Michael Stackpole - Chartomancy

“How is it possible?”

She released him and laughed. “What, Keles? That I’m alive, or I know Jasai?”

“Alive; both.”

Rekarafi growled and sniffed the air. “They’re of the same blood, Keles. And now we have to move or we shall die.”

“Right, right.”

They ran to the garden’s west wall. The Viruk boosted Keles to the top and he leaped down easily. Tyressa came next and tossed him her spear before she leaped to the ground. Lastly, Rekarafi reached the top of the wall with Jasai in his arms.

“Careful, she’s pregnant.”

The Viruk sniffed again. “I know.” He leaped down effortlessly, then they all started running west. Quickly, they merged with a throng of terrified citizens. Mothers clasped wailing infants to their breast, while toddlers screamed for lost parents. Tired old men and women ushered along grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Keles and his group passed through them quickly, more by dint of the fact that they were in their prime than that they had the Princess or a Viruk with them-though neither fact went without notice.

The crowd’s progress slowed, then stopped, but Keles forced his way through to the front. The road had been blocked with two overturned wagons, and men with spears and swords kept the crowd at bay. Across the road lay the walled compound of the Ministry of National Unity. Guards patrolled the walls, and a couple of bleeding corpses provided stark evidence of how serious they were about not giving anyone sanctuary.

Keles pointed at one of the guards. “I’m Keles Anturasi. I want to talk to Grand Minister Rislet Peyt immediately.”

The man sneered at him. “You’re the fifth Anturasi we’ve had here tonight. Go away.”

Jasai stepped up beside Keles. She pointed to the man standing in the first guard’s shadow. “I am Princess Jasai. Slay him.”

A sword cleared scabbard, but the first man dropped to his knees and bowed low. “Forgive me, Princess, I did not see you.”

“You should have opened your eyes.” She nodded to the man with the drawn sword. “Bring me Rislet Peyt, or his head, whichever is most convenient.” She stepped forward, resting her foot on the bowing man’s head. “Hurry.”

Keles looked from her to a smiling Tyressa. “Sister?”

“Niece, but I taught her a great deal.”

“I see.”

Rislet Peyt appeared on a balcony overlooking the intersection. “I regret I cannot receive you, Princess. The omens are inauspicious.”

“I understand that, Grand Minister.” Jasai raised her voice and chin at the same time. “I just wanted to thank you for the lend of your personal troops. If you survive the invasion, I shall return them to you, and praise their efforts to my husband.”

“You can’t take them.”

“You’ll have to come down here and stop me.” She shifted her foot, hooked it beneath the bowing man’s shoulder, and toed him back onto his heels. “Right these wagons, load those who can’t walk, and get your people out here. We’re going west and getting out of the city. Now!”

“Yes, Highness.”

“No! Do not move,” Rislet countermanded.

Jasai pointed back toward the fires in the east. “I guarantee you will die here if you don’t move. By the invaders or my hand, your choice. The Grand Minister cannot save himself, and he certainly can’t harm anyone who joins me.”

“Yes, Highness.” The man stood and issued orders. Guards left their posts and could not be lured back no matter the curses or rewards Peyt offered. They opened the gates and once the wagons were on their wheels again, they hitched teams of horses to them. A bunch of the guards drifted off into the darkness, but quickly returned with their own families.

Once the way had been cleared, most of the people continued on toward Westgate. A few did enter the ministry compound, but quickly abandoned it again when Peyt and his senior officials hustled out and joined the throng.

Tyressa grabbed Jasai by the wrist. “We have to go.”

“I know, just a minute more.” Her voice dropped. “They’re taking heart from my presence. I have to give them that, because if I don’t, they won’t make it.”

A low rumbling thunder came from the east. It took Keles a minute to identify it as the tramping of booted feet. He ran quickly to the ministry compound and mounted the wall to give himself more perspective. He stared, barely believing what he saw.

Warriors were walking nine abreast, in ranks nine deep. They came down the road, working west, always west. At any crossroads, the first squad turned north, the second south. Odd and even they split and walked to the next intersection. There they turned back west, and at the next toward the middle again. Once they returned to that original intersection, then crossed it and the process began again.

Throughout the city, squads moved that way, searching, ever searching. Behind them, moving through the city in much the same way, other squads put the city to the torch. Block by block, Felarati burned.

And they’re searching for me. He had no doubt that his grandfather had sent the fleet, both to find him and to punish Felarati. To punish anyone who ever defied him.

Across the intersection, one of the monkey-things crouched like a furred gargoyle. It pointed a slender arm in his direction, then began hooting, punctuated with a screech. And back along the street, a company stopped. The squads that had already turned away spun about and rejoined the formation marching west. As one the soldiers drew their swords.

The stragglers screamed and began ducking into alleys and buildings. The invaders ignored them, but when the monkey’s hooting grew louder and faster, the soldiers began trotting. And when they charge, they will slaughter everyone in their way.

One of the ministry guards silenced the monkey with an arrow. For a moment the invaders faltered and then they started to run. Swords rose and fell. Peasants screamed and reeled away, clutching severed limbs or split faces. The invaders slew everyone in their path as if merely clearing foliage.

The press of refugees slowed them slightly, then the ministry guards countercharged. Their archers shot true and well, dropping the short, thick invaders. The spearmen ran them through and kept pushing, knocking front ranks into back. They looked as if they might succeed in forcing the invaders to retreat, but other companies came at a run, some directly and others fanning out to flank the defenders.

Rekarafi waved Keles down from the wall. “We have to go.”

The cartographer fled the compound and raced along the street, with the ministry warriors forming a rear guard for the column. He caught up with Tyressa and grabbed her arm.

“They’re looking for me. If I give up, they’ll let everyone else go.”

Tyressa shook her head. “Rekarafi and I did not cross half the world to give you up. Besides that, you’re wrong.” She pointed to the lurid flames spreading in the east. “If all they wanted was you, they would have made demands before they started burning things. They may want you, but whoever sent them also issued orders that Felarati must die.”

Keles nodded. My grandfather would do that. If he sent them to res-cue me, he would send them to punish Pyrust for being arrogant enough to take me prisoner.

Keles looked back and watched his work burn. “My grandfather did this.”

Tyressa looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “How is that possible? I don’t recognize the warriors or their insignia.”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand it.” Keles shook his head. “And unless we can figure it out, I don’t know how we can stop them.”

7th day, Planting Season, Year of the Rat