Dallog
and the others were surveying the corpses of the troopers littering the road.
Loosening the drawstrings on the pouch, Stryke checked its contents. The instrumentalities were inside. Triumphant, he stuffed
the pouch into his jerkin.
“Got them?” Coilla asked as he approached.
He gave her a thumbs-up.
“
Company!
” Dallog shouted, pointing with his sword.
A detachment of cavalry were heading their way from the direction of the barracks, and they were moving fast.
Stryke ordered a retreat. They ran into the trees and mounted hidden horses.
In her carriage, Jennesta smiled.
They split into four groups to avoid attention, with Stryke, Coilla and Haskeer staying together. As a precaution, the safe
house had been changed following the incident with Standeven, and they rode hard for it to beat the curfew. But they slowed
their pace when they got into the inner city’s narrow, winding streets, where many others were hastening home before full
dark. Finally, finding the lanes too crowded to ride, they had to dismount and lead their horses.
“Now we’ve got the stars back,” Haskeer said, “we can leave anytime we want.”
“Not until things are settled here,” Stryke replied sternly.
“Didn’t say we should. It’s just good to have the option.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Now you’re talking.” Haskeer spat plentifully, narrowly missing the feet of an irate passing citizen. “My throat’s as dusty
as a troll’s crotch.”
“Is it just me,” Coilla wondered, “or did this mission seem just a little too easy?”
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been in there with Jennesta,” Stryke replied.
“You’re still alive, aren’t you? And, all right, we met some opposition, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“We got lucky.”
“Don’t you think Jennesta would’ve taken more precautions? Not just for herself, but the stars?”
“You know what it’s like with rulers. They get full of themselves. Too brash. They never think anybody’d dare go against ’em.
The important thing is we got these back.” He patted his jerkin.
“Guess so.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“We’re nearly there,” Stryke said, changing the subject. “Expect the rebels to be nosy about what we’ve been up to today,
and stick to our story. Remember, we’ve just been harrying the militia.”
Coilla and Haskeer nodded.
But when they got to the disused grain store the resistance were using they found the place abuzz. No one seemed interested
in where they’d been. Eventually Chillder located them, and she was animated.
“What’s happening?” Stryke asked.
“The resistance council’s decided the Primary should come out into the open. Isn’t it great? Our mother’s going to issue her
rallying call!”
“When?”
“In the morning.”
“That soon?”
“The time’s right, Stryke. Make sure your band’s ready; we’re heading for the revolution!”
9
Hacher had grown used to Jennesta’s nocturnal habits. Or at least accepting of them. In the weeks she had been in Taress as
the empire’s special envoy, he had reason to wonder if she ever slept at all.
So it was that Hacher found himself in her chambers near dawn, having been at her beck and call for most of the night. Jennesta
herself was outside on the balcony, watching Grilan-Zeat. The comet was big in the sky, a boiling light to rival the Sun that
was soon to rise.
Hacher was alone in her apartment. His aide, Frynt, had been despatched on some errand Jennesta demanded, and Brother Grentor
had likewise been dragged from his bed to attend to her whims. Her undead personal guards were nowhere to be seen. Hacher
suspected that they were slumbering in some state of coma necessary to revitalise their strength, but preferred not to dwell
on the thought.
He was bored as well as exhausted, though the anxiety Jennesta always managed to generate in everyone gave his fatigue an
edge. It was
and the others were surveying the corpses of the troopers littering the road.
Loosening the drawstrings on the pouch, Stryke checked its contents. The instrumentalities were inside. Triumphant, he stuffed
the pouch into his jerkin.
“Got them?” Coilla asked as he approached.
He gave her a thumbs-up.
“
Company!
” Dallog shouted, pointing with his sword.
A detachment of cavalry were heading their way from the direction of the barracks, and they were moving fast.
Stryke ordered a retreat. They ran into the trees and mounted hidden horses.
In her carriage, Jennesta smiled.
They split into four groups to avoid attention, with Stryke, Coilla and Haskeer staying together. As a precaution, the safe
house had been changed following the incident with Standeven, and they rode hard for it to beat the curfew. But they slowed
their pace when they got into the inner city’s narrow, winding streets, where many others were hastening home before full
dark. Finally, finding the lanes too crowded to ride, they had to dismount and lead their horses.
“Now we’ve got the stars back,” Haskeer said, “we can leave anytime we want.”
“Not until things are settled here,” Stryke replied sternly.
“Didn’t say we should. It’s just good to have the option.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Now you’re talking.” Haskeer spat plentifully, narrowly missing the feet of an irate passing citizen. “My throat’s as dusty
as a troll’s crotch.”
“Is it just me,” Coilla wondered, “or did this mission seem just a little too easy?”
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been in there with Jennesta,” Stryke replied.
“You’re still alive, aren’t you? And, all right, we met some opposition, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“We got lucky.”
“Don’t you think Jennesta would’ve taken more precautions? Not just for herself, but the stars?”
“You know what it’s like with rulers. They get full of themselves. Too brash. They never think anybody’d dare go against ’em.
The important thing is we got these back.” He patted his jerkin.
“Guess so.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“We’re nearly there,” Stryke said, changing the subject. “Expect the rebels to be nosy about what we’ve been up to today,
and stick to our story. Remember, we’ve just been harrying the militia.”
Coilla and Haskeer nodded.
But when they got to the disused grain store the resistance were using they found the place abuzz. No one seemed interested
in where they’d been. Eventually Chillder located them, and she was animated.
“What’s happening?” Stryke asked.
“The resistance council’s decided the Primary should come out into the open. Isn’t it great? Our mother’s going to issue her
rallying call!”
“When?”
“In the morning.”
“That soon?”
“The time’s right, Stryke. Make sure your band’s ready; we’re heading for the revolution!”
9
Hacher had grown used to Jennesta’s nocturnal habits. Or at least accepting of them. In the weeks she had been in Taress as
the empire’s special envoy, he had reason to wonder if she ever slept at all.
So it was that Hacher found himself in her chambers near dawn, having been at her beck and call for most of the night. Jennesta
herself was outside on the balcony, watching Grilan-Zeat. The comet was big in the sky, a boiling light to rival the Sun that
was soon to rise.
Hacher was alone in her apartment. His aide, Frynt, had been despatched on some errand Jennesta demanded, and Brother Grentor
had likewise been dragged from his bed to attend to her whims. Her undead personal guards were nowhere to be seen. Hacher
suspected that they were slumbering in some state of coma necessary to revitalise their strength, but preferred not to dwell
on the thought.
He was bored as well as exhausted, though the anxiety Jennesta always managed to generate in everyone gave his fatigue an
edge. It was
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