Laodoc clutched the slip of paper like it was the most precious thing he had ever held.
He stopped off at his bed in the dormitory to collect a few things, then made his way to the front gates of the workhouse.
The guards eyed him with contempt but let him through. Laodoc practically ran up the street, feeling a rush of freedom. He had only been in the workhouse for fifteen days, but already it seemed like an eternity. Every day was the same, and the lives of the inmates were controlled by a suffocating blanket of rules and regulations. Some of the old men had been inside the workhouse for years, and Laodoc had in no way come to terms with the fact that this was to become his life.
As he walked through the streets the lamps were being brightened, to signify morning. This was the first time he had been out in public wearing his peasant clothing, and he found he had to quickly adjust. Slaves still got out of his way, but the upper classes acted as if he wasn’t there, and he had to scurry aside if he saw them coming. The soldiers on the street corners glared at him in the same manner they regarded all peasants and slaves. No one really looked at his face. His uniform was everything, his place in the structure of society as fixed as stone.
By lunchtime Laodoc’s feet were getting sore, and his stomach was rumbling. He still had far to go and he realised that, if his plan didn’t succeed, he would be late getting back to the workhouse. Three nights in the punishment cells beckoned, and he felt his anxiety rise.
He reached the huge cavern where the government buildings were clustered a couple of hours after noon. He stopped for a moment to gaze up at the beautiful spires of the High Senate, and then the more modest towers of the City Council, where the Requisition and Mobilisation Committee continued to rule.
Soldiers patrolled in heavy numbers, stopping members of the lower classes to check their papers. Laodoc knew the ways of the cavern well, and kept to the narrow back streets, where long shadows masked his presence. He came to a junction, and saw what he had been looking for.
The Holdings embassy.
He had never visited before, but remembered sending Simiona to find out the address for him.
Boldness, he said to himself, striding towards the wide steps leading to the embassy doors.
‘Halt!’ one of the two Holdings guards yelled as he approached. Laodoc doubted that they spoke to the upper classes in such a tone.
‘Good day, gentlemen,’ Laodoc said, continuing to walk. ‘I have an appointment inside the embassy today, regarding a visa to trade with your homeland.’
The guards looked at each other, then back at him. They kept their spears out, blocking his path.
‘Let’s see your appointment card, then,’ one said.
‘I didn’t receive one,’ Laodoc replied. ‘I was told to report to the main reception.’
‘I don’t think so,’ the guard said. ‘Sorry mate, not today.’
Laodoc stopped, a spear point twitching a few inches from his chest.
‘You must let me in,’ he said, his resolve starting to break. ‘I have important news.’
‘Oh yeah? Tell us it, then.’
‘I can’t,’ Laodoc replied, then whispered. ‘I must speak to Daphne Holdfast.’
The guards glanced around. They knew the name, Laodoc thought. He noticed a squad of Rahain guards on patrol turn a corner and approach them. His heart raced, and he began to sweat.
The Holdings guards looked up, noticing the reason for his increased anxiety.
‘They after you?’ the first guard asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I must speak to Daphne Holdfast!’
The Holdings guards hesitated, trying to gauge the situation.
‘All right,’ the first one said. ‘Come with me.’
Laodoc raced after him, and followed the guard up the embassy steps.
‘You’d better not be bullshitting us,’ the guard said as they reached the main doors.
‘No, sir.’
They entered the building, and when the entrance was closed behind them Laodoc nearly staggered in relief.
‘Who’s this, then?’ said an officer by the doors.
‘He claims to know Miss Holdfast, sir.’
‘And you thought you’d just invite him in?’ the officer said, a frown on his face. ‘You know the rules about letting peasants into the building, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the guard replied, glaring at Laodoc. ‘He also claimed that he was about to be arrested, sir, and that he had vital information for Miss Holdfast. I had to make a split-second decision, sir. Apologies.’
The officer eyed Laodoc up and down.
‘Well?’
‘May we speak alone, sir?’ asked Laodoc.
