Ossacer gaped. 'You have no right—'
'When I see my brother walking the frayed tightrope I think I have every right,' said Arducius. 'And Hesther will back me. Don't make us do it. I'm not asking you to teach them anything bar Pain Teller skills. Just don't fill their minds with your rhetoric. You will drag us all down.'
'Down?' Ossacer's face betrayed his contempt. 'You can stoop no lower, brother. You're as much the Advocate's lackey as any consort.'
'I only do what is asked of me by my Advocate,' said Arducius carefully.
'And if she asks for lightning to smite our enemies and tempests to purge their blood from the field, you will do that?'
Ossacer was staring at him, his eyes carrying such passion, such ferocity that it was difficult for a moment to remember he was blind. Arducius knew Ossacer would be able to see the certainty in his aura. Still he could barely speak above a whisper.
'If it would keep our enemies from the gates of the Conquord, yes, I would do that.'
'I knew it. Sad to see one so strong driven so weak. Brittle bones, brittle will.'
Arducius started and a felt a wound-like pain in his stomach. Ossacer dropped his gaze.
'I'm sorry, Ardu. I lashed out. I didn't mean it like that.' 'Then how did you mean it, Ossacer?' 'I th—'
'I think you've said enough for one day.' Arducius turned to go but a thought struck him on the way to the door. 'Ossie, you are my best friend, you are my brother and I love you. But some days you test my affection sorely. Do you think for one moment in that high-and-mighty head of yours that I would not be crushed inside if I was asked as an Ascendant to kill for the Conquord? Do you think that somehow I escaped the nightmares of what we did in Atreska that day? A lesser evil to perpetuate a greater good is a choice that I will make and so should you.
'You know, I used to hate Gorian when he taunted you about your blindness. But I remember once he said you weren't just blind on the outside but on the inside too. I didn't understand at the time. Now I think he might be right.'
Arducius closed the door firmly behind him and almost walked straight into the man standing immediately outside the classroom.
'Sorry,' he said and stepped back, looking up to see who he'd encountered.
It was a face aged beyond its years. Kindly but broken. He was seventy but looked a hundred. All the thick dark hair was gone, replaced by thinning white wisps. The eyes that used to be brown and all-embracing at one time, were sunk into the skull and lined red. Sleep was clearly an uncertain friend. He was stooped a little and all the power was gone from his frame. Unrecognisable to many. But you couldn't change the base of your aura. No disguise would ever fool an Ascendant.
'Hello, Arducius.'
'My Marshal,' said Arducius, thumping his right arm into his chest. 'It's been too long.'
'You can drop all that nonsense, Ardu,' said Arvan Vasselis. 'It's a long time since I required you to call me Marshal.'
Arducius gestured towards the reception rooms away at the back of the Chancellery. 'Can I offer you some wine and food? There was a pig roast last night and the cold cuts are exceptional.'
'In a moment, perhaps.' There was no real power in Vasselis's voice any more but he retained the same easy pace to his speech which begged interruption, and the natural charisma which forbade it. He nodded at the classroom. 'Did he mean what he said?'
'You overheard our ... discussion, I take it. All of it?'
'I made a career out of overhearing things,' said Vasselis. 'So?'
Arducius moved them a little way from the door.
'Of course he means it, Arvan. You know Ossacer. He can barely breathe for the principles and morals crowding him. He won't turn and it'll cause us trouble. I'll just have to manage him away from Herine as best I can.'
‘I see.' Vasselis's face was grim and a chasm of sadness yawned in his eyes. 'An Ascendant should know better. Excuse me a moment.'
Vasselis walked back to the classroom and opened the door. Arducius heard a chair scrape and Ossacer begin to speak. Vasselis did not move from the doorway. He held up a hand.
'My son made a sacrifice that no one had the right to ask of him and the Conquord was saved as a consequence. No one is asking you to die, Ossacer, merely to uphold the meaning of the actions of those who did.'
Vasselis closed the door.
