The Right Hand of God (6 page)

Across the City, in a disused storehouse close by the Hall of Lore, Tanghin strode through the crowd, touching foreheads as he went. Inevitably the result was the same; down the people fell, to lie prone on the stone floor for hours at a time, enjoying some mystical cathartic experience. He could have used his true power to push them over, but they did it themselves! It continued to amaze him just how suggestible these people were, and he was beginning to realise how his master might have come to his power. Had he merely tapped an innate weakness in everyone? 'The Fire is falling tonight!' he cried, enjoying himself immensely. 'Open yourselves to the flame! The Most High wants to burn within you!' There existed a kind of unspoken agreement between the crowd and himself: he agreed to perform, and they agreed to fall for him. Oh yes, and they were falling! Laughter welled up in his chest, and for a moment he checked it, but nothing he did tonight would offend or bring suspicion on him, so he let the laugh ring out. 'The joy is here tonight. Can you feel it?' he cried. As though joy was a commodity to be plucked out of the air. Simpletons!

Time to get to work. He fashioned a strong Wordweave, then began to declaim. 'The Most High is doing a new thing,' he intoned. 1 am about to give you new orders. 'He says: "I am about to raise another group to do My will. Escaigne are My chosen instrument, and they shall bring Fire to this City, setting neighbours against each other.'" Escaigne is about to attack the Council of Faltha, and I want you to support them. 'They are the winnowers of the Most High, separating the chaff from the wheat and setting it alight. Hear the words of the Most High and obey them!' Hear my words and obey them! 'The proud City of Instruere will be brought low, and you are His instrument!'

He lowered his voice, and the chorus of shouted agreement dropped away to a whisper. 'Even now the Master of All draws near to your walls.' The Undying Man is coming with his great army. 'Prepare to open the gates and let Him in no matter what your earthly leaders might say. When the time comes, you will betray Falth in the name of your religion.

'Many of you will be required to suffer in His name. He will torment you and kill you, and you will regard it as an honour.

'But, in the end, you will be victorious!' In the end, he will be victorious.'

Now the prophecies begun. He continued to be amazed at how accurate some of them were, although he suspected many people susceptible to the Ecclesia were also susceptible to the Wordweave, and their very thoughts were shaped by his will. The idea that he was bending thousands of lives like reeds before a rod of iron drove him into a frenzy of excitement, and it was all he could do to restrain himself and listen to what was being spoken. Something about the Arrow of the Most High drawing near. Well, wasn't that what he'd just said.' He began to tremble and recognised the itch. He'd need to visit The Pinion tonight. Or perhaps Stella could provide him with some more entertainment. He might not be allowed to touch her - a command he would not break, would not think of breaking - but there were many other things he could do.

He drifted through the rest of the meeting in a red haze, palmed off the many supplicants to his assistants, and headed back towards his rooms in an annexe of the Hall of Lore, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

'Who is that?' whispered Petara. 'Is it one of the Council?' The Presiding Elder put a finger to his lips, indicating silence, a gesture wasted in the darkness. This one was indeed a puzzle.

They had been observing him for a few days, a man who was a part of the Ecclesia, who actually ran one of the

meetings, but who lived in the Hall of Lore, in rooms reserved for important visitors to the Council of Faltha. He obviously didn't want people to make the connection, because he was seen to use this path only when no one else was about.

The leader of Escaigne's army whispered a command for absolute stillness. Now, of all times, they could not risk discovery and the loss of all they had worked for, not when they waited on the very cusp of their assault on Instruere. Though it might be interesting to capture this man and find out what he knew, the Presiding Elder resisted the temptation. A lifetime of operating on the fringes of society, first in Sivithar and latterly in Instruere, taught him to make no hasty decisions.

Without warning the figure turned from the path and walked briskly towards them. The Presiding Elder panicked and, fearing they were about to be discovered and denounced, made to signal his archers to strike the man down; but, to his horror, found he could not move as much as an arm or even a hand in response to his urgent thought. He could not cry out. His voice seemed locked in his throat.

