The Queen's Executioner

by Christopher Mitchell

  Laodoc smiled at the simplicity of youth. After a lifetime of calculated compromise, and subtle realignments of allegiances, he could barely remember feeling as certain about things as many of his young activists did. He had lit a spark. It was small and fragile, but whatever the authorities did today, they could never go back and un-light it.

  ‘Don’t you get it?’ someone else cried. ‘It’s over! They banned us! We’re all going to jail!’

  ‘Rubbish!’ said another. ‘My great-aunt is on the High Senate, she would never stand for that. The laws clearly state that one cannot be prosecuted for holding an opinion.’

  ‘But the committee don’t care about the law,’ another said. ‘My uncle’s mines were requisitioned at their order, and no one did anything to stop it. One minute he owned them, the next, soldiers and city officials moved in and took over. I heard the senate secretly approves of the committee, even though they would never say so in public. They get things done.’

  ‘Of course they approve!’ the first one said. ‘They were always complaining that the City Council took an age to decide anything, and often watered down their proposals. Now that the committee has tossed out the constitution, they can command whoever they like to do whatever they want. Look at the number of mages they‘ve rounded up for the siege. No way the council would have had the guts to do that.’

  ‘You sound like you admire them.’

  ‘Pah!’ he spat. ‘I hate them. But, as an enemy, I admit that I also respect them. They are a worthy opponent.’

  Laodoc sat listening, and pondering the future. He was the only one who hadn’t been shackled, as a sign of his position. Having experienced a few days in the cells under the High Senate, he had no desire to go back, but he couldn’t predict what the committee would decide. They seemed to act as the whim took them.

  ‘When we go in front of the committee,’ he said to the crowd of activists, ‘hold your heads high, and stand straight, you have nothing to be ashamed of, but at the same time keep any provocative opinions to yourselves. Watch your tongues. Don’t give them any reason to act capriciously. Once you are released, you will have plenty of time to plan and plot.’

  As the assembled students watched him, the door to the chamber opened, and a council official entered, flanked by soldiers.

  ‘The Requisition and Mobilisation Committee are ready to hear your case,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’

  With the official leading the way, Laodoc left the chamber, followed by the shuffling, clanking ranks of activists. Outside the door, more soldiers were waiting, and they were accompanied through long dim corridors, along ways Laodoc knew well from his two decades as a councillor. They reached a room that Laodoc recognised as one that had been used to hear legal suits, and were marched in.

  In front of them, on two rows of tiered semi-circular benches, sat the ten selected members of the new committee. There were three Conservatives, three Patriots, two Merchants and two Liberals, with a further two positions that were yet to be filled. Councillor Ziane sat at the centre of the lower bench, with the others beside and above him.

  Most of the committee members smiled as they watched Laodoc and the students fill the other half of the room, although his eldest son Ruellap’s face was grim. Douanna was grinning as if delighted at seeing an old friend. Pleonim nodded at him.

  A clerk stepped forward, as soldiers spread out among the activists. Laodoc was shepherded to the front, directly before the committee.

  ‘Case number five hundred and forty-eight,’ the clerk called out. ‘The accused are charged with being members of the banned organisation known as the Radical Party, carrying out seditious activities, and calling for the overthrow of the established order of the Rahain Republic.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ziane said, leaning forward onto the lectern in front of him. ‘So, Councillor Laodoc and his band of misguided helpers.’ He smiled. ‘Preaching treason at a time of war. Whatever shall we do with you?’

  ‘Reform is not the same as treason,’ Laodoc said, his chin up.

  ‘Silence!’ Ziane cried. ‘The accused will speak only when directly addressed. This is not a routine, peacetime court of law, it is a summons before the Requisition and Mobilisation Committee. As I’m sure you are aware, normal law has been temporarily suspended in the capital, until the Rakanese emergency is over.’

  ‘An emergency of your own making.’

  Ziane looked enraged for a moment, then his face relaxed, and he chuckled.

