As he finished his explanation, in walked the Arkhos of Nemohaim. The six Arkhoi froze as one man.

'Leith, oh Leith,' his mother said, in the moments before the shouting began. 'What have you done?'

CHAPTER 7.

BATTLE OF THE FOUR HALLS.

THE STRUGGLE WAS BRIEF. No one suffered serious injury, but it was a close thing. As soon as the Arkhos of Nemohaim entered the pavilion he was recognised by four of the Arkhoi - Haurn, Plonya, Deuverre and his own replacement, the new Arkhos of Nemohaim - and the other two were not far behind in drawing their conclusions, then their swords. They were joined by the two guardsmen who had accompanied them, and for a moment it seemed the Arkhos of Nemohaim would be slain. Someone made a lunge. No one was sure who it was and, as it missed, there was no point pursuing the matter, but at that moment Achtal the Bhrudwan strode into the tent armed only with a staff, deflecting blows aimed at the Arkhos, who appeared to be making no effort to defend himself. A few moments of blurred motion and half-a-dozen Arkhoi were left holding bruised arms and hands, and their swords lay on the floor. Bitter curses hung in the air.

'What is happening?' Leith cried into the sudden stillness. Every head in the tent turned in his direction.

Surprisingly, it was the Arkhos of Nemohaim who answered him, an avid gleam in his eye.

'Someone has not thought things through,' he said, directing his disconcerting gaze at Leith. 'Someone who would privately entertain members of the Council of Faltha and not plan against the chance of them discovering their former leader walked free and unrestrained.'

'Ungently put, but accurate,' Kurr said. 'Leith, if you had informed us that the Council of Faltha had come calling, we would at least have ensured the Arkhos of Nemohaim was kept apart from them.'

'What is that man doing here?' the Arkhos of Plonya asked through lips thin with anger. 'He should be made to answer to the Council of Faltha for his deeds!'

'You are hardly in any position to make demands,' Mahnum replied quietly. 'You are here to surrender, if Leith's explanation is correct.'

'Not quite,' said the Arkhos of Deruys pleasantly. 'There is a delicate balance to be obtained here. A number of my fellow councillors are guilty of reprehensible crimes, treason not the least, which might cost them their freedom or even their lives, depending on the mercy of the new rulers of the city. I myself am not entirely innocent, according to the law; although I acted on the orders of my king, and remained loyal to Faltha at all times. We turn the City over to you, but do not surrender ourselves. Is the distinction clear? Some here might want to make a swift journey home to their king on their fastest horse, while others might want to avoid such a journey. I do not know. But none want to find themselves in The Pinion.'

'What prevents us from making you captives and dispensing justice as we see fit?' Maendraga wanted to know.

'I would have thought honour might prevent such a betrayal. Or if not honour, common sense would suggest that receiving the keys to the Four Halls and being granted the allegiance of the Instruian Guard, both of which require our cooperation, might be worth consideration.'

Maendraga nodded. 'Please excuse my shortsightedness. Leith is not the only thoughtless one here today. We have been many weeks on the road, and have taken little rest since we came to this city.'

Leith wanted to protest, to say something that might wrest some control back for himself, but circumstances had run away from him. He risked a glance at Hal, and discovered that his older brother was gazing at him with something akin to compassion on his face. He'd seen that look many times before. He remembered it, for example, when he'd been wrongly accused of breaking the shutters on Malos's kitchen window, Hal had sat opposite him while their father gave him a telling off. There was a clear message on Hal's face that day. I know what you're going through, it said, and it is undeserved. Not pity, exactly; more a knowing, understanding, sympathetic look. Nothing Leith could think of at the moment could have made him angrier. Something of this must have been reflected on his face, because Hal turned away suddenly, a hurt look clouding his features.

Geinor and the Escaignian woman had been busy organising the evening meal, and began serving the others as the discussion continued. Hal ventured a rare opinion: as Leith expected, he supported the idea of accepting the Council's offer and letting them go where they might.

'After all, had we been offered this choice four months ago, we would have accepted it without question,' he said. Mahnum and Perdu were disinclined to agree, worrying about the possibility of further treachery. But, as Kurr reminded them, their victory over the remnants of the Instruian Guard was by no means assured, and even if it was to be achieved, would be bought at a great cost. 'Doing the Destroyer's work,' was how the old farmer summed up the consequences of rejecting the Council's offer.

The Escaignian woman spoke up. 'What of the other Council members? There are sixteen of you: what happened to the others?' The slim, round-faced woman had said very little since their return to the Great City. According to Indrett, she suffered the frustration of separation between herself and her family still in Escaigne. Though they were undoubtedly close by, she could not make contact, as the normal entry points were boarded over.

