City of Demons (30 page)

The colour came back into Branet's face and he shook off the Training Master's hand.

“That is why I now must act for the good of the Hall. Why I must demand that not only must all promotions be approved by myself, but that some Banes lose the rank they now so undeservedly have.” He sat back down and waved one hand. “Master Farix, read the list.”

“Master Farix?” Marick hissed. Surely enough, when the smug young man came forward, holding a long slip of paper, he was wearing a red sash.

“The following Blues are hereby demoted back to the rank of Black,” he said, and began a list of six names. Dorict's, Marick's and Garet's were the first three.

Garet fell back in his chair.
So fast
, he thought,
and so easily accomplished
. All that had to be done to steal away his efforts, his studies, his struggles to fit in, was his name on a piece of paper. He heard crying and saw one of the other Blues mentioned had laid her head on the table and was sobbing into her folded arms. Marick looked stunned, but Dorict, usually so calm, was fierce in his outrage.

“Farix!” he yelled over the chaos of every Bane either speaking or shouting. “Claws shred you before you take my sash!” He threw his plate to the floor and started to climb over the table to get at the smirking Master.

Marick hauled him back. “Not here, Dorict!” he whispered frantically to his friend. “Not now! But don't worry, we'll pick our own time and place.”

Farix had worked his way through the Greens. Marick fumed to hear Vinir's demotion. “Just after killing a Basher! Adrix is mad!”

The new Master continued his list. He read out the names of four Golds who were sent back to the Green level, but surprisingly, Salick was not mentioned. He shifted the list in his hand and called out, “The following Masters are hereby stripped of the Red Sash and demoted to the Gold level.” The hall hushed and took a collective breath, waiting for the names.

“Relict is demoted for dereliction of his duties in patrolling the Wards. He failed to track and kill a Basher Demon in time to prevent much loss of life,” Farix intoned.

Relict sat stone-faced beside Mandarack. Vinir, who had come up behind his chair to speak, perhaps plead with him when her own name had been called, stood unbelieving beside him. Not a sound came from the assembled Banes.

“Tarix is demoted for undue speed in granting promotions and her present inability to fulfil her duties as a Bane,” Farix continued.

Now it was Branet who stopped the Training Master from rising up on her crutches to answer this insult. In the silence that followed, the grief-stricken Master spoke in a voice that reached the Blues' table. “Wait, my friend. I have a feeling Master Farix is not yet done.”

Adrix leaned forward and gave Branet a small nod of his head, a smile twisting his lips. “Thank you, Branet. There are a few more names.” He waved at Farix to continue.

“Branet is demoted for the poor training of his apprentices which led to their tragic deaths. Bandat is demoted for not providing the Hallmaster with the names of candidates before promotions were awarded. And Pratax is demoted for ignoring the rules of this Hall.” With that, he folded the paper and formally handed it to Adrix before returning to his place at the Hallmaster's side.

Now the hall erupted in noise, the Banes yelling questions at each other. “Why weren't Salick and Mandarack demoted?” Dorict shouted at his friends.

Although it was almost impossible to be heard, Garet shouted back. “I think he will, but not yet. Look at who he chose, all Masters and their Golds who favour Mandarack over Adrix.” They looked to the table. All the demoted Masters were grouped around Mandarack, who leaned forward to listen to their demands. “Without their support at the head table, what can he do?” Garet said, and banged his plate to the floor to rest beside Dorict's. The spaces between the tables were littered with broken crockery. “Adrix will demote him as soon as the Hall adjusts to what happened today!”

The noise was dying as Bane after Bane looked to the Masters' table, waiting for a reaction. Mandarack had risen and raised his good arm above his head, calling for attention. Ignoring him, Adrix and his party got up to leave.

“Not yet, if you please Hallmaster!” Mandarack shouted, his voice rasping across the fading din. Adrix turned to face him across the length of the table, his stance polite, but the mocking smile still on his face.

“The Rules of the Shirath Banehall allow for the demotion of a Master only if a council of Masters is called and a vote taken.” Mandarack turned to the assembled Banes. “I think that those who lost their sashes today for dereliction and breaking rules would like to know that no rules were broken by their own Hallmaster.” He turned back to Adrix, and Garet recognized in the old man's stance the same fierce energy he had seen him project in his battles with demons.

