* * *
For her part, Shimmer saw the humour. She, Skinner and a handful of Avowed marching through the inner precincts, the majority of the force left behind in the marshalling grounds. What could they hope to accomplish, or more precisely, what did Cowl or Skinner have in mind? Surely Laseen would have fled by now, or carried on the ancient solution and taken poison – one could always hope. Perhaps they would end up joining the queue of petitioners hoping for their turn before the August Personage.
But no. Skinner did not stop on his relentless march to the Throne room. Functionaries and clerks pressed themselves against walls and gaped as they strode through colonnaded approaches, seating halls, and long reception chambers. All guards were notable by their absence – almost as if they'd been pulled for service elsewhere – and the where of that troubled Shimmer.
The final tall set of double doors crashed open under Skinner's armoured forearm and they faced the long sable carpet leading up to an empty throne. The throne of Malaz, assembled from bones. A not so subtle reminder of the true power behind it, the T'lan Imass. A cold grim seat, it seemed to Shimmer. Skinner set his gauntleted hands to his belt and nodded his head within his tall helm, as if confirming to himself what he'd been expecting all along.
‘Empty,’ Shimmer said, mostly because someone had to.
‘Almost,’ Skinner corrected, pointing aside.
A short chubby man in rich blue and green robes bowed where he waited next to a pillar. He gestured to a table holding carafes of clear water. ‘Refresh yourselves please, honoured ones. I see that your passage has been a particularly desiccating one.’
Skinner turned away, dismissing him. ‘Poison is useless against us.’
The man bowed again. ‘As I know. Which is why I would never make such an ill-advised attempt.’
Shimmer drew off her helmet, tucked it under one arm. ‘You are?’
‘Mallick Rel. Duly elected spokesman for the Assembly of regional governors and representatives.’ He smiled unctuously, bobbing his head.
Shimmer helped herself to the water, drank deeply and found it wonderfully refreshing. ‘Come to take the measure of your new masters?’
The man's lips drew back in a thin smile, revealing sickly green teeth. ‘If the Gods should will it so …’
It seemed to Shimmer that this man was not nearly as nervous as he should be. Skinner had turned at the man's words and now regarded him. ‘Perhaps I should kill you,’ he said, his voice bland.
The man's eyes fluttered as he blinked his confusion. ‘But wasn't the water cool and fresh?’
Shimmer laughed. ‘It was that. My thanks.’
‘Excellent. A job well done is its own reward.’
Now it was Shimmer's turn to stare, uncertain. This man's game was deep – was he angling to maintain his position, or was that actually … mockery?
But Skinner waved curt dismissal. ‘Leave us.’
The man bowed and backed out. Lazar pulled the doors shut.
This whole thing is a mistake, Skinner,‘ Smoky said – for the tenth time. ‘And that guy was the oddest of it.’ Shimmer had to agree. Why had he elected to be here to meet them? What was his purpose?
Skinner faced them. ‘Yes, enough of this foolish charade. Laseen has fled. What we have shown here is that no one dares face us. Shimmer, take the command back to the ships to withdraw down the coast to the west and link up with the rest of the forces when they arrive. Cowl and I will join you later.’
Shimmer bowed. ‘You are going on alone?’
‘Yes. There is are some … options … Cowl and I wish to look into.’
Shimmer bowed again. ‘As you order.’ She gestured Smoky behind her, faced Lazar, Black the Lesser, Shijel and Kalt. ‘Form up and have a care.’
They'd left behind the inner halls and were close to the marshalling grounds when the first ambush took them. A concerted toss of Moranth munitions blew Kalt into fragments. Withering volleys from crossbows and bows kept them pinned until Smoky drove the soldiers back with a liquid wall of flame that billowed down the hall. Shimmer stepped out among the still burning tapestries and furniture, waved the smoke aside, squinting ahead. She pointed Lazar back to get Skinner even though she was certain he was gone – if he'd been around he would have come. Smoky raised a hand for silence. ‘The Brethren clamour. Listen.’
The muted, distant murmur of battle; her command was under attack.