Al-Arynaar were a heavy presence at the temple piazza, where the mood was ugly and where the crimes of two days ago seemed likely to be repeated. The TaiGethen and nearly every Ynissul were gone to the Ultan and were planning their next moves. Everyone knew they were there. No one thought to attack them.
‘Good for them,’ muttered Pelyn, idly sifting through papers and records in the wrecked offices behind the Gardaryn chamber.
At least the ships had ceased their approach. No doubt they were awaiting a signal but Pelyn had been unable to find out from whom that might be.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Just thinking aloud, Methian. Tual’s eyes, what a mess. Was there any motive for this beyond the desire for mayhem?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Methian and his face was grim. ‘Addresses. The whole public record is here. Or it was. Details of senior administrators and officials from every thread are missing, as far as we can tell. I mean, we haven’t found them so far but it looks to me as if those particular records were picked over with more care than others. That and the treasury information. People have known where to go and what to look for. Some people will be getting very rich on this.’
‘And do what with it?’ asked Pelyn.
Methian gestured vaguely towards the sea. ‘Pay for mercenaries from the north, perhaps?’
‘What a cheery thought.’
‘I try my best.’
Pelyn looked at Methian. Around them, mainly Gyalan Al-Arynaar were sifting the documents and parchments scattered across the floor and trying to restore some kind of order. Methian looked dreadful. No sleep for two days and the constant struggle to keep the Al-Arynaar a cohesive unit in the face of increasing animosity were terribly draining.
‘Thank you for standing with me.’
‘I would not dream of doing otherwise.’
A door banged open at the rear of the Gardaryn. Pelyn heard her name called. She sighed and felt her exhaustion sap a little more of her will.
‘In here!’
A frightened Cefan Al-Arynaar runner entered. His face was filthy and his hands grimy and bloodstained.
‘Down on the harbourside. There’s going to be big trouble if it hasn’t started already. We’ve got gangs of Tuali, Beethans and Orrans squaring up over the harbour master’s warehouse. Ixii and Apposans too. Plenty of goods still inside. We’re between them right now, but if they want to, they can overwhelm us.’
Pelyn nodded. ‘Right. Methian, you stay here. Carry on this work. If you get harassed, back off. Get back to the playhouse or the barracks. No fighting if you can avoid it. I’ll take the standing guard from the central market. Ready to run back, young Jakyn?’
Jakyn nodded. ‘It’s bad out there. You can smell it.’
‘Trust me,’ said Pelyn. ‘We’ll beat this. Somehow.’
‘We could do with a few TaiGethen at the moment.’
‘We can always do with a few TaiGethen. But it’s just us so let’s not fret. We’ll stand in line and be strong, all right?’
Jakyn nodded and the two of them ran out of the Gardaryn and onto the hostile streets of Ysundeneth.
Chapter 16
Battles are fought more in the mind than with sword or bow. Serrin looked for all the world as if he had been for a gentle stroll in the eaves of the rainforest. His white-painted face bore no signs of stress but his eyes were anxious. Ynissul from every group in the Ultan rushed to him, looking for blessing, desperate for hope. He stopped by each in turn, placing his hands on foreheads, shoulders and cupping chins. Katyett stood as he approached, having to restrain Olmaat from trying to do the same.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Olmaat. I think he’ll understand.’
Katyett opened her arms and blessed the air. The TaiGethen around her followed her lead. Priest Serrin returned her gesture. He walked into her embrace and kissed her mouth and eyes.
‘Yniss bless you, Katyett and your TaiGethen.’ He nodded his head at the assembled Ynissul in the Ultan. ‘Such pain. It is much worse here than I feared.’
‘Lead us in prayer and we will talk,’ said Katyett. ‘I have no good news for you, my priest. And you are travelling alone.’
‘Not all news is quite so grim.’
Serrin knelt, placing one hand on the stone of the Ultan and opening his other palm to the sky. Katyett saw Ynissul everywhere mirroring him, though few would hear the words from this quiet elf uncomfortable with speech and completely alien to raising his voice.
‘Yniss, lord of gods and father of us all, hear us. Enemies sully our land. The hands of your own would crush the souls of elves. Let Tual guide our hands as we destroy our enemies. Let Shorth embrace those innocents who stand unwillingly before him. Let our faith embrace all those who waver and give them comfort. Let anger and forgiveness, mercy and vengeance guide our hearts. Let us not falter. I, Serrin, ask this of you.’
Serrin stared into Katyett’s eyes and she shuddered at the passion she saw within.
‘Now we will talk,’ he said. ‘And I will seek the forgiveness of my god for all the words I must speak.’
‘Yniss forgives those who sacrifice themselves in his name.’
Serrin smiled. ‘It will not stop the soreness in my throat.’
Serrin switched his gaze at the sound of Olmaat coughing. He moved swiftly to the side of the stricken elf, laying hands on his chest and smoothing the salve that covered his forehead.
‘Rest, my brother. Release the pain in your soul. Retain the anger.’ Katyett watched Serrin frown and stare deep into Olmaat’s eyes, right into his soul. ‘You have seen it too, haven’t you? What men have brought with them. And you have felt it. Stay with us. We need you.’
Olmaat’s eyes were damp and he grabbed one of Serrin’s wrists. ‘I have no intention of going anywhere. There is vengeance to be delivered.’
Serrin nodded. ‘Yet mercy must also exist in your soul, my brother.’
‘What I have seen leaves little room for that.’
Serrin kissed Olmaat’s eyes. ‘Yniss will guide you.’
The Silent Priest stood and gestured Katyett to him. He took her by an elbow and led her away from the ears of others. Katyett felt nervous. There were things Serrin did not know. Terrible things. And she feared the inevitable question. He seemed to sense her anxiety.
‘Is Auum still alive?’ she asked, hoping to deflect him for a moment.
Serrin released her elbow and instead put an arm about her shoulders.
‘It is very difficult to kill Auum. More difficult with each passing day.’ He paused. ‘Jarinn is dead, is he not? I can see no way in which he could be allowed to live.’
Katyett felt stunned. She stopped and looked briefly away to Ysundeneth, where fresh smoke was rising into the darkening sky
‘How can you know that?’ she asked. ‘He was murdered by men acting for an Ynissul cascarg. Hithuur. Olmaat was burned trying to save him.’
Serrin sucked in his lip. ‘Hithuur? The betrayal goes high. What I have seen. Katyett… Auum was forced to spill the blood of men on the floor of Aryndeneth. They unleashed their magic in the temple. Sildaan has betrayed us too and seeks a return of the Ynissul to dominance over the elves. Throughout the rainforest, villages fear a new War of Bloods. Hope is dying out there.’
Katyett wiped a hand across her mouth. ‘Sildaan. Not a name I would have associated with this.’
‘I presume Takaar was denounced?’
‘And that denouncement unleashed a tide of hatred across Ysundeneth. The temple of Yniss has been burned and hundreds died inside. Ynissul are being targeted for slaughter by every other thread. I had to bring them here or risk more lives. Is Sildaan really the architect of this? It makes no sense. She wants dominance yet it is Ynissul who are dying in their hundreds. There will be too few left. She’s just handing power to the Tualis.’
Serrin shook his head. ‘It goes higher than Sildaan. It must do. Into the higher echelon of the priesthood. Lorius may have set the denouncement in motion but he would not have wished for this, I’m certain.’
‘Indeed not. He died alongside Jarinn.’
Serrin gasped. ‘Lorius too? That is a heavy blow. The Tualis are without reason now. Who survived?’