Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

He made a note to make himself privy to any inves-tigations into this Orthlundyn ‘assassin’. It was like a thin thread of light in the darkness pervading his mind, and who knew where such a thread might lead?

A movement in the distance brought him out of his reverie. A ragged section of wall detached itself from a building and fell into Dan-Tor’s new formed gorge. Dilrap could not see whether it had fallen on anyone, but as the dust rose up and was caught by the wind, he heard the low rumble of the collapse, mingling with higher notes that could only have been screams. The sound added a quality to the scene that chilled him utterly and, as he listened, he felt an overwhelming urge to push his way through the crowd and start digging with his bare hands in the mounds of rubble. Involun-tarily he started forward, but he had barely reached the foot of the steps when he stopped and, with a grimace, bowed his head. This was not the way he could help. He had other skills.

As he paused, something ran into his legs. Looking down, he saw a small boy. Wide, lost eyes returned his gaze out of a grimy, tear-stained face. There was a smeared graze of dried blood running across the boy’s forehead. Too long the butt of palace children to have any great affection for them, Dilrap was taken aback by the feelings of compassion and pity that rose up inside him. He held out his hand, and the boy took it. ‘I’m lost,’ said the boy in a hoarse, dust-choked whisper.

Dilrap nodded understandingly and looked around through the turmoil for inspiration. The Mathidrin captain he had seen earlier pushed past him. Dilrap seized his arm.

‘Where’s Commander Urssain?’ he said without ceremony.

The man jerked his arm to release it, but Dilrap kept his grip, putting into it the purposefulness he had once felt in Sylvriss’s hands. ‘Honoured Secretary, I… ’ began the man, with scarcely contained impatience.

Dilrap cut across his protest. ‘Where’s Commander Urssain?’ he demanded again, pulling the reluctant arm towards him.

‘He’s in the Westerclave,’ replied the Captain, seeing no way to escape this fat clown immediately, and a little taken aback at the man’s unexpected strength.

‘Oh yes,’ said Dilrap slowly, allowing himself a con-spicuous note of contempt. ‘I remember; his meeting of Commanders and Captains… ’ Another figure bustling past caught his eye, a stocky middle-aged woman. ‘Alaynor!’ shouted Dilrap. The woman stopped. ‘Wait,’ said Dilrap to the Captain, as he released his arm and beckoned to the woman urgently.

Alaynor was responsible for most of the female servants in the palace. Dilrap rarely encountered her in his normal work but knew that she was held in great affection by most of her charges.

More to the point at the moment however, she was a level-headed and eminently practical person and no mean administrator. ‘Yes, Honoured Secretary,’ she said when she reached him, her face fraught and anxious. Dilrap saw that she too was struggling to remain in control of herself.

‘What are you doing?’ he said simply.

Her eyes became vague, and for a moment Dilrap thought she was going to slip into hysteria. The years of dealing calmly with all manner of crises asserted themselves however. ‘Floundering,’ she said bluntly.

Despite himself, Dilrap smiled. Turning to the Cap-tain he asked him the same question.

‘Organizing men to seal off the Palace and clear intruders out,’ was the impatient reply. ‘In between trying to find as many senior officers as I can for Commander Urssain… and answering your questions.’

He paused before the word ‘questions’ to make his disdain clearly felt, just short of outright insolence. Dilrap nodded and hitched his errant gown back on to his shoulder. Now he must take the first steps into his new future, using the lessons he had learnt at the hands of Dan-Tor.

He looked straight at the man. ‘Your name, Cap-tain?’ he said coldly.

‘Halson… Sir,’ replied the Captain, his confidence faltering slightly. ‘Third co… ’

Dilrap cut across him. ‘You’re seconded to my ser-vice, Captain Halson,’ he said. ‘Whatever men you’ve sent wandering round the Palace, get them back and assembled in the Lords’ ante-room at the double.’

Halson started. ‘But… Commander Urssain… ’ He waved vaguely at the crowds moving in and out of the main palace entrance. ‘And intruders… ’ The wind blew his hair in his face.

Dilrap had turned to Alaynor when he had finished speaking and, turning back to the Captain, he allowed himself an expression of dangerously mild patience.

‘I’ll attend to Commander Urssain, Captain,’ he said. ‘Don’t concern yourself. As for intruders, believe me, there’s little they could do in the Palace that would be worse than what’s already happened.’

‘But… ’

Dilrap’s expression became angry. ‘No buts, Cap-tain. Are you in the habit of questioning orders?’ He did not wait for a reply, but forged on. ‘As the King’s Secretary, and in the temporary absence of the Ffyrst, my authority overrides all others. You should know that, Captain.’ He emphasized the rank. ‘You may choose to waste time by seeking out Commander Urssain and debating the matter with him, if you wish, but it’s not in your best interests. Those are best served by looking to those people out there.’ He pointed through the gaping gateway. ‘And that’s best done by your obeying my orders right away. Is that clear?’

The Captain surrendered hesitantly after a moment and, saluting, made to move off up the steps towards the palace entrance.

Dilrap laid a hand on his arm. ‘Where are you go-ing?’ he asked quietly.

Halson looked at him uncertainly. ‘To find the men who’re checking the Palace, Honoured Secretary. As you asked.’

Dilrap sighed audibly and shook his head. Then, pointing casually in the direction of various Mathidrin troopers around the palace entrance, he said, with wilful patience. ‘Send them, Captain. You stay with me. We’ve got a lot to do.’

Colouring, Halson turned away and called out to the troopers that Dilrap had indicated… plus one or two others.

Dilrap looked down at the small boy and, smiling, gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. ‘We’ll look after you in a minute,’ he said. ‘Don’t be frightened.’

Turning again to Alaynor, he found her looking at him enigmatically, her eyes full of questions. ‘Later,’ he said in reply to her silent queries. The sound of Halson shouting orders too loudly at the troopers floated between them and slowly she raised an eyebrow in acceptance and approval.

‘What do want me to do, Honoured Secretary… Dilrap?’ she ventured.

‘What have you done so far?’ he replied.

‘Precious little,’ she said. ‘I think the Guilds and the Rede’s people are organizing rescue parties and setting up shelters for those people who’ve been hurt or lost their homes, but there doesn’t seem to be any overall control.’ She flicked a discreet and derisory thumb towards the returning Halson. ‘This lot are useless,’ she whispered. ‘Anything other than strutting and bullying and it’s beyond them.’

Dilrap acknowledged the comment with a brief nod but said nothing. Halson, still flushed, and slightly breathless, arrived back. ‘I’ve attended to that… sir,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know… ’ His manner was that of one about to disclaim responsibility, but he stopped in mid-sentence. Dilrap was quite surprised that his attempt at a menacing look should prove so effective.

‘I don’t want to have to tolerate any more of this reluctance on your part, Captain,’ he said. ‘It verges on insubordination. Confine your comments solely to practical matters that will help get this City back to normal.’