But with these words she occasioned groans from a number of the Company. 'How could we have been so foolish?' the Haufuth said. 'What were we thinking? Six cannot speak for sixteen!'

'There are no longer sixteen,' said the Arkhos of Nemohaim, the former leader of the Council.

'There were not sixteen even before I left. There will be fewer now. Associating with such as Deorc the Bhrudwan has a way of whittling down the numbers until only the fittest, most ruthless - or luckiest - survive. How is my old friend Deorc, anyway? Is he asking after me?

Does he approve of your negotiations?' His piggy eyes pierced his former fellow councillors.

'The fat man is right,' said the Arkhos of Plonya, directing a baleful stare at him. 'Much has happened since his poor judgment led us, and the City, away from the path of wisdom. Let me tally it for you!' He held up the fingers of both hands, and began counting them off. 'Twenty men have served on the Council of Faltha since Nemohaim recruited those he *** his "Patriots" two years ago. Sarista was assassinated, first fruits of betrayal, he and his family and all his servants, at this man's direct order. Then followed Asgowan, who sided with Deorc and was denounced by Nemohaim because of it.

We all watched Deorc torture and kill him, and though he deserved it, his death was unpleasant to behold. The four remaining loyalists were executed, burned at the stake, and their deaths can also be charged to Nemohaim's account. Deruys, Redana'a, Sna Vaztha and Piskasia. They died well, unlike Asgowan, but were accorded no dignity: Nemohaim ordered their ashes scattered into the sewers. Then, of course, the Arkhos of Nemohaim himself was driven out of the City after the Escaignian fiasco; driven out, I repeat, no matter how much he might claim he left of his own accord.

'Three Patriots - Firanes, Favony and Vertensia - perished when the blue fire raged out of control just a few hours ago, when Deorc was forced to report his failure to his master. Ten councillors eliminated, ten to go.' He closed his fingers into two fists, then opened them again.

'I do not know what Deorc said or did to offend his Bhrudwan masters. I'm not sure any of us understood what happened with the blue fire. I know I was uncomfortable with it. Some kind of dark wizardry. In my opinion those who tamper with such powers deserve their fate. And that is what happened, for Deorc also perished in the fire.'

The hiss of indrawn breath from the Arkhos of Nemohaim was audible throughout the tent.

The breath of ambition rekindled, Leith realised.

'Some things might have been better left unsaid,' Kurr said regretfully. 'It seems that no one is immune from unwise thoughts today.'

'Detail a guard on the man until we decide what to do with him,' said the Haufuth to the Captain of the Instruian Guard, who nodded and moved closer to his former master. 'With this news, there's no telling what he might do.'

Plonya acknowledged his error with a shrug of his shoulders, then went on. 'Let me continue with my count as 1 started it. 1 include Deorc, who was never appointed but did serve, after a fashion. This is what has happened to the other nine: only three of the original traitors remain as councillors, and they chose not to support our initiative. Treika, Straux and Tabul are now being taken to The Pinion. Of the rest of us, three were replacements for those executed earlier, and three came over to the "Patriots" only under duress. We six are all that remain.

When we evaluated our position, and our sources told us of the exploits of your Company, in particular the revelation of the Jugom Ark, it seemed to us there was little point in continuing to govern.'

'You forget the twenty-first councillor, the replacement Arkhos of Sna Vaztha,' Indrett pointed out. Beside her, Mahnum's face hardened.

'So we have,' the Arkhos of Deruys said, faintly amused. 'How could we have forgotten? Such a grand entrance, and his credentials were impeccable. 1 think his appearance did something to Deorc, drove him to swift actions he would otherwise have taken more time over. Certainly he had been planning to confront your Company at some appointed time, but hurried down here with his Instruian Guard almost as soon as the Arkhos of Sna Vaztha left for the last time. Where is Modahl, by the way? He showed great courage in a tight place. I would like to shake the hand of a living legend.'

'He is gone, along with others of our number.' Kurr was reluctant to say more.

The ******* of Plonya took a step forward. 'And the Jugom Ark is in the hands of the legend's own grandson! I take it that the arrow in the young man's hand is indeed the Arrow of Yoke, returned after all this time? There are signs and proofs of such?'

'There have been,' answered the Haufuth soberly. 'If you choose to remain with us, you may see more. Leave us now, while we discuss whether we will accept your offer.'

After they had been escorted out, Phemanderac hustled over to the Haufuth. 'Surely we will accept?'

'Without a doubt,' Kurr replied, and his village headman agreed with a nod. 'Their spokesman was right. This is the least expensive way of doing what we need to do.'

