“Thank you, Master Relict. We did know that. Dalesta, one of Taron’s Greens, brought a note in the night.”
Relict stroked his short, blonde beard. “Well then, why are we still raiding one end of the tunnel if we haven’t found the other?
Garet looked around to make sure no field workers were close enough to hear. Branet was still some distance behind them. “Captain Bixa fears that there might be spies within the Guards. Once the plan had been made, we really had no choice.”
He looked ahead and said, “Ah, there they are.”
Guards were lined along the Wall with more coming from the east. Bixa waved to Garet, and he led the two Banes over to the Captain.
“Hallmaster, Master Relict,” Bixa said, sketching a brief bow. She was resplendent in a gold washed cuirass and greaves. Her helmet had a great, white plume atop it, and she held her sword ready in her hand.
“The Ward Lord’s son, Tarock, just left the warehouse, according to our agents. They have secured the Gates so it can’t be sealed against us and give Chirat time to destroy the evidence of his crimes, especially that tunnel! We need to find it intact so that we can trace it to the other end and catch all the conspirators. I will lead the first group to take the warehouse. Banes, you stay behind us. We will signal you to enter when the Masks are subdued.”
She waved the guards into two columns. She looked at Garet, considered, and then spoke. “I had meant to leave you with the Banes, but that quick sword of yours might be useful against a band of ex-Duelists. Come in with the second group and keep out any reinforcements from the other Traders. They won’t take kindly to us coming in force like this.”
Garet nodded and went over to stand with Stanat, an under-captain. He was a short man and even shorter on speech. His wide shoulders strained at the straps of his breastplate, and his helmet seemed a size too small for his head.
Stanat nodded at Garet and pulled out a broadsword. He raised it high, and the men and women behind him quieted. There was a moment of pure silence, then the Gates were pulled open, revealing Cheza and Salorex but no Ward guards. Bixa led her group in, the rattle of their armor sharp in the morning air. After a dozen breaths, Stanat lowered his blade and the second column followed.
As they passed through the gates, Garet saw Shula standing beside two trussed up gate guards. She winked at him as he ran past.
The undercaptain signaled a stop at the corner of the first warehouse on the right. He peered down the lane of identical buildings and told ten guards to stay where they were and keep out anyone who tried to enter the lane. The rest, twenty more and Garet besides, followed him to Chirat’s warehouse. There was a man, not one of the guards, on the ground outside the entrance. A whip lay by his hand. From within came the noise of sword upon sword and the harsh curses of the combatants.
“Surround this place,” Stanat ordered. “Nobody escapes.”
When Garet saw all corners and windows covered by the guards, he drew his sword and entered the warehouse.
He tripped as soon as he got through the door. A woman lay underfoot, her guard’s helmet dented. Someone else stumbled over him, but managed to remain upright. Garet stayed on the ground and tried to get some sense of what was happening.
Bixa and a wedge of guards were pushing down an alley between large wooden crates. Several of their opponents bore the thin swords of the Duelists, and the Captain already bled from a cut on one arm. As Garet scrambled up, he saw her break the weapon of the man in front of her, the weight of her sword overcoming the more fragile blade. A backslash took him down, and Bixa urged her troops forward.
“Get them in the corner now! And somebody block off that clawed tunnel!”
Garet looked around. Two guards were down near the northeast corner of the room. He ran over just in time to see a woman leap out of a trap door just behind the bodies. There was soot around her mouth and nose. She slashed at Garet with her rapier. His own sword had not her reach, but it was strong enough to bat aside her blade and leave her unbalanced. He stepped in and hit her shoulder with the pommel. She dropped her sword. He raised his left arm and drove an elbow into the side of her head, wincing at the way she fell onto one of the dead guards.
He had no time for regrets, however, for a man now came out of the trap, a giant of a fellow who bore a two-bladed axe in one hand. The other hand was wiping ash out of his eyes. Smoke followed him, and he slammed shut the trap door. One great swipe of his weapon sent Garet leaping back. Blinking at the scene in front of him, the giant shouted out, “They’ve set the timbers on fire! We can’t get out through the tunnel. Save yourselves!”
And with that he howled out an oath and lifted his axe. Perhaps his eyes were so reddened that Garet was the only one he could see, or maybe he thought him easy prey, for he ran at him like a Bull Demon, weapon raised and ready to cut him in half.
Garet might have jumped inside his swing, if he hadn’t been backpedalling already. He might have dodged, if he hadn’t found himself in a narrow spot between crates. The axe came down, and Garet could only drop to the ground, his very small sword raised above his head.
There was a crash and, instead of sharpened steel, it was soft dirt that struck his head. In a moment, he was buried in it. Garet fought his way free, slashing at an enemy he could not see. When he stood, his head hit something above him. Scraping the dirt from his face, he looked up to see the great axe buried to the haft in the crate he had cowered under. He looked for its owner, lest he come back for it or just tear him apart with his bare hands, but instead saw something quite unexpected.
The giant was pinioned about the throat by the arms of a man nearly as large, Hallmaster Branet. The Bane was dragging him to the centre of the warehouse while his captive thrashed and squirmed.
The prisoner finally slipped the hold and turned to strike the Hallmaster in the jaw, driving him back several steps. With a roar, Branet charged, punching his opponent in the stomach, then hammering the back of his head as he doubled over.
A cheer went up, and Garet saw that Bixa and the others had captured all the remaining fighters and tied their hands and legs. Now they watched as the two big men pummeled each other. From the vigor of their shouts, Garet was sure bets were being laid, though he had no idea who was the favourite.
Branet was again pushed back by a flurry of blows, but the Hallmaster slipped the last punch and kicked his opponent in the thigh. The man went down howling, and Branet stilled him with a buffet to the jaw.
