City of Masks (37 page)

She fell back again. Her eyes started to close, and her breath came in hoarse gulps.

Garet felt tears wetting his cheeks. He put a hand on her forehead and said, “Well killed, Bane.”

After one last, shuddering breath, she lay still.

As Garet stood and turned away, Branet took his place and knelt beside the bed. He repeated Garet’s words.

“Well killed, Bane.”

Others took up the praise, and Garet looked to the door to see Salick mouthing the words as she stood behind Bandat. He wiped his eyes and looked again, but she was gone.

“She told me the same tale about the demons, and she said she had been exiled,” Corix said. “For fighting demons. I could scarce believe her.”

“It is true. I forced her exile on the King,” Branet said. He looked down at his big hands resting on his knees. “It was ill done, but I feared losing our place in the city to the Masks.”

There was no reply from any of those present, though Relict put a hand on the Hallmaster’s shoulder.

Branet stood. “Perhaps we should pick a new Hallmaster for Shirath Banehall. I . . . I have made many mistakes.”

Trax rose, glaring at the Hallmaster over the body on the bed. “And what good would that do? It won’t help her,” he said, pointing down to Shirin’s still form. “It won’t help the city, and by Heaven, it won’t help me!”

Branet bristled a bit but subsided. “Trax, don’t you see, I’ve done a terrible thing.”

“As I did last winter, when I sided with the Duelists,” Trax said. “Until Garet and Salick snuck into the Palace to talk sense to me. I’ve had to live with that, Branet. I’ve had to live with lives lost just as you will, my friend. Don’t you think I wanted to crawl away and hide my shame? Well, I did. But I can’t, not if I want to save my city. You can be a better Hallmaster, Branet, if you understand that the Hall, the Palace, and even the stones of this city must protect those who live within it.”

At that, his shoulders dropped, and the King smiled. “Well, there’s a speech! But I mean every word of it. What do you say?”

Branet looked to where Tarix and Relict stood by the foot of the bed.

“Don’t look at me,” Relict said. “I never wanted to replace you, just to talk as we did in the old days.”

Tarix smiled. “You are our Hallmaster, Branet. Like the King says, you will get better. It’s like being a Bane; you have to learn while you’re doing it.”

“Harsh lessons,” said Corix, and she cocked an eyebrow at her fellow Hallmaster.

“Very well,” Branet said. He took a deep breath. “Bring all to the Dining Hall,” he said to the Reds crowding the Infirmary Room’s door. He looked down at the still form of Shirin.

“From Red down to Black Sash, everyone needs to hear this news.”

When they left, Banerict called his assistants to prepare the body for its last journey to the Temple and the burning grounds beyond the Wall.

THE TABLES WERE
filled with every Bane not on patrol and some who should have been, but weren’t. They strained to hear what the Old Torrick Hallmaster had to say, shushing each other if someone dared to gasp.

“The last was a Catcher,” Corix said. “I’d bloodied it, and the beast had knocked us about, but it stopped suddenly and turned away from us. A bad choice, since Cernot jumped on its back and drove his pick into its skull.”

Ratal looked at the Torrick Gold and spoke in a tone bordering on awe. “I want to try that,” he said.

“No,” Cernot replied, with some feeling, “you do not.”

Tarix shook her head. “Five demons in all, one after the other! But you were not attacked once you reached the wood lots?”

Corix nodded. She ran a hand through her grey hair. In Old Torrick, Garet had never seen the iron-willed woman look so . . . tired.

“When the Catcher turned, did you feel anything strange?” Relict asked.

Falor answered. She stood beside Ratal, one hand pressed to her side. “The fear shifted in some way, for a moment, but that was all.”

Branet nodded. “We felt, and experienced much the same several days ago. Garet here thinks the demons are someone else’s weapon, one that can be unleashed and then recalled.”

Corix looked at Garet a long time before speaking. “I remember you. You were a Black Sash. Why are you not in a Bane’s uniform?”

“He protects the city in a different way,” the King said. “We thank you, Hallmaster Corix, for you may have saved us all by bringing Shirin’s message. Well, Hallmaster Branet, why would so many of these beasts gather near the city but not attack?”

Branet shook his head. The other Reds did the same, for this was beyond belief.

Garet stepped forward. “I have an idea,” he said.

Trax smiled. “I’m shocked! What do you think is going on?”

Garet reddened a bit. The voices in the Hall stilled as every ear strained to hear him.

“I think they are gathering for a mass attack, fifty, maybe more demons, attacking all at once and overwhelming our Banes so that they can destroy the city.”

He stopped, for there was no chance of being heard. Protests erupted all around him, continuing until Branet’s bull voice shouted for quiet. “Enough! Let him speak.”

Garet looked at Corix. “Hallmaster Corix, you felt a mass of fear from several directions at once? What did you make of it?”

Corix nodded. “I thought much as you do, that there was a gathering of demons coming together towards Shirath. I didn’t believe we would survive to reach the city Walls.”

“Master!” squeaked Falor.

Ratal put a protective arm around her shoulders.

Tarix looked at Garet and said, “Why now? You argued that the single attacks of demons were enough to achieve their goal—locking us up within these city Walls.”

Garet held up a hand, and the crowd stilled. This was the moment when they would laugh at him or believe him. Part of him wanted the laughter, for silence would mean he was right.

“We are no longer locked up. Your Majesty, I must reveal your plans for the expansion to make my argument.”

Trax waved a languid hand at him, which Garet took as approval.

“Shirath is crowded. We all know that, but there are plans to expand the city or build a . . . companion city nearby. By doing this, we are proving to our enemy that we no longer just survive. We prosper and grow! That is why the Caller Demon was sent to us last year. That is why the attacks increased so recently. It was supposed to knock us back down, but whoever planned this did not expect the Masks to appear and help us kill them! That made our enemy change plans again. This is just their newest tactic, a mass assault.”

