Katyett nodded. ‘Good. And are we sure our mark has slipped away already?’
Pakiir chuckled. ‘Barely lasted two hundred yards.’
‘Good. And the first cascarg? The one asking all the questions at the Ultan?’
Merrat raised her eyebrows. Katyett nodded again.
‘Good. All is well. Opinions. Are we clear to turn this walking disaster area around and get it to the staging camp?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Pakiir.
‘I think they’ve suffered enough,’ said Olmaat.
‘I agree,’ said Merrat.
Katyett smiled. ‘Maybe not quite enough. Let’s make it a lazy left turn, shall we?’
‘You are a cruel mistress,’ said Olmaat, coughing violently as he thought to laugh.
‘Calm yourself, my brother. And I don’t mean it. The iads in particular need some sort of security. Let’s not waste time. And let’s not tell them what’s happening. Not just yet. See if anyone else needs flushing out before we get there.’
‘How far away are we?’ asked Olmaat.
‘Well, we’ve been heading in a nice gentle circle ever since we left the Ultan,’ said Merrat. ‘We’re about four hundred yards away, I should think.’
Olmaat managed a pained smile, it cracked his drying salve.
‘Want me to lead the way?’ Helias waited until Llyron and her acolytes had disappeared back across the market and away towards the Mural before so much as looking at Pelyn. She’d been laid on the ground and the Tuali had circled her in almost total silence, like a pack of animals awaiting the pack leader to make the first bite. The silence was unnerving. Pelyn had tried to speak but sharp kicks and jabs with staves and clubs cut short any attempt to get through.
When the last echoes of the wheels had faded, Helias walked into the circle and stood at Pelyn’s feet, blade in his hand. He gazed down at her and she met it, unflinching.
To flinch is to die.
Helias had not suffered too badly as a result of the fracturing of elven society in Ysundeneth. His clothing was fine and clean. His chin was shaven and his hair newly washed and tied back in a ponytail that he had draped over his left shoulder. Rumours of shortages of water had clearly not been entirely accurate as far as he was concerned. Or perhaps the Tuali had control of the wells and feeds. Most likely they did.
Pelyn tried to see inside him to the ula she knew very well and who had often been vocal in his support for her. The Al-Arynaar had replaced the civil peacekeepers very soon after Takaar’s flight and the closure of the gate. They were unpopular in some quarters, naturally. Helias had been right behind them.
But now, of course, the Al-Arynaar were the created arm of a discredited hero. The police of a society that no longer existed. And Helias was nothing if not a fine judge of mood and the direction of the wind. What Pelyn saw in his eyes was contempt because that was what his new-found acolytes expected to see. Pelyn wondered if there was something more behind that.
‘Well, this is a rather interesting surprise. Pelyn. Cascarg of Shorth. Apparently. Not sure I believe that. But there are things I do believe. Fervently.’
Helias edged his blade under the first of the ropes binding her. The rope was neither particularly thick nor particularly strong. Helias jerked his blade up. The rope sheared to cheers from the assembled Tuali.
‘I believe in the right of the Tuali to be the masters of their own fate within the race of elves. Not to touch earth to the Ynissul.’
His blade snagged the second band. Cut it.
‘I believe that those who supported the Ynissul in their efforts to regain dominion of the elves deserve nothing but the eternal hatred of the thread into which they were born.’
And then to the third band. Cut it.
‘I believe that Takaar’s harmony was a millennium-long sham. An apology for the subjugation of every other thread by the Ynissul and a cloak for its continuance under the murderous iron fist of the TaiGethen and Al-Arynaar.’
And so to the final band. Cut.
‘And I believe that those Tualis who would carry Ynissul children are not merely efra. They are unfit for life.’
The mob around Helias howled their agreement. Elves closed in, shutting out the pale light of dawn that had just begun to edge out the night. Helias crouched down next to Pelyn’s head and put his face very close to hers. She could smell the sweat on his clothes and the coarse alcohol on his breath. She was baking hot inside the cloak and Helias’s sour breath wasn’t helping her growing feeling of nausea. She found she wasn’t scared. Frustrated. The only thing she feared was not being allowed to speak. That would be a disaster for all those who stood about her, baying for her blood.
‘I know what you are,’ he hissed into her ear. ‘And I know what you believe I am. But I am not so ignorant. And what you would tell us, I do not wish my brothers and sisters to hear.’
Pelyn could barely focus on his face but she could see the unpleasant grin on it.
‘What?’ he said. ‘You think an ula should not look after himself first? Please.’
‘You always were a snake, Helias.’
‘I can live with it. I can’t say the same for you.’
Pelyn was going to die. The certainty pained her and she let her head fall back to the ground. Helias got to his knees, sheathed his short blade and took out a knife.
‘Let us see, shall we, what is inside this pod. Let us feast on the Al-Arynaar uncloaked.’ Helias’s leered down at her. ‘I know the rules of the pod. And you always hid yourself from me. Such a shame, my pretty. Such a shame.’
Helias drew the knife down the length of her cloak. The stitching sliced easily and her covering fell aside.
Pelyn smiled. ‘Oops,’ she said. ‘You really should be more careful what you expose.’
Pelyn sat up fast and her left fist made an intensely satisfying connection with his chin.
Chapter 21
The general you serve cannot save your life in battle. Only those who stand beside you can do that. Takaar felt at his smooth scalp again. There were a few scratches. And his chin. That was smooth too. And now his head was cold. He wondered if his hair would regrow. Meanwhile, he might have to fashion a hat from something. The rain hurt his head when it was very hard. Lucky he had the forest to cover him. It was in the mornings he might suffer though. Out there on the cliff edge. Talking with his tormentor. There the rain could be very hard indeed.
Troubling. All very troubling.
Auum was nearby. Auum would help him. Like he’d helped him shave. Like he was helping him hunt. He was good, this Auum. Very quiet. Very accurate. Had a lot to learn, mind you. And he was very rude. Wouldn’t speak to the tormentor at all when they were in the camp.
Troubling.
And why was he here, that was something else. Takaar feared what he might ask. What he might want of Takaar. Takaar wanted to remain here. Here he could live. Here he could hide.
Here you can wallow in your guilt and make excuses for your continued existence.
‘What are you doing here?’ hissed Takaar. ‘You aren’t invited.’
I go where I please. I watch what I want.
‘Don’t get in the way of the javelin.’
I’ll be right behind you.
Takaar glanced across at Auum, who was all but invisible, crouched by the trunk of a fig tree. Takaar raised his eyebrows and spread his hands. Auum frowned and went to put a finger to his lips. Stopped himself but Takaar saw the gesture anyway. The student teaching the teacher. Time to see how much he really knew.
The jao deer they had been tracking was a tasty prize. Small, quick and well camouflaged it was a night walker, preferring to keep hidden during the day, when the risk of attack from panthers was higher in this part of the forest. Takaar and Auum had tracked it to a bubbling stream fed by a beautiful cascade falling from an ivy-covered crag about forty feet high. The splash pool was small but deep and a favourite of many of Tual’s denizens.
Safe too. Neither panther nor elf killed there. Muddying the poolside with the blood of a kill kept others away for days on end. This time, though, Takaar could indulge in the luxury of flushing the deer towards his hunting partner. Risky. He did not know Auum’s skill with a javelin, and the one he had given the TaiGethen was a little rough and didn’t fly so true. They might go hungry if there was too much Auum didn’t understand.