The southern end of South Pier covered, attention returned to the northern end up to the warehouses at North Pier. Sasha had no illusions as to why Kessligh had assigned her the southern half-it was surely the easier half to defend. Further north was the Corkscrew, a major road up the slope just like Maerler's Way, and down it had come more chanting rioters than anyone had dared guess. There was no old keep guarding the mouth of Corkscrew, the Corkscrew being a much younger road, built after the age of Ameryn Lords. Instead, there was the largest barricade Dockside's residents could possibly erect, and the better part of five hundred fighters equipped with all the real and makeshift shields and armour available.
North and south of the Corkscrew, the many lanes and alleys leading from the slope to the dock had likewise been barricaded. They'd recently been probed by a wide and apparently ineffective wave of attacks. Most troubling of all, the North Pier warehouses were heavily guarded by very well-armed and armoured soldiers from all the major North Petrodor houses.
“If those decide to join the rioters and move on us, we're dead,” Sasha observed.
“Aye,” Kessligh agreed, “but then who will defend the warehouses from the rioters? These are mostly poor folk from Riverside and those warehouses are crammed with the richest trade in Torovan. Which of the families would leave their treasures unguarded now?”
“If this lot sweeps us off the docks,” another man added, with a jab of his finger toward the slope, “the next thing they'd do is not only raid the warehouses, but grab our damn boats and head out to the ships at anchor. Lots of rich pickings there.”
Kessligh nodded. “Patachi Steiner would love to be rid of the Nasi-Keth, but he's not such a fool to think that this is the way to do it. He knows the balance in Petrodor better than most, he knows his own house would suffer. The patachis exercise power in the most controlled and, to their eyes, civilised manner possible. One assassinates one or two opponents to make a point. One doesn't invite crazed mobs to lay waste to half the city. I'm sure he's horrified.”
“How nice of him,” Sasha said drily.
“What matters,” Kessligh emphasised, “is that our north flank is safe, thanks to them. The mobs will not get any men onto the docks past the guards defending their warehouses.”
“Still…you're keeping an eye on them?” Sasha pressed.
“Always,” Kessligh said grimly. “But we don't have the fighting strength to hold a reserve just for that eventuality.”
“Damn. No word from Gerrold?”
“We hear several of Saalshen's houses are still holding out in the south,” another Nasi-Keth said. “The last we heard, Gerrold's men were crossing the Crack. Some have taken boats and sailed around Sharptooth, hoping to evacuate survivors.”
“They're needed here,” muttered a local man. “Damn traitors.”
“Gerrold and his followers have made their choice,” Kessligh told them. “Their loyalties have always lain with Saalshen.”
“Not all of them,” said Sasha. “I met quite a few of Gerrold's former followers out at the barricades. A lot have not followed him.” Nor Alaine, she did not need to add.
“Yuan Kessligh!” came an urgent call from behind. All turned to look, and Sasha saw the Nasi-Keth girl from below, breathing hard and a little frantic. “Up the stairs behind me! There's…well, there's…”
A figure emerged from the shadow of the doorway behind. Several men half-drew their swords, then paused in relief as it became clear that the figure, and the one behind, were serrin. Sasha saw the gleaming white hair, and the green eyes, and her heart leapt for joy. She took two steps forward, thinking to rush and embrace her friend, but something made her stop.
Rhillian's face was taut and hard. Her hair was a most uncharacteristic mess, only half of her customary braid remained, the rest matted and tangled from rain, ash and blood. Her clothes were bloody in places. The man behind her was Kiel, and his condition was similar, save that he limped on an injured leg.
“Yuan Kessligh,” said Rhillian. Her voice was hoarse, almost unrecognisable. She coughed heavily, clearing her throat. To Sasha's distress, Rhillian did not spare her even a glance. Her emerald stare fixed entirely on Kessligh. There was nothing of warmth or humour in those eyes. Nothing, indeed, of humanity. They burned with the fire of some strange and dangerous animal, hunting its prey from the shadows. “Palopy is fallen.”
“One hears,” said Kessligh. “I'm sorry.”
“Have there been other serrin survivors come to Dockside?”
“Several. From some of the smaller northern properties. Gerrold's followers brought some down.”
“How many?” Rhillian asked, tightly.
“Perhaps five last I heard. And some of your human staff. There may have been more since then.”
“Last you heard.” Upon the wind came the sound of distant chanting, growing louder. “We met several of Gerrold's supporters upon the slope. They said that you'd ordered all Nasi-Keth to stay here. Many of Gerrold's people remained behind.”
“That's correct.”
Rhillian's eyes narrowed. “We are worth that little to you?” she asked, her voice strained with new emotion.
“Dockside is worth more,” Kessligh said bluntly, folding his arms.
Rhillian swallowed hard, and stared away across the flickering lines of torchlight where Docksiders manned the many barricades between buildings. “I hear that several houses still stand south of Sharptooth,” she said with difficulty. “I ask permission to borrow some boats and sail to Angel Bay and beyond, and see if we can find some survivors escaped along the shore.”
“No,” said Kessligh. “I can't allow it. We may need those boats to manoeuvre our own forces. If a breakthrough occurs, the women have plans to load all children onto the boats and row them out to the ships, or outside the harbour entirely. If any more serrin have survived, they will have to keep to the alleys and make their way here as you did.”
“The Crack grows increasingly impassable.” Rhillian's voice was trembling. “They may be wounded, or cut off. Please. I beg you.”
“I'm sorry,” said Kessligh. The hardness of his tone shocked even Sasha. She better than anyone knew Kessligh the warrior, but she also knew the compassion that lurked beneath. She yearned to round on Kessligh and beg Rhillian's case…surely they could spare just a few boats? But she could not question Kessligh in front of others, not now.
“He planned this from the beginning,” said Kiel. His pale grey eyes were narrowed with pain. “This is the footsoldier who rose to become head of the armies of Lenayin. A master of political manoeuvres. Three great opponents he faced in his bid to secure power in Petrodor for himself-Alaine, Gerrold and Saalshen. Now, all three are removed from his path.”
“You watch your tongue,” growled one of the men by Kessligh's side.
“I'm not going to stand here and argue paranoid fantasies,” Kessligh said firmly. “I have far more important matters to attend to.”
“When I awoke this morning, there were more than two hundred talmaad in Petrodor,” said Rhillian. “And over three hundred human staff in our employ. Right now, I think those numbers combined might equal fifty. If we cannot rescue those who hold out to the south, by tomorrow morning, it shall be but a handful. The serrin of Petrodor are nearly all dead, and you cannot bring yourself to raise a finger?”
“If we lose this battle here,” Kessligh said, “then all of Dockside shall share your fate. Would all our deaths help to ease your pain, Rhillian?”
“Your defences are strong!” Rhillian shouted. “You held off their first assault easily, you will-”
“It was a probe!” Kessligh shouted back. “I can't take the risk, Rhillian!”
Rhillian stared at him. “We aren't worth anything to you,” she said, as if it were suddenly obvious. “All this talk of saving Saalshen from the great war, but all this time-”