Part 23 (2/2)

He had the feeling that he was both winning and losing at the same time.

'I find it strange to imagine a country that's only farms, countryside and villages,' he said weakly.

Hawklan smiled. 'That probably means we're both victims of our histories,' he said. 'Tell me, how old is Vakloss?'

The Captain frowned. This man asked the strangest questions. 'I've no idea,' he replied. 'It's always been there.'

'Always?' said Hawklan, raising his eyebrows humorously and fixing the Captain with his green-eyed stare. The man avoided the gaze by looking back and rebuking one of his men for some non-existent offence.

'Always?' repeated Hawklan, turning to the front again.

The Captain looked embarra.s.sed. This man had an unnerving way of drawing confidences from people.

'Learning's not encouraged in the Mathidrin,' he said brusquely. 'And too close an interest in the past would be viewed very suspiciously. We're told it's just been one long tale of abuse of the people by the Lords and the Geadrol, and treachery against the Kings. It's our job to put it right, not debate it.'

Hawklan raised a placatory hand. 'Just an innocent question, Captain,' he said. 'It looks such a splendid sight I was naturally interested in who would build such a place.'

Mollified, the Captain volunteered, 'When I was a kid, they used to say it was built after the First Coming. I suppose that just means it's very old and no one really knows.'

Hawklan nodded. 'It's certainly very old, but . . .' his voice tailed off. A dark swirling and roaring surged round him and he heard a distant, failing, trumpet call. A sense of horror overwhelmed him and he felt a cry of unbearable despair forming inside him.

'But?' The Captain's voice brought him back to the day's suns.h.i.+ne.

Hawklan shook his head apologetically. 'Nothing,' he said.

Reining his horse back discreetly, the Captain fell behind Hawklan slightly, so that he could study him again.

Tall and straight, Hawklan rode his splendid black horse with an ease that the Captain had only seen before in Queen Sylvriss. He was relaxed and easy in everything he did and almost always good-humoured and acquiescent. But, nevertheless, he gave the impression of being very much his own man; una.s.sailable. And, deep inside, the Captain sensed that to provoke him to anger no, that somehow, would be unlikely but to provoke him to violence, would be to risk a very swift death. That bow. That sword. Those d.a.m.ned green eyes. The man gave him the creeps. It came to him abruptly that he had similar feelings when near the Lord Dan-Tor. He would be glad when he was back in the City.

Ambition or no, people like that were best avoided.

The Captain consoled himself with his a.s.sessment of Isloman. Big, powerful, easily a match for severalmen. Superficially affable, but with his eyes ever watchful and unable to hide their suspicion. Easier to provoke than his companion if need arose, Isloman was more . . . normal. That was it. He was more normal than Hawklan.

On the whole, he thought, he'd done the right thing giving them an escort and coming along himself. He couldn't see how any reproach could be levelled at him for that. If it transpired they were unimportant then he'd been sensibly cautious, while if they were important then his action would be duly noted.

Certainty, however, continued to elude him, and he eased his horse forward to come by Hawklan's side again. On reflection, he thought, the man's not quite like Dan-Tor. He'd helped two of the horses that went lame, and very effectively, too. And he'd pitched in with the work in their overnight camps. Then, of course, he's bound to behave like that if he's looking to make a favourable impression.

'What's that smoke, Captain?' Hawklan's voice broke into his reverie. s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his eyes against the summer glare, he followed Hawklan's extended arm. As if aspiring to join the soaring towers and spires of Vakloss, a single column of dense black smoke was rising from the City.

'A celebration perhaps?' offered Hawklan.

The Captain shook his head. 'No,' he said definitely. 'But I don't know what it is. Probably a house fire.'

'It's a big one, Captain,' said one of the men. 'Look how high it's going.'

The Captain nodded and then shrugged. 'Well, there's nothing we can do.' He laughed harshly. 'I'm sure someone knows it's there.' This shaft of wit seemed to go down well with the men but, as they rode on, the smoke grew more dense and all eyes were fastened on it.

The party became very quiet, disturbing the country stillness only with the sound of lightly treading hooves and the soft creak and clatter of tackle and arms. Abruptly, the rising column of smoke seemed to gather momentum and, disregarding the vagaries of the rooftop breezes, began to billow upwards relentlessly, until it was well above the Palace towers. Soon it was dominating the entire sky in front of them.

