A voice whispered then, within his mind: ‘Servant …’
He flinched away. What was this?
‘Take the mask, servant.’
The mask?
‘Yes. I sense you are wounded. Accept it and you will live for ever.’
Accept it? Wear it?
‘Yes. I have been banished from this flesh — but accept the mask and together we shall live again.’
Jan retreated from the corpse. No.
‘No? No! You have no choice, servant. Do as I command!’
No. Our slavery is long over. We have found our own way. We are our own masters now. I consign you to the past. I turn my face from you. You no longer exist.
‘Slave! Come back! I order you! Obey!’
Jan walked away. Leaving the throne room he met one of the pet mages at the doors; the one who paraded as a dancing girl. She came staggering up, an arm across her stomach, agony on her panicked face. ‘What is going on?’ she gasped. ‘Where are the others? What has happened?’
‘To us he is as dead,’ Jan said, flatly, and walked on, stiffly.
‘No! Impossible!’ She lurched into the room.
Within, alone, Taya edged up to the body. ‘Master!’ She reached out, but at the last instant she yanked back her hand as if stung. She started to her feet, flinching away. ‘No …’ she murmured, wincing. ‘Please … not that. Anything but-’
A sound spun her around. Someone emerged from behind one of the pillars. He was tall, dressed all in shades of green, and his hair hung silver and black. A long snarled hiss escaped her. ‘You …’
Topper bowed. ‘As they say, all good things, et cetera. And look at you. You are a bonus. One I’ve been hoping to pluck for some time now.’
Taya flicked her hands and short thin blades appeared. ‘I will have your head.’
‘I rather doubt that.’
They charged, meeting in a maelstrom of whirling flashing blades. Competing Warrens rose together, spinning and swirling until both disappeared in a loud burst of displaced air.
Torvald had never felt so exposed in all his life. Unarmed, he walked across the gouged and overturned dirt and broken flags of the once-groomed grounds. Galene limped at his side supported by a single Black. They made for the group of Seguleh guarding the main entrance, the majority of whose masks, he noted, bore very few marks.
As they neared, one Seguleh signalled for them to halt. Another, who carried a single bold line across his brow, signed to a third and these two approached.
‘I am Councillor Nom,’ Torvald said quickly. ‘I am come to propose negotiations.’
‘What is it you wish?’ the smaller Seguleh asked. She carried five hatch lines on her mask.
‘We come to demand your surrender,’ Galene said.
‘Our surrender? I rather think it is you who should surrender.’
Galene held up an empty gauntleted hand then slowly reached into her shoulder bag to remove a red baton. She held it up. ‘Your protective sorceries are gone, Seguleh. I merely have to signal with this and the hilltop will be reduced to rubble.’
The Seguleh Sixth motioned to Torvald. ‘What think you of this, Councillor Nom?’
Torvald swallowed. His voice came faint: ‘Darujhistan would consider that an act of war.’
Galene’s helm shifted to face him. ‘Better that than the alternative.’
‘We propose,’ said the Sixth, ‘that you merely stand aside and allow us to return to our homeland.’
‘Happily,’ Galene snapped. ‘We propose that you merely set down your swords and go unarmed.’
‘That is unacceptable to us.’
‘Then we have an impasse.’
‘Not so,’ the Sixth began again, a new iron in her voice. ‘We could march out right now if we so chose and there are none here who could stop us.’
‘Go ahead. We will chase you down like dogs and slay every one of you from above!’
Torvald loudly cleared his throat. ‘What of the hostages?’
The Sixth reluctantly pulled her gaze from Galene. ‘What hostages?’
‘The councillors and other citizens.’
The Sixth glanced to the one with her, obviously the Seguleh Second. Torvald felt almost dizzy standing this close to the highest living ranked of them. He couldn’t imagine what it must take to occupy such a position — let alone have all the others accept it as fully justified.
The Second signed something and the Sixth inclined her masked head. She turned to Galene. ‘They will be released. It is not our way to hide behind hostages.’
Torvald bowed. ‘Very good. My — our — thanks.’
Galene held out the red baton. ‘Once the non-combatants are clear consider your final answer carefully.’
‘You have it already,’ the Sixth replied, and the two Seguleh turned away.
Torvald and Galene watched them go. ‘Stiff-necked fools,’ she ground out. ‘They merely have to set aside their swords and all this would be behind us.’
‘Galene, I believe you are asking for the one thing they simply cannot do.’
Spindle and Fisher crouched in the woods, peering through the branches.
‘Looks like a parley,’ Spindle whispered.
‘Shh,’ Fisher warned. ‘We don’t want-’
Bursting eruptions of munitions drove them to the ground with their hands over their heads. Feet ran past nearby. Alarms were shouted, followed by more munitions.
Spindle raised his head for a peep. He saw a handful of Seguleh dodging for the entrance, Moranth running to intercept. Another group followed in the distance and Spindle gaped, astonished, at who was among them. He put fingers to his mouth and let go a piercing whistle. The fellow he had spotted skidded to a halt, grabbing another and gesturing.
Spindle jumped to his feet, waving. The whole group made for him.
Spindle opened his arms wide and to his further amazement Antsy accepted the greeting, giving an answering hug in return. ‘You dog!’ Spindle laughed, cuffing him.
‘What are you doin’ here?’ Antsy said. ‘Thought you were down south.’
‘You too!’ He gestured to the lad with him. ‘Who’s this?’
‘Corien,’ the lad answered. ‘Corien Lim.’
‘Lim! No …’
‘Fisher!’ one of the giants with Antsy suddenly bellowed. He grabbed hold of the bard and lifted him from his feet in a great bear hug.
‘Great Mother!’ Fisher cursed. ‘Cull? Cull Heel? What are you doing here!’
‘Fisher! Come back home with us, yes? You have been gone too long!’
At that moment Moranth emerged from the woods to surround them.
Jan ordered the release of the citizens, then saw to the defences of the main entrance. Should the Moranth return to their aerial bombardment his plan was for his people to occupy those same deepest cellars, wait for night to return, then scatter in all directions to return to Cant in ones and twos. Undignified, but perhaps the best way of ensuring that as many as possible made it out alive. His side was completely numb and he was weak from loss of blood, but if he could just avoid any further exertion he believed he might yet live to see this through.
It was here that the guards assigned to the west found him. They came escorting exhausted and bedraggled brothers and sisters whom he did not immediately recognize. It was not until one went to one knee before him that Jan realized who he was. With that understanding came a wave of anticipation that nearly caused him to faint. Great Ancestors! Oru, the Eleventh, gone more than two years, assumed lost by so many, returned now, at such a time!
Jan moved to raise him up but restrained himself, exclaiming instead, ‘Oru!’ He then clamped down on his breathing to observe dispassionately, ‘You are returned to us. I am pleased — but you should not have come here.’