The Last Stormlord (52 page)

His passion broke through into his voice and she looked up at him, startled. He dropped to his knees beside her. “Terelle, I’ll speak to Highlord Nealrith. Maybe he can help. What if you do your own painting? There’s got to be a way!”

“I can’t paint myself, remember? And Russet’s so much more powerful than I am.”

“
Is
he? If that was so, then he wouldn’t need you so much! Terelle, don’t give up. Please—” He stopped, astonished by his own reaction to being parted from her. It
mattered
. He couldn’t bear to lose another person. Especially not Terelle. He opened his mouth to protest further but didn’t have the words to express what he wanted, what he thought. All that would come out was a pathetic, “Please don’t give up. Not like this.”

His passion had shaken her, he could see that. She looked at him uncertainly, then her eyes filled with tears. And suddenly she was in his arms, crying, and he was patting her awkwardly on the back.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to say the things he had been holding inside. “Terelle, other than Mica, you’re the only friend I’ve ever had. I thought after Taquar that I’d never trust anyone again.” He was grateful she had her face buried in his shoulder and was not watching him as he stumbled on, wading through a welter of raw emotion. “For nearly four years I never spoke to anyone but Taquar, and that not often. So if I’m not making sense, I’m sorry. I’m not good at saying things. But I want to tell you I don’t want to lose you. And that I’ll look after you, if I can. You’ll never want for water, I swear. And I’ll keep you safe.”

She pulled back then, to look at him, wiping her face with the back of her hand. She managed to appear amazed and bemused and delighted, all at the one time.

“But you’ve got to fight Russet’s power first. I can’t do that for you,” he added.

And something died in her expression, even as she said, “I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.”

Scarpen Quarter

Scarcleft City

Scarcleft Hall, Level 2

The seneschal of Scarcleft Hall, Harkel Tallyman, was a thin, small-framed man, nondescript in appearance and deceptively harmless in his manner. As a consequence, he was often overlooked. Yet after the highlord himself, Harkel was the most powerful man in Scarcleft, maintaining his position through a network of spies, assassins, thieves, blackmailers, water sensitives and informants. Trusted with the running of the city when Taquar was absent—which was frequently—his loyalty to the highlord was unswerving and unquestioning.

It had surprised him, then alarmed him, when it took so long to find Shale the Gibber youth. He had grown unused to failure. He had been at fault, he acknowledged to himself; he hadn’t taken the search seriously enough at first, assuming the enforcers would soon find one lone young man, newly arrived and naive in the ways of the city.

The last time he had been face-to-face with Taquar, he had seen a deep anger in the rainlord’s eyes, the first directed his way in more than ten years. It had unsettled him. He knew Taquar better than anybody, and he knew just how utterly ruthless the rainlord could be when cold rage overtook careful strategy as his driving force.

At last, however, the fickle winds of luck were at last gusting Harkel’s way, and he was relieved to be able to go to the highlord with news of Shale Flint from several different sources.

Taquar was going through a pile of paperwork when Harkel entered his room, but he pushed that aside immediately and acknowledged the seneschal with a terse nod. “What is it?”

“A possibility, lord. One of my informants saw someone who may have been the Gibber youth, Shale, some time ago at a residence on Level Ten. Unfortunately, he only realised this more recently, when he saw one of the posters. I have put a watch on the house, and one of my men is courting the maidservant.”

The rainlord did not move a muscle, yet Harkel was aware of how taut he was. How close to lashing out in a lethal rage. “Go on.”

“My informant—his name is Jomat—is the steward for an arta, Amethyst the dancer. I understand that my lord is acquainted with the lady.”

“Watch your tongue, Harkel.”

Harkel’s mouth went dry. “Yes, my lord. I mean no disrespect. The young man was disguised as a Reduner. He came to Amethyst’s house with a Gibber girl who is an apprentice to the outlander waterpainter Russet Kermes. Her name is Terelle. It is possible that the boy is hiding in the waterpainter’s room. I have men out tracing the exact building, but I am treading carefully. The house must have been searched before, but somehow he was not found then. Perhaps he was warned. This time, we are being more careful.

