‘You are aligned to Lady Amavoq. It is deference to her that stays my blade,’ the Aspect said after a pause, slowly turning its head to look the soldier in the eye. ‘Speak again and I will risk your mistress’ wrath.’
The soldier backed away, his mouth open in terror, and the Aspect lowered its weapon. Vesna continued riding slowly towards the barricade. When he was fifteen yards away Keness bowed to him and lowered the tip of its spear to the ground in salute before stepping out of his way.
Vesna continued until he was level with the Aspect and the priest was within sword-reach. There he stopped and gave the soldier a cold look. The man was visibly trembling, despite being very obviously a veteran. It was one thing to see a few battles and take holy orders; quite another to see more than one embodiment of War standing before you.
‘Keness of the Spear,’ Vesna said to the Aspect, ‘I apologise that you were disturbed.’
The Aspect inclined its head and calmly allowed Vesna to cut the flow of magic between priest and God. He vanished, and that done, Vesna turned his attention to the priest. From the markings on the man’s robes he was a senior unmen, no doubt recently elevated because of his abilities as a mage.
‘Unmen,’ Vesna commanded, causing the priest to flinch, ‘dismiss your men and go home to think about what you almost did.’
Without waiting for a response he waved forward the regiment of Palace Guard waiting behind. There was no word of argument from any of the penitents; they raced to clear the barricade and by the time the Ghosts trotted up there was a gap large enough for the troops to pass through two-abreast.
Swordmaster Cosep picked two troopers to disarm the penitents while Vesna led the Ghosts down the street and around the corner to where the rest of the action was happening. A dozen soldiers rounded it at the same time, and skidded to a halt when they saw Vesna and the column. The soldiers immediately turned and fled back the way they’d come, but as Vesna continued he realised that wasn’t the good news he’d been hoping for.
The Brewer’s Gate was a solid fortification in the northeastern part of the city. With produce normally flowing through it every hour of the day, it was no surprise that a small market had been established in the lee of the gate itself. Vesna saw the stalls had been abandoned, and the only people in the space now were armed - and well in excess of the numbers Vesna had brought with him.
The bulk of troops, on the right, were hurriedly turning to form line - they had not been expecting anyone to approach from the south, rather than direct from the palace - but Vesna ignored them, more interested in the squads at the gate itself. Men were huddling under raised shields, as though the occupants of the guardhouse were firing arrows down at them, while a second squad was keeping the gate itself firmly shut and barred.
There was no sign of blood having been spilled, and the only indication of confrontation was at the guardhouse, a square building on the left of the gate, where the attack alarm on the roof was sounding again.
‘Who’s outside the gate?’ Swordmaster Pettir wondered aloud, but he didn’t get a chance to speculate as a group of soldiers and noblemen marched up to address Vesna.
‘Leave this place!’ roared a middle-aged man wearing a single gold earring of rank. He wore chainmail and a heron crest on his brown and white livery. Vesna didn’t recognise the man, but he had half a dozen hurscals at his side, and they had their hands on their hilts. ‘You have no authority over the cults!’
‘And what, pray, has that got to do with you?’ Vesna replied in a calm voice, ignoring, for the moment at least, the lower-ranked nobleman’s deliberate flouting of the traditions of respect. ‘You are a titled man. You can have no affiliation with the cults.’
The man shouted, ‘My allegiance to Nartis is my own business, not yours.’
‘If you have taken holy orders, then it is my business,’ Swordmaster Pettir interrupted. ‘As Knight-Defender of Tirah, I am charged with enforcing the rule of law in the city. What say you?’
‘I say I am a man of piety, you damned jumped-up peasant, and the Gods shall strike you down as a heretic if you claim otherwise