‘You don’t sound much like a peasant,’ the officer said. He gestured to the guard. ‘Go on, back to your post.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the guard saluted. ‘Thank you, sir.’
The officer led Laodoc past the reception desk, nodding to the woman sitting there. They reached a small meeting room, and sat.
The officer raised his eyebrows at him.
‘Up until a few days ago,’ Laodoc said, beginning the little speech that he had been practising in his head for hours, ‘I was a member of the City Council. After being found guilty of sedition against the state, by opposing slavery, and the wars against the Kellach and the Rakanese, I was stripped of my wealth, rights and position, and cast into the peasantry.’ He looked the officer in the eye. ‘I now wish to claim asylum with the Realm of the Holdings, and beg for sanctuary.’
For several hours, a tired and hungry Laodoc was passed between Holdings embassy officials, who each asked him the same questions about who he claimed to be and what his intentions were. One of the officials had, when pressed, told him the whole tale of what had befallen Akhanawarah City. The horror of it gripped his heart in despair, and he knew he needed to cut himself off from those responsible.
He was taken to a plush office, just as the lamps were being dimmed for evening. Laodoc realised that by now he would have been reported missing by the workhouse.
‘Former Councillor Laodoc,’ the Holdings man behind the desk said as he entered and sat. ‘I am Secretary Joley of Hold Vale, second only to the ambassador himself. We have discussed your situation at length, and I regret to inform you that your appeal for asylum has been turned down.’
Laodoc sagged into the armchair, his hopes in tatters.
‘It was felt,’ Joley went on, ‘that it would set an unwelcome precedent. Things are a little tense between our nations at present, and the embassy does not wish to antagonise your government.’
‘May I speak with Miss Daphne?’
‘Unfortunately, Miss Daphne is not presently available. If you were to leave her a note, I will see that it falls into her hands.’
The door burst open at that moment, and a dishevelled and red-faced priest barged in.
‘My apologies, Joley,’ the priest blustered. ‘I’ve just spoken to the ambassador. There’s been a change of plan.’
Joley looked irritated at the intrusion. ‘What is it now?’
The priest turned to Laodoc.
‘I am Father Ghorley,’ he said, still out of breath. ‘Forgive me, I ran all the way, to make sure I got here before you could leave. Joley,’ he said, without turning to look, ‘get us some drinks, there’s a good chap, and Laodoc here looks a little hungry to me. Order him some food, please.’
Joley tutted, and got to his feet.
‘I’ll order up some food,’ he said as he went through the door. ‘The drinks are in the cabinet.’
The priest raised his eyebrows as the door slammed.
‘My appearance here has ruffled a few feathers,’ Ghorley said, ‘but carrying out the work of the Creator has always brought its burdens.’
He walked over to the cabinet, and gathered bottles and glasses.
‘Do you know anything about the Holdings religion?’ he said.
‘Not much, I confess,’ Laodoc said, as he was handed
a glass of red wine. ‘I looked into it a little after I met with Miss Daphne.’
‘And what were you meeting her about?’ he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.
‘I would rather speak only to Miss Daphne regarding that.’
‘Were you plotting to free your ex-slaves?’ the priest asked, a sly smile on his lips.
‘How did you know that?’ Laodoc spluttered. ‘Did Daphne tell you?’
‘No,’ Ghorley said. ‘The Creator did.’
Laodoc swallowed hard to stop himself from laughing. He had read that the Holdings priesthood could be fanatical in their devotions, but this was the first time he had been face to face with someone who believed that a god spoke to them.
‘I can understand your scepticism,’ the priest went on, ‘however, whether you believe or not is immaterial to me. My orders are clear, and it is purely coincidental that they happen to benefit you.’
‘Benefit me?’ Laodoc asked. ‘How?’
‘This world will be united, my friend,’ Ghorley said, ‘but not under the oppressive heel of the current Rahain government. The Holdings are coming to understand what needs to be done. We already had the example of the Kellach’s fate before us, and now with the massacre of the Rakanese migrants, the minds of the king and church are hardening.’