He stood above his foe, sash torn off, vest in tatters, gulping in air.
Bixa ran to him and slapped him on the shoulder. “Well done, Hallmaster! I’d thought to leave you out of this, but I’m glad you joined in. That’s Maroster, the chief of the Thirteenth Ward’s guards. How odd to meet him here! Now, come and see what we found.”
Garet came with them. He tugged on Branet’s sleeve, and the man turned a bruised face to him.
“Thank you, Hallmaster,” Garet said. “Were it not for you, I’d be dead.”
Branet grunted and waved at the man on the floor, even now being tied up. “No matter . . . Garet. I haven’t had a demon to fight for a long time now. This was a pleasant distraction.”
He actually smiled then, or tried to with swollen lips.
Bixa called them over. “Look here, a trap door to the tunnel we guessed at, though it seems we won’t find the other end so easily.”
Smoke creeped around the edges of the door, and Bixa sent a messenger to the Ward’s stewards to warn of the fire danger.
“Those silkstone masks might be in here, but we’ll have to search fast. Stanat tells me that Chirat’s guards and some others are drawing near. What is that all over you, Garet?”
“Dirt. All these boxes must be full of it from digging out the tunnel. No doubt they intended to take them out into the fields at some point to dump them,” he told her. He went with her from crate to crate, using a pry bar to open them up enough to make sure they held nothing but earth.
“Well, Chirat must be the best Trader of all time if he can make a profit selling dirt,” Bixa said. She led them out into the lane and called Stanat.
“We’re leaving now, with the wounded and the prisoners. Where’s your helmet?”
“Hit Chirat with it when he tried to set his bully boys on us,” Stanat said. He pointed to where the Trader hung limply between two guards.
There were several more of Chirat’s workers down, but Bixa left them where they were.
“We wanted the Masks, and we have them. Back to the Gate now,” she ordered.
But it was easier ordered than done, for a mass of guards awaited them and would not budge until the Hallmaster pushed to the front and cursed them with every demon name he could think of. The fear of those words lashed them so badly that Bixa and her troop could force their way through, using the flats of their blades and the backs of their hands to overcome any remaining resistance.
Garet explained to Relict what had happened in the warehouse. The Red regarded the Hallmaster with some awe at the description of his fight with Maroster.
As they went back through the Outer Gates of the Eleventh Ward, Garet breathed a dusty sigh of relief. Although they hadn’t found the silkstone masks, they had found the people who wore them, and that was at least a partial victory.
“
WERE YOU SUCCESSFUL
?” Kaela asked. She stood in the empty guardroom and watched as Cruster climbed up the cellar stairs.
“Yes, M’Lady,” the guard replied. She took the cloth that Kaela offered, bowing awkwardly, and wiped at the soot on her hands. “Nobody’s coming back that way,” she said.
“Let us go then,” Kaela replied, but stopped when her husband clattered into the room. Lord Kirel was so busy pulling on a shoulder piece and trying to fix it to his cuirass, that he did not notice his wife standing in the shadows.
“Guard, fetch my uncle at once!” he shouted at Cruster. “Claws, and get someone to help me into this armor. The King’s Guard is at the gates, and the whole Ward’s in an uproar!”
Kaela stepped forward and put a gentle hand on his. “Let me help you, My Lord. And I fear your uncle is gone. Cruster says he ordered the gates sealed with spikes and had wagons piled before them to keep the King out.”
“What?” Kirel said, paling at her words. “I don’t understand. How . . . why would the King . . .”
Kaela laid a finger across his lips for the briefest of moments then went back to fastening the other shoulder piece. “The less you know the better, my dear husband, though I fear you know too much already for our safety.”
He looked from her to Cruster and saw the wisps of smoke coming up the stairs.
“What is that?” he asked, pointing a shaking finger at the stairs.
“Cruster, would you leave us for a moment? And could you please get those guards we spoke of earlier. Bring them all here if you would,” Kaela said. She lowered herself onto a bench and patted the space beside her. Kirel sat down.
“My dearest one, you should know that Chirat is arrested. A little bird in the King’s service warned me when the Guards left to raid his warehouse. That is why I ordered Cruster to obliterate this end of the tunnel you so cleverly had built. After it burns and collapses, there will be no direct evidence of your connection with Chirat, don’t you see?”
Kirel looked at his wife as if, for the first time, he did see.
“But what of my uncle? Gost will be very angry if he finds out you did this.”
Kaela laughed and then placed a hand on her belly. “I am somewhat protected by my condition, but it is you I worry about. Why would he not give you to the King and forswear all knowledge of the Masks? Your uncle is a man of, shall we say, direct action? What I am doing, I do for you, my love.”
“What are you doing?” Kirel asked, but Kaela leaned forward to kiss him. He resisted at first, but then fell into the embrace as if it were his last refuge.
“Now, my Lord, find yourself somewhere else to be. Prowl the Ward with your stewards and put out fires and riots. Tell all your people that they are safe. Remind them that you are their Lord, not Gost.”
Kirel stood up and held out his hand to help Kaela off the bench. He looked down at her and ran his tongue over his lips as if to taste her again.
“And what of my uncle?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m sure that little problem will sort itself out. Now go on, my brave Lord, while I wait here for Cruster.”
Kirel left, and Lady Kaela decided to wait in the courtyard, for the smell of smoke was quite offensive.
“
CAN’T YOU FEEL
it from upriver?” Cernot asked. The Gold hefted his pickaxe and glanced nervously at the brush crowding the humped and cracked road.
Corix looked up from the litter they had made to carry the woman. “I feel it. And from the north as well. We are nearly surrounded,” she said. If she felt any pressure from the curtain of demon fear closing around them, she didn’t reveal it in her voice or actions. “Here, Falor, help me with these bandages. We’ll need them tight when we cross the river.”