‘We mustn’t cede these traitors their victory by tempting the people to rash action or by foolishly ensuring their release,’ he said coldly. ‘Let me have details of these provisions for the arrest of Lords.’
Dilrap risked a brief knowing smile and, hitching his gown on to his shoulders, bowed and retreated. As he reached the door, Dan-Tor pointed a long brown finger at him.
‘Briefly, Dilrap. Briefly,’ he said.
Now Dan-Tor stared at the results of this admoni-tion. Sheet upon sheet of closely written script, laden with column annotations, footnotes, cross-references and, at a quick glance, some of the densest legal prose that the Law of Fyorlund could produce. He would have to read it of course. Dilrap’s observations had been too accurate for him to ignore. He glanced irritably at the pale light washing in through the window and clicked a globe into life. Its glare dimmed the evening sky outside and cast harsh shadows around his room. Their clarity relaxed him.
Far below, in the darkening streets, a few people noticed the harsh white light appear in the tower wall, like an inhuman eye peering out over the City. Those who knew it for what it was were divided: some saw it as the Lord Dan-Tor working tirelessly to assuage the confusion and disorder that seemed to be sweeping the country, while others, a touch wiser, presumed he was plotting yet more schemes and devilment to undermine the ancient way of life of the Fyordyn. Both camps seemed to find less and less on which they could stand and debate rationally, let alone agree. Both noted a sourness and anger seeping into their lives that they had never known before, and each was inclined to look to the other for the cause.
Further below still, the four Lords indeed plotted and schemed. Their brief foray from their cell, especially that of Hreldar and Darek, had told them where they were, but that knowledge was of limited value. It served mainly to confirm that, to escape their prison, they would need good fortune and more than a little help from the outside.
After their initial euphoria, they lapsed a little into a darker mood as they pondered the problems ahead of them. They found it interesting that there had been no repercussions from their escapade. Hreldar, with Darek’s help, had made a slow and convincing recovery once he had reached fresh air, and had shown no further symptoms since, but Arinndier now made a conspicu-ous point of looking suspiciously at all their food, and of talking to the guards who brought it. After a while the chore devolved on to a single kitchen servant who bore Arinndier’s scrutiny with a surly indifference.
Eldric was of the opinion that the incident had not risen very far up the ranks of the Mathidrin. ‘They made a mistake, and they don’t want Dan-Tor to find out about it, I’m sure,’ he said. ‘I think we’ve found an interesting weakness in our jailers with our little piece of theatre.’
Arinndier raised his eyebrows to request an elabora-tion of this remark.
Eldric obliged. ‘These people aren’t like our High Guards. They’ve not entered a service because of duty or tradition. They’ve entered it for some form of personal gain. Wherever they’ve been dredged from they’ve got all the earmarks of ex-prisoners and misfits, and there’s more than a few foreigners among them, judging by some of the accents we’ve heard. I’ll wager that such honour as they have is easily purchased.’
‘So?’ queried Arinndier.
‘So they play barrack-room politics, Arin,’ continued Eldric. ‘They’ll form cliques and factions. War amongst themselves for kudos in the eyes of their superiors.’
Arinndier was unimpressed. ‘Our own people do that, Eldric,’ he said.
Eldric waved a dismissive hand. ‘Yes, yes,’ he con-ceded. ‘But on the whole they put their service before themselves and, if anything serious happens, they’ll come forward and admit it.’ He levelled a probing finger. ‘Dan-Tor never heard about what we did. We’d have been moved or separated by now if he had. Someone, somewhere, stopped the news going further.’
‘So what?’ Arinndier maintained his indifference. Eldric scowled and Arinndier looked insincerely apologetic.
‘Any soldier with a grain of sense, Arin, would know that what we did should’ve been reported right up to the top. It was unusual and highly suspicious behaviour.’ He sat down by Arinndier and tapped his arm significantly. ‘They didn’t even send so much as a horse healer to look at Hreldar after he’d started to look well again.’ He paused. ‘They don’t trust their superiors. They’re frightened. Either of punishment or lack of advance-ment. But whatever the reason, they don’t trust them.’ Arinndier sat quiet awhile considering the implications of Eldric’s observations. The analysis seemed reason-able. The Mathidrin could well be disciplined by fear, or greed, while the High Guards were disciplined by respect and honour. The Mathidrin would be bound together reluctantly while the High Guards sustained one another willingly.
He nodded. ‘So we learn what we can about each one individually. Encourage them in gossip. Bind them with petty corruptions where we can.’
‘Exactly,’ said Eldric, clapping his hands together. ‘Play their own game. We know where we are now. We know our well-being’s a matter of some concern to them. Let’s find out more about who holds us. Let’s start a little more rot growing in the roots of these creations of Dan-Tor’s.’
Above them, the City continued its uneasy life in the mellow summer gloaming, until the street globes burst abruptly into life and washed away the soft shadows with their harsh light. It was a regular evening occur-rence greeted by some with relief and by others with irritation. But normally, all left the streets. It was the wisest thing to do in these troubled times. The light held exposure. The dark shadows, treachery.
Chapter 29
Rede Berryn glanced out of the window at the Mathidrin patrol, then picked up a pen and began writing rapidly.
‘Go and bring that Sirshiant up, Tel,’ he said, with-out looking up. ‘Don’t rush. And look pleasantly surprised,’ he added as an afterthought.
Then to Hawklan and Isloman, ‘I can’t stop them taking you, but I think I can smooth the way a little. This lad’s a bit nasty, but he’s more ambition than intelligence and I can usually handle him.’ He looked at the two men. ‘Stay seated until I introduce you.’
There was a discreet knock at the door and Tel-Mindor entered, followed by a sour-faced young Mathidrin officer carrying his helmet under his arm. Hawklan noted immediately that beneath the man’s arrogance was an uncertain deference.
‘Sirshiant… ’ began the Rede as he rose carefully to greet the newcomer. Then he paused and looked conspicuously at the man’s insignia. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘Captain, I should say. Congratulations. When did that happen?’
The young man looked down briefly and cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Two days ago, Rede,’ he replied. Then, deprecatingly, ‘It’s only a field commission, it probably won’t be confirmed, but… ’
The Rede waved the disclaimer aside. ‘I’m sure it will,’ he said heartily. ‘Don’t worry. Anyway, this may be your big chance. I’m very glad you dropped in.’ He proffered the note he had just written. ‘I was about to send a messenger to you with this.’ He continued speaking while the Captain was reading. ‘These two gentlemen are Isloman and the Lord Hawklan, envoys from Orthlund with papers for the Lord Dan-Tor.’ At the Rede’s discreet signal, Hawklan and Isloman both stood up and bowed to the young officer, who started slightly as he looked up and felt the presence of the two men filling the room. He returned the bow hesitantly, as though unused to such niceties, and his eyes flickered from them to the paper and back to the jovial face of the Rede as if for guidance.
Again, before he could speak, the Rede plunged on, his tone concerned. ‘Unfortunately, Gister saw fit to accuse them of being bandits or something, and there’s been a bit of an incident-you know what he’s like-I’ll tell you about it later. Happily, no real harm’s been done but, while these gentlemen have very generously accepted my apologies, they’re obviously anxious to have some kind of escort for the rest of their journey. Can you help… Captain?’