The Warrior's Tale Part 33

'The son of a poxed wh.o.r.e sent sorcery agin' us,' he said. 'On'y fair if you c'n use it to turn it back agin him.' He tossed the chunk of soft wood in his hand measuringly, then, humming something utterly tuneless to my ears, set to work.

Later, in Gamelan's cabin, the old wizard had a chance to put his slowly renewed talent into practice. I remember how pleased I was as he held his hands over me, brow furrowed in concentration as he chanted: Turn away Turn away Your eyes are bothered There's naught to see.

He finished the spell, touched my head and either shoulder with a larch twig and shrugged. 'Well, if I've got any powers back, and if I remembered that baby incantation correcdy, I've given you some protection from the Archon, at least for a spell.'' spell.''

He smiled a little at his feeble joke, and I laughed, not so much at his words but because it was heartening to see Gamelan's spirits return to what they'd been before Konya. I hoped his powers continued returning apace, and sensed if they didn't, he'd drop back into his former gloom.

His smile faded and he looked anxious. 'Can you tell, Rali?'

His spell may have been simple in its execution, but I thought its intent quite clever. It was a subtle variation of the Archon's spell that had hidden the turtles.h.i.+ps under a fogbank, though requiring far less energy and materials to cast. It was intended only for magical 'vision', so that further simplified it. If an Evocator happened to be 'looking' at an area where I was, his 'eyes' would sting slightly, as if water droplets had been flipped in them, as indeed Gamelan had Pamphylia do when he started. It would be simpler and more convenient to look elsewhere, at something else, although that thought should never pa.s.s across the conscious mind of the seer.

'Now, how could I tell? I'm not very good yet at "seeing". Perhaps we might evoke an Archon or three and ask them?' I said, my own spirits brought up by Gamelan.

'Well, if it works, it works,' Gamelan said. 'If it doesn't, well, can I have your grimoire?'

We laughed and moved to the next piece of magic. Before we began I wondered aloud what it would be like to live in a world where magic never existed.

'Impossible,' Gamelan snorted. 'That would be like dreaming of a world without water to drink or air to breathe.'

My next thought was equally unimportant: 'Since mostly battle magic doesn't work, or doesn't work very well in the confusion of spells and counterspells, what would happen if you went into combat without bothering to cast any?'

'Did you ever heat an empty wine jug in a fire and then, before it could cool, stuff a cork tightly into its mouth?'

'The one time I tried it as a child, the jug shattered across the kitchen and my father sent me to my room for the rest of the day without a meal. But Amalric had better luck, and told me the cork was sucked into the jug with a loud pop.'

'Exactly what would happen if you fought a war without Evocators and their spells, even if they are mostly mummery or ineffective. The fire drove something out of that wine jug, and the emptiness was too great, pulling the cork in after it. Your enemy's magic would be drawn over you, like a bait net, and you'd be swept up like a school of minnows.'

'So it must be then, spell and counterspell and counter-counterspell and counter-counter-' 'Rali. We have work to do.'

We did. But before we went back to alembic and wand, I did have a wistful thought about that world without magic. G.o.ds, but war would be simpler if all you had to rely on was your brain, your muscles and your sword. In a world like that, there probably wouldn't be any armies, since there would've been no need to develop them, and men and women would setde their differences as our primitive fathers did, in single combat.

Once we had our magics ready, we summoned the surviving Konyan Evocators to our galley. There were only four - the rest had died when the Archon exploded Admiral Trahern's galley. But that gave us four acolytes, since the Konyans were indeed somewhat behind Orissan skills. We'd gathered those few unopened bags of wind from the other s.h.i.+ps, and, with those as a base, cast an incantation that would hopefully give the fleet not only a fair wind up the gut towards Ticino, but one we might control as to intensity and even direction.

I'd suggested this last might be achieved by placing one of the small longboat compa.s.ses in the mouth of the leather bag, and, as the spell was being chanted by the four Konyans, I snapped the needle with a fingernail so it spun wildly. One of the Konyans said when we were finished that my addition would likely mean the winds would either blow from all directions at once, or else we'd have a cyclone. I paid him no attention, knowing better.

As we sailed closer, the Archon's building storm disappeared, and I was rea.s.sured - if he was tracking us magically, he certainly would've moved the eye of his storm along with our s.h.i.+ps.