'Wine and pig, I think, young Arducius. Lead the way.' A single tear ran down his cheek.
Chapter Twenty-One
859th cycle of God, 30th day of Genasrise
‘I try not to let it consume me but every day it is harder, not easier. I cannot explain it.'
Vasselis's hand had a slight quiver as he raised his goblet. Arducius had chosen a snug room for them. Just two recliners and a table between walls lined with books The solitary window was closed against the late afternoon cold.
'But your words were well chosen and well said. Ossacer doesn't think widely enough sometimes. You might just have given him something to chew on.'
'Then it was worth my trip.'
'How is Netta?'
Vasselis's shoulders sagged. 'Kovan was our life, the future of our line. When it became clear Netta and I could have no more children, he became unspeakably precious to us. But you can't stand in a young man's way. Still, I never for one moment thought when I sent him away with you that day in Westfallen that it would be the last I ever saw of him. For Netta it is even harder. The heart of our house has stopped beating but she exists there still. I am only here because I will not suffer another to rule over my people.'
'God blesses us while that remains the case.'
'Not every one would agree with you.' Vasselis raised his eyebrows. Arducius sniffed. 'Let me guess ... are we talking about the Order by any chance?'
'Who else? The public face is all about a Marshal needing a line of succession and that the family ethos of the Order is undermined if a senior figure in the Conquord cannot provide that. But we all know what it's really about. I have to fight my corner hard at the moment,
Ardu, and I don't need Ascendants causing trouble on the Hill. The ripples will rock my boats too.'
'Understood.' Arducius helped himself to a thick pork chop and poured a hot sweet sauce over it. The smell made him salivate. 'So do I take it this is the wrong time to ask you about getting to some of the Order's more radical Speakers and Readers?'
'It is never a bad time to cause Felice Koroyan trouble.' And for a moment, the old Vasselis sparkled. 'That witch needs burning outside her own House of Masks. But I must tread carefully. I cannot deny my position is weaker at home these days. I neglect too many duties, I fear. Koroyan's people never stop searching for those in the Order that helped the Ascendancy flourish. I will put the word out but don't expect names any time soon. People are cautious. Despite the Advocate's support your position with the citizenry remains perilous.'
Arducius had been eating the chop while Vasselis spoke. He swallowed a mouthful and wiped his lips.
'Is there no pressure you can bring to bear on Herine that might see her decide to legislate?'
Vasselis smiled a little sadly. 'It must seem so simple from up here. The trouble is that Herine is already so far out on the limb that it is cracking behind her. Another pace and she will fall. The Chancellor knows it. The lines are drawn between them and they will not move until one or the other can make the decisive statement, bring forth the immutable proof that they are following the true path.'
He leaned back but only for a brief pause.
'Which reminds me. You have time to work on Ossacer with the Advocate away at the Senate. Don't waste it. But watch yourselves these next days. You are vulnerable. Even here on the Hill.'
'Why?'
'Herine and I are travelling to the Solastro Palace at first light tomorrow. Paul Jhered is in Kark and Harkov is with him. You have little senior defence and Felice will know it only too well. Don't give her anything on which to feed. Keep Ossacer quiet about the Advocate's plans for you in the event of
war. That is very important.'
'What might she do?'
Vasselis shrugged. 'This is Felice we are talking about. How can any of us possibly know? Now then, one of your chops, I think. Assuming you have left me any.'
Roberto Del Aglios stood with his brother Adranis on the gatehouse fort overlooking the Tsardon encampment. Behind them, lights would burn into the early hours of the morning, marking fevered preparations for an attack that some had begun to question would ever come. For the five days since they arrived, the Tsardon had simply ignored them. They had camped about a mile from the bridge and seemed intent on nothing more than hunting and archery contests. But the bizarre nature of this show of strength, if such it was, concerned Roberto.
'I must be missing something very obvious,' he said.
