“I probably could,” he said, face expressionless. “But only with a great deal of thought. However, it’s nice to know we do agree on something.” To his amazement, she was taken aback, as if it had never occurred to her that
he
might not want to marry
her
. “You didn’t imagine that I would—” he began, and then stopped. “Oh, you really did, didn’t you? You thought I would
want
to wed you.”
“Everyone wants to marry me,” she said.
“Not this sand-grubber. I may be a dolt from the Gibber, but I’m not so sandcrazy that I would want to marry a bad-tempered spoiled brat, even if she is passably pretty.”
He realised he’d gone too far when he saw the flash of fire in her eyes, pure hate. She stalked off, anger smouldering in every line of her body, leaving him regretting his words.
As if I don’t already have enough enemies
, he thought.
Waterless wells, you’re a fool, Jasper.
“You do have to marry her,” a voice behind him said.
He spun around to come face-to-face with Laisa.
Amused by his startled surprise, she said, “You really should practise keeping part of your senses tuned to your surroundings, you know. People should not be able to sneak up on you.”
“You were sneaking, Laisa?” he asked, unsmiling.
She ignored that. “You and Senya
will
marry. Make no mistake about that. You have no choice. And soon. We need other stormlords born, and a union of you two is our best chance.”
“She’s too young.”
“She’s just turned sixteen. Old enough.”
The only emotion he could feel right then was grief. He turned on his heel, and headed for his room.
That evening he did not join the Almandine family for dinner. One part of him might have happily bedded Senya, but he found it hard to face her across the table. And the thought that he might have to do that every day of his life appalled him.
“Wake up! Wake up, my lord!”
Jasper stirred sleepily. Since he’d been shifting water, he slept so heavily it was hard to wake. It wasn’t until Morion grabbed him by the shoulder and roughly shook him that he roused.
“Whaddisit?” he muttered, opening a sleepy eye.
“We’re about to be attacked!”
That brought him to his feet in an instant. The world beyond his open shutters was alive with noise: indistinct shouts, running footsteps, banging doors. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“Quick, get dressed.” Morion, his eyes stark with fear, shoved some clothes into his arms. “Those sandgrubbing Reduner bastards are attacking the city. Or they will be by dawn. Lord Kaneth and Elmar rode in a while back. They’ve been riding two straight days with Reduners right on their heels sending ziggers after them.”
“Are they all right?”
“Heard they were the only two left. There were twelve of them when they set out.”
Jasper winced. Ten men dead, just like that?
He looked down at the tunic and trousers as he tried to absorb the news. “Travelling clothes?” he asked.
“Highlord Nealrith’s orders for any emergency. Hurry, m’lord.” He flung a pack down on the bed. “This is to take with you. There’s food inside, a change of clothes, tokens, some instructions—”
Jasper scrambled, the sense of urgency having finally penetrated his senses, even as he protested. “I’m not going anywhere, Morion. How can I leave if we are being attacked? It is my duty to help defend—”
“That it is not,” a voice interrupted, and Jasper looked up, startled. Kaneth entered, haggard and dirty. There was dust on his clothes, and dried blood. Yet his voice was steady, his gaze cool, his words as pragmatic and as cynical as usual. “If Davim enters this city, my guess is the first person he’ll be asking after is you. And you wouldn’t enjoy the meeting. Your duty, above all else, is to get to a place of safety. If anything happens to you, none of us have a future.” Then his eyes spied the open shutters, and he momentarily lost his calm. “And what the pedepiss are you doing leaving the shutters open? There’ll be thousands of ziggers out there soon!” He dived across the room and slammed them closed.
“I’m supposedly a stormlord—how can I run away?” Jasper asked.
“And just how many ziggers can you kill if you can’t draw out their water?” Kaneth asked.
Jasper flushed and fell silent as he pulled on his trousers.
“Nealrith just asked me to make sure you know what you have to do. Laisa, Granthon, Ethelva and Senya will be going with you. You’ll head south to the coast and Portennabar. Laisa will be your protection. Her rainlord skills are not too bad. You’re to meet in Granthon’s rooms. I’ll take you there.”
