Roger Taylor: The waking of Orthlund

As the thought came to him, he caught Urssain’s eye. Will you be next, Commander? was the message he sent. Will you serve him as I have and end thus? At his whim? No longer needed?

Urssain hesitated. ‘Ffyrst, may I speak?’ he said softly to his burden.

Irritably, Dan-Tor inclined his head. Urssain nodded to the other trooper to dismiss, and taking Dan-Tor’s full weight turned him gently away from the kneeling figure.

‘Ffyrst,’ he said, his voice low so that only Dan-Tor could hear him. ‘After today the men will be stretched to the limit just to keep public order. Large tracts of the City have been razed. The disruption to the normal life of the City will be enormous and will provide all manner of opportunities for malcontents to foment trouble. We had to bring men in for the arrest of Eldric and now they’ll have to stay until some semblance of normality is restored.’ Dan-Tor frowned, though whether it was at his remarks or at some pain, Urssain could not judge. He pressed on. ‘Dilrap understands the people and their ways. He also understands the detailed administration of the Palace and the City. For all his faults, it will be virtually impossible to find a replacement who’s remotely as able. We have none, save yourself, and your efforts should be bent to dealing with the rebels in the east… ’ Then, almost whispering, ‘and your greater design.’

Dan-Tor was silent for a moment. ‘Will you not obey my order, Commander?’ he said eventually.

Urssain quailed at the soft menace in the voice. ‘Ffyrst. I’m nothing without your favour. All I have is yours. I try to serve you and I’ll do anything you tell me to. But we have difficult problems ahead in the immedi-ate future: why not let Dilrap carry some of the odium that solving them will produce?’

Dan-Tor nodded slowly. Urssain’s crawling fear for his own ultimate fate was apparent in his every movement, but his comments were logical. This had been a day of great progress, though at what risk and at what cost? He was burdened with a twofold anger: that his plans had been so jeopardized, and that it was this selfsame anger that had so marred his judgement. What had prompted him to respond to that cursed bird’s ancient taunt? If he had not tried to strike it, Hawklan would not have attacked him, and…

Angrily, he dismissed the circling and fruitless re-proaches, though he knew they would return to haunt him repeatedly. They would burden him as surely as this arrow in his side, as did those for the folly he had committed on the sunlit green at Pedhavin when he had succumbed to the vanity that he might bind the dormant Ethriss.

His only solace was that whatever that green-eyed abomination was, he had come from Anderras Darion, and where the shadow of that sink-hole fell, so His writ ran false, and His servants were deceived. The place was an aberration. Suffice it that the deed was done now. The Old Power had been both used and defied, and Ethriss had not arisen to strike him down effortlessly before turning to his real foe. As his reward for his wanton impetuosity however, he was impaled now on this accursed arrow until He chose to remove it.

Your wisdom and mercy are without bounds, Mas-ter, Dan-Tor intoned inwardly, lifting his hand to his side again. The words showed him another truth; the pain of the arrow would after all be a second solace to him. It was a measure of his worth that He had not destroyed him utterly in His cold fury.

Or could it be that He too had been afraid of what Hawklan might be? Afraid to use the Power that was His? Dan-Tor stretched up suddenly so that his pain would at once obliterate and atone for such a blas-phemy.

Urssain started at the sudden movement. ‘Ffyrst?’ he gasped, his eyes wide and fearful.

Dan-Tor turned to him. He too must remember the value of his servants. They were the carefully honed cutting edge of his will. They could be punished when they did not cut true but they should not be needlessly squandered. His desire to slaughter Dilrap for the petty irritations that his help had entailed was yet another reminder of the spiteful residue of his humanity. Who could foretell what consequences might ensue from pandering again to a whim arising from so flawed a source?

Urssain too should be encouraged to follow willingly the paths of power and ambition that he could see opening before him in today’s events. One day, Urssain, you will be to me as I am to Him, Dan-Tor mused, and each step will make your ultimate binding easier. An act of petty spleen now, however, could make him reluctant to venture forward; could divert his talents into caution and self-protective conspiracy and that would serve no useful purpose.

A whisper of doubt, however, still lingered around the fate of Dilrap. The man’s true self was permanently hidden in a miasma of terror; part of him was inaccessi-ble and therefore dangerous. Dan-Tor rejected the thought. There could be little at the heart of such a creature, and should he prove worthless or treacherous, he was neither warrior nor leader; none would flock to his banner and he could easily be dealt with at any time.

‘Thank you for your guidance, Commander,’ he said. ‘I spoke in my pain. You’re right. A good servant should not be used thus. Take Dilrap and use him. I must retire to my quarters and attend to my wound.’

Urssain bowed and then signalled to two of his men. As they moved forward to support the injured Ffyrst, he waved them away.

‘Shall I send the healers to you, Ffyrst?’ Urssain asked, seemingly concerned.

‘No,’ replied Dan-Tor. For a moment Urssain saw the Ffyrst’s eyes flicker red like an ominous sunrise, and he seemed to feel a rumble of distant thunder. But the instant passed almost before he could register it, and Dan-Tor was continuing. ‘I know the nature of my injury only too well, Commander, and only I can tend it. You tend the injury to the City that that… Orthlundyn has wrought. We must have order again. We have new plans to make.’

Turning, he moved slowly towards one of the side doors to the Throne Room. Urssain snapped to attention as did all the other Mathidrin. Dilrap rose unsteadily and a deep silence descended on the room, broken only by the soft hiss of the Ffyrst’s robes as he made his laboured progress across the hall.

Through the open doorway of the main entrance came a soft and unexpected stirring as an eddy from the wind outside found itself wandering the palace corri-dors in search of escape. Dilrap felt it cool and fresh on his cheek, though his robes were pressed cold against his back. Then the noise of a distant door slamming shut reverberated through the hall, and the breeze was gone.

No one moved.

Briefly a shaft of sunlight shone brightly through the large window at the end of the hall. It fell on Dan-Tor’s retreating figure like a warning finger. He stopped and turned again to Urssain. ‘Before all other things, Commander, find me that man’s body.’ Then the sunlight was gone and Dan-Tor finished his journey to the door in dusty shade. As he slipped from view it seemed as though the whole room breathed out in release.

Relaxing, Urssain looked around, his face wrinkled with distaste. ‘Get this mess cleaned up, and quickly,’ he shouted to a Sirshiant. ‘Then seal the room and put a guard on the Ffyrst’s room. There could be all manner of people wandering the Palace.’ Then, more softly, looking significantly at the man:

‘And remind these… ’ His glance took in the wait-ing Mathidrin, ‘of the life enhancing value of silence, until I have the chance to talk to them properly.’ The Sirshiant saluted and Urssain turned towards Dilrap.

As he approached the Secretary, he noted his strange expression and oddly still posture. He paused. Dilrap did not know what had passed between him and Dan-Tor and would still be expecting summary execution. Urssain had seen what cornered men could do before now and he lifted a hand in reassurance before he came too close. He had no desire to cut down the Secretary in self-defence after having taken such risks to keep him alive.