Damn, now that I’ve got it, how do I use it? Garth wondered, even as the blow hit him.
He felt fire racing over him, a heat as intense as the sun engulfing him. Garth One-eye pulled his strength inward and focused it on the power of the gate. The Walker, screaming hysterically, attacked yet again and Garth felt himself falling away.
“Massacre them all,” Zarel growled, looking down angrily at Uriah. “Any who do not stand with me now are against me.”
“All the Houses?”
“All of them. If we give them time to organize, they might ally with the mob against me. I want this finished. You heard the Walker as well. He said he’ll be back.”
“And what will he say of this massacre?”
Zarel looked coldly at the dwarf.
I won’t be here so it won’t matter, he thought with a grin of satisfaction. With the mana taken and the capture of Kirlen’s books, the path will be open.
“Have our fighters and warriors prepare to sally forth at the midnight bell.”
“Against all four Houses, sire? They still have, even after the desertions and deaths in the arena, well over two hundred and fifty fighters to our two hundred.”
Zarel cursed and looked down at the gold inlay in his floor. Kirlen could not be bribed except with power and, besides, she was the first and most important target. Tulan and Varnel-their hatred evident-could not be swayed. But Jimak, Jimak could always be swayed for the moment and then eliminated later.
“Empty the coffers of gold as a bribe. Send it over to Jimak at once in return for his pledge to stand by my side.”
“And what will you tell the Walker if you destroy them?”
“Tell him, I’ll pile mana taken from the dead around his feet. That will buy him off. When it is finished you can rebuild a new House of your own.”
Uriah nodded and slowly withdrew.
Zarel watched him leave.
“And your turn will come as well,” he whispered.
Zarel turned away from the door, his heart racing.
How much time do I have? he wondered. And still, what is One-eye’s game in all of this? Can it be that all along he was out after Kuthuman and that even now he is struggling to throw him down? If so, then so much the better. Kuthuman will be delayed in his return and I’ll be gone. If it is the other way around, that Kuthuman has been vanquished, then One-eye will be weak and easy to overthrow as well. The first step, however, is to make sure Kirlen is finished and her precious scrolls and books taken.
Kirlen of Bolk sat hunched over upon her throne.
“Have you found Naru?”
The messenger shook his head.
“He’s deserted, along with eleven other fighters.”
She cursed angrily and spit on the throne-room floor.
“Send messengers to the other three Houses. Zarel has subdued the mob for the moment. It is obvious he now plans to move against us as well. We can either stand united at this moment or we will all die separately. I plan to attack at the midnight bell. Tell them to do the same and we can defeat him. Get their assurances that they will do so, and ask them to strike straight for the palace. Now go!”
The messenger ran out of the room.
Kirlen smiled softly.
One-eye had played his part well. The mob had attacked Zarel and he had slaughtered them without mercy so that they were forced to break and flee. But he did not follow up, he could not, for he had to conserve his remaining strength to use against the Houses. Only a fool would think that the Houses would not strike now to cast him down and take his mana for themselves. She knew him well enough to know that he now feared the Houses as a possible counter to him, or worse yet, the Houses would ally with the rabble to bring him down. The balance was broken and could not be restored-too much hatred now brewed on all sides.
Now was the time to strike at Zarel, and by leading the way she would be the next Grand Master, presenting the Walker with fait accompli upon his return.
Or perhaps, even better, she thought, I can challenge him beyond the veil and gain the vengeance I deserve.
She thought of Garth, who so unknowingly had created this opportunity for her. He had done his service well. All the hatreds of all sides, which had been contained for so long, had finally boiled to the surface thanks to him. Let all the corruption boil out now, she thought with a cold glee.
But why would he go so willingly into the Walker’s grasp? she suddenly wondered. He could only have done so if there was a plan. It was obvious, she realized. He had from the beginning planned to challenge the Walker, somehow defeat him, and become one in his own right. If that was the case, he would be weak after the struggle and the chance of breaking through was even more possible now.
The opportunity was now and she stood up, calling for her fighters to prepare.
Tulan of Kestha and Varnel of Fentesk stood in the shadows, looking out anxiously across the Plaza.
“That old crone does have a point,” Tulan said eagerly. “He plans to finish us now. This balance of power game has gone on too long. Either we kill him or he kills us.”
“Perhaps we can win in either case,” Varnel said calmly. “She will attack. This is not a trick to lure us out with her holding back. Her passion for power has consumed her. And besides, she is right, you know. Our best fighters died in the arena these last three days. If ever there is a moment when he can defeat us all, it is now.”
“And yet,” Tulan said silkily.
“And yet, suppose they are equally balanced in the struggle? All we need do is let them wear each other down. Perhaps if we attacked, and at least demonstrated our intent, she would press onward. But we hold back and let them bleed themselves against each other. Then, when the moment is right, we slaughter all of them together.”
“And what of Jimak?”
“And what of him? We know he covets the gold that Zarel holds in his coffers. He will attack with a passion and bleed himself dry in the process. Let him.”
Varnel smiled.
“And as for what we might want,” Tulan sighed. “The women of Zarel will be yours, all of them in their multitude of colors, shapes, scents, and perverse practices.”
Varnel licked his lips eagerly.
“And when we are done we can also hunt down those of our fighters who betrayed us and went over to the mob,” Varnel said coldly.
Jimak of Ingkara sat alone in his counting room, gazing down at the mountain of gold spread before his throne. The strongboxes had been carted over to him but moments ago, in payment for his pledge to fight by Zarel’s side. He chuckled at the thought. Certainly he would fight, and when the other Houses were done and looted, then it would be Zarel’s turn as well.
Hammen peeked out from behind the broken shutter. The midnight bell tolled with its deep, melancholy tone. The Plaza was silent, illuminated with flickering fires that still shuddered from the battles with the mob that had raged throughout the afternoon and into the early evening.
He looked back at a deserter from Kestha, who had come over to the side of the mob with the information that the Houses were planning to assault the palace at midnight.
“Nothing.”
Even as he said the word a brilliant flash arced up into the sky. Flickering and hissing, it detonated over the Plaza, illuminating it with a harsh white light. Trumpets blared from the pyramid-shaped palace and from the five great doors an armed host came charging out, warriors at the fore with crossbows ready, followed by mobile catapults mounted on wagons, and finally the fighters.
They charged across the Plaza and from out of the gates of the Houses of the four colors fighters emerged as well. Hammen, chortling with glee, pulled the shutter wide open and leaned out to watch, joined by Naru, Norreen, and the lieutenants of his brotherhood, who had struggled to gain some semblance of fighting control over the mob.