Beyond the Wall of Time (62 page)

“Big place,” Sauxa said.

*   *   *

Noetos had taken himself away to speak to his children. Arathé was suffering from a headache, she said, and Anomer was worried.
Lenares spied Cylene walking through the darkness alone and decided to join her.

“I am very grateful for what you said about me,” Lenares told her. “Most of the time my specialness goes unnoticed.”

“Not by me,” Cylene said. “I’m so happy to have a sister at last.”

“But you had sisters. I spoke to Sena.”

“My mother’s creatures,” Cylene said. “Sena barely had any self-will left in her. I never shared anything special with her.
Never spoke to her, actually.”

“And you want to share special things with me?” Lenares could not think of anything she wanted more. To be special in a sister’s
eyes! To have secret confidences whispered in her ear!

As if echoing her thoughts, Cylene drew closer to Lenares and spoke quietly. “You know, there are things you and Torve could
do together that don’t need his… ah, equipment to accomplish.”

It took Lenares a moment to work out what her sister meant. “What?”

Cylene licked her lips, as though about to attempt something difficult. “You’ve seen animals mate. I know you have: I can
remember watching the horses with you. We thought they were fighting.”

A memory of sound and movement presented itself to Lenares’ mind. “Vaguely,” she said.

“The stallion mounts the mare with no concern for how she feels. Sometimes her body is not ready and she is damaged as a result.”
Her face folded inwards for a moment. “But you, sister, are lucky. Your stallion has no urgent need to be relieved. He will
not mount you unprepared. He will not damage you. So you can take your time and teach each other that which gives you pleasure.”

“Oh, Cylene,” Lenares said, and tears began to run down her cheeks. This was what she needed to hear, had wanted explained
to her in the town square at Mensaya. More than explanations, she just wanted to hear someone say it was allowable for her
to find joy with Torve. “What gives a man pleasure?”

Her sister giggled and enfolded Lenares in a hug. “It’s one thing to give a man pleasure, and I know all about that, but it’s
another to love him with your body. So I am on my own voyage of discovery. Be sure I will share my findings with you, if you
promise to put them into practice.”

“I will,” Lenares said. “If we pass through this fortress alive.”

Cylene shuddered in her arms.

And so we come to the sharp end of the adventure
, Noetos told himself grimly as the travellers approached the fortress of Andratan.

The fortress hunkered on the landscape like an immense animal, asleep for the moment. High above them the single light winked
like a half-lidded eye ready to spring open at the slightest sign of disturbance.
There’ll be more than a slight sign
, Noetos thought, fighting down waves of uneasiness.

Arathé clung to his left arm, muttering wordlessly to herself. A headache, she’d claimed, only a headache. But they had been
on this journey long enough to mistrust purely natural events.
She has a conduit to Husk, who may well now be in the possession of a god. What will happen if that possession is challenged?
Where might the god seek to go next?

Noetos desperately wanted to run. Run down the path leading away from the door looming over them, run to the shore, commandeer
a boat, any sort of boat, and put out to sea. He’d hated the sea his whole life, but now it seemed his family’s only place
of safety.

Irrational
, he told himself. It didn’t matter where his daughter hid, she could be reached through the magical connection to Husk. On
the ocean, in the favelas of Malayu, or under her blankets in Fisher House at home in Fossa, it was all the same—she could
be found anywhere. As could Anomer, through his sister. Duon, who shared a similar connection. And, through his daughter,
Noetos himself.

His children knew this, yet they were determined to go on. How could he do any less? Yet these thoughts did nothing to dampen
his incipient terror.

A hundred paces from the door Noetos turned and held his arms up, palms forward, then motioned the travellers behind the last
piece of cover: a few low, wind-battered bushes.

“We should have a strategy for this,” he said in a voice that sounded disappointingly weak to his ears. Fearful. “Otherwise
we are doomed to react to the plans of others.”

He took a deep breath. With this moment in mind he had wooed and won Cyclamere to his cause. The blunt Padouki, his former
tutor, stepped forward at the fisherman’s signal. His face was marble, showing none of the uncertainty Noetos himself felt.

