Roger Taylor - Ibryen

Though the words were spoken simply and without rancour, Marris closed his eyes and turned away as if he had been winded.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, after a long silence. ‘I didn’t think.’ He shifted uneasily. ‘I started the day worried enough because the Count had wandered up on to the ridge in the dark – something he’s never felt the need to do before. Since then, confusion’s followed on confusion.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I was afraid.’

‘Ah.’ The Traveller breathed out the exclamation as if he were recognizing an old friend. He fiddled with the cloth in his ears. ‘Fear, everyone understands,’ he said. ‘It’s been a strange and difficult day for all of us, Corel Marris. I’d not expected to find myself cramped in a valley and involved in a war when I came across a stranger enjoying the morning sun. I was merely going to pass the time of day with a fellow traveller.’

The two men looked at one another in silence for a long time.

‘What would the dust know of the avalanche?’ Marris asked rhetorically.

The Traveller did not reply, but frowned and reached up to adjust the cloth in his ears again. ‘Someone’s whistling,’ he said. Both Ibryen and Marris stiffened. The Traveller looked up and pointed. ‘Over there. It’s getting closer.

With increasing concern the two men turned to follow his gaze. Almost immediately a faint, staccato whistling reached them. Ibryen straightened up and motioned the Traveller to follow him. ‘It’s the alarm,’ he said. ‘Someone’s approaching.’

Some instinct stopped Jeyan from reaching for her knife as she saw the three soldiers. Instead, she casually pulled her ragged jacket about her to ensure it remained out of sight. A picture of what must have happened formed in her mind in an instant. It was almost certain that those purging the city knew two dogs had played a part in the killing of Hagen. Even though she had seen people frantically fleeing the scene as she herself had fled, there would have been plenty present who would willingly have provided that information later. That, and the fact that it had been a lone assassin. So although small packs of death-pit dogs were not all that uncommon, and despite the mayhem that those two had wrought to this trio’s comrades, whoever was in charge had had wit enough at least to consider the possibility that perhaps the tower was occupied by more than them alone. He’d also had sufficient sense not to risk any more men on those narrow stairs.

She began to tremble again – a mixture of genuine terror and blazing fury at having allowed herself to be trapped. Her eyes flickered across the three men and their levelled swords. A sudden dash, low and fast between them and she could be away.

Perhaps.

But the men were watching her both intently and calmly, as though whatever she chose to do, they were a match for it. As well they might be, probably mistaking her for a scrawny youth. And they kept moving – as did their swords – not in a jerky and tense manner, betraying alarm, but almost relaxed. Gaps came and went, but the scrutiny never faltered.

She couldn’t do it! There was too much rubble and tangled foliage on the ground for her to risk scrambling between them, she told herself, but part of her knew that the moment for action had simply slipped from her and her fury flared anew.

But she had other resources, and when she spoke she lowered her voice slightly and slurred her words to make them difficult to understand. If they thought her a youth, so much the better, and it would be useful if they thought she was simple; heaven knew, there were enough such in the Ennerhald. She did not have to fake the tremor in her voice.

‘Have they gone? Have you killed them?’

‘What?’ said the nearest soldier, a large man wearing an insignia on his uniform that marked him out as some kind of leader. He leaned forward as he spoke, but did not lower his blade.

‘Have they gone? Have you killed them?’ she repeated. ‘The dogs.’ She made her eyes vacant and let her mouth drop open. ‘They chased me in here.’ She pointed shakily up the stairs and began to gabble. ‘I’d to go right to the top. I nearly fell through a hole in the floor. They ran off when you came. I heard a lot of noise. I was frightened.’

The men’s demeanour changed perceptibly, and they exchanged knowing glances, though they came no closer, nor conspicuously lessened their guard.

‘What would they be chasing a half-wit like you for?’ asked the leader.

‘For the bones probably,’ one of the others interjected, a stocky individual with broken and discoloured teeth that made him look peculiarly repellent. ‘There’s no meat on it.’

The others laughed unpleasantly.

‘You can’t get meat here, sirs,’ Jeyan started off again. ‘Not meat. I have to beg to eat, sirs. In the streets. The Guards allow it. I don’t bother anyone. But I’ve never had meat for a long time. People don’t give you meat – not fresh anyway. Sometimes there’s some around the stalls and at the back of the shops, when they can’t sell it. It’s not nice, but…’

‘Shut up,’ said the leader irritably. ‘Don’t speak unless you’re told to.’

‘No sir, I won’t. I won’t.’ She looked around anxiously. ‘Did you kill them? I heard a lot of noise. They were death-pit dogs, you know. When they bite you, they…’

‘I told you to shut up!’

Jeyan cowered, hands twitching to her head and face.

There was a brief consultation between the soldiers. ‘Is there anyone else up there?’ one of them asked. Jeyan shook her head dumbly. ‘Are you sure?’ She nodded.

There was more consultation. ‘Finish the damn thing off and let’s get out of here. They’re a pox, these people. This place needs a real cleaning out, it’s a cesspit.’

‘Maybe, but sooner you than me. It’s a big place and I wouldn’t fancy working round the pits. We’d better take this one in with the rest of the rubbish we’ve found down here; there’s no saying who’s checking up on us today. Let the officers sort out who’s who.’

‘Can I go now?’ Jeyan intervened.

The leader sheathed his sword and stepped towards her, his hand drawn back to strike her. She cowered again. He relented at the last moment and seized her arm instead.

‘You can go to the Citadel with the rest of your friends,’ he said, yanking her towards the doorway.

Jeyan dug her heels in and began wriggling fearfully. ‘No, no!’ she cried. ‘Have you killed them? I’m not going outside unless you’ve killed them. They chased me. They’re death-pit dogs. They’re…’ The soldier swore and tightened his grip about her arm. ‘You’re hurting. You’re hurting. Are they dead? Are they dead?’

The other soldiers were laughing at their comrade’s plight and, for a moment, Jeyan thought that he was going to lose his temper and start beating her. She lessened her struggling and began leaning on him.

‘Thump it for pity’s sake, and let’s get off.’

‘Yes, and you can carry it,’ retorted Jeyan’s assailant, transferring his anger to his adviser. ‘Come on, damn you,’ he said, returning to Jeyan. ‘It’s all right. We killed the dogs. They’re not there any more.’

‘Where are they?’

‘They’re outside. Come on.’ The last remark was accompanied by a violent jerk that pulled Jeyan off her feet. The others sheathed their swords and, still laughing, followed them out into the sunlight.

‘Where are they?’ Jeyan demanded, looking round anxiously. She began resisting again.

The leader stopped and made a pantomime of looking around. ‘Oh dear, they mustn’t have been as dead as we thought,’ he intoned to the increasing mirth of his friends. ‘Now come on!’ He swung his hand at Jeyan’s head, but in partly releasing her to do this she slipped away from him slightly and the blow barely caught her. She tumbled to the ground however, howling, thinking frantically how she could elude her captors now that she was out in the open.