The Ragged Man Part 25

'Count Feers is guilty of nothing but proclaiming the majesty of the G.o.ds and their authority over all,' the soldier roared.

'Then the G.o.ds will see to it he is acquitted,' Vesna said. 'Until then he is under arrest.'

'You may not have him, nor may your lackeys!' the n.o.bleman screamed, pointing towards the gate. 'We serve the G.o.ds. We will die to protect their majesty.'

Vesna stopped. Clearly there was something he did not yet know about the situation. 'Who is outside the gate?' he asked.

'The heretics you sent to murder priests, the criminals who wish to plunder the temples and steal rule of the tribe from those the G.o.ds intended,' he snarled.

Vesna scratched his cheek, where the ruby in his skin was suddenly itching fiercely.

'Kill them all,' whispered Karkarn in his ear. 'There is no place for madmen and fools in this Land.'

Vesna instinctively shook his head at the sudden intrusion, as though he could dislodge the G.o.d from it, and his hand twitched towards his sword before he could catch himself.

The n.o.bleman saw the movement and took a step back to plant his feet more firmly. He gripped his sword.

Enough of your help, Vesna thought as he drove the War G.o.d from his thoughts. This must end without bloodshed, otherwise it will lead to civil war.

Carefully, deliberately he withdrew his hand, and when the n.o.bleman had relaxed a touch Vesna dismounted. A man on horseback had a clear advantage in battle - whether they would admit it or not, Vesna knew the veterans would see it as a pacifying action. He removed his helm so they would be able to see the ruby on his cheek more clearly and walked towards them, not deviating when they turned aside and opened up the path towards the guardhouse.

The penitents standing ready at the door retreated when he reached them. Vesna could feel the eyes of everyone in the market on him, watching every small movement, waiting for the action that would spark the violence.

He thumped on the guardhouse door and called out, 'Sergeant? Is all well in there?'

He could hear the scuffle of feet inside, then the sound of boots on a ladder before the reply eventually came. 'Aye, sir, we're not harmed.'

'Then open the door please, and bring your prisoner out.'

'Ah, beggin' yer pardon, sir, but who's givin' the order?'

'Count Vesna, acting under the authority of Lord Fernal.'

Using Fernal's disputed t.i.tle seemed to do the trick. He heard the screech of heavy iron bolts being drawn back, and something heavy being dragged from the reinforced oak door. It opened cautiously, just enough to catch sight of the man outside, but Vesna's armour alone was unmistakable to any man of the Ghosts. Quickly the door opened all the way to reveal the grim faces of a dozen Palace Guards, dressed in full battle armour. Behind them was the whiskered face of Count Feers, purple with outrage as he barged towards Vesna.

'You of all men come to accuse me? Murderer, adulterer, hypocrite - hypocrite - ' '

Vesna raised a cautioning hand. 'Think very carefully about your next words, Count Feers. Tensions are running high and there are already serious charges against you. If you incite others to violence against the Ghosts . . . well, I doubt you need much convincing as to the Chief Steward's vindictive nature. He would extend any punishment laid down upon you to every member of your family.'

The threat had the desired effect; Lesarl's reputation among the n.o.bility was well deserved. However deep his fanaticism, Feers had a large family and it was a fair bet at least one of them meant something to him. It took a few heartbeats, but then the count's shoulders sagged and he capitulated, allowing the Ghosts to lead him out without further resistance.

'Ah, my lord?' one of the soldiers still in the guardroom piped up.

Vesna turned to see four anxious faces. 'What is it?'

'Outside the gate, my lord, there's a couple of regiments out there, under the command of Suzerain Yetah.'

'Tsatach's fiery b.a.l.l.s,' Vesna groaned, 'that's the last thing I need right now.'

Now he realised why the Palace Guardsmen were looking so concerned. Kollen Yetah being here right now meant trouble in some form or another, though this was a curious twist, considering the n.o.bleman's words of a minute ago. Yetah's family had been as entrenched in the Knights of the Temples as much as any man's, for a century or more - although they had always complied with Lord Bahl's edicts about the Devoted. Suzerain Yetah was an unlikely person to be bent on defiling temples.

'He's demanding the gate be opened immediately.'

'I'm sure he is.' To himself Vesna muttered, 'd.a.m.n, what part is he intending to play?' He didn't wait for the men to respond; there was only one way he'd get an answer and that was by speaking to the man himself.

'Open the gate,' he ordered.

The sergeant saluted and directed his men to start the process of removing the great bolts locking the gate closed. 'Lot of angry soldiers out there, sir,' he commented in a neutral voice, not wanting to sound like he was questioning orders.

'I know, but neither of us has the authority to deny a suzerain, and General Lahk is not here at present.'