  ‘I’ll give you that one, Laodoc, for old time’s sake,’ he said. ‘But be warned. If you, or any of the other accused speaks out of turn again, I will add a year in prison to each of your young volunteers’ sentences.’

  There was a gasp from the students, several of whom glanced across at Laodoc, their eyes wide.

  ‘I’m glad that we now understand each other,’ Ziane went on. ‘In light of your crimes, the committee is sorely tempted to seek the harshest possible punishment, and have done with you. The last thing the Republic needs in such a crisis are the miserable stirrings of a group of deluded youth, led by an old man who, let’s be frank, should have retired some time ago. We discussed a range of sentences. Committee Member Douanna suggested execution for you all, and persuaded the Patriots to vote with her, but she was beaten six to four.’

  Laodoc staggered in shock. His own son had voted to have him executed. Ziane was watching, a grin close to his lips. His tongue flickered.

  ‘The Liberals then suggested that you all be let off with a slap on the wrist,’ Ziane continued, ‘but their proposal also failed, this time by seven votes to three.’

  Pleonim gave Laodoc a small shrug.

  ‘And then it was my turn,’ Ziane said. ‘I’m happy to say that my compromise prevailed, nine votes to one, with only Committee Member Ruellap dissenting. I therefore declare the following. For petty acts of subversion, all of the activists are hereby sentenced to three years imprisonment, suspended on the guarantee of good behaviour. Your names have all been registered, and if any are found to be engaging in similar activities in the future, then rest assured that you will see the inside of a cell. Furthermore, each activist has been fined a sum of five hundred ahanes, payable by third’s end. Let’s see how your parents feel about your choice of pastime when they see the bill you bring home tonight.’

  The students smiled, and hugged each other.

  ‘And on to you, Councillor Laodoc,’ Ziane said, sighing melodramatically. ‘Such is the gravity of the nature of your offences that I’m afraid a fine and a suspended sentence just wouldn’t do. As you seem to love the lower classes more than those of your own mage-blood, it was thought fitting that you should join them, in body as well as in spirit. You are hereby stripped of your rights and legal privileges as a member of the mage class, and relegated to the peasant class. Naturally, this means that you can no longer serve as a city councillor, effective immediately. Your property will, in its entirety, be treated as if you were deceased, and will pass on in the normal manner to your two sons, and your former wife will receive a widow’s pension.’

  Laodoc gasped. This was unprecedented. He had never even conceived that such a punishment was possible. Several of the activists looked at him in utter horror, and he heard the soft tinkle of Douanna’s laughter.

  ‘Arrangements will have to be made, of course,’ Ziane continued. ‘Housing, employment, and so on. You will remain a guest in the cells here until everything has been organised. The rest of you are free to go. Each will receive their fine as they are unshackled.’

  Many of the young activists flocked round Laodoc, shaking his hand. Some were sobbing, while others looked enraged on his behalf.

  ‘Stay true to your principles,’ he whispered to them. ‘There may be dark times ahead.’

  The soldiers soon separated him from his volunteers and, as Laodoc was escorted from the hall, Ziane smirked. ‘Bet you wish you had retired now, eh?’

  The prison cells under the City Council were more spacio
us and comfortable than those Laodoc had stayed in after Killop’s arrest and Simiona’s death. They looked little used, and the few prisoners he had seen as he was marched through the prison seemed to have arrived recently, since the committee had taken charge.

  He was taken to a clean cell, and locked in. Before the soldiers departed, he was handed a set of standard peasant clothing, the familiar brown tunic and trousers worn by the under-classes. Laodoc ignored the garments, and left them sitting in a pile by the bars. He sat on the wooden bench and prepared for a long wait, his mind struggling to come to terms with what had happened.

  He was interrupted after only a few hours.

  ‘Father,’ Ruellap said, keeping his distance from the bars of the cell.

  ‘Son,’ Laodoc replied, rising.

  ‘We will never call each other by those names again,’ Ruellap said. ‘You are dead. A dead person.’

