The Starfall Knight (22 page)

“What is it now?”  Councillor Arnst turned around with a snarl.  “Oh, Ranger Devan.  This is unexpected.”

“Councillor.”  Devan produced the sealed scroll and gestured to Captain Marzell, seated at the far end of the conference table.  “Captain, I’ve been informed that you are acting Marshal.”

“Yes, ranger – I am.  Is that for me?”

“For Marshal Jarrell,” Devan said, “but I defer to you.”  He stepped around a pile of tomes, aware of the gazes following him.  Devan handed the parchment to Marzell, who tore it open and read it.

“Saruwa is a feint,” Marzell said.

“A feint?  For what purpose?” Councillor Arnst said.

“The obvious reason is the assault on Masteney,” Marzell replied.  “Ranger Devan, how did the soldiers fare when you saw them?”

“They were well,” Devan said.  “There was no word from the rangers.”

Marzell placed the message on the table and steepled her fingers.  The Councillors and masters fell silent.

“Captain?” Councillor Marwin said.  He ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“We have vastly underestimated the strength of these Dwerians – I mean, Sirinese.”  Marzell shook her head.  “We thought that they were like us – a community with a protective force, albeit as uncouth as we have seen so far.  But they are not farmers or merchants or young families.  The men, the women, the children – they are marauders through and through.”

“They are Sirinese,” Devan said.  “They live only for slaughter and spoils.”

“If only we had known,” Marzell said.  “They sent forces to harry at our western lands and Saruwa.  We did not think they had more warriors to spare against Masteney, not for an aerock their size.”

“How many were sent to Masteney?” Councillor Arnst said.

“One company,” Marzell said.  “A hundred soldiers.”

“Marshal Jarrell rode with them, didn't he?” Devan asked.

Marzell nodded.  “I fear his thirst for glory may have clouded his judgment.”

“Captain, you need to send more soldiers!”

“I will, though I fear the fate of Marshal Jarrell and his company is sealed.”

Tarius gestured to the leather armchair and Alessa sat down.  When she had first been invited into Tarius' sitting room, she was almost overwhelmed by the opulence of his furnishings but since she had experienced the hospitality of the Centaran Council, Alessa did not need to feign disinterest.

“Your raid was a success,” Tarius said.  He poured red wine into goblets.  “You have my congratulations.”

“Thank you, Imperator.”  Alessa accepted the goblet and sipped.  She had tasted better from Centaran street vendors.  “What of the squads who remain on Centara?”

“They will make their way back,” Tarius said.  “If they do not, then we have filtered the weak from the deserving.”  He sat in the chair opposite Alessa and leaned on the arm-rest.  “You are not happy that I sent Leonus in your place?”

“No.  The raid was mine.  It was my victory.  It should be mine to command.”

Tarius nodded but did not reply.  He swished around his goblet and sniffed the wine with a deep breath.  Tarius placed the goblet on a side-table and said, “Do you know why we persevere on this aerock?  Why shouldn't we move our people to Masteney and cut it loose?”

“I don't know, Imperator, though I've often wondered.”

“What would happen if the youngsters discovered that they could grow their own food?  Brew their own ale?  All without risking much more than tired muscles and pre-dawn labour.”

“They might choose it willingly.”

“Aye, they might.  In fact, I know that they would.”

“It's happened before?”

Tarius nodded.  “Many times, Alessa.  The last was – I don't know.  Perhaps even before you were born.  But now, I've presided over a generation of Sirinese who have known nothing other than this aerock, this life.  I think they would outnumber the rest of us.”

“What does it do for you?”

“A large number who owe allegiance to me, and who don't know any other life.”

“You control them,” Alessa said.

“Yes.  And with your help and your knowledge, one day we will move from this pebble of an aerock.”

“But not Masteney?”

“No.  Not just yet.”

A knock sounded at the door.  “Imperator Tarius?”

“What is it?"

The door opened and a thrasher peered inside.  "Your share of the spoils, Imperator.  Leonus insists that you examine them for yourself."

Tarius waved away the thrasher.  To Alessa, he said, "I must cut short this celebration, Alessa."

"I understand."  Alessa gulped the remainder of the wine and extended a hand to Tarius.  He gripped her wrist with a calloused hand.  The burn scars on his forearm rippled.

