Garan jerked to his feet. ‘I think you’ll find I know pretty bloody well. That one bastard and his ghost priest killed nineteen of my men. And now he’s slaughtered my second in command and four of my mages before the ice has melted from his hair. So you’ll excuse me if I don’t feel like hearing “I told you so” right now.’
‘You’ve no idea what you’ve done, have you?’ said Sildaan.
‘But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’
Sildaan walked towards him. ‘Right now, Auum will be organising a muster of the whole TaiGethen order. And their sole focus will be on ripping out your still-beating heart.’
‘Well it isn’t as if there are that many of them,’ said Garan.
‘Considering just one has managed to kill twenty-four of your finest, there don’t have to be many of them, do there?’ Sildaan wondered if she’d slipped her knife into the wrong ally. ‘And he’s not even the best of them. He’s young and his skills aren’t complete. Think about it.’
‘I’m thinking the rest of the temple Tais did not present too much of a problem.’
‘Indeed, but killing the rest with a single casting won’t be so easy, will it?’
‘My mages will deal with them. Don’t worry about it.’
Sildaan gestured at the bodies around the pool. ‘I do not share your confidence. What is it that’s stopping you understanding just how dangerous the TaiGethen are?’
‘I think I’ve outlined how aware I am.’
‘Then you aren’t listening to your own words. There are TaiGethen cells across the rainforest. A few in each major city too. You don’t see them unless they want to be seen. Your damn mages can’t cast on something they can’t see, can they? Any TaiGethen has the authority to kill any stranger they find in the forest. They are not required to ask you questions.
‘They kill without error and without mercy. They are quick and they are silent. They are utterly loyal to Takaar and the harmony of the elves. He is their father as much as Yniss is their god. Not one will waver one iota. That makes them our mortal enemies. And you, Garan, have managed to unite them into a single force with a common goal. Now that may not worry you but, in your language, it scares the shit out of me.’
Garan looked a little uncertain for the first time. ‘How many of them are there?’
‘It’s hard to say at any one time,’ said Sildaan, blowing out her cheeks. ‘If we assume all are alive barring those we know to be dead, probably around ninety.’
‘Ninety?’
‘Now you’re getting it.’
‘You’ve been less than clear about this so far, that’s what I’m getting. We need more men. Particularly if your Al-Arynaar side with them too.’
‘The Al-Arynaar will be split. We’ve seen to that. And we don’t need more men. We need smarter men, don’t you think?’
Garan took on that arrogant air that Sildaan was learning to hate in men.
‘You’ve put me in charge of the muscle and mayhem. And I say we need more men.’
‘You’ve got all you’re going to get on the payroll of the new Ynissul, Garan. You need to manage your losses better. You forget that any reinforcements are on Balaia. That’s a lot of days of delay. Thirty at least.’
‘And you forget that having managed to get rid of your every elven warrior, you’re very much alone right now.’ Garan’s smile was unpleasant. ‘Aren’t you?’ ‘It’s like the tidal wave that hit Tolt Anoor. You can feel it. You might even be able to hear it. Building and building. And there’s nothing you can do about it. The sea has been sucked away from your feet and the wall is about to crash down. That moment of peace and silence. That’s now, isn’t it?’
Katyett raised her eyebrows. Merrat had put her finger on it. The bizarre atmosphere of peace in Ysundeneth. It had descended after the break-up of the mob at the temple piazza and had left the nighttime streets deserted. Haunted only by chanting and shouting.
The news of the deaths of Lorius and Jarinn had spread to every quarter of the city. Messenger birds had been thick in the sky. Dawn had brought crowds to the Gardaryn, the temple piazza and the Hausolis Playhouse. People wanting answers or a place to pour out their grief or anger. Al-Arynaar, the three hundred or so who had turned up for duty, were guarding the key establishments and patrolling as heavily as numbers allowed. Pelyn was visiting those whose consciences troubled them and more would join the ranks as the day progressed.
What struck Katyett was the veneer of normality. The fishing fleets had sailed. Ships were loading and unloading. All the markets were open and visited by members of every thread without apparent animosity. But behind the smiles the eyes gave away the truth.
‘Just keep watching,’ said Katyett. ‘Somewhere, it’ll happen. We need to be ready to move.’ Trade was feverish. Gerial should have been happy, but every time he looked down at his credit sheets and coin purse he wondered if it was all about to be rendered pointless. Beneath his stall stacked with fresh fruits and vegetables was his machete. He couldn’t raise any shame about bringing it out today.
The central market was heaving. A hundred stalls carrying every type of produce available in Ysundeneth. Two hours into the morning session and some were already running short of stock. It was curious. He didn’t see anyone actually panicking but everyone he served from regulars to the occasional was buying that bit more. Preparing for tomorrow, whatever it looked like.
‘Father?’
Gerial turned. Nillis and his idiot friend Ulakan were breasting though the crowd, shouting, bargaining, arm-waving and pointing. Tall proud Tualis, the pair of them, but Ulakan was trouble. Never happy with his lot. Jealous of the Ynissul grasp on immortality. He’d been at the temples yesterday. Nillis, thankfully, had stayed away. The difference in their expressions this morning could not have been more stark.
Nillis, anxious but hopeful. Ulakan, angry and disdainful. Gerial watched him push others aside as he came, Gyalans and Beethans shoved from his path. Gerial hadn’t seen an Ynissul in the market bar a cell of TaiGethen a little earlier on. He cleared his throat.
‘Ulakan, those people are my customers,’ said Gerial.
‘You shouldn’t be serving them,’ muttered Ulakan.
Gerial felt his face flush. ‘Really? Fancy a mango?’
Gerial held out a fruit. Ulakan reached out his hand, a smirk on his face.
‘Tuali food for-’ he began.
‘Tended by Gyalans, harvested by Apposans and set on this stall by Ixii,’ said Gerial. ‘Still want it? You’re an idiot. Get away from my stall. Nillis, I need you. What did you want anyway?’
Nillis looked briefly at Ulakan, who was staring at Gerial like a slighted child.
‘You’re being undercut by Heol and old Jasif. You should see the crowds at their stalls.’
‘Then they’re as stupid as your friend, aren’t they? Why would you cut your prices on a day as packed as this?’
‘They can feel what’s coming,’ said Ulakan. ‘So they want to sell and get out. Perhaps it’s you that’s being stupid.’
Gerial shook his head. ‘Take your mouth and get away from my stall. You’re no longer welcome here or in my home.’
‘But-’ began Ulakan, gesturing at Nillis.
‘Then use your brain before you open your mouth. We don’t need your views. Tualis moved on a long time ago. About time you caught up.’
Ulakan made to say something else but thought better of it. Gerial watched him turn. An ula looking in another direction collided with him, bouncing off his strong frame.
‘Sorry, my friend.’
‘I’m not your friend, little-life,’ snapped Ulakan, shoving him hard in the chest.
The Gyalan stumbled back off balance and half fell into the back of a group of others buying at a fresh meat stall. Gerial shouted a warning, but in the bustling crowd no one could hear him. One of the buyers sprawled into the display of meat. Trays clattered and fell. The stall shook and a leg cracked. Meat slithered onto the ground.
The group of buyers turned. The stallholder – Kithal, a big, burly Apposan farmer – ran around to try and save his produce. Ulakan was laughing. The Gyalan straightened. The buyers around him grabbed him but he shook them off. He ran straight at Ulakan and threw a punch. Ulakan dodged it and slammed his own fist into the ula’s stomach, another into his face.