The Tower Broken(68)

Inside, Azeem and the duke were waiting together, making pleasant small-talk, the sort Sarmin did not have the experience to invent: weather, horses, travel, the things men saw and experienced when they lived in the world. When Sarmin entered both men ceased speaking and made their obeisances, but it was to Duke Didryk that he spoke. ‘So. We are allied, you and I. It was what I wanted when your cousin Kavic was alive. He let me know how strongly your people desired peace.’

‘We do,’ said the duke, and then, in a lower voice, ‘we did.’ Sweat shone on his forehead, but whether it was from the heat or from fear Sarmin could not tell.

‘Kavic and I spoke briefly of reparations, Duke – the cost of rebuilding your capital city, Mondrath.’ Beside him, Azeem shut his ledger with a thump. Talking of money without council approval offended his sense of order.

Didryk opened his mouth twice before he could speak. ‘Reparations would be most generous, Your Majesty.’

‘If we all survive the coming Storm, we will discuss it – but let us now speak of surviving.’

Didryk answered him with a curt nod, his blue eyes shifting through a range of emotions too fleeting for Sarmin to catch.

He sat down behind his desk and spread his hands across the cool wood, his reflection wavering up at him from the depths of the lacquer. ‘Do you know where Austere Adam is hiding?’

‘No, Your Majesty. I have not been to Nooria before today.’

Sarmin paused, frustrated. It would be foolish to ask Didryk about Daveed, to show his missing tiles so soon in the game, but the desire to do so nearly overwhelmed him. ‘What do you know of the marketplace attacks?’

‘Your mage Farid told me,’ Didryk said, looking away. ‘I know what kind of pattern was used, and there are not many austeres who can make it.’

‘But of course it was Austere Adam,’ said Azeem.

To Sarmin’s surprise, Didryk disagreed. ‘He would not kill anyone without giving them a chance to come into the light.’ He looked from Sarmin to Azeem. ‘To convert to Mogyrk.’

‘Then who?’

‘I wondered the same.’ Didryk met his steady gaze. ‘If I knew, I would tell you.’

Shock rooted Sarmin to his chair. ‘Are you suggesting that Yrkmir is already here?’

‘It can be no one else, but it makes no sense. The first austere does not sneak.’

Sarmin ran his hands through his hair. ‘But it fits with what General Arigu told me. He said they attack first with their austeres and then with their military. Do you not agree?’

‘I do agree, but the austeres attacked my city all at once with a great spell, not like this, little by little, in marketplaces.’

‘Perhaps they mean to sow confusion?’ said Azeem.

‘Perhaps they are buying time, distracting us,’ said Didryk. ‘There is no way for Yrkmir to cast the spell they used in Fryth, not without surrounding Nooria. This is a large city, Magnificence, with many guards on the walls.’

‘If they tried to make a pattern right outside the city walls, yes – but they don’t need to do that, do they? The pattern could be much larger, and written in the sands far out of our sight.’

‘Yes.’ Didryk leaned forwards, his hands clasped in front of him. ‘They could. It would take them a long time.’

‘Would it? How many austeres do they have?’

‘In Yrkmir itself, hundreds – but I could not guess how many they have with them.’

‘So let’s say they have hundreds: how long would it take for them to encircle us, even out in the desert?’

‘Weeks only – less, perhaps.’

Sarmin leaned back in his chair. ‘What do you know of the first austere?’

‘I have never met him. Fryth is far from the centre of his empire.’ Didryk’s fingers danced along his knuckles. ‘But the first austere is said to have a direct connection to Mogyrk, to understand his secrets in ways the rest of us do not. That he is capable of many feats …’ He shrugged. ‘I always believed it a story to keep us in awe of the empire.’

If the first austere had Helmar’s skill, he would not be dabbling in marketplaces.

Sarmin turned to Azeem. ‘Did you find those books I requested about the Yrkmir incursions during the time of Satreth the Reclaimer?’

‘Books?’ Azeem scrambled to look at the notes he had written in his ledger.

‘I asked the guards – never mind; I will find them myself. Meanwhile, our citizens are already leaving, but it is time to make it the law. We must order an evacuation.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ said Azeem, picking up his quill and making a note as Sarmin watched him, puzzled. He would have thought an evacuation easy enough to remember.