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Two men were at the top of the stairs, looking down. One glanced my way for just a moment before looking back.

“
What happens?” I demanded.

He looked my way again and gestured that I look. “The demon cooked himself dinner.”

Steaming gently, covered in oil, stinking of cooked flesh, skin red where it wasn't cracked and oozing or covered in blood from the thrusts of my sword, lay the two men I had doused in hot oil. I snorted in disgust. “Didn't stay to eat though.”

The two gave uneasy snorting laughs. At the bottom of the stairs another barbarian was looking up. “Want to help us move them?” Behind him half a dozen men were in the hall, milling nervously. If there had been less I would have shoved these two down the stairs and gone on from there, but ten seemed more than I could take.

“
You got plenty of help.”

I was about to move away and find easier prey when Sapphire struck in the hall below. I saw him moving, calm and deadly, short blade flashing in a killing stroke, the mortally injured man grunting even as Sapphire moved on. Two were down before anyone noticed he was there and I twitched out of my reverie, stepped around behind them and shoved my two companions down the stairs. Why had I hesitated? The time for acquiring facts was over, the time to think was past. Now was the time to act, I berated myself. So act.

Sliding my new sword out of its scabbard I descended the stairs, lopping the arm from the first man I reached; he had caught the banister, arrested his fall and got to his feet just as I struck. Kicking him away so that he fell before me, I carried on down. As chance would have it the second had fallen into the roasted bodies of his dead compatriots, and filled with disgust at their touch had stood, his back to the top of the stairs, only to be struck from his feet by his falling companion, blood spraying from the stump of his arm in measured steady arcs.

Measured and steady, that was the way Sapphire moved, calm and calculating, aware of everything around him and moving in complete control of the situation, as though he knew what everyone was going to do. The calm concentration he displayed on his face told the story clear. He was in complete control of himself, doing what needed to be done in the simplest most expedient fashion he knew. He could have been digging a ditch, I thought, and tried to adopt his attitude as I moved to dispatch the two tangled men; they were panicked, defensive, trying to get clear, even the one who was surely bleeding to death. By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs there was nothing more to do. Sapphire looked all about, never still but showing no sign of urgency.

“
What happened to the plan?”

“
I changed my mind. Confound the enemy with chaos and disorder.” I said.

He nodded. “Down.”

I ducked into a squat before I could stop myself and he smiled at me. “Don't lose that attitude,” he said.

“
Down it is. Head for the throne room.”

“
Eleven less?” He was doing a quick head count.

“
Fourteen,” I told him.

“
Good,” he walked away, making for the head of the stairs down to the next level.

As I followed I ran through the route to the audience chamber in my mind. Where Kukran Epthel doubtless awaited us, ready or unprepared made no difference to me at the moment. It wasn't so far and I knew the way.

#

It is strange how people react. We entered the public rooms of the building having had only one other encounter that took no time at all. Here the common people were about their business, waiting to see those would would decided their fate, no matter what reason had brought them here. They stood in small groups or alone, a magistrate or two moved among them, questioning and directing them. The normal day to day business of any administrative building. They totally ignored us; not that they didn't see, or turn their heads to follow our movement, not that they were unaware, it's just that they didn't do anything. One or two, I noted, began moving away. Others looked round hurriedly for guidance or for someone else to act. One or two ran. There were those who tugged a neighbor's sleeve and pointed us out. But the rest just watched us pass. Not my business, they seemed to be thinking, not my problem. They moved away where we passed too close but otherwise seemed like sheep watching a sheepdog; fascinated but not feeling the need to react just yet.

The drawing of steel and a cry to halt came from behind me; I turned and looked, saw he was not close enough to be a threat and moved on. I felt like Sapphire's shadow, going to do what needed doing or die doing it. The same voice gave an alert and then the sound of running footsteps as he came after us. I turned, generated Jocasta's spell form and covered him in burning oil. The screams made people act; they screamed and ran in all directions, petitioners and administrators alike. They all ran away from us in an expanding circle and we ignored them in our turn and moved on, fast but not panicked. Purposeful.

The alarm was spreading, being returned all around us, more from outside in the courtyard than inside the building. It wouldn't be long before we had problems. The carpeted corridor ahead of us lead to the audience chamber that Kukran Epthel used and we moved down it fast, heading for the two guards who stood outside the door that was our target.

Sapphire moved as though he knew what each man was going to do before he did it. Down to one knee and thrust to the groin, weapon clear and up and moving past the dying man before he had finished falling to his knees. Duck under a wild swing, turning on one heel and sword up under the ribs of the second, twist and tug free as the man hunched over the fatal wound. A look behind us and then turn and continue. I didn't glance back. He knew what was behind me and so did I, I could hear them coming, feet pounding on marble. Suddenly muted by carpet, the enemy pounded on toward us and I turned and raised the stone to spray hot death once more. It didn't happen. Gatren was among them, and had countered my spell. Behind him and around him were a half dozen men and more in the chamber behind.