Vesna confirmed the Ghosts with Count Feers were not being prevented from joining their comrades. The various troops under command of the cults hadn't moved. They didn't look happy about the situation, but as long as no one was raising weapons, Vesna was happy.

As soon as the gate opened a tall man with a mop of curly hair stormed through, four knighted hurscals at his heel. He looked good for a man ten summers older than Vesna, though he walked was a noticeable limp, favouring the right leg that had been recently broken when Lord Isak had called for soldiers to join his crusade.

Yetah wasn't the only suzerain to have moved troops into Tebran, just the boldest. He was an experienced soldier, having spent almost ten years in Lomin commanding a cavalry division, but he appeared to have lost none of his youthful belligerence in that time.

He walked straight up to the count, making a dismissive gesture when Vesna made to kneel and offer his sword, and cried, 'Good to see you again, Vesna- I hear congratulations are in order. Some filly broken you at last, or are you just getting old?'

A cuira.s.s was plainly visible under the suzerain's livery, and he carried a red broadsword with a lightning flash down the blade that reflected his family's long-standing allegiance to the Devoted.

'A bit of both, my Lord Suzerain,' Vesna replied coolly. 'I am glad to see you are recovering.'

Yetah pointed to his leg. 'This? Pah, teach me to jump fallen trees on an old horse. Have you arrested Count Feers?'

Vesna blinked. Yetah's information was better than he'd have expected; the arrest warrant had only just been issued and had barely been announced to the city. 'He is in custody, my lord; the stand-off is over.'

'But the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are still here?' Yetah exclaimed, looking past Vesna. 'They're still armed? What's stopping you? They should all be in irons and on the way to the gibbet by now!'

'Gibbet? Sir, why are you here, and leading troops into the city no less?'

'Doing what must be done,' Yetah snapped. 'If you will do nothing about this gradual coup by the cults, then it falls to the armies of the Farlan to protect our nation.'

'Coup?' Vesna said in a daze. 'Yetah, you're a member of the Knights of the Temples - '

'You will address me as "my Lord Suzerain" - need I remind you that we are not peers?' Yetah replied sharply. 'As for my allegiances, they are none of your concern. I am a n.o.bleman of the Farlan and a loyal soldier of the tribe. Whether or not a usurper currently holds the ducal throne, my duty to the tribe remains. I will not stand idly by while b.l.o.o.d.y mutinous priests exploit the majesty of their G.o.ds to take power.'

Vesna looked back and saw the penitents drawing back, but rather than fleeing they were taking a defensive position at the mouth of a side-street. 'My Lord Suzerain, what you propose would result in a pitched battle in the streets of Tirah - we would have civil war - '

'If there are traitors within the tribe, let them declare themselves so,' Yetah shouted towards the penitents. 'This creeping theft of authority must stop. The politicking and deal-making to sell the nation is over. They will learn our resolve and discover the consequences of their actions.'

Vesna raised his hands, a pacifying gesture that kept them away from the hilt of his weapon as much as anything. Yetah's hurscals looked as fiercely resolute as their master, and itching for a fight.

Vesna had been hearing reports of suzerains reacting against the cults since returning to Tirah, but thus far it had been small-scale actions in distant parts. Suzerain Saroc had routed a party of a hundred soldiers at a monastery on his land, where they had been conducting Morality Tribunals and Tests of Faith that amounted to torture, but that had been the biggest engagement so far. Every morning brought news of deaths from one part of the nation or another, but they were all skirmishes involving a few dozen combatants at most. This was on another level entirely.

No one could ignore a battle involving hundreds on the streets of Tirah, nor fail to react to it. From where he was standing Vesna's view was restricted, but he could see at least two regimental banners behind Yetah.

'Suzerain Yetah,' he said carefully, 'contrary to what you have heard, the rule of law still governs the streets of Tirah. If you bring troops onto the streets of Tirah, you would be breaking the law, and force us to respond.'

'Don't bother to threaten me, Vesna, your position in all this is as much in question as that of the monster you serve now,' Yetah growled.

'Lord Fernal was named legitimate heir and Lord of the Farlan by Lord Isak, and I act in his name.' Vesna paused, trying to slow things down as much as he could. 'Suzerain Yetah, you must see that Lord Isak realised we need a strong ruler this coming year; we cannot wait for Lord Nartis to appoint a new Chosen! Without a figure to unite the tribe we will be invaded and conquered by the Menin.'

'Whatever the consequences of Lord Isak's warmongering, we will not accept a non-Farlan to rule the tribe - otherwise we might as well submit to Kastan Styrax and see his flag fly from the Tower of Semar!'

