more jagged line. ‘Trying to avoid the death of innocents; the bag can help you get out instead. Have Cetarn signal me when you want the way cleared.’
‘What are you doing now?’
The mage didn’t reply, and Doranei realised he wasn’t going to get an answer without interrupting her concentration. Camba Firnin’s main skill might be as an illusionist, but she was still powerful, and now wasn’t the time to anger her. Instead he made himself comfortable and stared out over the white-shrouded figures that even now knelt at the gates in prayer. There weren’t as many as he’d feared, and he mouthed his thanks to Cerdin, God of Thieves, whom the Brotherhood had adopted as a patron God.
It was hard to gauge in the darkness but he guessed there were a little more than a score of them, perhaps thirty faithful, all in a circle with heads bowed. Along the wall fluttered scraps of paper and cloth, reminding him of prayers to Sheredal, the Aspect of the Goddess Asenn called the Spreader of the Frost. From the sheer number on show Doranei realised it wasn’t just a handful of Byorans who were praying for intercession with the Gods. He couldn’t begin to estimate how many prayers had been attached to the wall, but it looked like hundreds.
The scene of still reverence continued for a dozen heartbeats, until, without warning, a white misty figure stepped out from the compound gate. Doranei’s heart gave a lurch. It was a child, robed in cloth-of-light, and resembling the ghostly Aspect of Vasle inhabiting Morghien, King Emin’s long-time ally. Even before the praying figures had noticed it the figure set off down the main avenue, oblivious to the gasps it provoked as it passed the beggars. By ones and twos they struggled to their feet, looking around in bewilderment — one reached his hand out to the illusion, but when he tried to speak the words faltered in his throat.
‘Karkarn’s horn,’ Doranei spat, ‘you’ve just reaffirmed their faith, you stupid bitch!’
‘Stop your whining,’ Firnin said in a breathy whisper. ‘Are they following?’
Doranei looked at the beggars, who were all staring after the child as it reached the top of the street and started off down it. When it became clear the child was leaving, they stumbled after it, a few crying out in wordless fervour.
‘Yes, they are.’
‘Good. Leave me here.’ He could hear the strain in her voice now. ‘I’ll lead them as far as I can, then give them a nightmare that’s hard to worship.’
Doranei opened his mouth to argue before realising it would waste precious time. ‘Damn. Okay.’ He signalled the rest of the company forward, carefully draping the saddlebag over one shoulder.
They came in a sprint, with Daken and the battle-mage Ebarn at the fore. There was no time to talk; everyone already knew their established positions, and they all knew how vulnerable they were out in the open. It was reasonable to think that news of the fire in Breakale had already reached the Ruby Tower — with luck the gate wasn’t barred but they couldn’t afford to make assumptions. Once she was standing in front of the gate Ebarn planted her feet firmly. Doranei gently placed the saddlebag on the ground to one side and took his place in the second rank.
‘Close your eyes.’ She stretched her arms out and braced herself while the soldiers immediately behind her, Telasin, Coran and Veil, were careful to give her room. The silver thread and crystal shards attached to her tunic began to glow, and sparks darted through the air around her. A moment later her skin glistened pale green and Doranei, knowing what was coming, ducked his head.
With a great gasp Ebarn threw her hands forwards and a flash cut the darkness, twin streams of magic leaping forward and exploding on the compound gates with an ear-shattering crash. The gates were ripped from their hinges and launched into the compound, while Ebarn staggered backwards into Veil’s waiting arms.
As Doranei blinked and cursed at the effect on his night-sight, the white-eyes leaped eagerly forward, weapons raised. Telasin followed, into the stink of the Dark Place that filled the air and the chaos caused by the inrush of Brotherhood troops. A roar of wordless rage that could only be Coran cut through the clatter, shouting and screaming.
Once Doranei met the bewildered Ruby Tower Guards inside, his training kicked in. A spear jabbed out of the dust-filled gloom and he dodged to the side, feeling