The nerve centre of Urssain’s response to the fighting in the streets was high in one of the Palace towers, where he could supplement the information he was receiving simply by looking out of the window. It was for this reason that the lower floors of the Westerclave were fairly empty.
With the Goraidin setting a stern marching pace, and the Lords looking suitably harassed, the group had little difficulty in making their way through to its arched entrance. Such few Mathidrin as they met stepped smartly out of their way and saluted Yatsu’s officer’s uniform.
At the entrance, however, they found their horses being scrutinized by an officer. His uniform indicated a high rank, though how high, Yatsu did not know. Two other Mathidrin were standing by talking idly. Yatsu set his face and hoped that his ignorance of Mathidrin ranks and procedures would not betray them.
Maintaining the determined pace, Yatsu steered the group to the far side of the horses from the officer and loudly ordered them to mount, shouting, ‘Move, you sluggards, or you’ll answer to the Lord Dan-Tor personally.’
Following his lead, the Goraidin and the Lords mounted quickly and prepared to ride off.
‘Sirshiant,’ came an authoritative and supercilious voice. It was the officer.
Yatsu discreetly allowed his horse to move forward a few paces and then twisted round in his saddle as if seeking the owner of the voice. Finding him, he looked suitably surprised and then saluted smartly. ‘Beg pardon, sir. Didn’t see you. Watching the prisoners. They’re needed urgently.’
The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly. Adjusting the grip on his reins, Yatsu sent a danger signal to his men.
‘By whose authority have you released these men?’ the officer demanded.
‘Lord Dan-Tor’s direct command, sir,’ Yatsu replied.
The officer’s eyebrows rose slowly. ‘Direct com-mand,’ he echoed, as if testing its soundness. His look of suspicion increased. On the side away from the officer, Yatsu discreetly tapped his horse with his knee, to make it restive. Seeing this, the others did the same and the group fell into a slight but fluid disarray which spread out the watching Mathidrin and made the officer step back a little.
The movement enabled Yatsu to take his eyes off the officer and look around the courtyard. He could see no signs of ambush but his sense of danger was growing by the second. Somewhere a trap was closing, and this officer was playing for time.
As if in confirmation of this the officer waited very deliberately for the horses to quieten down, eyeing Yatsu coldly all the time. A horse jostled Yatsu and as its rider made soothing noises to quieten it Yatsu heard a soft whisper in the Battle Language. ‘They’ve recognized the horses.’
That had always been a risk. They had had to use the horses from the ambushed patrol because the Mathidrin horses were from the north of Fyorlund and were of a build and colour markedly different from local animals. Now some sharp eye had spotted a horse last seen going out on long patrol. Whatever this officer had set in motion, time was against them. Yatsu reached into a belt pouch with his left hand.
‘Direct command, sir. I’ve the orders here.’
Even as his hand left the pouch and swung across him to release his knife in a back-handed flick towards the throat of the watching officer, a flash of realization passed between the two of them. Ah, Yatsu thought, Mathidrin don’t keep orders in that pouch do they? And you spotted it soon enough to avoid my knife-nearly.
The officer’s supercilious expression vanished, not into fear, but into resolution as, with unexpected speed, he twisted to one side to avoid the blade which just caught the side of his neck. Yatsu registered the man’s reaction and the speed of his responses. We must find out more about these men, he thought, as he drove his horse forward powerfully.
The Lords and the Goraidin followed his move with barely any delay and, crouching low over their horses, they charged towards the nearest gate. As they rode, Yatsu turned to check the disarray back in the entrance to the Westerclave. As he did so, he saw several figures running forward.
‘Archers,’ he shouted. ‘Spread out-weave-and converge on the gate. Close round the Lords as we go through.’
Scarcely had he finished when an arrow narrowly missed his head. The group split up, making themselves into smaller, fast-moving targets, and forcing the Mathidrin archers to concentrate on rate of fire rather than accuracy. The first casualty was Arinndier who, with a cry, slumped forward over his horse’s neck with an arrow in his back. Next, one of the horses went down throwing its rider heavily on to the paved courtyard. Eldric seized the bridle of Arinndier’s horse, while one of the Goraidin swung low out of his saddle and unceremoniously swept up his dazed companion and threw him across his horse’s neck. Then the group came together raggedly for its final dash through the gate, arrows clattering about them.
The officer had obviously sent for the archers as some vague precautionary measure, as the gate still stood open to allow the speedy passage of messengers. An attempt was being made to close it now but the few guards there were milling around in mounting confu-sion as the riders drew nearer. Their confusion was not helped by the arrows falling among them.