  ‘You will always be my son.’

  ‘I voted for you to die,’ Ruellap said. ‘I didn’t want this for you. Ziane didn’t say it, but I was also the one who voted with the Liberals to have you released.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I know that deep down you’re still an honourable man,’ his son said, shaking his head, ‘and I believe that, once you experience life as a peasant, you’ll come to wish you had been executed rather than endure the shame such a miserable existence entails. Then maybe you will understand the reasons for the way I voted.’

  There was a painful silence. Laodoc felt bereft, and utterly hollow.

  ‘This may be the last time we meet,’ Laodoc said, the words bitter on his tongue. ‘Know that you have my love, despite all that has passed between us. Also, pass on my love to your brother Likiat.’

  Ruellap nodded. Laodoc could see the conflict in the younger man’s eyes.

  ‘Farewell, then,’ his son said.

  ‘Farewell,’ Laodoc replied. ‘Son.’

  Ruellap grimaced at the word, then turned and walked away.

  ‘Not wearing your new clothes, I see,’ Laodoc heard Douanna say, the words awakening him from a half-doze as he lay on the thin mattress.

  ‘I find the colour does little for my complexion,’ he replied, swinging his feet off the bed. He reached for the nearby water jug, and filled his wooden mug.

  ‘That’s a pity,’ she said, her long sapphire robes flowing almost to the floor, ‘I don’t think there’s all that much variety in the peasant range of clothing. Go on, put them on for me. You can trust me to give you an honest opinion.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, raising his mug, ‘but I’ll put them on when a squad of soldiers with crossbows forces me to, and not one minute before. Now, did you come here for any purpose other than to mock?’

  ‘I confess it would have been worth the visit for that reason alone,’ she said, ‘but I do have something I wish to discuss. Do you mind if I smoke?’

  ‘Would you care if I said yes?’

  ‘No.’ She pulled a box of Holdings-branded cigarettes from her bag and lit one. She inhaled, and sighed. ‘Ahh, the Holdings,’ she said. ‘A strangely flat land. One can travel for days and not see a hill, did you know that?’

  ‘Is this what you wanted to ask?’

  ‘You’re positively no fun whatsoever, Laodoc,’ she said. ‘You have just ruined my whole lead-in. We were to chat about the Holdings for a while, and then I was to gently steer the conversation towards a certain citizen of that country, whom I happen to be looking for.’

  ‘I assume you mean Daphne?’

  ‘However did you guess? Yes, it is she. As you may be aware, she is wanted for questioning over the escape of your old Kellach slaves. There was a soldier that the foolish girl didn’t quite manage to kill properly, and when he awoke from his injuries, he had the most curious tale to tell.’

  Laodoc cursed inwardly, not knowing if Douanna was trying to trick him. ‘Sounds absurd.’

  She sighed again. ‘Can we skip this bit,’ she said, ‘and go straight to the “I know you were involved” part? Because, to be frank, I know you were involved. Did you think that I wouldn’t have someone watching her house, noting who came and went?’

  Laodoc shrugged. ‘I have already been questioned by the authorities regarding this.’

  ‘You misunderstand me,’ she replied. ‘You see, I am rather anxious to find Daphne before the authorities do.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To assist her of course,’ Douanna smiled. ‘Poor girl, helpless and alone in a foreign city, pursued by assassins and hunted by soldiers. Now then, Laodoc, where is she? Before you answer, consider this. Imagine your future for a moment. Think about what it will mean to be a member of the peasant class. Living with them, working in a field or a factory, queuing up for bread each day. I can make that life a million times more bearable, give you enough wealth to lift you out of the shit on the slum streets. Or, I could make your life difficult. Peasants are very easily bribed, I find. For a few ahanes, one can get them to do all kinds of unpleasant things. For a modest investment, I could hire a whole team of Laodoc-harassers, dedicated to making your life a misery in a dozen mean and petty ways.’

  She smiled beatifically at him. ‘So, I ask again. Where is Daphne?’

