Elves: Once Walked With Gods (37 page)

The humans hadn’t been here. It was deserted anyway. Few elves lived here for long and those that did had long run into the forest to seek sanctuary. The maze led on to the Kirith Marsh. Treacherous to any who blundered into it unknowing, but perfect access to the beaches and harbourside if you knew where to tread.

Katyett, her Tai and the groggy mage moved on, their trail already cooling like the blood of their kills.

Chapter 31

If I stand by you in battle, I will die before I let you die. That is my pledge. If we all pledge this, we cannot be defeated.

They saw the western sky light up. The windows of the panorama room on the upper floor of the left arm of Shorth’s temple looked directly towards the Ultan. They had been granted the freedom of the upper floor, but this chamber, light and warm, decorated for joy and furnished in luxury, was where they spent almost all of their time.

They were not, Garan said, prisoners. They had the run of the temple, just not the wider city, which remained under total curfew. Indeed he had insisted that the business of the temple carry on as normal, or as close to normal as anything could in the city. It was a partnership for control of Calaius, he said. Balaia’s college of magic at Triverne wanted to forge a long-term alliance with the elves of Calaius for mutual benefit. But in the short term that meant control of the country had to pass to the military and magical power of Balaia.

He said.

‘TaiGethen,’ said Sildaan, feeling a sadness she had not expected. ‘I hope they survived that.’

‘Why?’ said Llyron. ‘We’re as good as dead anyway.’

‘I’d rather die on the blade of an elf than of a human,’ said Sildaan. ‘At least then we’d know our land was free of man.’

‘Such sentiments sound hollow coming from your mouth,’ said Llyron. ‘And Shorth will be unimpressed.’

‘Why are you talking this way?’

Both turned from the window to see Helias wringing his hands as he paced up and down. A performance of cringing anxiety that would not have looked out of place in the Hausolis Playhouse.

‘Because, Helias, we have been betrayed by men and I suppose we should have guarded against it,’ said Hithuur from a seat as far from the Tuali former Speaker as it was possible to get.

‘How could we have done that?’ asked Llyron, her face angry at the implied slur.

Sildaan was interested in the answer too, although she was in silent agreement with her fellow priest. Besides the fifteen Senserii, who were elsewhere in the temple and perhaps no longer alive, no professional elven fighters had been approached by the conspirators, let alone recruited.

‘You trusted the fact that money would buy loyalty.’

‘As it has in the past, yes. What is your point?’

‘This place is too rich for human mercenaries to leave with nothing but a few coins to show for the job,’ said Hithuur. ‘I hate to say it but we should have bought the loyalty of Helias’s Tuali reserve militia. A hundred or so angry farmers and sailors would have been handy right now.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Helias. ‘None of you are getting it. It just doesn’t matter.’

Llyron favoured Helias with a withering glare. ‘Because?’

‘Because we are where we are, and because we are still in the best negotiating position of any group on Calaius.’

‘And I thought by your rather painful display of fear that you, like us, felt us to be prisoners on death row for knowing too much,’ said Llyron.

Sildaan, though, was thinking. ‘This is a tough country, my priest. I think we should hear the Tuali out.’

Llyron waved a hand and went to recline on a long cushion-covered couch.

‘You understand, Sildaan, I knew you would. I’m pacing up and down looking for an angle while you’re all talking of certain death and facing the unbound fury of Shorth. And I think I have one.’ Helias paused and massaged the sides of his nose with his index fingers. ‘Calaius is an impossible country to rule unless by consent. It is too big, too complex and too dangerous outside the cities. I don’t believe for one moment that the humans want to rule us for any longer than is absolutely necessary.’

‘They’ve sent another two thousand men. The mercenaries we hired were clearly given to us by this city-of-magic place,’ said Sildaan. ‘It is an invasion.’

‘It is a statement of intent and power,’ countered Helias. ‘With magic and muscle, we now know they can take our cities as and when they choose. And they can also back any future government with this power. Look at it logically. If you’re a Balaian, do you want to live here fighting every day to stay alive, or do you want to enjoy the massive wealth of Calaius using a puppet government?’

Sildaan exchanged glances with Llyron, whose mask of disgust had slipped to one of contempt.