The Tsardon fires were burning brightly. The odd snatch of song drifted to them on a warm evening breeze. The brothers were standing directly above the gate on the artillery platforms, leaning on the forward battlements. Arrows were standing against the stone in wrapped quivers, hundreds of them and with more being made every day. The platform was stacked with onager stones, ballista bolts and pitch barrels ready for firing. The whole place stank of fresh oil and new wood.
'That would be a first,' said Adranis.
'Would that that were true. There must be a point to what they are doing but I'm damned if I can see it. Too long a diplomat, I expect.' Roberto chuckled and looked at Adranis, feeling that flush of pride again. A fine young man, full of energy and the passion of the Conquord. Roberto recognised it very well. 'Come on then, Master Del Aglios, you're a soldier of today's legions. What's your assessment?'
'It's the talk of the barracks,' said Adranis, keeping his gaze outwards. 'It's clear that their current strength is not enough to hurt us. And they've given us time to reinforce and position our artillery exactly where we want it. It's like they want us to be as ready as possible, which cannot be true.'
'So you think they do not intend an attack?'
'That's the betting,' said Adranis.
'So what are they?'
'A distraction, it has to be. We're waiting news from further south about any other Tsardon forces approaching the borders. Nothing so far but it's southern Atreska that should worry us. We're thin down there and the country is in turmoil.'
'Again.' Roberto scratched his head. 'I'm not sure I buy the distraction angle.'
'You have a better suggestion?'
'No. But we are a long way north, and even assuming they wanted to keep the Gosland forces on alert and tied down here it doesn't make a big enough difference. Even if your messengers come back telling you there is a Tsardon army threatening the Atreskan borders as far south as Haroq City, it is no reason to send a few thousand up here merely to keep the Bear Claws busy.'
'Perhaps their intelligence is lacking and they think we are more strongly represented here than we actually are.'
Roberto shook his head. 'This is not a secure border. You can't get an army across unseen but a few scouts? Simple enough. And the Tsardon have many sympathisers here and in Atreska. No ... and we're sure there is no other army moving up in support?'
'Nothing that is going to get here in the next twenty days. Your Sirranean contacts have tracked no one at all and our scouts have uncovered nothing either.'
'So they really might just be there simply to piss us off.'
'You don't believe that, though, do you, Roberto?'
'Indeed not. So I go back to my first statement. We're missing something obvious. I mean, look at them. No artillery, no cavalry. Just a few oxen pulling carts of supplies, and a whole lot of foraging. Unless they're planning to enter an archery team for the Games this solastro, I am at a loss to know what they think they will achieve. Adranis, think about it. They haven't threatened anywhere else. We were already here defending this bridge. It couldn't be much more convenient, could it?'
Roberto looked at Adranis again. He was frowning and itched at his skull just under his green-plumed helmet.
'I don't know what it is you're driving at,' he said.
'If they don't attack in the next few days, I won't be able to justify staying here. What I don't want is for you or anyone else to make assumptions, that's all. This smells all wrong. When the Sirraneans told me they were heading this way, it worried me. It still does and the size of their force and their apparent lack of ambition does nothing to change that.'
'I hear you.'
'Just be careful, that's all. You're a jewel in the Conquord crown. Mother would never forgive me if you perished out here because any of us got careless.'
'I'm not wrapping myself in blankets and hiding, Roberto. I'm a cavalryman and I fight. It's my job just like it was yours.' Adranis had tensed and his jaw jutted proudly.
'I'm not asking you to.' Roberto wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him close. He lowered his voice. 'Just remember yourself and who you are. Don't throw yourself away on an errant thought. The Tsardon are clever and they will know you stand here. You are a target more than any general. I had to live with that and I may have to again. The Del Aglios line must continue if the Conquord is to remain the dominant force in this world. We have a responsibility. You, me and Tuline.'
Adranis pulled away. 'Tuline?'
'Yes, of course. If we both die in battle, she will be heir. She needs to understand that and I intend to make that point to her.'
