With Pil she could say what she wanted without being judged.
'How can I be a proper reeve when I hardly know how to fly, can barely handle my raptor, and haven't the least idea what to do in a fight? I lost sight of Kesta and you. I would have been lost except for the river. I came to Clan Hall to get training. Now there isn't time. At least you know how to fight.'
'The commander makes this decision, how to train new reeves.'
His calm words smoothed the turbulence in her heart. Someone would have to take charge, and then things would change. 'Flying provisions up from Nessumara might not seem like much, but it's something. As long as we hold Law Rock, the people of Toskala have a hope that we can overcome the enemy. That matters, doesn't it?'
Since she expected no answer, she was content to lean on the railing as stars came out between the patchwork clouds. The voice of the river blended with the steady wind in her ears. After a while, a lantern bobbed toward them, and Kesta walked up.
'I wondered where you had gotten to.' She hooked the lantern over a post and leaned on the railing next to Nallo. 'Did you ever figure out what's troubling you?'
'I just feel cursed useless, that's all, but maybe once the halls choose a new commander we can get some kind of order and routine restored.'
'So we can hope.' Her hand was curled invitingly close to Nallo's on the railing.
Nallo sucked in a sharp breath.
Pil took a step back. 'Fire!'
One moment it was like a lantern's light flaring in a distant quarter; the next, flames rippled skyward.
'That's in Stone Quarter!' Kesta ran to the fire bell, grabbed the rope, and swung the clacker back and forth.
The noise rose skyward like the blaze, and a cadre of firefighters came running from the barracks to crowd on the balcony and watch, but of course there wasn't a cursed thing they could do except to wonder what in the hells was going on in the occupied city.
The touch of a hand roused Nekkar, and he flinched.
'I'm here to help you, Holy One,' said a female voice softly. She spoke with an odd way of rounding her e's, and she stank so badly he gagged. 'Can you move?'
A horrible taste coated his mouth. But when he twitched his feet, his legs, his hands, his shoulders, nothing seemed broken, although shifting the twisted ankle made his eyes tear.
'I think I can walk. Was I beaten?'
'Alas, you were, Holy One. I saw it all from the rooftop. But then they were called off to some other task before they could finish the job, fortunately for you.'
'Who are you, verea?'
'Let's get you out of this rubbish.'
The ground slid beneath them as she hauled him out of a pile of stinking garbage. He could barely put weight on his left ankle; pain ripped through his shoulders with each movement. She led him to a ladder propped in the gap between gutter and eaves and, after looping a rope around his midsection, supported him up to the roof of a low storehouse. There he sprawled, spread-eagled and fearful he'd slide and plunge over, back into the rubbish heap. She pulled up the ladder.
'We've got to move you away from this alley, Holy One, before the soldiers come back looking for you. Can you move?'
The pain made tears flow. 'Yes.'
She patted his forearm. 'You've got courage, Holy One. Follow me.'
They wedged the ladder into a higher set of eaves to get from the storehouse up onto the warehouse roof proper. He tried not to let his weight drag on the rope, but as they bellied up to the peak of the roof, he slipped twice and she dug in her toes and halted his fall. Once at the peak it was easier to move sideways to the far end of the warehouse.
Like the other quarters, Stone Quarter was laid out in blocks, each block made up of compounds, one vast architecture of roofs crammed in against each other except for the occasional courtyards associated with artisans' and guild workshops and the six temple grounds. Tonight, not even one paper lantern was hung out under eaves to illuminate the walkways below. No street vendors sold noodles or soup; no apprentices staggered drunkenly down the avenues roaring popular melodies.
They reached the warehouse's edge just above an archway whose span bridged the avenue below to reach the roofs on the other side of the street. 'Hold on, ver. This part is tricky.'
'We're going across?'
'We are. I'm taking you to your temple. But you'll have to help me find it once we get down on the streets.'
'The soldiers will arrest us for being out after curfew. You're not local, I can hear it. They'll cleanse you.'
'They won't catch us.'
She let herself down the pitch, then helped him negotiate a pair of drops that brought them to the span. It was a festival arch, sturdy enough. In daylight it would be seen to be painted a brilliant yellow, but the shadows were kind and it was not difficult to
scoot across with a leg on either side of the peak. They were about halfway across when the woman slumped against the tiles. Feet shuffled and slapped on the street below. He flattened himself as lantern light bobbed into view. Soldiers drove a mob of folk down the avenue. Many of the prisoners were sobbing; others trudged silently, heads bowed. A few called out.
'At least allow us to gather our belongings before you expel us! We never did anything wrong!'
'Please let me return and get my children! They'll starve. You can't be so heartless.'
'Sheh!' The swaggering man at the front barked a laugh. 'They break curfew, and yet they complain about usV
'They could have stayed in their villages instead of running to the city, eh?' agreed another soldier. 'Makes 'em look like they have something to hide, I reckon.'
A man broke, making a dash toward the alley snaking away behind the warehouse compound. While the forward contingent of soldiers pressed the rest of the group onward, three others went running after the fleeing man. So no one looked up as the crowd passed under the arch and down the avenue into a night illuminated only by the lanterns carried by the soldiers.
From the alley, a man's screams rose, then failed abruptly.
After a moment, the three soldiers trotted out of the alley and hurried under the arch after the others, chortling and boasting as if they hadn't just killed a man.
'So I said, "You've not fattened up that veal yet." Heh. That's when I called you two over. We'd have given that foreign slave something to trim his pinched face, eh? Thinking he had the right to say no to us, eh! If sergeant hadn't called up formation just right then, I'd've bust him down.'
A comrade answered. 'You report him? That you saw an out-lander, I mean?'
'Sure I did, but I got no coin because their tent wasn't there no more when I led the captain over that way. I wonder what happened to that lot of young whores.'
'If they tried to set up in the city, they'll just be thrown out, neh? Like the rest of these gods-rotted refugees.'
Their laughter faded into the gloom.
His shoulders throbbed and his ankle burned, and he was furious and shaking, but he crept after his companion to the next roof and after that to another, the huge rations warehouse
overlooking Terta Square. There, arms hugging the roof ridge-line, they rested.
The square was lit by lanterns fixed on poles. Directly opposite, the temple dedicated to Kotaru was flanked on one side by a militia barracks brimful with enemy soldiers and on the other by a fire station left without a night guard except for its loyal dog. The rest of the square's frontage was taken up by several large inns and substantial emporia now shuttered and dark. There were four wells sunk into the center, guarded by a contingent of soldiers. A long line of people still waited outside the Thirsty Saw, guarded by yet more soldiers. Several shuffled in through the door while, from the alley that led into the back courtyard of the inn where he had seen the Guardian, ten or more hapless folk came staggering out into the square clutching their left forearms. These refugees were prodded into line. Over in the gloom by the alley entrance lay a pair of discarded bodies.