‘You’ve put me in charge of the muscle and mayhem. And I say we need more men.’
‘You’ve got all you’re going to get on the payroll of the new Ynissul, Garan. You need to manage your losses better. You forget that any reinforcements are on Balaia. That’s a lot of days of delay. Thirty at least.’
‘And you forget that having managed to get rid of your every elven warrior, you’re very much alone right now.’ Garan’s smile was unpleasant. ‘Aren’t you?’ ‘It’s like the tidal wave that hit Tolt Anoor. You can feel it. You might even be able to hear it. Building and building. And there’s nothing you can do about it. The sea has been sucked away from your feet and the wall is about to crash down. That moment of peace and silence. That’s now, isn’t it?’
Katyett raised her eyebrows. Merrat had put her finger on it. The bizarre atmosphere of peace in Ysundeneth. It had descended after the break-up of the mob at the temple piazza and had left the nighttime streets deserted. Haunted only by chanting and shouting.
The news of the deaths of Lorius and Jarinn had spread to every quarter of the city. Messenger birds had been thick in the sky. Dawn had brought crowds to the Gardaryn, the temple piazza and the Hausolis Playhouse. People wanting answers or a place to pour out their grief or anger. Al-Arynaar, the three hundred or so who had turned up for duty, were guarding the key establishments and patrolling as heavily as numbers allowed. Pelyn was visiting those whose consciences troubled them and more would join the ranks as the day progressed.
What struck Katyett was the veneer of normality. The fishing fleets had sailed. Ships were loading and unloading. All the markets were open and visited by members of every thread without apparent animosity. But behind the smiles the eyes gave away the truth.
‘Just keep watching,’ said Katyett. ‘Somewhere, it’ll happen. We need to be ready to move.’ Trade was feverish. Gerial should have been happy, but every time he looked down at his credit sheets and coin purse he wondered if it was all about to be rendered pointless. Beneath his stall stacked with fresh fruits and vegetables was his machete. He couldn’t raise any shame about bringing it out today.
The central market was heaving. A hundred stalls carrying every type of produce available in Ysundeneth. Two hours into the morning session and some were already running short of stock. It was curious. He didn’t see anyone actually panicking but everyone he served from regulars to the occasional was buying that bit more. Preparing for tomorrow, whatever it looked like.
‘Father?’
Gerial turned. Nillis and his idiot friend Ulakan were breasting though the crowd, shouting, bargaining, arm-waving and pointing. Tall proud Tualis, the pair of them, but Ulakan was trouble. Never happy with his lot. Jealous of the Ynissul grasp on immortality. He’d been at the temples yesterday. Nillis, thankfully, had stayed away. The difference in their expressions this morning could not have been more stark.
Nillis, anxious but hopeful. Ulakan, angry and disdainful. Gerial watched him push others aside as he came, Gyalans and Beethans shoved from his path. Gerial hadn’t seen an Ynissul in the market bar a cell of TaiGethen a little earlier on. He cleared his throat.
‘Ulakan, those people are my customers,’ said Gerial.
‘You shouldn’t be serving them,’ muttered Ulakan.
Gerial felt his face flush. ‘Really? Fancy a mango?’
Gerial held out a fruit. Ulakan reached out his hand, a smirk on his face.
‘Tuali food for-’ he began.
‘Tended by Gyalans, harvested by Apposans and set on this stall by Ixii,’ said Gerial. ‘Still want it? You’re an idiot. Get away from my stall. Nillis, I need you. What did you want anyway?’
Nillis looked briefly at Ulakan, who was staring at Gerial like a slighted child.
‘You’re being undercut by Heol and old Jasif. You should see the crowds at their stalls.’
‘Then they’re as stupid as your friend, aren’t they? Why would you cut your prices on a day as packed as this?’
‘They can feel what’s coming,’ said Ulakan. ‘So they want to sell and get out. Perhaps it’s you that’s being stupid.’
Gerial shook his head. ‘Take your mouth and get away from my stall. You’re no longer welcome here or in my home.’
‘But-’ began Ulakan, gesturing at Nillis.
‘Then use your brain before you open your mouth. We don’t need your views. Tualis moved on a long time ago. About time you caught up.’
Ulakan made to say something else but thought better of it. Gerial watched him turn. An ula looking in another direction collided with him, bouncing off his strong frame.
‘Sorry, my friend.’
‘I’m not your friend, little-life,’ snapped Ulakan, shoving him hard in the chest.
The Gyalan stumbled back off balance and half fell into the back of a group of others buying at a fresh meat stall. Gerial shouted a warning, but in the bustling crowd no one could hear him. One of the buyers sprawled into the display of meat. Trays clattered and fell. The stall shook and a leg cracked. Meat slithered onto the ground.
The group of buyers turned. The stallholder – Kithal, a big, burly Apposan farmer – ran around to try and save his produce. Ulakan was laughing. The Gyalan straightened. The buyers around him grabbed him but he shook them off. He ran straight at Ulakan and threw a punch. Ulakan dodged it and slammed his own fist into the ula’s stomach, another into his face.
‘Gyalan scum!’
Elves turned. Gerial ran from behind his stall.
‘Calm down,’ he said, gesturing with his hands. ‘Ulakan, shut your stupid mouth.’
Gerial stooped to help the Gyalan up. The ula nodded his thanks.
‘What are you doing?’ Ulakan was beginning to shout, losing his temper. ‘He’s not one of us.’
Gerial turned on him. ‘It’s you who isn’t one of us. Nillis, get him out of here.’
A fist struck out, taking Nillis on the side of the head. Gerial swore and spun round again. There were people everywhere closing in, or so it seemed. Nillis was sprawled on the ground. Ulakan was bending to help him.
‘What did he do?’ shouted Gerial. ‘Stop this. Now.’
One of the buyers at Kithal’s stall pushed Gerial back.
‘No one laughs at me,’ he said.
‘No one was. One idiot child,’ said Gerial. ‘Calm yourself.’
‘Ordering me, are you? Tuali orders Beethan, is that it?’
The Beethan cocked a fist only to have his wrist grabbed by Kithal.
‘That ula is my friend,’ said Kithal. ‘As are you.’
‘Get your hand off me.’
The Beethan’s friends jumped on Kithal, bearing him to the ground. Gerial shouted for them to stop. The Beethan punched Gerial’s face. Gerial’s head spun and he fell to his knees. He felt hands around him.
‘Gerial, are you all right?’ Ulakan. Gerial nodded. ‘You may hate me but I’ll fight for you. For all Tualis.’
‘No,’ managed Gerial, spitting out a mouthful of blood. ‘Leave it.’
But Ulakan was already gone. There was a knife in his hands. Gerial watched him, his heart aching. He felt groggy. Nillis was by his side.
‘I’m all right,’ said Gerial. ‘Stop him. Ulakan.’
Ulakan jumped on the back of the Gyalan ula. Gerial saw the knife flash. The Gyalan collapsed. Blood pooled on the cobbles. Kithal’s stall was upturned. The farmer roared fury. His fists flew in a flurry. Gerial saw a head snap back. A Beethan slammed a meat tray into the back of Kithal’s head. The farmer slumped forward.
Gerial saw red. Katyett watched the riot spread across the marketplace like a rainstorm across the harbour. She watched the Al-Arynaar try and fail to restore order. She saw murder, looting and destruction. She saw her people begin to split and bunch. Ordinary elves this time. She saw her race begin to fracture.
‘The wall has fallen,’ she said. ‘Come on. Time to act.’ Night in Ysundeneth and the city was on fire.