'Good luck,' said Adranis. 'She works for the Conquord in name alone. The only thing I hear she is good at is spending the Del Aglios fortune on cloth, art and that bunch of perfumed imbeciles she calls her friends and advisers.'
Roberto laughed. 'It is what little sisters are put here to do, isn't it? Get under your skin and appear to waste everything that comes their way?'
'If that is so, she is peerless.'
'But don't underestimate her, Adranis. She is smart and a sound politician when she has need. There is much of our mother in Tuline and the good folk of the Senate would do well to realise it. I'm looking forward to the meeting at the Solastro Palace even if I attend none of it. I guarantee it will be the most ordered in Conquord history.'
'You think too much of her skill, Roberto. Secretary to the Consul General? Let chaos reign.'
Roberto wagged a finger at his brother. 'You work on memories, Adranis. She may be extravagant and her reputation for certain excesses is something Mother will no doubt discuss with her but in affairs of state, she has grown beyond all recognition.'
'If you say so.'
'I do.'
Roberto let a silence fall between them. He listened instead to the Tsardon voices raised in song, louder than before. Cold trickled down his back. He'd heard this song before. It was no work-party chant or campfire ditty. It was a song of victory.
Marcus Gesteris walked into the workshops and offices of Orin D'Allinnius, chief scientist of the Conquord, and all but felt the weight of creation and intelligence on his shoulders. He hadn't often been here; it was not a place for soldiers in his opinion, though what came out of it had been of extraordinary military value on countless occasions.
He could hear the sounds of endeavour as soon as he walked into the small building attached to the administration offices on the Hill. Herine Del Aglios had ordered it built after the last Tsardon wars. Not just so the worth of her scientists was made apparent but because she wanted to keep them secure. The principal reason why looked up and made his halting way across the room as soon as Gesteris's name was announced by the guards.
Gesteris had to force himself not to let his gaze stray to the chalk boards covered by figures, angles and formulae that hung on every wall; nor to wonder what it was in the three workshops that led from the room that required so much heat, shouting and hammering. The forges were stoked today and the air was heavy with sweat and soot.
Instead, he walked towards D'Allinnius, whose cane tapped on the stone-flagged floor and whose occasional gasps of pain escaped his mouth despite his best efforts.
D'Allinnius stopped and regarded him with his one good eye, his head slightly turned to get best focus. All it served to do was show Gesteris the mess of flesh where Orin's left ear had been and the bald patches on his skull where his hair had been burned away, never to return.
'Idiot liar,' he said, voice whistling through broken and missing teeth. 'It is a decade since that was true.' 'Then sit down and stop trying to prove it.'
D'Allinnius scowled. 'I am quite capable of moving about, Senator. Sitting down will not show you what you are here to see. Come.'
Gesteris inclined his head and followed D'Allinnius towards the smallest of his three workshops. The scientist's brain was still fertile and his thirst for understanding unquenched. But he could not hide his bitterness and no one escaped his bile. Gesteris couldn't blame him. Felice Koroyan, the architect of his condition, still walked free.
D'Allinnius gripped the door handle with his three-fingered left hand and pulled it down. It was a mercy she had left him his thumbs. She'd probably think of it as an omission. Acrid-smelling air rolled out through the open door. Gesteris walked into a room almost empty but for a sheet of metal which stretched a good ten feet into the air and across the room, and which was bolted to the floor at the near end of the workshop. Three men stood behind it, bent over something at a small table. At the other end of the room, illuminated by a single smoking torch, there was nothing but scorch marks on the walls and a scattering of wood splinters on the floor.
Gesteris raised his eyebrows. 'You've made quick progress, I presume.'
‘I would not call you down here to waste your time,' said D'Allinnius. ‘I have none myself for pointless pleasantries.'
‘I can respect that,' said Gesteris. 'So, what have you discovered?'
D'Allinnius's eye sparkled and he almost smiled. 'This stuff is amazing. Dangerous but amazing. We have a demonstration ready for you. Don't we?'
A Shout for the Dead Page 21
