‘Isn’t it quiet?’ He realised that there was no sound of the First Phagorian moving about nearby, and was suddenly alarmed.
‘I can hear something.’ Suddenly she ran to the opposite window, and screamed. ‘Jandol! Look! The palace!’
He ran to her and looked out. On the far side of Loylbryden Square, the palace was alight. The entire wooden facade was ablaze, with clouds of smoke rolling up towards the stars.
‘The quake must have caused a fire. Let’s go and see if we can help — fast, fast, my poor moth!’ Her pigeon voice shrilled.
Aghast, the two dressed and ran out. There were no phagors in the park but, as they crossed the square, they saw them.
The First Phagorian stood armed, staring at the blazing palace, guarding it. They watched without movement as the flames took ever firmer hold. Townspeople stood at a distance, gazing helplessly, kept at bay by the phagors.
JandolAnganol went to break through the phagorian ranks, but a spear was thrust out and his way barred. Phagor-Major Ghht Mlark Chzarn saluted her leader and spoke.
‘You may not make a coming to more nearness, sir, because danger. We have made a bringing of flames to all Sons of Freyr in that church-place below the ground. Knowledge reaches our harneys that the evil king and the church-king would bring killing to your all servants of this Guard.’
‘You had no orders.’ He could scarcely speak. ‘You’ve slain Akhanaba — the god made in your image.’
The creature before him with its deep scarlet eyes brought a three-fingered hand to its skull. ‘Orders have formed in our harneys. Make arrival from long time. Once, this place izz ancient Hrrm-Bhhrd Ydohk… Further sayance…’
‘You’ve slain the C’Sarr, Akhanaba… everything… everything…’ He could scarcely hear what the ancipital was saying, for Milua Tal was holding his hand and screaming at the top of her voice, ‘My moth, my moth, my poor mother!’
‘Hmn-Bhhrd Ydohk once ancient place of ancipital kind. Not give to Sons of Freyr.’
He failed to understand. He pushed against her spear, then drew his own sword. ‘Let me through, Major Chzarn, or I shall kill you.’
He knew how useless threats were. Chzarn merely said, without emotion, ‘Not go through, sir,’
‘You’re the fire god, Jan — command it die!’ As she parrot-screamed, she raked his flesh, but he did not move. Chzarn was intent on explaining something and wrestled with words before managing to say, ‘Ancient Hrrm-Bhhrd Ydohk good place, sir. Air-octaves make a song. Before Sons of Freyr any on Hrl-Ichor Yhar. In ancient time of T’Sehn-Hrr.’
‘It’s the present, the present! We live and die in present time, gillot!’ He tried to wind himself up to strike but was unable to do so, despite the screaming girl at his side. His will failed. The flames burned in the pupils of his narrowed eyes.
The phagor obstinately continued her explanation, as if she were an automaton.
‘Ancipitals here, sir, before Sons of Freyr. Before Freyr make bad light. Before T’Sehn-Hrr goance, sir. Old sins, sir.’
Or perhaps she just said ‘old things’. In the fury of the blaze, it was impossible to hear. With a roar, part of the palace roof collapsed and a column of fire rolled up into the night sky. Pillars crashed forward into the square.
The crowd cried in unison and stumbled back. Among the watchers was AbathVasidol; she clung to the arm of a gentleman from the Sibornalese embassy as everyone shrank from the heat.
‘The Holy C’Sarr… all destroyed,’ cried JandolAnganol in pain. Milua Tal hid her face in JandolAnganol’s side and wept. ‘All destroyed… all destroyed.’
He made no attempt to comfort the girl or to push her away. She was nothing to him. The flames devoured his spirit. In that holocaust were consumed his ambitions — the very ambitions the fire would fulfil. He could be master of Oldorando as well as Borlien, but in that ceaseless changing of things into their opposites, that chastising enantiodromia which made a god into a phagor, he no longer wished for that mastery.
His phagors had brought him a triumph, in which he saw clearly his defeat. His thoughts flew to MyrdemInggala: but his and her summer was over, and this great bonfire of his enemies was his autumn beacon.
‘All destroyed,’ he said aloud.
But a figure approached them, moving elegantly through the ranks of the First Phagorian, arriving almost at a saunter in time to remark, ‘Not quite all, I’m glad to say.’
Despite his attempt at customary nonchalance, Esomberr’s face was pale and he trembled visibly.
‘Since I’ve never worshipped the All-Powerful with any great degree of fervour, whether he’s man or phagor, I thought I would excuse myself from the C’Sarr’s lecture on the subject. Terribly fortunate as it proved. Let this be a lesson to you, Your Majesty, to go to church less frequently in future.’
Milua Tal looked up angrily to say, ‘Why don’t you run away? Both my parents are in there.’
Esomberr wagged a finger at her. ‘You must learn to ride with circumstances as your new husband claims to do. If your parents are perished — and there I suspect you have hit upon a profound truth — then may I be the first to congratulate you on becoming Queen of both Borlien and Oldorando.
‘I hope for some advancement from you, as the chief instrument in your clandestine marriage. I may never make C’Sarr, but you both know my council is good. I’m cheerful, even in times of adversity like the present.’
JandolAnganol shook his head. He took Milua Tal by the shoulders and began to coax her away from the conflagration.
‘We can do nothing. Slaying a phagor or two will solve nothing. We will wait for morning. In Esomberr’s cynicism there is some truth.’
‘Cynicism?’ asked Esomberr quietly. ‘Are not your brutes merely imitating what you did to the Myrdolators? Is there no cynicism in your taking advantage of that? Your brutes have crowned you King of Oldorando.’
Written in the king’s face was something Esomberr could not bear to see. ‘If the entire court is wiped out, then what is there for me but to stay, to do my duty, to see that the succession is legally continued in Milua Tal’s name? Will I find joy in that task, Esomberr?’
‘You will go with the circumstances, I expect. As I would. What’s joy?’
They walked on, the princess shambling and needing support.
At length the king said, ‘Otherwise there will be anarchy — or Pannoval will step in. Whether it calls for rejoicing or weeping, it seems that we do indeed have a chance to make our two kingdoms one, strong against enemies.’
‘Always enemies!’ wailed Milua Tal to her failed god.
JandolAnganol turned to Esomberr, his expression one of blank disbelief. ‘The C’Sarr himself will have perished. The C’Sarr…’
‘Failing divine intervention, yes. But one piece of better news for you. King Sayren Stund may not go down in history as its wisest monarch, but he experienced a generous impulse before he perished. He was probably prompted by your new queen’s mother. His majesty could not quite stomach hanging his new son-in-law’s son, and had him released an hour or so ago. Perhaps as a sort of wedding gift…’
‘He released Robayday?’ His frown left him momentarily.
Another section of the palace collapsed. The tall wooden columns burned like candles. More and more of the inhabitants of Oldorando crept forth silently to stare at the blaze, knowing they would never look on such a night again. Many, in their superstitious hearts, saw this as the long-prophesied end of the world.
‘I saw the lad go free. Wild as ever. Wilder. An arrow from a bow would be a fair comparison.’
A groan escaped JandolAnganol’s lips. ‘Poor boy, why did he not come to me? I hoped that at last he had lost his hatred of me…’