“What about the humans?”
“The backlash would not have affected them. Not physically. Only a half-breed would be in danger.”
“Then I killed Brak,” she said dully. Her emotions were numb from exhaustion.
“Brak offered his life in exchange for yours some time ago, demon child. He did not die unwillingly.”
She stared down at Brak, unwilling, even now, to accept it. He did not deserve to die for her. “Have you come to take him?”
“That was my intention, demon child. But you sent his soul on its way without the body.”
“But you can take his body now, can't you?”
Death stared at her but did not answer. R'shiel was suddenly frightened that the answer would be one she didn't want to hear. She leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on Brak's rapidly cooling forehead, then climbed slowly to her feet and staggered past Death, falling on her knees near the cage that held Xaphista.
The trap had held. Xaphista cowered in the centre of the cage, trying to stay clear of the magically charged bars. He was whimpering. The magic of the staff heads had shielded him from the blast but his own magic had prevented him from drawing strength from the backlash when he needed it most. She had been afraid the trap would not hold. But the power that had washed over the cage was unfocused. There was no Seeing Stone to direct it, no determined will behind it. Xaphista the God was vanquished. All that remained in his place was Xaphista the demon. And he was a small and rather pathetic looking demon at that.
“I have come for this one too,” Death told her, gliding to her side. “He will cause less trouble in my keeping.”
“Just his soul,” R'shiel said, glancing up at Death. “Not the body. I don't want you getting bored one day and deciding to send him back.”
“You presume much, demon child.”
She glanced around the Hall at Brak's body and Shananara's prone form, then looked back at Death. “I've earnt it, don't you think?”
“Perhaps.”
“And you have to take Brak's body. All of him.”
“His soul has already fled, demon child.”
“You're Death. You can reunite them.”
“To what purpose?”
“Because the gods owe me that much.”
“Was there anything else?” Had she not been so exhausted, she might have detected a slight note of impatience in his tone.
“Is there any way I can get Brak back?”
“I am Death, demon child. I do not run an inn. Lives do not come and go as they please through my realm.”
Significantly, Death hadn't said no. R'shiel climbed to her feet and faced him, willing for the moment to let the matter drop. “Then can I ask you a question before you go?”
“You may.”
“How many hells are there?”
If he was surprised by her question, he gave no outward sign. “As many as there are creatures to imagine them, demon child. I do not create them. Each soul creates its own hell. Whether they suffer the afterlife or enjoy it is entirely up to them.”
“So if I want someone to suffer, how do I make sure?”
“Evil is its own reward, demon child.”
She nodded, thinking she understood what he meant. Death turned away from her and looked at Xaphista. The demon trembled under his scrutiny and then suddenly slumped against the bars. The withered grey body no longer cared about the shielded cage. Its soul was gone. Death turned then and opened his arms. R'shiel watched silently as Brak's lifeless body floated across the Hall until it was resting in Death's embrace.
Then, without another word, Death vanished, leaving R'shiel standing alone in the cavernous, empty Hall. She heard Shananara stirring and went to help the Harshini Queen, wrapped in a cocoon of numbness and grief that kept the pain at bay.
They stumbled out into bright sunlight. The Citadel was in chaos. The streets were crowded, and the sounds of shouted orders overlaid the general panic. They stood at the top of the steps, looking down over the confusion. R'shiel had her arm around Shananara, but she wasn't really certain who was holding up whom.
“You certainly know how to create a riot, cousin,” Shananara said with a wan smile.
She helped Shananara down the steps and they pushed their way against the panicked crowd towards the dormitories. R'shiel had to push them flat against the walls on several occasions as troops of mounted Defenders galloped by. The last troop to pass them stopped as their officer called a sudden halt. He flew from his saddle and ran to them. It was Tarja.
“What happened?” he demanded as R'shiel collapsed against him.
“Xaphista is dead,” she told him weakly.
Tarja looked at her in concern then waved his men forward. A lieutenant jumped down from his mount and caught Shananara before she fell.
“Get her back to the dormitories,” Tarja ordered the man holding the Queen. “Get her own people to help her. And take an escort.”
The young officer saluted with his free hand and scooped up the Harshini Queen into his arms. He lifted Shananara up into his saddle, swung up behind her, and then, waving a few of the troopers forward, pushed his way through the throng and headed back towards the dormitories. Once Shanan was safely out of harm's way, R'shiel sagged with relief. Now she only had herself to worry about.
“Can you stand?” Tarja asked.
“I think so.”
“Where's Brak?”
“He's dead.”
“I'm sorry.” Tarja sounded like he meant it, but R'shiel knew he would not grieve his death for long. Not like she would. “Let's get you out of here.”
“Is everyone all right?”
He glanced over his shoulder for a moment at the chaos in the streets and smiled. “You mean this?”
She nodded.
“Oh, yes, everyone is fine, as far as we can tell. Just after dawn there was some sort of... well, I don't know what it was, but it knocked most of the Harshini unconscious and everybody else just seemed to go berserk for a while. We're getting it under control, but it's taking time, and now the Kariens are attacking.”
“Attacking?”
“Don't worry, it's nothing serious. They're fighting amongst themselves as much as they're aiming at us, but we still have to do something to put it down. Sergeant!” A Defender hurried forward and saluted. “See that she gets back to her rooms and post a guard. I don't want anybody disturbing Lady R'shiel while she's resting, is that clear?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Tarja, I don't need —”
“Shut up, R'shiel. You can hardly stand. Sergeant, once the Lady R'shiel is in her rooms, find Mandah Rodak and send her to keep the lady company.”
“Tarja!”
Tarja grinned at her, knowing full well what his order meant. Mandah would not let her budge until she was convinced she was fully recovered. Worse than that, Mandah would insist on calling her “Divine One”. He thrust her into the arms of the waiting sergeant and ran for his horse, yelling orders as he leapt into the saddle and resumed his push to the main gate. R'shiel watched him leave with a furious snarl, but she was too tired to resist and let the Defender lift her onto his mount and take her away from the bedlam that filled the streets of the Citadel.
CHAPTER 61
The Defenders beat back the attack on the Citadel with little effort. The Kariens were too disorganised to mount a serious campaign, despite their numerical superiority. By mid-morning they had withdrawn to the other side of the Saran. A significant number withdrew even further. Desertions were decimating the ranks of the Karien army on a regular basis. Garet estimated there were less than seventy thousand left.