It was the area where the wealthiest Sufak houses joined the Street of the Families, and where the road took the final bend toward the Afen. Two Sufak houses, Rachik and Pamchen, were ablaze, and the blasphemous paint-splashed triangle of Phan gave evidence of the religious bitterness that had brought it on. Trapped Sufaki ran in panic between the roiling smoke of the fire and the sudden charge of the Indras.
“Spread out!” t’Isulan roared, waving his arm to indicate a barrier across the street. “Close off this area and secure it!”
A feathered shaft impacted into the chest of the man next to him; Tis t’Nechis fell with red dying his robes. A second and a third shaft sped, one felling an Indras and the other a Sufaki bystander who happened to be in the line of fire.
“Up there!” Kta shouted, pointing to the rooftop of Dleve. “Get the man, t’Ranek! You men, spread out! This side, this side, quickly-”
The Indras moved, their rush to shelter terrifying the Sufaki who chanced to have sought the same protected side, but the Indras dislodged no one. A terrified boy started to dart out. An Indras seized him, struggling and kicking though he was, and pushed him into the hands of his kin.
“Neighbors!” Kta shouted to the house of Rachik. “We are not here to harm you. Gods, lady shu-t’Rachik, get those children back into the alley! Keep close to the wall.”
There were a few grins, for the first lady t’Rachik with her brood was very like a frightened cochin with a half dozen of her children about her; other Rachiken were there too, both women and men, and the old father too. They were glad enough to escape the area, and the old man gave a sketchy bow to Kta t’Elas, gratitude. Though his house was burning, his children were safe.
“Shelter near Elas,” said Kta. “No Indras will harm you. Put the Pamcheni there too, Gyan t’Rachik.”
A cry rang out overhead and a body toppled from the roof to bounce off a porch and onto the stones of the street. The dead Sufaki archer lay with arrows scattered like straws about his corpse.
A girl of Dleve screamed, belatedly, hysterically.
“Throw a defense around this whole section,” Kta directed his men. “Ian! Camit! Take the wall-street by Irain and set a guard there. You Sufaki citizens! Get these fires under control: buckets and pikes, quickly! You, t’Hsnet, join t’Ranek, you and all your cousins!”
Men scattered in all directions at his orders, and pushed their way through smoke and frightened Sufaki; but the Sufaki who remained on the street, elders and children, huddled together in pitiful confusion, afraid to move in any direction.
Then from the houses up the street came others of the Indras-descended, and the chani, such as had stayed behind to guard the houses when the fleet sailed. Sufaki women
screamed at the sight of them, men armed with the deadly
ypai.
Kta stood free of the wall, taking a chance, for t’Ranek’s men were not yet in position to defend the street from archers. He lifted his sword arm aloft in signal to the Indras who were running up, weapons in hand.
“Hold off!” he shouted. “We have things under control. These poor citizens are not to blame. Help us secure the area and put out the fires.”
“The Sufaki set them, in Sufak houses,” shouted the old chan of Irain. “Let the Sufaki put them out!”
“No matter who started them,” Kta returned furiously, his face purpling at being fronted by a chan of a friendly house. “Help put them out. The fires are burning and they will take our houses too. They must be stopped.”
That chan seemed suddenly to realize who it was he had challenged, for he came to a sudden halt; and another man shouted:
“Kta t’Elas! Ei, t’Elas, t’Elas!”
“Aye,” shouted Kta, “still alive, t’Kales! Well met! Give us help here.”
“These people,” panted t’Kales, reaching him and giving the indication of a bow, “these people deserve no pity. We tried to defend them. They shield t’Tefur’s men, even when the fires strike their own houses.”