“Jomat tells me that shortly after seeing Shale, the dancer wrote a letter to someone. I had men inquire at the tenth level’s letter repository, and they found that it had already been dispatched to Breccia Hall, addressed to Lady Ethelva. I do not know if these two events are connected.”

Taquar interrupted. “Yes. They are. Of course they are.” His fingers drummed on the desk, betraying unaccustomed agitation. Taquar continued, “Someone has given him good advice. He has applied to Breccia Hall for help.” Anger smouldered like a dampened fire about to break through. “I shall want everyone dead, Harkel. Except Shale.”

“Including the dancer?”

“Especially the dancer. But don’t you worry about her. I’ll attend to that myself. First, we must make sure we have Shale safe. Do nothing until he is physically in your hands.”

“I have another piece of news which may be connected. An informant in Breccia Hall sent a message to me via a myriapede rider. Highlord Nealrith has left Breccia with a small entourage. Eleven men altogether.”

“Bound for Scarcleft?”

“No one knows for sure, but my informant checked the amount of water the party took with them and the gate they left by. Both fit a journey to Scarcleft. And the timing is right for them to have left in response to the letter Amethyst sent.”

“Ah. When are they due?”

“My informant’s messenger travelled as fast as he could, but I don’t imagine that he is as much as a day ahead. It’s likely Nealrith and party will arrive sometime later today.”

Taquar stopped his drumming. “He will probably go straight to Amethyst. She will then send for Shale. Nealrith will wait at Amethyst’s for him, and then they’ll leave.”

“I could have my men intercept them at the gate. On the way out, I mean.”

“Don’t be stupid. That’s too risky. Can you have forgotten you would be dealing with a rainlord of power? No, I think it is up to me to intercept Nealrith. You must go after Shale before the two of them meet. Follow Amethyst’s messenger to find out for sure where he is. Once you have Shale spirited away to Scarcleft Hall, kill the waterpainters, the messenger, anyone else who looks as if they know anything. I will deal with Nealrith and Amethyst.” He smiled. “You seem to have done something right in this matter at last, Harkel. Which is well for you.”

Harkel stilled the fear that soaked him. “As you say, m’lord.”

Taquar smiled yet again. “It is a pity that I am not yet ready for an open confrontation with Nealrith, but nonetheless, I shall enjoy thwarting him.”

“Highlord—” Harkel hesitated.

Taquar raised his eyebrows in question.

“The boy’s abilities. I know he can move water—the reeves from the city’s waterhall told me that much. But I need to know if he can kill… in the rainlord manner.”

“No. That I never taught him. And I have reason to believe he would find it difficult. You should have no problems dealing with him.” He sat down again. “Let us discuss the details of this plan, Harkel. There must be no mistake. Shale must be safe and unhurt in my hands, and all those who know about him must die.” He looked up and fixed an unwavering gaze on the seneschal. “There can be no other result. Do you understand me?”

Harkel nodded calmly. “Of course, m’lord. And I apologise for my former missteps in this matter. It won’t happen again.”

Taquar smiled. “I’m sure it won’t.”

Harkel did not feel reassured.

Scarpen Quarter

Scarcleft City

Level 36

“Someone’s coming along the hallway,” Shale said.

Terelle moved out of his arms, spilling water from her painting tray in her hurry. “I’ll
never
get used to you being able to do that.”

“Four men.”

“Let’s hope it’s the rainlords. But get out of sight, just in case.”

He stepped behind the curtain that surrounded her sleeping pallet, and a moment later heard a man’s voice saying, “We are looking for Terelle, the apprentice to the waterpainter.”

Terelle’s reply was steady. “That’s me.”

“Amethyst the dancer sent us here to fetch your friend. Nealrith, Highlord of Breccia City, asks for his presence.”