‘War?’
‘Not if it can possibly be avoided,’ Ghorley replied. ‘What we need right now is a friendly Rahain, say a liberal ex-councillor for example, in the heart of the new Holdings capital on the Plateau, who would be able to advise on the political situation, and wisely prevail upon His Royal counsels.’
‘You want me to betray my nation?’ Laodoc hung his head.
‘We want to remove the current regime that is so badly misruling this republic. I thought this was your desire also?’
‘It is,’ he whispered.
‘As I said,’ the priest went on, ‘this world will be united. The Rakanese homeland is turning to us for assistance, and there are sizable numbers of Kellach refugees prepared to ally themselves also. The Sanang, well, we shall see, but the fact remains that the Rahain government is the main obstacle to peace and unity on this continent, and it is our aim to remove it, before it tries to remove us.’
‘And what does your Creator have to do with all of this?’
‘He guides us,’ Ghorley replied, raising his hand. ‘He wishes for peace and unity, and so we labour to fulfil his word. He sees all, and his great heart weeps for the pain your government has caused, and how you have abused the gifts he bestowed upon your people, and not only your people, but how you forced a Kellach fire mage to abuse her power also. A most despicable act. The Creator’s plans for this woman are now in ruins, so polluted are her hands with death.’ He shook his head, lost for a moment as Laodoc watched him in silence.
‘But peace will prevail,’ Ghorley said, calming himself, ‘for the Creator has foreseen it.’ The priest pointed at him. ‘You can help us. You can help bring unity to this world, and an end to the wars that have so crippled us.’
Laodoc considered, but began to feel he had no choice. The priest’s religious talk had made him uncomfortable, but his heart filled with a base terror when he thought about returning to the workhouse.
‘I accept,’ he said. ‘I will work with you to overthrow the present government, but I will never betray the people of Rahain.’
‘Excellent!’ the priest beamed. Just then, the door opened, and a servant pushed in a trolley, heaped with plates of food. Laodoc’s stomach rumbled at the sight. When the door closed again, Ghorley began unloading the steaming contents onto dishes on the table.
‘I have a question,’ Laodoc said. ‘How exactly will I be getting to Plateau City?’
‘It just so happens,’ the priest replied, ‘that Miss Daphne will soon be travelling that way. I’m sure she won’t mind escorting you.’
‘Daphne is going to Plateau City?’
‘Yes,’ Ghorley said, a hint of worry on his face. ‘If her present mission is successful, of which I have no doubt, then she will be required to escort certain people there. I’m sure she could cope with an additional passenger.’
‘What is Daphne’s mission?’
Ghorley smiled. ‘We sent her into the Rakanese city to rescue the flow mage, and as many of the royal family as possible.’
‘But the city was destroyed!’ Laodoc exclaimed. ‘What happened? Did she make it out?’
‘We have not yet had any contact with her. I don’t know her current situation.’
‘She might be dead!’
‘Not at all,’ Ghorley replied. ‘As I said, I have no doubt that she will succeed. A few days late she may be, but our Daphne is a very resourceful young lady.’
Chapter 34
Survivor
Tahrana Valley, Rahain Republic – 6th Day, Last Third Spring 505
‘She’s a fucking pain in the ass, Sami,’ Shella muttered. ‘That’s what she is.’
Her brother coughed. ‘She’s doing her best. It wasn’t her fault we crashed.’
Jayki remained silent, trying not to get embroiled in the conversation. The three Rakanese sat in the shade under the thick branches of a tree, as they watched Daphne argue with the Kellach Brigdomin over which direction they should take next. The squad of ten Holdings soldiers stood around, waiting for their orders. Off to the side, the Rahain Baoryn watched, arms folded.
