Red Tide (65 page)

Vale looked across to where the enemy were now entering the second tower. “Shit,” he said.

That about covered it. Since arriving in Gilgamar, Ebon had made nothing but bad decisions, and now here he was being given the chance to make another. Join the defense and risk sacrificing his life—and Vale's—needlessly. Or do nothing, and watch the Chain Tower fall. If it did, the rest of Gilgamar would probably follow. With Ebon's record, maybe he should have left the decision to Vale, but when had he ever been content to be ruled by another's judgment?

“There's only two of us,” Vale said.

“Gunnar will be on his way here.” Ebon had sent the mage to keep an eye on the Canal Gate in case Ocarn tried to get a message to Tia, but he'd have heard the commotion at the harbor.

“Three, then. You think that's enough to make a difference?”

“Against a hundred stone-skins on the wall? Maybe. Against an entire fleet if it makes it past the chains…”

He glanced again at the Chain Tower overlooking the entrance to the Neck.

The fort had to hold.

*   *   *

Romany lay back on her bed, rubbing her forehead where her mask had left impressions. She could hear the attack on the harbor, but that wasn't what concerned her just now. Earlier she had respun the corroded sections of her web, only for the new threads to begin degenerating the instant they were woven. And at a faster rate than she'd detected previously, too. Clearly
some
form of power was clashing with hers, yet even knowing that, she had struggled to discern its nature. The key was not to concentrate on it, she found, but to relax her vision. Sometimes things were visible from the corner of your eye that were not evident when you looked at them directly. Such had been the case here, for she had become aware of a cloud of sorcerous particles extending through this entire wing of the Alcazar.

Romany didn't know what unsettled her more about that magical haze: that it had taken her so long to detect it, or that she still couldn't say what it was. It didn't seem to be affecting the Alcazar's inhabitants. Hells, it didn't seem to be affecting
anything
except her web. That raised the question of whether the mist had been fashioned solely to destroy Romany's creation. Possible, she conceded, but unlikely. For in all her years, she had yet to encounter anyone with the wit to detect her network of ethereal strands.

If the nature and purpose of the mist was a mystery, the source could not be in doubt.
Hex.
The stone-skin was back in his quarters, asleep. It occurred to Romany that his constant slumbers might hold a clue as to the nature of his power. It also occurred to her that his true mission here had never been to persuade Mazana to turn on Avallon. It hadn't even been to sow distrust between the sides. No, his audience with the emira had been arranged so he could gain access to the Alcazar. Now he was where he needed to be to instigate his next move.

So what would that move be? Something directed at the emperor, probably, though Hex surely wouldn't pass up the chance to strike at Mazana too. Odds were, his friends from the
Eternal
would be involved somehow. They might even be here already. But no, her web would have warned her if they were inside the Alcazar. Where, then? Somewhere close? Another building in the Upper City?

Again she found herself regretting her decision not to extend her web into the rest of Gilgamar.

What now? Warn Mazana of the threat? After Romany had just tried to kill her? Yes, that would make sense. A better option would be simply to sit back and ride out the impending storm. And maybe look for an opportunity to help the Augerans dispatch Mazana?

A knock at her door roused Romany from her reverie, but she did not answer it. It was Kiapa, she knew, come to summon her to a midday meeting between Avallon and the emira. There'd be lots to discuss now that the attack was under way. Romany, though, had no intention of attending, because if she did so she might find herself in the open when Hex sprung his surprise. Better to remain in her quarters and prepare herself for whatever was coming. After all, just because she wasn't going to go looking for trouble didn't mean
it
would not come looking for
her
.

Another knock, a pause, then Kiapa wandered off.

The first line in Romany's defenses would be a knot of spells in the corridor outside, aimed at dissuading anyone from approaching her door. Before she started on those, though, she had a hunch she wanted to confirm. Freeing her spirit from her body, she floated into the air and sped along her web to Jambar's room.