At last.
Shale stepped out from behind the curtain and nodded to Terelle. She stood back to allow the men to enter and then closed the door behind them. They were all large, and they made the room seem small. The oldest, a formidable man in his thirties with a hook nose and a scar running down the side of his face, carried a pike. Two others, both young, had scimitars at their belts. The leader of the group, a muscular, tanned man with lazy blue eyes, wore a sword.

He spoke first, directing his words to Shale, “Who are you?”

“Shale Flint.”

“A
Reduner
?”

“It seemed a sensible disguise.”

“Ah. No one warned me. I’m Kaneth Carnelian, a rainlord of Breccia City.” He indicated the man with the scar. “Elmar, pikeman of the Breccia Hall guard. Highlord Nealrith is at the house of Arta Amethyst. He asked me to bring you to him.”

Shale’s heart was pounding fast, but he tried not to show that he was edgy. He turned to Terelle. “Come with me.”

She hesitated.

He wanted to tell her so many things, but the words dried up in his mouth.

The rainlord was saying, “Fetch all your things. You won’t be returning here.”

To Shale’s relief, Terelle began to shovel her paint pots into a woven bag. As she grabbed up her clothes to stuff them on top, Lord Kaneth watched with a raised eyebrow but didn’t say anything. When Shale had gathered together his own meagre belongings, one of the men took them from him, saying, “I’m Soltar. Gadri here will carry this for you.” He tossed the bundle over to the fourth man, who grinned at Shale but didn’t say anything.

“We need to hurry,” Lord Kaneth said, frowning at Terelle. “We want to be out of Scarcleft before Taquar knows we’ve arrived.”

“Why not leave the city now, from here? It would be safer. Enforcers are looking for me. The south gate is only a few moments’ walk,” Shale said.

Lord Kaneth looked at him in surprise. “Are you questioning Highlord Nealrith’s orders? I do not think that anyone will challenge our right to escort you anywhere.” He tapped the insignia on Soltar’s tunic, a monogram of entwined letters. “That stands for Breccia Hall,” he said.

“I didn’t recognise it. And neither will the people in the street out there,” Terelle told him. “And here on the thirty-sixth, they won’t much care, either. All people care about now is water, and the reward offered for Shale’s capture is a lifetime allotment. True, he’s posed as a Reduner once out on the streets, but since then there’s been a lot more searches and trouble. People are more alert.”

Lord Kaneth surveyed Shale. “The disguise is a good one. We’re not likely to have trouble.”

“I agree with Terelle,” Shale said. “Going up to the tenth would be foolish. Lord Nealrith can’t understand the mood of the people of this level or know how dangerous Lord Taquar is.”

The Breccian pikeman with the scar, Elmar, interrupted. “You speak of two highlords, young fellow. Keep a civil tongue behind your teeth!”

“He speaks of a man who killed his family!” Terelle rapped back. “Doesn’t Highlord Nealrith know what is at stake?”

“Listen!” Shale cried suddenly. Strangers, men running up the stairs—he could sense them.

Kaneth misunderstood and ignored him. “All we know is an unsubstantiated story that may well malign a fellow rain—” he began. He did not get any further.

Shale shouted a warning. At the same moment, the door was pulled open. Terelle, who had been leaning against it, fell flat on her back, half in and half out of the doorway. Her head slammed onto the floor. A burly man wearing the uniform of the enforcers trampled over her, followed by seven or eight others. The room suddenly bristled with blades. Shale went to dive through them to get to Terelle, but Lord Kaneth grabbed his arm to jerk him back behind the table.

Elmar swung his pike up into a defensive position, attempting to bar the intruders from reaching Shale and the rainlord. “What is this?” he asked, puffing up in indignation. “Who dares to challenge the Cloudmaster’s men? What do you want?”

“We have come to take the youth,” the first man replied. “He is a wanted criminal.”

Lord Kaneth stepped in front of Shale. “We have precedence in this matter, I think,” he said. There was nothing lazy or slow about him now. “I am here representing Cloudmaster Granthon, who has given orders for this man to be brought before him.”