They had been walking for two days, ever since their lizard-borne carriage had come down. It had carried them clear over the Rahain lines and up a long, wide valley, travelling scores of miles in a few hours, before something had gone wrong with the four flying creatures. They had stopped working as a team, and had started pulling in different directions. As none aboard had any expertise of piloting the great lizards, Daphne had been forced into freeing one after the other, which had at least allowed them to descend, until the last beast had lowered the carriage to the ground in an untidy skid, which had sent the passengers tumbling about the inside of the wooden tube.
‘Can you not wait a bit longer?’ they heard Daphne say. ‘We need to get to the meeting point, and we’re already late.’
‘And once we’re there?’ Kylon said.
‘You’ll be able to pick up supplies, while I present that lot to Father Ghorley,’ she thumbed at the three Rakanese. ‘And we can ask him about searching for Keira. See if he knows anything.’
‘I don’t want to lose another day.’
‘The Holdings might be able to help you search. Don’t leave until we get to the meeting place.’
‘I still don’t understand why you’re not coming with us.’
‘This is something I need to do, Kylon,’ Daphne said. ‘I need to go home, and see my family. Also, I can’t let Rakanese royalty travel to Plateau City unescorted. When we parted, Killop said he would come for me. When you find him, tell him to look for me there.’
Kylon gazed off to the south, in the direction of the Rahain Capital.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘One more day.’
Shella looked sideways at her brother. ‘She doesn’t like us.’
‘She has her own life,’ Sami whispered, ‘and her own problems. She saved us, remember?’
‘Why the fuck do you keep defending her?’ Shella snapped. ‘You fucking fancy her, don’t you?’
Sami blushed.
‘You don’t stand a chance,’ Shella went on. ‘I heard Kylon say that she’s in love with a Kellach. Do you honestly think you could do anything for her, after she’s been with one of those big hairy bastards? No, brother, your whoring days are over. State you’re in, you’ll have to pay for your girlfriends from now on. Though maybe you could ask Daphne for a sympathy fuck.’
‘Miss!’ Jayki cried, as Sami lowered his head, his bottom lip trembling.
‘Don’t you fucking start,’ Shella sniped at him. ‘Shit. Of all the possible survivors, I had to end up with you two halfwits.’
Jayki looked away, biting his tongue in anger
.
Shella frowned. Why did she do this? Why was she pushing them away? Her devoted brother, who had always looked up to her, and Jayki, the most loyal soldier she had ever known? She hated herself. Obli had been right. She was responsible for the annihilation of Akhanawarah City, all those deaths. The destruction of the spawning pools, before a single baby had emerged from the warm waters. All her fault. Why couldn’t Sami and Jayki see that? Why weren’t they blaming her?
She saw Daphne approach.
‘We’re leaving,’ the Holdings woman said. ‘We’ve got to make ten more miles today.’
‘When will Rijon be joining us?’ Shella asked, as Jayki helped Sami to his feet.
Daphne scowled, shrugged and walked away.
‘Bitch,’ Shella muttered under her breath. Daphne paused for a moment, then kept walking.
They made good time, the three Kellach taking turns to carry Sami on their shoulders. They followed the narrow trail along the bottom of a gorge, every now and again catching a glimpse of the great, broad Tahrana Valley to their north. The day before, they had passed the point opposite where the enormous tunnel through the Grey Mountains began. It was nearing completion, Shella had heard, and once finished it was estimated that it would knock a third off the time it took to travel from the Rahain Capital to Rainsby, on the shores of the Inner Sea.
Rahain bastards, thought Shella. They had destroyed the Kellach and the Migration, and now they were casting their greedy lizard eyes on the Plateau.
Just as the sun was setting, the group reached a small farmstead, abandoned and overgrown.
They halted by a gate next to the crumbling walls of an old barn.
‘Hello!’ Daphne called out into the fading light.
After a moment a torch appeared from round the corner of a building, and a solitary man in uniform approached across the cobbled courtyard. Holdings, Shella guessed, judging by the darkness of his skin.
‘Miss Daphne!’ the man said, a big grin on his face. ‘You’re late.’
‘Good evening, Dale.’
The man reached the gate, holding his torch aloft.
The Queen's Executioner Page 44