'That's no house fire,' someone said hoa.r.s.ely, mirroring all their thoughts.

Hawklan realized he was craning back his head to see the top of the column. Faintly a distant sound reached him. 'Quiet,' he said, raising his hand and reining his horse to a halt.

Without thinking, the Captain halted the troop as if the order had been pa.s.sed to him by a senior officer.

The group stood motionless and silent as if paying homage to the towering manifestation before them.

Across the intervening fields a confused jumble of sounds mingled with the birdsong and the hissing of the gently waving trees. Hawklan's hand remained in the air. Then, quite distinctly, the rapid tolling of a bell reached them. The urgency of its tone galvanized the Captain.

'It's the General Alarm,' he said, almost in disbelief. For an instant he looked fl.u.s.tered. He gave Hawklan and Isloman a worried look then, turning his horse around to face his men, he shouted, 'You three, no, you five, escort the envoys into Vakloss. Straight to the Palace and notify the Lord Dan-Tor of their arrival. The rest of you come with me at the gallop.' Then, to Hawklan, 'I'm sorry, but if the General Alarm's being sounded, something serious must've happened. We have to ride to it as fast as we can. These men will escort you safely to the Palace.' And then he was gone, together with the rest of hispatrol, leaving the seven men staring after them through the dust they were raising.

Hawklan looked round at his reduced entourage. The past few days had taught him a great deal about the Mathidrin and, sadly, this confirmed what he had learned from his encounter with Urssain and Aelang.

They were for the most part loutish and brutal, caring little for the animals they rode, nothing for the terrain they lived off, and precious little for the people they had encountered on their journey. Hawklan suspected that it was only his presence that had saved the animals and some of the villagers they had met from casual acts of gratuitous violence sadism even. Admittedly they were well disciplined, but it was a discipline patently derived from fear. Such glimmers of intelligence as he had seen were heavily larded with cunning and dedicated to self-interested opportunism. It had been hard to keep his feelings to himself. Now, he did not feel disposed to accept the authority of this frayed remnant.

'If that fire's as big as it looks, there'll be a lot of people hurt and needing help. Quickly now,' he said authoritatively. 'You two lead the way. Full gallop.' The men hesitated. Hawklan glared at them.

'Quickly, I said,' he repeated menacingly with a flick of his head in the direction of the City. He could almost see the men's reflexes crus.h.i.+ng their doubts. Fear is an important key with these people, Hawklan reminded himself again.

Sylvriss burst into the room unannounced. 'Lord Dan-Tor. What is this? What's happening?'

Dan-Tor, tall and very still, was standing at the window, staring out at the smoke rising high above the City. His gaze was baleful and, as he turned to face his Queen, a lingering residue of malevolence hung in his eyes like morning frost reluctant to obey the sun's bidding. Sylvriss almost started under the impact of this look, but neither her face nor her posture showed any sign of alarm. Resolutely she reminded herself that this was the true nature of the man, and she forgot it at her peril.

'With your permission, Majesty,' he said, indicating Urssain and a group of other senior Mathidrin officers standing stiffly by. Sylvriss nodded her consent.

'You have your orders,' he said curtly. 'I want the fire and the people under control with maximum dispatch. And I want the ringleaders taken alive if possible. There's more to this than a spontaneous outburst. Dismissed.'

The men saluted and, after bowing to the Queen, left as stiffly as they had stood.

'Lord Dan-Tor, what's happening?' the Queen repeated as the door closed.

'Majesty,' said Dan-Tor, his face now more composed. 'I'm afraid a small number of troublemakers have started a disturbance over in the west of the City. Unfortunately they've also started that.' He indicated the view from the window.

Sylvriss went to the window and stared up at the towering column of smoke. 'The King nearly saw it,'

she said anxiously. 'I managed to get him to a room on the other side. He's asleep now.'

Dan-Tor nodded solicitously, his eyes indifferent.

'What is it that's burning?' Sylvriss continued.

'One of my workshops,' Dan-Tor replied. 'But that smoke. So black, so dense, and that awful smell.'

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