Adrix said nothing. He turned, still smiling, and swept out of the dining hall. Chaos ruled as the Banes left the hall, arguing and shouting. Garet heard a Gold say to her fellow, “But we have to do something. Over a hundred citizens died last night. We failed, the Banehall failed, and unless we fix it, unless we pay for it somehow, we will be shamed in front of the people.” Her friend's reply was lost as they joined the river of Banes flowing out into the halls.

Salick had cornered them before they could join the others leaving. “Follow me,” she said, and led them to the high table. The humiliated Reds were echoing the arguments of their students.

“Mandarack,” Branet shouted, “how can you just sit there? You must do what you did in Old Torrick's Hall.” He waved angrily at the doorway through which Adrix had left. “Get rid of that pompous fool and take your place as Hallmaster!” He thumped a fist on the table in front of the old Bane for emphasis, making the cups tumble.

Mandarack did not stir or start at this outburst. He held up his hand and replied as if they were speaking of common matters. “What happened in Torrick was already happening when I arrived there.” He fixed Branet with his eyes. “Master Corix was an overwhelmingly popular choice, mainly because Furlenix never bothered to gather supporters. What argument there was focused on the method of change, not that change should occur.”

Branet collapsed back in a chair, still muttering.

Mandarack continued. “If we act now, it won't be a coup; it will be a bloody civil war.” He looked from one Master to another. “And while we are killing each other in this Hall, who will be protecting our city? We are still Banes.”

The Masters looked at each other and reluctantly nodded at that undeniable statement. Only Branet protested. “But Mandarack, you heard what he said about them.” He pointed to the sashes still draped over two empty chairs. “Dalict and Shonirat were good Banes, bright, hard-working. Adrix's words as much as said that they got themselves killed. They don't deserve that.”

“No, Branet,” Mandarack replied softly. “They do not, and neither do you, or Relict, nor any of you.” He rose and beckoned to the waiting Banes. “Salick, take Garet, Dorict, and Marick to Lord Andarack's house and do as he instructs. Whatever happens in the Hall, finding a way to counter this new demon power is our paramount task.” He paused in turning and added, “And take your weapons whenever you go out into the city.” He turned to the Masters. “The council will meet,” he smiled slightly, “as per the rules, after supper. As your duties allow, spend the day talking with others, trying to gauge how they feel. I will do the same.”

The outside air was biting and tasted heavy, a sure sign that the first snow was on the way. Garet hoped his father and brothers had got in enough wood for the family to endure the cold of winter, then realized that he had not thought of them for some days. How could he forget? Guilt rose in him. His mother's face, strangely unfocused, floated before him and he leaned against the gate post and swallowed hard.

“Are you all right, Garet?” Dorict asked. Salick and Marick were half-way across the plaza, heading for the west bridge. The Bane's round face was still flushed with anger.

Garet shook his head. “It's nothing.” He pushed off the wall and followed the others.

“Master Mandarack will make sure we keep our sashes,” Dorict assured him.

“It's not that,” Garet replied. “I'm worried about my mother and sister, what with winter coming on so soon.”
There
, he thought,
I've admitted it to someone else
. His head felt strangely light after uttering the words.

Dorict mused for a dozen steps. “Why don't you send a letter to Boronict, at the Bangt Banehall? He'll have lists of all the people in the area, and the Three Roads outpost will still be under Bangt's control.” The young Bane looked up at him thoughtfully. “I know I couldn't think if I didn't know what was happening to my family.” He grimaced. “Well, most of them. I'm sure Boronict can get a message through for you.”

“Dorict, you're a genius!” Garet yelled, and grabbed the shorter Bane in a bear hug. He released him and ran after Salick and Marick, leaving his startled friend to try and catch up.
A letter, of course
, he thought. He was already composing it in his mind when he caught up with the others.

“What are you happy about?” Marick asked sourly. Since breakfast he had been as downcast and angry as the others. He muttered constantly, planning his revenge.

“Nothing...oh Dorict just suggested I send a letter to my mother,” he burst out, unable to contain his enthusiasm.