There were occasions when Romany hated being right. This was one of them. The shaman lay sprawled in death on the floor, clutching his bag of bones. There were no marks on his body, yet his face was frozen in such a rictus of suffering that Romany decided she could rule out natural causes as the manner of his passing.

Hex.

It should have been impossible to murder a shaman as skilled as Jambar. The priestess had a hunch regarding that too, which she would need to check later. Why had Hex targeted the Remnerol, though, of all the people in the Alcazar? Because he might have foreseen what the Augerans were planning, obviously. But if Hex was able to assassinate people with such ease, why hadn't his first victim been the emperor or Mazana?
Because Jambar wasn't surrounded by bodyguards. Because to take down Avallon, Hex will need the help of his kinsmen.

It struck Romany then that there was something absurd about the course of action she'd chosen. The Augerans looked more and more like a genuine threat to the League, and here was Romany about to take their side against Mazana? Why?
Because the emira is a danger to the Spider.
Wasn't she more of a danger to the stone-skins, though? How did Romany balance the need to silence Mazana against the emira's value in a future war with Augera?

Her spiritual face twisted.
Not my concern.
Spider's blessing, hadn't she vowed a bell ago to keep her mind free of distractions?

A part of her wished the goddess were on hand to discuss her reservations. But then the Spider wasn't the sort to change her mind once her course was set, or to welcome a debate on her orders. What was a priestess's role, she would say, if not to carry out the wishes of her patron? What was the point in Romany being a priestess at all if she meant to second-guess the Spider's every command?
What point, indeed.
The destruction of the Sabian League would be of no concern to the goddess. What had she said in Olaire?
Empires rise, empires fall.
What did it matter to her if Romany's temple—or indeed Romany herself—fell too? The Spider's game would just continue on a different board and with different pieces, for it was a game that had started long before Romany was born and would go on long after she died.

And so the priestess must hold her goddess's hand while she was led off the edge of a cliff.

She sighed. With the Spider as a mistress, she should have known it would end this way.

*   *   *

The Key Tower loomed above Ebon. The ramp leading up to it had looked steep from a distance, but up close it looked all but unclimbable. At its base, around thirty Revenants were drawn up. The front rank held shields, while in the second rank Ebon saw two twin sisters wearing thin gauzy susha robes and precious little else. As Ebon approached, the women and a few of their companions turned to stare at him before looking away, uninterested. There was a reassuring calm to their manner, a readiness that said this was just another fight to them, and one they expected to win.

The stone-skins they faced showed no more apprehension. Standing outnumbered at the top of the ramp, they must have known their position was hopeless. There weren't enough of them to make a shield wall across the entire width of the ramp, so instead they had formed a wedge in front of the gate. Three of them held their shields high to protect the group from missiles shot from the Key Tower's battlements. From where Ebon was standing, the stone-skins looked an imposing group, each fighter as large as any man or woman the prince had seen before. Perhaps that was just an illusion, though, created by their elevated position.

A Gilgamarian woman on the ramparts leaned out and pointed her weapon at the stone-skins. Before she could shoot it, though, its bolt fell out of its slot and spun down to clang off a shield. Then shouts started up from the battlements, and the soldier disappeared. A deepening hiss reached Ebon, as of a dozen waves of water-magic drawing closer. The waves carrying the enemy fleet? He was sure of it.

Time was running out.

He looked for the Revenant leader. At the rear of the group stood a man with his arms crossed. He was listening to a companion with an unruly beard and cheeks so red they looked flash-burned. As Ebon came near, he heard their conversation.

“… been shouting up to the Gilgamarians,” Beardy was saying. “Tried to get them to drop a rock on the stone-skins' heads—they got a damned catapult up there, for Shroud's sake—but I may as well have been talking to my old lady for all the sense I got back. They don't know if the stone-skins left anyone in the tower to stop them raising the portcullis, but they sure as hell ain't coming down to check.”