He grabbed up Jasper’s pack and sword and hustled him out of the door towards the Cloudmaster’s quarters. Jasper was still trying to tie his tunic.
“Morion said you had a hard time getting back here. What happened?” he asked, running to catch up. Two women servants hurried past in the opposite direction, wide-eyed and worried.
Kaneth said, “The advance guard were trying to cut us off. They didn’t want us to warn the city. Most of my men were killed. Ziggers. Damn, but I loathe those whining winged bastards!”
“How much time do we have?”
Kaneth gave a hollow laugh. “The first of their warriors were on our heels. Maybe half the run of a sandglass behind us. That’s all. Oh, the full army won’t be here until tomorrow, but there’ll be ziggers over the walls any time now. I doubt that everyone will hear the warning in time. I’m not sure we can even get you out before they get here.”
They halted outside Granthon’s door. It was open and the Cloudmaster’s room was crowded with people. Servants had brought in a litter, and the Cloudmaster was sitting on the edge of it, about to lie down. He was glowering at everybody. Ethelva hovered nearby, her grey hair loose and untidily ruffled. Lord Gold was flicking water onto Granthon’s head, murmuring a prayer at the same time. A couple of armed guards and a manservant stood next to the shuttered windows, silent and watchful.
Laisa and Senya had just entered, clutching water skins, packs and a lantern. Laisa regarded the scene calmly, her travelling clothes neat and practical, yet flattering; Senya was wide-eyed with a mixture of fright and excitement and looked as if she had dressed in a hurry. She was, as usual, wearing a calf-length skirt and frilly over-blouse. Jasper had never seen her dressed any other way.
“I’m off to my post on the walls,” Kaneth said quietly to Jasper. “Zigger-killing. You take care, Jasper.” He hesitated, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. Finally, he settled for, “You deserve better than this, but it’s all you’ve got. I’m sorry.”
The lump in Jasper’s throat was painful. “I know,” he said. “Don’t worry, I know.”
Kaneth nodded, and then he was gone. Jasper entered the room, just in time to hear Granthon mutter, “A stormlord shouldn’t have to leave his city.”
“I know, dear,” Ethelva said. “But you have to live for us all to survive. Now lie down, and these good men will carry you down to the pede.”
“I don’t feel well,” he said.
“Then lie down,” she repeated.
Instead, he doubled over. His hands clutched at his upper body and his face contorted. Then, silently, he toppled from the litter onto the floor. Ethelva tried to catch him but wasn’t strong enough to break his fall. She ended up on her knees beside him.
Jasper stared. Granthon’s eyes were wide open in a sightless gaze.
Oh waterless damn
, he thought, aghast.
That
can’t
have just happened.
Before anyone reacted, there was a high-pitched whine outside the window. Lord Gold glanced that way, then knelt at the Cloudmaster’s side.
“Is Grandpa dead?” Senya asked, her eyes large and round.
“I rather think so,” Laisa said, sounding more exasperated than upset. “And those are ziggers whining at the shutters.”
“Lady Ethelva, his spirit has left him,” Gold confirmed.
Ethelva looked at him blankly.
Jasper remained stunned with horror.
The Cloudmaster of the Quartern is dead.
Which meant he, Jasper, was now the only stormlord the land had. He pushed away the terror of that. His heart thudded in his chest.
Later, I’ll think about it later.
Laisa moved to touch Ethelva on the shoulder. “We should go,” she said.
Ethelva looked up at her, not understanding. “Go? And leave him? I cannot do that.”
“There is nothing you can do here.” Laisa pointed out with calm logic. “He is dead. And he would want you safe in Portennabar.”
Ethelva, leaning heavily on Lord Gold’s arm, stood up. She said, with heartbreaking dignity, “My husband has just died. I will do my best for his city, and I will attend to the proper disposal of his water. That is my duty. It is yours to protect the next generation, Laisa.” She beckoned to Senya and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Be the best rainlord you know how to be, my dear.” Then she turned back to Lord Gold. “Can you protect us from the ziggers while we accompany the body downlevel to the House of the Dead? I wish the ceremonies to take place there, as is customary.”