Unused to horses in combat, the Mathidrin’s confu-sion turned rapidly to alarm and then to panic and flight as the group reached them and thundered into the short passage of the gateway, swords glinting through the gloom, and war cries mingling with the deafening clatter of the horses’ hooves. Two of the guards were downed and trampled underfoot and those who tried to assail the riders from the side were cut down ruthlessly.
Then, like a sudden summer squall, the riders were gone, swallowed up in the swirling murk.
Minutes later, Yatsu slowed the group down to a walk. ‘We’ll be less conspicuous walking than galloping now,’ he said. ‘This… fog… is unpleasant, but at least it’s working to our advantage.’
Eldric and the Lords were looking round in bewil-derment at the pervasive evil-smelling gloom, but Eldric confined his questions to the important matters of the moment.
‘Where are you taking us, Yatsu?’ he asked anx-iously. ‘The Lord Arinndier’s wounded.’
Arinndier was slumped across his horse’s neck and though conscious he was barely maintaining his grip on the animal. Yatsu looked at him and nodded thought-fully. ‘Help him keep his seat, Lord,’ he said to Eldric, then he cast an inquiring glance back to the rider who had picked up the fallen Goraidin. ‘How’s Dacu?’ he asked.
‘Shoulder’s broken I think, Commander,’ came the answer.
‘We’ve been lucky to get off so lightly,’ said Yatsu, returning to Eldric.
‘We’ve been lucky to get away at all, Goraidin. Your planning left a little to be desired didn’t it?’ Eldric had no sooner spoken than he pulled an angry face at himself for having allowed his anxiety to express itself as such ingratitude.
Yatsu caught the look of repentance in the old Lord’s eye and his own dark look softened. After all, he thought, they’d been quite impressive, those four.
‘Yes, Lord,’ he replied. ‘But circumstances left us no alternative. Dan-Tor’s wreaking havoc, and repression is growing daily. He’s disbanded the High Guards now. We had to do something and information’s not easy come by. The Mathidrin have got as many zealots as thugs in their ranks and they all live in fear of one another. They’re not as easily corrupted as you’d imagine.’
The party turned into a wider street. It was illumi-nated by globes which had lit automatically when the light faded. Their garish light shone eerily through the haze and, because several of them had been broken, the street was littered with patches of light, like wet stepping stones catching the sunlight. Acrid fumes from the broken globes added to the already foul atmosphere. A great many people were running about, and the street rang with the sounds of voices raised in both anger and fear.
Eldric thought he saw bodies lying in the shadows but everything was too indistinct. In spite of himself, he spoke out. ‘What’s happened, Yatsu? What in Ethriss’s name’s happened?’ Yatsu, however, was looking worried and was glancing round frequently.
Eldric let his question lie. ‘Do you think we’re being followed?’ he said.
Yatsu shook his head. ‘No, Lord, but these uniforms will have us in trouble soon unless we’re lucky. Damn!’
The oath was provoked by the sight of a crowd gath-ered at the end of the street. Yatsu reined his horse back and listened. ‘Quickly. This way,’ he said, and, turning sharply, he cantered off down a narrow alleyway. The others followed. A roar greeted their manoeuvre and the crowd started up the street towards them. Slowly at first, then running. However, by the time the crowd reached the alleyway, the riders were well out of the way, though they could hear the abuse that followed them and the sounds of missiles falling short and rattling along the paved way.
‘What’s happening?’ Eldric demanded of Yatsu again.
‘Later, Lord-please,’ replied the Goraidin. ‘When we’re in a safer place. Accountings will be made, but right now we’re in danger from both sides.’
‘Sides?’ Eldric muttered to himself, but he did not pursue his questioning.
‘Mind your heads,’ Yatsu called out as he led his horse under a low arch into an even narrower alley. ‘We’re nearly there now.’
The alley was strangely quiet, all the distant sounds of the City being blocked out by the tall buildings between which it was squeezed. When the last horse had clattered through the echoing arch, the hoofbeats became flat and attenuated, and such talking as went on dropped into whispers.
Yatsu began to feel relieved. The day had had con-sequences far beyond his calculation and who knew what more would follow? Would he indeed be able to face an accounting? But at least the Lords were free. He breathed out and patted his horse’s neck gently.
As he looked up, two figures appeared as if from nowhere out of the shade within shade that lined the narrow alley. He started. Why hadn’t he seen them? Where had they been hiding? He cursed himself for letting his attention drift so near to their goal. Some old memory flitted uneasily in his mind.
One of the figures lifted his hand and, in a voice well used to command, said, ‘Enough, Mathidrin, enough.’