‘Gyalan scum!’
Elves turned. Gerial ran from behind his stall.
‘Calm down,’ he said, gesturing with his hands. ‘Ulakan, shut your stupid mouth.’
Gerial stooped to help the Gyalan up. The ula nodded his thanks.
‘What are you doing?’ Ulakan was beginning to shout, losing his temper. ‘He’s not one of us.’
Gerial turned on him. ‘It’s you who isn’t one of us. Nillis, get him out of here.’
A fist struck out, taking Nillis on the side of the head. Gerial swore and spun round again. There were people everywhere closing in, or so it seemed. Nillis was sprawled on the ground. Ulakan was bending to help him.
‘What did he do?’ shouted Gerial. ‘Stop this. Now.’
One of the buyers at Kithal’s stall pushed Gerial back.
‘No one laughs at me,’ he said.
‘No one was. One idiot child,’ said Gerial. ‘Calm yourself.’
‘Ordering me, are you? Tuali orders Beethan, is that it?’
The Beethan cocked a fist only to have his wrist grabbed by Kithal.
‘That ula is my friend,’ said Kithal. ‘As are you.’
‘Get your hand off me.’
The Beethan’s friends jumped on Kithal, bearing him to the ground. Gerial shouted for them to stop. The Beethan punched Gerial’s face. Gerial’s head spun and he fell to his knees. He felt hands around him.
‘Gerial, are you all right?’ Ulakan. Gerial nodded. ‘You may hate me but I’ll fight for you. For all Tualis.’
‘No,’ managed Gerial, spitting out a mouthful of blood. ‘Leave it.’
But Ulakan was already gone. There was a knife in his hands. Gerial watched him, his heart aching. He felt groggy. Nillis was by his side.
‘I’m all right,’ said Gerial. ‘Stop him. Ulakan.’
Ulakan jumped on the back of the Gyalan ula. Gerial saw the knife flash. The Gyalan collapsed. Blood pooled on the cobbles. Kithal’s stall was upturned. The farmer roared fury. His fists flew in a flurry. Gerial saw a head snap back. A Beethan slammed a meat tray into the back of Kithal’s head. The farmer slumped forward.
Gerial saw red. Katyett watched the riot spread across the marketplace like a rainstorm across the harbour. She watched the Al-Arynaar try and fail to restore order. She saw murder, looting and destruction. She saw her people begin to split and bunch. Ordinary elves this time. She saw her race begin to fracture.
‘The wall has fallen,’ she said. ‘Come on. Time to act.’ Night in Ysundeneth and the city was on fire.
Katyett had set up a makeshift centre of operations on the roof of the Hausolis Playhouse. It gave her views to all corners of the compass. It was also one of the few flat roofs in the city. It had a gentle camber to channel away rain without upsetting the acoustics of the auditorium.
Riots had blitzed the docks as the sun set. Several coastal merchant ships had been burned at their moorings. Dockside businesses had been wrecked, warehousing looted or destroyed. Ynissul ships, businesses and warehouses. Elves had been chased from their homes moments before the oil and torches fell. Ynissul elves. There had been no killing but it was only a matter of time.
Katyett had put out the word to the TaiGethen remaining in the city of where she was stationed. Tables had been set up and pinned to them were hastily drawn sketches of the city. On each were placed stones representing known flashpoints and the current positions of Al-Arynaar forces, and charcoal marks where any significant destruction had taken place.
‘Grafyrre, what’s the-’ In quick succession, three TaiGethen vaulted onto the roof. ‘Yniss preserve us, it doesn’t get any quieter, does it? What have you got for me?’
‘Significant move towards the spice market. They might be heading here,’ said one.
‘How many?’
Katyett trotted to the south edge and could see bobbing torches.
‘Two hundred at least.’
Grafyrre blew out his cheeks. Katyett looked at the other two.
‘What have you got?’
‘There’s a very big blaze about to be set in the Takaar Gardens. Predictable but it stinks of a diversion to me.’
‘All right. Well, it keeps them away from the buildings, I suppose. Al-Arynaar watching them?’
‘A good number. Not doing a lot to stop them, mind you.’
‘Damn it, Pelyn, where are you?’ Katyett rubbed a hand over her face. ‘And you?’
The third TaiGethen spread his hands. ‘It’s more a feeling than fact. A general movement back towards the temple piazza. Small groups here and there.’
‘Trying not to attract attention? Tual’s balls, who is orchestrating this?’ Katyett looked again at the crowd approaching the spice market. They were moving quickly and there were others joining them, the whole spreading out. ‘Graf, what’s happening your side?’
‘Got a lot of torches. Heading this way, I think.’
‘They mean to surround us,’ said Katyett. ‘Something’s going to happen at the temples. Who’s up there?’
‘A good number of Al-Arynaar, a lot of Ynissul inside our temple. I presume the priests and healers have all stayed put except the ones tending Olmaat downstairs,’ said Grafyrre. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. It just feels bad. We need to get the TaiGethen to the piazza. All of them.’ Katyett stared at her hands. They were trembling very slightly. She shuddered and circled her shoulders, trying to relieve sudden tension. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’
The faces of eight TaiGethen were turned to her.
‘You want us to leave the command post?’ asked Merrat. ‘What about Olmaat and the healers?’
‘When we’re done at the temple I want us to leave the city altogether. Olmaat is safe enough. They will not enter the playhouse. They fear what happened here. Tais, we move.’
Katyett led them. She headed for a corner of the roof, swung out and climbed down to the arch above the doorway faster than most could descend a ladder. With a quick glance towards the approaching torches, she jumped the last twenty feet, landing silently and running away towards the piazza, meaning to enter it at the northern end by the temple of Shorth.
Down at street level, Katyett felt blind. She had the eight with her and there were three other cells in the city monitoring trouble. A young TaiGethen came up to her left shoulder.
‘I’ve got the best route to the piazza,’ she said. ‘We can avoid the mobs and come in between Shorth and Gyal, up the stairs by the western sunken gardens.’
‘Thank you, Faleen, lead on. Merrat, Graf, I need you to trace the other cells. Bring them to the piazza as soon as you can.’
‘Consider it done.’
Katyett’s cell split left and right, sprinting away into the night. She followed Faleen, who darted down a tight alleyway that led south and east between houses and the walls of the Gardens of Appos. She felt more comfortable here. Temporarily, the noise of violence was muted and the high walls leaned in like a blessing from Cefu.
The alley led out onto a quiet street, cobbled and with small businesses and low, domed housing on either side. There were a few lights but most places were dark and silent. Ordinary elves were hiding indoors, frightened and anxious about what was happening in their city, to their way of life.
Here in streets like this was where the anger at what had consumed the city settled most deeply on Katyett. Ula and iad, young and old, parent and child. Every thread would be represented behind the closed doors and shuttered windows. Scant hours before, they had been going about their normal lives. Secure in the knowledge that Yniss blessed their every step and the harmony was with them, unbreakable. The silent, invisible security blanket that wrapped them all.
And then the denouncement had happened, and those who had determined it to be the moment the world of the elves returned to the days before the War of Bloods held sway in the city. Those who had organised the murder of Jarinn and Lorius had ensured the blood of all threads would be spilled.
Katyett had no idea if there was a way out for the innocents she passed by with her brothers and sisters. She had no idea if the harmony would survive this onslaught, and she couldn’t understand why any elf would want to rip it apart. Katyett could recall all too clearly the atrocities of the War of Bloods. They were at the root of her nervousness now. She could still feel the tears.