Return of the Crimson Guard by Ian C. Esslemont Read Free Book Online Page A

province of Quon Tali (which gave the land its name) in the west. Each in turn dominated mercantile trade and strove to crush its distant rival while the lesser states, Itko Kan, Cawn, Gris and Dal Hon, danced in a myriad of alliances, trade combines and Troikas marshalled against one or both of these poles. Who could have predicted that these two major capitals would fall to the invader while poorer states would resist for years?
     
    Chronicler Denoshen
South Kan Hermitages
     
U NDER A BLAZING NOON SUN THE CROWD JOSTLING ITS WAY UP Unta's street of Opals thickened to an immovable clamouring mass. Ahead, the thoroughfare debouched into Reacher's Square where the animal roar of tens of thousands of voices buffeted those straining for entrance. Second-storey balconies facing the street sagged with the weight of more paying spectators than good sense should allow.
     
For the frustrated citizens caught in the street, advance was impossible. Possum, however, easily slipped his way forward, edging from slim gap to slim gap, passing with a brush here or a well-placed elbow there. Those of his profession were trained to use crowds and this was one reason why he enjoyed them so much. Anonymity, it seemed to him, was assured as one among so many. But it was also his opinion of human nature that with so many people gathered together no one could possibly organize anything.
He stepped out on to the littered bricks of Reacher's Square to find it a heaving sea of citizens of the Empire; for today was execution day. The Empress was dispatching her enemies in as messy and public amanner as possible. All to serve as salutary warnings to those contemplating any such crimes. And of course to entertain her loyal masses. Edging his way around the perimeter of the huge square, Possum kept close to one enclosing wall. He estimated the crowd at some fifty thousand, all peering and straining their attention to the central platform where various minor criminals had already met their ends in beheadings, evisceratings and impalings.
This month's crowd was above average and Possum had no doubt the extra numbers were lured by the star prisoner scheduled to meet his excruciating and bloody end this day: Janul of Gris Province. Mage, once High Fist, who, during the recent times of unrest had named himself Tyrant of Delanss and was only brought to heel by a rather expensive diversion of resources. For this Janul rightly earned the Empress's ire and thus this very public venue for his expiration. Yet it could also be that all these citizens crammed into Reacher's Square – and, Possum could admit, himself as well – wondered that perhaps another reason lay behind this particular execution: that long ago Janul had been of the emperor's select cadre. He was Old Guard.
As Possum slipped behind the backs of men and women, someone addressed him. This alone was not unusual as he had through the Warren of Mockra altered his appearance only slightly while dressing as a common labourer. In the jostling crowd all around him people gossipped, yelled their wares and made bets on the fates of the condemned. This voice, however, had spoken from Hood's Paths. Possum straightened, turned and peered about. No one seemed to be paying him any particular attention.
‘Up,’ the voice urged. ‘Up here ’
Possum looked up. The enclosing wall rose featureless, constructed of close-fitted stone blocks mottled by mould and lichen. There, at the very top nearly four man-lengths above, rested small balls resembling some joker of Oponn's idea of battlements: a row of spiked human heads.
He turned away, glanced about – could it be?
‘Yes. Up here .’
Possum leaned against the wall, his face to the rear of the crowd. ‘You can hear me?’ he whispered low.
‘I have ears .’
That's about all.’
Possum sensed exasperation glowing from the other side of Hood's Paths. ‘Fine. Let's have them – get them all over with.’
‘What?’
‘The head jokes. I can tell you re just