It was mid-afternoon when we sighted the first of the offsh.o.r.e islands. I'd become my flock of terns once more and scouted ahead of the fleet. I wasn't in any danger of being discovered, even in this familiar guise, as long as I stayed well away from the mainland. Most of the islands' watching-posts had been abandoned, their men recalled to Ticino after they'd seen our s.h.i.+ps sail past in disarray, and those still manned had sentries who were hardly at their most alert. Even so, when we approached another spell was begun. We were taking no chances. It was fortunate the day was cloudy, although I'd thought of an alternative incantation if the skies had been clear. On the open deck we set five braziers on high tripods to mark each point of a pentagram. In each brazier we burnt incense we thought pleasing to the Konyan G.o.ds of the air, and more important herbs as well, herbs that should bring magical potency whether the G.o.ds favoured it or not - laurel, mountain star, kalumb root and monkshood.

In the middle of the pentagram Gamelan had chalked symbols on the deck where I knelt before a low charcoal fire. Different herbs were cast into the fire, dandelion root and plantain among them, and a pot set to boil atop it. When the pot seethed and the steam billowed, I read certain names I'd written down on a scroll, together with a guide to their p.r.o.nunciation. I didn't know what language they were in, nor, surprisingly, did Gamelan.

'This is one of those spells that've been handed down from Evocator to Evocator since I do not know when. No one I asked, when it was my time to memorize these words, knew a translation, other than this was a way to call the clouds to cover you, and was mostly used by witches in the farming areas to lessen the effect of a blistering early summer sun on young plants.'

We'd modified the spell for our own needs, and, as I said the words, stumbling over their arcane p.r.o.nunciation, I glanced up, and saw, very slowly, very majestically, the clouds coming down to join their fellow, as we'd bidden them. We stopped the ceremony before the fog became so thick we couldn't see from s.h.i.+p to s.h.i.+p. It would be absurd if the magic intended to conceal so blinded us we rammed and sank each other with no necessity for an enemy.

Now magic and magicians were transferred to Admiral Bhzana's flags.h.i.+p. There was no room here on Stryker's galley, nor would it be the safest place when battle was joined. One Konyan was put in charge of maintaining the fog spell, ordered to chant the words if the fog began dissipating, and the other three set to maintaining the wind conjuration. Gamelan wondered if they were to be depended on, and thought perhaps he should stay with them. A trace of his former bitterness showed when he said, 'At least an old man like me wouldn't get in anyone's way over there.'

I was about to retort, but Pamphylia was quicker: 'Why, sir,' she said pertly, 'you must must be with us during the landing. I mean be with us during the landing. I mean someone someone has to be in the vanguard who's capable of raping as they say all soldiers must.' has to be in the vanguard who's capable of raping as they say all soldiers must.'

Gamelan snorted, but his good humour came back.

Xia was in our cabin when I entered. It was time for me to put on my battle harness. Xia wore the uniform of the Maranon Guard, had her armour nearby, and sat on her clothes-chest, looking at the bare sword she'd trained with so hard as if she'd never seen it before.

'Princess,' I began, speaking formally since what I was going to say was an order, not a request and not from a lover, or at least I hoped I'd reached my decision using logic, not love. 'When we go into battle-'

Xia interrupted, 'When we go into battle, I shall be beside you, Captain.'

I stopped. I'd figured she'd object to what I was going to tell her -to transfer to Admiral Bhzana's galley, or at the very least remain aboard Stryker's s.h.i.+p when we landed in Ticino, and had a response ready for that. But she'd slipped the mat from under me by using my tide, just as I'd attempted to start the discussion on more formal ground by doing the same.

'No Kanara has ever fought a battle from the safety of their tent. I shall not shame that tradition,' she said.

'All right,' I said. That's quite admirable, Princess. But you are the last Kanara. What if...'

Then my father will have to legitimize one or another of his b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and possibly even marry one of his concubines,' she said. 'And those weak-bellied sons of his l.u.s.t'll bring the family heritage cras.h.i.+ng down in ten years.

'But what of it,' she said. 'I care little about what happened before I was born, unless it affects me, and less about what happens after my death.

'For all I know... or care ... when I am taken by the one you call the Seeker this whole world will flicker and die out like a blown-out candle. Perhaps all of this has been put here just for my amus.e.m.e.nt.'

I was about to say something at this this piece of rather incredible arrogance when I saw she was hiding a grin and there was a wicked glint to her eye. piece of rather incredible arrogance when I saw she was hiding a grin and there was a wicked glint to her eye.

