Tanalvah corrected herself. She had taken the toll.
‘Make room for me.’ The woman accompanying him came forward, and likewise embraced Tanalvah, planting a smiling kiss on her cheek. It was an unusual show of affection from Karr’s closest aide.
‘Goyter,’ Tanalvah said. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘And it’s wonderful to see you, Tan.’
The woman’s appearance was little changed. Goyter remained strapping for her age, and her face had kept its no-nonsense set even while she smiled. She wore her hair in a bun. It was greyer than Tanalvah remembered, and perhaps there were a few more stress lines on her brow, but otherwise she hadn’t altered.
‘We have so much to tell you,’ Goyter went on. ‘And you must have a hell of a story for us.’
‘You wouldn’t believe it.’
‘Look at you,’ Goyter exclaimed, taking a step back and surveying Tanalvah’s ripe figure. ‘You must be due soon.’
‘Not too long.’
‘You’re well, are you, Tan?’ Karr wanted to know. ‘No problems with the baby? And the children? Are they fit, and safe?’
‘Everything’s fine.’
He swept an arm to indicate the cavern. ‘Well, what do you think? The United Revolutionary Council, what’s left of it, wound up in a graveyard. A fitting symbol for the state of the Resistance, some might say.’
‘It’s so…unusual.’
‘True it’s not much, but it’s home. And a graveyard seems like a good place to stage a resurrection.’
‘A resurrection?’
‘The girl doesn’t want to hear all that,’ Goyter interrupted. ‘Can’t you see she needs rest?’
Karr seemed stricken. ‘Forgive me, Tan. We have a lot of catching up to do, but it can wait until later.’ He smiled and took her arm. ‘Come on, we have a bed for you.’
Disgleirio had stood apart while the exchange took place. Now Goyter looked to him. ‘Quinn, what happened to your hand?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ The grubby makeshift bandage was bunched, revealing angry blisters. ‘I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for Tanalvah.’
‘Really?’ Karr said.
‘She was very brave, Dulian. I owe her my life.’
‘That’s our Tan,’ Goyter announced admiringly.
They all turned their smiles on her.
Tears rolled down Tanalvah’s cheeks. Her shoulders heaved. She covered her face and gave way to sobbing.
‘It’s only natural,’ Goyter cooed, moving forward to comfort her. ‘You’ve been through so much you’re bound to feel low. But it’s over now. You’re back with your family.’
Tanalvah continued to weep uncontrollably.
Up above, the first flakes of snow were dusting the frozen ground.
4
It was starting to snow.
‘We should have brought horses,’ Caldason grumbled.
‘We’re nearly there now. Besides, you want to stay fit, don’t you?’
‘I can think of more pleasant ways of doing that.’
Serrah Ardacris smiled. ‘Keep your mind on the job at hand, Reeth. And stop changing the subject. We were discussing Kinsel. What are we going to do about him?’
‘ You were discussing Kinsel. I’m not convinced.’
‘He’s out there, Reeth.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I’ve heard Kinsel sing; you haven’t. It’s not something you forget. Believe me, it was him.’
‘You’ve got to admit it’s a bit unlikely.’
‘What’s so unlikely about it? Kinsel’s galley was lost. Why shouldn’t pirates have been responsible?’
‘It was a fair way from here.’
‘So? That’s what ships are for, isn’t it? Getting people from one place to another.’
‘But why would he be singing?’
‘Are you having a particularly dimwitted day? I don’t know why. Perhaps somebody forced him. Maybe it was his way of identifying himself. It doesn’t matter; but what we do about it does.’
Caldason grinned. ‘You really do think it was him, don’t you?’
‘ Yes! That’s what I keep saying, for pity’s sake. Look, Reeth, if there’s even a slim chance I’m right we have to do something, don’t we? We owe him that much.’
‘Yes, of course we do. I’ll talk to Darrok about it, and the council.’
‘We need a plan.’
‘We’ll have one.’
She reached for his hand. ‘Thanks, my love.’
It was twilight and the chill winds were biting. The sky was leaden, and just beginning to shed its burden of snow.
They were in the Diamond Isle’s interior. The path they trod was ill-maintained, like most of the rundown pleasure resort’s walkways. Some of the buildings they passed had fallen into ruin after years of neglect. Others were intact and functional, but as many of them had been designed for purely recreational purposes they were little use as island defences. Serrah and Caldason had seen them so many times they hardly noticed anymore.
‘We should try to get word to Tan about Kinsel,’ Serrah suggested, negotiating a ridge of frozen mud.
‘That could be hard. This place is practically blockaded. The pirates, the empires or all three seem to be stopping most of the glamoured messages we send. Not to mention how low our store of magic is. It wouldn’t be easy convincing the council to use any on our behalf.’
‘I know the problems, Reeth. We should still try.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait until we’re sure? Give it until we have more than just your certainty about it?’
‘Let’s not go there again.’
‘I’m serious, Serrah. We could be building up Tanalvah’s hopes without cause.’
‘If I were in her position, waiting to hear about you, I think I’d want to know. Would it hurt so much to give her a straw to clutch at?’
‘It could, if the hope’s groundless. We should think on this. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s alive.’
‘She’s alive, Reeth. Tan’s a survivor.’
‘I’ll talk to some people about it. Anyway, we’re nearly there.’ He nodded to indicate the towers marking their destination, which were starting to show above the hill they climbed.
Minutes later they had a clear view of the structure the rebels grandly referred to, not without irony, as their central redoubt.
Built as a guesthouse for rich visitors, it was the tallest building on the island, very large, and fashioned sturdily enough. There were half a dozen towers, winding battlements and an extensive flat, walled roof. There was even a portcullis, and a moat, now dry and clogged with leaves. However, its appearance didn’t reflect its substance; it had been made to look like a castle rather than be one. Its stone cladding was for show and unlikely to withstand a concerted battering. The doors and windows were equally deceptive in terms of their strength.
Caldason would never have chosen such a place as a fortress of last resort, or approved its location, but it was all they had. The coastal hill fort had been constructed from scratch. It took so much in the way of time and resources that the same couldn’t be done for a central redoubt. The rebels had no choice but to beef up this mock bastion.
Hordes of people were swarming over and around the scaffolded building. They created a din with hammering, sawing, and felling trees for timber. Wagons queued with loads of stone to toughen the ramparts, while mortar was being mixed in giant vats.
Serrah and Caldason made their way down the side of the hill, exchanging greetings with the workers.
‘There’s Zahgadiah and Pallidea,’ Serrah said, pointing.
The one-time owner of the island was hard to miss as he floated on his glamoured dish, inspecting a score of blacksmiths pounding iron on a row of anvils. His leather-clad female companion walked beside him, almost as conspicuous with her waist-length flaming red hair.
Darrok hailed them in typically gravel-voiced fashion. Pallidea merely nodded.
‘Let’s get away from this racket,’ Darrok mouthed.
They followed his hovering saucer along the side of the wall until the noise faded to a tolerable level. The sky was noticeably darker and snowflakes were growing more abundant.
‘How’s it going?’ Caldason asked.
‘Not bad,’ Darrok replied, surveying the scene. ‘But there’s a hell of a lot more to do yet.’