A trace of the same feeling came back to her as she looked down, but this time no peaceful layer of snow softened the view. The plain crawled with humanity as far as the eye could see, even as far away as the small village of Kordale, whose smoking chimneys R'shiel could just make out in the distance. From this high up it was impossible to make out individual details, rather the ground below rippled like some strange, poisonous ocean that lapped at the walls of the Citadel.
“Are you all right?” Brak asked with concern.
“Why wouldn't I be?”
He did not answer for a moment. He was sitting with his back to the wall with his booted feet stretched out in front of him on the ledge, cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his dagger. Scattered clouds left over from the rain during the night hung motionlessly in a sky tinted the colour of washed-out blood.
“If you happen to find Loclon, just be careful, will you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if you're planning to use your power to restrain him, try to do it as quickly as possible. You'll be drawing on the same power as Korandellan. He'll have to fight you for his share of it.”
Brak did not need to add that if she drew too much, Korandellan's ability to hold Sanctuary safely out of time would be compromised. She had seen his weary face in the Seeing Stone in Greenharbour. R'shiel knew how close to exhaustion he was.
“You make it sound as if I actually have control over it.” She closed her eyes, letting the chill air clear her mind then looked down from the wall-walk over the mass of humanity swarming to be let out of the Citadel. “This is hopeless!”
“You knew that before you came here,” Brak pointed out.
“Aren't you going to help?”
“What do you want me to do?”
She muttered something unintelligible and looked back over the crowd. The Defenders were pushing the people back to clear a path for the gates to open. On the other side of the wall, the plain was littered with the Karien army. There was a sizeable gathering outside the gate, waiting for their comrades inside the Citadel to be released.
A truce had been arranged the previous day, although with their leaders now hostages in the Citadel, it had taken some time to sort out the Karien chain of command and find someone capable of making a decision. The wall-walk was lined with archers to discourage the Kariens from attempting to break the truce. The Defenders could not hope to fend off a well co-ordinated attack, but they were enough to deter the disorganised and bewildered Kariens from trying anything stupid. They seemed incapable of understanding that the Citadel was lost to them, or that their leaders had been taken prisoner. The Overlord would not allow such a thing.
“Isn't there something magic we can do?” she asked, turning her back to the Kariens.
He raised a brow at her. “Something magic?”
“You know what I mean.”
Brak sighed with long-suffering patience. “You still have no idea what you're dealing with, do you?”
“I don't want a lecture, Brak. I just want to know if there is anything we can do to find Loclon more easily.”
“You could make every person leaving tell the truth then ask their names as they pass through the gate,” he suggested.
“That won't work. Tarja won't let us stop them.” She was scanning the crowd and did not see Brak's smile.
“I was joking, R'shiel.”
“I'm beside myself with mirth. Do you have any other brilliant suggestions?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Brak sheathed his dagger then climbed to his feet and came to stand beside her. The gates swung open ponderously as the Defenders shouted orders to the crowd. The first to leave were the troopers that had been posted around the city, and they made up the bulk of the occupation force. They looked cold and miserable, having spent a night in the damp weather confined to the amphitheatre. Most of them were simple peasants dragged into this war because their masters owed a fealty to the Karien King. They were at the mercy of their god, their King and their dukes.
“They don't look very happy, do they?” Brak remarked.
“Can you blame them?”
“You're not feeling sorry for them, are you?”
“A little bit. Most of them would much rather be at home getting ready for the spring planting, I think. Not stranded here in a foreign country fighting a war they probably don't even understand.”
“Well, if you think the peasants are unhappy, imagine what that lot must be feeling.” Brak pointed up the street.
The next group waiting to be let through was the knights. Tarja had permitted them their mounts, but other than that, they were leaving empty handed. Their faces were cold and haughty, as if they were leaving of their own free will, not being forced out like beggars who couldn't pay the rent. Sir Andony sat at the head of the small column. R'shiel could not make out the others from this height. She watched them curiously, wondering what they were thinking. Were they plotting revenge? Were they already planning to return?
“My Lady! My Lady R'shiel!”
R'shiel glanced down at the street and discovered an urchin waving up at her. She did not know the child, but he was panting heavily, as if he had run all the way to the gate.
“What is it?” she called.
“That man you're looking for? The one with the scars? I saw him!”
“Wait here!” she told Brak, heading for the stairs that led down into the gatehouse at a run. When she reached the street, she had to push through the crowd to find the child. The boy was waiting for her by the gatehouse wall. He had the most beautiful face R'shiel had ever seen on a child.
“Who are you? Where did you see Loclon?” she demanded.
“My name is Alladan. I work for Mistress Heaner.”
“Who is Mistress Heaner?”
“She's... she's... my employer,” the boy said, a little uncertainly. “But I saw the man you're looking for. He was at Mistress Heaner's last night.”
“Is he still there?”
Alladan nodded. “I think so. Did you want me to show you?”
She glanced up at the wall-walk where Brak was looking down at her and debated calling him. Although she was certain he was telling the truth, the child might be wrong, and she could not risk letting Loclon slip past her. She waved reassuringly to Brak then turned back to Alladan.
“Show me.”
As she pushed through the crowd behind the boy, she faintly heard Brak calling her back, but she ignored him. The idea that she might have found Loclon consumed her, swamping caution and common sense. They broke through the crowd after a great deal of pushing and shoving, turning towards the warehouse district. The boy ran ahead, looking back over his shoulder occasionally to ensure that she was still with him.
When the boy finally reached his destination, it proved to be a narrow gate with a small hatchway at eye level, jammed between two dilapidated warehouses. He stopped and waited for her to catch up and then jerked his head in the direction of the door.