She laid the sword down on the deck and stood. 'There is another tradition in my family,' she said, her voice husky as she came to me. I was wearing only boots, a loose open-necked tunic that ended at mid-thigh and my own weapons belt. That fell to the deck with a thud, and her hands were on my shoulders, pulling my tunic down to my waist as my nipples rose, and then it, too, was on the deck and she lifted me in her arms and laid me atop it.

Xia never undressed, but took me as a warrior might take a maiden given him as a war-prize. Her lips and fingers were everywhere, caressing, stroking, then forcing, and I was thras.h.i.+ng, feeling the deck timbers sc.r.a.pe on my back, trying to keep from crying aloud as she sent me soaring high, higher even than my magic.

Eventually, in a day, a week, or a year, I came back, to see Xia lying on her side next to me, running a fingernail gently across my skin.

'A delightful tradition,' I managed. 'One I think the Anteros should adopt.'

I forced energy, and turned towards her, but she shook her head. 'After the battle, my Rali. After we've destroyed them. Then there'll be time and more for love.'

At full dark, our s.h.i.+ps slid past the portal-cities. None of the s.h.i.+ps showed lights, nor did I hear any shouts from any vessel as we slid along. I wished this had been the way it was two days earlier. There would now be several thousand men still breathing and dreaming of their homes and glory, instead of rotting silent corpses rolled along the ocean floor by the tides.

We'd arranged the order of battle before entering the gut. Now those half-wrecked hulks manned by Nor's Broken Men and other volunteers were in the vanguard. Our seven galleys were just behind, sailing in close company with Captain Yezo's five Konyan s.h.i.+ps. Astern was Admiral Bhzana's flags.h.i.+p and the rest of the fleet. I'd made no suggestions, issued no orders other than that his s.h.i.+ps were to close with and destroy any enemy they encountered. I a.s.sumed, or at least hoped, the division and s.h.i.+p captains were competent at ordering their own formations. I said it'd be unlikely they'd face the same problems with the enemy evading close battle during this night engagement as they had earlier, since we would hopefully have surprise as an ally. Finally, I ordered that no s.h.i.+p was to withdraw from battle unless specifically ordered by me and no one else, and that a great spell had been cast to send sea demons up to destroy any s.h.i.+p or sailor who disobeyed.

Not wanting to end my orders with such a lie, I'd thought for a moment, then scribbled, 'No man who sets his course towards the sound of battle this night can do wrong. The G.o.ds strike for Konya!'

Then there was nothing for me to do for a long while except wait and pray we weren't discovered.

Corais was beside me in the forepeak. We watched the lights of the portal-cities fade behind us as we sailed on towards Ticino. I turned away, to go back to the quarterdeck. She put a hand out to stop me.

'When you are back in Orissa,' she said, 'on the first day of summer, would you authorize a tournament of archers in my name? And let it be open to all, especially girls who might be drawn to join the Guard?'

I began to say something, then found other words. 'I will,' I said. 'And you'll be the main judge, and make the sacrifice to Maranonia.'

'Make it of the early summer flowers. Roses, wisterias, lilacs and such,' she said. 'Shed no blood in my name.'

'Very well,' I said. 'But there's one condition - you'll have to keep your hands off the archers, at least until their mothers have their backs turned.'

Corais smiled, and her fingers touched the bit of The Sarzana's robe tied around her upper arm. 'I thank you,' she said, but no more.

Ticino glimmered through the night and haze. Now I'd find out if my strategy would work. My main concerns hadn't been its potential, but whether our attack had been magically discovered, and a trap laid for us, plus, of course, the larger worry about whether the Konyans would fight or flee again.

I'd ordered the immediate return to The Sarzana's stronghold not from rage, nor to justify the old saw that a thrown horseman, if he ever wishes to ride without fear, must remount, but because I knew soldiers. After a victory, particularly a victory as smas.h.i.+ngly one-sided as theirs, celebration is in order. Soldiers wish to drink, eat, couple, re-affirm their hold on the world of the living.

