'I have yet to understand quite what is happening here,' Zhia ad¬mitted. 'I'm certain I'm missing a vital detail, but I think it's now clear that whatever is happening in Scree is going to happen. There is nothing I can do to prevent it. The stakes are being raised daily.'
'So you want me on hand for when you need me?'
'Exactly. I can't be sure how many of the city guard and mercenaries will follow me; I believe there is a spell being worked on the whole city, centred about the sunken theatre, that is slowly affecting the people of Scree,' Zhia said.
'Affecting them? In what way?' To Mikiss, Koezh sounded like a well-spoken academic analysing a problem – hardly what he'd expected.
'The city guard reports that violence is rife throughout the city, and it's increasing. Siala has brought in troops to try to control it but the rioting is getting worse. While she hopes that a show of force will intimidate the mob, if things continue this way, no one in this city will have reason to do anything but fight to the death.'
'You believe that will happen to the entire city? No wonder you want the Legion of the Damned waiting for your call.'
'Exactly; there has to be a purpose to all of this, and I intend to be there at the end to do something about it.'
Koezh laughed at the determination in his sister's voice, though his was a voice permanently tinged with sadness. 'I think that runs in the family. How many endings have we witnessed between us?'
'Enough,' Zhia said firmly, 'but I prefer to keep to the present. Siala has pulled the majority of her Fysthrall troops into the city. They were camped south of the city, just off the main road to Helrect, to keep the links between the cities secure. Usefully for you, she has kept the camp restricted. Only a select number of White Circle members were allowed to approach it.'
'So when we clear out the remaining troops in the camp, we'll he left alone.' Koezh gave a nod of acquiescence. '1 understand; we will take the camp tonight.'
Zhia raised a finger to her brother and went to take Doranei by the arm. 'No need to be hasty about it. First I think you should join us for the evening, enjoy a little society while some yet remains in Scree.'
When the evening's light had faded to nothing more than a faint brightness on the eastern horizon, two figures left the cover of the trees to the west of Scree and looked out on the houses beyond, clumps of buildings on dirt streets before the city walls. These rough homes had been erected by those too poor to afford the security ol the city walls.
One of the figures crouched and ran her fingers through the dust on the ground. The stubble of what was once long grass came up easily when she tugged at it, the desiccated stalks crackling and breaking as she rubbed them through her fingers.
This place is dying,' the witch of Llehden said, shaking her head sadly. For one bound so closely to the Land, it was exhausting to be here where the natural life was lading, liven in a desert, there was a balance and flow, but in Scree, that balance had simply collapsed.
'So what can we do here?' her companion asked. He would have looked massive compared to the witch's slender frame, had there been anyone nearby to see them. His long cloak, torn and stained by years of living in the wilds, hid a body as powerfully muscled as a Chetse white-eye. Long, tangled hair covered a strangely proportioned brow and jutting jaw, but it was the midnight-blue colour of his skin that would have attracted the crossbows had they tried to enter the city openly, instead of merely watching others do so.
'You don't have the power to redress the balance; what is it you hope to achieve here?'
'Understanding.' She looked around.
'Of what?'
'Of a threat your father and his ilk cannot understand, Fernal'
Fernal nodded and scratched his cheek with a cruelly hooked talon that explained why he carried no weapons on his belt. The colour of his skin marked him as a Demi-God, an unclaimed child of Nartis. His kind were less common than they had been in previous ages, now there were just a handful walking the Land. Fernal was one who had accepted his lot and lived a quiet, relatively peaceful life away from normal men.
'Azaer has finally shown its hand?'
The witch straightened up and brushed the remaining dust from her hand. 'The shadow's stench hangs over this city; the people are turning against each other. I know of no other mind that turns men inwards and against themselves like this.'
'To what end?'
'I have no idea,' she replied sadly. 'I have never had any contact with Azaer's followers; I have tried only to heal the victims of the shadow's machinations. I feel the shadow is anathema to all I hold dear, and I fear it.'
She used her walking staff to drag a path through the dust. Fernal peered down at the shape she was drawing, his bony brow looking even more crumpled than usual as he tried to make out the symbols.
'Will you try to stop it?'
'Of course. Whether I can or not, I will not stand idly by.' The witch stopped drawing in the dirt and stared at what she had done for a while before she erased it with her toe. She looked up at Fernal, a rare display of concern showing on her face. 'I've seen enough of Azaer's deeds to know that it goes against the balance of the Land; that in itself is enough for me to choose a side. In the last town we passed, they swore priests were being beaten in the street, temples were being burned. Tell me, Fernal, without people to worship them, without temples and priests to glorify them, what are the Gods?'
The blue-skinned figure was looking out over the city. Somewhere behind the walls a lambent glow indicated that the riots had begun early that night. 'Just a voice on the wind,' he replied.
'Well this is an evening for the unexpected,' Koezh commented coolly, walking with Legana on his arm, the perfect nobleman. 'I almost feel like introducing myself to Lord Isak, just to crown the peculiarity of it all.'
At Koezh's side, the young Farlan woman, still trying to hide her discomfort, followed his pointing finger to where a tall figure in a cape stood at the head of a squad of guards.
'1 suspect he would not react well to it. Everyone here is somewbal tense; understandable perhaps, after that repulsive travesty we've just sat through.'
I shouldn't tease her by suggesting such things, Zhia thought as sin-observed Legana, rather surprised at how fond she was of the prickly Farlan agent, but it is fun to watch her stepping out like a countess. I suspect she cares less that my brother is a vampire than that he's a male one!
'The boy was sufficiently respectful when I last met him,' Zhia replied. They were taking a turn around the theatre, ostensibly to avoid the confusion of coaches and sedans crowding around its exit. At her side, rather more comfortable than Legana, Doranei stifled a snort. She gave his hand a squeeze and leaned close to his eat. 'You disagree?'
They stopped at the head of the main street leading into the Shambles. A burning cart illuminated half a dozen Fysthrall soldiers who stood in a nervous knot two hundred yards down the road, flinching behind their shields as stones clattered down on them from every side. Zhia was pleased to notice Doranei couldn't stop hlmseli breathing in her scent before replying.
'I laving spent a few weeks in Lord lsak's company, respectful isn't the first word I'd have used for him,' Doranei said with a faint grin,
'Really? I rather believed you thought highly of the man,' Zhia said. Behind them a handful of guardsmen, Major Amber, Nai and Haipar,
shuffled to a halt. She watched the Fysthrall troops huddling under their shields while they tried to edge away, and briefly wondered if she'd brought enough men with her.
'Oh I do,' Doranei answered hurriedly, 'and I wish I could have gone to greet him tonight – if it had been under other circumstances – but he's a white-eye, and one of the Chosen. I don't think he feels any great need to be respectful to anyone – and it doesn't come naturally to him anyway.' He shot a cautious look at Legana, not wishing to start trouble, but she didn't appear to take umbrage.