Laisa shrugged and turned to Jasper. “You ready?”
He returned her look numbly. “The ziggers?”
Senya gave him a scornful look. “We don’t have to go out into the street. Don’t you know
anything
?”
“Nealrith had all contingencies covered,” Laisa said. “Follow me.”
“My father has had this planned for ages,” Senya told him smugly as they hurried along the passage. “An escape route we can use if there are ziggers in the city. The waterhall first, then down through a tunnel to the thirtieth level. There’s a secret room there where we can hide until the fighting is over and we’ve won.”
He blinked, wondering if she could believe that.
Won?
Could a handful of rainlords and a few hundred guards win against hordes of Reduners with ziggers? And didn’t she even care her grandfather had just died?
In the waterhall, lit by an extravagance of oil lamps, workmen were constructing a stone wall to block most of the tunnel leading to the mother cistern in the Warthago Range. A hole at the bottom of the barrier allowed water to pour through. The waterhall’s two reeves watched the workers in a worried fashion. Ryka Feldspar was leaning against a wall with her eyes closed. A number of guards lounged about, fidgeting in edgy boredom.
“Are there Reduners out there?” Laisa asked, addressing her question to Ryka.
Ryka looked up wearily. “Not now. At least not within range of my powers. Their damn ziggers killed three of my men, though.” She indicated the floor, and Jasper saw that the flagstones were littered with dried-up zigger bodies.
“Where’s your father?” Laisa asked.
“Up on the North Wall. Trying to kill ziggers before they cross the wall into the city.” She shrugged. “Not easy in the dark.” She glanced at a wall niche where sand sifted through a sandglass. “Another two runs till dawn. I don’t know that he’ll make it. He’s not alone, but there are only four of them up there.” She meant four rainlords. “Four for the whole of the Level One wall, plus the Level Two escarpment wall.” She smiled wanly. “I don’t think they are going to make all that much difference, do you?”
Jasper licked dry lips.
Laisa didn’t comment. She was already turning to the nearest of the guards, asking him to open the trapdoor in the floor close to where the man stood. “Disguise the entrance after us,” she added to one of the reeves as the guard pulled up the cover. He nodded, as if he had been briefed on that already.
Nealrith planned for all this
, Jasper thought.
The wall across the tunnel, our escape routes, every rainlord knowing where to go and what to do. Even the pack I carry was prepared for me beforehand. And yet they scorn Rith as a weak ruler.
Ryka asked Jasper, “Kaneth? Did you see Kaneth?”
He nodded. “He went to the walls. I don’t know which part.”
She nodded, as if that was what she had expected to hear. Jasper turned away, unable to face the panicked expression in her eyes.
She really cares for him
, he thought in surprise.
She’s sick with worry, but it’s for him, not herself.
With the lantern in her hand, Laisa climbed into the hole and Senya followed, fussing about her skirts. Jasper climbed down after her and found himself in a dry brick tunnel. The reeve shut the trapdoor after him.
“It leads to the groves with one exit between,” Laisa told him, “on the thirtieth level. We aren’t going to bump into anyone coming up the other way. At least I hope not, because that would mean that the Reduners have found the outside entrance in the groves.”
“They won’t, will they?” Senya asked. Any semblance of scornful superiority had vanished. The sight of the dead ziggers had shaken her.
“Unlikely,” her mother said. “The entrance is under the water in one of the grove cisterns.”
“I don’t like this,” Jasper said. “We shouldn’t be running away. If the Reduners are using ziggers, only rainlords—you and Senya included—can stop them.”
Laisa turned on him in a fury. “Do you think I want to run? If we don’t win tonight, I lose everything I’ve ever worked to have. I’d rather be up there killing ziggers than down here hiding. But you and Senya are the future, the only future we have. And I’ve been elected the one to secure that future. If Breccia City loses the battle tonight—tomorrow—I’m the one who has to escort you to safety. Now get going.”