‘Two thousand, two hundred and seventeen,’ said Keller. ‘Think it’ll be enough?’
‘I was going to ask you the same question.’
‘Ystormun is with them.’
‘Oh, great. Come to give us the blessing of the One College or just the usual advice on how to conduct an offensive.’
‘You’re talking about a lord of Triverne,’ said Keller sharply.
‘Don’t get all loyal-to-the-lords with me, Keller. Gods burning, you weren’t sent here with me because you’re in favour, were you? All the favourites are either disembarking now or safely at home drinking in the beauty of the Blackthorne Mountains and the Triverne Valley.’
‘And you knew it was likely one of them would come. This is a significant investment.’
‘They’re dangerous. Him and his cadre have way too much power and are way too careless with how they go about securing more.’
‘There will always be conflict in the ring of towers,’ said Keller.
‘I was glad to get away from there,’ said Garan. ‘Couldn’t you feel it? Like a poorly shielded fire ward waiting to explode. I worry about what might happen, I really do.’
‘Well, you can ask him all about it yourself,’ said Keller. ‘He’s in the first boat.’
And so he was. A tall thin figure in a deep-blue cloak with hood thrown back to reveal a bald pate and hawkish features. His nose was so thin it looked likely to break if he sneezed too hard. His eyes were tiny and set close. His cheekbones were high and prominent like an Ynissul’s and his mouth had almost bloodless thin lips set in a perpetual line of contempt.
Garan considered that, in all honesty, he was the best of them. The most liberal. It really could have been much worse. Pamun, for instance. Now there was a real bastard.
‘You should remain a few paces back,’ said Keller. ‘I’ll welcome him.’
‘If you insist.’
Garan watched the boat approach. Keller walked to the relevant jetty and waited with his arms held across his waist, his fingers linked together. Ystormun stood as the boat approached, his guards and attendants with him. The three pairs of oarsmen slowed their pace and kept the boat level on the placid water. Keller was standing by the steps. Ystormun took one look at him and lifted gently off the deck, his mistwings moving him serenely to the jetty.
‘Bloody show-off,’ muttered Garan.
The wings were dispelled when his feet touched the ground and he marched past Keller without a second glance. Keller hurried after his master. Garan took a deep breath and felt a shiver pass through him.
‘Here we go,’ he said.
Ystormun strode up to him, his thin lips pursed so hard they were practically invisible. The frown above his eyes almost closed them.
‘My Lord Ystormun,’ Garan said. ‘Welcome to Calaius.’
‘They have put a soldier in charge of our conquest,’ said Ystormun, gaze arrowing down past his nose. ‘And hence, when the benefactor arrives, he is greeted not by bunting but by smoke, ash and flame and the quite extraordinary odour of burning human flesh. I had heard this city was firmly under your control.’
‘We suffered a small attack last night. It has been repelled.’
‘An interesting choice of adjective.’ Ystormun’s voice, at odds with the depth of his chest, was sonorous and powerful, carrying to echo from building and ruin alike. ‘I could see the flames from my ship. My Communions suggest a significant problem with a group called the TaiGethen. Is this true?’
Garan stared at Keller, whose eyes were elsewhere.
‘I’m not in the business of fabrication. In the context of the city and our control of it, this was a small attack. Successful in that prisoners were released. But these are all ordinary elves broken by internal conflict. They are no danger to our venture. Your informant is right. The TaiGethen are a significant problem.’
Ystormun glanced up at the sky, which was filling with dense, dark cloud.
‘It rains a lot here,’ said Garan.
‘Then we shall seek cover. Where’s my carriage?’
‘Keller, can you help with that one?’ asked Garan. ‘Carriages?’
Keller shot Garan a venomous look. Ystormun swung around, his eyebrows already on the rise.
‘This is a hot, uncomfortable country,’ he said. ‘I do not expect to walk or fly when I can sit in comfort. I presume these savages do have carriages, do they?’
‘Yes,’ said Keller. ‘Ornate state carriages in some cases. We had a second attack in the main compound at the temple of Shorth last night. There was significant damage to carriages, oxen and stabling.’
Soldiers and mages were beginning to mass on the docks as boat after boat landed at the many jetties that ran their length. Ystormun watched them for a moment before gesturing Keller and Garan together so that he could address them both.
‘How many TaiGethen attacks were there last night?’
‘Eight.’
Ystormun paused, the answer clearly not anticipated. ‘Eight.’
‘They are a persistent thorn,’ said Garan.
‘And where do they hide?’
‘The rainforest is vast.’
‘But they cannot fly unless I am mistaken. So they are not deep within it if they can strike here seemingly at will.’
Ystormun looked meaningfully at Garan.
‘We are looking for them and we will find them,’ said Garan.
‘That should reassure me, should it?’ snapped Ystormun. ‘Which way must I walk through this ludicrous architecture? While I am listening to your incompetence, I feel I should do something useful.’
Keller gestured and they began walking towards the temple piazza. Thunder was rumbling and the first lightning flashed as prelude to a heavy downpour. Garan grimaced and prayed the rain held off. He knew his prayer would be ignored.
‘What I want,’ said Ystormun, ‘is for you to tell me that you know where they are and that you will kill them.’
‘And that will come,’ said Garan. ‘They are not numerous, but they are masters of stealth and concealment. It will take time.’
‘Not numerous? Really. How many of them do you estimate are mounting these attacks.’
Garan thought to lie but Keller was already speaking.
‘They are a particularly skilled class of warrior. Far better than anything we have seen on Balaia. Assuming our information is accurate, the total number of these people is in the region of ninety. At the moment we believe around thirty are in the vicinity of the city.’
Ystormun closed his eyes and walked on though he had clearly thought to stop. His cheeks had reddened and his fingers, laced in front of him, had tensed. A knuckle cracked.
‘How many did you kill last night?’ he asked quietly.
‘Two definite fatalities on the dock,’ said Garan.
‘And how many of our people did they kill?’
‘In all attacks, fifty-seven.’
‘Fifty-seven!’ Ystormun’s hold on his temper expired. ‘That is ten per cent of the advance force. In one night. Bloody hell, Garan, what are you doing here?’
‘Securing the city and hunting down our enemies,’ said Garan carefully.
‘No need to hunt, is there? Apparently. They’re coming to us. Seems to me they are doing the hunting. And therefore you are not securing the city. In fact, after last night, are there not more potential problems on the streets not less?’
‘We have been holding. Waiting for the main force. Another two thousand soldiers and a hundred-plus mages will make our strangle-hold complete.’
‘And why should I have confidence in that statement? By my calculations, they’ll have killed the lot of us in about fifty days and there’ll still be a quarter of them left. Whatever your plans are, they are not good enough. My information suggests your methods are, in the main, weak. You are negotiating with elves, not dominating them. You have made examples of a few in one park one early morning. Where is your strategy for the demonstration of our power?’
Garan moved up alongside Ystormun. Keller stayed a pace or so behind. Meek fool. Garan determined to keep any sense of complaint from his voice.
‘I accept that conditions and enemies here have surprised us and that our erstwhile elven allies did not deliver on their promises to hand us the TaiGethen before we had to remove them from authority. But we have doubled our guard on approaches to the city and we have a comprehensive system of wards, both alarm and explosive, as a first line of defence.’