Roger Taylor - Ibryen

Questions formed in Helsarn’s mind, but he did not voice them. ‘As you command, Excellencies,’ he replied.

The eyes turned towards him, as did rank upon rank of others, motionless and staring. ‘It was pertinent that you who bore the awful burden of finding the Lord should attend these obsequies. That your tongue did not swell and choke you rather than bring such news to us speaks well of your courage and loyalty. We will question you later, Captain. And your men. And too, those others of our children who were present. Culprits must be found. Retribution administered as he would have wished. The disease that was the way of the Count Ibryen survives still, despite our blessed rule, and we must be ever vigilant in seeking it out. The perfection and order of true justice that Nesdiryn, and beyond, require, will elude us for ever while this corruption remains amongst us.’

Then the eyes were gone, and a limp hand was waving him away. The stretcher party needed no urging and, at his soft-spoken order, they formed up and marched from the Hall. Harik looked at the Gevethen then at Hagen’s body, then turned and left without waiting for a more formal dismissal.

The light in the corridor beyond the Hall, though dull, was almost dazzling after the oppressive gloom of the Watching Chamber, and it took Helsarn a few moments to adjust to his vision being free of the endless, shifting images.

Uncharacteristically, he dismissed the stretcher party with congratulations for their conduct in the Hall, albeit he ordered them to return to their quarters immediately, pending further orders.

Gidlon, pacing anxiously in the background, strode up to him as they left, but Helsarn turned first to Harik, just emerging from the Hall. Behind the Physician he could see the Gevethen and the mirror-bearers forming a tight circle about the corpse.

‘What about the body?’ he asked. ‘It can’t just be left there.’

Harik looked past him. ‘I know no more than you,’ he said coldly. ‘Doubtless if we’re required for anything we’ll be called.’

‘But… ’

Harik shrugged and strode off without comment. It seemed to Helsarn, staring after him, that the Physician’s stride was more urgent than usual. Whatever relationship he had with the Gevethen, he wanted to be away from this place as quickly as possible.

‘Captain!’ Gidlon’s hissed command ended Helsarn’s reverie. ‘What happened in there?’

Helsarn cast a quick glance at the door Guards and, motioning Gidlon to follow him, began walking back along the corridor. As they gradually moved towards the light, Helsarn told Gidlon all that had happened. When the tale was finished. Gidlon’s immediate comment was the same as Helsarn’s. ‘What about the body? It can’t be left there.’

And Helsarn’s reply was largely the same as Harik’s. He shrugged, as respectfully as he dared. ‘We’ll just have to wait Their Excellencies’ pleasure.’ He changed the subject; he had no desire to dwell further on what had happened in the Watching Chamber. ‘What orders did they give about the purging?’ he asked, seeking refuge in matters practical.

‘Full curfew with immediate effect. Although from what I’ve heard, there’s hardly anyone on the streets even now… everyone’s run for cover. And we’re to purge from that street as far as the Ennerhald.’

‘Do you want my Company out?’

Gidlon shook his head. ‘They might be needed for questioning. I don’t want them scattered all over the city when they’re asked for.’

They had reached the main door. The sky was still overcast, but Helsarn still had to screw up his eyes against the light. Although the rain had stopped, the courtyard was full of the sound of overflowing gutters and gullies. As they moved to the top of the steps, the Dohrum Bell began to peal again. As before, it tolled nine times. The sound shook the ground under the two men’s feet, and shivering concentric circles of agitation formed in the many puddles littering the courtyard.

Jeyan woke as she normally did – as soon as light began to appear. As usual, Assh and Frey were already awake. It had been a bad night, punctuated by periods of half-sleep, with her mind full of heart-wrenching memories of childhood and her parents. Fully awake, she would have fended off such visions as though they had been Citadel Guards, but caught thus, she was defenceless and was sorely hurt when morning came.

Throat tight, she lay for a while staring upwards, waiting for the pain to pass. In the low, early morning light, it was possible to make out marks on the ceiling that might be the remains of a painting – probably a cloudscape of some kind, she had decided once, though at times she thought she could also make out the lines of buildings and streets. In her sourer moments, she took them for stains caused by rainwater blown into the floors above through shattered windows.

Now, however, she saw nothing, for she was lingering still in her night thoughts, at once reluctant and desperate to leave, to close and bar again the door that separated her from her past.

As was often the case, the dogs determined the matter for her, Frey walking over and putting her muzzle wetly in her face. Jeyan swore at her and scrambled out of the disordered blankets. With a sudden rush, Frey pushed past her, plunging in search of a spider that had inadvertently scuttled out into the open during the disturbance. The impact tumbled Jeyan over on to her back and she swore again. Before she could sit up. Assh bounded over, tail wagging low along the floor. He stood looking down at her intently until she was obliged to wriggle out from under him. She had no sooner stood up however, than she flopped down on to a chair, her face wearily in her hands. She felt awful. A whirl of black humour came to her aid. Probably caught something off Hagen’s last breath, she thought. Someone as foul as him must surely be diseased through to his very heart. No normal person could do what he did without becoming so.

She looked down at her hands, half-expecting them to be stained where she had seized Hagen’s hair to yank his head back, or where his blood had splashed on her. There was nothing to be seen however, and such blood as had struck her had either washed off in the rain, or merged into the dirt-mottled background of her clothes.

Yet she was still uneasy. Everything after the killing should have been a song of triumph, but there was a strained quality to her. There was no true sense of release, of freedom. It worried her that the trembling that had suffused her yesterday still lingered, fluttering deep within her – it wasn’t as if it was the first time she had killed someone. And from time to time her hand still twitched as she recalled the impact of the blows she had struck.

She took out her knife and looked at it. As she held it, she began to feel quieter. Hagen was dead. Dead! And she had done it! The world could not be other than better for such a deed. True, others would probably follow in his steps – her lip curled as she recalled the names of her father’s erstwhile friends who had bowed before the Gevethen, pleading to serve – but none would ever again pass through the streets of the city with the aura of invulnerability that Hagen had exuded.

She pressed the knife into the table slowly. ‘Invulnerable,’ she said, laughing viciously. ‘Not while you’re flesh and blood. Not while there’s a joint in your armour. Not while someone can get within arm’s length of you.’

The last remains of her uneasiness disappeared under the clarion cry that now filled her. She was herself again. Her momentary weakness had been caused by those treacherous wakings in the night that had tried to take her back to a world long gone, and beyond any recalling. She twisted the knife, gouging a piece from the table as she dashed aside even the recollection. She must not allow herself to be so undermined. She had faced real dangers in her time and doubtless would again, especially after what she had done – it was ludicrous that she should risk being felled by a mere memory. She needed all her wits to be firmly secured in the present. Perhaps one day, when the Gevethen were destroyed, gentler times would come again, but she dismissed these thoughts as she had dismissed the others. Times past and times to come were of no value to her if they impaired what was here and now.