“Could it be done?” Kesla asked. She looked fitter than before, though Garet’s words had shaken her and left her pale.

“I believe it was done at least once before,” Garet said.

Into the ensuing silence, a new voice spoke. “On the road to Shirath, you asked about this.”

Garet turned to see Salick step out from behind Vinir. He held his breath, not wishing to interrupt and end the moment.

Salick glanced at Branet and then back to Garet before she continued. “You asked Master Mandarack about Terrich, a big town or perhaps a city that once lay between Shirath and Old Torrick.”

Branet nodded. “It was wiped out by demons many centuries ago, for they fought with the other cities, and their Banes abandoned them.”

Tarix and many other Reds nodded at this.

Salick stepped forward, a very small step. “Garet asked the Master how many demons it would take to destroy a city, and why they didn’t move on to the other cities when they were done. At the time, we didn’t know that the beasts might hunt together, so I . . . did not listen to him,” she said, and looked at the floor. When she looked up, it was possible the corners of her lips twitched a bit.

Vinir grabbed her in a one-armed hug.

While the Reds discussed this bit of history, the cooks brought food and drink in for a very late second dinner or a very early first breakfast. Those who had bothered to learn anything about Terrich became the objects of attention at their table.

There was a commotion at the door, and Marick and Dorict came running into the Dining Hall. They skidded to a stop in front of Garet.

“Claws, it’s true!” Marick said. He gasped for breath, and Dorict took up their tale.

“We went north on borrowed horses, though we had to leave them in the orchards. They wouldn’t go any farther, and I don’t blame them.”

Marick recovered enough to interrupt. “There’s a mountain of fear out there, beyond the wood fields.”

“Lots,” Dorict said. “Wood lots.”

Marick grimaced. “You might as well call them fear lots now, for the feel of them. We saw no demons, but there must be a great party of them out in the wilds! It’s as if Birat’s necklace hung from every tree!”

Trax grimaced. The centuries-old tale of a necklace made of demon jewels was known by all in the city, and he himself had felt the hideous terror created by a box full of such jewels last year. It had sent him and his guards running back to the Palace when they had tried to enter the Banehall by force.

“What can we do?” someone in the Hall shouted, and the question carried to a hundred voices and then more.

“We fight!” Branet shouted, and the Banes shouted back, the noise echoing and growing until the dust shook off the rafters.

When the noise had died again, Branet called to the Reds. “We need field patrols to alert us if they begin their attack. Those who have not rested, go and try to find some sleep now. We must devise a strategy, for fifty demons climbing over Heaven knows how many spots on the Walls will be impossible to stop.”

“Meet them in the fields,” Tarix said.

Chovan nodded. “We’ll save more people that way, though we may lose many more Banes.”

The King shook his head. “You are the demon experts, but how do you intend to convince them to come to a certain place to meet your courage?”

Marick tugged the King’s brocaded sleeve. His Majesty looked down into the grinning face of the Blue Sash.

“Leave that to us. Demons forget everything else when a meal is running in front of them,” he said.

Trax frowned. “But it’s no good if the meal gets caught and eaten up before it reaches the other Banes.”

Marick bowed. “But Your Majesty, I never get caught.”

Trax shook his head and turned away. Marick felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Corix looking down at him, her expression as unyielding as he remembered from his days at Old Torrick Banehall.

“I caught you once,” she said. “What makes you think those demons won’t?”

Marick looked up into those steely eyes and grinned even wider. “Demons don’t cheat, Corix. You didn’t play fair that night. You gave me a choice.”

It was the first time Marick had ever seen the Red smile. He shuddered. After that, the idea of playing catch-me with a bunch of monsters didn’t seem so bad.

“
I WONDER HOW
long we have,” Branet said. He moved aside as a heavy wagon rumbled out of the Fourth Ward Gates behind him. Around the Hallmaster and his companion, every available worker in the city was digging, moving stone, or cutting timber.

“A day or two more, I would guess,” Trax replied. “Herding demons can’t be as easy as herding cows, after all.”

Branet snorted. “And what would you know about either, Your Majesty?”

Trax shrugged. Another wagon went by, and the King grabbed the lead horse’s bit strap when it reared at the noise of hundreds of hammers and saws. He pulled it down, and then led it on until they reached a stone bridge. When he gave control back over to the driver, she nervously mumbled her thanks.

Brushing the dust off his golden sleeves, he turned to Branet, who had followed him.

“My father was a man of practicalities, Hallmaster,” he said. “When I was a child, he sent me out to work in each Ward for a moon. I learned cow-herding, horse-wrangling, even pottery and baking, though I’ll admit the last two tasted about the same.”

Branet smiled in spite of himself. “Well, Shirath’s first Bane was a baker, so I’ll hope you’re right. I, too, think that herding demons must have some difficulties, fatal ones, I hope!”

“
HOW MUCH BLOOD
was there?” Tarix asked. She and the Old Torrick Master were moving down the line of Black Sashes, adjusting the height of their cut-down spears.

“Step forward and thrust low!” Corix shouted. They watched as the line stepped, pierced an imaginary and very small enemy.

“Faster, Rat Demons are quick. Now toss!” Tarix said, and the spears flipped up as the imaginary threat flew away to an invisible fate.

“A single person’s stock of blood, or so I judged. No more, but no less, so it wasn’t Shirin’s—or at least not all of it. After we found her, I backtracked a bit to see where she’d come from. I found the blood, broken and spent arrows, and several demons sniffing about in the woods. But none of them seemed badly wounded.”