'There are some implications, however,' Hal said. The others turned to him, unused to him offering his opinion. 'Well, we will have to take the Arkhos of Nemohaim and the six councillors east with us when we march. If we do not, we leave people behind in Instruere who, even if they don't want to assume leadership of the City themselves, might be proposed by others with ambition.'

'Good thinking.' The old farmer nodded his appreciation. 'Of course, there are other ways we could render them ineffective.'

'And you would use them?' This was more like the Hal they remembered from their journey to Instruere.

'No,' Kurr admitted. 'None of us have the stomach for executions, but we must not let on that this is so. There are many people in this City who would hastily move into any perceived gaps in the leadership. We must take the keys and lay claim to the Four Halls before anyone else realises what is happening.'

'Would it help to let the City know that we have the blessing of the Council of Faltha?'

Belladonna asked.

'That's a good question,' said the Haufuth reflectively. 'It might reassure some people, but turn others against us.'

'Nevertheless, it is a question we can consider after we've actually taken control.'

Phemanderac's eyes blazed with urgency. 'We must move quickly. Are we agreed?'

'What does the Arrow-bearer say?' Graig asked, a little stiffness in his voice. 'We would still be begging for help if it was not for him.'

Leith smiled gratefully at the young Nemohaimian. '1 don't think they care any more,' he said to him, unable to keep the hurt from choking his voice. 'I'm just a candle-holder, shedding light so everyone else can get on with their tasks.' The other members of the Company showed that they heard him, as he intended them to.

'Come, Leith, much has changed even in the short time I have known you.' Leith looked for signs of sympathy in Phemanderac's deep blue eyes, and was relieved not to find any. He was not sure he could stand any more sympathy. 'You are an important part of the Company.

When have you ever not been listened to?'

'We don't have time for this,' Kurr growled. 'If Leith has something to say, we'll listen.

Otherwise, we need to make a decision.'

'It seems to me the decision is made,' Mahnum said quickly, perhaps to cover his son's embarrassment. 'Does anyone think we should refuse?' No one spoke; a few shook their heads emphatically. 'Then let us call the councillors back and set things in motion.'

'So swiftly?' Belladonna asked.

'A vast army descends upon us,' he replied. 'No matter how swiftly we move, we may already be too late.'

The Company spent a restless night back at their lodgings. Events, already outpacing their capacity to take them in, moved even more quickly from that point onwards. What had taken months to prepare unfolded the next day in a matter of hours.

They ought to establish a presence in the Four Halls, it was decided. They were the key to authority in Instruere, everybody knew that. Even with the Jugom Ark, it would not be enough to remain in Old Struere, from where it would be difficult, if not impossible, to win support from the rest of the City. Initially they were all going to go to the halls, but Hal cautioned them to leave some of their number behind. He remained, along with Achtal, the Haufuth, Mahnum and Indrett, and the Captain of the Guard, who kept a watch on the Arkhos of Nemohaim. The Arkhos of Plonya surrendered the keys to the Four Halls into Kurr's safekeeping. The six Arkhoi then donned their cloaks and put up their hoods, somewhat incongruously in the autumn heat, and led the rest of the Company through the busy City.

Overhead clouds began to build up, though it was only mid-morning, promising rain or even thunder later.

For the first thirty minutes or so the signs of the recent destruction were obvious everywhere.

A few buildings still smouldered, mostly at the ends of narrow lanes some distance from the nearest source of water, left to burn themselves out. Behind the block of residential tenements to their left, to the west as they walked north along the Vitulian Way, lay a large area of warehouses and the skeletal remains of the Granaries. Black smoke rose from half-a-dozen places in that direction. Closer to their path fully one in four of the houses were damaged in some way, either by fire or by falling fragments from the warehouse district. On these houses carpenters laboured, assisted by swarms of locals, including many whose jobs in the warehouse district were at least temporarily suspended. Weary voices called to each other across the streets, exchanging materials, offering or asking for assistance, calling workers in for food or drink. A number of them waved to the Company, recognising the Arrow if not the person who held it, and within minutes a small group of children gathered, cheering and dancing around them.

They at least acknowledged something special was happening, if their elders would not yet - either because of the taxing events of the previous few days or because of their reserved, private natures down in the poorer southern part of Instruere.

Their path took them beyond the environs they had frequented since their return to the City, the change marked by a gradual improvement in the standard of accommoda' tion, wider, cleaner sewers, and better-dressed people on the streets. They began to encounter many who had not seen the Arrow, and the news of their passage spread ahead of them. Citizens came to their doors and spilled out on to the road, pointing, talking, shouting. A few of the older children from Old Struere still tagged along, telling the people all about the Company of the Arrow.

The ground began to rise as they approached the Hall of Meeting, the largest and most important of the Four Halls, a large building squatting over a wide area of parks and gardens.