“Then let's get this over with,” the leader said. “Gonna be like tryin' to pry a limpet off a ship's ass, but if we can double up on the flanks—”

“I can put a dent in their ranks,” Ebon cut in.

The leader turned to look at him, and Ebon found himself staring into the blue eyes of a young man with a faceful of bruises. “Who are you?”

“The introductions will have to wait. I can put a dent in the stone-skins' ranks, but you'll have to get your men closer to take advantage.”

The mercenary moved his tongue round his mouth, then looked at his bearded companion. “I reckon we can do that.”

Beardy squinted at Ebon. “You a sorcerer? 'Cause I ain't smelling anything coming off you.”

“I am a sorcerer—of a kind. Now, are we done talking here, or should I pull up a chair and get comfortable?”

The leader chuckled. “We're done. Just make sure you wait for my signal before unloadin' on the stone-skins. Steepness of that ramp, we ain't gonna be skippin' the last way into the breach.”

“One more thing,” Ebon said. “You'll want to find a place in your front rank for my friend here.” He nodded toward Vale.

The two Revenants gave Vale a look.

“He's an Endorian,” Ebon explained. “A timeshifter. If you need someone up that ramp fast, there's no one quicker.”

The leader grinned like Ebon had offered to double his back pay. “Endorian, you say? Well, first rank it is, then.” He slapped Vale on the shoulder. “Name's Twist. Reckon you and me are gonna need a word when this is over, eh?”

Vale stared at him blankly.

“Got ourselves some free help, boys,” Twist said as he took his place in the front rank and accepted a shield from one of his men. “Up here with me, Endorian, don't be shy. You want a shield, or is that just gonna slow you down?”

Vale shook his head to the offered shield before moving up to flank Twist. Ebon took a position directly behind his friend. When the time came to unleash his power, the closer he was to the stone-skins, the harder his strike would land. A man to his left kissed a fish-bone charm around his neck, while a woman beside him settled a full-face helmet over her head. Ebon found himself looking for the animal etched into its cheek-piece, but these were no Pantheon Guardsmen, he reminded himself. Home felt suddenly very far away.

The man on Vale's right looked the Endorian up and down. To Twist he said, “You want me to open a book on him now, chief?”

“Up to you,” Twist said. “But you might wanna see what punch he packs before you set the odds.”

“Whose money are we taking this time?”

Twist's answer was lost beneath a scream from along the harbor wall. The second tower had already fallen, and that scream doubtless signified that the stone-skin attack on the Chain Tower had begun. Ebon couldn't actually see that attack because the second tower was in his way. He could, however, make out a Gilgamarian officer atop the Chain Tower's battlements, waving his sword as if he were about to lead a charge over the parapet. Easy to be brave, though, when you had a wall and a portcullis to hide behind.

And yet didn't the defenders have every reason to be confident? With the portcullis down, the stone-skins would be forced to assault the battlements. The narrowness of the wall would give them only a limited front along which to attack, and they didn't even have ladders that Ebon had seen. How could they possibly hope to overrun their target?

Something told him they would find a way.

Ebon looked back at Twist to find the man watching him in turn. “Are we ready?” the leader asked.

“We are.”

Twist glanced at the mercenaries to either side of Ebon, and it was only now the prince realized that he stood between the scantily dressed twin sisters.

“Recruits,” Twist said to them, “you're responsible for our friend here. Try to look after him better than you did your last employer.”

The twins scowled at Ebon as if he'd been the one who had spoken.

“I am Tali,” the sister to his right said.

“And I am Mili.”

“Be sure you don't mistake us…”

“… we shall be testing you later.”

Twist raised his voice to carry to his troops. “Okay, listen up. Here's what's gonna happen. Our friend here”—he nodded to Ebon—“is gonna punch a hole in the stone-skins' ranks, then the race is on to see who can fill it first. Keep them engaged on the flanks and make our numbers count. Word is these stone-skins know their business, but let's see for ourselves.”

“What if the bastards charge us?” someone said.