‘You want to tithe this whole country to
men
?’ she said.

‘For now, yes. Look, right now . . . right now this is about saving our lives. Tut and look as shocked as you want. Call me a coward. I’ve no problem with that; I’m just telling the truth. The reason we are alive is that we are useful. The moment that stops, we are dead. The moment we become a threat? Dead.

‘So yes, let them set the taxes. Agree to run the economy to deliver. Govern. We already have the system in place to keep the threads working at what we want for how much we want. The thread segregation system is perfect for that. For a few years they’ll leave a heavy presence, but when they think they have us in their pockets, they’ll reduce and reduce because men are expensive to keep here.

‘And all the time we can work to increase our fighting strength. Over time, we can train a whole new army. Men will lose focus on us if we keep sending them their taxes. And as the old ones die and new ones take over, that focus will get ever more blurred. And us? Well, you are immortal; I’ve got a couple of thousand years left if I’m careful.

‘It doesn’t matter if it takes a hundred years. Two hundred. We have time. They do not. And when we are strong enough, we simply stop sending them their coin. By that time the elves will be behind us. Their hatred of man will be at such a pitch that they will be baying for conflict. And we will preside over victory. Hate turns to love when slavery turns to freedom.’

Sildaan knew Helias was talking complete sense. She could see both Llyron and Hithuur knew it too, distasteful as it was.

‘But before you start there’s one big problem out there,’ said Hithuur. ‘The forest is untameable by us or by man. Never mind what we’ve been trying to do, it is too vast to police and it is where rebellion will inevitably arise. And then of course there are the TaiGethen and the Silent Priesthood. How do you deal with them?’

Helias spread his arms. ‘Hey, I’m a negotiator, not a soldier. Garan and his people can sort it out. After all, if you want to own the jungle, you have to deal with the predators.’

Katyett pushed the mage in front of them. They were closing on the warehouse. Burned buildings were all around them. Few sounds other than wails and angry shouts could be heard beyond the restless noise of the ocean.

‘Shout for help if you want. Run if you desire. Just know that you will die and we will escape and your death will have been a complete waste.’

‘What I want is you tell me what you want,’ said the mage. He was called Palant. It was at least the tenth time he had rephrased the question. ‘Then will I help.’

His elvish was passable. A bit confused but mostly comprehensible. He had a broad bruise growing across his chin and lower jaw and he had several chipped teeth. A headache too, probably, and he kept on working his jaw from side to side to relieve the aching and stiffness.

‘You plant those traps of magic - what did you say they are called?’

‘Wards.’

‘Wards.’ The Balaian word sat uncomfortably on Katyett’s tongue. ‘We need access to the harbour master’s warehouse and we don’t want to explode before we get there. You will dig them up, or whatever you do.’

‘Dis-spell,’ said Palant.

‘That’s why you’re in front. You hit the bad stuff first.’

‘A fire or ice ward will kill us all,’ said Palant.

‘You first,’ said Merrat. ‘Fancy it much?’

Palant shook his head. ‘Wards are thick approach south. In buildings walls high.’

‘You di - dis - spell them.’

‘Why? You me kill any ways.’

‘That remains possible,’ said Katyett. ‘But not as certain as if you don’t.’

‘No need dis-spell to them,’ said Palant. ‘No wards on sea side approaches.’

‘Oh,’ said Katyett, surprised. She took out a knife, clamped a hand over Palant’s mouth and slid the blade between his ribs and into his heart. ‘Thank you.’

The Tai ran, turning right at the next junction, heading back towards the harbourside. Palant might have been lying but Katyett did not think so. It made partial sense if you thought about it. She supposed there had to be a safe corridor to get people in and out of the area. But to leave every harbour approach clear was careless.

They picked their way through the wreckage of Ynissul businesses that had crammed the docks with life and commerce less than ten days ago. From a vantage point inside a partially collapsed shop, they could see a guard of eighteen soldiers and three mages spread across the front of the warehouse.

Most were gathered around a large timber fire about midway between water and warehouse. Others patrolled in front. The warehouse doors, damaged when Pelyn had made her escape, had been competently patched up. Guards walked up and down the sides of the warehouse. Their attention was not keen. The warehouse had been built for strength and security.

