy simply.

It was true, but … ‘His Generals and Strategists are not. The worst we could do is assume all this happens on a lunatic’s whim, however it looks. Something foul rides on the wind here.’

At last, there were the walls of the city: high turrets pocked with silhouettes of archers, and gaps in the wall and gate likewise occupied all the way down, sometimes up to twenty men on a ledge, all with a great view of the road below. Any invaders who did survive a march between the mountains would be welcomed with a terrible storm of arrows, spears, weighted nets, boulders and more. If they meant to go through with this, maybe it really was lunacy, simple lunacy.

There were secret upper tunnels into the city for those coming from business in Aligned country. The group were inspected by border troops, strip-searched, quizzed, threatened. All expected and endured without complaint, but there was a tense hysterical tone to it all and, inside the city, that same charged atmosphere filled the air. Armed men in big numbers milled about the gates inside, the air rife with the clash of swords as they sparred, the burble of their talk like a noisy sea.

The secret way opened out to a high ledge which ran around the entire rim of the city like the top edge of a giant bowl. Many of the important buildings were up on this shelf, safely away from the charge of potential angry mobs, a lesson history had taught past city rulers the hard way. The streets below teemed with what looked like business as usual: the normal massive swarm of people through the trading Bazaar, itself the size of a small city. This was the rich city’s economic hub, the home of its tradesmen and guild halls.

Anfen knew, as did the Council of Free Cities, that in those bustling crowds were spies in the castle’s employ. He gazed down there as they marched the last few steps of their journey, wondering just how many there were, feigning the life of ordinary citizens, quietly working their way up the city’s political ladder, eyes keen for Elvury’s weak spots, sending reports off in secret. How many were assassins waiting for their assigned targets and orders? Anfen knew he would now be at the top of their hit lists.

The young guard guiding them to their inn sent someone to alert the Mayors of Anfen’s arrival. ‘The Mayors were making ready to depart,’ the guard explained. ‘Gave you up for dead, methinks.’

‘They weren’t far from being right,’ said Anfen.

‘That’s the road, eh? Much trouble?’ The gleam in the young guard’s eye said he longed for such missions too. It was the same eagerness for war and spilled guts many young soldiers felt, tavern stories ringing loud in their ears, until their first real sight of it up close.

Anfen saw part of the young man’s face slip off and spill down his shirt with a trail of dark blood. ‘Much trouble,’ he sighed, too weary to impart any kind of wisdom. It would all find him, soon enough.

At the plush inn reserved for high officialdom, Lalie was taken aback at all the luxury on offer — the food, hot baths, musicians, steam rooms and massages. ‘This is your reward,’ he told her, ‘for your loyalty. You have been a good companion to us. More of this awaits you, if you help us further.’ It was a lie — she had been a surly companion, adding greatly to their tension, needing to be tied and constantly watched, lagging further behind in pace at times than Loup, who at least had the excuse of age. But he needed her to tell her tale to the Mayors. For that matter, he had to tell his own, and he had too little time to prepare it before another messenger came to summon him to them.

49

There were six Free Cities, yet seven Mayors sat around the crescent-shaped table, in a discreet cabin built beyond the noise of the Bazaar’s dinnertime bustle far below. Discreet was important with so many prominent targets gathered in one place. The city’s lights burned bright outside the high window, stretching further than the eye could see. Plates of delicacies were laid on the table before the Mayors, mostly ignored. After weeks of rabbit stew, jerky, foraged roots and other such fare, Anfen had a powerful urge to walk over and crudely stuff his face with the cold meats, cheeses and berries.

It took him a moment to comprehend why seven Mayors were here: ludicrously, the ‘scattered peoples’ had finally gained a vote in Council affairs. At least the man was not introduced as a Mayor; rather, as ‘spokesman’ for a couple of millions spread across vast distances, from little groups of nomad wanderers to the large fishing villages about the Godstears, themselves not far from status as city-states in their own right. To top it off, the spokesman came from High Cliffs, which already had its Mayor at the table. Anfen did not show his displeasure at this idiocy, for inter-city politics was not his trade, but he thought he sensed similar displeasure in a couple of the Mayors when the ‘spokesman’ was introduced.

All the other faces he knew, bar one. Tsith had sent their Mayor’s advisor, not their Mayor, doubtless another sore point for those about the crescent-shaped table. And another obstacle for Anfen, if this matter went to vote; a Mayor’s advisor could not commit his city to something as extreme as destroying the Wall at World’s End. It may be your Mayor is too old and ill to make the journey here, Anfen thought angrily. That means it’s time for your city to get a new Mayor.

The Tormentor’s arm was in a bag by Anfen’s feet. A few curious eyes turned to it and invited explanation, even as they waffled on through pointless formalities. He sat heavily on his chair well before they’d finished, a slight breach of protocol earning him a sternly cleared throat from the Mayor of Faifen. If she begins to swoop around the room like an Invia, consider me chastised, he thought sourly.

‘A long journey?’ said Ilgresi, Elvury’s Mayor. A smile creased his cheeks, though his eyes, black and blind as two rocks, showed nothing.

‘I thought we could cut through some of the-’ he’d almost said nonsense ‘-niceties, given the forces building up on your doorstep, Mayor.’

‘Ah yes. Have you been informed of the latest?’ said Ilgresi, smiling with real mirth. Anfen wished the man wouldn’t, for his teeth were metal and as black as his eyes.

‘No, but I saw the build-up on my way here, some hours ago. Ten thousand, I’d have guessed it.’

‘A siege, you’d have thought?’ said the Mayor.

‘But for the lack of artillery, yes.’

‘And the lack of force at our southern gate! But it may be they mean to send some there. After all, they asked us for passage.’

Anfen blinked. ‘Ridiculous. Passage to where?’

‘Ah, that’s what they do not wish to tell us! They have asked us — their messenger straight-faced — to allow them through the pass, then through the eastern roads skirting the city walls. Which, as It wills, gives them access to our southern gate.’

‘What do you think of this?’ said Liha, leaning towards him. The Mayor of Faifen, she was the only woman present.

‘I don’t know what to think,’ Anfen answered, knowing full well they’d have had every angle of this discussed already with their best and brightest — why bother asking him, unless there was some implied test of loyalty or competence in it? ‘It could be the request was to buy time, or they’re overstocked with soldiers and wish to cull some on a suicidal mission, and measure your strength into the bargain.’

‘It would also make veterans of our forces,’ said Ilgresi, shrugging: let them. ‘Our army is a young one. It would be good for them.’

Anfen groaned inside. Good for them, to participate in a massacre? Good for them, how? Do you think they thirst for the sight of spilled blood and cracked heads? Will getting it help them sleep at night? Tipping big rocks down a cliff face and lobbing arrows down a valley at helpless targets is not combat.

He saw his thoughts echoed on two other faces before him, the two Mayors who’d seen combat themselves, and knew it as more than an abstraction. One of them — Tauk, another former winner of Valour’s Helm and Mayor of Tanton — said, ‘Their actions will tell the story. So far they do not turn about and take a longer road … rather, they wait and more forces come. Now let us hear Anfen’s news. He has had a long journey and we prolong it.’

Anfen said, ‘One question. You sent Far Gaze after me. May I ask why?’

‘To see you were still alive, and to guide you back, if you needed it,’ said Tauk, his look indicating he told