“I yield to the Swordmaster of Roudhos,” Noetos said.

“The Duke of Roudhos and I have discussed our approach many times in recent days,” said Cyclamere in clipped tones. “And,
as you know, I have spent time with each of you, discussing your strengths in preparation for the inevitable confrontation
in this fortress.”

He discussed their weaknesses too, at some length
, Noetos added mentally.
But he does not mention them now.
Not a word, not a hint of the negative immediately before a battle: his tutor had repeated the lesson enough times to make
it a mantra.

“We have two powerful magicians at our disposal,” the old warrior continued. “The children of Noetos have ably demonstrated
their ability to protect us, as Captain Duon of Elamaq and the Duke of Roudhos himself will attest to, after vanquishing the
Neherians in the Summer Palace at Raceme.”

Good, remind them of past glories. Not that Raceme was in any way glorious.

“They contained the attack of the gods at Lake Woe, and at Corata Pit fought off Umu herself. Anomer and Arathé have demonstrated
the ability to draw power from everything around them, which I have been told is the mark of a superior magician.”

Told by the Undying Man, who is no longer with us
, Noetos thought;
who may, in fact, be one of our adversaries. Certainly mine.

“In addition, they have pioneered the technique of distributing physical injury amongst their allies to prevent a serious
or fatal blow afflicting any one person.”

Here it is, the moment at which the travellers might baulk.

“Each of us was called on this journey. All of us have already proved our worth, each necessary at various stages. We cannot
tell what else we might be called on to do, but we must take comfort in the fact that the Father has not finished with us
yet. We must all assume we are, each one, about to see action. None of us is here as a mere spectator. At the very least,
that action will entail giving of our essenza”—his eyes flicked to Anomer, as if reassuring himself that he had the unfamiliar
word right—“and being prepared to receive wounds on behalf of others. I will not ask whether there are any here afraid of
this: we all are. But I will also not ask if anyone here wishes to resile. You had that opportunity in the House of the Gods
when you travelled magically to a place of your own choosing. You returned, knowing what awaited you. Therefore you elected
to continue to the end.”

Assorted nods from grim faces.

“We also have a number of gifted swordsmen in our midst. In my prime I was accounted the best in Roudhos with a blade, and
I am still in my prime.” He smiled bleakly. “I know tricks that short-lived swordsmen, no matter how gifted and trained, do
not, and I have used them in battle. The Duke of Roudhos was—is—one of my pupils and has acquitted himself well during this
adventure, as young Mustar can testify.”

The young son of Halieutes nodded his head enthusiastically.
So Cyclamere had that story from the boy
, Noetos thought, not entirely displeased.

“Captain Duon is a trained soldier, modest in his claims regarding his ability, but I have seen him work the forms and would
be honoured to have him guard my lord’s back and those of my lord’s children.”

Clever
: the captain’s grim face cleared for a moment.

“Anomer is good with a blade,” Seren put in, unaware of the soldier’s discipline requiring silence as a battle plan unfolded.
Not that the miner would have cared much for the rule had he known it.

“Aye, he is not forgotten,” Cyclamere said. “Nor is his sister. Arathé will need to wait until we liberate a blade from inside
the fortress, but if circumstances require it, she can also fight. It was part of the reason she was selected to come here
as a servant of the Undying Man in the first place, after all.”

Setting off this whole venture
, Noetos finished morosely.

“Others among you can wield a weapon at a pinch, but I would encourage you not to arm yourselves unless in protection of your
own life—and even then, think twice.” Noetos smiled, pre-empting the aphorism to follow. “A weapon in the hands of the untutored
has no handle but blades at both ends. You will likely do more damage to friend than to foe.

“The rest of you will enter Andratan without weapon or magic. But you are not defenceless. You are quick of mind, adaptable,
able to think on your feet. You are leaders, but also able to obey commands without question.”

Was that a slight glance in Noetos’s own direction?

“I speak as a veteran of many battles: had I been in possession of soldiers with your talent, I would never have lost a single
one.”

