For a moment the prince looked as though he would launch himself at the mob and attack them single-handed, then he wheeled on the high-sergeant. “Get the priest’s head off. Elevate it on a pike so that his followers can continue to look up to him.”
The sergeant nodded and went about his grisly work with the unruffled dexterity of a pork butcher, and within a minute Balountar’s head had been raised on a pikestaff which was then lashed to a gatepost. Rivulets of blood spead swiftly down the staff.
There was a long moment of utter silence — a silence which burrowed into the ears — and it seemed that an impasse had been reached. Then it gradually became apparent to those watching from within the base that the situation was not truly static — the semi-circle of ground visible beyond the gate was slowly shrinking. Those on the edge of the mass of human beings appeared not to be moving their feet, but they were advancing nonetheless, like ranks of statues which were being inched forward by an inexorable pressure from behind. Evidence of the tremendous force being exerted came when a fence post to the right of the gate creaked and began to lean in wards.
“Close the gate,” Colonel Hippern shouted.
“Leave the gate!” Leddravohr faced the colonel. “The army does not cower away from a civilian rabble. Order your men to clear the entire area.”
Hippern swallowed, showing his unease, but he met Leddravohr’s gaze directly. “Thesituation is difficult, Prince. This is a local regiment, mostly drawn from Ro-Atabri itself, and the men won’t take to the idea of going against their own.”
“Do I hear you properly, colonel?” Leddravohr altered his grip on his sword and a worm of white light coiled in his eyes. “Since when have common soldiers become arbiters in the affairs of Kolcorron?”
Hippern s throat worked again, but his courage did not desert him. “Since they became hungry, Prince. It was ever the way.”
Unexpectedly, Leddravohr smiled. “That’s your professional judgment, is it, colonel? Now observe me closely — I am going to teach you something about the essential nature of command.” He turned, took several paces towards the triple row of waiting soldiers and raised his sword.
“Disperse the rabble!” he shouted, sweeping his sword downwards to indicate the direction of attack against the advancing crowd. Soldiers broke rank immediately and ran to engage the foremost of the intruders, and the comparative silence which had pervaded the scene was lost in a sudden uproar. The crowd fell back, but instead of fleeing in complete disarray its members compacted again, having receded but a short distance, and it was then that a significant fact emerged — that only one third of the soldiers had obeyed Leddravohr’s command. The others had scarcely moved and were gazing unhappily at their nearest junior officers. Even the soldiers who had confronted the mob appeared to have done so in a tame and half-hearted manner. They were allowing themselves to be overcome easily, losing their weapons with such rapidity that they had become an asset to the surging throng. Cheering was heard as a large section of the covered way was pulled to the ground and its framing broken up to provide even more weapons.…
The other Leddravohr — cool, ethereal and uninvolved — watched with a mild degree of interest as the body-locked, carnate Leddravohr ran to a fresh-faced lieutenant and ordered him to lead his men against the crowd. The lieutenant was seen to shake his head in argument and a second later he was dead, almost decapitated by a single stroke of the prince’s blade. Leddravohr had lost his humanity, had ceased to register on the senses as a human being. Craned forward and shambling, black sword hurling a crimson spray, he went among his officers and men like a terrible demon, wreaking destruction.
How long can this go on? the other Leddravohr mused. Is there no limit to what the men will stand?
His attention was suddenly drawn to a new phenomenon. The sky in the east was growing dark as columns of smoke ascended from several districts of the city. It could only mean that the ptertha screens were burning, that some members of the community had been driven by anger and frustration to make the ultimate protest against the present order.
The message was clear — that all would go down together. Rich man and poor man alike. King and pauper alike.
At the thought of the King, alone and vulnerable in the Great Palace, the other Leddravohr’s composure disintegrated. Vital and urgent work had to be done; he had responsibilities whose importance far outweighed that of a clash involving a few hundred citizens and soldiers.
He took a step towards his complementary self, and there came a swooping sensation, a blurring of time and space…
Prince Leddravohr Neldeever opened his eyes to a flood of harsh sunlight. The haft of his sword was wet in his hand, and around him were the sounds of turmoil and the colours of carnage. He surveyed the scene for a moment, blinking as he sought to reorientate himself in a changed reality, then he sheathed his sword and ran towards his waiting bluehorn.
Chapter 18
Toller stared at the yellow-hooded body without moving for perhaps ten minutes, trying to understand how he was to deal with the pain of loss.
Leddravohr has done this, he thought. This is the harvest I reap for allowing the monster to stay alive. He abandoned my brother to the ptertha!
The foreday sun was still low in the east, but in the total absence of air movement the rocky hillside was already beginning to throw up heat. Toller was torn between passion and prudence — the desire to run to his brother’s body and the need to remain at a safe distance. His blurred vision showed something white gleaming on the sunken chest, held in place by the waistcord of the grey robe and one slim hand.
Paper? Could it be, Toller’s heart speeded up at the thought, an indictment of Leddravohr?
He took out the stubby telescope he had carried since boyhood and directed it at the white rectangle. His tears conspired with the fierce brilliance of the image to make the scrawled words difficult to read, but at length he received Lain’s final communication: PTERTHA FRIENDS OF BRAK. KILL US BECAU WE KILL BRAK. BRAK FEED PTERTH. IN RETURN P PROTEC B. CLEAR-›PINK-›PURPLE P EVOLV TOXINS. WE MUS LIVE IN HARMONY WITH B. LOOK TO SKY
Toller lowered the telescope. Somewhere under the thundering turmoil of his grief was the realisation that Lain’s message had a significance which reached far beyond the present circumstances, but for the present he was unable to relate to it. Instead he was overwhelmed by a baffled disappointment. Why had Lain not used the dregs of his mental and physical energy to accuse his murderer and thus pave a straight path for retribution? After a moment’s thought the answer came to Toller, and he almost managed to smile with affection and respect. Lain, even in death, had been the true pacifist, far removed from thoughts of revenge. He had withdrawn his personal light from the world in a manner befitting his way of life — and Leddravohr still endured.…
Toller turned to walk across the slope to where the sergeant was waiting with the two bluehorns. He was fully in control of himself and there were no longer any tears to interfere with his vision, but now his thoughts were dominated by a new question which was raking his brain with the force and persistence of waves clawing at a beach.
How can I live without my brother? The heat reflected from slabs of stone pressed against his eyes, entered his mouth. It’s going to be a long hot day, and how am I going to live through it without my brother?