'1 know you're there,' the man said casually, peering through the foliage towards where the Escaignians hid. 'I know who you are and what you intend to do. In fact, I'm helping you with your plans. Some of your best ideas are mine! But I don't want you to know who I am, not yet, not until it's too late. So - let's see - I'll take one of you,' - he beckoned, and Petara rose woodenly to his feet - 'and let the rest of you go. But first, it seems you have all become very forgetful. Ah well, just don't forget to launch your attack on the Granaries at dawn tomorrow morning.' He came close to the helpless Escaignians, close enough for them to see his face, then his eyes flashed red and they fell to the ground, unconscious.

Deorc beckoned to the remaining Escaignian. 'Come with me to The Pinion. I have a number of things I want to show you.' He would turn this man without placing a hand on him. Perhaps he would show the result to Stella before he returned the unfortunate man to the Escaignians.

After a brief but heavy shower overnight, the next morning dawned clear and bright, as though someone had spent the night scrubbing all the dark deeds from the city. The Presiding Elder rubbed his temple. He had picked up an annoying headache, dampening his spirits somewhat. Still, the culmination of a decade of planning had arrived and, as the first rays of sunlight broached the walls of the wicked City and illuminated the high tower of the House of Worship, he signalled the commencement of their long-awaited campaign. He could surely be forgiven the surge of excitement flashing through him.

Within a few moments a lamp was lit and one of the Granary buildings, located near the Struere Gate, caught fire. This was purely a diversionary tactic, as those who planned this attack did not want ordinary Instruians to starve; but the fire would ensure the authorities, and many of the Instruian guardsmen, would be occupied in putting it out. Being able to predict the movements of the Guard was crucial to the Escaignian plans.

Smoke began to rise from half-a-dozen places around Instruere, all close to the walls, designed to draw the Guard away from the centre of the City. The attack of Escaigne on Instruere had four main targets, the Four Halls of Instruere: the Hall of Lore, the House of Worship, the Hall of Meeting and The Pinion. Capturing these four buildings would give them command over Instruere. It would offer control over

the decisions made and the people who made them; over the guards who enforced them; and over the minds and hearts of the Instruians who looked on these four buildings every day as representing the tangible link to the founding of Instruere by the First Men. Whoever held these places held Instruere in his hand.

The plan was to harry the Guard rather than to engage them in battle. The Presiding Elder was smarter than to think his men and women could hold out long against a concerted attack by the well-trained, well-equipped guardsmen. The Escaignians were to emerge from their hiding places, ambush the guards as they ran from one fire to another, then melt back into the tangle of narrow streets and alleyways, of rooftop paths between tenements and disused buildings they knew far better than did the Guard.

By the midst of a morning full of shocks, their plan had been abandoned. Far fewer guards than anticipated arrived to deal with the fires, and because of this things began to go wrong for the Escaignians. The Council, having tumbled to their strategy, held a large reserve of guards in The Pinion, which meant the attack on both it and the Hall of Meeting nearby had to be delayed. Further, the fires which ought to have been extinguished by the Guard now raged out of control. The Presiding Elder fumed, having never considered the notion that the Council might rather see Instruere burn than empty The Pinion of guardsmen. Finally, the appearance of only a few guards emboldened many of the Escaignian fighters, who saw a real chance of success when confronted with small knots of confused guardsmen. Some of his generals encouraged sustained attacks, believing this would help draw reinforcements from The Pinion, but had forgotten how well-trained the Guard was. The situation collapsed rapidly from there.

Turn aside! Turn aside!' screamed the Presiding Elder to a group of Escaignians armed with all manner of cast-off weapons. Inflamed beyond reason, they ignored the cries of their leader and continued to chase half-a-dozen guards down a lane, pursuing revenge. Around a corner they went, there to be confronted by another dozen of the Guard. The Escaignians had been lured into a trap. Fifty yards behind, the Presiding Elder saw what was about to happen, but could do nothing. He turned helplessly and ran from what already sounded like a slaughter.