"Please return in the morning," Tarius said.  "We will speak more about the plans for this aerock.  Masteney as well."

"Yes, Imperator.  Thank you."  Alessa bowed at the neck and headed to the door.  As she exited the cabin, Grunos led a pair of thrashers carrying a sealed wooden box the size of Tarius' leather chairs.  Perhaps he was adding to his collection.

Grunos nodded at Alessa as they entered the cabin.  She paused.  The thrashers waddled with the weight of the box, tendons straining in their necks and shoulders.  Alessa turned back to the dirt road, wary of Tarius' sentries posted at the smithy.  She headed towards her father's shack but as soon as she entered the gloom of the packed shanties, Alessa dipped between them and doubled back to Tarius' cabin.

Rot and excrement covered the back-paths of Sirinis.  Alessa's every step squelched into the mud, every movement exposing a new array of noisome odours.  Alessa crept onwards with a gauntlet over her nose.  With half of Sirinis' fighting force on Masteney, she would be able to reach the rear of Tarius' cabin undetected.

Alessa halted at the edge of the clearing that surrounded Tarius' cabin and smithy.  The barren earth smelled as fresh as roses.  Alessa peered across the gap, a stone's throw separating her from the cabin.  Through the windows, Alessa spied Grunos milling around the sitting room while Tarius examined the box.  Alessa couldn't see the contents from her low vantage point.  She crept to the nearest tree, a stark pine devoid of life.

Alessa shrugged off her armour, boots and gauntlets, once more feeling like a child.  She reached for the lowest branch of the tree and clambered up, level by level, wary of every scrape and hiss of clothing against bark.  She suppressed her grunts as her arms and shoulders tired.  A pause as a sentry patrolled down the main path from the cabin.

The thrasher wandered into the labyrinth of shanties and Alessa continued her climb.  She reached a branch level with the cabin's roof and peered through the sitting room window.

Tarius had lied but that alone did not disappoint Alessa.  She wondered, however, what other plans and squads Tarius kept secret.  What game was he playing?

Alessa rested in the tree, no longer interested in Tarius as he pawed through the box.  The leader of the Sirinese tore a metal gauntlet from a dessicated hand.

Though Tarius had decried it as mummified crap, he had stolen the Starfall Knight.

Chapter Ten

Professor Amara flung open the doors to the laboratory.  Work benches lined the sides of the room while a pair of metal examination tables dominated the centre.  Amara ushered Devan and Benton inside.

“Do you notice anything different?”

“No,” Devan said.  He shared a glance with Benton, who shrugged.

“Apologies, Professor Amara,” Benton said, “but it doesn’t seem that anything has changed.”

“Truly?” Amara asked.  She swept an arm towards an empty examination table.  “Anything?”

“The knight?” Devan said.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Apologies.  I last saw the knight in the amphitheatre.  I did not know she was still here.”

Amara nodded.  “We were still studying the body as well as her belongings.  Be that as it may, she’s gone.  Not just the body.  The armour, the journal and the knick-knacks from the compartments.  All gone!”

Benton paced around the laboratory.  “Have you informed the city guards?”

“Of course,” Amara said.  “They’re next to useless.  No one saw anything untoward and they don’t know what to do.”

“What can we do?”

“I don’t know!  But since your squad brought in the knight, I thought you could do something about it.”

“Strictly speaking, it’s not our jurisdiction,” Benton said.  “But I do feel slighted that someone thought to steal the knight.  Don’t you, Devan?”

Devan snapped from his reverie; the laboratory was so clean.  “Yes, I feel your loss, Professor.  Have you spoken with other faculty members?  Perhaps someone borrowed the knight?”

“No,” Amara said.  She sat on a stool and sighed.  “No one knows anything.  All requests for access go through Conrick, Orval and me.”

“And the last time you saw the body was?”

“A couple days ago, before the raids and all that trouble.  So much chaos.”  Amara straightened on her stool.  “You don’t think those Sirinese could have stolen it?”

Benton crossed his arms as Devan said, “You said that the university was unusually busy in that time?”