They knew this building well, having many times made the hour-long walk from Foilzie's tenement to the Appellants' Hall during the frustrating weeks they were seeking an audience with the Council of Faltha. The attendant crowd waited outside while the Company walked silently through the colossal Outer Chamber. Deruys showed them where earlier that day the blue fire had consumed a marble table and eaten into the floor. No remains of Deorc or the three councillors had been found, Deruys said.

Leith remembered that evil face gloating over Stella in chains. Stella! Had Phemanderac seen truly? Had she been burned by the flames like the others? Had it hurt? Was she really gone forever?

Leith glanced upwards, his vision blurred by tears he had not yet taken time to shed.

Something inside him ached unbearably, and seemed to be taking control of him, thickening his throat, burning his chest, robbing the strength from his arms and legs. He knew this was grief, and that soon he would have to give way to it - he could almost hear Hal giving him well-intentioned advice to that effect - but not yet.

High up in the vaulted ceiling, centuries-old shadows flickered in response to the Jugom Ark, and began to withdraw as though being driven away by the light. Intuitively, Leith realised this great Hall had been designed with an artefact like the Jugom Ark in mind, even though it had been built hundreds of years after Bewray's time, if he understood Phemanderac rightly.

Could it be? How could the builders have known? Leith sighed. It made no more or no less sense than many other things that had happened to him.

One of the keys they had been given opened the small door to the Inner Chamber. 'Not in there,' said Kurr and Leith in the same moment; then laughed at themselves, the man ruffling the boy's sandy hair, and then leading the Company back out into the Outer Chamber.

The Arkhos of Plonya tried to deter them. 'It is cold here most of the winter, and sound plays odd tricks. Not at all suitable for a small group to meet.'

'We're used to the cold,' Leith said in reply, 'and we don't plan to be here for long anyway.

Just time enough for the City to settle down and for us to raise our army. Then we'll be off east, and those we leave in charge can meet wherever they want.'

'What about one of the other halls? Why can't we use the Hall of Lore?' Belladonna asked.

Phemanderac turned to her and nodded his head eagerly in agreement.

'No, it has to be here,' Kurr said with finality. 'This is the hall the Instruians associate with authority, so here we must stay.'

The far door sprang open and a young man burst in, wearing the livery of the Hall of Meeting.

'Please, you had better come,' he said to them, unsure exactly who it was he ought to be addressing, but eventually settling on the Arkhos of Deruys. 'A large group of people has gathered outside. They are calling for the Council of Faltha, and they sound very angry.'

The Company was able to observe the new arrivals from the marbled mezzanine floor of the entry annexe. Six or seven deep, the crowd formed a line that curved away out of sight to the left and right. 'Surrounding the hall,' Kurr muttered.

'What do they want?' Leith asked.

'Let's listen.' Deruys threw the shutters open, an action that did not go unnoticed by those below. A tall, blond-haired man in a blue robe turned and pointed, then cried: 'Look on them!

There are the craven councillors! The ones who brought darkness to this City of Light!'

'Burn them! Burn them!' cried the crowd, on cue.

Deruys snapped the shutters closed. 'Who are those people?' he asked, puzzled. 'What do they want?'

'The man in blue is our old friend the Hermit,' said Kurr sourly. 'The man who formed the Ecclesia.'

' ah, _ the dune of Deorc' Plonya smiled. 'Whatever one thinks of the Bhrudwan, he certainly proved effective in subverting the designs of others.'

Leith spoke his thoughts aloud. 'If that line goes all the way around the hall, it must be thousands strong. Surely there are not that many remaining in the Hermit's thrall after the atrocity in front of the Hall of Lore?'

'You are right,' the old farmer said, edging open one of the shutters and peering out. With mounting anger in his voice, he turned to the others. 'Down there, standing beside the Hermit, is the Presiding Elder of Escaigne. They appear to have joined forces. This is something we should have foreseen!'

'We're trapped here, you know,' Leith said nervously. 'If they don't want us to leave, we won't be able to. What fools we are!'

'I don't see how you could have foreseen this,' growled Maendraga. 'You seem to think you ought to divine all the secrets of the western world. From what you've told me, these are two proud men of ambition, unwilling to share glory with another. It is a mark of their desperation that they feel the need to form an alliance.'

'A fragile alliance at best, easily undone if we can find the knot.' Kurr leaned forward, easing the shutters open a little further. 'I knew this Presiding Elder when he was a double-dealing youth. I'm sure I could find his weakness.'

'What if they manage to break in?' Leith asked. It seemed cruel that just as they achieved what they had worked so hard to attain, something should come along to threaten it. How many more obstacles would be raised in their path?