Meran was among them.

#

We never made it to the door; the barbarians were coming too fast and we had to stop and fight as they reached us. Meran took two from behind and then it became chaotic.

Meran fought like a barbarian. Posing, shouting, intimidating. He was one of them and it showed. He needed to work himself up to attack and so did they. By comparison Sapphire was just killing people. It was what he was doing and nothing else. A barbarian shouted and lunged and Sapphire killed him. Another screamed and charged and died. There was no emotion in Sapphire as he fought. He was aware, each movement sure and controlled, every action certain. His face was expressionless, focused, concentrating on the job in hand. And me; I was fighting for my life and analyzing the difference between my companions. Insanity comes in many forms.

Gatren was an additional concern. He was trying to cast and I had to counter him, even though I had no idea what spells he might have learned, I knew for sure I didn't want to find out right now. His problem was his own men and the chaos of the fray. Mine was that I had to watch him and defend myself at the same time. A gap would open and he would stab out with his fist clenched, I would do the same, countering whatever ugly spell he was attempting. The numbers of his own allies hindered him; they were intent on us and not thinking to get out of his way so he could cast clean. His attention was focused on me, the inhibitor of his magic. And I was focused on him for the same reason. I could not spray hot oil everywhere while he was countering my spells and he could not do whatever he was doing while I was countering his. Meanwhile his men were dying.

I blocked a blow with my blade and stepped in with a short chop to the throat which ended in his eyes as he ducked in turn. Stepping aside I countered Gatren's spell and then thrust my blade into the staggering barbarian's floating ribs.
Leaping back as his fellow stop-thrust for my chest.
Sapphire continued to move through them calmly, each blow deadly, constantly moving, totally aware and focused on what he was doing and oddly calm as he killed and maimed. We were winning, and then something hit me a blow to the back of the head and I was suddenly on my hands and knees staring dully at the carpet. I moved, unthinking, half falling to my left, weight on one hip, legs tucked up and slashed wildly at whatever hit me. The blade made no contact and the world spun around me. I think I must have been struck again but I have no recollection of that.

#

The wrinkled face of Lentro swam before my eyes.

That seemed both odd and normal at the same time, yet I couldn't think why it should seem either one. I took a deep breath and moved slightly. Nothing seemed to hurt, which was a blessing.

I sat up with a jerk, causing Lentro to start. He leaped to his feet and moved away. Behind him I could see the throne of Kukran Epthel, the cadaver himself sitting upon it, watching me. I ignored him and looked round. The audience chamber was as I remembered it. I didn't count the zombies, but noted the addition of six guards who lined the back wall either side of the throne. They were brawny, competent looking men in mail armor that I recognized as having been looted off our noble dead. One wore mine, including the belt that made his form shimmer slightly. My swords were at his belt, his hand resting idly on the longer blade. I turned my head further. Sapphire was bound hand and foot, yet managed to look relaxed, sitting nearby and looking at me. The smile was gone from his face, his expression was neutral and his eyes as cold as ever.

“
What happened?”

“
We failed,” he said.

Beyond him I could see Meran. Like me he was not bound. He stood glaring about, clenching and unclenching his hands. He locked eyes with me and raised an eyebrow. I shook my head and climbed to my feet.

Lentro moved further away. I checked my fingers and found they was bare of rings, my tattoo had gone and my hands were my own.

“
Sumto, I thought you had decided to obey me.”

“
You were wrong,” I said mildly. My heart hammered in my chest as I wondered what further outrages they would now heap upon me. Living death? I looked at the eight zombies that lined the walls, noting this time the wealthy dress style of Gerrian chieftains. Those who had not accepted his incitement to rise against us, no doubt. No wonder their people had capitulated;
suddenly led by whichever man had been chosen to take the position made so drastically vacant.

“
In the long run I am never wrong. I can wait. You will serve me. They all do in the end. One way or another.

“
All slaves together? I don't think so.”

“
Those who obey me are not called slaves.”

“
Called slaves or not, everyone who obeys you is a slave so long as you wear the last king's amulet.” I had finally remembered where I had seen the symbol of the amulet he wore. In a book, of course, a history of our own people, telling the story of the last true king. The last king of the city had had it made, soaking a stone into its metal to fuel the power that it embodied. Obedience, it demanded. It murmured the concept unceasingly, day and night to all who saw it; 'obey me.'

He locked his dull dead gaze on mine and said nothing.

Lentro looked round, taking in the amulet and frowning slightly. His eyes narrowed as he craned slightly forward the better to see.

“
Don't you recognize it Lentro? Our ancestors killed him for making it. As soon as they saw its properties in action and knew it for what it was they resisted and slew him. He was the last true king of the city and now we have none, save in name to honor better men.”