Roger Taylor - Ibryen

The last thought brought a sudden purpose into her meandering. She must use this freedom, whatever its cause, to obtain a weapon for use against either herself or her enemy, as circumstances dictated.

She abandoned the kneeling figure and also her stealthy progress through the shadows, and continued along the corridor. When she reached the corner she slipped behind a shrouded statue and looked back. After a moment, the clerk glanced about nervously, then clambered to his feet and scurried off one hand stroking his hair repeatedly as if trying to dispel her touch.

Not minutes before, Jeyan had considered seeking his help, now she watched him leaving with scorn. It was these cravens and their ilk that sustained the Gevethen in power; they deserved no pity.

Turning from the retreating clerk she made to set off again. Closed doors lined the short gloomy corridor that she had turned into and a panelled wall sealed it. She hesitated. Guilt and painful memory filled her as, for a moment, she was back in the blind alley where she had been captured and the dogs slain. She was about to turn around and return the way she had come when a dark vertical line split the centre of the panelled wall and it began to move. The image made her catch her breath and threatened to disorient her until she realized that the end of the corridor was not in fact a wall, but a pair of doors, and that one of them was being opened. She edged back into the shadows again. Then someone was walking towards her. It was another clerk and he was engrossed in a sheaf of papers, holding them close to his face in an attempt to read them in the poor light. She let him pass unhindered and waited until he had gone from view before walking quickly to the double doors.

Pushing one of them open, she found herself in a broad hallway, and the silent stillness of the corridors she had been walking along vanished instantly. Servants, messengers, clerks, officials of all kinds were bustling around in great agitation.

Briefly she considered closing the door and fleeing back to her room, then the anger that had begun with the kneeling clerk, boiled up to fill her. Dancing attendance on your masters, are you? she thought bitterly as she looked out over the scene. Scurrying about like ants, keeping them secure in their power. Fearful for your little lives. I’ll teach you fear. I’ll grind your nest into dust.

She straightened up and entered the hallway.

The weaving streams and tides shifted and changed sharply as she entered, and the rumbling hubbub became sibilant with the whispered hiss of her name.

‘The Lord Counsellor!’

Those farthest away quickened their pace while those nearby stopped and fell to their knees. None met her gaze, which was as well, for they would have seen their worst fears reflected in it. Jeyan drew in the effect she was causing as though it were air to a drowning man. It fed her condemnation of these people and she relished it.

As her initial exultation faded however, she began to feel concerned by all the activity. It was not normal, she was sure. Even allowing for her presence, there was an unusual alarm and urgency in almost every face she looked at. And, excitement, she decided, puzzled. It must have something to do with the Gevethen’s encounter with Ibryen and their precipitate departure from her room – but what? She cast about for some semblance of a pattern in the movement, but nothing was immediately apparent, though she noted that a table at the far side of the hallway seemed to be some kind of a focal point. Slowly, and with wilful casualness, she moved towards it. It was manned by four obviously senior officials and, as she drew nearer, she noticed with pleasure the signs of distress and confusion amongst them. They were all abandoning their work and about to start pushing back their chairs prior to kneeling when a door behind them opened and a Guards’ officer emerged. It was Helsarn.

Jeyan recognized him immediately. The murderous killing fever that had been in full flow when she was captured rose undiminished, like hot bile, to mingle with the anger already swirling within her. Though she managed to keep her features motionless, her eyes betrayed her feelings and the officials dropped to their knees in an undignified scramble. Helsarn’s insides tightened into a freezing knot as Jeyan’s gaze struck him, but training and long-established habit carried him through the moment. He saluted smartly, then dropped down on to one knee and lowered his head in the formal obeisance adopted by the Guards.

It was some time before Jeyan could trust herself to speak. The upsurge of violent emotion had taken her completely unawares and she knew she must control it. Nothing was to be gained by going for the throat of this man in a blind fury.

‘Stand up, Commander,’ she said.

Helsarn rose up before her, stiff and unyielding. Being considerably taller it was an easy matter for him to keep his gaze from hers. He was glad of it for he was genuinely afraid. He had seen Jeyan at the heart of a terrible death struggle when he first encountered her and the subsequent knowledge that she had been a woman had frozen the memory in his mind. In common with anyone appointed to maintain civil order he knew that women, pushed beyond a certain point, were far more dangerous than men.

‘My knife, Commander,’ she said. ‘Return it.’ She spoke softly because her throat was so dry she was afraid her voice would crack. The effect however, was to make her presence even more menacing.

A memory of the gaping wound she had inflicted on the soldier who had captured her returned vividly to Helsarn. Others, ill-formed and vague, featuring the soldier’s lost companions hovered about it but he refused to pursue them. He clung to the simplest. What did she want her knife for? Hagen had never carried one, nor any personal weapon for that matter. The one answered the other. Hagen had died at her hands in front of hundreds of witnesses and she had been rewarded with his office; she obviously had no intention of suffering the same fate herself. But there were other problems. She had access to the Gevethen and she was patently unhinged. What if she turned the knife against them and it became known that he had given it to her? Yet he could not disobey a direct order. He prevaricated.

‘As you command, Lord Counsellor,’ he said. ‘But the mobilization? I can’t leave my post here. Their Excellencies have ordered that nothing is to impede the full levying of the army and the Guards – not even our sleep.’ He risked a rapid but significant movement of his eyes towards the officials cringing behind the table.

Full levying of the army and the Guards! The news struck her like a plunge into cold water, and the fiery rage that had carried her this far vanished to become a renewed concern for the Count. This surely boded no good for him. She had to force herself not to respond. Change was afoot. Rapid change, full of opportunity. She must find out what was happening, and as quickly as possible before the leash she was stretching pulled her back.

She deliberately ignored Helsarn’s mute appeal on behalf of the officials but silently motioned him back to the door through which he had just come. He held it open for her. It revealed a scene not very different from the one in the hallway, though the room was smaller and here the scurrying figures were all army and Guards officers except for a few who were obviously messengers. She hesitated, her faith in the new-found power of her office faltering before the experience of years of avoiding soldiers and Guards on the streets of Dirynhald when she was scavenging for food. The room had become suddenly still, as everyone present stopped their work and saluted.

Helsarn’s words came back to her. ‘Nothing is to impede…’ She had a vision of the Gevethen suddenly appearing and striking her down for this interference with their orders.