‘No one is going near the door,’ said Merrat. ‘Look.’

She was right. In fact, now they looked, a semicircle of barrels Katyett had assumed were makeshift seats marked a no-go area. The door must have had wards placed on it.

‘There goes our first plan,’ said Katyett. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Can a ward be so delicate it triggers by just walking too close?’ asked Grafyrre.

‘I’d ask Palant but I’m afraid he’s a little under the weather,’ said Katyett a little sharply. ‘We don’t know so we don’t risk.’

‘You misunderstand. I think we need to brief everyone inside before we liberate them. I just want some idea what would trigger whatever it is on the doors. They’ll have spun them some story inside. But what’s the truth?’

Katyett smiled. ‘Fair enough. Well, we can’t ask the humans and I still say there’s too many to take on in this much space, so let’s go and ask our friends, shall we? But let’s be careful. We don’t know how far up the roof that ward spreads.’

The three TaiGethen moved in cover towards the rear of the warehouse. Palant’s information on wards focused their attention. They watched guards approach, stop, turn and head back. Counting paces, marking exact distances and moving with caution.

When they were agreed on a strategy, Katyett led them closer. Precious little noise came from within. Most would be asleep. Katyett was gambling that each thread would have marked its own area and set guards against attack by others. She had no idea how many were within but it had to number thousands.

Cramped. And revolting by now.

The guard was almost at the end of his patrol. He stopped, looked towards the end of the warehouse and turned on his heel. Katyett waited until he had moved away five paces. She beckoned her Tai to follow her. They moved quickly and silently, beginning to climb immediately. The warehouse was made of sturdy timbers strengthened with iron bands and with a pitched roof of slate. It had withstood hurricanes, arson and attempted robbery. The harbour master was proud of his store and maintained it in superb condition.

It all made for an easy climb. Not a rivet was out of place, not a timber was loose. The TaiGethen had swarmed up the wall and onto the roof well before the guard returned. They crawled along to the skylight left partially open by Pelyn. Katyett stuck her head through the opening and withdrew it in the same movement. Her eyes were watering.

‘Dear Yniss save us, it reeks in there.’

She took a deep breath and took a second look. The warehouse had been stripped of everything down to the last shelf and rack. The floor space was covered in sleeping bodies. Elves walked to and fro. As she expected, there were distinct gaps between various groups indicating division along thread lines.

At the southern end, with what looked like the less numerous Cefans nearest, were what passed for latrines. A few boxes had been set in a row and had holes knocked in the tops to sit over. The boxes sat on sailcloth which had been tied around them. It was woefully inadequate. Katyett could see pools of urine and excrement at the base of every box. Other pools indicated where some had not bothered to wait for a box to be free, or perhaps could not face sitting where they were supposed to.

Down by the doors there was a single length of rope laid in a semicircle, matching the barrels without. The floor was clear inside this boundary. Katyett scanned the floor quickly. The threads were in rough thread longevity order from door to latrines. To the left of the doors was a small group. No guards. Katyett looked more closely. She counted them. Thirty-four. Covered in sheets.

Katyett withdrew her head. Her expletives surprised even Graf and Merrat.

‘They haven’t even let them move their dead,’ she said and felt sick in the pit of her soul. ‘We need to end this. Right now.’

‘Can we get down?’ asked Merrat.

‘It’s a couple of jumps but nothing as tricky as crossing the Ix at Taanepol. I’ll lead.’

Katyett dropped through the skylight, her hands gripping its edge and hanging briefly before dropping down to the gantry. She scanned its length and the spurs that led off to maintenance points and other skylights around the roof. She cursed quietly. Merrat and Grafyrre joined her.

‘Problem?’ asked Grafyrre.

‘You could say. The ladders are gone.’

The Tai cell looked down on the crowded, stinking warehouse floor.

‘How far to the floor - a hundred feet?’ said Grafyrre.

‘Something like that,’ said Katyett. ‘But getting down isn’t the problem. We can use the roof beams and eaves to get us to the top of the walls and we can drop from there. But look at the walls. That damned blue paint the master’s so attached to. Glossy and slippery. You might be TaiGethen but try and climb those.’