“Calm yourself,” she interrupted. “I cannot imagine the gods are involved in the destruction of their own city. They have protected Setharis for a thousand years, and the Lord of Bones, Artha and Lady Night were gods here before there even was a Setharis.”
“They have all protected Setharis for an age, all except one.”
That gave her pause. “You were proven correct about one claim. I would be a fool to dismiss the other. When I return Harailt will be subjected to every test possible, however invasive. We will determine the truth beyond any possible doubt.
“That creature we encountered was not merely resistant to magic,” she continued, “it fed on it, and if that was a mere spawn then even the gods may have cause to fear. I can only imagine the horror we now face. We must retreat and formulate a plan of action.”
“Your plan is to hole up behind the walls of the Old Town until you think of something better.” Her expression told me I was correct. “What about Docklands? What about every other poor sod living there? Just going to abandon them to that creature, are you?”
Her mouth opened and closed. She looked surprised, and didn’t quite know what to say to me. I scowled and turned away. “I’m not sure what’s worse, that you are abandoning them or that you forgot to consider them at all.” She was a good person, but sadly still a product of her upbringing and environment.
“We are simply concentrating our power,” she said. “It is the logical solution.”
“Logic be damned, I…” My words drifted off as plumes of roiling smoke caught my eye. Ships berthed at Pauper’s Docks were burning. So were maybe a dozen sites spread across the city, what looked to be the warehouses that held a goodly portion of the city’s grain. A vicious melee erupted on the docks as a mob cornered a number of armed men – surely the arsonists – and began beating them to death.
“We are out of time,” she said.
Cillian ran for the docks, heedless of sharp rocks and sucking mud under her bare feet. Despite taking a hefty hit to the head, she left me puffing and panting in her wake. Knowing her, she probably rose at first light and followed an exacting exercise regime. She had told me that “a healthy body means a healthy mind” at some point in the past. My dislike of her grew.
A chain of people were ferrying buckets of seawater up onto the burning ships with impressive efficiency. Even so, sooty flames grew higher, hissing tongues of red and orange crawling up their masts. Rigging and sails flared as they went up. On the other side of the city, a pall of black was rising from Westford Docks.
“Are they trying to burn every seaworthy ship here?” Cillian said. “This is deliberate. But why?”
I licked my lips. “To stop us escaping.”
“Explain.”
“The Skinner – Harailt – was hunting down mageborn, and then he moved on to full-blown magi to fuel his blood sorcery. It seems to me he’s stepping it up, that he wants our people confined within the city walls. In an evacuation of the city, who or what would be on the first ships out?”
“The Arcanum and the High Houses of course,” she replied. “Along with our most dangerous weapons… Son of a whore!”
“Exactly. Nothing is getting out now.” It was strange hearing her swear at something other than me; always a rarity, and now that she was a high and mighty councillor I didn’t imagine it ever happened in public.
A soot-smeared dockhand, yoke across his shoulders weighed down by two full buckets, slowed and glared at us as he passed. “You two scruffians just goin’ to stand here and watch? There’s goodly folk trapped. Get in line and lend a hand.”
Cillian straightened and hoisted her chin. “No need.” Her magic flared up around her and she stretched a hand out towards the nearest ship. It started to pitch and rock as the sea churned to brown froth beneath. Gasps rippled up the waterline of people as tentacles of seawater rose around one of the ships like a sea monster about to pull the vessel under. Instead water crashed down across the deck, snuffing out flames in clouds of steam. It was an awesome display of power, more so for me than the people on the docks – they had no idea of the obscene volume of magic Cillian was channelling.
The dockhand gaped, head snapping from the ship to Cillian and back again. A strangled choke emerged from his throat and his face reddened. “Beg pardon, magus,” he forced out. “Didn’t mean no offence.”
“I took no offence, my good man,” she replied, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. “Every life is precious, is it not? It is my duty to provide what assistance I can.”
He bobbed his head and backed away from us as quickly as possible without actually fleeing. Everybody staring at us suddenly decided that gawping at the bedraggled magus was bad for their health and went back to hauling buckets of water down to the fires.
“Nice words,” I said. “Did you mean them?”
She scowled, face taut with concentration as water writhed over a second ship that was already listing badly, flames consuming the starboard side.
“I am not a monster,” she said, “whatever you may think. I will do what I must for Setharis and the Arcanum. However, I do accept that I am a product of privilege, and capable of oversight. I’m only human, you judgmental prick.”
I grunted. “Well said. Anyway, see you later.”
Her concentration almost faltered, but it took more than that to disrupt the focus of a magus of her prowess. Her eyes narrowed, lips thinning with both anger and the effort of directing so much complex magic. “You are coming with me, Edrin. If you try to leave you will regret it.”
I nodded towards the ships. “People are trapped and you are their only hope. How many will die if you try to stop me? I won’t make it easy for you.” My smile crumbled. “Don’t try to out-bastard me, Cillian. I’ll win every time. I am going to find Harailt and I am going to kill him. There is no need for your tests.”
My head ached from the strain both body and Gift had been under, and the secret locked away in my head was ever-present in my thoughts, the power that locked it away finally crumbling. I felt like a pus-filled boil ripe and ready to burst. The mere thought of reliving those memories caused me to break out in a cold sweat, but they were also the key to defeating the traitor god that was helping Harailt.
She shook her head slowly. “No, even you would not condemn innocent people to death. That would make you just as bad as all those uncaring, privileged bastards that you rant about with such vehemence.”
I looked her right in the eye. I’d already killed one innocent man since returning. “Oh, I’m far worse.” And I meant it. She’d no idea about all the dirty, devious, and just plain brutal things I’d done to survive over the years; the rich had no conception of that sort of life. I turned my back on her and headed for the city, every step exuding carefree confidence. In truth I was near pissing myself wondering if she’d stop the blood in my veins, or even burst a non-vital body part, maybe one I’d really not be keen to lose. But she didn’t, instead she cursed and focused on saving lives. She thought I really was that much of a bastard.
I didn’t examine myself too closely as to what I’d have done if she tried to stop me. I suspected neither of us would have liked the answer.
Chapter 25
A nearby warning bell tolled frantically. The wardens up on the walls hastily strung bows. Fearful faces stared out to sea. I followed their gaze. Hundreds of square sails studded the horizon, bearing the emblems of dozens of Skallgrim tribes. I licked my lips and swallowed, a thrill of fear rippling up my spine as I remembered those same wolf-ships unleashing red slaughter and daemons on Ironport. Of course Harailt was in league with those savages. He never had any empathy or mercy to begin with.