It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Noetos imagined he could see a brightening of countenance in some of those around
him.

“And now, our two main weapons, those we must protect at all costs. I refer to the huanu stone carried by the Duke of Roudhos
and the special abilities of Lenares the cosmographer.”

Darkness or no, Noetos could see the girl’s grin from five paces away. Could almost feel the heat of her pleasure radiating
outwards.
Truly, Lenares does not care if she lives or dies, as long as she is praised.

“That is the list of our assets. Now, our strategy. We have two weapons: a stone to abrogate magic and the vision to guide
it. Both are essential. Therefore we will become two teams, each tasked with the protection of one of the weapons. Arathé
will hedge her father about with magic, and will be accompanied by my own sword. Bregor, Consina, Seren and Cylene complete
the team, commanded by the Duke of Roudhos. Lenares will be protected by Anomer’s magic and his sword, and will have at her
back the blade of Captain Duon. Torve, Sauxa, Moralye, Sautea and Mustar will go with her. Captain Duon is charged with leading
this second team. Duon and Arathé, as former spikes of the devil-magician Husk, can speak together mind to mind. They will
therefore keep the teams in close contact, even if they should be separated.”

Moralye cleared her throat. “What if we find Stella or Kannwar here? Either one, or both together? Do we invite them to be
part of our team? How could we stop them?”

“You’ll need to make that judgment in the context of the situation,” Cyclamere responded. “Remember, your brain is your weapon.
A good decision may undo all the stratagems of the enemy.”

“But what do we do when we get in there?” Consina asked, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice.

Cyclamere frowned momentarily. Noetos could see the word
patience
forming on his lips.

“We cannot devise a comprehensive set of tactics,” he said. “Too much is unknown about the situation within the fortress.
Who is in control? Husk? Umu? The Undying Man? What are their desires, that we might thwart them?”

He began to pace.
A bad sign
, Noetos thought.
My war leader is unable to keep his unease under control.

“The ultimate task set us is to drive the Daughter back through the hole in the world and seal it behind her. If this task
was beyond us, the Father would not have so painstakingly assembled us and brought us here. I deem we have one other necessary
task to perform: the rebinding or death of Husk.”

Murmurs of agreement from his listeners.

“We may have a third task, one forced upon us by recent events. Until a few hours ago the Undying Man was our ally and perhaps
our most important weapon. We appear to have lost him now. It cannot be helped. Indeed, I never factored him into our plans:
such a one is above any plan we might have conceived. But Stella is a grievous loss. Immortal, magician in her own right:
if she is in this fortress, we should consider rescuing her and putting her abilities to use in our cause.”

“Consider it?” Sauxa said, indignant. “Consider? Surely her safety ought to be our first concern?”

“Alas, no,” said the swordmaster. “We must not jeopardise the achievement of our ultimate goal. Indeed, Stella or anyone else
in this fortress tonight must be sacrificed without hesitation if it brings us closer to defeating Umu.” Cyclamere lowered
his voice. “You are supremely gifted men and women. You have pride, and are familiar with command. You make your own decisions
and expect others to follow you. But know this: I am in charge here tonight. I will have your obedience, or you will wait
for us outside the walls of the fortress.”

He waited until fourteen voices had given their assent.

“Very well,” he said, and broke cover, setting out for Andratan with long strides.

At the huge wooden gate, Cyclamere nodded to Noetos. “In the name of the Duke of Roudhos, open the gates!” cried the swordmaster,
and rapped on the wood with the hilt of his sword.

A beat; then the gates swung silently inwards, opening on darkness and two small figures.

“It would have been far more sensible to sneak in somewhere,” Consina breathed to Bregor.

Noetos groaned. In the silence there was no hope of the words remaining unheard.

“Sautea, Mustar, you are transferred to Noetos’s team,” Cyclamere barked. “Consina and Bregor will stand down.”

“Stand down? What do you mean?”

“I mean you will wait outside the gate. You will not enter Andratan. We must work together as a team.”

“But—” Bregor began.