His plan was ruined, and his men were dying.

The Granaries burned beyond saving. Many ordinary Instruians joined with the firefighting efforts of the grain workers and the Guard, but made little impression on the fires. High up in the largest of the grain silos, the heat and pressure finally reached the point where something had to give. With a loud boom the silo exploded, showering those below with flaming wood, white-hot fragments of metal and burning grain that settled on their exposed skin and found its way inside their clothing. Within moments the whole area began to come apart in a series of explosions, dooming many of the people who rushed to put out the fires, and the Escaignians who hoped to pick off the guards, or at least delay their return to The Pinion.

'Back, get back!' Mahnum cried, dragging Indrett away from a large, jagged piece of glowing metal, from the shrieking of a man whose legs jutted out from beneath it, and from the terrible smell of burning flesh. 'We can do nothing! We must leave!'

'Always we can do nothing,' Farr growled. 'Run from this, run from that, never staying, never standing to fight!' But

like the others he ran, barely outpacing another explosion, joining with the crowds trying to escape the sudden destruction reaching out to them.

'If Stella is held in the Granaries, or anywhere around them, then she is dead,' concluded Perdu.

'As will we be, if we don't run faster!' Mahnum urged them on. He longed to scoop Indrett up but knew she wouldn't allow it. Just four of them left. They couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

They had lost Stella the morning after their confrontation with her over her proposed marriage. She was not in her room, and could not be found. Mahnum and Indrett immediately suspected she'd run off to be with Tanghin. The man denied it, and he'd been very convincing.

He expressed shock and sorrow, added a mild rebuke of those who would have counselled such a headstrong girl as his Stella to lay aside her feelings, and incidentally disappoint his hopes. He offered to help them search for her, but as yet his duties with the Ecclesia prevented him from joining them as they scoured every part of Instruere for news. To Mahnum his words simply did not ring true. How much did he truly love her, if he was not willing to put the Ecclesia aside for a short while for her sake? Stella had been wrong in her judgment of him, and Indrett had been right, he decided. The man was a social dilettante, one who played with the affections of others, who liked the sound of his own voice and the effects of his own power. She was well rid of him. But where was she?

Over the last few weeks they felt they'd searched the whole of Instruere, inside and out, every alley, every crooked street, marketplace and business house. Yet they knew this could not be so, as in all their inquiries they had not once come

across any sign of Escaigne. And if Escaigne could hide itself effectively in Instruere, so could whoever hid Stella. They knew from their time at the markets that every year a number of people went missing in the Great City, never to be heard from again. The general opinion was that these were made up of some who vanished to escape bad debts or a wrathful lover, others who had been murdered for any number of reasons, from robbery to revenge, and a few who, so the whispers went, ended up as slaves to the rich and powerful. Still, none of the searchers seriously considered any of these possibilities had befallen Stella.

Just behind them and to their left a tall wooden building burst into flame. Mahnum cried a warning. The fire kept pace as they fled, running parallel with the southern wail, herding them towards the Struere Gate. Panic spread throughout the district as people tried to avoid the accelerating destruction. Perdu stumbled and fell, and was immediately trampled on by people desperate to escape the ruin of the Granaries. Without warning a bright orange flash lit the street, then a pulse of sound followed, so loud it blew them off their feet. Debris rained down from above. Just as the first of the crowd regained their feet a second, louder blast felled them again; then before they could do anything other than curl up, hands over their ears, a third explosion seemed to lift the very skin from the earth.

Indrett hauled herself to her feet, using a doorframe for support. The explosions had blown her across the street, where she fetched up against a tenement. Her left side hurt, her lip bled where she had bitten it involuntarily, and her ears rang so she could hear nothing else. Even so, her first thought was for Mahnum, and for a few awful moments she could not find him.

Eventually she located

him lying with his legs in an open sewer, his torso half covered by the body of a man who had been pierced through by a piece of smouldering roofing timber. Mahnum groaned, coughed a little, then raised himself to his knees and retched.