Ideally we should've counter-attacked the same night we'd been driven out, but that had been clearly impossible. But when I reflected further, remembering how some of my post-battle hangovers had lingered, even when I'd soddenly attempted to drink them away, attacking The Sarzana on the second day might mean his forces were even less capable. We would know in bare moments. I could see the outline of the anch.o.r.ed Konyan s.h.i.+ps against the bright lights of Ticino. I could hear the shouts of celebrants, the clas.h.i.+ng music of military marches and drinking songs, and see the flare of torches on gondolas as they wove through the ca.n.a.ls that were Ticino's thoroughfares. There were but few lights in the harbour, not even the masthead truck lights most s.h.i.+ps set when anch.o.r.ed.

I gave an order, and Sergeant Ismet opened the shutter of her bullseye lantern in the long, short, long signal I'd arranged. The Evocators on Bhzana's s.h.i.+p should be obeying and increasing their chants. I felt the wind from the stern freshen, and Gamelan, who was standing beside me, said, 'At least they can follow orders. So far, anyway.'

'They'd better,' Polillo gritted. 'Or I'll I'll learn magic and cast some sort of spell that'll make what little remains of their c.o.c.ks shrivel and fall off.' learn magic and cast some sort of spell that'll make what little remains of their c.o.c.ks shrivel and fall off.'

She looked at Corais, expecting some rejoinder, but all she got was a wan smile and silence. Polillo looked concerned, then shrugged and went forward to her station at the catapults.

Our sails filled, and Duban hissed orders to set a reef - the wind was intended to help other, slower craft. It did - the large mainsails on the hulks ahead filled, and the s.h.i.+ps groaned as they were forced to speed. Tiny white wavelets appeared beside their bluff bows as they went forward. Captain Yezo's s.h.i.+ps also wallowed past at their full speed, their duties to begin before ours.

Thus far my strategy was working perfectly, and I began to worry, remembering the old adage that if your battle plan goes off without a hitch, you're walking into an ambush. A signal light flashed from an enemy picket boat, and a challenge shouted. Seconds later the first of Yezo's s.h.i.+ps smashed into the tiny craft, and sent its splintered fragments to the bottom. Men's screams drowned as the sea took them. Torches flamed on the Konyan hulks as my plan continued. These crippled s.h.i.+ps were sacrifices, fires.h.i.+ps, and as we'd sailed back towards Ticino they'd been loaded with flammables - oil barrels lashed to masts, other barrels below decks with old wax-drenched sails and tarred rigging to feed the flames. When the Konyan sorcerers had fed the wind, Nor's Broken Men and other volunteers aboard the hulks, had smashed in the tops of the casks and lit fires.

Flame roared into the night, and I heard screams and shouts as watches on The Sarzana's s.h.i.+ps came out of their stupor. In the red and yellow flames men were outlined on the fires.h.i.+ps as they flung their torches into the flammable deck cargo, and then the maindecks engulfed, ran for escape to the longboats towed behind each hulk. On one s.h.i.+p, they didn't run fast enough, and the fire reached out and took them, screaming, into its embrace. The fires.h.i.+ps were glowing like paper lanterns as they bore down on the anch.o.r.ed enemy.

The roadstead was chaos as The Sarzana's sailors tumbled on deck, fuddled by sleep or drink. I imagined the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.ds trying to decide what to do, which of the many screamed orders to obey. Here and there alert seamen axed mooring lines as the fires.h.i.+ps closed, and the wind caught those s.h.i.+ps and sent them drifting out of control down on their sisters. One of The Sarzana's galleys wasn't able to float free in time, and a fires.h.i.+p rammed it. Flames roared across to the other s.h.i.+p, and the great torch screamed up at the heavens. Another and then a third of The Sarzana's galleys burst into firestorms.

Behind us I heard thuds and crashes, as the few war machines on the Konyan s.h.i.+ps began launching missiles. They were still at too great a range, and waterspouts rose from the dark waters like deadly plants. Then one boulder after another smashed home against the decks of The Sarzana's s.h.i.+ps. Firearrows arced out over the night sky, and here and there more flames flickered on enemy decks.

The lead Konyan s.h.i.+p smashed into an enemy, and grapnels went across and the storming parties, shouting for blood, swarmed over the bulwarks. Another s.h.i.+p laid alongside it, and a third at its stern. Even these c.u.mbersome Konyan galleys could learn the tactics we'd devised, and worry their prey like packs of hunting beasts.

