With an effortless, fluid motion, the two archers on the corner released their arrows, pulled more out of their quivers, readied them and released them, repeating the process several times until they ran out of arrows.
The nerves they must have… Lan thought, as a heartbeat later a surge of citizens rounded the corner, a few of them with arrows buried in their crude shields.
The line of archers loosed their arrows and wave after wave of civilians collapsed to the ground. People began to scream — both men and women — their voices intense between the walls around them, and Lan simply looked on, unable to help. People scrambled for cover in twos or threes, shouting for a retreat. Another cluster of civilians came to evacuate the injured, and pull back the dead from the bloodied cobbles, while the army coldly picked off whoever was left, one by one.
Ulryk was whispering a prayer.
Civilian militias were jogging in tight units, heavily armed; carts were being turned up on their sides to be used as crude shelters, spilling produce across the streets. Military archers were sniping from above, while youths with scarves pulled tight across their faces were beginning to launch their own attacks from street corners.
‘It’s so confusing who is fighting whom,’ Ulryk said.
‘Do you have to do whatever you need to on the Glass Tower?’ she asked.
Ulryk opened his eyes slowly. ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lan replied. ‘We’ll get you there. Somehow.’
*
How was it possible not to have an obvious chain of command and still form an army? The notion went against everything Caley had been brought up to believe, against all his instincts. No one was instructing them on what they should do, but there were those who were clearly more skilled than others, ferocious-looking people, those good with a sword, or rogue cultists who had been given a new lease of life. The rest of the Cavesiders clustered around these groups, looking for guidance or advice. Almost everyone wanted to help out — they knew they had come so far, and that they were on the cusp of achieving something significant: bringing down the Emperor and all those who had repressed the people of Caveside.
From the corner of Sahem Road and Gata Social, Caley could see a rim of real daylight where the caves met the city, and he swallowed hard. Surrounded by now-aggressive men and women, he didn’t know what to do, and looked to others for direction. There were hundreds, probably thousands of them, and they seemed to follow each other, as an organic mass. Within the throng he had forgotten just how cold it was — the wind always blew in strongly at the mouth of the caves, as if the elements were aiding the segregation.
I’m in too deep, he thought. I’m gonna get myself killed this time, for sure.
Several individuals wheeled carts up and down their lines, issuing homemade weapons, rough blades that had been perfected in the dark, away from prying, Imperial eyes. Caley took a crossbow that looked pretty neat, and he already had a sword at his side. Another woman came past with a cartload of armour, so he took a crude helmet that didn’t quite fit and was remarkably heavy, but he figured it was better than going without.
The energy here was incredible. People buzzed with nervousness and anticipation, but mostly with a genuine thrill that this was it, this was where they would take over the outer city. Several major groups had gone on ahead — some of the elderly and less able forming more peaceful lines of protest, unafraid of what happened previously because they knew the military would be busy enough; and there were more groups of youths looking to create agitation in almost random pockets of the city, sudden outbursts of violence that would cause chaos and distraction. To them, this was good sport.
A little deeper into this moment of anticipation, a message rippled Caley’s way. It came via one of Shalev’s runners, fast youths who were carrying information around the self-organized units. A letter was handed to him by a tall, grubby blond boy with a long face and a dagger at his hip. Caley unfolded it, then stared awkwardly at the meaningless script. He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he handed it back to the messenger. ‘ ’Fraid I can’t read much.’
The lad nodded back, opened the paper and, as a few of the Cavesiders came to see what was happening, he cleared his throat and read out:
‘Caley, do you want to help us kill the Emperor?’
*
Eventually, as the flames began to eat into the roof to a now-dangerous level, Tane and Vuldon arrived, sprinting up the stairwell. They both stared at Fulcrom, who was sitting with his arms folded.
‘What took you so long?’ he asked.
‘There’s a war on, or hadn’t you seen?’ Vuldon replied.
‘So I heard,’ Fulcrom said. ‘Is it bad?’
‘Yeah, ridiculously so. Fuck’re you doing up here anyway?’ Vuldon demanded.
‘The old methods of communication are not what they once were,’ Fulcrom replied coolly. ‘I needed to talk to you.’
‘I don’t get it,’ Tane said. ‘Why cause a fire? Has all the stress finally turned you insane? Why not just come back to our quarters like you usually do?’
Fulcrom informed them of everything that had happened since he’d last seen them. He told them about his meeting with the Emperor, and then with Warkur. He told them he’d quit the Inquisition. He told them of what was going to happen with the Knights.
‘No more Lan?’ Tane asked. ‘Seriously?’
Fulcrom shook his head, stood up and leant on the edge of the building to observe Villjamur.
‘But you and her… you were close, right?’ Tane asked. ‘That must have made matters rather difficult.’
‘Right,’ he replied.
‘No wonder you quit.’
Vuldon grunted. ‘That’s this fucking city for you,’ he said. ‘Asks you to give your heart and soul for it, and once you’re no longer able to be exploited, it spits you out again.’
‘The Emperor will keep you in employment,’ Fulcrom continued, ‘but since I’ve walked out of the Inquisition, I’ve no longer the same level of access to you. Hence the fire. You’re on your own now, but it’s likely they’ll want you to consider hunting down me and Lan.’
‘That’s all right,’ Tane replied, ‘we can feign ignorance.’
‘Shouldn’t be too hard in your case,’ Vuldon muttered. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll not come after you.’ Vuldon, in a gesture that was almost a show of emotion, placed his enormous hand on Fulcrom’s shoulder. ‘I’m not a fan of investigators, but you were all right. The rest of them can fuck themselves.’
‘Thanks, I think,’ Fulcrom said. ‘Look, you’ll still be required to work for the city, else they’ll decommission you, too.’
‘I’d like to see them try,’ Vuldon replied.
‘You can still do some good,’ Fulcrom said. ‘People still need you. The city’s teetering on the brink of collapse.’
‘Nah, it’s just a skirmish, I imagine,’ Vuldon muttered. ‘The military will sort it out, then we’ll be back to normal.’
‘The military is heavily outnumbered, and… there’s something else heading to the city that the Emperor seems very worried about, and it’s not just his paranoia.’ He repeated his conversation with Urtica.
‘We’ll deal with that if it comes to it,’ Tane said. He suddenly turned away and began smelling the air. ‘Trouble isn’t far off,’ he announced.
Fulcrom said, ‘Look, I should get back.’
‘Where to?’ Vuldon asked.
‘Good point,’ Fulcrom replied. ‘Somewhere, anywhere. Away from the law, and the Imperial hands — that ought to be enough.’ It felt strange to say that: to run from the very thing he had represented all his life.
‘Will you be taking Lan with you?’ Vuldon demanded.
Fulcrom put his hands in his pockets. ‘Yeah.’ He glanced to one side, contemplating the flames and heat which were now dying down. ‘We’ve a little extra business to sort out with Ulryk, but once we’ve helped him, that’s it.’
‘Look after her,’ Tane said.