The Tower Broken(100)

Almost no one else walked the streets. Once a noble’s carriage passed by, and a lone man stood holding skewers of cooked lamb as if he meant to sell them to nonexistent passers-by. When he saw them, with the soldiers marching behind, he skittered away like a thief, reminding Farid of the men who had died. Finally he saw the Tower rising above them, casting a shadow from east to south, and felt a moment of hope replace his worry: it had not been destroyed. He had not destroyed it.

The duke stopped at the edge of the pattern and held out an arm to keep anyone else from moving forwards. ‘It is here,’ he said to those who were blind to it, crouching and running his finger along the stone. ‘Farid, here: let me show you.’

Herran, standing by his side, looked around as if puzzled by what he could not see. The grand vizier did not look puzzled. His careful eyes were fixed on the duke.

Farid crouched next to Didryk. The duke gestured at the shapes. ‘You know when you put yourself into a pattern, it is as if you are opening a bag and letting everything inside come out.’

‘Ripping a cord.’

‘Ripping a cord: yes, good. But when you want to ruin a pattern you must close it tight, so it cannot open. Try.’

‘What if I—?’ He glanced up at the Tower.

‘I will not let you “rip the cord”, as you say. Now, try.’ The duke sounded angry.

Was he upset at his fellow Mogyrks who had laid the pattern, Farid wondered, or was he more upset that he had to help save the Tower? He wondered if he would be as forthcoming as the duke if his city had been destroyed.

But for now he had to put wondering aside and focus on the glimmering shapes below him. He thought again of his sister’s twine, strung between her fingers in an intricate web. Instead of pulling so the string fell, could he pull so the string drew tight? He gritted his teeth. If he got it wrong …

He took a long look at the Tower. Inside stood the statues of the former rock-sworn. He could not allow it to turn to dust.

‘Trust me,’ said the duke.

Farid stared at the shapes again, focusing on the symbol he thought meant stone. I will pull you out. As he stared, the shapes shifted and the lines around them bent as if melted by the sun. Again he looked up at the gleaming Tower, standing white against the blue of the sky, and breathed a sigh of relief.

‘You see?’ The duke stood and scuffed at the stone. ‘You did it.’

‘I broke it – but can another person fix it?’

‘I think it is good that there are guards,’ said the duke by way of answering.

Farid lowered his voice. ‘When first we met, you said Adam had put a mark on my forehead, but that you couldn’t tell what it was for. Can you tell me now?’

Didryk frowned and touched his finger to Farid’s skin. ‘It is a compulsion – he has twisted the symbols so much that …’ He paused, then drew his finger away. ‘I think I can remove it for you.’

‘Yes, please.’

As he touched Farid’s forehead once more, Didryk said, ‘Such a small mark cannot be specific. It can only urge you upon a path – for example, a malicious mark could drive a man to drink, but not to drink any particular brew.’

‘Could it drive me to use the pattern?’

Didryk said nothing, but he glanced over to where Azeem and Herran stood side by side, watching them. Then he pushed hard against Farid’s skin and Farid had to steady himself so as not to stumble backwards. He felt a sensation of unravelling, of falling apart, and a bright pain bloomed in his mind. Didryk lowered his finger and stepped away.

‘Thank you.’

Didryk nodded.

‘There are other patterns in the library,’ said Farid, ‘ancient patterns drawn on parchment, from the time of the First Yrkman War.’ And I put one of them all over the walls while I slept. ‘Govnan did not know what they were. I hoped you could tell me.’

But when they stepped towards the Tower, Herran held out an arm, stopping the duke. ‘The emperor must give permission for anyone to enter the Tower.’

‘Perhaps another time,’ Azeem said.

‘Another time, then.’ The duke agreed so easily that Farid became frustrated with him.

‘But I will need to know,’ said Farid, speaking more loudly, ‘I will need to know all the symbols and their meanings if I am to be of any help at all.’

Didryk regarded him a moment. ‘I will teach you, if the Emperor is willing. I will ask for his leave.’

Farid frowned as Grand Vizier Azeem, Duke Didryk and the two Fryth guards turned away, but Herran paused, his grey gaze moving from fountain to statue to courtyard wall. ‘I will arrange for the Grey Service to watch the Tower compound along with the Blue Shields,’ he said to Farid.