Our own mast-slas.h.i.+ng catapults were firing, on our galley and the other Orissan s.h.i.+ps. The masts of The Sarzana's s.h.i.+ps were easy targets, outlined black against the flames. But it didn't matter whether or not my bolts struck true or went on to crash into the city itself -they, like everything else, were intended only to wreak havoc and bring confusion. But from the happy yips and shouts from the foredeck, Polillo was thoroughly enjoying herself, after that long day earlier of inaction and defeat.

We had the greatest weapon of all on our side, surprise, and I intended to keep it. All this was diversion for my attack against the Archon. But I had one task before I could go for the kill. Closer to sh.o.r.e lay the turtles.h.i.+ps. They were crewed by more elite or sober seamen, because almost half of them had their oars out, had slipped their moorings, and were underway.

I took from its box the small model of the turtles.h.i.+p Santh had carved so carefully, that I'd treated with a spell and touched with the broadhead of an enemy arrow, to ensure it 'knew' its larger brothers and would seek them out. I set the model in a water-filled pan, not so much to further the emulation, but to prevent firing our own s.h.i.+p. I unstopped a vial and dripped lantern oil onto the little s.h.i.+p.

Oil take life Oil must grow Oil take wing Oil take fire.

I touched a splinter of wood to the illuminating fire in the binnacle until it flickered into life, then held it against the oil-soaked model.

Now you are fire Now you have power You are strong against the night .

You end the night None can stand All must fall Reach out and take All like all And all is meat Fire reach out.

The turtles.h.i.+ps exploded. I thought grimly that the Archon's weapon I'd first glimpsed in the sea of volcanoes had now flowered, and turned back on him. All him. All the turtles.h.i.+ps were caught by my spell, and seared into ruin. The armour-plating that had made them arrow-proof now was a trap. I saw very few sailors scramble out of the s.h.i.+ps' hatches before they charred to the waterline, rolled and went under, the magical fire burning them faster than any earthly flame could have. the turtles.h.i.+ps were caught by my spell, and seared into ruin. The armour-plating that had made them arrow-proof now was a trap. I saw very few sailors scramble out of the s.h.i.+ps' hatches before they charred to the waterline, rolled and went under, the magical fire burning them faster than any earthly flame could have.

The harbour was as light as full day. City lights were blazing on, as Ticino stumbled back to alertness, but I didn't have time to worry about that, as I began yet another spell. I didn't think this was necessary, but the Konyans had broken once before at an illusion, and I had no intention of losing this battle if that conjuration was used again.

Gamelan had a brazier ready, and onto it I sprinkled, among other dried herbs, wort and rue against sorcery and rosemary as a guardian against death.

Eyes, see!

Eyes unblinded See what is See what is See the truth See through the veil See beyond the mist Eyes unfooled.

The tiny cloud of smoke grew and grew, and spread behind us, across the Konyan s.h.i.+ps, and then vanished. I'd warned Admiral Bhzana of my incantation to keep the living-dead illusion from taking effect, and instructed him to tell his sailors not to take alarm, but even so I heard shouts of fear, and a couple of s.h.i.+ps veered from their course. I swore, but had no time for that, either, because Captain Yezo's five s.h.i.+ps were closing on their targets. Those were the five seagates from the ocean into Ticino's ca.n.a.ls, normally kept closed to lessen the tide's effect. I saw soldiers running onto the waterfront in fighting order and showering the s.h.i.+ps with arrows and spears. But it was far too late.

Now it was time to shed my Evocator's cloak, such as it was, and gladly return to what I knew best. Sword in hand, I pelted off the quarterdeck and forward, along the storming bridge to where my a.s.sault party waited. Xia grinned, a hard, humourless smile she probably wasn't even aware of, and now we were closing on the Ticino docks.

Five of Yezo's s.h.i.+ps ... five seagates ... I'd ordered him to strike direcdy in from the sea at the gates, where the water would be deepest. One veered to the side either by accident or perhaps the helmsman had been hit, and ran aground, hard against the embankment. But Evidently the soldiers didn't recognize the intent of the attack, because some of them broke off firing at the other four, and ran to concentrate fire on the stricken s.h.i.+p which had failed in its mission. Yezo's s.h.i.+ps were seconds from cras.h.i.+ng, and I saw Yezo's men were as disciplined as he boasted. Sailors, ignoring the arrowstorm, were cutting the ropes that bound anchors to improvised derricks hung over the s.h.i.+ps' sterns, as they'd hastily trained to do, and the anchors splashed into the dark harbour waters.