Vesna took a step back and lowered his hand to his hilt. There was obviously going to be no reasoning with the man. The ruby on his cheek glowed b.l.o.o.d.y red. 'Sir, with the greatest respect, I cannot allow you to lead troops into Tirah; I will not let you pa.s.s.'

'You do not have the authority to stop me, d.a.m.n you!' Yetah roared, drawing his sword. 'You should have already given up the rights and rank of t.i.tle - whoever your master, you have no right to command the Ghosts now, so get out of my way. I am acting to protect the tribe, and to stop me you will have to cut me down!'

Yetah started forward, certain in the knowledge that Vesna wouldn't kill a man of higher rank, but when a sword-tip appeared at his throat Yetah nearly tripped in his surprise and outrage. He looked at the count and blinked. 'Vesna, I mean you no harm. Step aside and let me pa.s.s. If you kill me, you will be cut down, or the law will see you hang, you know that.'

Vesna nodded. He did know it, and he knew too there would be no defence he could bring that would avoid it. Suzerain Yetah was his superior, both in t.i.tle and military rank, and if he killed the man and avoided a hanging, that would invalidate any claims Lord Fernal might make about protecting the tribe's laws. He just had to gamble that he wouldn't kill the man.

'Then lower your sword, sir.'

'I will not.'

Yetah lurched to the left, trying to step around Vesna, but the count was a renowned duellist and swordsman, and he was there before him, his sword still raised. Yetah swatted the tip away from his face with his own blade, but as he advanced Vesna stepped forward and dropped his shoulder into the suzerain, shoving him backwards.

'd.a.m.n you, Vesna,' Yetah snapped. He struck without warning but Vesna was faster and caught the blade, again stepping into Yetah and this time hammering the pommel of his sword against the suzerain's cuira.s.s.

The move drove him back another pace, but the s.p.a.ce was quickly made up by the youngest of the hurscals, who swung a wild blow at Vesna's head. The count retreated, fending off blows for a few paces before flicking his opponent's sword away and punching the man's arm with his black-iron fist, snapping the bone and sending the man reeling into the hinge of the now-open gate.

A second man attacked with more purpose, his s.h.i.+eld raised high. Vesna, moving with blurring speed, stepped around the hurscal's lunge, and the man fell screaming. A diagonal cut had sheared his s.h.i.+eld in two, and the arm behind it.

The others hesitated, stunned by the count's unnatural speed.

Vesna took a step back. He could feel the power of the Crystal Skull begging to be used. As soon as he focused on it the Skull emitted a bright white pulse, and the remaining hurscals stopped dead in their tracks.

'Enough - stay your swords,' Vesna called. 'Suzerain Yetah, order your men back. I will not kill you, my lord, but I will kill any other man who tries to pa.s.s.'

No one else stepped forward. Vesna met the eye of each one. None had the strength of will to keep their weapon raised. He pointed to the injured men.

'See to your comrades, then leave this place and return to your own lands. Tell any others you meet: the law is not yours to protect, unless so ordered by the Lord of the Farlan. If any man intends to kill his fellow Farlan, he must face me first.'

He turned away and stopped dead when he saw the companies of the Palace Guard were lined up in defensive formation. Sir Cerse, the legion's colonel, offered him a crisp salute, and after a moment he returned it. They had been ready to defend him, even to fight their own alongside him if necessary.

And that's a gift even G.o.ds cannot give, Vesna thought as the ranks parted to allow him through. Swordmaster Pettir handed him the reins of his horse.

'Lesarl will be pleased with you,' Pettir said with mocking cheer.

Vesna scowled. 'This cannot continue.'

CHAPTER 19.

Ruhen smiled, his face turned to the afternoon sun. Its diffused light cast a pale yellow tint over the valley, while long shadows enveloped the waiting soldiers. He felt its warmth on his face as he breathed in the fresh clear air. Winter's grip was lessening day by day and he could smell the change in the air, even if the arguing delegates nearby couldn't.

In the wake of the dragon, the valley housing the Library of Seasons had taken on a dismal air. All of the white stone buildings had been damaged and the beast's gigantic corpse still rotted below the southern cliff, but today Ruhen could taste something other than decay on the breeze. A hundred yards away there were tables set out on the gra.s.s, as close to the centre of the valley as they could judge. Without Ruhen close at hand d.u.c.h.ess Escral's wits had returned enough for her to lead the debate, but as yet there had been no progress.

Lord Styrax sat beneath a huge army standard emblazoned with his Fanged Skull, looking bored, while the white-eye Duke Vrill, his pet politician, stood at his side shouting something at the men in scarlet sashes opposite.

The Knights of the Temples were divided into three distinct camps, each desperate to a.s.sert authority over the others while the negotiations stagnated. The Knight-Cardinal led one, a pair of generals, envoys for Raland and Embere, comprised the second, while the scarlet-faced priests of several cults made up the third faction.