  Laodoc shook his head. ‘Your threats are meaningless to me. I have no idea where she is.’

  ‘Then where did you last meet her?’

  ‘At her apartment,’ Laodoc replied. ‘I visited her there. I thought you already knew that.’

  ‘You were only there once, you old fool. Where did you meet her after that?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ He folded his arms. ‘We communicated, but I never saw her again.’

  Douanna narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘I think you have more important things to worry about right now,’ Laodoc said. ‘Like, for example, the imminent uprising of the lower classes of this city, due to the shortages and hardship caused by the Rakanese siege.’

  Douanna’s face relaxed, and she laughed.

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,’ she said. ‘Something is in motion that should bring all that unpleasantness to an end far more quickly than most people expect. Yes, I would imagine that the siege will be lifted soon, and our armies can demobilise, and we can all go back to normal again, with the Rakanese threat firmly, and irrevocably removed.’

  Laodoc paused, dread building within him. ‘What’s going to happen?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she laughed. ‘I’m not going to tell you. Although I’m not too modest to admit I had a hand in the planning of the whole enterprise. Ahh, it will be quite something, believe me.’

  Laodoc stared at her.

  ‘Well,’ she went on, ‘it’s been a lovely chat. I just had one more thing to tell you, regarding your runaway Kellach slaves. They were spotted a couple of days ago, fifty miles north of the city, and a squad of slave-hunters has been sent to apprehend them. Or kill them, whichever is easier.’

  ‘I thought Killop was needed alive,’ Laodoc said, his heart sinking, ‘as a hostage.’

  ‘No,’ Douanna replied. ‘He is no longer required. The mage has agreed to do our bidding, as she knows nothing of his escape. And once she has carried out what we ask of her, well, she will most likely also become superfluous to our requirements.’

  She laughed. ‘It was worth it, just to see that look on your face. Now, did you say it would take a whole squad to force you to change into your new clothes?’

  She smiled as he stood by the bars, raging and powerless.

  ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ she winked. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Chapter 30

  Wall to Wall

  Akhanawarah City, Rahain Republic – 23rd Day, Second Third Spring 505

  ‘We’re holding on so far, Commander,’ Polli said. ‘Our water supplies are back up after last night’s rainfall, and the rooftop gardens are starting to become productive.’

  ‘What about the front line defences?’ Shella said, sipping from her glass of s
our spirits, distilled by Sami in the basement below.

  ‘Everywhere is quiet this morning.’

  ‘Even down in the mud?’

  ‘There’s been no hostile activity on the southern front since yesterday, Commander,’ Polli said. ‘Even their throwing machines have stopped.’

  ‘Odd,’ Shella said. She looked over to Kylon. ‘Maybe we should check it out.’

  ‘Aye,’ he replied. ‘It does sound… wait. Did you feel that?’

  ‘Feel what?’ Shella said, raising an eyebrow at the big Kell.

  Kylon said nothing, but had tensed his body, and was looking around.

  Shella smirked. ‘You look like you’re about to shit yourself.’

  Just then, a low rumble began, and the entire building shook. Shella was thrown from her reclining couch onto the floor, her glass arcing through the air and smashing against a wall. She held her hands to her head as the floor jerked and bumped. The noise was tremendous. Screams rose above the grinding of bricks, and the clatter of roof tiles falling to the ground outside. In a few seconds it was over and Shella, her whole body quivering, opened her eyes.

  Everyone around her had also been knocked to the floor, along with tables, and the contents of every shelf. Books and scrolls lay scattered next to broken bottles and gently rolling glasses. Kylon was the first to his feet.

  He rushed to her side, and helped her sit.

  She grabbed the nearest intact bottle, uncorked it and took a swig.

  ‘Rijon told me that couldn’t happen!’ she cried. ‘A fucking earthquake! It’s not supposed to be possible!’

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Get up. We need to go outside, see what the damage was.’

  Her mind turned to the dams and sluice gates, the only things holding in their supply of fresh water.