Roger Taylor - The waking of Orthlund

‘Sir.’ Halson snapped to attention and his face went blank. That’s better, thought Dilrap. That the man had had the wit to retreat into his traditional emotionless Mathidrin shell showed at least that he was gaining control over himself.

‘Good,’ he said. Then signalling to Alaynor and the Captain to follow, he walked back to the palace entrance, the wind tugging at his robe, ‘Captain,’ he said. ‘I want you to send messengers to the Guild Master and the City Rede. Tell them that rescue operations are to be coordinated from here. Ask them to send their best people over together with any maps, plans, lists of craftsmen etc. Whatever they think will be useful.’ Halson nodded. ‘Just wait a moment,’ Dilrap added, looking purposefully around the palace entrance hall. ‘Alaynor, I’ll work from the Lords’ antechamber but we’ll need somewhere where the injured can be treated and where the lost and homeless can be fed and housed for a day or so… ’

‘The Old Kings’ Halls,’ Alaynor suggested. Dilrap nodded. ‘Yes, they’ll do. Gather up what servants you can find and make a start on that. Captain, send a couple of your men with her to help. They’re to do whatever she says,’ he emphasized.

Pausing to look at the disordered crowd outside, he frowned. ‘We have to get these people off the streets,’ he said, half to himself. ‘Captain, as soon as you’ve organized messengers and men for Alaynor. I want you to send out some of your men as Cryers to the main squares, or wherever there’s a large crowd. They’re to ask people amp;mdashask, mind you, not tell amp;mdashto go home unless they can help with the rescue work or with nursing the injured, in which case they’re to come here first. Tell them… bulletins will be posted here, and… ’ He waved his arms vaguely. ‘… the Guild Moot House and the Rede’s Hall as information comes to hand.’

Halson hesitated. ‘I’ll have to get mounted patrols to act as Cryers, sir. I’ve already had reports of troopers being attacked by the crowds.’

Dilrap looked thoughtful. Good for the crowds, he thought briefly, but he let the thought pass. He could relish it later. ‘If you go out mounted and in force it’ll turn chaos into mayhem,’ he said. Then in the wake of his first irreverent thought came a second one, appro-priate for the occasion and quite elegantly malevolent in character. ‘You should find some High Guard liveries in the Westerclave, Captain,’ he said. ‘Have your men wear those. Providing they keep their mouths shut and watch their manners they should be all right. Tell them to move at the double. That should avoid too many questions.’

Halson’s jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded reluc-tantly. Dilrap twisted the knife. ‘And don’t forget the Royal Sash,’ he added, ‘if they’re going to look like High Guards on palace duty.’

Dilrap looked up from the map spread out on the table as he heard the door slam. It was Urssain, and he was angry. For a moment Dilrap quailed inwardly at the sight, then he stood up and hitched his gown back on to his shoulder.

‘Excuse me,’ he said to the various people gathered round the table with him, ‘I’ll join you in a moment. Please carry on. You know what to do.’

Then he moved quickly to intercept the approaching Commander and, taking his elbow, deflected him into a side room.

‘What in thunder’s name are you doing, Dilrap?’ Urssain shouted as the door closed.

‘Doing?’ said Dilrap, wilfully innocent.

‘Commandeering my men,’ Urssain banged his chest in emphasis. ‘And dressing them up to look like High Guards.’

Dilrap was surprised at the belligerence of his own response. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m doing, Commander,’ he said in a vicious whisper. ‘I’m saving our necks, while you’re playing Mathidrin politics. And don’t shout. In case you didn’t notice, that’s the City Rede out there. And the Guild Master. And a cohort of their senior officials. The last thing they need to see now is us arguing and playing palace intrigue.’

Urssain clenched and unclenched his fist, but before he could speak, Dilrap continued, his voice still low as if for fear of eavesdroppers. ‘I know I need you more than you need me, Commander,’ he said. ‘I’m not stupid, and you’ve made it quite clear. But he … ’ The word was mouthed rather than spoken, and accompanied by a nervous look over his shoulder, ‘needs neither of us.’

Urssain opened his mouth to speak, but again Dil-rap forestalled him, his voice now urgent. ‘I know I wasn’t with him when all this happened, but I’ve looked into his eyes, Urssain. I don’t know who or what he is, but I know he could obliterate us with a mere thought if the whim took him. And this City in disarray could provoke just such a whim. He has power enough to control it without our help.’

Most of Urssain’s anger seemed to drain from him suddenly, though a growling residue remained.

‘You should’ve found me and asked,’ he said, almost sulkily. Dilrap straightened up, his face open and apologetic. ‘Commander, there wasn’t time,’ he said. ‘The situation was deteriorating by the minute. I had to act. I’m sorry I had to put your men in High Guard livery, but I had to get messages across the City and you know as well as I do they’d never have got through the streets otherwise.’

He stepped forward and took the Commander’s elbow again, confidentially. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘People won’t remember clearly out of all this confusion. And if they do, so what?’

Urssain’s lip curled as he weighed Dilrap’s com-ments. The man was right. There would be no future for him, perhaps of any kind, if he had to go running to Dan-Tor for help in quietening the City, and neither he nor the Mathidrin were remotely suited to dealing with this kind of emergency. True, Dilrap’s abrupt assump-tion of authority would cause some morale problems, but that he was capable of dealing with. Besides, the men had better be taught to treat the man with a little more respect if he was to do his job in future.

He nodded to himself. No harm was going to come of all this after all. Dilrap was proving to be more valuable than he had thought, but he mustn’t let him know it. He’d proved to be deceptively capable today; he could be dangerous if he developed any ambition other than that of staying alive.

Towards the end of the day, the wind fell and the sky cleared, allowing the setting sun to flood red through the streets. Long hazy shadows increased the alien strangeness of the City’s new appearance. Dilrap came out of the Lords’ ante-room and walked across to the main entrance. Dust grated under his feet. Standing at the top of the steps, he looked out again at the destruc-tion Oklar had wrought. His two new avenues were still bustling with desperate activity, but at least the panic and tumult had ceased and there was some aura of organization about the scene, albeit rough and ready.

Lines of torches had been rigged along both sides of each swathe, wandering indiscriminately through the sharp straight shadows cast by the setting sun. Where digging was continuing around individual buildings, the torches came together in tangled watchful clusters and together with the bobbing firefly lights of the torches carried by individuals, they gave the intense red twilight almost an air of Festival.

Looking up a little, Dilrap could see a clear evening sky as through a fine brown gauze. He wiped his mouth; he had been tasting dust all day. Just looking around the Palace told him it would be a long time before it was all removed, but seeing it hovering in the air made him think it might begrime the City forever.

He moved to one side to allow two of the Rede’s men to carry in a casualty. Would they never end? All these people crushed and maimed by falling masonry and panicking crowds. Halls throughout the city were full of the injured and the homeless. Alaynor had organized that magnificently, though Dilrap admitted guiltily to a twinge of regret that she had allocated one of the Kings’ Halls to the dying and the most severely injured.