Marick smiled in spite of himself. “I guess Boronict could help you deliver it,” he said, then his expression turned dark again. “I might go join the Bangt Hall myself, if we can't stop these fools.”

Salick nodded in glum agreement. “I never thought I'd want to leave Shirath, but how can we stay? Especially if Adrix attacks...” She didn't finish the sentence but they knew she was afraid for Mandarack's sake.

In their low spirits, they barely noticed the other people in the plaza. Garet bumped into one, a fat merchant in an expensive green tunic, and said, “Oh, pardon sir.”

“Look where you're going, Bane,” the man snarled, and Garet drew back from the hate in his voice. “But I suppose we all know how blind you Banes are now,” he continued, words dripping with contempt. “My best apprentice lived in that building until last night—when your incompetence killed her!” The man pushed past them, his jowls quivering with rage.

Garet stood open-mouthed until Salick gave him a little shake and said, “Don't take it to heart, Garet. A lot of people are angry over their loss today.” She pulled him towards the bridge. “Say nothing to them, or we'll just make the situation, and their pain, worse.” The guards at the bridge watched them sullenly as they passed though the gate and climbed the span.

At the Eighth Ward gate, Gonect greeted them quietly. “It's a sad day, Banes,” he told them as they huddled just inside the Ward walls. On this side of the river, the wind was keener. “The funeral processions are already lining up at the temples.” He nodded at the three domed buildings. Deep bells and the crying of women were carried to them on the cold wind. “Is it true that two Banes died as well?” he asked.

Salick nodded.

“Claws!” he swore softly. “Though it's a better death to fall defending your people than to fall drunk off a bridge, I suppose,” he shook his head sadly.

Garet thought about it and was forced to agree. As a Bane, he faced the possibility of death with each demon encounter. But at least he would die usefully. He looked at Gonect and suddenly saw him as one soldier—or citizen—might see his fellow. Impulsively, he grabbed the guard's shoulder in sympathy.

Gonect looked up and smiled at him. “Ah, young Bane, there's no joy for any of us today, just company in grief.” And he waved them on, shaking his head and wiping his nose on a leather-bound sleeve.

Salick did not say another word until she spoke to Andarack's door guard, asking again to be let into his presence. The great hall was quiet, only a single woman worked at the great press, and it was several minutes before Andarack appeared. Salick and Garet gasped when they saw him. The Ward Lord had aged ten years in the short time since they last saw him. His eyes were bloodshot, his long hair wild and greasy, his face grey; he greeted them distractedly. “Come,” he said and led them out of the hall.

They walked past the expensive hangings on the corridor walls to a narrow, back hall ending in a dark, downward stair. Giving each Bane a small lamp, and taking one for himself, Andarack led the way down the steps. The lights danced among the greater shadows as they descended. One flight, two, three, Garet counted. The walls became moist with condensation. Marick purposefully scraped the brass base of his lamp along the stone. He heard Salick whisper fierce reprimands at the boy.
We must be far below the level of the street by now
, Garet realized, jumping at the noise. Andarack paused for a moment and leaned against the wall. Dorict took his lamp while Salick and Marick supported him. Garet looked around. Although he was last in line, he was sure he felt another presence hovering behind him.

“It's all right,” Andarack said, wiping the sweat from his brow. A drop of water fell from overhead, extinguishing Dorict's lamp. He yelped and hurriedly re-lit it from Salick's lamp. The Ward Lord looked at them curiously. “Don't you feel it?” he asked, his eyes shining in the flickering light.

Garet sucked in his breath—the demon-fear! He reached for his rope-hammer, dangling awkwardly from the hook Tarix had given him to fix to his sash. Marick pulled at the flat leather case on his back, and Dorict yanked at the straps that bound his pole to Salick's trident.

Andarack held up a weak hand. “No, no! There is no need to prepare for battle, my friends.” He waved down the last flight of steps gaping darkly before them. “The demon jewel from the Glider that, I believe, you two helped kill”—he nodded at Salick and Garet—“is down these stairs, in the old ice-rooms of this manor.” He took back the lamp from Salick and beckoned them to follow.