Two squads of Devoted heavy infantry were a.s.sembled behind them, watching the proceedings with as much bemus.e.m.e.nt as the Ruby Tower Guards behind d.u.c.h.ess Escral; Ruhen could see only contempt on the faces of the elite Menin soldiers around the valley.

'I've beginning to wonder,' said Ilumene from behind Ruhen, 'whether our presence has somehow only made things worse.' The big mercenary smirked as he spoke. He pretended to straighten the white patchwork robe he'd worn specifically to annoy the priests. The missionaries preaching Ruhen's message of peace had been first admitted to Akell, the Devoted quarter of the Circle City. Knight-Cardinal Certinse had given their presence his tacit blessing, but as soon as the cults heard their preaching, every priest in the quarter started screaming for blood. That Ilumene was attending the official negotiations dressed as one of Ruhen's ensured the priests were filled with bile and fury when they started proceedings.

'Let them dig their own graves,' Ruhen replied and closed his eyes to savour the warmth of the sun.

'Aye, every soldier there was disgusted by the reaction, I marked that well. It's even taught me to be civil. The more polite I am to the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, the more crazed they look!'

'Progress through discord.'

The boy contrived to look eight or nine summers now, though small and slender for that age he was in truth far younger. Ilumene realised he had shaken off the gangly awkwardness of early childhood, instead moving with the precision and elegance that normally only follows p.u.b.erty.

'So when do you step in?'

'Not quite yet; let them tire a little more.' Ruhen opened his eyes again and focused on the Knight-Cardinal. The man looked beleaguered, as well he might, but he had not yet looked in Ruhen's direction. Certinse had accepted Luerce's offer of a.s.sistance readily enough, and he knew the part he had to play. The more Ruhen could be seen as the answer to the Devoted's problems - and in time the fulfilment of their prophecies - the more Certinse could wrest control of his Order from the clerics paralysing it . . . yet he had not yet committed himself.

Ilumene fell silent, sensing Ruhen didn't want to speak any more. He could see soldiers watching the boy, trying to be surrept.i.tious, but unable to stop staring at the child they were hearing so many stories about. The priesthood was at the very heart of the Knights of the Temples, with every officer an ordained priest, albeit usually in one of the less-demanding cults. Every cuira.s.s was inscribed with a prayer, and every day was heralded with the devotionals spoken en ma.s.se en ma.s.se.

Originally the religious aspect had been a veneer for the majority, a small matter, accepted in return for the Order's weekly stipend, but it was no longer such; the common soldiers were beginning to feel their holy charge more as a yoke around their necks. They were informed on by their own, even flogged for impious behaviour, and resentment had been building for months. Some had been mooting retaliation of some sort, but it was hard to fight back against the appointed of the G.o.ds ... unless the priests themselves were at fault, and then it would not be impious at all.

This was fertile ground for Ruhen's message of peace, his dismissal of the priests' role. They were far from ready, but even so, most of the Circle City had heard of the remarkable child d.u.c.h.ess Escral had adopted, the miracles he had performed.

And what better way to persuade a man, thought Ilumene, looking down at the slight figure beside him whose eyes were swirling with shadows, than to give him what he hopes for in his heart. than to give him what he hopes for in his heart.

His gaze moved to Knight-Cardinal Certinse, presently exchanging angry words with his own spiritual advisor.

You're not a man to care why you have been given everything you asked for, are you, Certinse? You a.s.sume you'll be able to kill us when Ruhen has served his purpose. Ilumene smiled and ran his fingertips over the hilt of his own dagger. Good luck with that. When you do, that's when you'll start to notice the shadows moving out of the corner of your eye. Good luck with that. When you do, that's when you'll start to notice the shadows moving out of the corner of your eye.

A few minutes later, Ruhen started off towards the bickering men and women. Ilumene kept back a while before following. He was there as a devoted servant of the child, nothing more. Ruhen had to look vulnerable, without guidance; his hypnotic eyes would do the rest.

'Tribute?' roared the general from Raland, 'what new insult is this? There was no mention of such a thing an hour ago!'

'An hour ago you were declaring yourselves ready to fight to the last man,' Duke Vrill retorted with a pinched expression, 'with the great dragon of your Order threatening to reach out with its claws and strike us all down.'

More than a few couldn't help but glance at the rotting corpse of the dragon Lord Styrax had killed. The body had been butchered, its claws and teeth taken by Menin soldiers as trophies, but a large enough chunk remained rotting in the sun.

'So much anger,' Ruhen said in a quiet voice. 'Where does it end?'

The general paused in his response as he noticed his presence for the first time.