Traitors' Gate Read Free

shift as he moved. Then he grabbed rope coiled against the door that led into a small storeroom accessible only from this chamber. None of the goods he and Eliar had stored in there were worth his life.
    â€œI’m ready,” said the Ri Amarah from the door.
    Eliar’s bulging packs brushed Kesh’s arm. “What in the hells are you carrying?”
    â€œAll the oil of naya.”
    â€œAui! Don’t drop it by a flame.”
    Kesh shouldered past and led Eliar to the archway of the inner gate. A few merchants were frantically shoving carts and benches in front of the closed double gates, but the rest were hiding in the storerooms. A struggle raged within the gate house, and outside the gates a crowd screamed words Kesh was pretty sure meant something like “Kill the foreigners! Kill the traitors!”
    â€œThey haven’t given us up,” said Kesh suddenly.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œThe sergeant and his guards could let that mob in. But they’re defending us. Eiya! We’ll need oil of naya.”
    He expected Eliar to protest, but the other man swung down his bulky packs. Keshad ran to the cistern in the middle of the courtyard and climbed up.
    â€œHeya! Heya! Get your weapons! Move! Our guards are defending us against a mob that wants to kill us. If we don’t help them, we’re all dead. I need rags. Anything that will burn easily. Hurry, you cursed fools!”
    He ran to the forecourt. The guards had abandoned the watch platforms that flanked the gates. Access to the platforms and the wall walk was from inside the guard house, now being fought over.
    Merchants came running with weapons, with rags, one dragging a thin pallet. Two carried lamps. Eliar brought three leather bottles. Muffled crashes and shouts came from the guard house. Someone was taking a beating.
    Keshad indicated the platforms above. “We’ll splash oil of naya over the crowd, light rags, and throw them down on top. That should drive them away.”
    â€œHeh. Just like the battle over Olossi,” said one man.
    â€œI’ll go up,” said Eliar immediately.
    As Kesh slung a bottle over his shoulder he called the other merchants closer. “Those who can fight, brace yourselves. Form up around the inner gate. Tip carts over, under the arch, to make a bottleneck. One of you roust out the cowards. We need everyone. Now, hoist me up.”
    Kesh and another man climbed up on a cart. The man laced his fingers together and, when Kesh set a foot into the makeshift stirrup, raised him up so he could throw rope around one of the poles making the scaffolding of the platform. He clambered up and crouched on the platform as Eliar was helped up on the other side. The mob below hadn’t yet spotted them. Men surged past the guard house door, pushing inside only to be cut down by the armed guardsmen. But the mob was growing, howling and barking like animals, or so it seemed to his ears. Workingmen who had, Kesh supposed, filled up with fear and now had to take it out on someone else, they were armed with torches, sticks, tools, and other such humble implements. None seemed to have bows. He licked his lips, tasted smoke. Elsewhere in the market district, compounds were burning.
    The top of the twinned gates was broad enough to walk across if you didn’t mind the height. Eliar hauled up a basket and crouched beside it, lifting out a burning lantern. Below, within the mob, a face looked up. Down along the street about ten men came running carrying ladders.
    Keshad unsealed the first bottle. This was the dangerous part! He shook the vessel, oil spraying on the men crowded up below. Eliar set fire to a rag and flung it outward, but it fell to the ground and was stamped out. Men threw sticks and debris up at them. The first ladder was pushed up against the gate. Keshad emptied the first vessel on top of the men at the base of the ladder. He unsealed the second and ran out along the top of