Yezo's four s.h.i.+ps struck. I heard the rending crashes loud above the roar of the battle in the roadstead as all four struck fair into the centre of the entry-ports, sending the sailors aboard sprawling. Then the men came back to their feet as the s.h.i.+ps they'd deliberately wrecked lurched and rolled on their beam ends, then back, and were at the crude windla.s.ses we'd had mounted on the quarterdecks, kedging the s.h.i.+ps out of our way.

I heard Stryker shouting for full sail, and Duban crying to our oarsmen for speed and more speed, but was intent on Yezo's craft. Slowly, laboriously, one, two, then three were moving back, freeing the ca.n.a.l mouths. On the fourth I saw a flicker as both anchor cables snapped and whipped back across the decks, cutting men down as they lashed. But three gates were open to the ca.n.a.ls, our pa.s.sage into the heart of the city. Three openings, and on his flags.h.i.+p Cholla Yi was bellowing and I was shouting, and our oars were coming up, feathered, as our galleys, driven by that now high magical wind from the Evocators shot into the gullys. I heard wood scream and rend as one s.h.i.+p ground along the stone ca.n.a.l banks, but it mattered not how close the fit was as long as we were still moving.

The waterway widened, and we could row, and our s.h.i.+ps drove onward. Ticino's planners had laid out their city logically - the ca.n.a.ls ran straight from the waterfront, and ended around the city's main square. That efficiency would doom the city. Ahead was the empty square overhung by The Sarzana's huge round tower. I had a moment to glance behind, as I heard the din of battle building, and knew what was happening. Yezo's men were coming off their s.h.i.+ps as they'd been ordered - swimming, jumping, or, hopefully, using the long planks we'd put aboard as gangways. Their orders now were simple -to spread panic in the city by fire and sword. They'd been told to spare the citizens and take no loot, but I knew better than to expect that of most of them. Not far behind them, if the battle in the roadstead went as hoped for, the other Konyan s.h.i.+ps would be landing troops with the same orders.

I wanted chaos, because if Ticino was drowned in rack and ruin our real enemies might not notice my women and the mercenaries striking for their throats.

I heard Duban shriek pain as 'his s.h.i.+p', our galley, slammed into the stone wharf at the edge of the square, but what of that? If we lived the Konyans would rebuild our galleys a thousand times over before we sailed for home. Gangplanks slammed down and we poured ash.o.r.e, onto the hard stone square of Ticino. Other galleys came sliding out of the ca.n.a.ls. But there was no time to pause, nor even look around, and I was running hard for the stairs that curled up to the causeways to the tower. There were five, no six sentries, but they were dead, stumbling down with shafts in their chests that had punched through their armour like it wasn't there.

The causeways were open, and I could see into the heart of The Sarzana's stronghold, and we were running harder than before, desperate to get inside before the gates that must exist could crash closed. There were archers on the top of the ringwall ahead of us, and an arrow sc.r.a.ped brick next to me and pinwheeled away. Our bows thrummed, and arrows sang away and those walls were bare.

I heard the battie-cries of my women, Corais's yip-yipping like the savage fox she was, and felt a flash of brief joy. This was what I'd built the Guard for, what I'd led them towards. Now they were my s.h.i.+ning battle-blade, and now I'd strike a deathblow with them. We were united in that moment, in that blood-drenched run down the causeway, past the slumped bodies of soldiers. This was what my life was meant to be, not an endless array of hobbling up and down at sentry-go, nor crouched around a fire muttering incantations like some dried-body crone, but even as the red thought came through my blood joy I knew it false.

We were a few yards from the short tunnel that led through the tower's ringwall into an inner keep when rusting metal, long-unused, grated, and I saw the iron spikes of a portcullis grind down from an overhead slot. Then Locris and Polillo slammed into it, keeping it from closing. Four other women - I don't remember three of them, but one was Legate Neustria - leaped past me, and one of them jammed a spear into the groove the second, inner portcullis was supposed to travel down, and jammed it. I stood in the centre of that tunnel, and saw Polillo impossibly holding the iron grating by herself, and then Locris reappeared, half-carrying, half-dragging a balk of lumber that she forced up into position, bracing the portcullis open, and the way was clear.

