‘A celebration perhaps?’ offered Hawklan.
The Captain shook his head. ‘No,’ he said definitely. ‘But I don’t know what it is. Probably a house fire.’
‘It’s a big one, Captain,’ said one of the men. ‘Look how high it’s going.’
The Captain nodded and then shrugged. ‘Well, there’s nothing we can do.’ He laughed harshly. ‘I’m sure someone knows it’s there.’ This shaft of wit seemed to go down well with the men but, as they rode on, the smoke grew more dense and all eyes were fastened on it.
The party became very quiet, disturbing the country stillness only with the sound of lightly treading hooves and the soft creak and clatter of tackle and arms. Abruptly, the rising column of smoke seemed to gather momentum and, disregarding the vagaries of the rooftop breezes, began to billow upwards relentlessly, until it was well above the Palace towers. Soon it was dominating the entire sky in front of them.
‘That’s no house fire,’ someone said hoarsely, mir-roring all their thoughts.
Hawklan realized he was craning back his head to see the top of the column. Faintly a distant sound reached him. ‘Quiet,’ he said, raising his hand and reining his horse to a halt.
Without thinking, the Captain halted the troop as if the order had been passed to him by a senior officer. The group stood motionless and silent as if paying homage to the towering manifestation before them. Across the intervening fields a confused jumble of sounds mingled with the birdsong and the hissing of the gently waving trees. Hawklan’s hand remained in the air. Then, quite distinctly, the rapid tolling of a bell reached them. The urgency of its tone galvanized the Captain.
‘It’s the General Alarm,’ he said, almost in disbelief. For an instant he looked flustered. He gave Hawklan and Isloman a worried look then, turning his horse around to face his men, he shouted, ‘You three, no, you five, escort the envoys into Vakloss. Straight to the Palace and notify the Lord Dan-Tor of their arrival. The rest of you come with me at the gallop.’ Then, to Hawklan, ‘I’m sorry, but if the General Alarm’s being sounded, something serious must’ve happened. We have to ride to it as fast as we can. These men will escort you safely to the Palace.’ And then he was gone, together with the rest of his patrol, leaving the seven men staring after them through the dust they were raising.
Hawklan looked round at his reduced entourage. The past few days had taught him a great deal about the Mathidrin and, sadly, this confirmed what he had learned from his encounter with Urssain and Aelang. They were for the most part loutish and brutal, caring little for the animals they rode, nothing for the terrain they lived off, and precious little for the people they had encountered on their journey. Hawklan suspected that it was only his presence that had saved the animals and some of the villagers they had met from casual acts of gratuitous violence-sadism even. Admittedly they were well disciplined, but it was a discipline patently derived from fear. Such glimmers of intelligence as he had seen were heavily larded with cunning and dedicated to self-interested opportunism. It had been hard to keep his feelings to himself. Now, he did not feel disposed to accept the authority of this frayed remnant.
‘If that fire’s as big as it looks, there’ll be a lot of people hurt and needing help. Quickly now,’ he said authoritatively. ‘You two lead the way. Full gallop.’ The men hesitated. Hawklan glared at them. ‘Quickly, I said,’ he repeated menacingly with a flick of his head in the direction of the City. He could almost see the men’s reflexes crushing their doubts. Fear is an important key with these people, Hawklan reminded himself again.
Sylvriss burst into the room unannounced. ‘Lord Dan-Tor. What is this? What’s happening?’
Dan-Tor, tall and very still, was standing at the win-dow, staring out at the smoke rising high above the City. His gaze was baleful and, as he turned to face his Queen, a lingering residue of malevolence hung in his eyes like morning frost reluctant to obey the sun’s bidding. Sylvriss almost started under the impact of this look, but neither her face nor her posture showed any sign of alarm. Resolutely she reminded herself that this was the true nature of the man, and she forgot it at her peril.
‘With your permission, Majesty,’ he said, indicating Urssain and a group of other senior Mathidrin officers standing stiffly by. Sylvriss nodded her consent.
‘You have your orders,’ he said curtly. ‘I want the fire and the people under control with maximum dispatch. And I want the ringleaders taken alive if possible. There’s more to this than a spontaneous outburst. Dismissed.’
The men saluted and, after bowing to the Queen, left as stiffly as they had stood.
‘Lord Dan-Tor, what’s happening?’ the Queen re-peated as the door closed.
‘Majesty,’ said Dan-Tor, his face now more com-posed. ‘I’m afraid a small number of troublemakers have started a disturbance over in the west of the City. Unfortunately they’ve also started that.’ He indicated the view from the window.
Sylvriss went to the window and stared up at the towering column of smoke. ‘The King nearly saw it,’ she said anxiously. ‘I managed to get him to a room on the other side. He’s asleep now.’
Dan-Tor nodded solicitously, his eyes indifferent.
‘What is it that’s burning?’ Sylvriss continued.
‘One of my workshops,’ Dan-Tor replied.
‘But that smoke. So black, so dense, and that awful smell.’
Dan-Tor did not reply.
‘Who would do such a thing?’ Sylvriss asked, turning away from the window.
Dan-Tor allowed himself a small sigh of resignation, just sufficient to reach but not overstep the bounds of insolence. ‘Majesty,’ he said. ‘The Geadrol was sus-pended because enemies within were weakening us. We have the leaders of those enemies in our hands, but their followers, those they’ve deceived, are still at large, working their will.’
‘Surely the Lord Eldric and the others wouldn’t sanction such… ’ She gestured to the window, ‘such destruction?’
Dan-Tor gathered some documents together. ‘Maj-esty, my evidence tells me so.’
For a moment the Queen considered arguing the point, but changed her mind. Conflict with Dan-Tor at this point would serve no useful purpose, and he was in an odd mood. With a distressed look on her face, she turned back to the window and stared out again at the rising column of smoke. Then, looking down, she saw large numbers of Mathidrin, mounted and on foot, in the courtyard below. A faint spark of an idea formed in her mind. It threw its dim light on plans that she and Dilrap had laid. Plans laid mainly to allay the frustration of their impotence, but thorough for all that.
‘What are the Mathidrin doing?’ she asked.
Dan-Tor put his hand to his head. ‘Majesty, I’m afraid the disturbance is a large one. I suspect that there may be disaffected High Guards involved. It will have to be stamped out quickly and effectively or we may have serious and widespread violence to deal with.’
Before Sylvriss could speak, there was an urgent knocking at the door.
‘Enter,’ said Dan-Tor. The door opened immediately and a young Mathidrin trooper marched in. His face was blackened and a livid red graze above his right eye glistened painfully. His uniform was scuffed and crumpled, and he was breathing heavily. Saluting, he handed two notes to Dan-Tor whose face darkened as he read them.
Bad news, I trust, thought Sylvriss. Then, aloud, ‘Lord Dan-Tor. I can see you’ve the matter well in hand. I must return to the King. I’ll not disturb you further.’
Dan-Tor looked up. ‘Majesty,’ he acknowledged offhandedly.
Sylvriss turned and walked to the door ignoring the slight implicit in his tone. An odd mood indeed. As she passed the young Mathidrin she said, ‘Young man, when the Lord Dan-Tor has finished with you, go and have that gash attended to.’ The Mathidrin saluted smartly and there was a brief look of gratitude in his eyes.