Katyett had set up a makeshift centre of operations on the roof of the Hausolis Playhouse. It gave her views to all corners of the compass. It was also one of the few flat roofs in the city. It had a gentle camber to channel away rain without upsetting the acoustics of the auditorium.
Riots had blitzed the docks as the sun set. Several coastal merchant ships had been burned at their moorings. Dockside businesses had been wrecked, warehousing looted or destroyed. Ynissul ships, businesses and warehouses. Elves had been chased from their homes moments before the oil and torches fell. Ynissul elves. There had been no killing but it was only a matter of time.
Katyett had put out the word to the TaiGethen remaining in the city of where she was stationed. Tables had been set up and pinned to them were hastily drawn sketches of the city. On each were placed stones representing known flashpoints and the current positions of Al-Arynaar forces, and charcoal marks where any significant destruction had taken place.
‘Grafyrre, what’s the-’ In quick succession, three TaiGethen vaulted onto the roof. ‘Yniss preserve us, it doesn’t get any quieter, does it? What have you got for me?’
‘Significant move towards the spice market. They might be heading here,’ said one.
‘How many?’
Katyett trotted to the south edge and could see bobbing torches.
‘Two hundred at least.’
Grafyrre blew out his cheeks. Katyett looked at the other two.
‘What have you got?’
‘There’s a very big blaze about to be set in the Takaar Gardens. Predictable but it stinks of a diversion to me.’
‘All right. Well, it keeps them away from the buildings, I suppose. Al-Arynaar watching them?’
‘A good number. Not doing a lot to stop them, mind you.’
‘Damn it, Pelyn, where are you?’ Katyett rubbed a hand over her face. ‘And you?’
The third TaiGethen spread his hands. ‘It’s more a feeling than fact. A general movement back towards the temple piazza. Small groups here and there.’
‘Trying not to attract attention? Tual’s balls, who is orchestrating this?’ Katyett looked again at the crowd approaching the spice market. They were moving quickly and there were others joining them, the whole spreading out. ‘Graf, what’s happening your side?’
‘Got a lot of torches. Heading this way, I think.’
‘They mean to surround us,’ said Katyett. ‘Something’s going to happen at the temples. Who’s up there?’
‘A good number of Al-Arynaar, a lot of Ynissul inside our temple. I presume the priests and healers have all stayed put except the ones tending Olmaat downstairs,’ said Grafyrre. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. It just feels bad. We need to get the TaiGethen to the piazza. All of them.’ Katyett stared at her hands. They were trembling very slightly. She shuddered and circled her shoulders, trying to relieve sudden tension. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’
The faces of eight TaiGethen were turned to her.
‘You want us to leave the command post?’ asked Merrat. ‘What about Olmaat and the healers?’
‘When we’re done at the temple I want us to leave the city altogether. Olmaat is safe enough. They will not enter the playhouse. They fear what happened here. Tais, we move.’
Katyett led them. She headed for a corner of the roof, swung out and climbed down to the arch above the doorway faster than most could descend a ladder. With a quick glance towards the approaching torches, she jumped the last twenty feet, landing silently and running away towards the piazza, meaning to enter it at the northern end by the temple of Shorth.
Down at street level, Katyett felt blind. She had the eight with her and there were three other cells in the city monitoring trouble. A young TaiGethen came up to her left shoulder.
‘I’ve got the best route to the piazza,’ she said. ‘We can avoid the mobs and come in between Shorth and Gyal, up the stairs by the western sunken gardens.’
‘Thank you, Faleen, lead on. Merrat, Graf, I need you to trace the other cells. Bring them to the piazza as soon as you can.’
‘Consider it done.’
Katyett’s cell split left and right, sprinting away into the night. She followed Faleen, who darted down a tight alleyway that led south and east between houses and the walls of the Gardens of Appos. She felt more comfortable here. Temporarily, the noise of violence was muted and the high walls leaned in like a blessing from Cefu.
The alley led out onto a quiet street, cobbled and with small businesses and low, domed housing on either side. There were a few lights but most places were dark and silent. Ordinary elves were hiding indoors, frightened and anxious about what was happening in their city, to their way of life.
Here in streets like this was where the anger at what had consumed the city settled most deeply on Katyett. Ula and iad, young and old, parent and child. Every thread would be represented behind the closed doors and shuttered windows. Scant hours before, they had been going about their normal lives. Secure in the knowledge that Yniss blessed their every step and the harmony was with them, unbreakable. The silent, invisible security blanket that wrapped them all.
And then the denouncement had happened, and those who had determined it to be the moment the world of the elves returned to the days before the War of Bloods held sway in the city. Those who had organised the murder of Jarinn and Lorius had ensured the blood of all threads would be spilled.
Katyett had no idea if there was a way out for the innocents she passed by with her brothers and sisters. She had no idea if the harmony would survive this onslaught, and she couldn’t understand why any elf would want to rip it apart. Katyett could recall all too clearly the atrocities of the War of Bloods. They were at the root of her nervousness now. She could still feel the tears.
A TaiGethen warrior ran into the street from the left, sprinting hard, sliding to a stop when he saw them.
‘Yniss bless us, we may just be in time,’ he said.
‘Pakiir. Run with us,’ said Katyett. ‘Tell me.’
‘They’re coming from all over. Crowding the temple piazza. Al-Arynaar are trying to hold them but they are too few. They mean to burn the temple of Yniss.’
Katyett’s body went cold.
‘Not again,’ she whispered. ‘Tais, run. Run hard.’
The sky towards the piazza was glowing with torchlight. Katyett ran alongside Faleen. The nearer they got the worse Katyett felt. They could hear the noise of the mob. She could almost taste the intent. A chant started. A line of the ancient tongue.
Chilmatta nun kerene.
Immortals die screaming.
She swore and pushed yet harder, forging ahead of Faleen. Still two hundred yards and more, and she could hear fighting. The clash of weapons. Screams of pain above the roar of the mob. An intensification of the mood. Blood was flowing. Elves were dying.
‘Up to the roof of Shorth,’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘Let’s see what we’re up against.’
Pakiir was going to be proved wrong. They were not going to get there in time. Katyett heard a roar of triumph that could only mean the defence was broken. Immediately after, there was a whooshing sound and the stink of burning oil filled the air. The roar intensified.
Katyett tore around the back of Shorth’s Temple, pounded through the sunken garden with the yelling of the mob all around her, above her and ahead of her. She led the TaiGethen up the side of the temple, using the thick liana that grew there. She ran along the arm and down the body, pulling up at the temple’s edge and looking down on mass murder.
Rioters surrounded Yniss. Doorways and windows had been blocked by heavy drums and upturned wagons. Oil rained down on the building and torches were flicking into the fuel in their hundreds. The temple had caught with a ferocity that surprised even the rioters. Katyett could see those within the temple trying to beat their way out but the barricading was horribly effective. It rocked but did not fall.