Grandys threw his right leg forward and bent the knee, instinctively trying to protect his groin, and Rix jammed his boot heel down on Grandys’ bare toes with all his weight, shattering the opal armour and grinding it into flesh and bone. Grandys reared back, his teeth bared, and Rix brought his left hand up from floor level in an uppercut that would have knocked any normal man onto his back, unconscious.
Grandys rocked backwards, his eyes glazed, and for several seconds Rix thought he was going to topple. But he remained on his feet and Rix made his fatal mistake. He acted honourably to a man who lacked all honour.
He should have gone on the attack, battering Grandys about the head until he fell senseless. Foolishly, Rix allowed him a few seconds to recover.
He was watching Grandys’ fists when he should have been checking his feet. Grandys’ right foot struck Rix in the groin so hard that tears burst from his eyes. Before he could see again, Grandys punched him in the mouth, the nose, the throat, then so hard over the heart that it missed a number of beats and for several seconds he wasn’t sure it was going to start again. Rix swayed like a drunken man, took another blow to the chin, landed flat on his back and could not get up.
He lay there, expecting to die. Every man in the Great Hall was on his feet, and it was clear that half of them wanted to see Grandys finish Rix. Lirriam was licking her plump lips. Rufuss’s eyes pierced Rix like black beams.
Grandys might have killed Rix, had the whim taken him. Perhaps he didn’t know what he was going to do until he did it. But after a minute or two he let out a roar of laughter and hauled Rix to his feet.
“Well done, Ricinus,” he said clapping him on the back and nearly driving Rix’s backbone through his lower intestine. “Stamp on my toes — I’ll make an innovator of you yet. If I don’t kill you first.”
He picked up Maloch and raised it. Again the room held its breath.
“What are you doing?” said Rix, thinking that he was going to die after all.
“Promoting you to my first lieutenant, of course.”
He tapped Rix on the right shoulder with the blade, then added quietly, “Clearly my command spell has been slipping. You won’t find this one so easy to fight. Back to your bench now, lad, and we’ll toast your promotion with another flagon.”
No sooner than Rix had regained his seat than Grandys walked up to the first prisoner, General Rochlis, put Maloch’s tip against his chest and, ever so slowly, pushed it in. He watched Rochlis die, then strolled around the hall, putting the remaining prisoners to death with no more concern than if he had been dicing carrots. After each man he put down, Grandys turned to study the expression on Rix’s face.
Rix tried to remain impassive, but inside he was screaming in outrage. Grandys was a brilliant, ruthless leader, but he was thoroughly evil and would not rest until he had brought Rix down to his own level.
CHAPTER 79
Tali edged through the door into the chancellor’s quarters and slipped behind the floor-to-ceiling drapes. She had to know what he was going to do to Tobry and Holm.
“You’re condemned men,” said the chancellor, when they were brought before his table, in rattling chains. “Is there anything you’d like to say before I order your execution for treason?”
“I’ve got a plan to deal with Grandys,” said Tobry.
“I’ve never liked you, Lagger — ” began the chancellor.
“So that explains why you ordered me thrown from the top of Rix’s tower,” Tobry said drily. “All this time I’ve been trying to work it out.”
Tobry, don’t! You’ve no idea what a vengeful man he is. But Tali had to admire his composure in the face of death. Her knees would barely hold her up.
“How did you survive?” said the chancellor. “Never mind. The fact that you did, and even managed to escape so thorough a hunt as Lyf had set for you, suggests that there’s more to you than I’d imagined.”
“And now your tediously conventional plans have failed so dismally, you’re prepared to clutch at the most desperate straws to get yourself out of trouble.”
“Speaking as one condemned man to two others,” said Holm, “the noose is tightening every minute. If you hope to slip it, you’d better get on with it.”
“You’re overly bold for a humble clock attendant,” said the chancellor.
“And you’ve become unwontedly timid since you fled Caulderon, Chancellor. Tell him the plan, Tobry.”
“I’m going to join Grandys’ army, in the guise of a Herovian, then shift to a caitsthe after he’s gone to bed and claw his heart out.”
“No!” cried Tali, forgetting herself.
A guard hauled her out from behind the drape.
“What the hell are you doing here?” growled the chancellor.
“Whatever you’re planning to do to them, I’ve a right to know,” she said defiantly.
“You’ve a right to know nothing. You’re an interfering little know-it-all.”
Tali reached out to Tobry. “Tobry, you can’t disguise yourself from Grandys. At Glimmering, he picked that you were a shifter in seconds. He’ll put you straight to death.”
“Not if I disguise myself with magery,” said Tobry.
“He’s got two ebony pearls, remember? And even if you could fool him, you can’t fool Maloch. It knows you. Chancellor,” said Tali. “Don’t let him do it. It’s suicide.”
“You’re appealing to me now?” said the chancellor. “What a fruity irony.”
“I can heal Tobry,” said Rannilt’s shrill little voice from the other side of the room. “Let me try.”
“Guard!” bellowed the chancellor. “How did that brat get in?”
“I don’t know, Chancellor,” said the guard, “but she didn’t come through the door.”
“How am I supposed to discuss secret strategies when half the fortress is lurking behind the drapes?”
“I don’t know, Chancellor.”
“Put the little twerp out. Don’t damage her.”
The guard gave the chancellor a reproachful look and picked Rannilt up by the scruff of the neck and the seat of her pants.
“I can heal Tobry, I can heal Tobry!” she wailed, kicking her thin legs and arms.
“Rannilt, you can’t,” said Tali. “You lost your gift after Lyf stole power from you in the caverns. Your blood doesn’t heal any more.”
The guard took her out, her cries dwindling down the hall.
“Well?” said Tobry, after a considerable silence.
“Well what?” said the chancellor.
“Will you allow me out, to try and kill Grandys?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“To win the aftermath I’m going to need a mighty army, but my forces are being eaten away by desertion to Grandys. I can’t strike at him until I’ve rebuilt my army, or defeating him will merely give victory to Lyf.
“I’ve got a better plan,” the chancellor said, leaning back in his chair. “Let Grandys turn the war our way first. Then you can kill him, shifter.”
CHAPTER 80
Rix tightened his defiance of the command spell until it hurt, then crawled along the dusty ceiling beam until he was above Grandys’ bedchamber. If he failed, or the spell betrayed him, he would die.
A few minutes ago, an unobtrusive little man had given the password to the guards outside Grandys’ room, and slipped inside. Rix had seen the man before and felt sure he was a spy.
What was Grandys really up to? There was an implacable purpose behind his bloody ruthlessness, and it had to do with the Herovian goal of reaching their Promised Realm. But how were they to get to it? And what did that mean for Hightspall?
The ceiling plaster was old and cracked. Not cracked enough for Rix to see into the bedchamber, though he might be able to hear. He lowered his ear to the surface, but heard not a sound.
Everything was so thickly coated with dust here that even his gentle movements had stirred it up. The dust was tickling the back of his nose. He suppressed a sneeze and kept very still, knowing that his weight on the beam could be enough to crack the plaster, and that would give him away at once.