‘Do not interfere,’ the apparition told him, and he was unceremoniously flung aside through the air to land tumbling.
Blinking, dazed, he squinted while the things seemed to disintegrate into dust before his very eyes. He blinked again. Dust. Dust? And bones? The Army of Dust and Bone?
So – they were here for her. Well, not without a fight. He clambered to his feet and staggered after Shalmanat. The door opened on to a narrow hall that led to the spire. Here he started up the circular staircase. He lost his breath about halfway but grimly carried on, teeth clenched, gasping in air.
He gained the top landing to find himself once more facing the rear of the four members of the Army of Dust and Bone. Two turned to face him, bony hands going to the grips of flint weapons thrust through twisted hide belts.
‘Leave her alone!’ he demanded. Shalmanat stood at the balcony of the spire, her chin raised, defiant. The wolf-headdress creature turned at his call. ‘She is not your enemy,’ Silk told it.
‘No. This is why she still lives.’
‘Then what do you want!’ Silk yelled.
Wolf-headdress raised a pole-thin arm of dried flesh over bone to her. ‘We are displeased to find one of her kind ruling here over you humans. This is distasteful to us.’
‘She has been our benefactor!’
‘None the less.’ The creature faced Shalmanat. ‘Liosan calls. It is time for you to return to your kind.’
Shalmanat shook her head, pushed her wind-tossed thin white hair from her tear-stained face. ‘No. You don’t understand. They would not have me.’
The creature drew a flint dagger. ‘Choose. Return to your kind … or face us.’
She snarled then, straightening. ‘Damn you pitiless Imass!’ And, grasping the ledge, she rolled herself over the top to disappear, her white linen shirt and trousers snapping in the wind.
Silk lunged forward, ‘No!’
He half leaned over the ledge, only to be blinded by a great flash of light from below, and he turned away, blinking. ‘What have you done?’
‘She chose wisely,’ the Imass said.
And with that the four suddenly dispersed into dust that quickly blew away. Silk slid down the wall of the balcony to hunch, head in hands, somehow still unable to understand. Was she gone? Really truly gone?
What ever would he do now?
Resistance in Li Heng collapsed as the account spread of witnesses seeing monstrous creatures flinging the Protectress to her death from the top of the spire. This, plus the apparent routing of the Cabal of Five, completely ended the hostilities.
Kellanved and Dancer entered the central palace unopposed.
They found it a littered mess vacant of all functionaries, guards and servants. Kellanved peered round at the overturned furniture and scattered scrolls and vellum sheets, then eyed Dancer. ‘Not the welcome I was expecting.’
Dancer suddenly pushed his companion back as dust gathered before them in a thickening gyre to coalesce into the forms of three T’lan Imass: Ay Estos in his wolf headdress, Tem Benasto in his sabre-toothed cat skull and the lean figure of Onos T’oolan. Tem Benasto grasped the leather-wrapped grip of the flint dagger at his waist. ‘You lied. No Jaghut can be found here. Only one woman of the Tiste Liosan – whom we dealt with.’
Kellanved spread his hands wide. ‘But I assure you—’
‘Too late,’ Ay Estos answered, like a sentence.
The Bonecasters nodded to T’oolan and he clasped a hand to the grip of his long two-handed flint blade. ‘You have been judged unworthy,’ Onos announced.
Dancer stepped between them, his blades drawn. He eyed the creature, saying, ‘First let’s see how we compare—’
A new shape appeared then: Ulpan Nodosha in his headdress of a gigantic cave bear. He raised a hand for a halt. ‘Vestiges of Omtose Phellack have been detected.’
T’oolan’s weapon fairly flew up and he spun. ‘What?’
Dancer saw then the speed of this Imass swordsman, and despaired. He knew nothing like it, save for the Dal Hon half-breed, Dassem.
‘Impossible,’ Tem answered. ‘We ourselves cleansed this land millennia ago.’
Ulpan Nodosha gave a nod of his gigantic bear skull headdress. ‘None the less. Along the river. And very recent.’
Tem turned to regard Kellanved. ‘This is … troubling. If true, you were right to bring it to our attention. We must pursue this.’
And with that all four sloughed away into dust. Kellanved waved his hands. ‘Wait! Are you going? Really going?’ He looked to Dancer and threw his hands in the air. ‘A little consideration – that’s all I ask!’
For his part Dancer resisted rubbing his neck in relief. That had been far too close. Fortunately, the little Dal Hon mage had been on top of things, but what of next time? If there ever was one, which, if he had any say, would be never.
Kellanved gestured aside with his walking stick. ‘Ah, here we are.’
Dancer glanced over and flinched, as there stood Ho. But it was not Ho, for that mage never possessed such an empty half-grin. It was one of the doppelgangers he and Kellanved had released. The quadruplet urged them to him, his grin twitching, and disappeared into a side room.
‘This way,’ Kellanved invited, and followed. Within, they found all four identical burly men. Three held the fourth subdued: one with a headlock, the others on each arm. The constrained one grunted, struggling and glaring. Kellanved approached and nodded to him. ‘Ho. You worried me the most. How was I to get the better of one such as you?’ He gestured to the other three. ‘Thankfully, you yourself provided the means.
‘Wrap him in chains,’ he told them, ‘and take him to the waterfront. A riverboat is waiting to take him to Cawn. There, a Napan vessel is provisioned and waiting for a long journey. A journey all the way to the lands of the Seven Cities.’
Ho, the cords of his neck straining, his lips drawn back, cut in: ‘Idiot! No prison can hold me.’
‘Oh, but this one can, I assure you. It is a prison perfectly suited for one such as you.’ He nodded to the three and, grinning, they proceeded to drag their brother away. ‘But watch out for the dust,’ Kellanved called after them. ‘It is a very dusty place.’
The Dal Hon mage offered Dancer a smug smile and motioned him onward. ‘There we are. The Protectress dealt with, as you heard. All that remains is to take possession.’
Dancer was not so sanguine. ‘I doubt anything could be as all settled as that.’
Kellanved headed out to the main hall, waving Dancer’s reservations aside. ‘You’ll see!’
The long hall led to the formal throne room where Shalmanat used to receive petitions and lower judgements. Here, Kellanved pointed to a robed functionary running past. ‘You there! Come here!’
The man gaped, scrolls and vellum sheets clasped to his breast. ‘Don’t kill me, m’lord!’ he pleaded.
‘Nothing of the sort, I assure you,’ the mage said soothingly. ‘Gather the court, please. These are my orders, yes?’
The fellow nodded jerkily. ‘The court, my lord?’
‘Yes. All those who wish to witness the change of rulership here in Heng. All interested parties. Yes?’
The palace clerk kept nodding. ‘Very good. Yes, m’lord. At once. As you order.’
‘Excellent.’ Kellanved bade him go with little shooing gestures of his hands. The fellow ran, sheets flying.
‘And what will this accomplish?’ Dancer asked, brows arched.
‘Witnesses, my friend. Vital.’ He raised a crooked thin finger. ‘Nothing happens unless it is witnessed.’
*
When Heboric arrived in Li Heng he immediately asked about the location of the main temple to Fener. Not surprisingly, it was located in the main garrison of the city, Fener being not only the Boar of Summer, but one of the acknowledged gods of war. Entering, he was surprised to find himself rather quickly assuming the role of High Priest of the temple, as none of the local adherents wore blessings of the boar beyond small tattoos upon their cheeks and wrists.