Up the causeway ran the rest of my women from the other galleys and behind them Cholla Yi and his men. Far below, in the square, I saw three figures, and knew they were Gamelan, indomitable even in his blindness, and his two escorts. There were bodies down on the causeway, bodies of my Guardswomen, too many for me to keep my eyes on, and I turned back towards the keep on the other side of this tunnel that led to the tower. From above me, through a murder-hole in the centre of the tunnel's roof a crossbow string snapped and a bolt slashed into Locris's side, burying itself nearly to the vanes. She screamed, clawed at the bolt, took two steps and died. A bow-woman sped a shaft back through the slot, but there was no one there, or at least we heard no sound of a hit.

We were running again, out of the tunnel into the lighter darkness of the keep, and now the great round tower rose above us. Its monstrous gates were barred and, in line in front of them was a company of crossbowmen.

I shouted 'Down,' and we were flat, just as we'd trained so long in our mock-charges, and Xia thudded down beside me as the crossbow strings tw.a.n.ged as loudly as slashed s.h.i.+p-cables and the bolts whined overhead, catching only one or two of Cholla Yi's men who'd never learned to duck.

Five yards from me, Dica leapt to her feet. 'Come on! Before they've time to reload,' and was running, sword high, no one else on her feet, and before I had a chance to shout warning the front row of crossbowmen knelt and the second rank fired, and Dica contorted, hurling her blade high into the night sky, and then she fell.

The night was sudden red, not the red of fire but of blood as the Guard came up and charged, screaming rage, and poured across the courtyard like quicksilver, like lightning. Ismet was beside me, snarling like a jungle cat for her once-lover as she ran, and we were among the crossbowmen with sword and axe before any of them had time to c.o.c.k their pieces, and so they died to a man where they stood. Guardswomen went down with them - in that fierce moment of slaughter Neustria and Jacara went to the Seeker along with others.

I had a mere second to mourn Dica. Of course she'd erred in rus.h.i.+ng the bowmen before she realized they hadn't shot their course, but she died bravely and she died at the head of her troops. I wondered how many Guardswomen might've hesitated before charging, given that front rank time to reload and died if it hadn't been for Dica's unknowing sacrifice. That's the way all too many of my best have met the Seeker, and why the Maranon Guard has buried as many officers as privates.

The huge gates into the keep were barred, but our sudden b.l.o.o.d.y rush had left the soldiers without time to close their small sally-port, and before anyone within could move, we were inside.

Polillo somehow had got in front of me, and there were three soldiers coming at her. I suppose to them, she was a blur, a killing engine, but to me her movements were very precise, very slow, and exact as she used the head of her axe to shove one man back into another, then while they stumbled, recovering, to change her thrust and lunge, as if the axe were a halberd and bury its curved head in the third man's throat. Without changing stance, she recovered, her enormous strength pulling the axehead free as the other two came at her. She batted the first man's sword out of line like a kitten with a stick, and with the backswing used the bill to hook and snap the neck of the second man. The first man shrieked and tried to flee, but Polillo, still moving as carefully as if she were demonstrating the Art of the Axe to awe-stricken recruits, sent it cras.h.i.+ng into the back of his spine and the man flopped away like a gaffed fish.

A man lunged with a long bill, and Xia slashed through the weapon's wooden shaft and the man's arm as well. Spouting gore, he shrieked and fell.

In that instant I 'felt' the spell Gamelan had cast vanish, and knew I stood naked to the gaze of the Archon. I 'heard' a scream of surprised rage, and we all felt the stone flags under our feet grind and rumble, as if we were in an earthquake, but I knew it was just another sign of the Archon's shock at having been fooled, as he realized I yet lived.

I shouted the charge again, and we dashed down a long, twisting corridor. Squads of soldiers came out of doorways, and arrows flashed past or found a target, spears clattered against stone walls as The Sarzana's guard tried to stop us, tried to rally, but couldn't, and the men died, were driven back into their cuddies or they died. Then the corridor ended, and the roof rose high, and we were in The Sarzana's throne room. The domed ceiling was a hundred feet above, the chamber was two hundred feet or more in diameter. The walls were hung with tapestries or battle standards, and there were flaring torches on the walls and a huge fire guttering down at one wall.

The room was empty save for my soldiers and, on a high-raised dais in the centre of the room, The Sarzana. That is all any of my women, or Cholla Yi and the handful of men who'd followed us down the corridor saw.

I saw more.

Standing above The Sarzana, looming like a puppeteer bestrides his marionettes, was the Archon! He was huge, maybe thirty feet, and I could see the stories of the far wall through his only partially-material body. His arms were coming up, to strike at me.