“Lots of guards and soldiers,” Amara said.  “The southern walls provide a good view over the lower tiers and boroughs and our complex apparently makes for a useful staging area.  There were attacks in the middle and upper tier, targeting the merchants and not a few of the affluent mansions.  They had to protect the Rose too, for fear of gas.”

“The raiders did have a cache of Centaran gear,” Devan said.

“Aye.”  Benton planted a fist on one of the examination tables.  “If they stole the knight under disguise, they are long gone now.”

“But we know there’s only one place they could’ve gone.”

Before Benton could reply, a thunder of boots sounded outside the laboratory.  Amara furrowed her brows and muttered, “What in the moons is that racket?”

Devan cracked open the doors.  Soldiers stormed along the tiled corridor alongside physickers and their assistants.  The swordsmen bore stretchers between them, their injured comrades silent.  Blood stained the floor in streaked bootprints.

“Who was it?”

“Military,” Devan said.  “Bearing wounded.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Amara replied.  “The barracks are well-equipped for treatment and surgery.”  She hummed to herself.  “Unless, of course, the patients are prominent.”

“Marshal Jarrell,” Benton said.

“Moons above, I didn’t see much of him but he was in bad shape.”

Benton nodded.  “We should go.  I will have new orders, no doubt.”

“Very well,” Amara said.  She stood up and bowed at the neck.  “Thank you for your time.  I’ll speak with my colleagues and students to see if they have any more information.”

“That would be helpful,” Benton said.  “Farewell, Professor.”

Devan and Benton left Amara in the laboratory and headed for the building’s main doors.  As they walked along the passageway, Benton cast a surreptitious glance around.  “Devan, you need to be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that Romaine has accorded you some privileges.  More than a regular officer of the Marshal.”

Devan’s stomach lurched but he reminded himself that his own brother would not betray his secrets.  “How did you know?”

“It wasn’t a stretch of logic,” Benton replied.  “Moreover, I asked Romaine directly.  She didn’t have to say anything.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Of course not.”  Benton pushed open the building’s doors and they emerged onto the university’s natural science quadrangle.  Students wandered the paths while others lounged on the gardens in small groups.  “It’s about time that Romaine trusted you with something like this.  But I know her well.  She will ask you to look into the disappearance of the knight.”

“The Sirinese.”  Devan pursed his lips but the old knot of hate and anger was dormant.  “I suppose it will be dangerous.”

“Let us hope it will be so simple.”

“What do you mean?”

Benton slowed to a halt next to a planter box full of rose bushes.  “If the Sirinese stole the knight, it’s understandable.  They seek treasure and spoils to trade with other aerocks.  Greed is simple.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“I don’t know,” Benton said.  “The knight was Sirinese.  And if we can’t even guess why they’d steal the knight back, that alone scares me more than an army of Sirinese laying siege to the city.”

Tarius waved Alessa into the smithy’s open walls.  The forge glowed but was not heated to working temperature.  The simmering coals kept the sharp air at bay.

“Leave us,” Tarius said to his guards.  The thrashers nodded and retreated to the cabin.  Tarius gestured to a stool.  “Please, sit, Alessa.”

“Thank you.”

Tarius nudged a leather-bound journal from a bench and sat down.  All of his tools hung from their assigned hooks and shelves.  He had not been smithing.

“Is that a new book?” Alessa asked.  The cover was frayed and rotten in places but it never hurt to be polite.

“I’ve just discovered it,” Tarius said.  He picked up the journal and thumbed through it.  Alessa caught glimpses of diagrams and a tight script.  “It’s written in an archaic form of Sirinese.  Can you read it?”

Alessa leaned forward to an open page but the words were gibberish, even when she could decipher the writing itself.  “No, Imperator.  It’s almost another language.”

“It is essentially another language,” Tarius said.  “It’s an interesting account.  Almost biographical with ominous overtones, as if the author did not expect to live much longer than the completion of the last page.”

“That is strange.”

“It is.”  Tarius lingered on another page that depicted a set of orbs with various animals and creatures spewing from each one.  “Very strange.  But enough of this.”

“You wished to speak more of your plans.”

“Yes,” Tarius said.  “I know you wanted Masteney but put it from your mind.”

“You gave it Leonus when it was my victory!”

“Let him have his fun.  Him and his cronies.  We will not be long with Masteney.  Do you want dominion over something we shall soon abandon?”